#if anyone else wants to share their experiences here feel free to do so

[cmncs-infodumps]

honestly the less active i got in the ghost fandom the more my headmates started to feel comfortable fronting and being willing to link themselves back to me publicly and i think that says a lot about the state this fandom has been in for the past 7 years or so

legit the moment i left a ghost fan server i was sorta made moderator of without my consent i felt so fucking free like you dont even understand. only reason i was there for so long was because i was one of like 4 or 5 adults in that server and one of the only 2 or 3 adults on the mod team. the mod team was of like 9 people btw and they let 14 year olds on the mod team even though we had to deal with talking people out of suicide in the vent channels and you know. other shit 14 year olds shouldnt have to deal with (i would know from personal experience thanks to this stupid fucking fandom)

there are 2 types of people in the fandom. people who worship ghost like a god and people who are a part of some discord server clique who bullies anyone they dont like. legit i ended up saying the meanest shit about people i barely knew anything about in multiple of these servers bc of peer pressure n shit it was awful

i feel like ive been in an abusive relationship with this fandom since i joined way back when i was 12 and at times i was literally being abused emotionally by people in this fandom.

i shouldn't have been the group therapist at 12 to a group of people that were years older than me and had been going through the worst shit imaginable. i shouldn't have been subjected to cocsa at 13 while multiple 16 year olds sat around and did nothing about it. i shouldn't have been peer pressured into hiding how i felt about the more popular members of the fandom at 14. i shouldn't have been made to believe that a groomer and their victims were the only people who would accept me for who i was when i was 15. i shouldn't have been around a 12 year old that i had to be a moral compass for that ended up cyberstalking me when i was 15. and i definitely shouldn't have been made a moderator for a server full of suicidal children at the age of 18.

i feel like i would've ended up much more sane if i had never fucking joined this fandom in the first place. i advise people to reject false idols and to not be a gossiping little bitch

[bellanothadidloa]

I've been receiving a lot of inquiries since sharing my success story, and while I'm not planning to start a blog, I do want to address some common questions here.

Did I manifest everything from the void?

Yes, everything I listed was indeed manifested when I entered the void, as outlined in my story. I've had some successes with various experiments before, but none reached the level of my most recent attempt.

What was the most crucial factor in achieving the final breakthrough?

I wish there was a straightforward answer, but it probably boils down to the realization that no matter how much I complained or cried, I was determined not to give up. I would read success stories and find myself in tears because they mirrored the life I aspired to have. I wanted to shift realities, be wealthy, happy, and beautiful—it might sound vain, but that's what I desired. I longed to feel free, unbound by any world, and to pursue my own path. Who wouldn't want that? At some point, I asked myself, would I still be trying to shift at 30, while struggling with dietary issues caused by gut praxis disorder? If the answer was yes, what did that mean? It meant I wasn't going to give up. So, I kept trying different things, knowing that eventually, something would work. Inner work is essential, but I believe it's inevitable. The longest journey I've seen took seven years. Do I want that for myself? Absolutely not, but what if it happens? The very acceptance of that possibility means you're not giving up, so what does it matter?

What method did you use?

As I've mentioned, I've tried every method. The final one that worked was the morphic field. I don't really care whether it was the morphic fields or something else that clicked within me. As I mentioned earlier, I realized I was sad, but I knew I wasn't going to give up, so I let myself be sad. Who cares? Let me be angry; I'm still not giving up. So, why fight those feelings? I cared and was disappointed and scared, but I just decided to trust in the fields because, in the end, it didn't matter whether they worked or not. I wasn't giving up.

How do you feel now that you've achieved your dream life?

I've managed to transform my life and self-concept, and along with being incredibly happy, I feel a mix of sadness for everything I endured and pride for how I pushed myself before succeeding. Initially, I thought it would be hypocritical to say I love myself after I changed everything about myself, looks and life, but I realized this is my life, and I'm still the same person, just with desires that now align with my reality. Why would I want to be unhappy in a life that makes no sense to be sad in? I don't believe anyone deserves or doesn't deserve anything. Do what you want, pursue inner work if you wish, or just manifest your desires. Personally, I didn't feel the need to do the inner work after manifesting my dream life, but I know some people do, and that's beautiful too. Life is just beautiful.

How to mend your relationship with the void?

The only advice I can offer from my experience is to acknowledge that you're not giving up on it. It reminds me of toxic relationships where despite infidelity, they say, "I know where home is." Unlike those misguided people, the void genuinely serves its purpose and supports you. It already knows its home is with you, whether you realize it or not, and that's all that matters.

How did you exit the void state ?

Exiting the void was a simple experience for me. I simply took a deep, calming breath and set a clear intention to leave. The sensation that followed was like tunnel vision, where everything around me seemed to narrow and focus. This was followed by a profound sense of detachment from any sense of self, almost like becoming weightless or losing a sense of individual identity. When I finally opened my eyes, I found myself in a completely new room, confirming that I had successfully transitioned out of the void and back to reality with everything on my life

Did everything you wanted come true?

Oh, absolutely—and then some! I ended up getting things I didn't even know I wanted. The way I look now is even better than my Pinterest boards ever dreamed of. Like, I had this idea for how I wanted my room to look, trying to mash together different vibes and aesthetics, and it turned out way better than I could have pictured. I was stuck between wanting a curvy figure and that sleek Bella Hadid look, but somehow I got the best of both worlds, which is exactly what I was hoping for.

I wasn’t even thinking about changing my eye color, but it happened, and I absolutely love it. I thought I'd revise old friends, but instead, I found new, amazing people who fit into my life perfectly. Now that I’ve got a better sense of self, I see this is exactly what I really wanted deep down. Everything just fell into place so perfectly, and it feels like I've finally got a handle on what I truly wanted all along.

Can you manifest things for other people?

Well, yeah, but it’s kind of like it's really just about yourself in a way. I mean, there have been times when I managed to manifest things for my brother, but oddly enough, I struggled to do the same for myself. It's weird, right? I don't fully understand how manifestation works in every detail. I just kind of go with the flow and assume it works the way I want it to. If I can pull off all these manifestations, then why not just trust that I can manifest whatever I want, however I want it? That's the mindset I've adopted, and it seems to work for me.

What's it like being a master shifter?

It's like waking up and remembering who you truly are, and almost laughing at all the suffering you experienced. When you think about it, you might have lowkey created that suffering yourself, which is kind of sadistic, but instead of holding onto any negative emotions about the journey, I just appreciate my life more. It’s a mix of joy and bliss. I still remember my old life, sure, but somehow, this new reality feels just right. It's like destiny exists, and I’ve finally found mine.

This concludes everything for me, and I’ve decided I won't be continuing my blog any longer. I've shared a lot of helpful insights in the past, but I won't be actively posting from now on. Thank you all for the love and support. I’ve reached a point where I no longer have a reason to continue here, and soon, you won't either. Goodbye and take care!

[letorip]

tara carpenter hcs?

tara carpenter headcanons

so glad you all liked the headcanons i previously made and had a lot of fun doing, because it’s something i can do more frequently and consistently than my long form fics, which i promise i am hard at work doing. here are a few more :) also, kiss with a fist [ii] out soon

***also i wrote this and i think (?) i cooked? would you want this as an actual story at some point? cause i was doing this a bit lightheartedly and then i was like wait a minute- i usually struggle to think of plots but this came super free-flowing

tara wants absolutely nothing to do with you at first. she doesn’t trust easy, and some random kid chad met in class is not going to quickly break down that barrier, no matter how not-fugly you are

but chad feels like he can really trust you. you grow to become best friends over time, and he's still healing from ethan's betrayal.

even after you've won everyone else over in the group, tara is the stubborn one who refuses to acknowledge your presence

it all changes at a singular party. you stand up for a girl being screamed at by her boyfriend and shoved, and even though he tries to fight you, you don't budge

he's a massive guy on the football team, known around campus for being super jacked and picking fights, and though you wouldn't win in a million years and she can see you're scared, you don't move a damn inch from in between them

she doesn't say anything to you while it's happening or while anyone else is around, but when you're on the roof, after chad's come to help you, staring out into the city, she finds you alone against her better judgement, and asks if you're okay

you give her a weak smile, say "no," and she nods and just sits next to you for a while. you don't say anything either, but you appreciate it

tara slowly opens up to you more. she actually starts to listen when you speak, and what she finds is that you're so much smarter, and sweeter, than she realised. you share a lot of similar interests she had missed until that point, and you bring her a sense of peace and happiness, whenever she sees you

even though sam still struggles to see you as one of them, tara finds herself defending you now, and with it, realising she just might want you more than as her friend

she hasn't had a crush that intensely childlike since amber, and now that you're there, she's a bit apprehensive

but you're you, and things happen, and you kiss one night, over at her apartment, while you're watching a movie. you're both with your eyes locked on the screen, until the music swells and suddenly you're looking at each other. It happens so quickly but it feels so right.

when you ask her if she's okay with this and if she's comfortable, it makes her heart flutter in a way she doesn't feel she deserves

she's definitely apprehensive about letting your relationship grow. ghostface has brought her life a hell that she doesn't want you to experience it. but you remind her thousands of hells are worth it to be with her every day

you finally get together on a warm summer day, right after your semester has ended

now that tara's experienced a life with you, she's upset that she had to live a life before

she clings to your chest and loves to lay on top of you, on the sofa. she doesn't seem like she would be, but she's a massive cuddler. she didn't have much physical affection as a child, with her mom and sam being gone, and so she makes up for lost time by hugging or hand holding whenever she can

you guys have silly arguments, where it's clear neither of you are taking your side especially seriously, and you argue the most outrageous things. you'll make her laugh until there are tears in her eyes and then tackle her in a hug

whenever you're running late for morning classes, ninety-nine percent of the time, it's because tara begged you for five more minutes to cuddle in bed, or just straight-up wouldn't roll off you, even when you reminded her you had to go.

she's little spoon sized, but she actually loves being big spoon, because she'll squeeze you against her and hold you tight. when she wakes up in a cold sweat, having a nightmare about woodsboro, you're right there, peacefully sleeping, and it helps her calm down and ground herself

she had a thing for a while, about not wanting you to see the scars on her stomach. she thought they meant she was damaged, and tara insisted you guys fucked in the dark for a while, until you asked her directly about it one day, like the good communicator you are

tara tends to bury her head in the sand when it comes to being direct to talk to you about something, but you communicate well

upon explanation, you insist nothing could make her ugly to you. she cries when you say you'll love her no matter what, and you see her completely in the light. your look of awe at her beauty, and your tender fingers reaching out to brush against it, just make her fall even harder

idk what else to put, did i yap for a long time?

okay so i kind of want to make this a story now? would you be down

[hippiegoth97]

Random Spencer Reid Thought #1

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, fem!reader, bau!reader, new relationship, sex at work, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, fingering, no use of Y/N, caught in the act (kinda, at the end), fluff

Some Tags: @hotwritergf @melodymunson @rafeyscurtainbangs @mediocredreams @loserboysandlithium

@bloodibambiidoll @littlexdeaths @sanctumdemunson @cairro-xx @veemoon (tbh I wasn't sure who all to tag, so I tagged some moots and people I know usually read my stuff. Feel free to ignore if it's not your thing tho lol)

"I swear to god, you're gonna get us caught one of these days, Reid." You say breathlessly, tugging on Spencer's tie to keep his lips close to yours. You'd dragged him into a nearby supply closet after the rest of the team had dispersed for lunch, most of them heading to a new BBQ place nearby. They'd asked you and Spencer to come along, but you've both had much more pressing things on your mind.

From the second you came in this morning (separately, of course, even though he'd stayed the night at your place), your eyes have wandered from your work to each other's desks from across the cluster. It's been absolute torture, forced to sit so far apart, unable to touch each other or whisper all the dirty things you plan to do later. All you had to get yourself by was vivid thoughts of Spencer tossing his papers away, stalking over to you, and bending you over your desk to fuck you silly. You're sure he was picturing similar filthy things, given how often he cleared his throat and crossed or uncrossed his legs. Although, the ideas inside his head are usually more centered around getting down on his knees and burying his face between your thighs. It's a wonder that nobody seemed to notice your discomfort, really. The amount of stolen glances and fidgeting in your seats are certainly behaviors that should set off a profiler's internal alarms. But, thus far, you've managed to fly just below everyone's radar.

You've been seeing each other for a few months now, keeping it a secret from everybody else. It started off as a fluke date shortly after you joined the BAU team, and Spencer took a shine to your quick wit and bottomless well of intellect in no time at all. He'd asked you out for coffee (after a barrage of peer-pressuring encouragement from Morgan), wanting to show you around a bit as you were new to the area at the time. Spencer was a complete gentleman, opening the door for you, pulling out your chair, offering you his jacket when you got cold. Add on the way you talked one another's ears off about everything under the sun, moon and stars, and you were hooked on each other in an instant. Neither of you had met anyone who could keep up, or maintain your interest before. By the time he walked you home that night, you shared in the knowledge that this...spark you felt was something special.

Things progressed rather quickly from there. You've gone out together at least once a week, even sneaking out at night during cases to get some quality time in. A dinner here, a tipsy make-out in either of your hotel rooms there, as well as more educational outings to the planetarium, various lectures, and art exhibits when you're at home base. It didn't take long to heat things up, either. Spencer was less experienced than you, having only a couple casual hook-ups under his belt, which went as awkwardly as one would expect. But you were patient with him, showing him what you like and what you don't, helping him figure out the same for himself. It was a simultaneously experimental and exhilarating experience for you both when you finally had sex the first time.

And now, here you are, all wandering hands and moaning mouths in a closet full of office supplies. Spencer's got you sitting on a metal filing cabinet, legs spread in your pencil skirt as he stands between them. His large hands grip and squeeze your thighs, while he rolls his hips to press his erection against your clothed cunt. "Don't act as if the idea of getting found out doesn't turn you on." Spencer teases, smiling against your lips as you tug him forward into another kiss.

"Maybe a little." You admit, letting his tongue slip into your mouth. Your eyes drift closed, and you feel his hand slowly slip further down your leg and under your skirt. His lithe fingers pull your panties to the side, rubbing sensual circles around your clit. You moan down his throat, your own hands reaching blindly for his belt now. You don't have a lot of time, as much as you hate to rush this.

