#not enough to make the change i need. just enough to keep me the same which was bad but not worse and now it's 100% going on the worse 😀

[thetruemasterofgames]

Okay I'm seeing confusion on this so let me help out to people who don't see the path chose.

Pedophilia, grooming, sexual abuse ect. is nearly universally hated it makes a knee jerk reactions of fear and hatred in most people.

In that reaction people act irrationally they will support a bill without fully reading understanding that it hurts predators and that's enough for them.

Next either hidden in addendum or in a seperate bill they sneak in a less publicized vote to consider expressions of same sex attraction or gender nonconformity to being "explicitly adult material".

Now you may be saying "ttmog it's been culturally adult material for generations what's the issue?" Well I'm glad you asked hypothetical questioner. The difference is it wasn't in legal documentation. The moment it becomes legal documentation it doesn't matter how defiant or polite you are it's seen as adult only material.

Now what does this do? Well it is illegal to distribute or expose adult material to minors. These bills would wager that by a child seeing two men kissing, or a amab in a dress, it is inherently exposing them to adult material. Which classifies the people observed as displaying adult material to a minor, which could be classified as grooming so now....:

We have a gay couple getting executed for displaying affection because a child happened to be present... despite the fact they see straight people do this every day on tv...

These bills are dangerous, they set dangerous precedent, and give means to change the word groomer to mean whatever the hell they want it to mean.

Leading to them being able to execute any group they want.

Be safe, be vigilant and keep fighting. These can not be let to lie we can NOT let them twist things.

Why am I telling all this? Well partially for your education maybe somebody will read this and be inspired to stand up in newfound clarity. But that's not the only reason. Those of you fighting need to be prepared to explain this. Because every time we just dismiss the people posting that "why are you saying it targets you" meme with that dumb goose it tells onlookers who are undecided that we can't answer the question.

Remember its not our goal to convince our opponent it's our goal to refute them well enough that onlookers won't be pulled into their den of propaganda.

Even if you think it won't convince the person you are arguing explain it so others don't get dragged down. And if you can't handle it? That's fine everyone needs a rest. Feel free to use this post as a way to explain if you wish or even tag me I have no qualms fighting bigots. I'm disabled I'm stuck at home and am working on making things for the family most the time. If I can use the times I need to rest my back to fight against stuff like that? Then I'm glad to just to make sure people are more safe.

Stay safe all drink yet water and remember you are loved and matter. You have a whole community behind you no matter what you aren't alone.

LGBT people, I need you to know that any “pedophile execution bill” passed in the US is meant to put you, personally, to death. When the right says “groomer,” they’re talking about you. When they say “predator,” they’re talking about you. When they say “pedophile,” they’re talking about you. Any actual child sex abusers who are convicted and executed would be, to them, a happy accident, a cherry on top of a law that’s meant to exterminate anyone who deviates from the cisgender, heterosexual norm.

[mymindisneverhere]

late night write… change of plans 

18+ SMUT

Imagine… Terry’s only goal is to provide you with pleasure but you test him at the wrong moment.

you laid on top of him, draping your arms over his broad shoulders. his muscular arms wrapped around your back pulling you deeper into his body. your head rested in between his chin and chest, the hairs on his chin tickling the bridge of your nose.

your legs straddle his waist as you try to make yourself comfortable. eyes closed, you waited patiently to feel that first thrust into your entrance. the one that always made your jaw drop no matter how many times you had felt it in the past. 

slow and controlled, he lifted his hips off of the bed and into yours, sliding his length deep into your pussy. pressing his thick tip against your cervix then slowly lowering his hips before repeating. 

his rhythm matched the song on the bluetooth speaker, puddles by trevor jackson. in and out as the beat played in the background. 

you trusted him with your body as he took his time pleasing you. there was a problem though, you loved to please him just as much as he loved to please you. even during times like this when you were only supposed to be on the receiving end of this strong pleasure he was providing, you found it hard to keep your hips in place. 

you lifted your ass up as his hips lowered and then pushed down as his hips rose. you matched his rhythm perfectly, causing your pelvises to clash into the other. 

“be still.” his voice was calm but certain. 

it’s not that he wasn’t doing a damn good job, it’s just that you wanted so badly to do your part. but in times like these the only part you played was being still. he loved to fuck you like this. he enjoyed the feeling of you loosing control in his grasp. moaning, whimpering, fighting hard to stay still although it was damn near impossible. 

your breathing would be steady, in and out, in and out and then cease when you felt him hit that spot over and over again. it was becoming more of a challenge for you, staying still and only breathing. you would hold it until you found the courage to exhale and return to your normal breath. 

“i need to feel you breathing baby.”

you finally let out all of the breath you had been holding in for the past minute. it made no sense how good he felt inside of you. long strokes at a steady tempo and mild pressure had you on edge. 

your entire body weight was on him, there was no room for you to even try and hold yourself up. the way he held you in place only gave you enough room to move your hips and you couldn’t even do that anymore. 

the smooth sounds of your juices coating his shaft along with the sweet melodies flowing through the speakers had your eyes crossing and rolling simultaneously.

soft curses left your lips as you felt yourself growing wetter, stomach fluttering from the constant feeling of him grinding in and out of you. you bit down on your lip trying to fight the urge to move. you wanted so badly to ride him into oblivion, you place both of your hands on his chest and bounce up and down on his dick but his hold on you was so strong. & you would never try to over power him, it would be pointless. 

“mmmmm.” you whimpered. your mind was completely gone as he continued fucking you, never stopping his hips from lifting off of the bed. the way he rolled his hips, filling your walls completely with every thrust had you creaming profusely. “fuck yessss.”

he pressed his lips against your forehead, digging his fingers into your sides. you knew instantly he was trying to prevent himself from cumming. your cries didn’t make it any better for him either. he always had a great amount of self control… until he met you. 

you could feel his breath against your skin as he exhaled deeply, breathing at an even pace. you decided to match his pace, making sure he could hear me as you exhale harshly at the same time as him.

he loosened his hold on you and slid his hand to your ass, squeezing both cheeks as he spread them apart. nothing preventing him from reaching as far as he could with his long dick. 

the room fell silent for just a few seconds before the next song began to play. partynextdoors voice rang through the speakers and just like clockwork his hips were in sync with beat. 

“ohhhh” you moaned, dragging your hand down to his chest, scratching at him in an effort to pacify your desire to move. clawing at his chest wasn’t doing anything but making the pleasure more potent. 

“scratch all you want, you better not move.” 

you cursed him again, not out of pleasure but frustration. your mind was in a frenzy, you felt like your brain was spinning out of control. this man and those fucking hips, he knew just how to make you go crazy without needing to do much. 

