#is this a coincidence? or are you telling on yourself by sending me so many asks?

[zorosdimples]

it’s so funny that you’re being a warrior for this lame ass opinion as if it doesn’t basically tattle to everyone you’re insecure about your own lacking talents 😂 anyone can summarize a story in a few paragraphs. that’s what it is, a summary !! a story being told does not automatically make it fic writing !! acting like your 300 words is a ‘fic’ is delusional. that’s hardly even a drabble and it’s okay to admit that honey 😂 no one said you didn’t have a place in fandom but acting like you can compare your work to actual lengthy, detailed, and time-committed content is so pathetic

this is the last of your asks that i’m going to answer as you are clearly talking to me in bad faith. but if my opinion is so lame, why are you engaging with it? you’re free to move on and block me if i’m so pathetic.

a lot of our personal opinions are formed by our own experiences, thoughts, and insecurities; this is part of being human. thank you for pointing out something so blatantly obvious.

i never claimed that my short fics are on par with long fics. but i also put hours of work into my prose, and it shows. i’ve read plenty of long-form writing that could’ve been told more concisely, is hard to follow, and is annoyingly repetitive as a result. quantity doesn’t equal quality—have you ever heard of that adage before? or are you truly as ignorant as you come across here?

[acid-ixx]

oooh so did we divorce Bruce, or is this an infidelity type of situation?

a loving family, an unpalatable desire: first meeting (unofficial)

— related post !

a/n: a tad bit nsfw. if this sounds messy, spare me. i'm running on like 4 hours of sleep and the will of a thirsty man in front of an oasis. i told yall im going insane for this plotline. ofc a&a still has my heart but I also love to occasionally write for smth else in the sidelines. send in more asks yall hehe.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

definitely an infidelity type of situation, anon! you see, the affair was caused by all mere coincidence. you were to attend with bruce in one of lex luthor's extravagant show of a gala, hold his arm for a brief moment when you walk out of the limousine, only to be abandoned right in the middle of the enormous room.

of course, the right reaction was to be pissed, to badmouth the very man who decided to court and entertain others in front of you; but you chose to stay silent, biting back choked tears by stumbling over the buffet table, only to be met with stupid, overbearing paparazzi and journalists.

so when clark kent rushes in to save you from stuttering over the dozens of microphones and cameras shoved right in your face, granting them access to your pathetic sobs— it's only right that your first reaction was to lean against his body, dismissing the hushed, harsh gossips of journalists.

it was at a time where you're not aware of his identity of superman. well, bruce barely permits you to enter the batcave, only if you stubbornly pester alfred does he let you, only to kick you, his darling spouse right out the moment you step on the cold, hard floors of the lair.

so it's not... a bad thing, right? your husband had a child with another woman, raised him as his own, didn't even bother to notify you with his infidelity— so is it your fault if you slowly start to fall for a man who promises you the world? who actually has the ability to give you the world in the palm of your hands? whose kid lets you pamper him without any fight?

sure, he's coping with... the loss of his previous wife but you're such a perfect spouse, so undeniably attractive, captivating in the hearts of many. your distant eyes, the way you bite the inside of your cheeks, the way your body sways back and forth as if begging for someone, your husband, to provide you a pillar of support in the suffocating heat of paparazzi.

he could be that pillar, could be your support.

when he first came up to you, his intentions weren't to obtain gossip about the oh-so silent spouse of bruce wayne. he didn't even want to acknowledge your marital status, palms already taking your wrist just so he could lead you off to somewhere quieter.

"it's an interview," he whispers an excuse to your reddened ears. but the buzz of his breath, the warmth, the caged arm on your waist tells you it's more than that.

but you don't fight back, you'd rather be anywhere than be the spotlight of a media that eats you up, makes you doubt your marriage even more.

so you're grateful that someone came to your rescue.

this would be the first time you ever saw someone as a savior, and it's not superman, no. it's clark kent, your resident, widowed, journalist.

and for clark's case, you warm his bed better than anything else. you allow clark this sense of respite, a break from heroic activities. allow him to be human, just as he allows you to play your fantasies of being a house spouse; you're perfect for each other.

to hell with useless marriage papers that don't even give bruce a sense of obligation to act as your husband, right? what can it do, when you're absolutely smitten with the current life you're living?

the first stages of your infidelity with clark is confusing, but very much welcomed into your already hectic life.

firstly, you convince yourself, it was all mere 'emotional cheating'. you began texting clark, he does too. an occasional greeting in messages, a passing congratulation for something, then the next it was good morning messages, 'have you eaten breakfast yet?, 'how'd the appointment go?'.

you don't know when it started, when your feelings started, when you began an intimate to romantic relationship with the man— all you knew was that the moment he revealed his superhero identity was the moment he decided to bed you for the night, the moment you grant the man, now your partner, access to every part of your depraved body, made him make you beg for more, giving him all the time in the world to kiss your imperfections, to fondle sensitive parts long untouched, to leave lovebites deeper and darker than the ones you caught bruce with.

you can't help it, he's unknowingly handsome, especially when he invites you over to his ma and pa's farm the next day, pretending to not notice the way your eyes hungrily flit over his topless body, sweat and budding pecs encased in a muscled form. over the course of dinner, you kept biting your lips, warm cheeks at the implications that clark merely wanted to sit next to you just so he could handfeed you, something about him being prideful that you'd definitely enjoy this week's harvest... but his fingers circling your thighs just seems to get you brain all haywired.

yet you stay, and continue visiting for long hours either way, enjoying the man's attention.

you know it's wrong, he knows it's wrong. but the way his son, jon looks at you like you mean the world, the way he's slowly starting to heal the longer you stay over at his place makes clark want to... what's the word? ah, he wants to turn you into his loving trophy spouse. all you need to do is provide jon with all the support in the world.

as for bruce... well, him and his family can deal with your absence for the first few months. but when the lingering feeling of emptiness becomes too much, when bruce no longer feels the worried gazes, or when dick can't hear anymore laughter in one of the supposed 'barren' rooms, or when tim's security systems tracked a missing device, one now in a completely different city.

that's when they start to yearn for someone they purposely let go

[luveline]

grumpy hotch x pregnant reader where he is just having an off day and the team calls reader in to deal with him and as soon she arrives in his office he just holds her and her belly as she scratches his scalp omg 🥹😭🫶🏻

You’re lounging in your husband's favourite chair with a book and an ice cold soda in your hand when your phone rings. You almost knock your tooth out pulling it up to your face without looking, wanting it to be Aaron, knowing it probably won’t be. Maternity leave can be excruciatingly boring. 

“Hello?” you ask. Your book slides down your bump. You pull it back up. 

“Hi, mom.”  

You grin to yourself. “Hi, Emily. Please tell me you’re calling because you miss me and you know I have cabin fever.” 

“I’m calling because someone misses you.” Her ire tone is unmissable and ever endearing. “I do miss you, I can’t wait for you to have your stinking baby and come back to work.” 

“That would be fun, right? We’ll get Hotch on paternity leave.” 

“It’s him I’m calling about.” 

“Is he okay?” you ask. You know if he were injured she would’ve mentioned that first. You’re not so scared of his being grumpy. 

“Moody as ever. I can’t believe I’m asking you to, but would you consider coming in for lunch? I’ll send a car, no walking, but he could really use it. He’s been biting off heads all morning.” Emily laughs down the line. “You’re the only one who can cheer him up.” 

It’s not true, but you are usually the quickest. You bid Emily goodbye with a promise to be there soon and get dressed, with no choice but to wear some maternity pants and a peplum blouse. Any excuse to see your haggard husband is one you’ll take. 

You look at your bump and you love the baby in there, but it feels weird sometimes to see yourself differently. If Aaron weren’t as nice about it as he is, you would’ve broken down by now; he’s sussed many breakdowns before they could begin, kissed fingertips and collars promising you’re just as pretty as always. And it’s reassuring, but it isn’t pretty that worries you. You’re a genuine walking beach ball right now. 

The car Emily promises is none other than Anderson himself. “He’s bullying you?” you ask him. 

He doesn’t say yes or no, but his smile is enough of a clue. You can’t get to the BAU quick enough (though you’re slower these days), pushing open the glass door with a tired sign. 

Spencer comes across you first by coincidence. “Hey!” he says, ushering you in for a hug, his cup of coffee hot behind your shoulder. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting.” 

“He’s in a mood,” you say. Not without fondness. 

Spencer grimaces. “Sort of.” 

Emily attacks you from the side. “Thank god you’re here! I think he just told Morgan to go fuck himself,” she says under her breath. 

She’s just saying it to make you laugh, and it works. It’s vaguely out of character, but if you know Emily, you know she has a crass, often dirty-minded side, and it’s been a while since you’ve heard her swear. You’re still giggling when the door you’d been making your way to opens. 

Aaron emerges with an expression half bemusement and half confusion. “Honey?” 

“My love,” you say, too quiet for him to properly hear, but he can read lips just fine. 

He rushes in a very gentlemanly display down the steps to help you up them, but you’d only been going up them to see him, and you stop at the foot of them with your hand raised to his elbow. “Hey, handsome.” 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“Nothing. Just missed you, wanted to have dinner, and I figured you couldn’t say no. You know.” You touch your tummy. “Considering.” 

He peers suspiciously past your head. “Yeah?” 

You look where he’s looking, find Emily and Spencer not so subtly turned away. You laugh again, pleased when the sound makes him smile. “Come on. Take me to your office.” 

He puts a hand behind your shoulders and leads you upstairs to his office. There are papers strewn haphazard across the front of the desk, his briefcase open and muddled, his pen lost within the mess. You’re smug knowing he’d been knee deep in paperwork but abandoned it all when he heard you laughing, like he just couldn’t miss it. 

“Let me sit you down,” he says. 

“Woah, slow your roll. Why are you stressed?” 

He blinks at you. “There’s a lot to do?” 

“Sure, but why are you stressed about me? I can sit down by myself.” 

He must look at you for five whole seconds without saying a word, and the door’s not closed, there’s no answer to your question, and then he takes you into his arms for a hug. “I know you can,” he says. 

It’s admittedly hard to hug him with the bump between you. You worry you’re hurting him as your cheeks press together, crushing his shoulders under your hands. 