"We should tell them soon. It's only a matter of time before they catch on." Spencer suggests, slipping two fingers into your soaked pussy with ease. The sound he ends up swallowing from your lungs makes his dick twitch inside his pants. Never in his life did he think he'd be so lucky to find a woman like you, or a woman at all, for that matter. Spencer enjoys every moment spent with you like it's his last, and it's been nice existing in this safe romantic bubble. But sneaking around has its disadvantages, namely having to keep his hands to himself when you're around the team. Far be it from Reid to be unprofessional in any sense, but, fuck, it's so hard to behave when you're around.

"I know, Penelope's been dropping lots of extra hints lately." You say with a light laugh, your insides boiling as Spencer curls his digits inside of you. They're perfectly long and slender, reaching all the right places every time. He's made you come with them alone on many occasions.

"I noticed. She's not very subtle." Reid chuckles, his gaze drifting down as you manage to get his belt unfastened. You waste no time in undoing to button and zip, reaching inside his boxers to grab hold of his aching length. According to you, he's very well endowed. Even though he's aware the average size of male genitalia is 5.1 inches when erect, he's never gotten curious enough to measure himself. A brief visual guess probably puts him at around seven or eight, not that he's all that concerned about it. All he cares about it making you happy, and his mind is far too vast to be fixated on how long his cock is.

"I don't think she ever has been." You comment, eyes focused on Spencer's dick in your grasp. He's rock solid, his tip rosy pink and leaking pearlescent precum. The sight makes your pussy throb around Reid's fingers. If you had more time, you'd drop to your knees in an instant.

"And that's why we love her." Spencer adds, groaning as you stroke him nice and slow. The both of you keep this up for a moment, zeroing in on one another's most sensitive areas that you've craved all day. Soft sighs and moans leave your mouths, mingling with the wet schlick sounds of your foreplay. "But, enough about the team." He says softly, meeting your gaze. His free hand cups your cheek, drawing you in closer as you stare into his beautiful brown eyes. "This moment is just for us." He nearly whispers as he kisses you deeply, lovingly. Neither of you have dropped the 'L' word yet, though you both certainly feel it for one another. But the time to say it definitely isn't during a lunchtime quickie in a damn closet. The occasion will present itself, at a later date.

While Spencer has your attention captured in the kiss, he gently takes his cock from your grasp and into his own. He gasps against you, tangling his tongue with yours to make your knees weak, just like you taught him. He gives his dick a couple fervent strokes, taking his fingers out of your cunt so he can line himself up. You whine at the loss, though your stomach twists in anticipation of what will soon take their place. Using his pruned fingers to hold your panties to the side, the sticky tip of Spencer's cock nudges against your center. More moans brew within your throats, kept hidden inside to prevent you from being discovered.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, hands tangling in his hair as you melt into him. His lips and tongue make you feel dizzy with lust, and his cockhead rutting against your folds is sending you into orbit. "Spence, please. I need you, baby." You plead between desperate kisses.

"I need you, too, you have no idea." Reid replies, pulling back just a moment so he can see what he's doing. He positions his dick at your entrance, and pushes inside at an agonizing pace. Low moans escape you both, you at the stretch, and him at the squeeze. "Fuck, you're so wet." Spencer says, trying to keep his cool.

"All for you, Spence." You say sweetly, locking your ankles behind his back, pulling him as close to you as possible with your legs. His hands return to your thighs, holding on tight as he begins to thrust.

Spencer starts off slow, watching as his cock pumps in and out of your pussy with no resistance. Your arousal makes him all shiny in the dim light, already forming a creamy ring around his base. "God, you're perfect." He exhales, unable to think of a single thing that looks as beautiful as this. The two of you, becoming one, your interlocking parts sculpted by nature to fit together flawlessly. Nothing within his expansive memory could possibly compare.

"So are you, baby. Can you go faster? We're running out of time." You beg pathetically, needing this release before you inevitably have to go back to work filling out papers and looking over crime scene photos.

"I hate how right you are about that." Spencer replies with a broken sigh, picking up speed with his thrusts. The infallibly accurate internal clock you share is ticking down, every push of his hips against yours marking each second that's taken from you. He plants his lips on yours again, focusing on giving you what those desperate noises you're making are telling him. You need him, all of him. Every last inch rutting into your sopping cunt until you see stars. And when it comes to you, Reid always aims to please.

"Fuck, Spence, just like that." You pant between fervent kisses, marveling at the way his cock pounds into your g-spot with flawless precision. The coil of arousal you've been building up since you sat down with your coffee this morning ripples and tangles with every thrust.

It becomes rather difficult for Spencer to keep kissing you when his pace picks up even more. His head falls forward, resting on your shoulder as he continues to wind you both up towards ecstasy. He turns his head slightly, hatching the naughty idea to speak lowly in your ear. "I can't wait until we get home later, and I can take my time with you." He says, trying so hard not to let the loud groans he wants to emit come through. They come out as hushed whimpers instead, which only turns you on more.

"Fuck." You let out a small noise of your own, muted as you bite down on your lower lip. But he hears it all the same, and keeps going.

"I'll spend all night touching you in all your favorite places, fuck you until the sun comes up, make you cry out for me as many times as you ask me to." His words are equally filthy and adoring, showing you just how much he wants to worship you and your body. Chills run up and down your spine as he speaks, his breath burning hot against your neck. It's nearly too much, and yet, you can't enough.

"God, Spence, please don't stop!" You moan, far too loudly.

"Now who's gonna get us caught?" Reid teases, even though the way you squealed nearly made him blow his load entirely.

"Sorry...sorry..." You pant the words out, for fear of being too loud again.

"It's okay, baby. I like knowing just how good I make you feel." He coos to you, almost sending you over the edge. Your walls squeeze around him tightly in warning. His breath catches at the sensation, right there with you in terms of how close you are to reaching climax. "God, that's it...you're so close, so am I. Gonna make you cum, gonna make you feel so good, I swear...so fucking good..." Spencer's mind sprints faster than his mouth can get the words out, barely audible as he buries himself further into your neck. He slams himself into you even harder, faster, chasing his release and dragging you alongside him.

"Spencer, oh my god." You gasp as he hits that perfect place inside you cunt even better than before, his hips pounding against yours hard enough to leave bruises. His hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, his mouth sucking and licking at your neck in a feverish need to make you lose control. It's definitely working, the waves of bliss beginning to roll over you in thick crashes. "Oh, god, make me cum, baby...don't stop, you feel so good..." You babble mindlessly as your insides flutter around Reid's dick, threatening to clamp down on him at any moment. "Fuck, oh, I'm gonna cum...oh, god- fuck...oh, spenceSpenceSPENCE!" You clap a hand over your mouth to conceal your scream as your orgasm takes hold. You tremble violently in Spencer's grip, your pussy strangling him with all its might. Stars blur your vision, pure pleasure coursing through your veins at lightning speed. You cling to him, nails clawing at his back, heels digging into his ass helplessly.

"Fuck-ing- god." Spencer stutters out as you squeeze him so tight, biting down hard into your neck to muffle the load groan rushing from his chest. He pierces you sloppily through his release, painting your eager walls with thick ropes of sticky white, hips stuttering and feral grunts leaving him with every stab of his spent cock. He gradually comes to a stop as your shared high subsides, pulling his softening length from you, watching as your mixed release flows from your now-sore cunt. He reaches into his pocket for a kerchief he keeps for such occasions, gazing adoringly into your lust-drunk eyes as he cleans you up. He would use his mouth, if there were time for such things.

You gasp as the soft fabric meets your puffy lips, never breaking Spencer's stare while he takes care of you. You've never felt more in love in your life than you do right now, with your legs still spread wide open, while this gorgeous, scrawny, genius wipes your combined spend away. Once you're all clean, he pulls your skirt back down over your legs, and puts his flaccid cock inside his pants, fastening the belt with casual ease. He helps you down from the cabinet, noting your wobbling legs as you stand in your sensible heels.

"All set?" He asks, earning a giggle from you as his hair has become more of a mess than usual.

"Almost." You say softly, smoothing down his unruly locks to look more presentable, and less like you two just went to town on each other over lunch. "Well, we'd better get back out there. The others should be arriving back now." You say, heading for the door first. You hate to leave at all, but the last thing you need is to get caught right now.

"I'll wait the three minutes, and meet you back in there." Three minutes, the amount of time you'd determined was appropriate enough to excuse you both coming back to the bullpen near the same time without raising suspicion. No one bats an eye at three minutes difference. It could be explained away as a coffee refill, a bathroom break, anything really. But returning at the same time? Or leaving this small room at the same time? Out of the question. You'd made the mistake of returning at the same time once, and you didn't hear the end of it from the team for a good three days, despite the assertion that you and Reid had been in separate places at the time.

"Okay. See you then." You nod, giving him a quick kiss. You open the door, checking to see if the coast is clear. Satisfied with your findings, you step out from the closet, closing the door behind you. You're about to turn and walk in the direction of the bullpen, when you end up smack dab in front of Penelope. You have no idea where she came from just now, or how long she's been hiding out. But the sly smirk on her face tells you she knows enough. "Hey, Garcia. How was your lunch?" You ask nervously, failing to play it cool.

"Oh, it was good. I brought some leftover eggplant parmesan from home." Penelope replies, nearly bursting with the knowledge that you and Reid have indeed been hooking up, as she rightly suspected. "How was yours?" She asks coyly, biting her lip as she expects you to spill all the gory details she couldn't hear through the door.

"It was...fine. I packed a lunch as well." You answer, clearing your throat.

"Oh, I'm sure you packed something. What did you have? Some sausage maybe? Or a footlong?" Penelope continues to tease, and at this point, you know the jig is up.

"Oh, alright! Yes, I did! You happy now?" You exclaim, rolling your eyes as your arms cross out of reflex.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Garcia chuckles, doing one of the dorkiest victory dances you've ever seen. The few passersby give her a sideways glance, but she doesn't pay them any mind.

"Okay, okay!" You put your hands on her shoulders to still her, meeting her eyes. "Look, can you just promise me you won't say anything? Spencer and I plan to tell everyone when the time is right, but we like keeping this thing to ourselves for now. Alright?" You implore with her to keep her mouth shut, for your sake, as your friend, and Spencer's.

"Yeah, I can do that." She nods in understanding, pulling you in for a hug. "I'm so happy for you guys!" She squeals, getting excited again.

"Thanks, Garcia. I appreciate that." You smile, returning her embrace.

"So do I." Spencer says from the other side of the door.

"You better treat her right, pretty boy! Or mama is gonna get you!" Penelope warns with all the love in the world.

"I fully intend to." Spencer replies, and you can practically see his lovesick expression from out here, and how his eyes must be looking straight at where he imagines you're standing, meaning every one of those four simple words.

[yonseibananamilk]

“𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒎𝒆."

synopsis 𓂃𓈒𓍼ོ living with fyodor was the same as living without him. however, the night of his return reminds you, embarrassingly so, just how close the two of you are. literally. (~4k wc)

a/n 𓇢𓆸 i think i may or may not be starting to hate my writing BUT i really stretched beyond what im used to in certain parts of this and i am quite proud of myself for that ^^

content 𓍼ོ𓂃𓈒 canon compliant, suggestive themes(especially around the end), fyodor is very cold temperature-wise, soft!fyodor(hes soft in his own way), references to my work song fic ! + connected directly to it will come back as it is a part 2 ^^

ᡣ𐭩 special special જ⁀➴ this fic is in collaboration with @musamora ‘s new talk!fic ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و please try to check hers out too if you can — shes a brilliant writer and a lovely person overall <3

Books upon books knitted themselves compact inside the towering shelves that pressed into the walls of what you assumed was Fyodor’s home. He had never called it his home, in fact, you explicitly remember when he did bring you here —

“Welcome to this humble abode. Feel free to touch and grab whatever you desire. Everything here belongs to you, дорогая.”

— Ever since that blind date (gone wrong(but then right in the end)), the Russian had let you stay for as long as you liked. One night led to two, which led into you bringing over a few things for just a few more nights.

Which led to you staying with Fyodor for nearly a month now.

You shook your head at the thought. If anything, he was the visitor. The man was hardly ever home, therefore you weren’t even living together. And you were, like anyone else with experience in a leaky apartment, eager to accept a place as generous as this.

The house held two stories; the first floor with the living room, foyer, and utilities, and the second floor with the bathroom and bedroom. Not to mention there was even an accessible attic-study.

In the beginning, he had stayed the night with you on the couch while you remained upstairs. But it had been weeks since then. Your Russian companion, much to your dismayed crocodile tears, was now predominantly busy with his ‘mission’. You couldn’t argue with that.

Though, on one of the times when Fyodor did stay longer than just a few hours…

“Please? I don’t mind, I swear! Besides, we’re both adults, not some teenagers that’ll go off at the first brush of skin. You don’t have to sleep on the couch..!”

You didn’t want to admit that you had actually stained the sofa downstairs on the first day of being here — even if Fyodor knew about it already, with all his observance — and it also felt… wrong to have him sleep on the couch. Cold. In the dark. And very, very, very lonely.

With a desperate and dramatic gesture of your arms, you tried to make the bed as dreamy as possible to his cherry wine eyes. “See? So comfy!”

To prove your point even further, you jumped on yourself with a muffled noise in the comforter.

“How amusing.”

Your point was most certainly not taken.

Therefore, you began to deflate into the sheets. Even more muffled now, and perhaps even softer than before, you mumbled out — “Is ‘modesty’ really the only reason why you won’t share anything with me?”

Everything in the room stilled. As if gauging the weight behind your words. Then, faintly, a gust of a sigh fell into the golden air of your nearby nightlamp. The candle flame was tickled into a dance thanks to the Russian, twisting and spinning hypnotically.

So hypnotically that you failed to catch the shift in the bed beside your head.

Not until a chilled hand fell atop your head. Bony fingers of ice itself urged your face up and away from the fire. Your attention was rewarded with a smooth, humming smile.

“There is more, дорогая.” He admitted. “But those reasons have nothing to do with you. After all, you are the sole reason why I would like to sleep here.”

Briefly, so much so where you barely even caught it this time — a thumb brushed over your lips. Cherry wine eyes batted down at you, reflecting the flame behind your burning face. Like the sun was the center of his very being.

“Then why don’t you?”

As his thumb curled into the corner of your lips, the rest of his hand glided over your skin. Two fingers read the curves of your jawline. Its adjacent pair followed down to the side of your neck.

He could grab your entire head with ease.