“ooooh i’m cummin’ daddy!” at this point both of your hands were curled into his chest, carving thin lines as you rode out your orgasm. he kept thrusting, thriving off of the small pain you were causing him due to all of the pleasure he was giving you. 

“that pussy so good baby.” he held onto your ass, lifting one hand to slap it roughly, not missing a beat. you both were enjoying the small pains you were inflicting on one another, that’s why the two of you worked so well. the pain always doubled the pleasure. 

and just like that, the room fell silent once more until a new song began playing, that song determining the rhythm of his hips of course. 

‘3 in the morning, you know I’m horny’

in a swift motion he rolls the both of you to the side, bodies still pressed closed together. he buries his head into your neck as he continues rolling his hips into yours. you place your hand on the back of his head, your fingers lying lazily against the waves in his hair. 

you were still on a high from your orgasm, you didn’t have the energy to squeeze him tightly, claw at his neck or even bite down on his shoulder. your eyes were closed as he worked your pussy through and through. 

“shit.” he spat, loving the grip you had on him. the way you drenched his dick had him plowing into you with little effort. he lost himself for a moment, indulging in your slick with no regret. 

you cried out, calling his name because that was all you could do. dragging out the last syllable as a way to beg him to let up a bit… just so you could regain your composure. 

immediately snapping him back into his natural dominance, he toyed with you. “what you calling me for?”

he knew exactly why you were calling his name... asshole. 

“ugghhhh, i hate youuu.” you whined, tightening the grip you had on his neck. the pleasure never ceased for a moment. constant hits right in your center, building you up even higher than before. 

“i know.” he ran his hand up the back of your thigh and gripped the inside of your knee, pulling at it in an effort to dig himself even deeper. “say my name again.” 

you could sense the urgency of his tone. the way he was growling in your ear, squeezing your leg, digging his face into your neck, you knew he was on the brink of breaking. so you decided to take advantage of this moment of weakness.

“make me say it.” you moaned back, somewhat regaining your strength to meet him on the same level he was on. you turned your head slightly to press your lips against his ear and repeated. “make me say your name.”

in an instant you were flipped onto your back, legs pinned to the sides of your ears as he fucked you. you weren’t even flexible but the amount of strength this man had, doubled his ability to put you in whatever position he saw fit. your weight was nowhere near a challenge for him, which made it easier to toss you around like a doll if he needed to. 

deep was an understatement to describe the place he had taken in your pussy. your eyebrows were damn near touching one another as you stared up at him. a pleading expression on your face while a look of determination was expressed in his. he kept your legs in place as he pushed himself even deeper into you, making himself disappear entirely. 

you hissed at the feeling of him pressing so deep inside of you, the strong pressure repeating over and over again in your stomach. 

“you fuck me so good daddy.” 

“i know i do.” 

what was supposed to be a calm session, nice and slow, calm and steady, had quickly escalated all because you dared to test him while he was in his moment. he knew what he could do to you. he knew the effect he had on you. you playing as if he was one of those little guys you used to mess with long before he came into your life, had lit a fire in him.

“say my name.” he ordered, pressing your legs even further behind your ears. the pain from the involuntary stretch caused them to shake in his hands. your thighs were burning but your essence was dripping with every thrust. 

“T-Terr..” you started but quickly stopped from the feeling growing in your belly. 

“stop playing with me and say my fucking name!” he barked, still pressing himself deep into you. the sounds of his thighs slapping against your ass grew louder as his grip on you tightened. 

“oh my god!” you yelled, completely ignoring his demand. 

“keep playin’!” he spat. 

“Terrrryyyyyy!” you cried, staring down at yourself, watching him go in and out of you. the view alone shooting you right to your peak. “yessssss baby, i’m cummin’!” 

the ring you left around his dick grew thicker and thicker with his stroke. a mess was being made and it was the best part of the day for you. you locked your gaze onto his, almost stuck in a daze while your body came. 

“this shit so pretty baby.” he moaned, staring down at the mess you were making. he was caught up in the sight of his dick falling into you so effortlessly, coated in your creaminess, he had to bite his lip to keep his cool. the tugging he felt in his abdomen let him know he was close and there was no holding it in. 

“fuck, i’m bout to nut all in this shit.” he announced only a few seconds before shooting his cum directly against your cervix. with only the strength to give you a couple more thrusts, he planted himself deep inside of you until he could catch his breath. 

“damn.” he said, nostrils flaring as the beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. releasing your legs and placing his hands on the bed, he pressed his forehead against yours. the muscles in his stomach were still contracting and you smiled to yourself slightly. for a split second you witnessed him lose his cool once again, that yearning look on his face forever being planted in your mind. 

“i make you weak don’t i?” you asked, brushing your lips against his as he continued breathing heavily.

“always.” he kissed your lips and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a much needed embrace. 

taglist: @saltburnsworld @saturnville @kykylovesblog @ovohanna24 @notapradagurl7

If you wanna join the taglist pls comment and I'll be sure to add you from here on out. 🩵

[mountainsoftreatos]

Just having some thoughts/feels I had to share about Charles’ reaction to Edwin’s confession on the steps of Hell –

People-pleasing Charles – who only feels like a ‘good person’ when he is keeping spirits up and protecting the people he cares about, Edwin most of all – can’t bring himself to respond to Edwin’s confession directly. Initially, Charles cannot bring himself to say “I don’t share those feelings,” because he knows it would hurt Edwin. And hurting Edwin is so antithetical to who he is and wants to be as a person, especially in this moment when Edwin is so vulnerable, when Charles has just seen, for the first time, the torture he had to endure in Hell.

So he compares them to Orpheus and Eurydice. He is trying, in this very stressful moment, to get Edwin to understand, “I love you as much as Orpheus loves Eurydice. I love you enough to risk my entire existence to come down to Hell to get you. No one and nothing could stop me. That is how much I love you.”

And I love Edwin’s response!! Because Charles just compared them to romantic couple, but that doesn’t matter to Edwin if they don’t get out of Hell together. He was serious when he told Charles that he didn’t have to feel the same way. Not being with Charles is the worst possible outcome to Edwin and that is what he focuses on – not the romantic comparison – but the tragic ending.

Charles again tries to avoid addressing Edwin’s confession. When he says he never finished the story, he has this little smile and I’m not actually sure if he is being truthful, or if he does know the story and is trying to make a little joke, but either way, he is trying to tell Edwin, “The important part of the comparison is the strength of love in the story, not how the story ended.”

But Edwin seems even more upset by his answer, his little joke. (I do wonder if it was Crystal pointing out that Charles hides his pain behind a smile that made Edwin push Charles to give him an actual response, or if he would have done it anyways). “I’m being quite serious,” he tells Charles.

