#it knows its worth and would find one who is proud to have such an odd little monster

[theinfernalcalypso]

I'm digging my yearly grave to rot in early

Because how fucking dare you

You sweep back in on your promises after hurting me once

Only to disappear when they're due

To disappear after I gracefully gave you another fucking chance

I hope you're fucking proud of yourself

Because your name now belongs on a list

The list of people I'd sooner leave in the ashes

Than give them yet another fucking opportunity to strike me when I'm down

[cvnntagious]

die for me

☆ fuckboy!matt sturniolo blurb for anon...

Not that you cared, but Matt had been M.I.A for over a week now. He hadn't been in class, hadn't texted you, and you hadn't seen him in his usual hangout spots around campus. Not that you'd bothered to check.

Well, okay, you shouldn't have checked — But you did. Not because you cared. I mean, he didn't care, so why would you? You'd been looking for him because, for some reason, your professor had decided to hand over his work to you. It didn't seem like he knew where Matt had gone either.

You didn't really understand what this had to do with you. The professor had just told you to give it to Matt whenever you got the chance. What, did he think you and Matt were something? Because you're not. That's not what Matt wanted, and neither did you.

But as your grades began to slip, it was clear Matt was on your mind. For no reason, really. Like, you didn't like him or anything. Seriously, you didn't like him. Usually, with the help of Matt, you would've been able to de-stress by now. Even touching yourself was no good. His help had been keeping you steady for the semester, and without it, you were nothing academically. At least that's what you told yourself.

Today 10:22 PM : ' Hey sorry. Been a minute. '

That's what you saw pop up on your phone as you tried to focus on studying for the upcoming quiz. You knew who it was before you even read the contact at the top of the notification — that unreadable way of texting, topped with an annoying amount of periods, just like always. He said it'd been a minute, but it had only seemed like seconds since you last talked at that moment. You were already annoyed.

Texting back seemed like no use, brushing it off with a sigh that exuded not only irritation, but a hint of relief as well. At least now you knew he hadn't gotten himself into some shit. Not that getting into shit was much like him, it was more his brother's thing. But still, he tended to stick his nose where it didn't belong when it came to any problems Chris got into.

Today 10:25 PM : ' Come slide. Dorm's P17. '

You tried to ignore it, but the numbers caught your attention. Could he really want you this bad? Usually he'd come to your dorm, or on some rare occasions you'd meet him at Chris' frat. Never once had he bothered to give you his dorm number. This felt new, possibly refreshing. He'd always told you where he stayed wasn't necessary information— basically the nice way of saying he didn't take you seriously, nor trust you enough.

Though tempting, your better judgement told you not to give in so easily. As you held down the power button and slid the icon to power off before flipping your phone face down, you felt a certain sense of empowerment, proud of yourself for deciding it wasn't worth it. So why did you find yourself waiting for him to answer the door, fidgeting nervously as you looked at the short brown carpet of the dormitory hallway?

"Didn't even get a warning," You heard his voice as the door opened in front of you, causing you to look up at him.

With an embarrassed chuckle, you lifted your hand to show him the black screen of your phone. "It died," You lied, eyelashes fluttering as your eyes met his blue ones.

You watched his small smile as his tongue ran over his white teeth to hide it, invisalign making them chunky and, in some strange way, admirable. Then, he stepped aside, giving you room to walk into his doorway. "S'late, I know, but I just- like I said, its been a while," Matt began explaining as you walked into his dorm, leaning on the doorframe as his head followed you.

You turned to look at him after having taken in his dorm, rather unimpressed by the lack of personality. "Yeah, about that, actually— Where y'been?" You asked curiously, as he shut and locked the door behind him.

Matt only shrugged, suppressing a smirk as he took a step forward to let his hands travel down your waist. "Lot'a stuff," He replied simply, head cocking slightly to one side. Of course he wasn't going to tell you - he never told you anything. "S'a lot to handle, y'know," He then added, eyes darkening as they held contact with yours.

Your brows furrowed at his words, a bit confused. If he didn't want to tell you why he was gone straight up, you'd prefer if he didn't start hinting at stuff. "What is?" You breathed out, hands moving to rest on his forearms as you unknowingly caught his bait.

"Not being able to see you every day; To touch you every day." He said that as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, his head dipping to place open mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin of your neck. "To call you mine," He then whispered. You knew it were dumb to think he meant that, but for some reason, those four words made you want to give yourself to him completely.

Matt smiled for the first time since you'd walked in when you pulled back to admire his face, letting out a small hum when you leaned back into him to press your lips against his. Just like that, he walked you backwards towards his bed, hands slipping under your shirt to caress the soft skin of your stomach. The coldness of his silver rings caused you to hiss into the kiss, too distracted by the sensation to notice him turning you so that he was now with his back to his bed.

As he sat down on his bed, he pulled you down to straddle him, hands holding your waist. You looked down at his glossy blue eyes as your hands reached up to knock his hat off of his head, fingers threading through his brunette curls. "What d'you want, Matt?" You finally asked, one hand coming down to allow your finger to caress the underside of his chin as he looked up at you.

His hands traveled up your figure, lifting your shirt as he did so. He allowed his hands to rest on your boobs, kneeding them as he chuckled ever so quietly. "To not have to do the work this time," He answered in a teasing tone, eyes flickering down to look at where his hands worked.

Though reluctant, you lifted yourself off of his lap to hoover over it. Using one hand to stabilize yourself on his shoulder, your free hand made its way down to his belt buckle as he watched your every move intently, "Don't look so happy," You mused when your eyes had glanced up to see the excitement in his.

"You know I love this shit," He quipped as you pulled his belt through the loops, lifting himself just enough for you to pull his pants down to his thighs. You only had so long to admire all you could see through his boxers before you felt Matt tugging on your pants, pleading without words for you to take them off.

Again, you lifted yourself off of him, this time allowing him to unbutton your pants and shimmy them down your legs until they were discarded somewhere beside his bed. As he fiddled with your pants, your hand began palming him through his boxers, length already riled up from not being touched much longer than he was used to. He groaned as his eyes remained locked on yours, a wet patch turning a spot of his boxers a darker shade of gray.

After a bit of teasing, you decided it was time to finally get your eyes on the prize—his prize. Pulling it out of his boxers, you ran your hand along his shaft to feel it rock hard already. "So big," You muttered, eyes glued to it.

Matt couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips at your words, expression smug as it could be. "This's new news?" He asked playfully, a stark contrast to his usual cold behaviors. It was like he really came out of his shell when he was aroused, and you were ready to put him right back in it.

With a squeeze of his dick that caused him to grunt, you pulled your panties to the side and lined him up with your entrance. Matt looked enthralled as he watched you do your work like this were routine, hands leaving your hips to rest behind him, leaning back to tilt his head back when you sunk down onto him without warning.

His hair was messy, and he could feel he was ready to sweat with your gummy walls around him. Lips pursing together, he hummed as you began to slowly grind into him, letting you do the work, just like he said he wanted.

It wasn't long before you began bouncing on him, hands on his shoulders for stability as you let out choked moans, as if his cock were suffocating you. The quick pace had your thighs burning, struggling to keep up with it, and yet, Matt simply watched in enjoyment. It wasn't often he allowed himself to freely make noise, but you could tell he was really enjoying this, with the way he had let out more groans and pants than usual.

Seemingly out of nowhere, his hands dartted out to grip the flesh of your hips as you continued your motions. You could've swore you heard a whimper when his head dropped forward to lean on the front of your shoulder. "Fu–ck this," He drawled out to you, hips begining to meet yours as he chase his high.

This simple, not so innocent gesture only served to fuel you, completely forgetting about the burning sensation. Your bounces got bigger, lifting yourself all the way to his tip before dropping back onto him with shreik-like moans. Matt was loving this, pants and groans now following each motion on his painfully ready cock.

"K- keep goin' f'me, baby, m'gettin close," He rasped, forcing himself to lift his head from your shoulder so he could look in your eyes while he came.

You nodded, bouncing mixing with grinding as you tried to tell him you were close too. It was too late. You let out a loud moan as you snapped on top of him, Matt following suit at the feeling of your sticky liquid releasing all over his dick. Your movements slowed to ride out your guys' orgasms before eventually coming to a halt, both of you panting with each other.

"Le's, uh— We'll do that more often, yeah?"

○

"come on over, baby, can you slide for me? yeah / you know how i love it when you ride on me." -chase atlantic

w/c : 1.8k a/n : if you've sent in any anons, i promise i'm getting to them. it's taking me a while cs i take forever to write and now i'm super busy so please bare w me, these anons have been building up for months now...

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

[suntoru]

─ ✰ HEARTBREAK ANNIVERSARY.

─ SYNOPSIS: rin misses you. he wonders if breaking up with you was really worth it.