He usually asks first, but he knows by now that you’re two halves of the same heart, two sides of the same coin, his hand slipping between you both to nudge aside your shirt and feel your stomach. 

You close your eyes. 

“Rough day?” you ask. 

“A lot to do…” His face moves down into your neck. 

You know what he wants, moving your hand to the back of his head to thread your fingers into his hair. “I can fix it,” you say sympathetically, beginning a gentle scratch of your nails against his scalp. 

“How’s that?” 

“If I go into labour right now, you get a reprieve.” 

“Honey, in the most loving sense possible, you going into labour now would not be ideal.” 

“It’s gonna happen one day, babe. And you’re gonna be just as busy then. You need to take less on or–”

“No, I know.” 

His hand slides still under your shirt to your hip, encouraging you away from him, his eyes flitting up and down your figure, checking you over. You let your hand fall to his shoulder, fingertips interested in the starchy fabric of a new suit. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, dipping down to give you a kiss. His eyes are dark, so close. “That helped. What can I get you for dinner?” 

You give a fond, pitying smile. You’re not gonna get him out of this office today, that’s for sure. “Half your sandwich, probably.” 

He kisses you again. You take it for a thank you. 

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Chapter 7

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Trying to balance good writing with getting out chapters quickly so bare with me!

Content warnings - violence and death, cursing

“It’s a clock!” Katniss exclaims. “Wiress, you’re a genius!”

Katniss explains to the group how the arena works, making you realize that you running into the tribute during the lightning was just a coincidence, and the lightning didn’t always mean danger.

The group decides to go to the cornucopia to survey the arena and test their theory. You would like to grab a weapon but you don’t know if that’s allowed. Katniss already confiscated the arrow she shot you with so all you have is a weak arm and an injured arm.

Finnick walks between you and Peeta, with Katniss behind him. You really need to earn her trust back if you’re going to stay with the group, although, you don’t know how much she trusted you to begin with.

Katniss and Peeta warily eye you as you look through the weapons, trying to find a knife or two. Too many large weapons will just slow you down. You’d rather just have a few knives on you.

“She’s fine,” you hear Finnick tell the pair. “It’s safer for us that she is armed in case we get attacked. She’s already told me she doesn’t want to kill you so I doubt she’ll throw any knives your way. She knows the difference between doing damage in a fight and killing. Just give her space and don’t act so on edge around her. She’s doing her best.”

Katniss lowers her bow but doesn’t make any move to distance herself from you. It seems like the guarding followed you from the capital to the arena.

The group sits down as Peeta draws a map of the arena. Wiress goes down to the water to clean off some wire Beetee got that you assume is for his big smart plan.

“Did you see anything where you went?” Finnick asks you. You shake your head and just point at the lightning Peeta drew on the map.

“Just lightning?” he confirms and you nod your head. Looking at the map, you’re glad you only ended up with lightning. The rest of the jungle looks terrifying.

The group begins chatting about birds in mines when you hear a sudden gasp. You all turn to see Gloss slitting Wiress’ throat. If the capital wanted you to act feral, they were about to get a show.

It happened so fast. Katniss shot Gloss before Johanna threw an axe into Cashmere, killing her instantly. You noticed Brutus and Enobaria going for Finnick and Katniss but you were too far away to stop the knife Enobaria threw from sinking into Finnick thigh. She’s dead.

You charge at her, screaming like a wild animal. She seems ready for your attack, however, and positions herself for your oncoming blow. You collide with her, sending both of you to the ground.

There’s no time to reach for the blade tucked into your belt. You claw at her face, drawing blood, as she attempts to push you off her. She’s successful in rolling the two of you over, putting herself on top. You go to grab for a knife when her teeth sink into your wrist, shooting pain through your whole body. It’s a shock she didn’t bite your whole hand off.

That’s when the cornucopia starts spinning. Enobaria leaps off of you and tries her best to escape with Brutus while the rest of the group is caught off guard by the movement. You clutch onto the rocks with your good arm but you can feel yourself slipping.

Katniss falls off the same time you do, sending both of you into the water. Even with your bad arm, you’re still a better swimmer, so when the water calms you’re able to orient yourself.

You spot Katniss struggling to find the surface a few yards away from you, so you dive back under and swim to her. Bracing yourself for human contact, you grab her arm and start propelling her to the surface. It takes her a second to realize you’re helping, especially with the amount of blood you’re releasing into the water, but she swims with you till you reach air again.

Peeta helps her out of the water, checking to make sure she’s ok. You do your best to pull yourself up but you’re in too much pain. Finnick takes notice and grabs onto you, yanking you onto the rocks.

He doesn’t even have to say what you’re thinking. The bite looks bad. It’s hard to tell if Enobaria punctured the vein in your wrist but you think she did due to the amount it’s bleeding.

“Johanna,” Finnick calls. “Do we have any bandages left?”

“Nope,” she shouts. “The only ones we had went to Volts.”

“Shit,” he mutters, trying to figure out what to do. He uses your knife to cut the arm off your wetsuit, apologizing that he had to cut yours as his was destroyed by the fog. He wraps the fabric tightly around your wrist, trying to stop the bleeding.

“This should work until we can get some sponsors to send us something better,” he states. You shake your head at him. Sponsors wouldn’t send you anything. You were on your own.

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[tetsuskei]

‘too-too’ - kuroo tetsurō [fluff]

notes: repost. also inspired by work (yay capitalism) and self indulgent. wrote this for a piece of mind, if you will.

warnings: toxic work habits, etc, bad title names, not edited completely

word count: 1.4k

“is everything alright?”

your eyes snap up to your coworker, kuroo tetsurō. he leans against your cubicle. tall, muscular figure moving to look down at you with concern.

you blink, fingers pausing their movements over your keys. “what do you mean?”

kuroo is a strange individual. he’s funny, and nerdy, and a little clumsy sometimes (you’ve seen him burn his hand one too many times with hot coffee). but he has a good heart. one probably made of gold. he’s always genuine when it comes to his actions.

“i’ve just been noticing the boss has been piling a lot of work on you as of lately…i didn’t know if maybe you were overwhelmed.” he suggests, shrugging. he stuffs his hands in his pockets and peers over to the stack of files on your desk. “that all need to get done today?”

you sigh, running your hand through your hair, “no, but they will need to by the end of the week. i can handle it all though, with a couple of late nights. i appreciate your concern, kuroo.” you send him a weak smile.

at work you’re known as the one who can handle anything and everything with no complaints. your boss seems to hold you in high regards to it, coworkers are jealous of your ability, and your family has always been proud of how hardworking you are.

the only problem is, people take advantage of this. they ask for your help on minor things, interrupt you when you’re clearly busy, or assume you’ll have the time and tell your boss you’ll take care of it (without your notice).

kuroo is one of the only people who doesn’t do that. he genuinely comes up to you for conversation and asks about you. he’s taken you out to lunch (usually by force to drag you away from your work), brought you coffee, and always made sure you’re okay.

you don’t want to say his actions have caused a small crush to develop, but you’d be a horrible, horrible liar. after spending so much time with him, you begin to see just how handsome his features are. how sharp and angular his jawline and cheekbones are, how he laughs and has dimples appear, how his hazel eyes sparkle with mischief whenever he tells a (horrible) joke—

suddenly fingers are snapping in front of you and you’re brought back to the present.

“you sure you’re good?” kuroo looks down at you with concern and you feel your heart swell a bit. “you’re spacing out.”

“peachy!” you respond, and feel your cheeks get warm. you hope he doesn’t notice. “I couldn’t be any better!”

his perceptive eyes pensively train on you. “well, I’ll be on my way then. don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.”

“sure.” you nod, smiling.

and just as stubborn as you are, kuroo is more stubborn.

for the next few days, the man is always lingering around when you’re working late.

“what a coincidence, i’m here late, too! need a buddy?” and he’s already invading his way into your space before you can say ‘no’.

you feel as if there’s something he isn’t telling you, but you don’t ask.

the two of you share ordered dinner, chatting and bantering. time goes a lot faster with him, and you think it’s because he’s made you more productive (despite his antics), but you also know it’s because it’s him.

“you know it’s okay to ask for help, right?” kuroo points out again one day. “you don’t have to take on everything by yourself.”

“well, what do you know?” you say spitefully.

he senses your offense, and he knows quickly explains, “i-i’m not saying you can’t handle things, but you shouldn’t work yourself to death. i mean, you’re amazing at what you do, and—“

“look, i’ve been in your shoes before, and i know the feeling all too well. i just know it doesn’t feel great.” he finishes.

“thank you, kuroo.” you smile, “and I’m sorry for snapping at you…maybe i’m just tired and need a break.”

he perks up at this, “then why don’t we go do something?”

you shake your head, “i can’t…i have to finish this.”

“don’t worry. it’s already done.” he assures.

your mouth falls open, “how…?”

he laughs nervously, “well, don’t hate me when I say this…”

you narrow your eyes teasingly. “can’t promise that. but how bad can it be?”

“i rallied up those coworkers you talked to and told them you weren’t available to help them because we’re going on a date.” he confesses, scratching the back of his head. “may have also threatened them to not take advantage of you again…”

you sputter, choking on your food, “a date? like…a romantic date?”

“if that’s what they assume, then yes. which by the way, did you know people think we’re dating?”

there’s another strike to your heart, “they do?! but…how? why?”

he hides his face in his hand, cheeks a light pink, “dunno, maybe it’s because i spend most of my time with you…”

you’re shocked at his words, feeling like you need someone to pinch you. “really?”

“really.” he nods, leaning in towards you. “i thought it was obvious but I guess not…” he laughs.

you shake your head. “i didn’t want to assume anything, so i just thought you were being nice.”

“i mean, yes and no. i always like helping people, but i’d really use any excuse to talk to you.” he admits with a goofy grin. “but i’m sorry if i’ve made you uncomfortable in anyway.”

“no…i just didn’t think you’d feel that way about me, too.”

“‘too’?” he parrots.

you’re quiet for a moment and then say, “well maybe i have feelings for you and wasn’t going to confess unless i knew you liked me back. you do, right?”

“yes! i like you too—too!” he exclaims, probably louder than he means to. “i mean—“

you giggle, “i like you too-too, tetsu.”

he relaxes, like a weight has come off his shoulders. “well, as your date, i say we leave here. one more file to look at and i’ll cut my own head off.” he says.