And I think Charles realizes that his non-answer is hurting Edwin anyways. He realizes that Edwin needs to know how Charles feels, even if it risks letting Edwin down. And I love Charles’ response:

You, Edwin Payne, are my best mate. That will never change. You are the most important person in the world to me. There’s no one else, no one else, that I would go to Hell for. And we’ve got, and we’ve got literally forever to figure out what the rest means.

These are all very strong, very certain words. He is basically certain about three things:

Edwin is and will always be his best friend.

Charles would risk everything to save Edwin. No one else, just Edwin.

They will be together forever.

Compare that to his line, “And I can’t really say that, like, I’m in love with you back.” There’s uncertainty there! The words “really” and “like” are used as qualifiers, which are words that limit the meaning of another word/phrase. He is softening his words. And telling Edwin “I can’t really say…” is not the same as “I’m not...”, right? “I’m not in love with you back” says,“ I know what I’m feeling and it’s not romantic love.” But “I can’t really say,” communicates, “I do feel something, and in this moment I’m labeling that feeling as not ‘in love’ but that label might not be accurate.” As Jayden Revri said, he leaves it open.

Then he ends by saying they have forever to figure out what the rest means, as long as they get out of Hell – bringing his reassurance back to what Edwin had been concerned about – that they escape Hell together and will be together forever. Okay, lots of thoughts – just had to share!

Ahhhhhh, I just love Charles.

[prettycopperpennies]

They Take Care Of/Comfort You When You're Sick

Anonymous asked:

Could I request a Squid Game preference (with the usual characters) where the reader has a cold/fever or something and they take care of them, or vice versa?

Squid Games x GN!Reader

Including: The Frontman/Player 001/Hwang In-ho | Player 230/Thanos/ Choi Su-bong | Player 388/Kang Dae-ho | Player 333/Lee Myung-gi | The Recruiter

The Frontman/Player 001/Hwang In-ho

~Hwang In-ho would hear the sniffles when you called asking for a favor and he would immediately check in on you

~”Darling are you alright?”

~Even over the phone he would be able to clock you were sick before you asked him to bring you cold medicine

~You could tell him all you wanted not to worry, to just bring it whenever he was free, but he would drop everything to come over. As he showed up within half an hour you would know he had done just that

~You could try to apologize or insist he didn’t need to go out of his way for you. You could have waited till he was free

~But as he tucked a hair behind your ear, your guilty resolve would quickly melt away

~He would mean every word, and wouldn’t hear anything against it. You can’t keep him away when you need help. Even if the situation is as lowkey as a simple cold

~”How do you expect me to get anything done when I know you’re here suffering?”

~If you warned him you might get him sick, he would still keep the same attitude: insisting he wanted to be there for you

~Every soothing smile and gentle hand on your back, arm, shoulder would weaken your argument. You both knew you wanted him to stay

~You would end up asleep in his arms, your head resting on his shoulder

~And he would be happy to pamper you through your cold

Player 333/Lee Myung-gi

~He would notice your red nose and fever flushed cheeks and would immediately feel a little tug on his heart

~No matter how much you insisted he should stay away because you didn’t want to get him sick, he would be able to tell you really didn’t mean it. He knew you well enough to be able to clock when you didn’t want to be left alone

~You two would end up on opposite ends of the couch, as a feeble attempt to keep himself healthy, playing video games

~But thanks to your cold your mind would be too foggy to really focus, and after the millionth time losing at Mario Kart you would finally quit

~You’d make him change the video game over and over again, not liking how much energy each took. He’d go along with it, not complaining. 

~You had no idea the amount of power you had on him at that moment. He wouldn't be able to say no to anything you wanted, feeling too bad for how miserable you seemed thanks to your cold

~It would be awhile before you admitted you actually wanted to sit and watch him play something instead

~As time would go on, he wouldn’t be able to ignore your sad, sick state from the other side of the couch. You would finally notice his state when he sighed loudly. You could ask him what was wrong, but he would only answer by pulling you onto his lap.

~”You’ll get sick.” “Yeah, I know.”

~You’d smile as he rested his head atop your own and wrapped his arms around you to keep playing the video game.

~If he noticed you getting at all amused by him finally caving, he would of course have to defend himself

~”You were sitting there looking miserable! It’s emotional blackmail.”

Player 230/Thanos/ Choi Su-bong

~Choi Su-Bong would come and get you the second you called, no matter where you were or what he was doing.

~He couldn’t be able to stop himself from getting anxious when you first called; sniffling, telling him you feel awful, and you need a ride

~He would show up in a matter of minutes. It would be so quick you could only presume he had sped to get to you. Of course, you’d already be feeling better as he smiled at you from the driver’s seat through the front window

~If you apologized, explaining you didn’t feel good enough to drive or didn’t want to take the bus, but he would shut that down immediately

~”Baby, I’ll come get you whenever.”

~He’d hold your hand the whole ride. It didn’t matter if he was driving with one hand or two, he wouldn’t ever signal (it was an argument you two had a million times). So you would let him intertwine his fingers with your own as you two would make it home

~He would of course make a pit stop along the drive at your guilty pleasure bakery. He would keep the car running after noticing your shivering so you could keep the heat going as you waited for him to come back

~Within minutes you would have a bag of baked goods on your lap as the two of you went home

~If you want medicine you’d have to remind him to grab that along the way too. Su-bong wanted to help you feel better, but the logical approach is not necessarily at the front of his mind

~If your cold got to you, and suddenly you were tearing up over how nice he would find it amusing. You would be met with a large smile and a laugh

~”You’re weepy when your sick”

~After some lighthearted teasing he’d wrap a hand around the base of your neck to bring you in for a kiss. You’d try to warn him, but he’d of course say he didn’t care

~And you both would spend the next few days getting over a cold together

Player 388/Kang Dae-ho

.

~Kang Dae-ho would come over the second you called asking for his company while you tried to get over your cold

~”I think I’m getting sick. Maybe… Do you think you could come over? I don’t want to be alone.”