Fluttering ties in your stomach unraveled and twisted again in an endless heap of knots. Why wasn’t he saying anything? What was he thinking of? Why is he getting closer?

A chilled breath brought respite to your burning cheeks. But only for a moment.

Why is he moving away?

“Be wary of the fatigue that will eat you, if you do not sleep soon, дорогая.”

Pale feet revisited the cold, yet still warmer than him, floors. Wood welcomed him with a tired creak, following the man’s every step until he reached the doorway. By then, you had turned off your back to finally face him yourself.

“But I’m not tired.” Horribly, a yawn tore through your last syllable. The heaviness of your eyelids was never apparent until now.

Another amused hum brought you back to the Russian before you, hand on the knob as he smirked down at you. Slowly, the sharp edges of his little grin faded into something softer, fuzzier.

A smile, he had gifted you.

“If you are not tired…” Your heart skipped a beat, anticipating every little thing for his next suggestion. As if crying out — “What? Yes? What is it?”

“Then remember this: there is danger in giving into one’s desires, дорогая.” Icy red eyes rove over your laden figure with an unreadable spark. He always looked at you so curiously.

“I would be wise to not fall victim to such dangers. As would you.”

The closing door halted itself instantly when you let out the smallest of huffs.

“My offer still stands…” With a dragging breath of protest, you fell underneath the blankets.

Black swirls encapsulated your mind as you managed to spin his words effortlessly; “Remember this: there is reward for passing through danger.”

…

Unknowingly shooting through the Russian’s morale — you fell asleep with the same singular weight of your own on the bed. However, the door was still ajar in the morning upon your awakening.

But that moment was weeks ago. The memory of it proven by the clear frown on your lips — twitching up and down every now and then based on whatever the book you read said.

You wouldn’t spend your time thinking about someone who wouldn’t even give you so much as a clear answer to ‘How was your day?’

A creak of wood whipped your head around in urgence. Only for nothing to be there.

Nothing but a pang of disappoint. All at the absence of a certain Russian.

Well. Maybe you would spend a bit of your time.

With a ruffled sigh you fell back against the chair, pages still in hand as the grandfather clock behind you whisked the day away. These moments of solitude had become a daily part of your life — ever since popping out of Fyodor’s floorboards like a daisy in the snow.

But they might as well have been your floorboards too.

The creak of wood glided past your ears. Followed by the light shuffle of a coat being draped over the rack nearby. Then the ghosts of footsteps slowly but surely making their way toward the living room.

“Hm?”

Much to his amusement, there you sat. Old book in hand atop the gentle rise and fall of your chest. In a peaceful slumber too.

“How adorable.” The R rolled after his deep chuckle, growing slightly in volume as he drew closer to your laden frame. “Falling asleep to folktales, are we? Hm, дорогая?”

Frostbite ghosted over your cheek. A chill fell over your fingertips — the lingering absence of your now-taken book. Burgundy eyes flitted over the title with a deep hum.

Surprisingly enough, you had managed to find one of the few English books that hid in his shelves. The vast majority were Russian(as he wasn’t the best with learning new languages).

“Orpheus and Eurydice?” His tongue read. “Now what on Earth compelled you to read such a tale..?”

Firewood slid off one another as it ate away at itself in incessant hunger. A desire for something warmer than what it already had. A rod poked it stable in no time.

“Perhaps my дорогая is more romantic than she lets on. It makes me wonder…”

The shadows around him chuckled in tandem before, again, rippling as the fireplace was muted once more.

‘What a foolish thought.’ His brain reprimanded.

Yet his heart leapt not once, but twice — as you began to slowly stir awake. With orange light painted across the dips of your babbling lips in a silent dance with dark.

“Uah… who’s there..?”

Raven locks fell to the side as he tilted towards you slowly. Akin to an animal watching something unusual. Unexplainable. Unimaginable. A thick silence filled the air as Fyodor lagged to translate your words — no thanks to the strange foreign tingling south of his head — all by the sight of you.

‘How vulnerable.’ He mused. ‘How adorable.’

Despite knowing full well what was coming out his lips — despite knowing just what it could risk for him —

“Федя is here.”

He had willingly revived something. Something that had lied dormant for dozens of hundreds of years. All for you. You and your daftly half-conscious state. He hadn’t been called such a simple name since childhood.

And since his family was alive.

Despite his already-dissipating regret, icy tips glided reverently over the crown of your head. The locks of it threaded like yarn. Each part sifted through like flour. The back of it all was cupped tightly — encouraging your limp head to face him.

“Fe… diya…?”

Oh how adorable you were. So sleepy you couldn’t even pronounce a simple nickname. A diminutive. An endearment.

Nor could you realize how special you were right now. Though, that was the norm at this point.

“Yes. Can you indulge Fedya for a moment, дорогая?” The Russian cooed with a smile both condescendingly familiar, and unrecognizably tender.

Your whined nod was enough to coax him closer. Arms atop the sides of the chair. Frosted breath wafting just shy of your pulse.

“Can you tell Fedya what you were thinking of? Hm?”

Lithe fingers haunted the cover of your little folktale with echoed taps. His cherry wine gaze hooked onto the half-lidded glaze in your eyes.

“Tell him what you were thinking of when reading such a story?”

As slurred syllables pooled from your tongue, Fyodor locked himself onto every quiver, bite, and sound. Each was greedily soaked into the prodigy’s mind — held in higher regard than any mazed tactic.

Although just as half-lidded as yours, his eyes were far more awake than they had been during his accursed mission earlier.

After all, if Fyodor knew such a sweet sight waited for him here — he would’ve destroyed everything in his path to get back as soon as possible.

Frosted breath ghosted over the angle of your jaw, waiting patiently for something more.

“I… I thought that Eurydice was very lucky to have been loved so dearly... Regardless of what happened at the end.”

Black brows rose at you. “Lucky?”

“Yes. I’m a bit envious — being loved so dearly is…” A shake of the head pauses your sleepy train of thought. With a deep breath, your head reclined further into the plush of your seat before correcting yourself.

“Being loved is a very lucky thing indeed.”

Well weren’t you the lucky one?

The gentle squeaks of the couch were thankfully muffled by your weight, settling further and further into its cotton fabric. Your warmth soaked into it well. Though, much of that warmth was the fire’s — which only seemed to be growing.

Just along the edges of your peripheral, a certain smiling Russian was also present — leaned over your shoulder closely. Close enough for the scent of black tea to flood your nostrils yet again.

“Could you imagine it?”

A chill ran over the hairs on the nape of your neck. Fyodor’s breath was cold. His lips too.

“Imagine being loved…?” Your voice was far softer than expected. “I… suppose it would be nice. Very nice, in fact. I’d like to be cared about…”

Shifting your eyes, the golden text of the book was now being circled by Fyodor’s idle fingers. Lithe enough to perfectly recreate the intricate cursive. And cold enough to make you shudder at the mere sight.

Nonetheless — the image of such hands snug around you was as warm as the shared fireplace.

“Wouldn’t everyone?” He cooed. Slender fingertips rhythmically tapped atop the book cover.

“Being loved…” Cherry wine eyes reflected the orange fire beside you. “Or wanted…”

You swallowed a lump in your throat that certainly wasn’t there before.

“Is a very human desire.”

Another swallow. Glued to the fiddling hands in your lap, your heart leaped with you upon asking;

“Do you desire it as well?”

Briefly did his eyes widen.

It was borderline impossible to catch Fyodor off-guard. But, as luck would have it, you succeeded at it like any other mundane task. You always did.

It’d be terrifying if not so attractive.

“I suppose…” Once unoccupied fingers found their way atop your shoulder. Chills ran through your arm. As well as an unwelcome spark through your entire body. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

A flicker of your shared fireplace caught your eye. Avoiding the piercing gaze of Fyodor Dostoevsky as he, much to your confusion, stared into your very essence. It was as if he was analyzing every curve and groove before completely committing it to memory.

That sly, condescending chuckle reeled you home to him. All semblance of earlier surprise had drained from his eyes. “What a curious question, дорогая. Were you picturing it in your mind?”

Blackberry strands fell against the white fabric of his shirt, flowing in tandem with the inching of his face.

“Thinking… pondering… wondering…”

Orange light danced within the seeds of his eyes.

“Imagining what it’d be like to be loved by me?”

You didn’t know whether to fuse with the couch or disappear completely.

Whatever happened to the fire danced over your already-burning cheeks — radiating against the chill of Fyodor’s face as he bordered closer and closer.

“Can you imagine it?”

Close enough to count each eyelash.

Close enough to taste the scent of black tea and iron on your tongue.

Close enough to feel the subtle heat of his cheeks.

“Imagine being loved by me?”

Your lower lip began to tremble. Sweat sprinkled from your shaky palms. That same spark shocked you from head to toe yet again.

Everything felt heavy. Heavy and warm.

And your nose itched. Itched and twitched. You couldn’t help but sniff — which only amplified the hot water in your eyes — already glittering in your lashes. The unsaid border between the two of you dwindled like a candle in the wind.

All you knew was that you were sweaty, shaky, and far too warm to be considered normal.

A snort caught itself in his throat. While perfectly timed with just how stiff you were getting, your little sniffle was not out of embarrassment. Simply an incoming sneeze that he would gladly bless you for in: 3, 2—

“Achoo!”

…

He did not want to finish that countdown.

“Woah…! I got my boogers on your face! Hah!”

“That you did.” The Russian begrudgingly muttered, closed eyes subtly twitching under the weight of your giggles and dabbing sleeve. “Bless you.”

Despite all your unceremonious, uncouth, undisciplined whatnots — the sheepish smile you flashed to him was hardly ignored. “Thank you… Did it get in your eye?”

“Fortunately not.”

“Aww. Better luck next time then.”

The caught snort from before clawed its way out of Fyodor and into a throaty, hearty, genuine laugh.

No cocky chuckles. No sadistic grins. No sly hums.

Just a normal laugh. With golden fire reflecting off the sides of his face like framing sunrays. And a usually imperceptible ombre of deep magenta in his otherwise black hair — thanks to the generous amount of light the fireplace provided a few feet away.

Sure, it was akin to the cawing of crows at the crack of dawn — Fyodor most certainly hadn’t laughed like that in what seemed like centuries. But it was touching nonetheless.

Very much so.

“It’s rude to stare, дорогая.”

It was even harder to look away when he was smiling so warmly.

“I bet Orpheus wouldn’t think Eurydice was rude — even when her boogers got in his eye.”

An unfamiliar emptiness frosted over your shoulder when the Russian leaned away. “Perhaps, дорогая. Perhaps.”

You couldn’t recall a time when he was ever so warm.

“There are no more wool blankets.” The Russian patted through the wooden cabinets with a small hum. “Дорогая, you wouldn’t happen to know where they are, would you?”

Looking over his shoulder, a cherry wine gaze poured over your freshly showered & dressed body. You learned to always stay snug for the cold that managed to occasionally sneak its nightly way past the fireplace — crackling happily a hallway down.

You hummed back, offering the man a smile warm enough to rival it. “I do.”

“And whatever happened to them?” Knowing lips cooed. The answer fell sweeter when it was from your tongue than his mind.

“I put them in the attic because they scratched at my face,” Rubbing at your arms, a wave of apology washed over you. Maybe Fyodor preferred blankets that way? Scratchy and itchy. He was a strange man after all.

Even more strange now that he was finally content with sharing a bed. You don’t think you’d ever seen a man smile for so long. However eerie though, at the end of the night, it was… endearing.

Tonight, he had changed out of the usual wear for war(or whatever he did outside of the house) — a fluffy white robe wrapped snug around Fyodor. Tied together by the loose cotton belt.

“And so you have been sleeping in a single blanket? Instead of the multiple wool ones I had given you?” The urge to hang your head was woefully strong. You opted to shuffle your feet instead.

“Yes, Fyodor. I… I can give you the blanket for the night if that’s what you want?”

Briefly, his roving eyes met yours. With a small lilt of his voice, which was another strange way of expressing amusement for him, the Russian cooed; “And leave a woman to fend for herself against the cold?”

Another spark of warmth crackled under your skin. The sensation swam through your bones in a melting frenzy that burned your face once it reached it.

“T-then we can share…?”

Cherry eyes crinkled in delight.

“Wonderful idea, дорогая.”

As your knees slowly crawled up to meet your chest, the sway of his hair encapsulated you in a garden of imagination — with cherry wine eyes to drink and straight locks that rivaled shades of the ripest blackberries. Such sweet attributes for such a cold man.

Literally. He was colder than the air itself when sitting on your bed. The man could’ve drunken up all the warmth in the room, and still ask for more.

“You’re freezing!” You whined out, curling into a shuddering ball. “Maybe you should take that blanket, you might as well take the ones in the attic too.”

A frown quipped its brows at you. Yet, despite all his shown annoyance, there lacked a general sense of danger that once lived within.

Every glare was now punctuated with a cooing riddle of warning but quickly followed by a soft smile — imperceivable to all he knew. Excusing you.

“And I assume that means you are warmer? Hm?”

“Well, duh. I’ve been soaking in the fireplace all day waiting for you.”

“Oh?”

Under the gentle fire of your candlelit bedside, a meek coral bloomed across the slim cheeks of his face. His ears were red too — how long had he been that way?

“So, you were waiting for me?”

“Yes.” An exasperated breath left you feeling flustered and confused.

“Diligently?”

“And I was very lonely the whole time.”

A sense of deja vu sprung over you like a freshly pouring fountain.

Candlelight brewed against his face. Cherry wine eyes raked over your every inch. Pale skin, now painted with pink, smoothly approached closer and closer and closer —

Until the two of you are face to face once again. Illuminated only by generous candlelight and warmed by a singular blanket, except for Fyodor leeching off your heat.

“Дорогая, if I didn’t know better, I’d assume you thought we were married. With you waiting so, what was the word...?"

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

"Ah yes. Diligently for my arrival.”

Freezing fingertips grazed along the bridge of your jaw. Dancing over the skin like whistling air, then halting at the chin. Two fingers held it gently, softly, reverently even.

“Though, my words are not necessarily a complaint.”

Candlelight pooled over the side of his face, glistening in the corners of Fyodor’s eyes like water lanterns at nighttime. You could only hope he was staring at you because you looked just as beautiful.

Gulping, a strained noise tumbled from your lips —

“Oh? Whining now?” A chilling thumb ran over the shine of your bottom lip. He was closing in.