─ WARNINGS: 1.2k words!! angst, regret, pining, exes, perhaps ooc rin, probably bland but!! it’s here

─ AUTHOR’S NOTE: RIN GIRLIES HERE IS UR MAN <3

— rin’s eyes anxiously dart around, scanning for your face somewhere in the stands, an unconscious habit he hasn’t been able to drop. the roar of thousands of fans cheering him on, yet strangely, the absence of satisfaction lingers within him.

it’s weird, even he knows it, that he still hopes his ex comes to his soccer matches. he’s fully aware that you are unlikely to be present, but even so, a lingering sliver of hope refuses to fade. and it’s strange, because he was the one who broke up with you to pursue his career, he was the one who broke your heart, he was the one who'd made you cry... so why does his heart feel so damn empty when you aren’t there to watch him soar?

fuck. this isn’t the time to be thinking about this. so with an annoyed huff, he pushes his feelings aside, and plays ball.

as the final whistle blows, everybody in the stadium erupts into cheers, confetti cascading down to honor the exceptional achievement. japan won nationals, rin scoring the winning goal by himself, marking tokyo's historic first-ever victory. his eyes widen with disbelief, puffing from the exertion of the intense match. the weight of the moment settles on his shoulders, and he couldn't help but look up, expecting to see the familiar sight of your proud face in the crowd, your pretty eyes catching onto his— oh. that’s right. you won’t be there anymore.

his smile falls the slightest bit. the sensation of pride and joy seems to snap almost instantly, and he doesn’t know why. this… this was his goal, his dream. the thing he wanted most in the world, in the palm of his hand. and really, he should be more happy, but he can’t seem to shake off the sinking feeling in his stomach.

his radiant smile begins to falter, a subtle shift in the atmosphere as the waves of pride and joy that had enveloped him seemed to snap abruptly. this achievement, this culmination of his dreams and aspirations, now lays within his grasp. one would expect satisfaction and happiness to course through his veins, yet an inexplicable unease settled in the pit of his stomach, casting a shadow over the moment. ignoring all his teammates’ cheers and screams, he speeds towards the locker room to get changed and go home.

his house really isn’t any better. (he questions if it’s really ‘home’ without you.) the concept of "home" now feels strangely foreign, a place that should be comforting but is instead tinged with an undeniable sense of absence. it's as if the essence of warmth has been drained away.

the once-inviting space lacks the comforting sprawl of your giant stuffed animals overtaking the bed or the mountains of your clothes taking over the closet. a peculiar emptiness lingers, a void that cannot be filled by mere physical belongings. the silence within the familiar walls is unsettling.

rin finds it quite odd not feeling your arms wrap around his torso, giving him a peck as you asked about his day. it’s strangely… quiet as well. there’s no you singing along to some laufey song completely out of tune, no alarm going off because you burnt the takoyaki, or the constant hum of the tv playing in the background. it's a quietude that, rather than offering solace, only accentuates the hollowness of the space. he’s not so sure he likes it.

he stares at the shiny, gold metal he had received. his mind, despite receiving a sparkly, golden-hued award— an emblem of achievement— stubbornly fixates his thoughts of you. he finds himself gazing at the metallic surface, a token of success that pales in comparison to the vibrant memories of your presence. he recalls your playful curiosity, imagining how you would have marveled at the gold medal, playfully testing its authenticity with an endearing chomp. he misses it. he misses you.

and he wonders what you might've changed his contact to. stupid ex, maybe? loser bitch? he deserves it. but he can't help but wonder, is there a possibility he'd still be 'rinnie', or 'my love' with a heart that never made sense because it looked more like a cheeky smile to him? (he wishes he had treasured you just a little bit more.) is he blocked? or is he just another number in your phone now? do you reread the messages he sent to you?

because he does. your contact name is still ‘loml’. he has every single photo you sent saved. he stares at the old "i love you" texts night after night after night. it's pathetic, really, but his heart aches for those moments when you'd scold him for overexerting himself, when you'd sleepily wake up at two am just to make him a hot meal when he came back late, when you'd stick those tacky hello kitty bandaids on top of the scrapes he got from soccer. he misses your good luck kisses, the ones where you'd pull his face down to your height and let out a big dramatic 'mwah!' in front of all his teammates— where he'd grumble and complain but his cheeks were undeniably a bright rosy red.

but above all, the vivid memory etched in his mind is the pain he inflicted upon you. your voice trembling, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you desperately clung to his arm, seeking an explanation. "what do you mean, rin? i don't understand. did i do something wrong?" your words quivered, on the verge of shattering, yet he callously shrugged you off, meeting your tear-filled eyes with a chilling glare.

"you're just a distraction. sorry, but soccer's more important to me."

he recalls the way your hand slowly fell away, the slow nod of comprehension, and the sight of your trembling bottom lip as you fought valiantly not to crumble. he was stupid. so, so stupid. he wishes he had pulled you into the shelter of his arms, confessed his foolishness, and reassured you that he didn't mean those hurtful words. or better yet, he wishes he didn’t say them at all. and he wants to ask, have you moved on? do you find your heart fluttering for somebody else, threatening to beat out of your chest like you once made him feel?

to be loved is to be seen. you saw him beyond the carefully constructed mask, piercing through the layers of the egoist the world molded him to be. in your gaze, he wasn't just the world's best striker or sae's little brother; he was itoshi rin. and that was enough for you.

oh, how utterly foolish he was to let you go. are you still as pretty as ever? (of course you are. you’ve never not looked absolutely stunning to him.) do you still smile as brightly as you once shone, his precious shooting star? he hopes you still find a reason to break into a grin every day.

but the question that is constantly on his mind like a broken record player. if he were to grovel and beg, surrendering his pride on his hands and knees, would you accept him back?

for a moment, he considers it. calling you. his finger hovers tentatively over the ‘audio’ call button, mere millimeters away from hearing you again. rin so desperately wishes to hear your sweet voice, see your angelic face, to be able to bask in your presence once more. would you be shocked? happy shocked, or enraged shocked, or maybe you wouldn’t pick up at all. would he go to voicemail? if he left one, would you listen? do you miss him as much as he has missed you all this time? (it’s been a month, but to him it felt like years.) yet, as the gravity of his past actions weighs heavily in his heart, an inexplicable hesitation ensnares him. you… don’t deserve this. you’re healing right now, he’s already chosen himself once, it would be utterly selfish to do it again. with a heavy exhale, he gingerly sets down his phone, fixing his gaze upon the ceiling above.

and suddenly, soccer doesn't feel like his passion after all. he wonders if it was really you.

his bed feels a little bit too cold now.

© KAEFFEINEE 2022-2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[sleepiexx]

Something He’d Overheard

James Potter x fem!Reader

Note: I’ve been in the marauders fandom for over 7 years now, I think it’s high time I write a fic for it. Part of my efforts to branch out into writing for more fandoms than COD.

Summary: James finds himself head over heels when he sees you defending a first year student.

Warnings: some curse words here and there, bullying mention, overall rlly soft

Word Count: 1151

After countless fictional characters and random strangers on the street with pretty faces catching his burning ire, anyone who knew James Potter knew good and well that he was a lover. He had long believed in love at first sight, merely seeing someone eye-catching often sparked thoughts of budding romance, fantasies of how they would love and what their relationship would look like amongst other things. Soulmates and fate were a big concept to him too, for example his favorite book character, a headstrong witch who was kind and brilliant, well James had a hunch that in another life they were lovers.

He’d fallen in love just about a million times, and yet something about you was different.

You had caught James’ eye one day as he made the trek to the library to collect his good friend Remus for their group’s usual night’s worth of mischief. Your beautiful eyebrows were pinched together in anger, a sneer on your pretty lips, your voice was loud and firm as you scolded one of the usual culprits (a death eater in the making) for bullying a defenseless first year student.

Your hand clutched your wand intently as you damn near hissed the words, “you wanna try picking on someone who can actually fight back?”

They let out a scoff and left the scene, leaving you, the first year, and unbeknownst to you, James.

The switch between standoffishness and caring came like whiplash. Your tensed frame relaxed as you knelt down in front of the first year (those eleven year olds seemed to be growing shorter and shorter every year). Your dominant hand reached out and gently wiped away the younger child’s tears.

“Everything he said is bullshit,” you began, “he’s angry at the world, looking for someplace to fit in, and unfortunately it’s really easy to fall into the wrong crowd. You haven’t, and he’s jealous of that.”

The kid sniffled, pout still indented firmly on their little lips, “who would be jealous of me?”

You shook your head in disbelief, “plenty of people! You have a gift that a large part of the world’s population doesn’t possess, that’s something to be proud of no matter what other witches and wizards try to tell you. Heck, I’m even jealous of you.”

As you spoke a smile crept its way on the first year’s face, “you are?” They asked.

“Yeah, I am!” You nodded, “you’ve got six and a half more years left at Hogwarts to have fun and run about the castle, I only have another year and a half.”

“This place is pretty cool,” they muttered.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Your face lit up and you stood to your feet, offering the small child your hand so you could walk them back to their common room. You’d never seen the awe-stricken onlooker, but the scene was now burned into James’ mind.

It followed him to the library, where he convinced Remus to follow him to their other friends, a long walk that Remus spent listening to James drone on and on about you. It followed him to his dorm that night, and every other night for weeks leaving the marauders to know every single detail about you. And it most especially followed him to each of the classes you had together where James would stare at you and admire your appearance while daydreaming about you.

It was the third time that week that the scene had followed him to the lunch table when Sirius slammed his palms on the table, “I’m putting an end to this nonsense right now. You either talk to her, Prongs, or I will. And trust me, you won’t like how in depth I will go about those daydreams you’ve been having where-“

Sirius couldn’t even finish his sentence with how fast James jumped in, “alright, alright! I have potions with her next, I’ll talk to her, I swear.”

The statement leaves the marauders satiated in conversation as they finish up their lunch and head to their classes.

In potions, James nearly decides to abandon ship, facing a new anxiety he’d never experienced before when dealing with a girl. He decides that maybe it would be best to keep to himself, too afraid to stumble on his words and make a fool of himself in front of such a pretty girl. All this is until Professor Slughorn proclaims that today’s assignment requires a partner. If there ever was a time to shoot his shot, it’s now.

He takes deep breaths, adjusting his posture and forcing his every step to radiate confidence before he reaches you, “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to be my partner?”

You smile, “I’d love to! Fair warning, though, I’m not the best at potions.”

James bursts out into a giddy grin, “I’m willing to pick up the slack.”

“Unfortunately, I bet I’ll make you eat your words,” nonetheless you collect the ingredients as James collects the supplies.

When everything is together, James reads off the instructions. You follow them with great care, not wanting to make a fool of yourself in front of your new, devilishly handsome potions partner.

You make to slice open one of the ingredients, as the instructions called for, but your knife slips, sending the damned thing hurdling straight towards your face. You close your eyes, bracing yourself for an impact that never comes, reopening them only to be met with the sight of the back of James’ hand.