~He would be at your place even before you hung up, which wouldn't surprise you even a little. What would surprise you even less is the arm fulls of cough drops and the tea he brought with him

~You wouldn’t have a chance to get out of bed before he was wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You would be lifted up a little bit as he tightened his grip around you and dropped his head into the crook of your neck

~”You definitely have a fever”

~Your close proximity would let him feel the fever radiating off you. He wouldn’t care though, immediately following up the hug by telling you to scoot over

~He would wrap an arm around your shoulder, telling you that you were stuck with him all day

~And he would stay true to his word. He would be hanging around, making you warm/good for you food, watching popcorn movies, and whatever else he could think might make you feel better/distract you

~Every time you reacted to his sweet gestures with even the most miniscule of happiness, he would feel immensely pleased with his efforts and how it was making you feel at least a little better

~And by the time night rolled around you wouldn’t really need to convince him. He’d stay over, more than happy to appease you in your clingy state

The Recruiter

~As soon as he finds out your sick he’d be showing up to bring you to his house

~He’d find it very amusing if you warned him you would definitely get germs all over his house. He would point out you did get in his car, so how worried could you really be?

~Either way, warnings or not, you would end up on his couch buried under blankets with your guilty pleasure tv show playing

~He would be lounging on the other side of the couch, his arm resting across the back, and biting back a smile as he pretending not to notice how often your gaze wandered over to him

~He knew how clingy you could get when you were sick, but he couldn't help but wonder if you would admit it yourself if he was patient enough

~And eventually you would mention you were cold, and he would offer more blankets or to turn up the heat. You’d give excuses for every offer till he would finally ask you flat out if you had anything specific in mind

~As you refused to cave with a sniffle and a “I guess not”, he would be the one to fold. He couldn't watch you suffer through a cold and pout on the other side of the couch

~He’d be pulling you over to cuddle, letting you bury him in your blankets as well, with an amused chuckle over how you absolutely did not fight it

~”But you don’t want me to get sick, right?”

~If you feigned innocence or pretended not to hear him over the tv show, he wouldn’t call you out further. He wouldn't’ have it in him to argue with you (even playfully) when you feel so under the weather

[from-the-owls-nest]

mhm. what if you're too broken, in too tiny pieces, even the base too shattered to rebuild from. what if there's too little good left.

*swallow* that... that probably wasn't the most helpful answer. but I know what you mean. and I don't really have a fix or anything.

*drily, like, ironically* should probably clarify that the you in that first sentence meant me and just me. so. before you get any more ideas. because of course for Me that's Different! At least for my chaos brain tangles.

[ooc: Philosophy Below. idk brain ran away with thoughts call me if u find it /silly]

*silence, thinking over the words again* I don't know. All I can hope is that - that sentence from the movie Aria likes. When we can see no future, all we can do is the next right thing. the next little ray of sunlight. the next little moment of peace.

And if none of that is possible... Wait, and hold on, and look for them, and hope they come back soon. This is just my thoughts - my little agreement with myself. I gotta try the best I can, even if the best I can is a break from trying to recover. And then I'll know that Past Me did their best for me now and that I owe it to Future me to do my best for what they might become. Even if they weren't very successful. Like deciding that however I am right now is me too, and so I am all these things and parts, the good and the rough ones, and they all together make the full me. It's these nice little shortcut across the self blaming and infighting that take a long time to work out but help wherever they hold.

But like. I think I owe it my future self to hold on, and to get through the storms. Our past selves have come such a long way, and who knows where we'll go next, what our future selves and lives might be like. So like. I do think that new paths open up all the time, possibilities. Even if the ones now are all bad, who knows where we can still go. And the only way to find out is to try, and to do our best.

*they pull out their diary, and from the front a little calendar page* Look. I... It's one of these pages I'll keep forever and ever because I need the reminder, and give to others when they might need it. I don't know if it's right. I hope so. and I think the only way to find out is to try and hold on.

For me that's enough. That, little hopes, little good moments, even just the memory of warmth and hope and the knowledge that all that was once can come again - in different forms, maybe, but it can. *turning to lay it next to Will's sneaker*

*more silence* But. Well. That's really big thoughts, and hard to see when everything is so dark. Hm. okay just to throw some thoughts out. You don't have to tell me, you don't have to think about it, just... some ideas. Little windows into that maybe, whenever you're able to look.

what do the voices say? can they maybe be talked to, or be both a little right?

is there anything you wish wouldn't stop? or come back? any little thing. ignore realism and context all that. if you were playing make-believe, your own little world, what would it look like? if you want to we can take turns. I play that game regularly cause, well, bad memory, and i probably should start again.

and... does it have to be a *bad* hurt? like. yes. you're different. stuff happened, and it changed you, and that really really hurt. you might not be the same person as before. is that a bad thing? or, you said nasty. sure. right now it's raw and painful and doesnt fit yet. but... could all these little shards grow back together and become something scarred and mended, and different?

I hope they could. I'd really miss you - not you from before, you however you are right now and however you want to be. Idk doesn't make much sense but - people if they change are still that person, right? just... changed, by a situation or because they got to know themselves better or whatever. Like Butterflies. I'd like to see the next chapter, with you if you want or just knowing there was one for you.

Image Credit @thelatestkate and her website

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[vmpivory]

'cause you're just jealous and possessive.

Ⳋ୧ . heeseung ☆ f!reader / angst(?) + cw. tbh idk, nothing + 0.3k wc + now playing.. toxic till the end by rosé ── ( masterlist! )

you'd driven this route countless times, but tonight, it felt different. you glanced at the rearview mirror, your own tired eyes staring back at you.

then you saw him. lee heeseung. his thumb raised and his bike that you could recognize easily, on the ground. you slowed the car, the screech of tires on the pavement slicing through the quiet night.

you shouldn't have. you shouldn't have stopped there, shouldn't have helped him go home, shouldn't have let that asshole and his broken bike in your car. but you did. ─ more under cut!

"need help?" you asked, rolling down the window just enough to let your voice escape but not enough to make it easy for him to see you fully. you were a mess, well, at least you thought so. but why should you cared anyways?

"yeah" he leaned down slightly, looking through the small gap in the window. "my bike's broken, and my phone's dead. can you give me a ride home?"

you hesitated. you wanted to keep driving, to leave him and his stupid bike. but you found yourself unlocking the door for him. "get in before i change my mind"

heeseung gave a faint smile, slid the bike into the passenger seat and settled in to cars front seat.

“what’s your address?” you didn't know why you asked that. you knew where he lived, you've been there a million times. he explained a location you recognized. you let out a quiet sigh, nodding as if you had a choice.

after a while you started driving, he tapped his fingers lightly against the window frame. “thanks,” he muttered after a while. when you didn't say anything back, he sighed and continued, "still mad at me, huh?"   "what did you think? of course i am dumbass!" he didn't respond after that. maybe it was the way you called him 'dumbass' or that he couldn't come up with a sarcastic response. "you know," heeseung said, breaking the silence "i didn't meant things to end with that and get so-" "please just.. don't." you were too tired to deal with this again. it was always the same conversation again. "i don't want to hear it. i don't need your excuses. i've listened to the same story over and over again and i'm tired of it. admit it, hee, you're just jealous. possessive. and honestly, i'm impressed at how long you've kept it up." "you called me hee."  "shut up, i meant heeseung."