“agreed.” you nod, standing up alongside him.

you both pack your things up and soon make your way outside. you’re brutally reminded of the cold autumn air as you feel it hit you in the faces.

a shiver comes over you, and you shrink within your own coat, trying to retain any and all warmth.

“here,” kuroo quickly wraps his scarf around you and you quickly smell mint and some form of expensive cologne. you bury you face in it and feel more at ease.

“thank you.” you gush.

he hums, “no problem.”

the two of you quickly find yourselves in an arcade. you both play games and you quickly learn how 1. competitive, and 2. horrible kuroo is at games. to soften his sour mood, you do win him prizes on his behalf.

“i haven’t had fun like this in awhile!” you beam. the two of you leave the arcade, kuroo offering to walk you home.

“i can tell, you haven’t stopped smiling since we left.” he says, chuckling.

“thanks to you, i guess.” you joke.

“you’re welcome, i’ve been losing on purpose just for you.” he admits.

you blink, not convinced. “sure.”

kuroo pouts, “it’s true,” he gestures down to his bag full of toys, “worked out in my favor, too.”

“right, tetsu.” you snicker, smirking.

the ravenette feels his heart swell at your words. “heh. well, more important prize is you, though.” he says cheekily.

“corny, but I’m flattered.” and before he can say another (horrible) pun, you pull him to your height by his work tie before abruptly kissing him on the lips.

this definitely throws the man off as he stumbles a bit, gasping against your mouth in surprised. his lips are soft and a bit chapped, his mouth tasting like candy from the arcade.

when you pull away, you say, “thank you for treating me to an evening like this. i didn’t realize how much i needed it.”

he slips his hand into yours, his large palm enveloping your smaller one in comforting warmth.

“of course. i just think someone as pretty as you shouldn’t have to worry about things so much.” he says, a faint blush appearing across his cheeks. “you shouldn’t let them walk all over you. make sure you have boundaries.”

you lean onto his shoulder, squeezing his hand. “you’re absolutely right. but you know what?”

he looks at you, “what?

“the only boundary that was worth crossing, was the one involving you.” you confess.

and in kuroo’s honest opinion, you couldn’t have been more right.

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

Prompt List

Hey! I am so sorry for not uploading for like five months! I really want to start uploading again but I think doing so many Taylor Swift inspired prompts burnt me out - if you sent a request or do send one I will get to it just give me time.

Here is a prompt list I'll be using from now on, like always if you have your own idea(s), send them in!

These's prompts include: "dialogue", 'anything in quotations is what the whole fic will be based around', 5 times plus 1, AU's and more!

Send in just one or merge some ideas together!

Click here to add yourself to my tag list! 🤍

_______________________________________________

1 - “You’re in love with her, you know that right?”

2 - “I didn’t know where else to go.”

3 - “I’m replaceable, you’re not.”

4 - “You kept it?”

5 - Leaning their head on their shoulder

6 - “Because that’s what you and I do, we protect each other.”

7 - “I swear on us.” “Why us?” “Because there is nothing I have ever believed in more.”

8 - Person A getting hurt protect Person B

9 - “Hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

10 - “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

11 - “Whatever you do, don’t let go.”

12 - 5 times Person A and B correct people about their relationship status and the 1 time they just accept it

13 - Everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate. The world goes back to black and white when they die.

14 - “For what it’s worth, I never gave up on you.”

15 - Accidental love confession

16 - “You’re staring at him/her again.”

17 - “Give me one good reason why I should trust you?” “Because no matter how much you hate me, you know I have never lied to you.”

18 - “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

19 - “If there was ever anybody meant for me, it’s you.”

20 - “You had your chance with her. You had your chance and you blew it, and this is my chance and I am not going to blow it because we are made for each other.”

21 - ‘I still hope there is more to our story. Maybe we just had to fall apart to find each other again one day.’

22 - “You weren’t there…why weren’t you there? I needed you! I needed you and you weren’t there!”

23 - “It’s my job to keep you safe, yes, but you could work with me a little to make it easier.”

24 - “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you and you haven’t stopped thinking about me.”

25 - ‘I am usually an optimist but I have never hoped for a sad ending like I do for you and her.’

26 - “I can’t say if the day I met you was the best or worst day of my life.”

27 - “Don’t look at me like that.”

28 - ‘Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences.’

29 - “She’s my best friend, that’s never changed.” “Yeah, the only thing that changed was your feelings for her.”

30 - “How many fingers am I holding up?”

31 - “You’d die for her?”

32 - ‘He had that awkward tenderness of someone who had never been in love and was forced to improvise.’

33 - “I did it for you, you idiot.”

34 - “If I never see you again just know that I love you so, so much.”

35 - ‘He kissed her. Without warning, without permission. Without even deciding to do it, but simply because he couldn’t have done anything else.’

36 - “I thought you were dead!”

37 - Squeezing their hand reassuringly

38 - “Whatever you do, do not make a sound.”

39 - “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

40 - “I can’t do this without you. I won’t do this without you.”

41 - “See? I told ya they’d get together.”

42 - ‘There is some good left in this world and it is worth fighting for.’

43 - Born with your soulmates first name tattooed on your body

44 - ‘There are some people that you meet and you just know from the get go that they are important, that you have to do anything to keep them in your life. He was that person.’

45 - “You came to me, begging me for help!”

46 - “Tell me about your life before all of this.”

47 - ‘S/he would always be my biggest what if.’

48 - “It turns out I’m absolutely terrible at staying away from you.”

49 - One being forced to hurt the other but refusing, getting themselves hurt instead

50 - “Why is it always the people you can’t trust saying “trust me”?”

51 - ‘If you were going to die, I was going to die with you.’

52 - “You can’t sleep yet kid, I need you to stay awake.”

53 - ‘We met at the wrong time. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway. Maybe one day, years from now, we’ll meet in a coffee shop, in a faraway city somewhere and we could give it another shot.’

54 - Five times they wanted to say ‘I love you’ and the 1 time they finally did

55 - “I always thought you were the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

56 - “I’ve never had a family before.”

57 - “I’m not leaving without her.”

58 - ‘Sometimes we do everything right and it’s still not enough.'

59 - “Hey, you’re bleeding.”

60 - ‘We’re in love, we just want to be together. What’s wrong with that?’

61 - “Take me instead. Leave her/him and take me.”

62 - Sitting together on a rooftop

63 - “I think…I’m in love with (Name.)” “Congrats on being the last one to find out.”

64 - Needing somebody else to point out the fact you have feelings for character

65 - “I know we’re not…friends or anything, but…I’m here for you, if you need someone to talk to.”

66 - Drunken kiss

67 - “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

68 - ‘Home is not where you are from. It’s where you belong. Some of us travel the whole world to find it. Others find it in a person.’

69 - “If I had it my way, we’d never leave this bed.” 

70 - ‘Everything that needs saying, truly saying, begins with a lump in the throat.’

71 - When mysterious injuries appear on your body, it’s because your soulmate got them.

72 - ‘For old times sake.’

73 - “I’m never gonna be good enough for you, am I?”

74 - “Don’t hurt him! Just stop hurting him, please!”

75 - ‘Sometimes there are no words that can help. Sometimes you just need to sit together in silence and try to come to terms with how the world works.’

76 - “When I let a day go by without talking to you, that’s just not a good day.”

77 – “Do you have a plan?” “I have a gun.”

78 - “How long did you think you could hide that?”

79 - “Leave with me.”

80 - ‘She was good and he needed a little good in his life because without it there was an awful lot of darkness.’

81 - 5 places Person A and B have kissed plus the 1 place where they did more than that

82 - “Honestly I wasn’t listening but I always disagree with whatever you say.”

83 - “There’s no way I’m sharing a bed with you.” “You’re more than welcome to sleep on the floor.”

84 - Person B is frowning all the time but Person A can always see when they are happy (Grumpy x Sunshine)

85 - ‘I want you to always remember me. Will you remember that I existed and that I stood next to you here like this?”

86 - “I’ll do it, but only because you asked me to.”

87 - 5 times Person A treated Person B’s injuries, plus 1 time Person B treated Person A’s injury.

88 - ‘Maybe one day we’ll meet again and I’ll be right for you and you’ll be right for me.’

89 - "Dying in the middle of nowhere doesn't seem so bad if you're here."

90 - “Oh no, you’re a morning person.”

91 - “I hate you.” “I love you too.”

92 - “No, don't stop, keep talking. I like hearing you talk.”

93 - “Are you cold?”

94 - “What do you want from me?”

95 - “Look, I know you hate me but I don’t know what to do and I really need some help.”

96 - “I’m not leaving you. Not this time.”

97 - “I wish things had been different.”

98 - “I can’t leave you alone for a second without you getting into trouble, can I?”

99 - “You’re not sleeping?” “Nope.” “Why not?” “Don’t want you to stab me the second I close my eyes.” “I won’t.”

100 - “This isn’t just an (object), it’s a promise.”

[cafeinthemoon]

It's a Fire - Chapter I

Chapter 1

Wordcount 3,5k

Title Retired Hashira

Fandom Kimetsu no Yaiba / Demon Slayer

Symbols ⭕ ➕ 🖤

Warnings: arranged marriage; age gap; mentions of increasing in criminality and poverty; grieving; non diagnosed depression (the condition wasn't properly understood by the time this story is settled)

Tagging ? (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N.A.: So Kimetsu no Yaiba returned and I'm taking the opportunity to finally start posting this story that has been in my list of ideas for several months!

A while ago I made a poll where I included the option of writing a fic with the Rengoku family, and it was this one I was talking about. I know there are other stories I need to work on already, but let me tell you that this very fic just saved me from a creative block, which was caused by what I suspect to be the beginning of a burnout (I'm about to go on vacation and I just can't take it anymore, but I don't want to discuss this rn).

A few words about the ff itself: It's a slow burn, arranged marriage story between reader, who's 27/28 yo, which makes her closer to myself who's a bit older than this, and Shinjuro Rengoku, who's struggling with the same problems we see in canon, but somehow accepts her as his wife: she was the daughter of old acquaintances of his, so the marital contract is sealed to allegedly honor the friendship between the families. However, things are way more complicated in reality.