“Holy shit,” you curse, “did you just catch that?”

James nods, almost surprised at himself.

You shake your head in disbelief, “if you weren’t such a good chaser, I’d suggest you take up seeking.”

Your statement renews James’ confidence, so you’d noticed him too?

“Can I show you how to cut it?” He asks, a smile on his face.

You nod, watching his hands intently, confused when he disappears behind you. You quickly piece together what’s happening when he grabs your hands with his own, handing you the knife and positioning you so that you slice through the ingredient like it’s nothing.

“Great job!” James praises, even though it was him that had done all the work.

You still take the compliment, grinning from ear to ear as he tosses the final ingredient into the potion, creating the rich purple color you were striving for, “we make a really good team, Potter.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, “well what do you say we see if we make as good of a couple?” You feel blood rush to your cheeks, James further clarifies “Hogsmeade this weekend? Just you and me?”

And you nod eagerly, “I would love that.”

If Sirius thought James asking you out would be the solution to him raving on and on about you all hours of the day, he was sorely mistaken and he was about to figure that out as soon as James stepped into the common room.

[iatemitomt0day]

Do you have any idea what your version of Y/N cookie would be as an ancient? (I LOVE YOUR ART BTW!!! ITS SO EDIBLE /pos)

Meet ANCIENT! Y/N cookie! The sixth hero! And is the strongest of the group! And the only one who escaped.

They do not have their own kingdom since they preferred to explore more than having their own land.

Their soul-jam is the light of balance. It's appearance is a Yin-yang symbol. It is 2 separate soul-jam stuck together, making them one full piece. Each halves have its own equal amount of power and strength, if lose one of them, Y/N loses half of their powers and strength. They have both Light and Dark powers.

Being the balance cookie, they aren't fully on anyone's side as they see everyone as an equal. They knew Dark Enchantress cookie's goal, and all others dark cookies that follow her, but they don't judge any of them. There's a reason they have that goal. But, they will fight for the right in their eyes, is to finally stop Dark Enchantress once and forever.

They knew exactly who Dark Enchantress cookie truly is, but they refuse to tell anyone. They want those who wish to knew Dark Enchantress cookie true identity, to find it themselves.

They do not have a BEAST counterpart. Their soul-jam was created and kept a secret for a long time, until a cookie finally prove themself to achieve it, and it's Y/N.

Their weapon, the scythe. The dark scythe blade held the power of darkness, the white scythe blade held the power of light. Both of them are equal.

And, they are a huge inspiration of a certain cookie!

It is, Licorice Cookie!

Licorice Cookie sees Y/N cookie as an awesome and fair cookie. So, they're his favorite ancient until this day!

His scythe is inspired off of theirs, it only has one blade was because he couldn't make the other one.

Despite being in the darkness' side, Y/N cookie is proud of him.

ANCIENT COOKIES THOUGHTS ON THEM:

PURE VANILLA COOKIE: "I say, they are a great cookie. They know what's wrong and right anytime. I truly believe they deserve their soul-jam!"

HOLLYBERRY CCOKIE: "Haha! Oh that cookie? They are a very delightful cookie! I'm quite sad that they don't have a kingdom of their own. But, I'm glad we both like exploring!"

DARK CACAO COOKIE: "they are a cookie that believes in balance, like I do. I fully trust them. I believe they would never betray anyone."

GOLDEN CHEESE COOKIE: "Y/N cookie? Oh haha! A wonderful cookie I must say! They are worth more than every gold and glitters I have! I'm truly glad they're here with me!"

WHITE LILY COOKIE: "Them? Oh, I truly think they are an excellent cookie. They are perfect in every way! I'm quite suprise a cookie like them exist! They have almost little to no flaws at all!"

[metanarrates]

there are a LOT of things you can speculate about regarding what twsa was actually like as a novel but what's most interesting to me is that you can make the argument that twsa was an "unpolished" version of what orv is. it's a version of a similar novel that likely dealt with a lot of similar themes but was seemingly bogged down by poor structure, pacing, expository handling, and focus. (all of which are things that orv is shockingly excellent at.)

and of course, han sooyoung's novel, sssss-grade infinite regressor, is the "polished" version of the idea. it's well-written, probably well-plotted, and was successful enough to make han sooyoung rich and famous. we don't know what sssss-grade infinite regressor is like as a novel either, but we sort of get the impression that it's not very emotionally rich even if it is good on a technical level. han sooyoung herself doesn't seem intensely attached to it despite being proud of her work, and kim dokja of course doesn't hold it in high regard. (though of course he's a gigantic unreliable narrator and also a hater.)

what's interesting is that despite orv very strongly emphasizing the ways these works are flawed from the outset, orv itself functions as an argument in these works' favor. both twsa and infinite regressor are stand-ins for the "mass-produced" genre of webnovels. they are popular fiction, relying on a very familiar pool of tropes and clichés in order to deliver on a relatively predictable story to appeal to a wide audience. it's not a coincidence that they are so similar - both literally and in a meta sense, they are drawing on the same exact story-building and genre material. twsa is just the unsuccessful version, and infinite regressor is the successful one.

orv is what I would consider the most "impressive" version of the genre. it's well-structured, thrillingly plotted, interestingly written, has fascinating ideas and characters, and is even "literary" - that is, it has deeply considered themes and is often drawing from the realm of literary, postmodern fiction in order to express its ideas. a less sincere story would disavow itself from its pop-fiction origins and claim to be the best version of its genre. nothing else could be like it, so the worst versions of its genre wouldn't be worth considering.

but orv, while technically functioning as an argument that the genre can be "good" simply because it's a great novel that is deeply rooted in its genre, goes much further. it argues in-text that any sort of story, even those that are bad on a technical level or those that were somewhat cynically produced for a mass audience, are worth finding value in, simply because stories have meaning to their readers. the most uncritical reproduction of a genre's conventions can still mean something to someone who likes it. twsa, if it existed in our reality, would still probably be considered a very bad novel, but it wouldn't need to be polished up and turned into infinite regressor or orv in order to have value. orv itself is telling you that you should find value in twsa as it is, and by extension, every badly-done work of fiction that twsa could be a stand-in for!

[milswrites]

Hobbies Part 8.

~Azriel X Reader~

Summary: In an attempt to keep Azriel away from Elain, Rhys sends him on a sabbatical to the Day Court. With a lot more free time on his hands Azriel needs to find something to keep him occupied. Unfortunately he meets Y/N who has the annoying habit of not staying away. Can she teach him that there’s more to life than he thought?

Grumpy!Azriel X Sunshine!Reader

Series masterlist

Warnings: you know the drill - angst

Sometimes one of the hardest things to do when you’ve been hurt is to carry on living.

Y/N was no stranger to sadness. Growing up an orphan is difficult enough as it is, growing up a female orphan means your life is destined to fail.

But Y/N had always had a different outlook on life. She had always been an optimist. Positive that she would break the cycle and forge a place for herself in the world, even if she had been born into an unforgiving one.

And she had. Her ability to charm and influence people with her warming smile and kind nature had enabled her to climb her way up and into society. She worked well enough to have had her gentle disposition noticed by Helion who was more than willing to welcome her into his court.

Y/N had built herself a great life, one worth being proud of, yet now she found it crumbling around her. It’s hard to imagine that one person who had been in her life for such a short amount of time could change the trajectory of it forever. But Azriel had.

Y/N was simply the fool for allowing it to happen, knowing that he would eventually one day have to leave and return to his own life. Which he was more than happy to do without so much as a goodbye, not even leaving behind a damn letter.

Y/N had found that the well from which her tears flowed from had run dry. She refused to allow herself to mourn what could have been. If he hadn’t have been gracious enough to bid her the goodbye she deserved then he clearly wasn’t the man she thought he was. She would not allow herself to waste away over a man who had no interest in her.

So Y/N did what she knew best, survived. Once she had escaped from the meeting with Helion she had retreated home, overwhelmed by her emotions as sobs wracked her body. The tears from the shock of the shadowsinger’s unexpected departure eventually subsided and with swollen eyes she began to pack for her next job.

The easy option would have been to beg Helion for some time off work while she recovered from the shock of the events that had unfolded. But her broken heart willed her to move and take action. To leave to the rural villages that Helion had said required the attention of the Court. A break would be good for her, an opportunity to clear her mind and do what she was good at. Making people happy. Even if she wasn’t feeling it herself.

With no time to waste, Y/N packed her bags for the long trip, eager to leave when dawn made its appearance. She could at least be thankful for her lack of sleep the night before which was now taking its toll on her body, allowing her to drift off into a fitful sleep rather than mercilessly letting her stay awake with her thoughts. Her dreams, a cacophony of wings and shadows.