.vmpivory    ©    all rights reserved    ━    2025

AHHH FIRST FIC OF 2025!!! actually i wrote this so long ago but didnt have time to proofread and stuff lol. anyways enjoy <333

TAGLiST: @woniesprincess @orimuraa @heeaara

[loveanddeepsecrets]

They say three’s a crowd…

Synopsis- How Zayne and Caleb would one up each other when all three of you reconnect

tags: headcanon, jealousy; angst, no comfort :’( mostly gn, but some hcs imply an afab+ fem! reader

I don’t know if the LI’s will ever officially interact with each other in-game, but if they did, this is how I’d imagine Caleb and Zayne’s relationship dynamic

I’d imagine they’d make jabs at each other based on time spent vs time lost and sometimes using their own expertise as leverage. They’re both quite decorated in carriers especially being so young. Both try very hard to keep things amicable. They’re alike in many ways, and the feeling of responsibility to care for you is no exception…

- When you’re sad, Zayne would try lending a listening ear but before he can respond, Caleb chimes in with just the right words and inside jokes to make you smile again.

- When you’re getting ready for dinner, Caleb would be in the kitchen preparing your old favourites, then Zayne hovers over advising the best food substitutes as he reminds Caleb of your heart condition.

- When you’re suddenly feeling under the weather, Zayne would have you lay down and go to fetch a blanket, but Caleb steps, pillows and a blanket in hand explaining that you always need 3 pillows and a fuzzy blanket to help you fall asleep on sick days. He follows up with turning on the TV and choosing your two’s favourite comfort movie.

- On an afternoon stroll in the park, you’d stop and admire the blue hydrangeas, leading you and Caleb to reminisce about the many summers spent together. Zayne would then passively recall that one summer day all three of you spent at the florist shop and mentions the bushes he has of the same blue hydrangeas in his backyard (did anyone else clock that?!) and invites you to pick your own bouquet on your way back.

- At the start of your picnic, you pull out an apple and excitedly ask Zayne to show you how he peels it in one go. While he does this, Caleb examines the species of apple and goes on about how sweet and thoughtful you were to bring his favourite. He then remembers the exact orchard your class field trip went to when he first tried that specific Asiatic apple, and says he’ll take you there to go apple picking come autumn.

- On snow days, you’d sometimes visit the ski lodge. Caleb being a natural athlete, picks up on it pretty quickly. He hates to see you struggle, so he has the both of you back onto the small slopes. Zayne later passes by holding his and your snowboard, saying something along the lines of “That should be enough training for today. We did come here to have fun, and it would be hard to do that if you’re already sore from just one activity.” He’d then invite you to ride the ski lift to test if you still remember everything “Coach Zayne” taught you.

- During your cycle, Zayne would recommend and demonstrate the best stretches and positions to alleviate cramps, only for Caleb to walk in and insist the stretches he learned were the better alternative. Further explaining that he learned them from his fem colleagues during training for the Farspace Fleet.

- On one night with a vivid sky illuminated by the full moon and bright stars, the three of you lay on the grass searching for constellations. Caleb would share memories of the first time you two saw Orion’s Belt under the glass ceiling in grandma’s attic. Zayne stretches his arm out to you and suddenly feels the cool jade pendant he carved and begins to recall how beautiful the moon was the night he gave it to you. He then says a full moon is another one of the many things that remind him of you.

A/N: I often thought abt Zayne while completing Caleb’s story. I wondered if Caleb felt jealous at all when Zayne and MC reunited, and it led me to think about how all three of their relationships might have changed now that they’re adults. It actually hurt writing this bc they both deserve the kind of love they have with MC :(

***If anyone who actually writes, decides to make a real fic from this pls tag me so I can read it! I’m not a writer, so I’m limited to little blurbs like these

Dividers

Artwork

[br0nzefox]

I have a lot of thoughts about the murder family.

Don’t get me wrong I wish Abigail could have had a happy ending and I do think the idea of the murder family is super sweet. However realistically I don’t think it would’ve been good for Abigail. It just could not have ended well.

First up even if Abigail hadn’t been killed in Mizumono and somehow Will, Hannibal and Abigail ended up on the run together as a family it wouldn’t have lasted long. Sooner or later (probably sooner rather than later knowing them) Will and Hannibal would’ve gotten into a fight. Because that’s just how their relationship is - unstable, volatile and explosive. And sooner or later in one of their fights Hannibal would’ve let his impulses get the better of him - he would’ve wanted to hurt Will. And Abigail would’ve been a perfect tool for that. So even if Abigail had survived Mizumono I don’t think she would have survived long after.

Next up Will and Hannibal are both very possessive and very jealous men. It was basically outright stated that Hannibal doesn’t want Will to have anyone in his life except Hannibal. And based on how obsessed Will is with Hannibal, how he keeps coming back to him I’d say it’s a fair assumption that once he leaned into his dark side fully he would be just as toxic as Hannibal. And in that tight bond they share, among the obsession, and possessiveness, and jealousy, and greed, and gluttony they feel for each other, there would be no room for Abigail.

And adding on to my previous point Abigail is not like Will and Hannibal. She would never have been able to understand or accept or see them the way they both crave to be seen. Abigail tolerates violence because she has to, but she does not enjoy it. Not how Will and Hannibal do. Because it’s not in her nature. She is not the same kind of beast as Will and Hannibal. And not even Hannibal would’ve been able to change that, to change her nature (he only changed Will because Will was already a monster from the beginning. Hannibal never changed Will he only brought out into the light what was already there). Hannibal would become disappointed, and ultimately bored of Abigail. And Hannibal easily throws away his old toys once they are no longer entertaining. He would not have needed her anymore once he got close enough to Will and once Will leaned into his dark side. And once Abigail would stop being entertaining he would discard her.

And after Will takes off his person suit I simply don’t think he would really care for Abigail anymore. A big part of why he cared for her in the first place was out of feeling responsible for killing her father and of his desire for a family. Hannibal fulfils Will’s desire for companionship and family. And after fully giving into his darkness Will would have let go of the guilt and responsibility he felt for killing Garett Jacob Hobbs. So he would have no reason to care for Abigail anymore.