Of course, because of the things we see in the original media, such as violence, alcoholism and etc., I need to make it clear that my personal opinions on these subjects may diverge from what I'm putting in this story (due to personal family experiences), and each chapter will carry the necessary warnings. Also if you notice similarities with Beauty and the Beast, know that it isn't just a coincidence haha Finally, the title is a song by Portishead, which didn't influence my writing but its lyrics somehow fit this plot 🌹

I hope you have a good time reading this ❤

“You walk a lonely road 

Oh, how far you are from home” 

(Enya, May it Be) 

That fate didn’t care about your preferences and desires, you knew well. 

You wished you had your mother with you for long years, and that your relationship grew stronger as you spent your time together, dedicating yourselves to the art of the sword, but most of her time and energy were directed to her work as a member of the Demon Slayer Corps, and it was like this until the day you received a messenger from Ubuyashiki-sama to inform you about her death: she didn’t fall to the Oni, but couldn’t resist the injuries from a battle against a group of them. 

You also wished your father, after losing the woman he claimed to love, stood up to his remaining family, that is, himself and you, and took reasonable measures to protect his territory and the people who lived in it, but he preferred to lock himself in his office and ignore the demands outside it, firing half of the house’s servants for the sake of saving money and willing to leave the property to the dust and the insects, not seeing this happening thanks to you, who took the task of maintaining everything by yourself, even doing some of the physical work. 

There were, in fact, many other things you wished for, but didn’t have the chance to see them coming true. One of those other things were continuing to live in the house you grew up in, and using your education to dedicate your life to a career of your choice, though your options seemed limited by your sex. But even this was taken from you when, on an ordinary day, you saw your father leaving his office in the company of a man you’ve never seen in your life. You wanted to question him about this strange visit, but you didn’t have to: your father came to your chambers later, and without measuring his tone or giving you time to process such news, explained the meeting’s main subject. 

– I’ve recently contacted an old acquaintance of mine, someone who was also known by your mother – he started – And explained our situation here. 

You knew what he was talking about: after your mother passed away, your lands’ protection has been neglected, and appearances of demons have been reported more often by your servants and the people who live in the villages near. No one dared leaving their houses at night, and the local economy were deeply affected by this, since part of the basic work used to be done in this period of the day; this led to an increase in poverty and criminality. You, on your part, weren’t immune to these difficulties despite growing up in a privileged family. 

Your father addressing this situation to you, however, was something new, and you exposed this impression to him. 

– Things are getting harder for everyone here, that’s true – you agreed – But why are you discussing this with me now? 

– Because I asked this acquaintance for help, and he answered me – he took slow steps toward your window, half opened by that time; he closed it with firm hands, but without making much noise – The thing is that, at the same time our lands are now dangerous to people, specially to young women like you, it’s time for you to take the next big step in your personal life, daughter. After all, you’re almost twenty-eight. 

You frowned. 

Next big step? What is he talking about?… 

Your father might have noticed your confusion, because he soon clarified his words… and you wished he never did it. 

– I’m talking about marriage, y/n – he spat – You declined the last two proposals, and I respect your reasons for that, but this time the circumstances aren’t in our favor. This man who visited me earlier is a messenger from the Rengoku House, and he brought me a positive answer from their head: I offered your hand and a good dowry in exchange for your protection, and in respect to your mother, who worked for the same cause as him, Shinjuro Rengoku accepted you as his wife. You’re leaving the house this week. 

You were speechless. You tried to stand up and show a sign of protest, but your legs didn’t obey you; you opened your mouth to say something, but no word left it. You knew your father have been struggling, but you could never suppose he was becoming insane – arranging a marriage for you without your consent? Other men used to do this to their daughters, but the man who married your mother would never… But, apparently, he was no longer this man. 

Maybe he was expecting some disagreement, but seeing your silence made him frown. 

– Don’t you have anything to say about this? 

You finally seemed to wake up. You gave him a dead glare, murmuring your response. 

– And what do you expect a woman to say after being sold and sent away from her own house out of nowhere? – you moved your head to the side, irony leaking from the gesture – Thank you? 

Your father clenched his jaw. 

– I certainly don’t expect your gratitude – his voice was lower now – I know this isn’t the future you wanted for yourself, and I didn’t want things to be like this either, but… 

– Why marriage, father? – your tongue was released, interrupting his thread of thoughts like a storm – I could stay temporarily with them, work for them, anything! But marrying someone I’ve never met?! Don’t you remember that I’ve declined the other proposals after at least seeing the faces of those men? 

– You’ll meet him on the wedding day, and you’ll have all the time of the world to know anything there is to know about him – his tone was louder again, as his patience was running low – Besides, Shinjuro is an old friend of mine. I give you my word that he’s a decent man, besides being a formidable warrior. He was married to a respectable woman once, and built a good family with her. I trust him, and so did your mother. No problems should be expected from his part, so the same must be expected from you. 

Shinjuro. It was only the second time you’ve heard that name from your father’s mouth, and you didn’t know what to think. In fact, you’ve learned from your mother that among the Demon Slayer Corps there was an elite group known as the Hashira, and one of them was Shinjuro, the Hashira of the Flames. He was the current head of the Rengoku family, but personal struggles – including the death of his wife – forced him to a retirement despite his capacity as a warrior, so that his eldest son, Kyojuro, took his place. However, you also heard that this young man was dead, so it was impossible to tell how things were going for his family members now. And that was the environment your father was willing to throw you into, even spending money in the process. 

You sighed. 

– Father, when was the last time you’ve met this man? I don’t remember you talking about him – you crossed your arms – I’m only familiar with his name thanks to mother, but now you’re telling me that he’s an old friend of yours. How old is he, exactly? 

– Not as old as me, of course – his reply came with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation – I can’t believe that, of all the things involved in this arrangement, this is what concerns you more! 

You scoffed. 

– I’m not that futile, but if he’s old enough to have a son capable of replacing him in the battlefield, I think I have the right to be concerned! – you took a step toward him – If I have no choice, I want to know exactly where I’m getting into. Can’t you even make such a small concession to me, father? 

No, he couldn’t, and you soon realized that. 

Your father decided the conversation was over. He returned to the room’s door and opened it. 

– It is decided, already – and, with a sort of sadness in his eyes – I’m doing what I think it’s best for my daughter. I only wanted her to trust me, at least for once. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. 

– I wanted this too, father. But you’re making it too difficult for your daughter. 

He stared at you for a moment, then left without any word. 

*** 

Things really happened the way you feared, in the path your father stated they would follow. He said that, but until the end he kept acting like he had no control over the flow of events, in a frail attempt to soothe his own conscience that only served to unnerve you, and not even seeing the disappointment in his daughter’s eyes each time he looked at you was enough for him to leave this pretense aside. Had he no shame anymore? 

During that fateful week, you avoided his company, leaving the burden of communication to the remaining servants and only speaking to him when utterly necessary. What was left for you to talk about when, as he said, everything was decided, and when you had nothing but sadness for him — for him, the adversities he’s been through and for the way he chose to behave in face of them? It was useless to argue on this, and whether you liked it or not, you had little time to put everything in order and couldn’t have the luxury of wasting it: would it be worthy to cause a delay in the arrangements under the risk of leaving a bad impression in your future spouse, even when he was someone you’ve never saw before? 

You sighed at the thought. 

And, as if I hadn’t enough things to worry about, I still have to consider this. 

In fact, you didn’t want to take much stuff from that house with you at the same time you didn’t want to cause any difficulties to the servants, who have already seen their load increase the last months, so you were quick to select essential items and packing them with the help of a maid, from your clothes to the gifts brought by your mother, and instruct her about what to do with the other things: some of them you gave to her, knowing that she had a daughter who was younger than you and who’d appreciate your charity, and the others, such as the furniture, should be sent to the villagers, for you wanted your things to be with people who would make good use of them instead of letting them rot in a place to where you’d never come back. 

Among all of this, the last object you packed was the only thing you made a point about carrying by yourself, and the only thing you didn’t trust anyone to pack but yourself: the sword of your mother, which was sent to your house by Ubuyashiki-sama and now belonged to you. Your mother has been teaching you lessons since you were a teenager, but she hasn’t lived long enough to see if you were going to develop your own Breath; well, until that day you haven’t, but you’ve never stopped practicing even under your father’s disapproval. You didn’t know what you would find once you stepped into your husband’s house, but you wouldn’t want to depend on his protection on everything; besides, having a wife who knew how to wield a sword must be an advantage, right? 

The train of thoughts, feelings and concerns was such that you were robbed from sleep the night before the ceremony. You knew women who had their marriages arranged as well, but you never got to talk to them about it; you had no idea of how you were supposed to feel, or how you were supposed to see the whole thing. How one should feel when they saw themselves trapped in a situation from which they couldn’t get out? Without having answers, you just relied on the feeling that seemed reasonable to you, that is, utter fear. 

The next morning came silent and inexorable, just as the ones before it, and you saw yourself leaving your bed and taking care of your duties without putting your thoughts on them. It was only your body working by itself, saving your soul from the burden of being conscious, or perhaps you were just accepting your fate after a night of tears and rage. 

Having dismissed the maid’s help, you bathed and dressed alone, and left the house where the most important moments of your life took place without one last look. To be fair, your eyes were so sore and tired that they barely registered the appearance of the weather while you walked to the carriage, but you guessed it was a warm, sunny day, though not enough for you to get sweaty. Your father was already in the carriage’s interior; you took the seat beside him with no signs of acknowledging his presence. 

The coachman shook the reins and yelled something to the horse, and the crack of the wooden wheels was heard as the vehicle moved along the road. 

*** 

The ceremony took place in a building in the city of (…), near your father’s property, which served as the head office of a group of law professionals, including the man responsible for your marital contract. 

You wouldn’t call it a ceremony, really: it was more of a sequence of bureaucratic procedures than a social event with the purpose of uniting two families; a mere formality to allow you to move to a man’s house without ruining your reputation. It was quick, direct and cold like a financial operation, and the people involved seemed to make sure it looked like this. 