When morning finally arrived she was gone. Leaving her emotions and problems behind as she slipped on the smile she had become so accustomed to wearing.

~~~~~

Azriel had woken in his bed. Cassian must have brought him here last night, his last memory of the previous day had been his brother hugging him in Elain’s garden.

The knowledge that Y/N was gone weighed heavy on his chest, but what hurt more were the words of her neighbour who had recalled the state Y/N had been in. The state she was in because of Azriel who had failed to be there for her. Who had left her waiting.

He knew he had failed her. Azriel could try blame Rhysand for whisking him away all he liked, but the truth was that he should have returned to the Day Court as soon as his brother had winnowed him away. He had been too late to react.

Azriel was a coward. He had dedicated most of his life to a woman he would never have and then spent the past few months pining after another that he wasn’t allowed to have. And yet when the most perfect being alive had crashed into his life with no strings or rules attached, just an instant overwhelming attraction between them, he had blown it.

He had done what he had sworn not to do and torn away Y/N’s cauldron-blessed smile and led only pain in its wake.

Upon being home at last, Azriel discovered that his life here was awfully dull. Had it always been this way? The same monotonous routine day in and day out. Train, work, eat, sleep and repeat. He longed for something to do to fill his time and someone to enjoy it with. There being only one person who he wished could fill the void that had grown in the days since he had returned to the Night Court. The one person who he had no idea where in Pythian they were.

In a desperate attempt to find Y/N, Azriel spent most of his time eagerly waiting for his shadows return. His shadows which he had sent to scour the Day Court for Y/N. He wasn’t sure whether it was their inability to find her, or some disgust at what their master had done to her, but every night they returned with no news of Y/N or her whereabouts.

So Azriel continued living. A stranger in his own body as he continued to live the life he once had, not the one that he was allowed a taste of before it was ripped away from him.

He attempted to keep himself busy, to find something in this Court that brought him the joy he had felt in the past few weeks with Y/N. The rest of the inner circle were stunned to find Azriel baking in the kitchen one morning, seething in anger at his poor excuse of a cake. Not wanting to further upset the male who had already been so down, Cassian forced himself to eat the cake with an overly enthusiastic grin on his face, hiding his gagging which had resulted from the revolting texture. His bad acting didn’t even crack a smile on the shadowsinger’s face much to the General’s disappointment.

Azriel knew his friends were concerned about him, especially after his breakdown in the garden. They were all aware it was due to this mystery woman that Azriel had met during his time in Day, however, Azriel refused to share anything about her and they couldn’t understand why.

It took several days for Cassian to realise Azriel wasn’t going to open up about it, that he would tell his brothers about her if and when he wanted to. Grateful for his friend, Azriel welcomed Cassian’s silent and unquestioning company whenever he tried something new. It wasn’t Y/N and it didn’t heal his aching heart, but the knowledge of his brother being there for him was enough for Azriel to get by. One day at a time.

Two weeks had passed since Azriel’s not so joyous return to the Night Court. He had adjusted to being back in his home but the Y/N sized hole in his heart still existed. He wasn’t surprised the pain was still present, Y/N was his once in a lifetime type of love and Azriel had missed his opportunity.

He was sulking in the kitchen when Rhysand tentatively approached him. The same way he has been doing since his return, as if he expected Azriel to disappear once more only to never return. “Oh Az! There you are I’ve been looking for you” He said upon his approach, “Helion’s sent over a few of your things I must have missed.”

“You didn’t miss anything though?” Azriel frowned at Rhys’s words, wondering what Helion could have given Rhysand seeing as all his belongings had been brought back from Day court upon his arrival.

“Oh? Well they’re in your room if you want to check, I can always send them back to him if they’re not yours” his brother replied shrugging his shoulders as he exited the kitchen.

Curious, Azriel readily made his way to his bedroom, entering to see two items he didn’t recognise on his bed. A painting and a gift wrapped in black and tied neatly with a velvet bow. He approached his bed, heart rate increasing and tears welling in his eyes as the image painted on the canvas came into focus.

An inky black sky, littered with stars that Azriel could have sworn were twinkling, glowing warmly on the page like a lit candle. The beautiful skyline below of the Court he had come to care for, because it was the home of the woman he loved. He needn’t ask who painted this picture, the image a perfect copy of the same scene that was burned into his memory. A token from the best night of his life. With shaky hands, Azriel lifted the painting to appreciate it in all its glory. Scared to remove his eyes from the piece, he kept them locked onto the delicate strokes as if he stared at it long enough he’d be able to crawl through the canvas and escape back to that night. That he’d be given a chance to fix what had been broken.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat on his bed and admired the painting, but soon his attention was drawn to the wrapped gift which seemed to tug at his chest, calling him to it.

Tremor still present in his hands, he delicately pulled apart the bow and slowly opened the wrapping as if afraid to tear it. The dark paper fell away to reveal a cobalt blue tunic, decorated with silver thread that poured over the piece like liquid moonlight. A matching pair, Y/N’s dress and a tunic. His tunic.

Azriel took the time to run his scarred fingers over each whirl of thread that constructed the familiar lines of an Illyrian tattoo, making sure not to miss a single stitch out of fear of not showing the item the respect it deserves.

Once this task was complete he sped to the mirror in his room, stripping himself of his old black shirt and pulling on the tunic. Hands running down the soft material as he appreciated the way it looked on him, the way it was made for his body.

That same strange tug in his chest panged as he observed himself in the mirror. Not wanting to ignore its presence, or because he couldn’t control the need to interact with the strange sensation, he tugged at his chest as if pulling on a long thread.

Pulling and pulling until something inside of him finally released and it felt like his heart had burst open. His world exploded into violent shades of pinks, yellows and blues, the garish colours that he associated with Y/N. Azriel felt as though his senses had come to life for the first time, the vanilla scent of Y/N that emanated from the tunic was driving him wild.

Azriel had spent centuries longing for a mate, a need which had only grown greater when his brothers had found theirs. And now it had clicked for him too. The cauldron had tied him to the ethereal beam of light in his life. His beautiful smiling Y/N. She was his. His mate.

Azriel looked back to his now panting form in the mirror and crazed, frenzied eyes stared right back at him. He knew what needed to be done. Where he needed to go. And so Azriel left to go and find his mate.

Part 9

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: Hope I’m starting to make up for all the tears I caused 😭

Taglist:

@thelov3lybookworm @minnieoo @going-through-shit @iluvyewman-blog @laughterafter @amysangel @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @justvibbinghere @honeybeeboobaa @willowpains @tele86 @mysticalfuncollectorus @mybestfriendmademe @starryhiraeth @gorlillaglue25 @moonlwghts @darling006 @anuttellaa @serendipityx150 @xxxalicerogersxx @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @naturakaashi @nyx-the-alien @lostinpages13 @namelesssav @dreamlandreader @fightmedraco @maxmouse001

[night-raven-tattler]

What's your ideal type?

Summary: What would be the best traits for their potential partner to have?

Characters: Pomefiore dorm (Vil, Epel, Rook) xGN!Reader (separate, romantic)

Other parts of the series: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Vil's ideal type would be...

Someone who appreciates fashion. Vil is a person with very refined, particular taste. It's important for you to also appreciate his tastes, even if you don't know much about them, in order to stay by his side.

Someone who is open to criticism. Being on a personal mission to make himself and the world around him the best it can be, Vil works tirelessly to improve. And that energy extends to the people around him. If you are willing to pay attention to his wisdom and opinions, you are a person Vil can appreciate.

Someone who is proud to be his partner. The Queen of Pomefiore, Mr Schoenheit herself, deserved to be venerated... but Vil is not looking for someone to kiss the dirt he walks on. He knows his worth, but he just wants someone to be proud of being with him for being who he is, from his public persona to the little nerd who reads the latest potion studies.

Someone who can deal with his overwhelming life. Vil has high standards that are hard to meet, and combined with his hectic schedule and his diminished privacy, Vil knows he would have a very hard time to find someone strong enough to date him. But if you at least try to meet him in the middle and try to find a comfortable place for the both of you, he would surely reciprocate in kind.

『••✎••』

Epel's ideal type would be...

Someone he can be himself with. It's a known fact Epel has a hard time picking what parts of his genuine personality he can show to the world while following Vil's guidance, and the mask often slips. From slipping into his accent to scratching his hands while climbing trees, Epel would feel more comfortable if the mask fell with someone that likes to see those parts of him, too.

Someone who likes apples. Would you be surprised to know that the Harveston boy who pretty much breathes apples every day would think disliking apples is a deal breaker? You need to at least tolerate them. If you happen to have an apple allergy, you're on thin ice.

Someone he can be strong for. Epel has a very specific idea of what being a strong man means. While some of that image is not rooted in the best beliefs, Epel still thinks that partners are supposed to protect each other. If you're the only one being strong for him and treating him like a damsel in distress, it's gonna give his ego a huge hit.

Someone who waits for him to make the first move. An idea also rooted in what he thinks a strong man should be, Epel wants to prove his resolve in building a partnership by making the first move. It would take some time for him to do so, since he would need to deal with his whole "sappy romance is for losers" mentality first. But he'll appreciate you if you wait for him.

『••✎••』

Rook's ideal type would be...

Someone with a curious nature. Rook is in love with the whole known and unknown world, and wants to discover all of the world's beauties. And sometimes a hunter needs a right hand, following him closely and being part of the process. If you can be that for him, you'd get to see him at his most gleeful.

Someone who is open minded. A lover of beauty in all of its forms would need someone just as appreciative by his side. Even if you don't carry the same love he does, you can at least appreciate the things he does: trying to see the appeal of things he finds appealing would make his heart soar. After all, you're just trying to see a glimpse of the world through his eyes, non?

Someone who gives back the energy he gives to them. Rook's easily excitable nature can be off putting to some, and downright annoying to others. While he can deal with it, it can get exhausting. If you can respond to him with the same energy and try to meet him halfway, it would make his heart skip a beat.