“I did not whine.” Your voice cracked. “I just—”

Words left you. Tumbling freely from your throat in an entanglement of broken syllables and whines.

And with each mishap, his grin only grew. Evident by the crinkled underside of his trailing gaze.

At long last, a semblance of defense clicked into mind — spilling out with almost-paralyzing heat inside. And yes. Your voice cracked a second time.

“You caught me off-guard!”

“I did?” He crooned. The weight of your blanket was peeled off — making way for Fyodor to finally join you. Which you would’ve been over the moon about — if your thoughts weren’t so scrambled. You only hoped his were, too.

Every restrained laugh. Every languid movement. Everything he did — you prayed that he felt even a semblance of the bashfulness you did. Maybe then, it wouldn’t feel so embarrassing.

“Oh, дорогая.” Frostbitten lips sighed. “You truly are adorable.”

Time melted into an infinity of simply you and Fyodor. With your brain dry of anything else to say, and his hopefully the same. With one last strained noise, you turned away to bury yourself into the cotton of your now-shared bed.

A candlelit silence bloomed over.

As the sheets’ soft heaviness cradled back over you, Fyodor included now, the man slid himself behind your burning face — peacefully watching the uncharacteristic heat fizz out of your little head.

Blackberry locks stretched over the expanse of the pillow like grape vines across a fence.

Amid all your muffled sounds, the cotton had begun to seep a sense of sleep into your skin, added on by Fyodor’s granted silence. With a sniffle, you reluctantly let go of his blundering words — slowly but surely relaxing into the candlelight bed. But not without an evident pout.

A haze of warmth enwrapped you. Cozy.

The edges of consciousness were held by none other than a familiar pair of cold hands. Which slithered their way around your waist — pulled you snugly against their owner’s body — allowing him to soak in the feast of your body heat.

Oddly enough, as the Russian slid himself closer, not an inch of his frigid temperature leaked into yours. Quite the opposite.

Your slumbering body thawed away at his cold one.

Save for one place that did not need any more warming. Like his cheeks, for example. Or elsewhere.

taglist ᯓᡣ𐭩 @aureatchi @soleelia + people that also wanted to be added but please know time is my greatest enemy

translations! (these are rough translations, and if there are any inaccuracies please let me know)

дорогая - ‘darling’ i just cant envision fedya saying ‘baby’. darling is the only accurate one.

thank you so much to @musamora for betareading again !!! she is quite literally the sweetest writer i know and this fic couldnt be possible without her ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)���♡

also thanks to @/saradika-graphics for all the wonderful dividers! the images for the banner were either found on pinterest or edited by yours truly <3 thank you for reading !

© yonseibananamilk 2024 - please refrain from copying, plagiarizing and/or reposting my works on other platforms. reblogs, notes, and comments are very appreciated!

[minus-plus-zer0]

Fireworks Festival With Bakugou Headcanons

♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Foreign!Reader

Bakugou has agreed to go with you to the local fireworks festival!

It wasn't that hard to get him to agree. It only took tons and tons of targeted harassment.

But it's okay because you're sure he's gonna have a great time!

(He actually doesn't mind going at all, he just wanted to see exactly how excited you were)

Because you grew up in a different country, you've never been to a bona fide fireworks festival before and you're really eager to see everything you possibly can.

Bakugou says he has already seen the damn thing too many times before and it doesn't get better. But he just happened to have some free time so he allowed you to drag him along.

This is at least partially a lie. but maybe you don't know that. You say if it makes him that upset you can just go alone because you don't want to bother him. He actually appreciates the thought and he says he's not that bothered. He's grabbing your wrist and pulling you to the festival. Now he's the one dragging YOU along!

Bakugou is great at all of the games. Even when he was a kid, he was widely feared by the festival stall workers due to his skill (and attitude). The shooting stalls banned him one year.

You keep trying to beat him at these games to show you're not weak, but you can't really beat years and years of experience within one day. However, with enough hard work you manage to at least be better than him at goldfish scooping.

Bakugou just doesn't have the patience for it. The fish truly have made an enemy of him today. >:(

At least you're happy. Your little fish is going to have a good time swimming around in your bedroom, hopefully away from Bakugou's rising temper.

Bakugou offers to pay for your guys' food. He probably gets himself some weirdly spicy takoyaki and yakisoba. If you end up liking what he's eating, he might share it with you! All you have to do is ask. You find it easy to chat with him as you finish your food, even though most of the conversation involves him criticizing the meals. He likes that you listen to all his shit.

Bakugou leads you to a good secluded spot to view the fireworks. He's always gone here alone and he hasn't told anyone about it to make sure it would stay that way. That is, until you came along! Welcome to the private life of Bakugou Katsuki.

Bakugou admits to you that he's actually glad you brought him here, since if he didn't go he would've missed out on beating you at all of those games.

"Maybe next time I'll just invite someone else along. Midoriya might need a friend to tag along with."

"Oi. I was JOKING!"

Bakugou asks if you're cold since you're shivering a bit. The nighttime is looming over you two. You're also wondering if he's cold, so you put your hands to your face.

No, his face is quite warm. It's burning red, in fact. However he's now complaining that your hands feel like popsicles! He's holding your hand all the way back home thanks to that little stunt.

Mission accomplished.

[whosyuno]

hotel paradise (m) | ft. jung jaehyun

summary you visit an exclusive brothel to satisfy your needs. cw smut, praise, humiliation, toy play, light choking, squirting word count 3.1k a/n i'm thinking of turning this into a smut series featuring different members of nct hehe! chap two three

It’s only when you’ve spent half the night burrowing your vibrator between your thighs and it decided to die right before you’ve reached your climax, that you decided to take up your colleague’s suggestion. 

Fresh out of a break-up, you had moved to Seoul a few months back. The money here was better anyways and you wanted to forget all about your ex. All your highschool friends that had moved to Seoul always talked about how Seoul was the It-Place. Where the people were wild and parties were wilder. You thought you were finally going to find people that brought the much needed excitement and thrill you desired, particularly in your bedroom. Your ex-boyfriend, although your highschool sweetheart, wasn’t the best in bed and most of his attempts had left you feeling unsatisfied and yearning for more… fun.

Of course, nothing ever turned out the way you wanted and, now, six months into your stay in Seoul, you’ve never had anyone approach you, much less touch you. But when one of your colleagues-turned-friends caught wind of your little situation, she had casually introduced you to “just the place to get your needs sorted”. 

So that’s how, at 2:38AM on a Saturday, you found yourself standing before an unassuming building, its exterior the same dark maroon bricks as the surrounding buildings with a panel of frosted glass doors facing you. The light from within shone into the street, illuminating the empty night, if not for the lingering drunkards from the parties before. 

You glanced down at your phone, at an invitation message, as you took a moment to steel your resolve. You tried to push out the thoughts of doubt out of your head. In any case, if Hotel Paradise was exclusive enough to require an invitation by an existing member, then that must be a green flag, right?

You were immediately greeted by a bleach-blond haired lady when you walked through the doors. She looked neat and tidy, which calmed your anxieties about this being a sketchy brothel just a little. 

“Welcome to Hotel Paradise, I’m Taeyeon, what can I do for you?” she said, with a perfected customer service smile. 

You showed her your invitation message, and she made quick work in creating a membership for you in the system. 

“Any requests for tonight?” she asked and gestured towards the plaques in front of you.

Your cheeks were quick to turn pink at her direct question. You glanced over at the plaques on the surface of the reception desk. Laminated behind plastic, they detailed a list of 20 boys, with photos and a short list of their strengths. Amidst your fluster, you quickly pointed at the first one that caught your attention. Jung Jaehyun, Toy Play, Praise and Humiliation. 

“Okay,” she said as her freshly manicured fingers ran across her keyboard, “looks like he’s free currently. Is there anything else you’d like?”

You shook your head, mortified to share any more of your kinks with a stranger - kinks that you didn’t even share with your ex. 

It took a moment before Taeyeon motioned you to go up the spiral stairs behind the counter. Second room to your left, she mentioned. You swallowed your saliva, before walking into the room. 

The room was quite spacious, with egg-white paint coating the walls, a neatly made king-sized bed in the middle and a decent bathroom attached. If it wasn't for the row of sex toys placed on the table at the foot of the bed, you could have fooled anyone into thinking it was a room in any respectable hotel. 

“My, my, what a lovely guest,” the man in the middle of the room came to greet you. 

Immediately, you were captivated by his looks. You had picked him, for the most part, due to his photo. But looking at him in person was a whole other experience. His fluffy brown hair was carelessly tossed backwards with a few stray strands perfectly framing his face. His almond-shaped eyes were pressed into crescents and only god knew how hard you’d fall for his dazzling smile.

His hands reached over and removed the little shoulder bag that you had brought with you. And in a smooth motion, his arm slipped around your waist as he guided you to sit on the bed.  It was only now, sitting in front of Jaehyun, that you’d wished you had spent just a little more time in choosing a more appropriate outfit. In a rush to satisfy your needs and to save on laundry efforts, you had put on your office wear - a neat powder blue blouse tucked into wide legged black trousers - the same one that had worn to the office on Friday.

“Busy day, huh?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before resting his hand on your jawline. 

You nodded; your cheeks flushed against his warm touch. Your attention was entirely drawn in by him and his effortless charm.

“I’ll reward you for working hard,” he said before gently kissing you. 

His lips, soft and plump, pressed against yours softly, as if testing out the waters. Once, then twice. And another. When your arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer, his tongue skillfully parted your lips and darted into your mouth. He tasted like cool mint, and you caught a whiff of his sandalwood cologne. The intensity and fervour of the kiss only increased with each passing moment. Lust ignited a flame within you that spread across your body. 

He used his body weight and pushed you down on the bed, with one knee between your legs to balance. His hand wandered around your body, caressing your breast, your waist and your butt before his fingers made quick work of your pants’ button and zipper. He slid the trousers off and, with a little kick from you, threw the pants across the room. 

His lips then left yours for a moment, and it drew out a whine that you had never heard yourself make. It pleased him to hear your voice. You watched as a simple make out transformed the sweet and charming man into a lustful one. His once inviting smile morphed into a thirsty smirk, his lips were swollen, and his eyes burned with desire. 

He left the bed for a moment, picking up your trousers and a small vibrator from the table before returning to you. He used the trousers as a makeshift rope to tie both your wrists to the bedpost and before dropping down between your legs.

“You look so pretty from down here,” he said as he placed the small vibrator against your clothed clit. 

He moved it up and down, along your slit, taking in your moans of pleasure. He watched your every effort to push yourself closer to climax: how you’d buck your hips when the vibe hitted the right spot, how your moans got louder and less restrained and how your hands struggled against the bedpost. 

“Please, please, please,” you cried out, “please let me cum- oh my god, I’m so close.” 

Everything you did only pleased him further. 

“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you?” He slid the vibrator away from your clit, “Already cumming for a stranger you’ve barely met?” 

Your hips bucked and adjusted, hoping to feel the vibrator again, “Please, please.” 

You whined and moaned but all he did was watch. His control was immaculate, he’d place the vibrator against your clit and just as you were about to cum, he’d take it off. Then he did it again. And again. 

“Say it,” he said, “Let me hear it. What are you?” 

A blush of mortification coloured your cheeks, no one had ever called you a slut.

“I’m…” You struggled to get the words out. 

Jaehyun punished your hesitation by pushing the vibrator against your clit again. 

You whined and were reminded of the reward at the end of the sentence, “I’m a slut. I’m a slut just for you.” 

Pleased with your words and your desperation, Jaehyun finally let you cum, “That’s right, cum for me, slut. You’re such a good slut for me.”

He watched as the ecstasy ebbed through your body, your hips bucking high before crashing down against the bed, your fingers digging into your palms and your lips carelessly spewing out ‘thank you’s and ‘oh my god’s. 

“That felt good, right?” 

You nodded, albeit a little tired from that singular orgasm. It’s not an exaggeration to say that no one had made you feel the way his touch did. Forcing you to brand yourself as a slut sparked a new thrill for yourself. Everything he did only drew you into his lust-driven heaven. 

He let you rest for a brief moment, as he swapped out the small vibrator for a vibrating dildo this time. 

Watching Jaehyun put the dildo in his hands, you perked up with more energy. 

By now, your cotton panties had been drenched in your juices. So, Jaehyun slipped them off to reveal your pussy. It’s been awhile since you’ve shaved, it wasn’t like you had anyone to show them to. This was an impromptu decision you had made. You immediately shut your legs up together, hiding them in embarrassment.

Jaehyun responded by softly prying your legs open, “no need for shyness now, kitten.” 

His words were charming and comforting, which gave you just that little boost of confidence that you had needed. You opened your legs again.

This time, a newfound hunger engulfed Jaehyun at the sight of your glistening core.  

He was quick to abandon his initial plan, lowering himself between your legs before burying himself into your thighs. Like a parched lion, his tongue was quick to lap up your juices. 

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he mumbled against your core, the vibration created a new sensation and drew out a soft mewl from you.

His tongue moved skillfully, each motion methodical and purposeful. He alternated between licking up and down your wet heat and swirling his tongue around your swollen clit. Either way, your head was dizzy with arousal. Your hips grinded against his face, searching for another release. Explicit words mixed with his name and your pleas carelessly tumbled out of your lips. Try as you might, you could barely contain your voice.

You hadn’t noticed it, but in the midst of your pleasure, Jaehyun had managed to push a singular finger into your core. His initial finger worked slower than his mouth, it’s only when a second finger thrusted into you that you felt him. The new sensation added to the maddening haze.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whined, your body stiffening in anticipation. 

“Cum,” his command was firm, “cum for me, my pretty little slut.” 

The release was instantaneous, arousal flooded your system and your entire body quaked with pleasure. You almost saw white with that release. Your body heaved with a singular motion, crashing down into the bed. But Jaehyun didn’t let you rest; he was quick to replace his fingers with the vibrating dildo that he had chosen previously. A gasp escaped your lips, feeling yourself stretch around the foreign object. He turned it out and began pumping it into you. He ignored your pleas, revelling in the dishevelled sight of you. Office drone turned into a moaning mess. A twisted pleasure coursed through your body, a tinge of pain from sensitivity mixed with the dildo drilling into your g-spot. You begged him to stop, he didn’t. Your body buckled under the overstimulation; you were sure you were going to die if he didn’t stop. 

You caught a glimpse of his wicked smirk, taking pride in his work. 