Your father led you to a sequence of stairs and then through a narrow corridor, until he stopped in front of a door and opened it, entering the room and inciting you to follow him. You did it, and found out you weren’t the first to arrive: the officiant was already in his position, behind a table upon which you saw an open book; at its right, there was a small inkwell and a feather; around him, two officers which function you couldn’t guess and couldn’t care about. And, finally, in front of the table and observing your arrival with a stern glare, the man who was about to become your husband. 

Whatever you were expecting to see, Shinjuro was nothing like you might have imagined, except for the fact that he was younger than you supposed – and, indeed, younger than your father – and stole the attentions among all those men despite the quiet, composed manners. Well, he would do it in any place he’d step in, for his appearance was extravagant, to say the least: on his severe face he carried a pair of orange eyes under two thick, black eyebrows, a wild trait that made you think of a lion; framing his expression and matching his eyes, he had thick, blond hair that decreased to red on its edges, spreading over his shoulders. And, as if his looks weren’t enough to draw the whole room’s attention, he was dressed in sober, dark clothing, more like someone attending a western funeral than a wedding. 

As you walked to the center of the room, led by your father, and took the spot beside Shinjuro, you felt your skin burning in discomfort under his merciless eyes. You breathed deep and, when he nodded to acknowledge you two, you made an effort to greet him, as well as the other men. 

I knew he wasn’t the same person my father claimed to know. He stated that he was good and trustful, but everything in this man screams danger. What kind of hell I’m getting into… 

The officiant announced the beginning of the ceremony, and you turned to him in silence. After a few, composed words to the new couple, he gave you both clear instructions on where to sign your names, and you did as he said, Shinjuro first, then you; you glanced at his hand offering you the feather and took it in a second, taking care your hand didn’t touch his. You tried not to think of your gestures as you wetted its tip on the ink, but a tremble reached your wrist the instant you approached the feather from the paper. 

So… That’s it. I write my name in a book and enter a path from where I can’t go back. 

The realization was too much to bear and time was passing, so you bit your inner cheek to prevent your mind to entertain the thought and scribbled your name at once. When you moved the feather away and put it back on the inkwell, your hand acted by itself, and your arm gone numb once you recoiled it to your side. 

Your mouth was dry, and a hole seemed to have taken the place of your heart. You barely noticed when the officiant and the other witnesses analyzed your signatures and approved them, bringing the ceremony to an end. You refused to believe all of that was real until the man announced you were free to go, and both Shinjuro and you turned away, preparing to leave. He didn’t bat an eye at you while doing so. 

The head of the Rengoku family stopped to exchange some words with your father. You were close enough to hear the conversation, but didn’t want to pay attention; you just wanted to leave this place, even though you weren’t going to a familiar one after it. 

You only understood their conversation was over when you heard your father’s voice calling your name. You turned to him and your stomach curled in disgust when you saw the pleading smile on his face, the only thing that reminded you of home and now a sign of everything you lost. You’ve never felt so alone. 

Later, you’d try to remember his exact words for you at that moment, but you’d find yourself unable to do it. Maybe it was a formal wish of good luck or something. The only thing you remembered was your reaction: you stared at him for a few seconds, then, without a word, you turned your face away, walking toward the door. You knew your husband was observing, but his approval was the least of your preoccupations now. 

*** 

Little was recalled by you from the travel to the Rengoku house, except that it was silent, even calm period. The only abnormality was caused by you: unlike your other belongings, who were sent in another vehicle ahead under the supervision of a servant, you decided you were going to carried your sword with you in the carriage, to everyone’s surprise and your father’s discontentment. 

That occasion was also when Shinjuro spoke to you for the first time. 

— Why are you doing this? 

The question, made when you were already in the carriage, was direct but not devoid of politeness, so you granted him an honest answer. 

— This sword once belonged to my mother, and now it is mine. If my father had his way, I’d never carry it with me, but I refuse to leave it behind — and, glancing at him, — I couldn’t risk him checking my things and subtracting it from them without my consent. 

Shinjuro only murmured an “I see” in response, and the conversation died there. 

You were beside the carriage’s window and might have slept to the warmth of the sun and the constant noise of the wheels in movement, but you weren’t sure if you did. As your body was now avoiding visible reactions, your spirit was suppressing the emotional rush for your own good, since no advantage would come from a breakdown in the middle of the road, right in front of your new spouse who, just like you, didn’t seem all pleased with the whole thing: sure, he didn’t show visible discontentment whether with your appearance or your manners, but you’ve been dealing with middle aged men for too long to sense when they were seeing something they didn’t find appropriate; and, in the present case, it was clear to you that Shinjuro already formed his opinion: to him, you were a stubborn, spoiled brat who didn’t have her way and was decided to make it everyone else’s problem. Yes, the idea of acting like that wandered through your mind for a while, but you thought you were better than this, and opted for a balance between bitterness and decency, not wearing plain clothing and displaying rude manners, but also not being extravagant in anything; still, you couldn’t convince the man of your good nature, and he let it clear with the inquiring about the sword, so now you completely gave up on seeking his favor. 

You were just waiting for the travel to end. 

Chapter 2

[itsgrimeytime]

my oneshots masterlist \\

series, blurbs

CONTENT TAGS:

😳 - smut

🫣 - suggestive

💞 - fluff

⛈️ - angst

bite marks || (😳, 💞) SMUT *request

'That night was a nightmare, with blood spilled and threats to your group's lives. You weren't sure that everyone could recover from it, including yourself. What Rick did had to be done, there was no other choice. You knew that. So, why did it keep replaying in your head? And why did you like it?'

Available on Ao3

Don't Let Me In || (⛈️,💞)

'That day, your camp was raided. Gunfire and hostages, so many of you were lucky to be alive. After Rick and a few others gained control of the situation, you realize you were hurt. It was just a few scratches, there were others with worse. Rick highly disagreed.'

Available on Ao3

feelin' flirty || (⛈️,💞,🫣)

'Being a long-lost friend of Maggie's, you wind up at the prison, a line of dead walkers behind you. You are promptly confronted with one Rick Grimes, and it's suddenly your life's goal to flirt with him as much as you can. Rick doesn't usually respond, but what if one day he does?'

Available on Ao3

he's such a pretty liar || (⛈️,💞)

'You and Rick had gotten along at some point, at the farm and prison. You were friends even. Until the Governor killed Hershel, which you believed to be perfectly preventable. Because of his inaction then, you'd gotten a bitter taste in your mouth at the thought of him and eventually, he started to reciprocate the behavior. But as time passes, and you experience more and more with him, is it really hate that you feel?'

Available on Ao3

i know i got him || (💞)

'Ever since you showed up, you've had an effect on Rick. At least, that's what everyone said. Initially, you hadn't recognized it. But after one too many coincidences, it's starting to become a little impossible to ignore.'

Available on Ao3

I Told You Now || (⛈️,💞)

'You were in love with Rick, not that he knew. You weren't sure you were ever going to tell him. What could you say, you loved the kids and didn't want to lose them too. It was too risky. But finding out he was chasing after some married woman was just the last straw.'

Part 1, 2

Available on Ao3

Late Night Talking || (⛈️, 💞)

'You haven't been sleeping -you can't. You weren't used to this... safety that Alexandria brought. Or, at least, they said it brought. So, instead, you found yourself outside, staring out into the wilderness -with no purpose other than to keep watch. One of those nights, you had a visitor.'

Available on Ao3

like father, like son || (⛈️, 💞) *request

'Taking care of Carl, was like instinct. Ever since you've met him, you've just cared for him like your own. You don't know why, you just slotted into his side. And you thought that was pretty simple. But, what you had never thought about, was what it would mean for Rick.'

Available on Ao3

Scratch That Itch || (🫣, 💞)

'Honestly, you weren't sure how it started. It wasn't a competition, at least you didn't think it was. There'd been something between you and Rick, something that people couldn't quite label. And maybe you batted your eyes the first time, and maybe he smirked the second. Either way, this was getting out of hand.'

Available on Ao3

show me || (🫣, 💞)

'You and Rick had something, you weren't quite sure what it was. After a few drunken mistakes during one of the dinner parties at Alexandria, Rick wants to make things crystal clear.'

Available on Ao3

The Life We Could've Had || (⛈️)

'Rick knows you're gone, he does. He just keeps seeing you in everything -the distant smell of coffee in the morning, or the sand beneath his toes (when he finds himself on a beach.) And as he tried to scrub what pain he felt out of his head, he wondered just when he could see you again.'

Available on Ao3

wipe it clean || (😳) SMUT

'Rick fucks you up against a counter, that's it.'

Available on Ao3

All reblogs and comments are appreciated!! Feel free to send an ask or comment to get on any taglist :)

[merakiui]

I see Azul has joined the rom-com crew. I'm curious what role he has in this AU, considering Floyd is the boss.

I like to think Azul runs an extended branch of Mostro Lounge (he has always wanted to make it a franchise, after all!) and it's a comfortable coffee shop that is directly across the street from the shop you work at. Either Jade works at the Mostro coffee shop and is Perfectly Normal, or he works an office job somewhere in the city and is still Perfectly Normal (there is never true normality when you're Jade Leech). But I like the vision of Jade in a coffee shop apron, so therefore he shall work at the coffee shop!

This is purely rom-com coincidence because it allows for silly shenanigans such as Azul and Jade stalking you from across the street with binoculars and taking candid photos of you for Floyd's sake while also writing down little facts they learn about you so Floyd can have better chances at wooing you. Or keeping their distance while they watch Floyd interact with you (they sent him there to order drinks; Azul needs to gauge his competition, after all, and he's killing two birds with one stone by sending Floyd).

But this also works well in Floyd's favor because you notice just how creepy Azul and Jade are and it unintentionally helps you bond with Floyd, if only very slightly.

"Those weird guys are staring again..." you mumble, mostly to yourself, while you watch two heads of silver and teal hair drop down and out of sight.

Floyd follows your gaze and drags a callused hand across his steadily warming face. "They don't know nothin' about bein' sneaky," he grumbles, oddly embarrassed.

You turn to look at him. "Do you know them?"

Floyd flashes his teeth at you in a very awkward, very wide grin and tries (and fails) to look cool as he rests his elbows on the countertop and leans closer towards you. "Never known 'em—never met—don't know a thing about 'em or... Shit." He clears his throat, his grin faltering. This is not going well. "D-Dunno who you're talkin' about, Shrimpy..."