Finally while I do think Hannibal and Will are capable of love, and they do love each other, they do not love Abigail. And Abigail does not love them either. She depends on them for survival and for protection but she does not love them. And a real family is impossible without love. Abigail’s relationship with Will and Hannibal would be that of a captive and their captors. It would’ve been exactly like the scene @patchouii mentioned: The scene where Will says to the team “You bond with your captor, you survive. You don’t, you’re breakfast” immediately cuts to Hannibal making Abigail breakfast. So even if Abigail managed to survive Will and Hannibal, even if she got a thrill from that survival (like that one post mentioned), she would not have been happy with them. She would face every day as if it were her last, it would be tiring and exhausting and worst of all it would’ve been exactly how it had been with her father. She would never be able to heal, she would never be able to overcome her trauma. She would never be able to get away from her past, she would never be able to get away from her father. It would have been a life worse than death. Her quick death in Mizumono was far more merciful.

Realistically it was probably one of the best case scenarios. I would even argue it would have been kinder to Abigail if Hannibal had simply killed her when he was framing Will instead of keeping her as this messed up, twisted gift for Will like a cat bringing you a half-dead mouse it hasn’t fully killed yet.

Thank you to @patchouii for giving me the idea and the inspiration for this post in their reblog of my previous post on Hannibal’s and Will’s and Abigail’s relationship.

[nor-ay]

Unrequited Love Reader and Pure Vanilla Angst bc I’ve been sad these days. (Not canon to the main story.)

The moon is captivating, you think. How it shines and covers you with its light as if it were the critic and you the performer. You feel like you’re trapped on a stage. And no matter how you try to divert the narrative, someone always finds a way to put you back in your role. And you suppose that you’re not in the wrong. You are in Shadow Milk Cookie’s domain, after all. The need to be comforted fills your heart as a tear falls down and wets your cheek, clinging to your chin.

You smell the faint scent of vanilla before you hear him talk. “[Name] Cookie, oh, I am so sorry to interrupt, but I can’t help but worry about you. You’ve been acting a bit…” 

You’re a bit annoyed, no, scratch that. You’re really pissed off. Your mind can’t comprehend what’s his deal. Pure Vanilla Cookie is someone who cares about his friends and people. He’s kind, empathetic and lovely. But at what point does he help because he really feels like it? Or he just does it out of duty? Is he always genuine? 

“Why are you asking, Pure Vanilla Cookie? What would you do if something was wrong?” He seems surprised by your tone but doesn’t comment on it. It takes him a good minute to answer, calm and firmly. 

“I would do anything in my power, you do know that, right? You are my friend, my old friend, you can count on me.” 

Shaking your head, you smile, but it feels like a grimace. Of course, you knew he was going to say that. He always says the same things, just in different fonts. You know that it shouldn't hurt you; you’re feeling like this because you are allowing it. At least, that is what you think. “That’s so cruel…you can’t say that you’d do anything and then just call me a friend.” 

“Pardon me? [Name] Cookie,” His eyes are open now, and you can’t look at him, so you convince yourself that the floor is more beautiful. “You would do the same, is that right? You told me…” 

“Ugh, let's stop dancing around this topic,” Frustration and anger flares up and helps you ignore the uncomfortable dread in your body. “I told you that because I did not mean it as just a friend. I love you, but right now, I hate you a bit for it.”

You finally look at Pure Vanilla Cookie, and his face is just so pretty that it makes you feel sickly. He’s not looking at you. “I am terribly sorry…but I can’t—“ With furrowed brows and a hoarse voice, he tries to reject you as softly as possible.

“I understand, you don't have to reject me. I was just stating it.” You can’t hear him finish that sentence. Somehow, it feels like if that thought materializes, I’ll turn true. And you so foolishly try to keep some hope for your heart.

“…[Name] Cookie,” For the first time since he found you, he approaches and holds both your hands. “I’m not very good at this. But thank you for telling me. And- we can still be friends If that’s…what you want?” 

You agree and reassure him that nothing will change and that soon this feeling will go away. Bizarrely enough, you think that it may happen sooner than you’d expect.

It’s been a while! As I said, I’ve been struggling a bit these days but I’m better. Please feel free to share your opinion on this fic as long as it’s respectful. And no, this is not canon. In the main story, the reader does not confess to Pure Vanilla. Maybe someday.

[letmereedusyou]

i'm not yours - part 9

summary: Daryl and you are friends. He dated Leah. You told him you loved him and things fell apart. Will it ever go back to normal?

Daryl keeps looking for the clues connecting anyone to your beating incident, and you try to fix his vinyl player while he's out of the house. When he comes back you have a sweet conversation and finally go back to being friends again.

words: 2.8k

warnings: swearing, mentions of killing (walkers and people)

A/N: Hello, muffins! Here I am with another part. I checked for mistakes 3 times, but it seems okay to me. Again, English is not my first language so the errors will probably occur to the English natives. I can also say already that there are going to be 15 parts to this, so we have 6 parts to go! <3

Read previous part here!

Daryl visited you and took care of you every single day for weeks. It almost felt like nothing had changed between you two; like everything was normal again. But was it really? Or was it just a façade that you two put up so you didn't have to deal with the unresolved issues? You tried not to think about it too much and just enjoyed the fact that Daryl was close again, even though he wasn't very chatty these days. Maybe he's still holding a grudge about your feelings for him, or maybe he just doesn't know how to return to being your friend again. He would bring you new books and some comics to read, so you wouldn't get bored, but boredom got you pretty fast after reading your third book in a week. You started missing movies right about then. You thought about your favourite TV shows and how your family would watch them all together after dinner. Now, all you can do is push through with your memories of it and an incredible imagination.

He would cook for you, usually something simple and quick that you could reheat if you wanted to, before vanishing for entire nights, trying to find out who had beaten you up. You had your suspicions, but you didn't tell him about it. Why? You were scared of what would happen. The information, or rather a clue, would make him go into a fight mode, for sure. You knew him well enough to admit that. So you kept your thoughts to yourself.

That didn't stop him from continuously asking you about the details or anything you remembered from the fight. No matter how many times you told him that it was dark and you didn't see or hear them, as they did not speak, just occasionally grunted while driving their feet into your body. He kept asking and trying to make sense of who would want to do this to you. Your tongue itched with an answer. For you, it was obvious.

You were glad that he was clueless like this. Maybe he just didn't want to believe it or found it hard to create that type of scenario in his head. Maybe it was too much for him to handle right about now. You didn't blame him, he had a lot on his plate as of late - his best friend fell in love with him, his girlfriend broke up with him because of the best friend, and he has chores and duties in Alexandria that he has to do, even if he is tired and doesn't want to, and now he turned into a detective, trying to solve a case - all of it probably making a huge mess in his brain.