Then, you fell from the cusp of your pleasure. A stream of clear liquid squirted from between your legs and onto Jaehyun’s face. Your eyes widened when you came to it, the first time that you had ever squirted. The pink flush on your cheeks reddened with more embarrassment. But before you had the time to apologise and explain that you didn’t intend on squirting all over him, he spoke first.

“Look at you, squirting all over me,” Jaehyun said, discarding the dildo, “I barely did anything, you know.” 

His velvety voice sent shivers down your spine. Your humiliation grew under the weight of his words, and the truth of the situation. He was a stranger that you’ve barely met, and here you were cumming so easily at his every touch. His eyes, filled with great desire, burned into yours, and that thrill you felt under his gaze only further cemented the truth. You were acting like a complete slut for him. 

You watched as he removed his jeans, then boxers. The sight of his member had your mouth salivating over it. You didn’t know you were such a slut. You could feel the growing heat between your legs as your mind conjured up images of his dick drilling into you. A foreign desire to just let him devour you arose. A strange impatience took over your mind whilst watching him slip on a condom. 

“Why?” he crawled back on the bed, hovering over your body, “Like what you see?” 

He didn’t wait for your reply, instead choosing to immediately thrust into you. A loud gasp escaped your throat. He felt bigger than you’d imagined. You were sure that he would split your body in half if he was any bigger and was grateful that he gave you a moment to adjust to his size. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled. He adjusted himself, with one hand holding on to the bedframe for balance, and the other rested around your neck. 

“Stop giving me such erotic looks, whore,” a twisted grin spread across his handsome face, “it only makes me want to mess you up even more.” 

His hips moved with practiced ease, each thrust deep and impactful and drew out loud gasps from you. He started rocking his hips quicker and sloppier, his hand tightening along the sides of your neck. You’ve never been choked before, but that new stimulation drove you crazy. The slight almost-drunk dizziness from the asphyxiation only intensified every one of Jaehyun’s thrust. 

“Oh?” he panted out with amusement, “You like getting choked, don’t you?”

He watched as your eyes rolled back and how your face scrunched with pleasure under his touch. The constant stream of melody that was your voice devolved from words and pleas into incoherent mewls and moans. 

“You’re squeezing me so tight. Expected nothing less from my favourite slut.”

His hips moved with increasing impatience, as the both of you chased the highs of an orgasm. His grip on your neck only tightened, drawing small crescents into your skin. He grunted and groaned with less of the control he seemed to have. 

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he said and you doubted, with what little sanity remained within you. 

Your hair was completely messed up, from your constant squirming. The baby hair along your hairline had been stuck on your face with your sweat. You’re pretty certain your make-up - just a touch of eyeliner and nude lipstick - had all been smudged by sweat and tears. If anything, you’re sure you looked like a messed-up whore. 

Still, Jaehyun leaned down and connected your lips with fervour. His warm tongue darted quickly between your lips and danced with yours, sucking and twirling your tongue. His thrusts didn’t slow down, and instead continuously rammed into your sweet little spot. 

At this moment, you were completely intoxicated by his touches. He studied you well though, knowing that you were on the edge of your orgasm. 

“Aw, are you about to cum?” he said with mocking sympathy, “You’re gonna cum on a stranger’s dick?”

You felt your ears turn red at his questions. The shame and guilt all twisting into a strange pleasure. You weren’t used to this, but you craved it more. 

“I’ll allow it,” he said, “you look so pretty cumming. Cum for me, slut.” 

There’s a disconnect between his words, a sort-of whiplash. One moment he called you pretty, another he was completely condescending. And yet, you liked it. You liked being his little slut. You liked looking pretty for him. And most of all, you liked obeying him. 

That desire to obey, however, fell short of Jaehyun’s expectations. A twisted anger filling his eyes as his hand punished your neck with an even tighter grip - you were barely gasping for air at this point. 

“I said, cum for me,” he growled before spitting in your face. 

The warm spit against your cheek swirled with the hypnotising haze of being choked and gave you the push you need to slip into a mindblowing orgasm. Your entire body spasmed in pleasure as desperate moans left your lips. Your toes curled tight, and your fingers scratched the bedpost. The orgasm lasted a solid a few seconds, but the waves of oxytocin still washed over you as you basked in the afterglow, serving as minor orgasms. 

But Jaehyun wasn’t a man of patience, especially not when you laid under him, completely writhing with pleasure with a look of complete daze. Your still-spasming core squeezed his dick tight and coupled with a few sloppy thrusts were enough to send him into an orgasm as well. 

He moaned and stiffened, his orgasm translated into deep and impactful thrusts as he rode out his orgasm. Your body was at a complete subservience to his orgasm, with Jaehyun not caring about your verbal protests from the overstimulation nor the way your hips and legs were shaking.

It took him a few moments, before he came crashing down on the bed next to you panting. The lust-driven demon seemed to disappear at an instance as a sweet smile replaced his previous smirk. 

“Satisfied?” 

You nodded shyly. He helped you out of the makeshift knot, finally freeing you. Your wrists were left with red marks, to which he apologised with a dimpled smile. 

“It’s fine,” you assured him, “I… liked it.” 

After all, your wrists would be evidence of this experience. 

Later on, he was quick to attend to your every need - bringing you water, tissues to clean up, and a fresh set of bathrobes - and insisted that you sleep in the room, at least until the sun was up, promising to not touch you unless you wanted him to. You almost let yourself be deluded into thinking that this was anything but professionalism from a staff of Hotel Paradise.

In the morning, before you left for home, Jaehyun parted with words that would haunt you for the week to come. 

“I hope to see you again. I really do.” 

[alastors-antlers]

Why Alastor is good aroace rep after all, written by an aroace

Hello all! I just want to start off this post by saying that I'm one person who definitely doesn't speak for all aroaces, but I wanted to make a post on this anyway, and maybe some folk would be interested in hearing out another perspective?

I'm not really caught up on everything that's been said over the course of HH's creation - only more recent interviews, since I'm pretty new to the fandom. Apologies if I've missed anything, but also I do not have the time to keep up with all the out-of-canon-material backstory unfortunately. I'm working with what we've got here.

So here's the thing:

Alastor is cruel, he's narcissistic, he doesn't care about anyone except himself, he's a serial killer and a monster.

(That's the argument I've heard - please tell me if that's not really what people are going for lol, in which case I've totally misunderstood?)

The issue with aroace rep when it paints asexual people with those traits is that it aims to dehumanizes them. Sex and love are essential to the human experience, right? So why wouldn't someone be interested? Because they're self-absorbed, and cold, and detached. They don't have the capacity to love others enough to feel romance.

And sure, Alastor is a killer, and a schemer, and prideful, and a monster by hell's standards. But no matter how above it all and stylish and in control and provocative he wants to be, he's a very human character, and his aroace-ness never serves to add to his alienation. You could even say that it makes him seem even more personable.

That's what I think is the key difference.

why he's human

Alastor's whole persona is about control, and he basically straight-up says this. He's controlling what his enemies know, what his public image is like. His goal is to be the Radio Demon -- overlord of Hell, charismatic, Machiavellian, and undefeatable. He's not. Despite that smile plastered over his face (a powerful tool, huh) he's so expressive for someone who's constantly pretending.

You see his exasperation with the Egg Bois and with Charlie's ranting; his nervousness in front of Zestial; his frustration with Lucifer and the petty lengths he goes to to piss off the ruler of Hell.

You see his desperation, making that deal with Charlie. He's surprised by the idea of being vulnerable in front of an enemy like Adam, and so close to danger. He drops the radio filter and the affect out of fear, and runs on broadcast TV to let out panic and anger and bitterness in his hideout, where no one else can see him.

He has a smile that tells us he's genuinely happy to see someone; it's a little wider than his default. You see it with Mimzy's greeting, you see it with Rosie. Rosie, especially, serves to make Alastor more human to the audience. More on this later, but for now, I'm just saying that you can see that he at least seems to respect her greatly. Whatever bond they have, we know that he trusts her to touch him, to share history with him, and with support that he trusts no one else for.

He pretends, but he can't pretend it all away. Loads of these emotions aren't even advantageous for him to show. It isn't necessarily how the typical asexual psychopath acts; he's not emotionless or only capable of anger or brutality.

He's so full of emotion that it leaks through, despite all that he does to avoid it. He's not inhuman and aloof, not really - he's so, so human, even when he tries not to be because he thinks that'll be what keeps him above all the rest. In control, and free from his chains.

(If anyone wants to see images about all this, I'll make a separate post - just let me know.)

(I also have another post, talking about why Alastor is at least a little attached to the hotel's residents too, shown via conversation with Niffty. In what way? different question.)

how the aroace part contributes to that

Now, to be fair, we don't hear much about his aroaceness in canon. It's just not relevant a lot of the time.

In the pilot, Angel's proposition ruffles his feathers so much that Alastor blanks for a moment. It's a joke, sure, but that ace panic face is a pretty popular Alastor moment in the fandom - Alastor, thrown off-balance by a sex joke of all things, after so many years in Hell that he should probably be used to this.

It's a moment that makes him more approachable; his aroaceness shows him unprepared for something someone else does for one of the only real moments in the whole episode.

And the other part: the ace in the hole statement.

Rosie apparently knows Alastor so well that she read that he's aroace. That tells us about their relationship; namely, that it is long-standing and genuine enough that she gleaned a piece of real information from him. It's a casual fact that she knows about him before he even figured it out himself. It lends legitimacy to their bond - this bond that shows us a more comfortable and warm side of Alastor that we don't often see.

If their relationship is purely business, isn't this something pretty frivolous and personal? It's not like he has anything to gain by telling her about his life, but she learned about it somehow. How close are they? That's where it adds a layer of complexity and personality to his character..

thoughts on representation

Overall, Alastor's an interesting character who has a level of depth and care and personality (outside of cruelty) that asexual psychopath tropes lack. Again, the moments where he's being represented as disinterested in sex or romance don't make him seem detached. Again, they don't say "look how hostile toward relationships his behaviour is - how separate he is from our humanity". That's what bad villain ace rep is. That's not what the show's doing.

Also: I'm not saying that we need to lower our standards or anything, but even if you think it's not the best rep, I feel like we should be supporting HH's efforts here. I know that on Tumblr we have a pretty queer-friendly space going, which is honestly an understatement lol but

Aces are incredibly underrepresented in fiction. There's a whole Wikipedia page about asexual characters in media, and it's short as all hell, and even if you consider what's on there you see quite a number of one-off characters who are never mentioned again.

In terms of real life business - before the DSM updated their definition of hypoactive sexual desire disorder (HSDD) in 2013, identifying as asexual wasn't even a recognized thing. If you talked to a clinician about your lack of sexual desire, you could be diagnosed with a disorder. Only in the 5th edition do we now have a little exclusion footnote about it.

The concept of asexuality hasn't been explored nearly as much as other queer identities in our scientific research. We get crumbs in terms of mainstream representation and understanding. House M.D. has an episode where House "disproves" us because he's just so smart.

Alastor isn't going to be perfect representation. There's no such thing as perfect representation, and from the moment he was conceptualized, you could see how people would take him poorly. Still, I think he's a net positive.

He isn't a side character or a token ace - he's a core part of the show, whose personality and character motivations we can reasonably presume are going to be explored much more deeply in upcoming season(s). He's loved by the fandom. Right now, given what we know, I trust Vivziepop to write the aroace representation he deserves, because with the way I've heard the cast/directing/etc. talk about him, they're trying to do the aroace community justice, so I wish people would let up just a little on the whole "Alastor is bad rep".

Let's give him a chance, all right?

[katelynnwrites]

I'm Losing It (All I Get's Jealousy) | Laura Freigang

warnings: ~

word count: 1377

summary: your girlfriend, laura gets jealous at national camp

a/n: jealousy is not something i've written before because jealousy isn't an emotion i have much experience with but i got two requests (one, two) so this is my attempt to do so

‘Hey.’ You laugh as a certain blonde pulls you into her lap, when you walk past her in the locker room.

‘I missed you.’ She complains, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck and tightening her arms around you.

‘I’m right here schatz.’ You murmur, leaning back into her.

Laura presses a kiss onto your forehead, content for you to stay where you are.

Even when more of your teammates trail into the locker room.

‘You’re a cosy pair.’ Sara immediately teases.

‘Also I hate to interrupt but it’s our turn for media.’ Jule adds, with a mischievous grin.

You giggle and turn around to kiss your girlfriend on her cheek, ‘See you in a bit.’

Laura pouts, ‘Do you really have to go?’

‘Yes.’ You hum and kiss her again to appease her.

The blonde accepts it and relents, letting you follow Jule out of the room.

The younger player pokes fun at you as soon as the two of you are out of the striker’s earshot.

‘You’re so in love with her. Like you should have seen your heart eyes.’

You blush and shrug, knowing better than to try and counter any sort of comment about the depth of your feelings for your girlfriend.

‘Really! When's the wedding?’

Her words get a laugh out of you, ‘I don’t know Jule but I will be sure to invite you when I do know.’

That's how it is with the Wolfsburg player. She is easy to get along with and makes you smile a lot.

With the media team facilitating, the activity goes by quickly and with Jule participating along with you, is a great deal of fun.

In fact, you laugh so much that you’re still smiling when you get back to the locker room.

Lea is there, having finished her own media day activity.

Your Bayern teammate sidetracks you as you try to make your way to Laura, with a simple request of helping her touch up her make up for photos in the new home kit.

You’re happy to oblige, biting your lip in concentration as you apply a fresh coat of mascara to her eyelashes.

When you are finished and turn back to where Laura was sitting, she’s gone.

Sydney tells you that she’d left for her own media day activity when you ask.

With a sigh, you go and look for a snack to tide you over till your girlfriend is free.

It seems like Obi has the same idea because you find her already digging into a bag of corn chips.

She offers to share it with you but only if you listen to the list of pick up lines she’s been working on, with every intention of annoying her own girlfriend with them once she’s back home.

Sitting beside her, you dip your hand into the bag as you listen.

‘Are you lightning? Cause you’re McQueen.’

You snort, ‘Awful.’

Lena chuckles before reading out another, ‘Are you a charger? Because I'm dying without you.’

This one doesn’t even merit any response other than you rolling your eyes.

‘What’s it like to be the most gorgeous person in the room?’

You giggle, ‘I don't know. I'd have to ask Laura.’

The midfielder groans, ‘Stop it. You have it much too bad for her.’