Someone who can reign in his impulsive nature. Let's be honest, Rook is not known for his absolute patience. While he can monitor his targets until he gets what he wants, Rook can also jump into danger even if he is aware of the consequences. He needs you to grab his shoulder and look for alternatives, even if he would want you two to jump in together.

『••✎••』

[v1x3n]

" H A V E Y O U S E E N M Y - O H ! "

johnny 'soap' mctavish x reader ⸝⸝ navigation

୨୧ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 : you wanted your nice panties for a date but you cannot find them when they're wrapped around your roomates cock :(

୨୧ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 : smut, suggestive - no acc sex, male masterbation, stealing panties, pervert behaviour, johnny's cock!!

you grunt whilst looking through your bedroom for your favourite pair of panties, a light blue lacy thong with a cute white bow plastered onto the top. it was the pair you would wear when trying to impress men, to make you seem sexy and hot. tonight you had a date so you needed to scurry around to find it, you sigh as it is nowhere to be seen. perhaps it was in the wash, you wouldn't know why it would be because you hadnt had sex with anyone in a while but you might as well check.

a confused look stuck onto your face as you search through your washing basket, nothing. then the washing machine, nothing. you scoff and look over towards your roomates door, maybe it had gotten mixed up with johnny's clothes?

you didn't feel that embarrassed because he was your best friend, he would tell you far more embarrassing things that makes asking him if he knows where your knickers are normal. you knock gently onto his door and to answer its silent, "johnny! you free?" you speak as there's no immediate answer.

you twist the handle and you see it's not locked so the door handle turns. the door creaks open and you try to peek inside but all you see is the floor, to be honest you were kind of scared, like why wasn't he answering? but that was just that small voice in the back of your head, the more sane, reasonable answer is that he had headphones on and couldn't hear. you step one foot inside, "johnny?" muttering before fulling swinging the door open and stepping into the room. "have you seen my- oh!"

as you peer up to johnny's bed and your jaw drops, what you find is not him listening to music and drawing or whatever his hobbies were. it was him, boxers and pants lowered to his thighs. his throbbing, massive cock, the strong veins that your eyes trail eventually meet what was supposed to be his tip but it was covered in a lace material. you stand there shocked and throw a hand over your eyes, "oh god im sorry!!" you shout, trying to get the burned image out of your eyes.

"fuck, im sorry bonnie" he trembles and quickly shuffles, you had expected him to be putting away his dick so you reopen your eyes. his cock still standing there proud but the lace was missing. "johnny! put that away!" you gasp and cover your face in embarrassment, he had no shame did he?

"what did you need?" he scoffs whilst pulling back up his clothes and hiding his turned on length. "i-i was uhm- i was looking for my underwear, you know that light blue pair?" an eye peeks over your hands, letting out a sigh of relief when it was gone. hands drop and you look up at his messy hair and his sweaty face.

"oh i know, ye checked the machine?"

"yeah i have, not there" you pout, strutting over to sit on the end of his bed. "ye know, clothes ge missin' in those daft machines. why do ye need them?" you look up at him and your eyes linger on his bare chest, you knew it was odd to look but you didn't really want to make eye contact. squirming closer as the end of the bed slumped and it was uncomfortable to sit on, your knees touch his legs as you move closer to him. you feel a weird lump under your leg but you ignore it. "'m going on a date"

"oh" he mutters, "just wear a ratty pair, bet the tosser isn't worth the fancy piece." his smirk jolts up, corners of his mouth reaching high. "whos the geezer anyways?"

you pull out your phone, thigh hitting with the lump in his bed and you pull out a picture of the guy you were meant to be seeing. he wasn't that attractive but he definitely was not ugly, you just wanted to re- put yourself out there after a long time of not bothering. "could be better" johnny shrugs, your eyes finally meet him and your lips part. fuck, he was pretty, especially for just wanking off. he wasn't all gross and disgusting, yeah he was kind of damp from the sweat but you found it more hot. "well i need them and i think ill just like- cry if i don't."

"'m sure youll be okay"

you huff, moving back to put your phone away and yet again the bump annoys you. you scoff and reach under the blanket to grab whatever was causing the lump. "wait-" johnny mutters, his hand coming towards you and you pull out the same cloth that covered johnnys dick just a few minutes ago. wait, it looks familiar. you hadn't put the pieces together before, you hadn't even gave the weird fabric a second thought but the light blue colour, the lacy feel and the almost falling off bow. "johnny!" you gasp, "you- my- johnny!" you shriek higher than before.

"awh! now you can ge on yer date" he smiles.

[pythoria]

feeling some feelings about gale tonight *cracks knuckles*; he was a child prodigy, he was in tune with the weave, and inevitably mystra, since he was just a little kid. imagine being so in tune with magic, feeling so comfortable and safe within its bounds, falling in love with something so beautiful as a child. it becomes your whole world. imagine being filled with such childish idealism, such hope, that your only desire becomes getting closer to this thing, this goddess, finding that love and safety and giving it form.

imagine growing up, finally getting the attention of your goddess, how starry eyed you must be, how proud of yourself. this is your whole world, the reason you're alive, your purpose in life. mystra is everything to you, the magic in your veins, the giddy feeling in your heart, the proud ego in your chest. and then she finally *sees* you for the first time, you end up sharing her bed, touching her, talking to her, earning her approval, and, you think, her love. magic is your job, your lover, the motherly embrace of childhood. of course you would try to ascend to be with mystra forever. of course you would want power, so she sees you as an equal. of course you want to impress her, she's all you've ever known.

and then when you fail, when a ticking bomb gets stuck in your chest, you get none of that love and care. she doesn't protect you, she doesn't even talk to you anymore. so you've lost everything you've ever held dear in one fell swoop, the basket you put all your eggs in shattered, and you're left with nothing. you're now a middle aged man, your whole life spent in service of your goddess, who abandoned you at the first sign of free will you've shown. you feel like a failure. you don't have any friends, nor lovers, and you fall from being an archmage to nearly becoming an ilithid thrall. and maybe you realise that were it not for the astral prism, you'd have become a mindflayer and mystra wouldn't have saved you.

maybe you realise she's completely written you off when elminster shows up and tells you she wants you to sacrifice yourself. maybe you think "is this what my life's work is worth? a lifetime of devotion? a second hand missive asking me to die?". but no matter how ridiculous the request, you're in too deep now. nobody would care if you died, mystra made sure you were always focused on her, never making meaningful connnections with other mortals, having no friends, foes, or lovers. if mystra forsakes you, you might as well not exist. so death to serve her might be the best ending you could've hoped for, really.

except along comes someone, and they also have a worm in their head, and you team up, and soon enough there's a bunch of you strutting around faerun, and suddenly someone *cares*. for the first time in years, you actually have... friends? and they're telling you mystra is insane, that you've been manipulated, they tell you that what mystra is asking is too much, that they want you to live. and you're defensive, of course. you still love mystra, and you can't get away from her either, because you feel her presence every time you cast as much as a firebolt, magic running through your veins like ambrosia, nectar and poison all at once. you conjure her face to gaze at, and when you start falling for tav, you show them the weave, because that's the only way you know how to love. eventually you accept that you might have to defy mystra to stay alive and suddenly you have a choice again. but in the process, everything you knew and loved turned to dust, and you had to build yourself back up from the ashes, all while smiling and laughing and trying fruitlessly to fit in with your companions, who find you stuck up and weird after so much isolation.

gale is such a tragic character, if you think about it.

[goodlucktai]

raised on little light (1/3)

rise of the tmnt word count: 2k pairing: leo & oc i've had this idea rattling around since the rise farewell comic earlier this year made it canon that the turtles had another brother and a sister floating around somewhere. we know who their sister is, so this is my take on that 5th brother. i hope you enjoy meeting him <3 big thank you to @soldrawss and @mykimouser for enabling my insane behavior (and thank you again to sol for drawing the art i included in this chapter!!!) title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3

x

2020

Leo regretted his last words as soon as they left his mouth.

“Hero moves are totally your style”? As if Raph doesn’t have enough issues already.

But what he meant—what he would have tried to explain if there was time—was that Raph is his hero. He’s always been Leo’s hero. And if Leo could be anything like him, even for a second, even if it was the last thing he ever did, then he could be satisfied with that. 

It’s a silly thing to be stuck thinking about, laying on a torn up chunk of earth with a monster ominously lumbering somewhere below, looking for where it threw its toy. Laying there, feeling every bruise and broken bone, and hoping that he didn’t hurt his big brother’s feelings.

They’ll be okay, Leo thinks, trying to make it be the thing that gives him courage instead of just more homesickness. They’ll miss me, maybe for a long time, but they’ll be okay.

Leo’s supposed to be fighting for his life, but it’s all he can do to keep a grip on the photo in his hand, the only thing in this entire dimension worth holding onto. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes open when every blink is longer than the last. 

It feels like enough of a rebellion. The Krang looked annoyed that he was still breathing the last time it batted him through the void like a fly, which gives Leo the idea that he should probably be dead by now. He feels a detached sort of pride at how grown-up he’s being about all this. Better late than never

Leo waits for the Krang to come for him, dripping his blood and sneering his daddy’s nickname for him hatefully as it does, and hopes he made his family proud. 

Leo hopes he’ll go wherever Gram-gram is. It would be nice to know someone when he gets there. 

Movement in his periphery snags Leo’s attention. His brain starts throwing up warning flags, signaling danger—anything moving around in here is another parasite, or a Krang hound, nothing he’ll want to be sprawled out on a silver platter for—but he can’t summon any urgency. 

He turns his head and finds himself looking up at another turtle. 

It’s the very last thing he expected to see. They both just stare at each other for a moment. 

The newcomer appears to be a few years older than Leo, based on the broadness of their shoulders, and half a head taller. Their skin is more gray than green and their plastron is so pale it’s closer to white than yellow. Their carapace, what Leo can see of it, is a deep blue-black and they’re covered, skin and shell both, in white spots. Two of the spots on their face give the impression of eyebrows lowered in a glare, but they don’t seem angry at him.