You busy yourself with some reading once again, but it was starting to get excruciatingly boring. How many times can you read the same plot in multiple books? Putting it down on the sofa armrest, you suddenly remembered that you still had Daryl's vinyl player that needed to be fixed. That would be a good distraction, you thought and slowly pushed yourself up. The pain was less prominent now, so you could move a little bit better, although Daryl would scold you for even trying. It didn't matter how many times you said you felt fine and walking and moving around didn't hurt much anymore, he dragged you back to the sofa every single time. This time, he wasn't here, so you could freely roam around for a while.

You step into your bedroom and open your wardrobe. Reaching up onto the shelf, you pull the vinyl down, alongside many different tiny parts in a white cloth bag. You also pick up your screwdrivers, glue and anything else you'd need before attempting repair. Once you got everything you needed, you took it to the living room and put it on top of the coffee table. Leaning down, just enough to not feel pain in your ribs, you examined the vinyl player. You were a good tinkerer and you had a good understanding of electronic shit, although the player was old which required some knowledge about old electronics. You didn't have that, but you decided to try anyway.

After hours of fiddling and fidgeting, glueing and trying to pull tiny bits apart and put them back together again, you sigh deeply realising that making that playing vinyl records on this thing is going to need more than just a couple hours of repair. You most definitely will need some help from Eugene, as he is the only person with enough knowledge about this stuff.

After another hour of carefully glueing the tiny, broken bits to the exterior of the machine, you feel drowsy and you close your eyes for a minute, just to rest them. Before you realise it, you start quietly snoring, a screwdriver loosely in your hand. Your mind is blank for the first time since the incident. You feel like you can fully enjoy some sleep. Using your brain for more than reading books was a good idea, after all.

Daryl's head started to hurt about two hours ago when he checked the path you were beaten up on for the bazillion times. He was trying so hard to find out who attacked his best friend that the rage of not knowing was slowly sipping out through his veins. He could've sworn there was a red, hot, bright aura around him.

He went to the place where she was beaten up, thinking that he would get some good clues - maybe a blood trail or some footprints, or maybe a goddamn piece of fabric that was tugged off of the aggressor's clothes, but whoever did this was smarter than that and cleared everything within a couple of miles radius, making sure that there was no way to track them. He felt impressed at how meticulously they'd worked to cover the tracks, but most of all he felt helpless and angry.

It's been weeks since he started looking and Y/N wasn't much help. She kept saying it was too dark to see and she didn't catch a glimpse of any of the people. It didn't help that they hadn't spoken during the fight either, because maybe if they did, Daryl could've track them by the tone of their voice, questioning everyone in Alexandria one by one. But since there were no clues, he had a hard time finding anything. It bothered him to the point he kicked and punched an innocent tree a couple of times.

He finally decided that it was time to go back and check on his best friend. He wasn't going to find anything anyway, so he may as well use his time to help her recover and get on their feet again. Frankly, helping her recover helped him relax, even after the hardest of days. He didn't speak much around her, his mind still recalling the fact that she was indeed in love with him, but he tried to move past it as best as he could. Nothing was more important than her getting better right now.

Besides catching the people who did this to her, and potentially beheading them.

When he opens the doors, the sound of her snoring comes to his ears and he can't help but huff a half laugh at it. He remembers the countless times they went on supply runs and her snoring attracted walkers to their location. He never told her about it, he just took care of the walkers silently.

He takes his crossbow off his back and leans it against the wall before walking into the living room. He stops in his tracks for a second when he sees what lies on the coffee table in front of her.

The vinyl player.

The same one that ended up being chucked out of the window by Leah when they had a fight a few weeks ago.

His brow furrows as he steps closer to the table. He realises that she must've been present when he and Leah had a fight. Has she heard them? What exactly did she hear? How did she end up at his house that evening? How did she get the vinyl player and why would she take it?

He looks at her, asleep with a screwdriver in her hand. She looks peaceful. The bruises on her face faded a little, changing colour from purple and reds to blues and greens. The cut on her lip was healing nicely, a scab was drying out. Her hair looked messy, brought up in some sort of ponytail, where many different strands were sticking out from the sides of her head.

He looks at the vinyl player again and takes another step closer. He wasn't paying attention to where he was stepping, in his confused and surprised state, and his boot kicks the coffee table, making one of the tools roll off and fall to the floor with a clash.

It wakes her up with a jump, and she rubs your eyes a little, trying to make her vision less blurry.

"Daryl?" her voice sounds groggy and faint.

"How did you get my vinyl player?" Daryl asks with no hesitation, the urgency in his voice is enough to make her come to her senses.

She looks at the coffee table and her eyes widen a little, like she was surprised to see the vinyl player too. But no, it wasn't surprise, it was... embarrassment. Like she got caught doing something she shouldn't. She keeps looking at the vinyl player and he can see her cheeks flush and uncertainty flashing across her face. She was definitely feeling the need to escape from the situation, but she knew there was no escape. All she could do was face it.

"I...I found it on the ground," her voice is quiet. When she looks at him, he knows the answer to the questions yet to come, but felt like he must ask them.

"Found it on the ground?"

"Yes."

"Where exactly did you find it?"

"Outside your house," she says, avoiding his gaze. Her cheeks burn a deeper shade of red.

"When?"

"If you are asking me if I've heard you and Leah fighting, then yes. I have," she says; a sigh escapes her lips.

The silence was deafening for good couple of minutes. Daryl decided to take a seat next to her, staring at the vinyl player. She stayed quiet, looking at it as well. He was trying to figure out how to ask more questions; how to prod about what she's heard... what she knew. His hand reaches towards the platter, dragging his fingers on top of it, feeling the cracks.

"I haven't heard much," she finally breaks the silence and he looks at her. "I left pretty much straight away."

"But you've heard something," he says slowly.

"Yeah," she licks her dry lips. "Is it worth getting into it?"

He thinks about her question. Is it? Is it worth it? Does he really need to know what she heard? It wasn't that important, Leah and him are over now. But part of his brain believed it was crucial to know. He needed that information, needed to know how much she knows...

"Yeah," he says slowly. "I want to know."

"Well, I've heard her screaming about me..." she starts carefully, biting the inside of her cheek. "Something about me knowing more than her."

Daryl looks at her for a second, maybe trying to gauge her reaction to it, or maybe he was trying to focus on anything else than Leah's words echoing through his mind. He knew that she indeed knew more than Leah, more than anyone ever. He felt the most comfortable sharing with her. He remembers all the times he opened up and it felt great to be heard and listened to, probably the first time in his entire life. Somehow, he knew she was the right person to tell things. Trustworthy.

Back at the CDC, when he first opened his mouth to share, he was nervous. What if she judged? But all of this melted away when she sat there, listening, nodding, not asking questions, just soaking the information in. Maybe it was the alcohol in his veins, but it made him want to open up even more, get the stuff off his chest. Once he finished, it felt... cathartic. Like he was lighter.