Eating another corn chip, you nod acceptingly and Obi shakes her head in disbelief.

‘They say nothing lasts forever. Want to be my nothing?’

‘Eh. It’s not completely dreadful.’ You feedback.

‘Are your shoelaces tied? Because I don’t want you falling for anyone else.’

‘Cheesy but better.’

Lena grins and encouraged by your words, tells you another, ‘Let’s play a game…not hide and seek though, people like you are hard to find.’

‘No. No. No. Obi, that is terrible.’

‘Well the whole point is to annoy my girlfriend, not sweep her off her feet. I've already done that.’ She points out proudly.

You grimace and the brunette offers you more corn chips.

‘Last one okay? I swear.’

Her excitement should have clued you in to how cringey the next one would be but you don’t realise it till after she deadpans, ‘I had a good pickup line ready to go, but you're so good looking I'm literally speechless.’

You burst out laughing and Lena does too. Actual tears are gathering in the corner of your eyes from how hard you are losing it.

It is at that moment that Laura appears beside you, irritation clearly written across her face.

‘Lau.’ You greet and are taken by surprise when she leans in.

Faster than you can react, she pulls you into a heated kiss. One that she dominates, leaving you entirely breathless when she draws back.

The blonde ignores the wide eyed look on the Wolfsburg player’s face, shortly stating, ‘Oberdorf, the only person allowed to use pick up lines on my girlfriend is me.’

Then she pulls you away from Obi, not loosening the grip she has on your hand until you are in the hotel room you both are sharing.

She stares at you then, with an expression you’ve never seen on her face before. It unnerves you if you are completely honest because she has never been unreadable to you. Not like she is now.

‘What's wrong schatz?’ You softly ask.

‘I don't like Lena trying her pick up lines on you.’

‘She didn’t mean anything by them, you know that she has a girlfriend. I agreed to listen to them in exchange for her sharing her snack with me.’ You explain.

Laura huffs, ‘I still don’t like it.’

‘Lau? Everyone here knows that I'm yours. That you are the one I am in love with.’

Your girlfriend mellows a little at your words.

Ever so gently, you tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and whisper, ‘I love you Laura. You know that.’

She sighs, shoulders slumping down, ‘I know you do. I love you too, which is why this is so hard.’

You frown in confusion and the Eintracht Frankfurt player fidgets with the rings on her fingers, almost as if she is embarrassed as she admits, ‘I just miss you so incredibly much. The past month has been more difficult than usual because the last time I was able to physically see you was at our last camp and that was cut short because I got injured. Now at this camp, I have barely been able to spend time with you.’

‘Oh.’ You breathe as you realise that there is a reason behind your favourite blonde’s sudden clinginess.

She hadn’t been exaggerating when she mentioned how much she missed you, earlier in the day and you mentally kick yourself for not seeing it sooner.

‘You've spent more time with Jule and Obi than me and that’s alright because I know you don’t see them all that often but I miss you. I really really miss you.’

Laura is on the verge of crying now, her bottom lip wobbling as she stands in front of you.

‘I'm sorry. I know the distance is hard but I'm here now okay?’

Slipping your arms around her waist, you draw your girlfriend close to you. The forward melts into your embrace immediately, her chin resting on your shoulder.

‘I shouldn't have gotten jealous. I'm sorry.’ She mumbles.

You hug her tighter.

‘Don’t apologise schatz.’

From the moment you and the blonde had started dating, the two of you have been aware of the challenges a long distance relationship would bring. What you hadn’t been aware of, prior to your conversation, was how much your girlfriend has been struggling with them.

After turning your head so that you can press an affectionate kiss against her neck, you say, ‘Summer break is coming soon and then it’ll be just you and me okay? We’ve got that trip to Mallorca planned and I am looking forward to spending every minute of it with you.’

‘That sounds like heaven.’ Laura whispers.

You hum in agreement and check your watch before adding, ‘Till then we have enough time to take a nap before our tactics meeting? I don’t know about you but all the media stuff has tired me out…’

Your girlfriend doesn’t need to be asked twice.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart

[cilil]

Hi, do you have any advices for budding writers on AO3 or here?

Hey! :)

I've given this some thought and compiled what I hope might be some helpful pointers, but if there's anything else or anything specific you want to hear more about, feel free to ask again. Also I'm assuming this is about the amazing craft of fanfic and not, uh, building a platform or whatever (I wouldn't be very helpful with that, I'm a nobody x)).

Share what you feel comfortable sharing.

So since you're asking about budding writers on AO3 and Tumblr, I take it you're at a point where you feel comfortable sharing your writing online, which is amazing. Nevertheless, I feel the need to once again mention (just for anyone who may be in the same or a similar situation) that it's completely alright not to be comfortable with it (yet) or not to share everything you write. I share almost everything simply because I'm annoying and it makes me feel accomplished and since I've grown pretty comfortable with it, I might as well; but not everyone feels that way and feelings also change. It's completely alright to write just for yourself or a small circle of friends.

Don't worry too much about "being good".

I will be the first to admit that I deeply relate to struggling with perfectionism when it comes to writing (and other creative pursuits). However, as someone who's been reading fic for many years, tends to be into quite niche and obscure things sometimes and is rarely spoiled by big fandoms' abundance of food, I want all writers, especially new ones, to know that you don't have to write the most amazing, perfect, publishing-ready pieces. What matters is your passion and creativity, which will show in your writing regardless of skill level. Not to mention that fic is free and in fact a tool for many to experiment.

That's not to say you can't strive to improve or be good - by all means, I find it admirable if you want to hone your craft and make progress as you continue to write. Just don't let perfectionism ruin your fun and stifle your creativity.

How to get better without trying overly hard.

Aside from just writing, writing and writing (that is the most important part though), how do you improve without making it a point to do so? Well, if it works for you to read/watch guides or you enjoy specific writing exercises, that's great, but one thing that I find gets overlooked a lot in writing spaces is simply: Reading. Just reading for fun.

I find that I often discover little things in other people's writing that I really like and then I think to myself "wow, that's really neat how they did that, maybe I could take a page out of their book" (pun intended) and make it a point to pay attention to these things when I write. Essentially, it's like creating a nice patchwork blanket which is your style, made up of your own voice and preferences as a writer and cool stuff you picked up on the road.

Let me just name some examples, which, yes, are also an excuse to shamelessly blow some writer friends of mine a well-deserved kiss of appreciation. @sauron-kraut writes incredibly polished short stories with beautiful wording and atmosphere that have a lot of little hidden things to discover and dissect, and I want to steal her ability to set the stage and hide those easter eggs. @a-world-of-whimsy-5 is an absolute legend when it comes to writing medieval and medieval-adjacent stuff, and I learned so much from her fics. @i-did-not-mean-to has a way of writing with such esprit and wit that I always end up in a good mood after, a style of narrative voice I've adored for over a decade, and I've greatly improved my humorous writing in particular thanks to her. @crackinthecup has the marvelous ability to craft extremely emotionally evocative scenes, which have encouraged me to be more courageous and experimental in my sentence melody and structure. @tragedybunny has a way of writing that reminds me of coming home to a warm and comfy place, and I will find out how she did it and how I can do it as well.

So as you can see, it can be super helpful to compare notes with your fellow writers. Never be discouraged by someone else's ability; instead learn and expand your own.

Feedback, criticism and community.

Let me just get one thing out of the way: You don't have to take criticism from everyone. Or at all. As far as I understand, the fanfic community has come to to agree that we're doing this for fun and don't give criticism unprompted/when we aren't sure it's wanted or welcome. As a general rule: Take criticism from those you would also seek advice from. Ask for feedback if you feel comfortable, and if not, that's a valid boundary to have and I will gently smack anyone who presumes to pick apart writing that was made for fun and generously shared with the community for free.

The community aspect, however, should be taken into account on other fronts. While I won't tell anyone they have to interact and believe that, in an ideal world, everyone's writing would just speak for itself, it is helpful to engage with the community. Things you can do (both on Tumblr and AO3 if also applicable/possible) include: Respond to people interacting with your works, interacting with other people's works (for example while you're doing your reading sessions and looking at other writers' styles) and just overall being present, being talkative, going with the flow.

Again, this is not a must. But I will say that pretty much all of us want positive responses and interactions on their work and that just won't work if you expect everyone to show up for you all the time and never show up for anyone else. Engagement, passion and community are our "currency" in the absence of money and reciprocity is an important element of that. A lot of friction and complaints in the fanfic community regarding lack of interaction or entitlement are rooted in misunderstandings of this fundamental principle.

But don't take this in a cynical manner. Seek out what you enjoy, share the joy and passion and you'll make friends just accidentally - which is the part that I find makes fandom on AO3 and Tumblr so much fun! (I don't even want to be a "traditional" author anymore, I want this instead😁)

Find your groove and groove along.

Lastly, make sure your writing is fun for you or else it'll become a chore and eventually get ruined for you as a hobby. This is unfortunately a continuous task as your needs and interests shift - for example you might be in the mood to do an entire drabble challenge one month and during another month you feel so drained that you couldn't do another one. Or you might want to write something different for a change. Or whatever it may be.

Either way, one recent lesson I've learned is that I got too tied up in obligations and it left no space for spontaneous inspiration, so I never got to write what I wanted to write in the moment and it pushed me quite close to burnout. Do yourself a favor and always hold that space for yourself. In practice, this could for example mean that you do one event and on the side write this cool new idea you had, instead of doing three events - which is fun and games until it starts getting too much and you don't have time for your passion projects.

Finding your groove also includes the whole technical aspect, such as which writing programs you use, which device (or none at all), where you write, how to make yourself comfortable, how to get in the right headspace for things. I would also like to encourage all of you to be a bit crazy and whimsical about this: For example I've gone to the perfume store, picked out a scent for a specific character in a specific scene and sniffed it while writing the description several times now. Do what it takes. And say goodbye to your squeaky clean search history - you will research some weird stuff just to get that one line right.

So yeah, these are just my random thoughts on fic writing and what has been helpful in order for me to have lots of fun with this hobby. Happy writing!

[phoenixashvibes]

What Love Has in Store For You in 2024

Your 2024 Love Life Reading is Here :)

Sooo, take what resonates, leave what does not fit; while keeping in mind we all have free will. This is also my first ever PAC blog post :) Please leave feedback I will be sure to respond back ❤️

Pile One: The 7 of Swords, THE DEVIL, The Page of Swords, DEATH, 8 of Cups Bottom Card : THE MOON

(Capricorn, Scorpio,Aquarius, Gemini, Pisces, Libra signs could be relevant seasons or people)

So pile one I do not know if you are single right now are within a connection that you may consider leaving but there seems to be someone here that experiences a breakup. There seems to be someone manipulative involved and they sneak around and get caught up. If you know you are single the people that may approach you this year are people who may lie and present challenges within a relationship. It would be a karmic connection, that would cause you to need deep healing. From There will prepare an exit strategy to leave behind toxic partners that have obsessive, codependent toxic natures. The ones with bad habits and bind you with pain. You will tell someone to kiss your as$. The deception will be too much. They could have been sneaking around or you will just simply pain on how to detach yourself from any type of people that keep you from being able to evolve and enjoy the refreshing emotional connections that serve your higher good. You will gain clarity on how to move forward in love. You will no longer continue to entangle yourself with people that bring you down and make you face your inner demons in hurtful ways. Someone else will also try to approach you from your past there will be two people that are no good for you and shady that will not be able to bring anything healthy to your love life. You will face your fears around love choosing to purify yourself of emotions that do not help you experience the love you know you deserve. I see you taking a logical approach within your love life and holding more your value and self worth in high regards this year. You will learn to use your wisdom to heal and cut off anyone that is not able to communicate and show you what is worthy of your time and attention. You will vet people and do your homework before you let anyone waste any of your time, you may also block some people and choose to be emotionally unavailable for them any longer. You will also refuse to be a one night stand. When you do decide to date it will be because it is an equally compatible relationship where both parties are on the same page, within the same book. You will learn forgiveness, compassion and how to be strong again. This will give you the courage to be able to allow yourself to love again and help start a new, healthy love life in which you are able to get everything that didn’t work out in your past :) this could be in 2025 or by the end of the year

Pile TWO: Princess of Swords, Ace ofSwords, Princess of Wands, & 10 of Disks

Aries, Sagittarius, Leo, Aquarius, Libra, Gemini, Taurus, Scorpio, Capricorn, Virgo

There is someone that Is going to have their eyes on you. They may be someone you know from before 2024 or someone who will come to start conversing with you soon. This will lead to them wanting to start talking about establishing something more stable that could leaf to longevity for the long run. They will want to be patient with you and feel you are fated to be in their life. They could be an Aries or you meet them in that season; but they will want to have something stable with you. They are someone that will want to provide for you and make your life comfortable. Initially, this person may give off “player energy” but eventually they will take off the mask and show you who they sincerely are. They have an athletic build or work out. Sometimes their ego gets the best of them. This connection will be undeniable and mutually shared. At some point it may get too intense and someone may want to take a break and heal. Any separation will make you both realize how much you truly matter to one another. They offer security and tell you how they can make more money and  include you with wealth management choices/opinion. They balance you out and make you feel seen and included. This person can really dress and they seem to know how to charm you real good! They have everything you really could want to have in someone you commit to, especially legally. This person wants to make you feel protected and able to have a family legacy with them. They want to have you be a part of the plans and help them manage what it is y’all create together. They are a true born leader who is a ride or die companion. They would go to war over you. The connection they feel for you right off deepens because the conversations you have when you meet will flow very easily. It’s like you two never run out of things to talk about. They feel you both deserve and will be able to live a life of travel and luxury. They want to be able to surprise you with nice things just because. This person may have some debt they need to resolve but they want to marry you so they will get this in order because they feel you’re Wirth the effort. They also want to get all their shit together in general. There is healing that is needed to be done in order for this marriage to last. This person will need to know how to gain and maintain financial responsibility so that the aspirations they set can flourish but also be managed effectively. They will want to lavishly spend on you but you both will need to cut off all other attachments from the past completely that leech. I’m hearing family and old flames wanting hand out! Them especially. I feel you may meet them when they are coming out of a bad situation. This person could have had a bad separation and not offer much at first meeting but will continue getting to knowing you and realize you are everything they thought they could never find. 