The turtle is completely unfamiliar to Leo, which is saying something. He thought he and his family had the monopoly on… this whole situation. 

Disquieted, Leo remembers that he’s supposed to be the only turtle here. That was a very significant part of the decision he’d made. 

It must be a hallucination, he decides, instantly comforted by his own reasoning. That makes sense. He just wished that if his mind was going to conjure him some dying company it could at least be someone he knows. An imaginary Mikey or Donnie or Raphie for one last hug. One last affectionate forehead bonk. An “I still love you,” if that wasn’t asking too much. 

Don’t you cry now, he scolds himself sternly when his eyes start to blur and burn. It’s not about you. 

With a resounding crash of metal against stone, the Krang finds them at last. He’s snarling something that Leo is too slow to piece together before he cuts himself off—surprising the hell out of Leonardo by acknowledging the hallucination. That’s not how that works. 

“Another pest ,” the Krang hisses. His serrated teeth glint when he draws his gummy lips back in an ugly smile. His tone is oily and unpleasant when he adds, “You’re less colorful than those other ones. I would have remembered seeing you. Where were you when your accomplices were fumbling about in my Technodrome like the stupid creatures they are?”

“We won,” Leo reminds the alien, even though it makes him cough. His lips are warm and wet now but he won’t think about why. “Blew up your ugly ship. Who looks stupid now?” 

“Shut your mouth!” the Krang roars, going from slimy to homicidal in about three seconds. Leo cringes, every ounce of animal instinct in his body urging him to hide in his shell and ride the rest of this nightmare out. 

The spotted turtle snaps, “Don’t talk to him.” 

It would have made sense if he was looking at Leo when he said it. Don’t engage, don’t bait the big monster that could kill you with as much effort as it takes you to blink, et cetera ad nauseum. If only he’d had a nickel for every time he heard that. 

But instead the turtle is looking at the Krang, and he’s radiating the kind of cold-blooded murder that you mostly only see in movies. He has one arm flung out in front of Leo like he actually means to use it to stop the Krang from getting any closer. 

“Don’t even look at him,” he goes on, sounding seconds away from baring his teeth. 

This guy is significantly unaware of the danger he’s facing, and Leo ought to warn him about what enormous clusterfuck he’d just wandered into. Leo ought to say he appreciates the reptile solidarity, but you should definitely run, new guy. 

But this probably isn’t actually happening outside of his own head. And besides, Leo has to focus really hard on his numb fingers so he doesn’t drop his photo. 

“I’ll look where I please,” the Krang says, as unbothered by the hallucination as he was by Leo’s entire family. “Starting with that fool head of yours. I’m interested in whatever backdoor led you here. If it’s my way out, well —”

Adrenaline surges through Leo, and he’s hardly aware of moving before he’s lurching up and shouting out, “No!” 

He can’t get out, he can’t. Leonardo won’t be able to trick him again. He won’t be there to help this time. 

“I do have one thing for you,” the spotted turtle interrupts to say, reaching over his shoulder for what turns out to be a compound crossbow strapped to his back. 

Leo doesn’t know a lot about archery so it’s weird his fictional turtle does, crank-cocking the weapon like it’s an extension of his arm. He watches cluelessly as the turtle slides something very purple out of his jacket pocket and notches it into the groove where the bolts are supposed to go. It’s definitely not a bolt, but it’s a piercing-type projectile of some kind, and it fits in the crossbow like it was designed with crossbows in mind. 

The turtle aims the bow at the Krang, who clicks the claws of his metal suit on the ground the way Splinter would drum his fingers on the kitchen counter when he was waiting on the microwave. The Krang looks condescending and mildly curious, like he’s watching dumb little animals do something they’re not trained to do. 

“He told me to tell you he’s sorry he couldn’t be here to see this part,” the spotted turtle says, and then shoots without a second of hesitation or unnecessary dramatics. 

The Krang bats the projectile away, or tries to, but it explodes on contact with his armor, and suddenly all Leo can smell is burning metal. Then burning meat. 

The Krang begins to scream, clawing at something defiantly purple with a mind of its own that eats straight through him the effortless, immediate way corrosive acid chews through soft tissue. It moves like nanotech, covering as much of the Krang as possible in a manner of seconds and clearly designed to consume whatever it touches like a school of cartoon piranhas. 

Donnie would love it, color scheme and all. 

The Krang stumbles drunkenly, howling like a creature possessed, and Leo and his turtle companion both watch silently until he tips over the edge of the hunk of torn earth they’re on. Gravity is nonexistent in this dimension, so he doesn’t so much fall as sort of drift in another direction while he’s distracted with the purple stuff that’s doing its best to eat him alive. 

The last handful of minutes have been so bizarre that it’s actually going pretty far in convincing Leo that none of it happened for real. The Krang hasn’t actually found him yet. This is clearly a dream. Or a pre-death electrical storm as the neurons in his brain fire up to fizzle out.  

He tips his head to the side again to stare up at the archer, who is putting his bow away with perfect confidence that whatever that purple thing was, it will do the job. 

“Who are you?” Leo asks stupidly. 

“Gio,” the probably imaginary turtle replies.

Leo’s mouth runs off before he can stop it. “Just Gio? Like Cher?”

God, he thinks. That was stupid, Leo. Not the time or place, Leo. You’re in the prison dimension. You’re dying here and you can’t even cut the jokes now? Raph was so right about you.

But the imaginary turtle surprises him by smiling slightly, the corners of his mouth pulling just barely upwards in a way that somehow completely transforms him. Not the time or place for jokes or smiling at them but here they are. Like company.

“Giorgio Hamato,” ‘Gio’ says. That lands in Leo’s ears as something remarkably worth making a lot of noise over, but he can’t begin to unpack it. And after a second, he forgets what the remarkable part was. His mind is a deck of cards that got shuffled too enthusiastically and ended up scattered all over the floor. Gio doesn’t seem to mind when Leo just blinks at him, adding, “I’m here to take you home.”  

“Pretty sure Uber doesn’t come out this far,” Leo mumbles, the words a paint smear, all thick and wet and muddy. One of his teeth feels broken and it’s keeping him awake, a blistering ache that cracks through the back of his mouth like lightning. “And I’ve got, like, zero bars.”

This is how I cope, he thinks, watching the bigger turtle absorb the second bad joke in as many minutes. Leo’s blinking fast so he doesn’t cry. He’s trying to focus on anything but the pain radiating through his whole body, and the swallowing darkness all around him, and the ruins of ancient metal ships looming where they float unrestricted by gravity, and the ballistic howls of a pissed-off pink alien still dealing with whatever the heck this Gio guy did to him.

He can’t focus on any of that because all of that is scary and he’s already terrified. He needs to not be terrified because he doesn’t want to be that kind of ghost when he haunts his family. He wants to be the friendly, funny kind, the kind that gets to stay at the end of the movie, the kind that will make silly faces at Mikey so he doesn’t get scared, and leave sticky notes for Donnie to remember to charge his phone and drink enough water, and cover Raphie with an extra blanket while he’s asleep because it gets cold at night but he always leaves his bedroom door open for them.

If Leo’s friendly and funny, if he helps, he’ll get to stay. He didn’t get to stay the first time, so this time he has to make it stick.

Larger hands wrap around his. It doesn’t register for a second, and then it does in a big way.

Leo jerks his head up. Moving just that much hurts like his ribs are broken all the way down and the bones in his leg have all melted into liquid agony, but it clears some of the fog away.

Someone is holding his hands in the prison dimension.

An alien like the Krang wouldn’t know the first thing about the human gesture, the togetherness of it, so it’s not some mean trick that’s being played. And it can’t be an imaginary turtle that Leo dreamed up, after all, because kindness would be the last thing he’d give himself.

Possibly very real Gio says, “Fuck Uber. Whatever that is. And don’t repeat that word.”

The punchy breath Leo chokes in is going to punch out again as a laugh or a sob. Leo squeezes the bigger turtle’s hands, photo crinkling between them, suddenly tethered to something in this void and hysterically certain that he’ll die for real if Gio lets go.

“I’m sixteen.” Leo’s voice wobbles. He doesn’t know what to react to first. He doesn’t understand how this is happening. He holds on. “I can say the fuck word if I want to, I’m practically an adult.”

Gio’s face does something it hurts to look at. His eyes are dark and sincere, the shape of them entirely familiar. There’s a warmth inside him that permeates the gloom. A star belonging to a much larger galaxy, but more significantly, belonging to the same crooked constellation Leo belongs to.

I know you, he thinks, surprised by the truth of it. I do. Where have you been?

“We’re going home,” Gio says, the certainty in his voice like one of those huge stones a river parts around, unmoved by the currents and crashing water. “I know the way out. Don’t worry about it. Close your eyes.”   

The worst thing that could happen has already happened, Leo thinks. There’s no reason not to trust him. There’s nothing left to lose. He closes his eyes.

He feels himself drawn in, tucked against the built-in armor of a turtle chest, head resting on a broad shoulder. He’s been carried like this a million times before. He didn’t think it would happen again. Somewhere along the line, he’d been picked up for the last time and put down for the last time, and now he’s here, where no one who loves him can reach him, to scoop him up when he falls asleep on the sofa and take him to bed.

But Gio lifts him up like he’s still a kid. The Krang is bellowing hateful promises in between the grating shrieks of pain, promises of what he’ll do when he gets his hands on Leo, but all of that is far away. 

Leo isn’t afraid anymore. He isn’t going to be a ghost.

He’s pretty sure he’s going home.   

[konigsblog]

omg I loved idea of kidnapper!konig w the shy and sheltered reader it has me floored tbh🫨😮‍💨 presenting you my brain rot the way a proud cat delivers a leaf on your doorstep as a token of gratitude

thinking about how he noticed her at her work or something bc she was so helpful but a little reserved, afraid of him even. Probably bc she isn’t used to seeing 6”10 behemoth military men every day. Konig is smitten w the way she shies away from his intense eye contact, the way she flushes painfully all over her face and neck and stutters as he tries to make conversation. He is enamored, because despite being taken aback by him she still is so obedient and proper in the way she addressed him, going out her her way to make sure he has everything he needs. He wonders in how many other ways she would be so willing to serve him. He knows that she would make the perfect housewife, one worth it to being kept in a gilded cage. a beautiful girl such as herself, oblivious to the dangers of the real world needs protection, someone strong to keep her safe from all the bad men who would no doubt gladly take advantage of her. Konig makes a vow that day to be her protector. at first, the only thing she does is cry and try to get away from him after she wakes up and finds herself chained in his dark basement. She refuses to believe this is her new reality, that’s she’s held captive in the dungeon of the soldier with the icy blue eyes she met at work. She wonders what her mistake was, because she only tried to be nice and friendly despite feeling a deep sense of dread in the pit of her stomach the minute she had laid eyes on the masked giant. If only she had listened to her gut…