You peer at him, unconvinced, and set the drink holder in front of him; three drinks fit perfectly in each space. "Right... Well, have a nice day."

"Wait!" Floyd clamps his mouth shut, internally grimacing. Why is he so bad at this? Since when has he, Floyd Leech, been this horribly awkward? He kills people without a shred of remorse, and yet here he is twiddling his thumbs like a schoolboy in love. Which he essentially is, but still! He's Floyd Leech! "I mean... Y-Yeah, I know 'em. A little. Kinda..."

Pull out, Floyd. Pull out!

"Oh, great. In that case, could you tell them to stop? I like to work without a bunch of eyes on me, y'know?"

He laughs, but none of what you said was remotely funny and so now he's outwardly cringing, gripping the cardboard drink holder so tightly he thinks he might tear it in half. He gazes sidelong out the window and catches sight of Azul waving at him so wildly you'd think he's become one of those car dealership inflatables.

Floyd's eyes snap back to yours. "I'll deliver your message," he says stiffly, digging too many bills out of his pocket and stuffing them haphazardly into the tip jar, before bowing his head and slinking out the door.

He all but bursts into the empty coffee shop, slamming the drinks onto a nearby table just as quickly as he rounds on a disappointed Azul and a sympathetic Jade. Floyd would wipe that false smile off his face if he could; he knows very well Jade finds great amusement in this. But he's too dejected to muster the anger.

"That was so lame," he mutters, sinking into one of the booths, the admission punched out of him in a sad breath.

"What in all of the deep blue sea was that?!" Azul massages his temples, sighing in aggravation. "Despite all that we've practiced, I was forced to watch you fumble for ten minutes! Ten minutes, Floyd! And every second looked to be a waste of time."

"If it's any consolation," Jade begins, and Floyd knows this is going to be far from comforting, "our species is naturally cowardly. This is just a facet of social biology."

"Biology fuckin' sucks, fuckin' me over like this..." He sprawls in the booth, scrubbing the annoyance from his face. "This ain't workin,' Azul. Your teachin' sucks!"

"It would suck a little less if you paid proper attention," he snaps, folding his arms over his chest. "Just what are we doing wrong? I've compiled every trait favored by most humans and have tried to apply them to you. Proper dress, proper speech, proper manners..."

You're totally missin' personality, Floyd thinks, squeezing his eyes shut. Shrimpy ain't gonna like any of that manufactured shit. I definitely wouldn't.

He knows morays are cowards, but surely that only applied to hunting! Or so he always thought.

"And you guys are scarin' Shrimpy. Noticed the two of ya watchin' and told me to tell ya to stop bein' weird."

"It's good to be perceptive."

"It wasn't very subtle, Jade."

"Still, perceptiveness is rare for most humans nowadays. So wrapped up in their own devices. Too busy to notice danger before it's staring them in the face." He smiles wickedly, murderously, and gazes out the window. "It's a wonderful trait to possess."

"Regardless, the fact still stands that we are failing—even with all of these statistics!" Azul lowers into a chair, eyeing the beverages with disdain. The gears are turning in his head; he's hyper-focused. "On second thought... Right! Of course! Foregoing favorability altogether, wouldn't it be better to turn our attention to the dynamic at play here?"

Floyd sits up slightly, his brows furrowed.

"You're a criminal and, as far as we know, (Name) is a law-abiding citizen."

"So?"

"So..." He rests his elbows on the table, his hands steepled in satisfaction. "We use this to our advantage. Stalking is scary, yes, but being held at knifepoint—"

"We are not scarin' Shrimpy." Now he's fully up, his body angled towards Azul, eyes narrowed disapprovingly. "No way."

"No one said you had to be the scary one," Jade says, still smiling.

It doesn't take a genius to decipher their angle. "Hell no," he spits. "You're not sendin' Jade after Shrimpy."

"Why not? Last time I checked, I'm not nearly as much of a coward. I think I'm perfect for this job."

"Stop smilin,' you snobby fuckin' ass!" He moves to launch himself out of the booth, ready to rip Jade to bloody shreds, and is promptly stopped by Azul.

"If not that, have you considered simply initiating a conversation through text? I imagine it would be much easier to talk through a screen for the time being."

Floyd considers it. It's not a terrible idea, and it's certainly better than what was previously discussed.

"Fine. I'll ask for Shrimpy's number and go from there."

"A brilliant idea." Jade's really pushing it today. "We will continue to observe from afar."

Floyd's not sure if that's good or bad. Probably the latter, but their support is much appreciated, even if it's rather irritating most days. His eyes fall upon you through the glass, where you serve customers with a small smile. What is he doing wrong? Azul had verbalized that same question, and Floyd finds he can't yet answer it.

One day. It's definitely not today, though.

[mrs-monaghan]

Sis.. now you know I’m going to need your very elaborate thoughts on Jungkook concept photos 👀🫨🫢😳😱🤯🫠💃🏻🕳️⚰️

Look, if you need me to do something you can't be sending me gifs of Jimin raising his eyebrows at me. It's distracting as hell.

Okay so first things first: the word coincidence needs to be BANNED from Jikookers' mouths. Like completely deleted. Obliterated 1300% It needs to not exist anymore. No seriously, how long are we gonna keep using the word 'coincidence' and Jikook in one sentence before we all collectively decide to agree they do this shit on purpose?

"You are me I am you" can only go so far. That's for them having the same moles in the same places, them being born in Busan. Things like that, that are out of their control. Not things like this!

We know, like even if you're an anti you know JK has studied FACE. @jigokuhana and I were just talking about this, JK has everything about FACE memorised. He is prolly a bigger fan than all of us combined. And don't forget he saw everything before we did. So he knows what he's doing. Knows that we will catch similarities btwn FACE and SEVEN. Armys have noticed many things that Jikook (n members) tried to hide from us and I know over the years they have to have seen us noticing some of these things. So how will we fail to notice something that's right infront of our faces? And he knows this. Of course he knew we would notice.

So first we've all seen these floating about

Those alone are already like, crazy 😏 But then let's talk about the thorns/spikes/shards.

I mean, what are the chances??? 😳

When u support Jikook, u discover that they are actually really sappy/corny motherfuckers so you inevitably start to get corny yourself sometimes too. This is what my friends (one of them being @lovelysmyleyes) had to say about this. I'll just copy paste them, coz I absolutely agree.

The spikes being directly on Jimin's body feel like it was a more direct hit. JK wearing the spikes on the jacket is more of a defensive maybe? Like a by-product. Almost like He was acting as a shield.

The 'shots' weren't directed at him so even if they hit him they would not have pierced the skin. Whereas it was directed at JM and meant to go deep.

It is understandable, The first thing you want to do is protect your partner the best you can.

Or it can represent keeping others away from them. Roses have thorns on them to keep people/living life forms away, after all.

They got kinda deep y'all. Which brings me to the part that blew my mind;

Mud from LC

Mud on JK's trouser;

The pants. I think he is hinting that he helped pull Jimin out of the mud...or at least he was down in the mud with him when he was at his lowest. He was there supporting. Someone catch me cuz I am once again falling into that delulu train headfirst 😭😭😭

He he hee... thats so fucking deep y'all. But seeing as there's no other explanation for why JK would have "dirty" trousers (yet) i'mma go with this assumption for now. #feels 🥺🥺🥺

Like, its not even that far fetched though. When Jimin was going through what he went through JK saw it all first hand. Isn't that why we assumed he kept skipping LC in the beginning? Coz it reminded him of that time and it prolly wasn't pretty. He didn't like to remember Jimin in that bad place.

I for one believe JK was there for Jimin every step of the way. Jimin said members were there for him, I'm sure his family was too and most importantly, so was JK.

Thats why he wrote letter. He said it was his turn to be grateful. His turn to give back.

I know it's obvious

So that it's not taken lightly

Let me tell you this properly

Baby, don't leave, just stay with me, yeah

To you who saw me greater than my little self

So that I can only deliver as much as I received

I can't y'all... help 😭😭😭

.

.

.

Okay but this tweet tickled me 🤭🤭

I know some Jikookers work very hard in trying not to be delulu (not me. I jump in head first, always. Ha haa) and I applaud that. I do. But these are way, way too many similarities. Even the most clear headed Jikooker has got to find this sus.

[etsuven]

rating: fluff cw: none includes: childe, kaeya summary: the month of love has just passed, but i still can't help but wonder what type of kisses fit these genshin men...

note: was this supposed to be a valentines day thing? maybe... but its out now! just a tadddd bit later than originally intended... this was ALSO originally supposed to include venti and kazuha as well as four others but i really need to force myself to post since its been over 30 days and get over this awful writers block please someone tell me HOWWWWW this is awful im so sorry ill try to do better in future posts

Childe: I Miss You Kiss

you're waiting for him at the docks of snezhnaya, your heart pounding in your chest as the sound of the ship horn reached your ears. bouncing on your toes, you rubbed your hands together, trying to preserve some kind of warmth in your already numb hands.

the ship is getting closer, and you can only feel yourself getting more and more worked up as time went on. why were you so excited? you were able to finally see your fiance after weeks of sending letters of love back and forth. it was a coincidence that the ship was coming back right on valentine's day, it wasn't something you were complaining about.

you watched in excitement as the ship docked, a bridge laying out in preparation for its occupants to walk out. and walk out they did, but one seemed to be a bit more eager than the others, his ginger hair standing out from the pale white you had quickly gotten used to.

before you knew it, you were enveloped in his arms, his signature scent reaching your nose and making you inhale sharply. he was finally home... a gloved hand found its way onto your cheek, and you were quickly pulled into a kiss that made you let out a silent sigh. it was a sweet kiss, something that told millions of words without actually saying anything at all.

how are you? how have you been? i've missed you.

though you couldn't say anything right now, you were more than willing to do so later- however many times it took for him to truly understand it. you were going to spend your whole lives together anyways, ten thousand more 'i miss you's' wouldn't be that hard of a thing to achieve.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Kaeya: Tension Kiss

you and kaeya had a strange relationship, something bridging on the gap between friends and lovers. the tension between the two of you wasn't normal, and you've always hoped that behind those teasing words- were actual feelings.

kaeya was a naturally charming man. a fan favorite amongst the citizens of mondstadt, he indulged in the attention, though he never seemed to take it further than a few sweet words. at least, that's how he was with everyone else.

he was different with you... light touches that made your heart flutter in your chest, teasing words that made you retaliate back with words of your own. you weren't the only one who noticed how the (in)famous cavalry captain acted around you. in fact, one of those people was his own brother.

having grew up with the man, diluc wasn't a stranger to changes in his brothers' behavior. under the guise of wanting to keep kaeya from coming from him once more in a drunken rant (that's the reason he used to explain why he was doing what he was doing. it was a lie.) diluc decided to subtly reveal to you how strange he thought kaeya was being.