PILE THREE: Queen of Wands, The 5 of Pentacles, The TOWER, & the 2 of Pentacles 

Aries, Leo, Sagittarius, Scorpio, Aquarius, Libra, Gemini, Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn

I feel like you are someone that is very attractive. This year it will draw plenty of attention your way. If you are in a relationship; I hope your lover is secure/strong. However, You appear to be single and there are people who will be approaching you this year. These people are not going to be anyone that you will want to settle for. You will notice red flags and they only serve as a confidence booster from the Most High that you are desirable. Some of these options will want to settle down with you there just won’t be the compatibility that you seek between you and them. You will feel like a few are disasters waiting to happen. Others you may feel you would have to watch and can not fully trust. There will be at least two main players who will make major efforts to gain your time and attention but you will feel like they lack something that you desire in a partner and I do not see you wanting to commit to anyone because what they offer does not appear to be up to your standards. You will have plenty of options if you want to date or starts something slow that maybe leads something more exclusive. I feel you will have to make your mind up about at least two people and there maybe an argument if anyone finds about about the others lol.. You will not have a bad year in love it just does not seem like the options that present themselves lead to your END GAME but they will be entertainment for sure. Some of these people will be delusional and not everything that they try to present themselves as especially financially. IF you are in a relationship I feel like there is family drama or something changes drastically in the dynamic of things. There is not any balance within the connection. Someone may want to unexpectedly end things and get angry because they feel like the other does not have enough time, money or attention for them. There may even be bad communication that is a factor as well. Social media problems. Drama regarding children. Bad spending habits. Someone expects others to over sacrifice for them and Its just not happening. They are not even able to reciprocate that. Someone from your past is getting blocked because they are bad news. You will be in love with your finances, looks, magnetic charm, radiant smile, amazing hair styles, fashionable outfits and effortless attention that you receive. Everybody that will try to play you this year will play themselves and lose horribly. You are clearly the prize and you finally step in to having the confidence regularly to recognize that. 

[papaya-queen]

Soo I was looking at the future line up possibility for Prema… I thought I could share my thoughts.

Ollie Bearman – Announced to drive for Haas F1. Pretty predictable after his performance in Jeddah. Baky confirmed that he is ready for F1 and for the car he’s gonna get.

Kimi Antonelli – Announced to drive for Mercedes F1. It was almost certain with Toto pushing him. I’m kinda worried we’ll end up with a Logan type of situation but I’m still confident in his skills.

Arvid Lindblad – Announced to drive for Campos F2. It appears that Redbull Junior team and Campos have some sorts of arrangements so it’s a logical thing.

PREMA 2025 LINE-UP

F2

Gabriele Mini – Remarkable drive this season, I’m still gutted about the championship. Prema will likely keep him.

Dino Beganovic – I know it’s unlikely, the streets are saying that he’s going to less expensive team because of a lack of fund. But Prema might still try to keep him since they don’t have anyone else to sign in F2. (I’m trying to manifest it)

F3

Rafael Camara – He is absolutely crashing the FRECA championship so it’s just a logical step up for him. Plus, the Ferrati Driver Academy seems to be close with Prema.

James Wharton – He is in a really good position in the FRECA championship and has already made his F3 debut.

Alex Powell/Freddie Slater – Okay so this the complicated part. Freddie is MaxVerstappen2023-ing the Italian F4 championship and should go directly to F3. But he doesn’t have an academy backing… I think it’s by choice and good for him but without an academy backing him, trying to skip a level might be hard. So, my second guess is Alex Powell. Mercedes junior since a long time, he made his debut in single seater this year in Italian f4 and has shown really good results. He has multiple podiums in overall championship, several rookie wins, he is now leader of the rookie championship and 5th in overall. For comparison, Arvid Lindblad had 8 rookie wins, 4 pole positions and 6 wins in the whole season. Right now, with still two rounds left, Alex has 8 rookie wins, 5 podiums and 1 pole position. My other argument is that Mercedes might not want two drivers in the same championship which leads me to the next point.

FRECA

Rashid Al Dhaheri/Kean Nakamura Berta – Rashid had a good performance from him in F4. Good contender for a freca seat. Kean also had a really good performance especially for a rookie and with the help of Alpine he might go up.

This is where it gets complicated again.

Doriane Pin and Maya Weug could continue F1A since they are only in their first season. But they both had FRECA experience (Doriane currently, Maya in 2023 plus a round this year), and looking at their results in F1A this year, they could manage a transition towards FRECA. Doriane is likely to do so, continuing with Iron Dames or maybe switching to Prema. Maya could maybe transition with PREMA also.

And this where my point from earlier could take place. If Doriane continues in FRECA, Alex might not be on the FRECA line up especially if she continues with PREMA. Mercedes might not want two drivers in the same championship.

So third seat, either Alex Powell/Freddie Slater– So for the first two it’s the same argument as before. Freddie might not be able to jump directly to F3 and Alex might go here if Freddie get the seat.

F4

Honestly here guys, I have no idea. Tomass is likely to stay maybe with Kean and Dion. Prema might do the same as they did recently with Oleksandr Bondarev and bring Luna Fluxa in after she turn 15.

F1 Academy

Tina Haussman – Likely to stay for a second season. She hasn’t had the best luck in this season so she couldn’t prove her talent.

Nina Gademan – she’s likely to take a seat in F1A after her impressive debut.

??

So yeah, that was my little rant about Prema. Feel free to reblog or comment to add your opinion.

[simplyhughes]

Hi Ellie, so nice to meet you! Loved your first piece ("my girl" as a pet name makes me fold like a lawn chair)! May I please request something with Jack? The specifics are up to you, but may it please be someone who is plain and very quiet in public. I feel like that would raise some eyebrows with Jack being so outgoing and sought after. Please and thank you. P.s. I listened to "Waste" by Foster the People while daydreaming about this if you want a song rec. Sorry!

Apart of the Group

First of all, thank you so much for being my first request I was soooo excited! I got a little carried away with this idea, and I may have strayed a little from your original request so apologies there. But I think this turned out pretty cute! Also, I ended up listening to the song while writing this… 10/10 great music taste 😋

Posting on here still makes me kind of nervous, but I do want to say thank you to everyone who enjoyed my last fic!!!! I am taking request and I’m so excited to fulfill some more :P I hope this fic is good!!! 

WC: 961 😧😧

Tw: social anxiety (?)

Throughout your life, you were known for your quiet demeanor, often keeping to yourself to avoid unnecessary conflict or attention. This didn't mean you were a loner; it just meant it was harder to break your shell. To anyone else, you may come off as withdrawn or timid, and honestly, that's true. But it's just a persona for those you aren't close to.

Growing up as family friends with three charismatic and unusually talented brothers was refreshing. You got to experience what life would be like if you had possessed those traits, not watching in envy but adoration. That adoration focused itself on the middle brother, Jack.

Jack didn't even have to try to get you to let your guard down; it just happened. He radiated a feeling of comfort that made him so easy to be around. After years of chasing each other, right as Jack was entering his first year in the NHL, you guys finally got together. You complimented each other in ways that were both unexpected and perfect, filling in the gaps the other lacked.

Life had picked up pace, and both of you succumbed to work. With Jack in Jersey and you back home in Michigan, you didn't get to see each other often. Being enrolled in university didn't allow for free time; you were either busing tables or hitting the books. Even though you and Jack shared troubling schedules, you two always found time to chat, even if it was late at night. Eventually, your schedules aligned. You finally were able to catch a flight to Jersey to see your boyfriend in action. On top of that, the New Jersey Devils were having a get-together for all of their wives and girlfriends. That made Jack ecstatic. He was so thrilled to be able to show off his girl, he was practically bouncing off the walls. You, on the other hand, felt queasy at the thought.

Jack had picked you up from the airport and took you back to his apartment. After basking in each other's company for the rest of the day and making up for lost time, you two settled in bed. As soon as the covers were pulled over, Jack was out. Your touch was something he craved for so long, and to finally have it alleviated all his stress, acting like melatonin.

Unfortunately, sleep didn't come as easy for you. Your mind was racing, thinking about every outcome tomorrow would bring. Will his teammates like you? Will their girlfriends like you? Eventually, you tired yourself out, and your eyelids fluttered shut with your fingers tangled in your boyfriend's hair.

The morning was spent over a cup of coffee and breakfast Jack surprisingly hadn't burned, sharing kisses and embraces in between. Both of you got ready in unison, helping Jack with his outfit and him attempting to help you with your hair. The ride to his teammate's house, who you knew as Bass, was quiet. Jack could tell you were nervous and had rested his palm against your thigh, rubbing small comforting circles. He parked along the street and opened the passenger door for you to exit. With your hands clasped, you both walked towards the front door.

Immediately, the door swung open, revealing a tall guy with a toothy grin who greeted you.He pulled Jack into one of those guy hugs and ushered you two in the door. The room was loud which made you instinctively lach to Jack's arm. Settling on the couch, surrounded by other players and their partners, Jack got to socializing. You felt eyes on you. The words you spoke were minimal and ended with you introducing yourself, with the help of your boyfriend. Your head rested against Jack's shoulder with his arm snaking around yours leaving his hand resting on your leg.

Soon enough his conversation fizzles out and he looks down at you with a soft gaze. He leans down to reach your ear, “You okay, baby?”. You let out a hum. At this point, your nerves were gone, but this still wasn't your crowd. “I'm good, just taking everything in…” you reply finally using your words. His lips meet your forehead while his hand caresses your cheek.

You two were so lost in your bubble to hear the conversation of a few of the girlfriends on the other sofa. “They are so different” one of them giggles. “I know…but it's too cute.” another responds. Jack smiles at you and turns back to talking now occasionally giving you the chance to nudge in.

As the night came to a close, you found yourself feeling a sense of belonging you hadn't anticipated. Surrounded by Jack's teammates and their partners, you realized that acceptance wasn't as elusive as you once thought. Back at Jack's apartment, you two snuggled up on the couch. His phone pinged with a text from one of the guys. “Hey take a look at this y/n…” Jack said as he shifted his phone to be your view. “Bratters girl, Nicole, wants to see if you wanna go to the WAGs luncheon thing before the game tomorrow. Look at my girl making friends and shit!” He exclaimed while pinching your cheeks. You pushed your head into his chest to hide your smile.

Today, you hurdled more than you could have if you were to do it alone. Jack brings out the best in you, pushing you when you need it. With Jack by your side, facing any uncertainty seemed less daunting. As you settled into bed, wrapped in each other's embrace, you felt a profound sense of contentment wash over you. Tomorrow might bring new challenges, but you knew that as long as you had Jack, you could face them head-on, together.

[broomsick]

any tips for starting out when working with deities?

Hi, friend! Thank you for the ask, and sorry for the late reply. I've posted tips for beginners many times in the past, most of which you can find via links in this post. But now, since we're talking about working with deities more specifically, I'll list a few quick tips in a point form!

The golden rule to deity work, in my opinion, is respect. Everyone interacts with their deities with varying amounts of familiarity, but one quality always remains no matter the worshipper, and that is respect. But that goes without saying, right? 'Treat others how you want to be treated' makes no exceptions, even with non-human entities.

To me, the first step to respecting a deity is acknowledging their depth and multi-faceted nature. Mythological sources may describe this or that deity as the 'God of this or that', but in the context of religion, they are much more. The believer views the God as more than a mythological figure, but as a complex existing being.

For this reason, another tip I'll give is to get to know them. Learn as much as you can about them, and never stop learning. Not only about the deity/deities themselves, but also (and I think it's crucial not to neglect this!) about the cultural context in which they were first worshipped. I can't stress enough how big of a difference this makes when it comes to understanding a God. If you're interested, I've linked here a few of my favorite sources pertaining to nordic cultures, religions and history!

To me, offerings are not transactional. That is just my own belief, of course, but I don't adhere to the idea that 'one must give to the Gods in order to earn blessings and vice versa'. Paganism is not a trade market, but rather a way to experience spirituality. I believe in making offerings when you can, if you can, as a gesture of gratitude and not as a way to somehow 'earn blessings'. As a pagan, you do not "owe" anything to the Gods they do not "owe" you anything either.

Do not be afraid to simply spend time with them. While we may not always feel their presence, you can have faith in the fact that they watch over you. And for this reason, it's perfectly okay for you to sit down at your altar, or in the outdoors, to simply talk to them, symbolically sharing a drink/meal, telling them of your troubles or of how they inspire you. Developing this habit can help make you feel connected to a deity, even on a tight schedule, or during times when you feel disconnected from your spirituality.

In the same vein, it can be fulfilling and fun for you to dedicate certain activities to a deity of your choice! For example, practicing your instrument in honor of Bragi, or hiking in honor of Jörð, etc... What's more, whenever you dedicate an activity to a deity, you can invite them to partake in it, as I've described in this previous post!

Start to notice what things in your life reminds you of them. Maybe a certain smell? Or a song? What animals, meals, stories of else bring this deity to mind? Either because of the similar feeling they instill in you, or because you think this or that deity might enjoy them.

As a beginner, you needn't feel bad about how many deities you work with, or which deities you reach out to (so long as they are not part of a closed practice). I've always thought it weird how in some books centered around witchcraft, they'll rank deities in order of 'how experienced you need to be to reach out to them'. If you want my own honest opinion, anyone is free to reach out to any deity. No God is more difficult to work with than others. It all comes down to the individual, their values and the way they choose to work with the deity in question. I'm also not a big fan of such sources encouraging calling out to a deity during a ritual/spell like they're a tool for a magical working, if the practionner doesn't plan to really get to know them. But that's a topic for another day.

It can be greatly fulfilling as well to simply ponder a deity from time to time. What do they teach you? What can you learn from their example? What do they represent in your life? I listed in this post a few ideas of questions to ask yourself in order to better understand a deity and their presence in your life.

Take it step by step, day by day, and don't feel bad if you think you've made a mistake. We are all constantly learning. The Gods know we are human, and they reflect us in that way: they themselves have their strengths and weaknesses.

I hope this helps, but please do keep in mind that these are all my personal views on paganism, and that not every practionner will resonate with them. In any case, don't hesitate to ask if you have any other question(s) regarding practice or belief in the nordic path. Have a good day, my friend.

[arcane-vagabond]

Hey there...

You got a second? Come chat with me.

After talking with a couple of other creators on here and seeing the reaction to a couple of my other posts, I thought it might be a good idea to chat about engagement and what that means, specifically here on Tumblr.