no matter how much she beg and pleads, the giant doesn’t budge. He patiently waits for her panic to subside as he takes her in his arms, shushes her and gently wipes and kisses away her tears. He makes her skin crawl, but no matter what she does, she can’t escape the iron grip of his enormous arms snaked around her waist, holding her against his chest as he rocks her back and forth. He is so sweet and gentle, so patient and understanding. He lulls her to sleep in his arms, speaking soft and soothing words in her ear. Soon, she’ll get used to her new home. To her new place beside him, as his. His to love, his to cherish and protect. He promises the chains will come off her ankles and wrists once she behaves and stops trying to get away. But until then, she’s bound to sleep on the old mattress in the cold basement. Of course he isn’t heartless. He comes down once a day to feed her, always making sure its her favorite foods and snacks she gets but on one condition: she has to let him feed her, take the bites and spoonfuls from his hand. He coos at how much of a good girl she is being for him, his praises tinting her ears all pink. And he allows her to bathe, he has all of her favorite oils and gels and products. But once again, for a price. She has to allow him to bathe her. At first she tries to edge away from his hands on her, large and brute palms lathering her soft skin with soap, thoroughly rubbing her all over. She’s never been naked in front of someone else, let alone touched in such a way. But she relaxes once he applies enough pressure on her aching joints, massaging the soreness away. When she finally relaxes and leans her head back against the bathtub, she feels his calloused fingers edge down to her core, teasing her folds. She flinches and opens her eyes, looking up at him, startled and caught like a deer in the headlights.

“have you ever been touched down here, meine hirsch?”

his voice is ever so soft and inviting. She shakes her head, caught in his gaze as her chest falls and rises, her nipples hardening from the cold as her soapy breasts peak up from underneath the bubbles. His fingers find something small, something hidden between her folds and she yelps when he starts rubbing slow and small circles on it. He is delighted to have his suspicions confirmed, his engel is untouched. A virgin.

“you’ve been so good for me today. So obedient. You’re learning so fast, meine hirsch. I think you’ve earned another reward. How about I spoil you some more?”

NON-CON/RAPE

könig is so ecstatic to realise that his little engel is a sweet, inexperienced virign. so he can be your first, the one to corrupt you. you're just so sheltered, so scared and teary-eyed when his hands dip further and further until they reach area's you wish they wouldn't have.

his semi-hard cock only hardens more at the sight of you; bare and wet in a tub of warm water, weak and vulnerable against him. god, the thoughts and fantasies of taking you now – even if you didn't want it – were driving him crazy, almost delusional as his eyes widen and the sides of his mouth curl up into a eerie smile. his morals almost forgotten about when he saw you shudder.

“oh-hah, my sweet thing... are you a virgin?” he lauaghs out at the question, almost taken about, excited and shocked.

he chuckles lowly when you nod, rubbing your clit in soothing circles whilst kissing your cheek. you whimper, whining at the newfound attention to your clit. you can only grip the sides of the bathtub, cornered in and useless against your kidnapper.

“please–stop!” a hearty chuckle leaves könig at your sight of misery, your fear. the tortue he's inflicting apon you and your poor, virgin body.

“you have nothing to be afraid of, my dear...” despite his promises, you could see past his smirk, knowing exactly what he had in store for you.

könig bundled you up into the towel, holding you in bridal style before placing you down at the edge of the bed. he threw the towel open from your body so that you were laying against it. the rough texture against your soft skin while he swirls his throbbing dick around your tight entrance. you whimper, squirming and shaking at the pleasure before he eases inside mercilessly. your nerves through the roof.

he doesn't care. not about your pleasure, but about the tightness of your pussy around his big dick. he's just so hard, so, so fucking hard as he pushes deep inside, pressing against your womb as he repeatedly begins thrusting into you. you cry out, thrashing beneath him to no avail as his grip on your hips only tightens, pushing you down against the bed :(

“stop-please, i don't want it!!” you whimper out, fearful and trembling, pussy throbbing and pulsing uncontrollably around him, only driving him more insane, giving him more power and control as he uses the way your body reacts against you. your pussy can't seem to stop drooling, what's the issue? he's just making sure his princess is treated right.

“look at you, you can't even deny that you're enjoying this.” he huffs out when he feels your folds wrap and tighten around his fat cock, continuously driving his huge cock into your virgin pussy relentlessly. no pity or mercy, and sure as hell no sympathy as you continue squirming despite being asked repetitively to stay still for him. so he can use you, just how he thinks you like.

you don't want this, none of it. but when he pinches your hardened, swollen nipples while bullying his thick and veiny dick into your weeping, raw cunt, you can't help but moan and pant, arousal dropping from your sex as he grinds against you.

“...no-no more...” you pant breathlessly. so sore, aching and bruised. his rough pace doesn't stop, not even for a second. slapping your face harshly as you grew more dumb and dizzy from his cock. he didn't want you to miss a second of this.

“don't pass out on me, engel, i won't stop even if you're unconscious...” you sob out at his words, choked and silenced when he wraps his large and calloused hand around your throat, making you babble out at the burning, rupturing sensation in your core.

so, so callous and careless as he leaves you whimpering and sensitive.

[kingkatsuki]

More fic ideas that I have absolutely no intention of writing.

Knight Bakugou who’s positioned to guard you. The King wants the best to protect his Princess, and Bakugou is the best. Besides, it’s not like the man had a choice, he doesn’t want to lose his job— or his life.

You hate to admit that Bakugou is good at his job, much better than the men that had tried to guard you before. Making it difficult for you to sneak out into the gardens in the evening to watch the stars, or to sneak into town for the weekend festivities.

You should hate him for ruining the routine you’d managed to work yourself into over the years, for stealing away the freedom that you’d rewarded yourself when no one else would offer you the same luxury. But somehow you can’t force yourself to dislike him, there’s something behind his cold and brash personality that has you inquisitive to find out more. Enjoying trying your best to rile him up or push his buttons— spilling your evening tea over his pristine boots, or dropping your towel in front of him when you prepare for your evening bath.

Knight Bakugou knows exactly what you’re trying to do, and he’s determined he won’t fall for your tricks— which is why he’s just as surprised as you are when he finds himself outside with you past curfew in the castle grounds watching the stars. But instead of staring up at the gorgeous night sky, he finds himself turning his head to the side to see how the moonlight glows against your skin. It’s just another thing that has now woven its way into your daily routine together, and as he walks you back to your quarters each night you like to fool yourself that it’s because he wants to, not because his life depends on it.

It isn’t long before the King begins to bring in suitors from neighbouring towns to vie for your hand in marriage. None of which are out of love, but a necessity to strengthen alliances between armies. Which is why it doesn’t matter if you even like any of them, because the choice won’t be yours. The men are scheduled to fight for your hand, and as you sit and wait for them to joust you notice Bakugou clad in full metal armour across the field.

The King positioned him as his strongest guard— because he is.

A man worthy enough to beat his strongest soldier is a man worthy enough to take his daughters hand in marriage. And yet as you watch every man come head to head with Bakugou he beats every single one.

And you think Bakugou has just beat these men because he wants to show how strong and powerful he is, but secretly it’s because he’s so in love with you.

You can’t tell whether your father is proud or annoyed at the fact, especially when Bakugou knocks the son, young Midoriya, off his horse. The man that you believed the King wanted to you marry, the most suitable alliance available.

It’s a few weeks later when Bakugou is sent away on a mission by the King. The head of an army sent out to pillage a neighbouring village who threaten to compromise the power of you’ve forged.

The morning he’s scheduled to leave is the first time he lets you kiss him, he lets you get that close. As though he’s wondering whether he’ll even return home himself. Standing in his quarters in the lower part of the castle, clad in your pyjamas and your feet freezing against the cold stone as he cradles you in his arms. Pouring every ounce of emotion into the kiss as he finally allows himself to have you, even if just for a few selfish moments. Bakugou reckons it’s worth the risk of dying, to feel your lips on his again. A fellow guard, Kirishima catches you both as he takes Bakugou away from you— watching them ride off on horseback as you still feel the warmth of him surrounding you.

You stay awake each night wondering whether he’s even still alive too— whether you’ll ever see him again. The new guards are just as useless as before and you find yourself longing for his safe return.

It’s two months before your father has another man lined up as a potential suitor. Wondering who might fight for your honour now that Bakugou is gone, but you’re shocked when the King says there’s no need for such friviolity. That the wedding is scheduled, and it’s the right reason to strengthen the Kingdom. It’s not for love, it could never be when your heart belongs to Bakugou.

And even if you told your father about your feelings for his guard, it would be issuing Bakugou his own death sentence if he even managed to make it home at all.

But fate really can be a cruel, fickle thing— and as fate would have it Bakugou returns home the day you’re standing at the altar wearing a pretty wedding dress like you’d dreamed about, while you’re waiting to be betrothed to another man.

[lint-beetle4]

Netflix Monkey King? I want to try. Of course when u get done with other requests😃

I would like to request a Monkey King x female celestial reader headcanons that contains fluff, slight angst and romance. Reader can be shy or any personality u want. If u do shy, they comfort Monkey King saying he doesnt need to be powerful or a god to fit in(trying to remember the plot from memory).

But I hope u do stay safe😊

Celestial Chaos (Netflix!Wukong X Fem!Celestial!Reader)

You hated the monkey that disrupted the celestial realm

Since its birth, the stone monkey had gained a name for itself, challenging gods, defying the heavens and terrifying spirits

The thing was clearly a force of chaos, a force of evil that refused to relent its tyraid

Despite it all, you couldn't help but feel pity for the poor Monkey King, the Sage that tried to fit in with heaven

It was clear his pride was merely protecting him, sending him whispers that he was enough, because he made himself be enough

The demons that fell to him proved his worth, but you knew the celestial realm wouldn't allow anyone of his nature in

Heaven only allowed obedience and order, traits the foolish sage could never have in his state

You weren't too different from him, if you could rationalize it too much

Your shy nature made you invisible, overlooked, excluded