"he seems to be different around you, but i can't seem to figure out why. perhaps you should ask him." those were the words he told you, and while you did feel that there was some sort of ulterior motive as to why he even mentioned that, you still decided to listen to his advice.

and that brings us to tonight. kaeya was walking you home after a long night at the bar, and his reason as to why he wanted to do this was, "you had a few drinks, it would be improper of me to let you walk home by yourself, no?"

you initiated small talk, the conversation flowing smoothly between the two of you. eventually you made it to your front door, a small sigh leaving your lips once you realized that your time together was almost done. but you still had one more thing to do.

the question left your lips slowly, almost as if you were scared that he would shut you down the second you spoke. perhaps you were scared. you asked if there was a reason as to why he seemed so different with you. kaeya's uncovered eye widened with every word, eventually settling on looking to the side as you finished speaking.

you gave him time to process your words, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest as you closed your eyes. seconds later, you were startled by the feeling of a slightly cool hand on your cheek. peeking an eye open, you watched as kaeya leaned in, a slightly flustered look on his face as he glanced down at your lips.

oh. so that's why he was acting this way.

"may i?" he asked, a slight tremble in his voice. you nodded slowly, taking the initiative and leaning in to kiss him. his lips were soft, and it almost seemed like they were made to perfectly fit yours. you shivered a bit, both because of the cold and because you were a tad bit nervous. but still, you didn't dare pull away.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[sea-owl]

So I just had a cute idea. A Polin love letter au.

So, during one of Colin's travels, he comes to the realization that hey, I'm in love with Penelope. But this realization came after his whole, "I will never court/marry Penelope Featherington!" declaration. Embarrassed by his past actions and unsure how she will react to him all of a sudden declaring his feelings after that Colin comes up with the idea to write her anonymous love letters.

With the letters, Colin hopes Penelope would take him more sincerely, and this way, he can work up telling her that it's him. Or maybe he could wait until the season when he's back in London so he could properly court her? Which would be more romantic? Penelope deserves it after his foolish words.

Either way, Colin pours all his feelings into that first letter. Making sure to describe how he finds her adorable, and witty, and how lucky he would be if she ever looked his way. He gives her a return address so if she may ever want to write back, she may. (Not sure if he goes through one of his siblings for the return address or if he's just banking on Penelope, not knowing where he traveled to or think it was a coincidence)

Colin doesn't get a response after the first letter, nor the second one. But as much as it's eating at him not to hear Penelope's thoughts, he's determined to see this through.

After the third letter, Penelope finally writes a response.

Dear Secret Admirer,

I am not sure what to call you other than what you have called yourself in previous letters. Three times you have written to me already and your words are very kind but if all they are are kind words I must ask you to stop. I have had enough kind words with no actions behind them.

Sincerely,

Penelope Featherington

Colin felt a rock in his stomach. Kind words with no actions behind them, she had to be talking about him and his idiotic mouth. Shit, he has his work cut out for him. Not that it matters, Colin knows he loves Penelope, and he will prove it to her.

Grabbing his quill Colin began to draft his fourth letter.

Dear Penelope Featherington,

Thank you for taking pity on me and taking the time to reply to my letters. Though I am disappointed that you believe I am only writing to you are kind words and nothing more. My words may be kind Penelope, but they are also a promise. A promise that once the season begins again and we are both in London, I shall make myself known to you. Then you may cast judgment upon me as you wish.

Until then, my dear one, all I have are my words. I hope that with this letter, you'll start to believe them to be sincere. I intend to send you at least a hundred more before the next season begins.

Your's, always

Secret Admirer

Happy with his letter, Colin also prepared a gift to be sent with it. In the gift was a set of new quills made from swan, owl, and raven feathers. Colin had more he wanted to send as well, but it was best not to overwhelm Penelope too early. He just needs to send them a few at a time. After they are married he can shower her with as many gifts as he wanted.

Penelope was speechless when she revived her fourth letter and now a gift. Perhaps her secret admirer was more than kind words.

[library-ghoulette]

day 3 // temperature play

Prompt list thanks to @kroas-adtam 💜

Pairing: Copia x reader

Rating: Explicit, minors DNI

Words: 1245

Tags: second person POV, gender-neutral reader, long-distance relationship, swearing in Italian, temperature play, ice, nipple play, oral sex

Summary: A heatwave and broken AC threaten to derail your romantic weekend with Copia, until you come up with a way to cool him down.

A/N: I kept this one vague so that you can imagine whichever era of Copia is your favorite. <3

Read beneath the cut or on ao3!

"It's so fucking hot," Copia moans. But unfortunately, not in a good way.

It was supposed to be a nice, romantic long weekend, and a much-needed one. Long-distance relationships are hard, and there are only so many gaps that good morning texts and filthy Facetime sessions can fill before the longing sets in, for both of you.

So when Copia had cleared time in his schedule to come visit, you were thrilled. He would be all yours for three days. No work distractions, just all of the domestic closeness you crave and so rarely get to enjoy. Sharing home-cooked meals, snuggling on the couch in front of the TV, falling asleep and waking up in his arms. And yes, as much sex as you could possibly fit in.

Too bad this weekend happened to coincide with the worst heatwave your area has experienced all year. Too bad that the air conditioning in your building chose the moment it had to die—right after you left to pick Copia up from the airport, so that by the time the two of you got back, all giddy and handsy and eager to get one another alone for a proper reunion, your whole apartment had been stifling.

Now you're both lying side-by-side on your bed, on top of the fitted sheet, stripped down to your underwear. Even though the sun has long since set, it's still miserably hot, too hot to fuck, too hot to even touch each other, too hot to sleep, too hot to live.

Copia rolls his sweat-drenched face toward you on the pillow. "When did they say they're coming to fix it?"

You had called maintenance as soon as you realized the problem, but they'd said it was too late to send anyone—their crew had already gone home for the evening.

"Tomorrow morning."

"Ugh," he groans. "Porco Dio, I'll have sweated my balls off by then…"

He turns away, swearing under his breath as you stare up at the ceiling fan that stirs the stagnant air but provides little relief. Annoyance flashes through you at his sour mood. After all, you're suffering, too. You might have considered sleeping in the bathtub or on the kitchen floor—probably the coolest surfaces in your apartment—if you hadn't known that it would be absolute murder on your back.

The kitchen… The thought has you reaching over for the glass of ice water on your nightstand, and, finding it empty, you heave yourself out of your damp bed in search of a refill. Along the way, you tip the mostly-melted remains of the last few ice cubes into your mouth, crunching them between your teeth, relishing the chill.

You return to bed, perching on the edge of the mattress with one leg curled beneath you, and take a steadying sip of water. Copia sits up on his elbows to face you, contrite.

"Tesoro, I'm sorry I'm so grouchy. You know how I get. Forgive me?"

You do know. For all his good qualities, your lover tends toward hot-headedness and impatience, at times snappish and downright bitchy when things do not go his way. But he's also quick to apologize, to give you that sincere, puppy-dog look that he's giving you now, the one that has you telling him that it's okay and leaning down to kiss him.

He yips in surprise. "Your mouth is so cold!"

"Sorry."

"No, don't be," he says. "Feels good."

"Oh?"

You set your glass of ice water back on your nightstand, but not before slicking both of your hands with condensation and taking another swallow of water. Then you kiss him again, sliding your chilled tongue against his, bringing your hands up to cradle his face. You run your fingers along his jawline and down his neck, your touch eliciting a shiver.

"Still good?" you ask.

He nods, eyes all heavy-lidded in the aftermath of your kiss. "Very."

"Hmm. Lie down. I have an idea."

You straddle his hips. Your sweaty skin sticks against his and squelches when you lean forward to fish an ice cube from your glass and then settle yourself back down. He rests his hands lightly on top of your thighs and gazes up at you. He's gorgeous like this—his graying hair disheveled and curling damply around his ears, his eyes filled with trust and affection and desire, the corner of his mouth twisted up in a curious little half-smile.

"Close your eyes."

He does, and you begin tracing the ice cube over his overheated skin. Over the back of his left hand and up his forearm, to start. Slowly, so slowly, testing his tolerance for the cold. Tracking his every moan and hissed intake of breath for signs of reluctance.

Finding none, you switch sides to repeat the process on his right arm. Goosebumps wash over his skin in the ice cube's wake, sweeping up over his shoulder and down across his chest. You skim the ice over the tattoo on his pec, using the edge to carefully trace each curve of the Mark of the Beast inked into his skin.

"Fuck," he sighs heavily.

You pull the ice away. "Everything okay?"

His hands tighten their grip on your thighs. "Don't stop."

You return to your work, circling the ice around his right nipple, relishing the whimper that wells up in his throat. Then you lean forward, licking up the trail of water from the melting ice. His skin is salty with perspiration, his nipple pebbled beneath your tongue. When you draw it into your mouth and suck, his hips buck helplessly, driving his growing hardness up against you.

When you rise up to switch to the other nipple, you find him craning up to watch you. His pupils are blown wide, his jaw dropped open in an expression of disbelieving pleasure. You could tell him to close his eyes again, to lie back down, but you let him watch, holding his gaze steadily as you dip down to lick a stripe across his skin. Until it's too much for him to maintain eye contact, and he throws his head back onto the pillow with a groan.

The ice cube is wearing down. It's small enough now to easily pop into your mouth. Hands freed, you shift backward and hook your fingers beneath the waistband of his underwear, dragging the fabric down. His swollen cock pops free from the waistband to smack against his lower belly, and his legs part instinctively, his hips straining up toward you, seeking any contact you might choose to grant him.