Engagement is the life blood of fandom. It is what keeps people enthusiastic, happy, and, well....engaged! I think there have been some misconceptions about what exactly it is content creators (fanfic writers, moodboard makers, gif makers, fan art makers, etc.) mean when they say they want meaningful engagement.

Meaningful is the operative word here. Yes, likes and reblogs do count as engagement with your favorite creators, but do they count as meaningful?

Imagine with me for a second that you are competing in a sporting event....lets say track and field. You've been preparing for this event for a while now, putting your all into it so that you can do your best. The time comes and your event goes really well!! Afterwards, you go to mingle with the crowds, your friends, your families, except...no one says a word to you. Sure, they give you thumbs up and applause, but nothing else.

You're starting to feel a little self conscious now. You thought you did really well, but no one is saying anything? So you ask them how they thought you did. Several of them just smile at you and nod their heads, giving you another thumbs up, and one of your friends even says "you did good!"

"Well, what did you all think about...?" You ask. Again, no one says anything. You look over and several other teammates are having the same thing happen to them. One or two have people gushing about their performance, and it's well deserved! They worked really hard, and they did amazing in their event! But you did too...right? You're not so sure now, and now you're starting to second guess yourself. Should you even be doing this at all? People gave you thumbs up and applause, but....

A few weeks later, you're not as engaged with track and field anymore. In fact, you've all but quit at this point, running in your free time, but you're not doing it competitively for others to see. You still enjoy the act, but you don't want to subject others to seeing you do it if they don't want to. One day, a friend comes up to you and says "You were so good at track and field! Why did you stop??"

"I didn't think anyone liked seeing me do it, so I stopped," you explain. Your friend looks at you confused.

"We all did?" They say. "We gave you thumbs up and applause. Why would you think we didn't like your events?"

"Because you never said you did. You never put forth the effort to tell me, so how was I supposed to know?" You reply.

Now, given reactions to other posts like this, I'm sure some of you are going to call me condescending or patronizing. I'm not trying to be. I'm trying to show you all why meaningful engagement is so vital to fandom experiences. Your favorite creators WILL stop creating if you don't talk to them about their work. They'll keep doing what they love, but eventually they will stop sharing it with you. You'll never know how your favorite fic ends. You'll never see your favorite characters in that style exactly again. You'll get fewer and fewer gifs.

Likes are okay, and reblogs are important for getting more eyes on your favorite things, but talking to your writers and engaging with them in the different events, their content, or fun things they try to do for you all is so important.

I joked, but the whole "ten likes and five comments for the next update" used to be a very real thing in fandom spaces. Your favorite content creators do not want to be on here constantly begging you all to talk to them. We are human beings who want to speak with other human beings, we don't want to be treated like mindless content machines for you all. Days of work go in to what we create, and a single sentence of "I really liked when X character said this! I can't wait to see what they'll do when Y happens!" on a fic takes you ten seconds. And I guarantee that the author will absolutely bombard you with their excitement to talk about their story. You're never bothering someone when you talk about their work. They share it because they WANT to talk to you about it.

Don't want to show your face? That's totally fine! That's what the anonymous feature is ACTUALLY for. Show love through anonymous messages if you don't want people to know it's you!

Show your favorite creators some more love. It's so easy.

[roguishcat]

Astarion x Tav Prompt! (for the 200 follower celebration)

Astarion tailoring Tavs clothes before they reach the big city.

Some sensory ideas: rough linen, crackling warm campfire, fingers caressing skin, crisp autumn air, sounds of skin against fabric, soft sighs or humming

Thank you so much for the ask! I love reading tailor Astarion stories, so this is my humble attempt at writing one. Hope you like it! 💕

This is set in Act II, soon after the tiefling party.

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Word count: 2.4k

Part of his plan

To Astarion their relationship was a transaction. A little tit for tat. Because this was what 200 years of servitude taught him. Nothing was ever given for free. Nothing came without a price. And usually it was not worth the pain or the effort anyway.

But when it came to Tav, Astarion found himself trying to make more of an effort to stay in her good graces. Not because he cared about her as such. But he didn’t find the thought of spending time with her, travelling alongside her, even sharing her bedroll as distasteful as with anyone else. Perhaps because she foolishly put others before herself. Perhaps it was her treating him with respect and kindness. But her being nice made him want… to be nice back. Just to make sure that their leader was well and truly smitten, of course.

That evening as Tav changed out of her armour to offer her neck to him, Astarion’s eyes fell to the rather obvious tear in her shirt. She noticed him look and flushed.

“I was going to take care of that yesterday but felt so tired that I just kind of decided to leave it,” she mumbled, pulling at the fabric awkwardly.

She scurried out of his tent and into her own before he could reply. Astarion felt his lips quirk into a smile. Now this was just the opportunity to make himself useful in their leader’s eyes that he was looking for!

He had already bedded Tav and although the experience was hardly unpleasant, he didn’t look forward to using his body over and over just to secure his place by her side. Therefore, making himself so much a part of her life that she felt that he was indispensable to her was crucial in keeping her interested.

Thus assured that he was once again right and everything was going according to his plan, Astarion grabbed his sewing kit and walked confidently in the direction of Tav’s tent.

“Darling, how about I-”

Tav looked up and Astarion was rendered speechless when he looked at her handywork. Only gods knew how she managed to create the monstrosity in her hands in such a short time. And where on earth did she even get thread of such toxic, garish colour?

Tav blushed a rather fetching shade of red and lowered her eyes.

“I suppose I made it worse, haven’t I?” she whispered, clearly embarrassed at being so terrible at something as basic as fixing a simple tear.

“Well… This isn’t the best needlework that I’ve seen, admittedly. But I am certain that it isn’t the worst either.”

The large, uneven stitches were quite remarkable, in their own way.

“How about I take over from here. I’m sure that we can salvage this,” he gently pried the shirt out of her hands and clicked his tongue as he lifted it closer to his eyes.

“I suppose this will take me a little longer than initially anticipated, seeing as I have to undo your fine effort first, but I will certainly finish it come morning.”

Astarion made a move to rise but felt a hand grasp his sleeve.

“You could stay here, if you wanted,” she suggested, making him freeze.

Truth be told, staying here was the last thing that he wanted to do. It was too intimate. Him staying could be misinterpreted as him wanting to engage in certain activities. And sex was the last thing currently on his mind.

“And have you miss out on the chance to catch up on some beauty sleep? How villainous would that be!” he joked, trying to extricate himself without making it too obvious that he wanted to leave.

“Then I could sit out by the campfire with you. I mean, if you want…” she trailed off, suddenly feeling silly, “we could talk.”

“Talk?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“I would like to get to know you more. Learn more about you, if you allow it.”

Talk. Yes, just like people did when they spent any amount of time around each other. He supposed that knocking boots was not enough for someone like Tav, someone who was… sweet.

Astarion supposed he could be forgiven for jumping to the conclusion that her asking to stay was asking for sex. He met few people who wanted him for his conversation skills. Most wanted to bed him, some wanted to spend time with him afterwards. He could recall hardly any who actually seemed to care for him or his past. And one of these people was sitting in her undershirt and waiting for him to make a decision. Always so patient with him, always treating him with such respect.

“Alright, why not,” he conceded, feeling his shoulders relax a touch now that he knew that she was not expecting him to perform. “Seeing as a night of passion is off the table and there is plenty of time until sunrise, I might enjoy this- this getting to know each other better idea. Though you may want to put something on, the night is quite chilly.”

Unfortunately, Tav had little else to wear. Seeing as others were always a priority, she purchased very few things for herself. Astarion rolled his eyes as he saw her eyeing her armour with uncertainty.

“Here,” he pulled his shirt off and handed it to her. “Whilst I may be all but immune to the elements, it wouldn’t do for our leader to be bested by a common cold.”

She hesitated briefly before taking the shirt and slipping it on. It smelled like Astarion, bergamot, rosemary and something else. Something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on but didn’t want to ask.

They walked out of her tent and Astarion took a seat near the campfire.

“So how should we go about it, dearest?” he asked without looking in her direction, but rather focusing on trying to minimize the damage that she did to her clothes.

Honestly, had no one taught her to sew? This work was worse than anything done by the other spawn even in their early days!

“How about… a question for a question?” she suggested, taking a seat beside him.

“Is anything off limits? Are you truly prepared for everything that you might uncover?” he teased, squinting a little as he used the sharp, pointy edge of scissors to carefully unpick her terrible stitches. “Us big city folk come with our terrible, depraved secrets.”

Ah, a blush for his efforts. Familiar territory.

“I can’t say what is off limits,” Tav said, playing with the collar and the ruffles of his shirt with her long, nervous fingers. “How about you are allowed not to answer any one question of your choosing?”

“Seems reasonable,” he shrugged, finally getting the thread that she used to cooperate and pulling on it until the fabric was no longer bunched awkwardly.

“What is your favourite colour?”

How uninspired. Honestly, were they children?

“I assumed it was blue,” she went on. “Your underwear is blue. And you seem to favour the blue dye, when you have a choice.”

“Observant, are we?” he chuckled. “Just how long has it been since I’ve piqued your interest? And yes, this is not a rhetorical question. I do expect an answer.”

“I guess… When you opened the doors on the bugbear and the ogre.”

“Oh? How scandalous of you to find that appealing! Did that get you excited?” he elbowed her gently, finding to his surprise that he was rather enjoying the light tone of the conversation.

“No,” Tav laughed, “but it was the first time you smiled. A real, proper smile. That image stayed with me for a long time. And got me wondering… what is beneath the polished look and practiced mannerisms?”

If Astarion had actually fed on her and any blood coursing through him at this moment, he was quite sure that he would have blushed.

He cleared his throat, “I believe it’s your turn to ask.”

She nodded, but didn’t ask him anything immediately, content to simply watch him for a while. The work of his dexterous fingers was such a contrast to her clumsy, inexperienced movements. Tav knew that she was way out of her depth when it came to Astarion and didn’t think that she would be able to figure him out even if she tried. Which is why she looked for an excuse to talk to him without others being around, wanting to get to know him better. But every time she tried to have a genuine conversation with him in the past, his expression would shutter, and he would give her some tired, clearly practiced lines. And perhaps it was foolish of her, but Tav felt she wanted to get to know him. To really know him.

 “What makes you happy? And I mean apart from walking in on freaky sex.”

“Tsk, I was going to say just that, actually. Took the words right out of my mouth, you cheeky pup.”

In truth, he was not really sure how to answer that. Happiness has not been part of the equation for over two centuries. Survival and prevailing against all odds. That was all that he was concerned with.

“I’m not exactly sure,” he finally admitted with a frown. “Drinking your blood makes me feel… strong. Powerful. Free. I am not sure what it means  to be happy in your books, but I believe this is it for me.”

He took a furtive look at her from underneath his lashes and was taken aback a little by the genuine, warm expression on her face. By the gods! Who did that? Who actually went around looking at people like that? No one did, in his experience.

“I hope you find more things that make you happy,” Tav said earnestly, giving his shoulder a light squeeze.

“Well, the pleasure of your company definitely tops that list,” he cleared his throat and moved away a little, feeling uncomfortable at the warm feeling that bloomed in his chest. Whatever it was.

“Well, of course! But I mean inconsequential nothings. Something that will make you smile. Something that will make you look forward to tomorrow.”

“And what makes you happy, Tav, hm? Seeing as you are the expert on the matter?”

To his surprise, he actually found that he wanted to know the answer.

“Well, it’s nothing unusual. Seeing people I care about being happy. Being helpful. Seeing families reunited.”

“Tsk, you are no fun!”  Astarion clicked his tongue in annoyance. “And here I was, actually answering your questions properly and what do I get in return? A cookie-cutter hero ‘I live to serve’ answer. Give me a break,” he scoffed.

“You don’t believe that people can help others just because?” Tav tossed several sticks into the campfire, the flames rising to lick the dry wood hungrily.

“No,” he said firmly, with conviction. “Not in my experience.”

He took a deep breath that he did not need, more for effect than out of necessity. “People are cruel, vile and everything is done for gain and nothing else.”

“You don’t mean that,” Tav looked down at her knees, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Oh, but I do. My sweet, sweet friend. Kindness gets people tortured. Kindness gets people killed. Kindness is the root of all trouble and you will be better off if you realise this sooner rather than later-” he stopped himself abruptly when he realised that he almost shouted that last part.

They fell silent, the crackling of the fire loud in the stillness.

“I’m sorry you feel this way,” she finally said.

“It is the truth.”

Astarion did not have to look at Tav to know that she disagreed. It didn’t matter. Their experiences were too different. They were too different. She probably was a nice girl from a small town in the middle of nowhere where neighbors were friends, and every day ended with a lovely sunset over the fields. At least that was what Astarion imagined when he thought about Tav’s home. He never actually bothered to ask. Come to think of it, none of them asked Tav about her past. Although they all seemed to be eager enough to have her help them on their personal quests, they actually knew very little about her.

“Goodness me, we seemed to have gotten carried away with that lively discussion,” he cleared his throat, realising that he was silent far too long. “Your shirt is almost fixed, so one last question.”

“Of course,” she stretched, fighting back a yawn.

“The scars on your side,” he noticed that Tav immediately moved to cover them up, pulling his shirt down with a jerk. “How did you get them?”

He had noticed them before, the night of the party. But he didn’t really care to ask then. Astarion out of all people knew that scars could tell quite a story. Cazador told him that his were a poem, but he was determined to find out exactly what it was that that bastard carved into his skin.

Astarion was a little taken aback when Tav’s demeanor changed, the expression turning bitter for the briefest moment before she caught herself. When she turned to look at him, her smile was as pleasant as any she would usually give him.

“Ah. I believe this is the question I will choose not to answer. At least not tonight. Thank you for my shirt and for talking to me. I enjoyed getting to know you a little better. Goodnight.”

“Sleep well, my dear,” he handed her the mended shirt, watching her walk away from the campfire without another word.

Well, perhaps there was more to their fearless leader after all. There was definitely a secret, something that she did not want to be uncovered just yet. And that piqued his interest. Perhaps a glass of wine or two would loosen her tongue next time they decided to meet for a chat.

Astarion scowled. Him finding talking to Tav pleasant and them bonding was not part of the plan. On the contrary, any sort of relationship was a hindrance.

The vampire rose soundlessly and looked into the woods. Perhaps a hunt to clear his head would do him good. If anything, it would take his mind off Tav. Because whatever was happening between them had to remain a transaction. And it would be prudent not to forget that even for a moment.

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