People thought you were either uninteresting or too pompous to converse to the other gods

You never believed their words, but they still stung

You could only imagine how the sage felt when he fought his way to heaven only to be met with scorn

You did your best to soften the blows, acting in solidarity of someone who knew how the generals and gods could be

The foolish monkey became smitten, looking up to you like heaven didn't matter

In the back of your brain, you could say the same

A foolish monkey in your eyes transformed into an honest, proud man who was in over his head

His quest for power was a call for help, a plea that someone would accept him

You were briefly aware of the little mortal that followed him, ill intentions in the way she held herself, yet guilt consuming her

You could only hope that she would help the monkey

In the end, she revealed her true color, bound by a deal meant to bring the king to his knees

the foolish dragon didn't know the price he would pay, and neither did Wukong

With Wukong's revolt, you watched in horror, pleading to him, begging him to stop and calm himself

Yet, he was overcome with power, and the heavens did the only thing they could do: summon Buddha

In the end, Wukong was sealed, but a hidden blessing had been given to you: you were tasked with feeding him and ensuring he survived--something no other celestial wanted to do

You gave him snacks, peaches and all sorts of food that you could find, knowing the celestials wouldn't watch you--a lucky trait of being a doormat is that no one knows your small acts of defiance

As centuries passed by, the king had been freed, tasked with a journey

You had a recent mission to grant blessings to nearby village plagued by drought, and on your way there, you were met with a pair of arms hugging your from behind

There you saw him, your Wukong, the Sage Greater Than Heaven, freed at last

[celestialtarot11]

How to Turn Your Situation Into Something Positive 🍵💗

Hi friends! Welcome to another PAC reading where we’ll be looking at how to transform any current situations you’re in! Keep in mind there are many different groups here and there will be messages which you won’t resonate with, just leave it for someone else 😊❤️ Please like, comment and reblog to share the love ☮️

Pile 1 🌟- Hi there pile 1’s! Someone definitely did ya’ll dirty in a situation and it left you feeling sad and lonely. A loss was created because someone handled a situation unfairly, and you’ve been feeling very down. This situation felt like it was weighing on your chest, and possibly there was a misunderstanding of feelings, or someone took something the wrong way and blew up here. And I feel like you took the brunt of the situation for a long time. I feel like this is something that was happening for a long time, and you’ve been wanting justice to come to this situation, or karma to hit that person to show them where they went wrong. Its also very possible for some of you this person reached out and reignited those triggers and you’re finding it difficult to be compassionate towards them. Your anger is understandable and so are your triggers, I feel like spirit is saying it’s important to know your boundaries in this situation and have your back. Look after you first. There are/were people who benefitted from you having no boundaries because they liked the feeling of power, and that needs to change. There’s this feeling of stepping up or no longer accepting their bullshit, which I’m so proud of you pile 1! Know your worth and value. Thats how you turn this situation into a positive one. Knowing your true worth and value will help you walk away from anything that is less than what you want. This person could be bread-crumbing you and as of now you’re done with that energy! Im also hearing whilst its very understandable you’d wish someone their own karma, spend your time wishing yourself the blessings you’ve always wanted instead. Feed yourself empowerment and start thinking “how can I support myself now?” be there for yourself pile 1, and also once you heal you begin to see a lot of things that you didn’t before. Within yourself and everyone else. Happy healing pile 1 💗🌟 Wishing you the best! Please like comment and reblog to support this blog ✨

Pile 2 ☮️- Hi there pile 2! ❤️🌟 Welcome to your reading. For you I see you need to distance yourself from a community or situation here and really really focus on your self confidence. Your esteem, body, and health. There’s something about getting your life in order and no longer letting external factors or people tell you what to do. Become your own boss in this situation. Some of you need to take an active role in this situation as well and know you’re the shit! 💗 like speaking up, setting boundaries, deciding what YOU’ll do, not focusing on them. You’re everything anyone could ever want, and some of you may have forgotten that. Your true power is meant to come out in this situation. What would help as well is remaining unbothered by this person or situation. I’m hearing it’s a silly situation, for some of you. Like petty high school drama. There could be someone trying to compete with you and show they are the best, but truthfully insecurities are loud, confidence is quiet. I’m hearing from spirit let them make a fool out of themselves because they are responsible for themselves only! What they say and what they do is on them. Continue working on yourself because I feel like whoever this is, is trying to undermine your confidence or skill, and you won’t stand for it and shouldn’t! 😤 I also feel like spirit will be giving you messages in your dreams about this situation so definitely sleep with amethyst, clear quartz or lavender herb under your pillow. If not allergic, drink lavender and chamomile before you bed ✨either way I feel like your presence is truly amazing and its like royalty, and what you need to know is that don’t give those haters your attention. Focusing on yourself is literally the best outcome here. Thank you pile 2’s! Please like comment and reblog to spread the love 💗🌹

Pile 3 ⌛️- Hi there pile 3’s! First of all I just want to ask if ya’ll are okay? 🥹❤️ Ya’ll seem to be going through it. Either a relationship with someone got unhealthy and controlling, or there has been a loss and you’re struggling to cope with it. Spirit is offering a lot of support and healing right now, and although you may not see it or feel it, spirit is protecting you heavily now. There’s a veil around you. I also feel that this ending was necessary because it was getting toxic, controlling and brought out the worse. I think someone here had to make a decision to choose themselves over toxicity. And it’s okay to hurt by that too. Honor and acknowledge your loss without shaming yourself for making the healthy choice 💗 I received the Queen Of Cups so I feel like there’s something about focusing on your growth and healing now. “Let growth be your mission. Let healing be your reward. Let freedom be your goal.” I love this quote and I go by it. Spirit wanted me to share it with ya’ll. I feel like ya’ll have been working on your healing for a long time and revisited something of the past, and its been tough processing it. In a way, its allowing this new version of you to come through and grow every time 💗🥹 This new version of you has a lot of emotional abundance and knowledge, and is definitely patient and caring. I feel like your higher self is coming through to also say it’s important to feed yourself kind words. If harsh words worked it would’ve worked a long time ago is what I heard too. Call yourself the names you wish to be called, like nicknames, talk gently, and use respectful words to yourself the way you would with anyone else ✨💗 I feel like you guys used to give everyone your secret wisdom, or the things you’ve healed from like all of that information, and now you are being asked to remain private and selective about it. This will help you a lot in this situation to focus on yourself. Thank you for being here pile 3 and I sincerely hope this helped you ❤️🌟 Please like comment and reblog to help this blog grow 🌟😊

Thank ya’ll for stopping by! Its highly appreciated and I really hope this PAC got ya’ll the clarity you needed ❤️🥹 Thank ya’ll for being here always.

Paid Readings 💗✨

[andhumanslovedstories]

hi! i'm gonna overshare a little bit but i'm doing my nursing prereqs right now and i'm really worried. i'm kind of really mentally ill and i've been worrying recently if nursing is worth it. i want to help people and it sounds so interesting and i love medical stuff but i don't want to get burnt out with the stress and long hours. someone told me that nursing is a lot like being a restaurant server, and i don't want to go to school and get a degree and a career that's literally just serving again. is it satisfying? is it rewarding? is it soul-killing? i'm scared

hi there! I'll overshare in return! I'm just coming off three months of disability for burnout (which for me is just depression but with a name you can use in the workplace). My job didn't cause my depression, but it certainly exacerbated it. The hours, the stress, the constant exposure to people suffering and the limits on your ability to do something about it, all those suck and they can break your brain. (On the other hand, I've been majorly depressed while working at an ice cream parlor where the walk-in freezer was for smoking weed. You can be depressed anywhere.)

And it is a hard job! Harder in some parts of the field than others. Different places have different nursing cultures, different laws, different staffing, etc. Where I work, there's good protection and advocacy for nursing. That's not true everywhere.

With all that said--I really like nursing. I get to do work that I know contributes good to the world. I get to solve very practical problems. I meet people I would never otherwise meet. I have the opportunity every shift to do something that I am proud of. And a lot of times, I find it fun! It's fun to brainstorm how to make someone who's been puking all night feel better. It's fun to see your efforts rewarded, even in small ways. It's fun to stop something before it becomes an emergency. It's fun bustling around, juggling a dozen different things. It's not ALWAYS fun. But for me, the work is not just meaningful but also enjoyable.

That's how I knew I had bad burnout btw. Even when things went well and I did work I was proud of, every shift was such a fucking slog.

If you are interested in the basic work of nursing (managing the human response to illness and promoting health), then there's a million and one jobs you can do with a nursing degree. They cater to different traits. I've discovered I really like precepting new nurses, I like working on the floor with its routine and concrete goals, and I like symptom management. I don't like critical care or the emergency department or working on stuff that isn't patient care, like paperwork and charge nursing. I like novelty but not chaos. I like independence but not being left entirely to my own devices. I like that I physically cannot take any of my work home. I do not like being on committees. So for me, right now at this point in my life, I like being a basic med-surg night shift float pool nurse. I would be absolutely miserable as a neuro ICU critical care day shift nurse. I would be bored to death being an inpatient rehab night nurse. Being a nurse manager would probably make me suicidal again.

If you find the basic work interesting and rewarding, you can tailor it to your taste. (I can't recommend floor nursing enough for the adhd havers amongst us.)

and last thing, regarding mental illness: I think a lot of nurses (and ppl in healthcare in general) struggle with mental illness way more than they think they do. Someone who knows they have depression and works to manage it will likely be more resilient than someone endlessly pushing through their fatigue and misery. Probably a better nurse, too. I take meds, go to therapy, get sleep, push myself to eat, take sick days, protect my limited energy, do physical activity--I'm a gym girlie now!!--because I'm treating a disease I know that I have. Just knowing that there's something up with your brain and doing something about it puts you way ahead like half of the people who work the emergency department.