You ignore his cock for the moment, keeping the ice in your mouth and pressing your lips to the sensitive spot just below his navel, before moving lower to trail freezing, open-mouthed kisses over the creases between hip and thigh. His moans have taken on the timbre of desperation by the time you sit up, kneeling between his splayed legs with your hands braced against his inner thighs.

You rake your eyes over him, considering the needy mess you've reduced him to with satisfaction. You swirl the last little bit of the ice around your mouth, letting it melt completely as it chills your tongue and the insides of your cheeks.

You quirk a mischievous eyebrow at him. "What was that you said about sweating your balls off?"

He yelps when you bring your cold mouth down to him. The heat is the last thing on his mind now.

[terraliensvent]

nah fuck that. telling me to get my head out of my ass while you need to get yours out as well. deadass youre like fucking dogs that follow around gin and stalk them. you are just as bad as veals doxer. i doubt that veal even was doxed tbh, he probably just did this to make people feel bad for him like he did with the doc

Edit/Disclaimer: this post is out of date. please read this post for more information. the doxxer has now (ironically considering this post in hindsight) been revealed to be Veal themself, however per my rules of keeping everything in place, these posts will remain up for archival purposes, despite the ongoing speculation of the time.

Original Post below: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

post related

where the fuck do i even begin here

how the hell do you say civ is the one being stalked here? what, because we pieced together info from a public post they made and facts that veal told us themself about civ donating to their gofundme? because we traced the vpn the doxxer used?

also, you must be a god damn pre-evolutionary troglodyte to think veal was plotting 5 steps ahead and outing their own deadname, birthdate, and ADDRESS to however many people saw it in the status of their hacked discord, just for attention. if they wanted attention, couldnt they just bitch and complain about online boogeymans like how civ does 24/7?

i would say im astonished you guys are trying to make civ the victim in this one too, but really im not in the slightest. god forbid someone pops the bubble wrap on your precious baby that can do no wrong.

the funniest part of all this is that i outright said in this post "

yeah, but its a very small breadcrumb and we wouldnt wanna do the same thing they did by jumping to civ as the definitive one at play here, there are a lot of people in canada. it is an interesting coincidence though.

sending a bunch of flying monkeys to my inbox isnt really a great look, especially when youre trying to yet again lie for your boo boo bear about things that are so easily disproved (hey, didnt you do that about something else that happened recently?)

go fuck yourself

[langernameohnebedeutung]

I know, I know it might be the algorithm and all but I'm actually disturbed by how much content I see on places like Instagram, reels of couples talking about how your partner is toxic if they're not letting you have access to their phone, don't give you the code to their devices (Clearly they have something to hide!!!!) if they're spending time with (respectively) male/female friends on their own or if they're going out - and I don't think it's a coincidence that the vast majority are explicitly or implicitly about women being 'toxic' if they don't give their boyfriend access to their social media or have male friends or go out on parties or have female friends (!) (because apparently female friends will sabotage the relationship aka tell her that her boyfriend is a controlling manipulative knob). One woman bragged about how her boyfriend sends her photos and locations every several minutes on vacation to show her that he's just with the boys and that this is beautiful and normal and 'see, your relationship can be this healthy, too! Don't take less!' <3<3<3<3<3<3 Yesterday I saw a guy talking about how if he pays more for stuff like rent or food or sth, he has a right that his girlfriend delete her social media presence entirely.

it's 'they read my message at 10:15 am and haven't responded!!!!!'/'they were online on social media A but didn't respond to me on social media B!!!'/'they received so-and-so many snaps!!!' culture meeting toxic relationship meeting heteronormative stereotypes and relationship models meeting using therapy language for manipulation meeting 'men and women cannot be friends' meeting you have to be online and available 24/7 meeting parental child-tracking devices NOW FOR ADULTS meeting abusive partners hiding AirTags in your car (but now guilt-tripping you into taking them with you) meeting women are a passive resource that is accessible to any man talking to her for long enough.

It's basically turning relationships into a dystopia of their own where you can track your s/o like a fuckin Tamagotchi (and if they don't let you, they are the evil wrongdoers who are hurting you!). You cannot escape work anymore, you grow up controlled by your family, you're under constant supervision of whatever loser tiktoker happens to walk by you - and now even your relationship is being turned into a hyper-controlled space. Not to be dramatic, but that's another space - the most private and most intimate space for most people's lives - that is no longer private or personal and no longer in their hands.

And I think most of us adults are still analogue enough to see how toxic it is (except abusers will definitely see how useful it is to tell their SO that this is normal) - but you also have kids growing up and bombarded with this content telling them that this is normal and healthy and that they have a right to track their partner like they purchased GirlFriend Premium PlusPlusPlus and are now owed (and it's so healthy and normal and good!) access to their partner 24/7.

And there is also the simply matter of what it does to relationships if the demon of 'cheating' is constantly, constantly, constantly in the room without reason. It's pushing a culture where you treat your partner like they've already cheated - for no reason. Where the default of your relationship is treating your partner like that. Which is something that hurts you and hurts them. This is like becoming randomly obsessed with the idea that your partner might be stealing money from your purse or has a second family hidden away somewhere. It's basically setting yourself up to look for something that doesn't match up or feeling betrayed if your partner simply...wants a moment of privacy. Privacy and some alone-time is a very central human need. One that in our current time is losing a lot of ground which means that most of our secrecy is now happening in our private lives (someone made a post on here about how young people e.g. are more likely to shut their curtains and stuff). But if you now hivemind the kids into the belief that every person is per default a cheater and under constant obligation to prove otherwise (guilty unless proving innocent at all times), that's another piece of privacy disappearing and it's putting a giant strain on your relationship - basically setting it up to fail and do you both a lot of mental damage.

[retrobr]

First of all, please don't feel forced to post this ask. I'm sending it mainly for you. You can keep it in your inbox, delete it, or reply. The important thing is that you read the message.

Don't get attached to what other people think of you. Social life is often fake. If you get too attached to what people behind a screen think (which, actually, is not exactly like that, as you only know what they tell you, without knowing exactly what they think), you'll end up forgetting what YOU want. Do things for YOU. It doesn't matter what other people think. It's not the number of notes that makes your art worthwhile. Detach yourself from the numbers. You must draw/write according to YOUR will. Don't try to please others, because that gets you nowhere. Many fabulous artists post their art on Tumblr and receive barely a dozen notes (sometimes not even that). And you think that's what keeps them from posting? Not at all! And the proof is that I'm one of them. I draw what I like and share what I like too. If others like it, so much the better. If they don't, too bad. I like it. Art, drawing, writing is something that, above all, must please and give pleasure to the author. It shouldn't be about begging for attention. Art is worth much more than that. Your art is superb. It saddens me, though, that you draw what gets you more notes (i.e. what's most popular). I see very few drawings of your OCs. Is that because you're afraid it won't be popular? If so, please FORGET the popularity of your drawings. After all, do you draw for yourself or for others?

Sincerely,

One of your mutuals who doesn't interact much with you, but who'd like to see you drawing for yourself, and not for others.

I won't be able to answer this briefly, so, well, some people may read this and some may not.

It's not about notes under my posts, popularity, or art in general; it's mostly about me and my feelings.

I have to admit: yes, I used to draw mostly for recognition, for the number of notes under my posts; I somehow didn’t care whether I liked my drawings or not. But in all this killing of time there was one small reason that I didn't want to admit until the very end: I did it so as not to feel lonely. I wanted to feel that someone needed my art and someone needed me.

Nowadays I draw purely (almost) for myself, because I like it. I started putting more time and effort into my drawings because I want them to please my eyes. For the most part, I don’t care that much what people think about my art. People like it? Cool, I'm flattered, soon I'll show you a new drawing. People don't like it? Well, I can't help it, it's your choice. But that’s not the point, the reason that I mentioned earlier still remains, and it probably won’t disappear anytime soon.

This is a pretty harsh admission, but I've been lonely for over a year. No friends, no buddies, no one with whom I could share my mood or ask how they were doing, at all. And I really mean it, I had no one at all to talk to. And yes, this worries me very much.

And in the past, I wanted to attract people's attention with my artworks because I hoped that people would pay attention to me and want to be friends with me. And even now I partly do this, although recently I began to try to take decisive actions to try to make friends with someone. I messaged people, tried to find people with whom my interests could coincide, and tried to maintain communication beyond one dialogue.

Unfortunately, I'm very tired of doing this. I'm tired of taking initiative, tired of waiting for someone to text me first and ask how I'm doing. I realized that if I stopped messaging someone first, almost no one would care about me; this means that I constantly have to do something so that people will care about me, but, as I said, I'm really tired of trying to do something.

And yes, I'm jealous of people who didn't put in too much effort but were able to make a lot of friends. Unfortunately, I can't do that (perhaps there is some problem in me that I simply don't notice; perhaps I'm too obsessive and strange, pathetic and always complaining about life, and I don't deny it). Every time I see this, I quietly think: "wow, dude, so many people care about you, that's really cool I guess."

And this once again makes me convinced that in terms of finding friends and acquaintances, I'm almost a complete fool. Even though I try to do it, the results are too small; my efforts to make friends are mostly in vain, and most of the people only expect art content from me.

After my short break from social media, I happened to notice that people don’t really care that much about my absence, about me as a person. Yes, there are people who care about my condition and my absence online, but there are very few of them. This makes me feel very lonely and even.. helpless, let's say?

All this has been building up in me for a year, and recently I had a not-so-best episode in my emotional state. Like I said, I'm tired of putting in the effort and going out of my way to find friends and keep in touch because a lot of people just don't need it. I don't know where to put myself and what to do with all this emotional garbage.

In the end, I want to say that I felt quite... calm during my break from social media, and it got me thinking: do I even need all this? Do I need to keep drawing and interacting with people if they don't care?..

But nevertheless, thank you anon mutual for your concern about my condition. You are one of the few who showed concern for me and I'm very grateful for it. And also thanks to all those people who supported me in this difficult moment, you have no idea how important you are to me.

I don't know if anyone read this to the very end (thank you if you read this, it's very important to me), but I had to speak up and clarify my situation. I don't know what to do next; maybe I need to think some more, or even leave social media in general (because, once again, who cares?..)

I don't care if all this shit sounds sentimental and stupid or anything like that; I'm a person, not a soulless drawing machine, and I have feelings too.