He looks up to her eyes.

"I also heard her saying that... you're not worth it," she added and looked away. He could sense her anger in the words spoken, spitting them out like they were acid on her tongue.

"Mm," he murmured quietly, looking away from her and at his boots. He doesn't get embarrassed very easily, and yet his cheeks seemed to burn a little.

Again, the silence resounded in the house, you could almost hear the buzzing of electricity from one of the lamps. Daryl couldn't look up. Leah's words seemed to be burned into his mind, slowly making him believe he is not worth anything. He started to believe he doesn't deserve good things in life.

"It's not true. Leah was wrong," she says, putting her hand on his knee and squeezing it tightly.

"And you say that as a person who's in love with me?"

"I'm saying it as your best friend," her words hit him like a tone of bricks and he finally looks up at her, eyebrow raised. "You are worth so much."

Daryl wants to believe her. No, he needs to believe her. For his sake, for the sake of his mental stability. He takes a few deep breaths and and then looks down at her hand on his knee. His hand gently places over hers and he squeezes it lightly. Her reassurance was everything. You could say the only opinion he cared about these days was her, even though they haven't been great friends for awhile.

He beats himself up for not reaching out sooner. He hated he fact he's lost her for so long, and lost himself in the process. She loves him. Yes, it is more than a friend, but ultimately, she loves him. For who he is. She never judged, never tried to change him or push him to do things he didn't enjoy. She's one person he always felt comfortable with. He still does, even after she told him she loved him.

He thinks back to the time and thinks about why he was so angry at her for that. She wasn't making moves at him. She just... shared her feelings. Angrily - that was an understatement - but still. He sort of understood why she'd blow up the way she did. He spoke about Leah quite a lot and thinking about it now, it may have been to convince himself and her that he was happy with her and he did love her. Part of him did love Leah. But maybe it wasn't as strong feeling as he thought it was...

"You okay?"

Her voice brings Daryl back. He huffs and nods lightly.

"Yeah. I will be," he says and his lips curve into a smile.

"I mean it, Daryl. You're worth it. And I hope you do find someone who appreciates you," her little smile makes him scoff.

"Someone like you?" he retorts.

"No," she shakes her head vigorously. "Not me. You made it clear it's never going to happen and I accept it. But I hope you find someone who can make you believe you are worth everything and more."

Daryl looks at her with a grimace on his face. He did say that, didn't he? He said that her and him will never going to happen. For some reason, her words made him feel sad, just for a second. He wouldn't have been able to register it if he wasn't focusing on it that much. He shakes his head.

"I've sworn off love and relationships," he leans back on the couch and put his head on the sofa back. "It's just going to be me, my crossbow and my best friend."

"Your best friend?"

Her smile beams from ear to ear and Daryl can't help but notice the shine in her eyes when he said it. Like she wasn't sure if he was serious about it. Like she waited months for him to come back, to finally be her friend again.

"Of course. Can't live my sorry ass life without ya," he sighs. "Who else am I going to tease and laugh at?"

"You mean laugh with?"

"That too."

She giggles and he realises how much he really missed her all these months. He missed her laugh and their banter. The way he felt so free around her. The way he knew she could tell him she killed someone and he would help her cover up the tracks. She was his best friend. And going back to being friends with her felt good.

[letterstoalonewolf]

Dead Man’s War (Playlist Series)

Jasper Hale x Reader

Summary: Jasper has spent lifetimes haunted by the weight of his past, but it’s not just his scars that linger—it’s the ghost of Maria and the war she left inside him. When Y/N looks at him, she doesn’t see the dead man he’s always been; she sees the man he could be. But to truly be hers, he has to decide if he’s ready to lay his past to rest.

Based on the song: Dead Man by David Kushner

───────────────────────────────

You make me not feel like a man

Keep throwin' stones for a while you can I know myself and who I am There are stories in these callused hands That, not a soul will ever hear

Jasper’s hands trembled slightly as they hovered over Y/N’s waist, hesitant, reverent. Even after all this time, after all the battles fought and won, after the eternity they were promised together, there were moments when the past came back like a phantom whisper, dragging him under.

Y/N sensed it before he spoke. She always did.

“You’re thinking about her again,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, but steady. There was no accusation, no jealousy—only understanding.

Jasper exhaled sharply, nodding. “It’s not what you think.”

Her fingers, soft and deliberate, traced the lines of his palm. The scars were invisible now, hidden beneath the illusion of unmarred skin, but she knew where they were. Knew the stories woven into them, even the ones he hadn’t spoken aloud.

“I know.”

Jasper swallowed, his throat tight. She did know. That was the problem.

He could never lie to her—not about this.

I'm the dead man in this war

But, baby, I've been here before There's beauty hidden in the gore Yeah, I'm the dead man in this war

He had spent years carving his name in blood, bending knee to Maria’s ruthless rule, shaping his soul into something unrecognizable. He had been her weapon, her executioner, and she had wielded him like a blade.

Jasper had believed he was strong, unbreakable. He had convinced himself that the killing, the brutality, was his purpose—that it was the only way to survive.

But Maria had never wanted a man. She had wanted a soldier. A machine.

And Jasper had become exactly that.

The memory was a brand against his consciousness, seared into him like the heat of the Texan sun. The way she had whispered orders in his ear, how her lips would curve in satisfaction every time he delivered death at her command. How she had called him mi vida while tightening the chains around his soul.

And how he had let her.

Y/N’s fingers curled against his jaw, bringing him back to the present, back to her. “You don’t have to carry her with you forever, Jasper.”

His golden eyes met hers, darkened with something raw, something fragile.

“I don’t know how not to.”

She didn’t offer empty reassurances or pretty lies. Y/N wasn’t the type to promise that wounds healed if you just waited long enough. Some scars weren’t meant to fade.

But she pulled him closer anyway.

Do you remember September?

Do you remember September? You threw me back into the fire I screamed while your smile was gettin' wider

Maria had found him again that September.

Years after he had walked away. Years after he had thought she was just a specter of his past, a whisper in the wind.

But Maria never let go of her possessions.

She had stepped into his path like a nightmare made flesh, the same dark eyes, the same honeyed venom in her voice.

"You can't change what you are, Jasper. You'll always be mine."

He had felt it then, the ghost of her grip tightening around his throat, dragging him under.

And for a terrifying second, he had believed her.

Jasper had felt the weight of her control creeping back in, the sickly-sweet temptation of power, of purpose, of the war she had built for him. The war he had been made for.

Then Y/N had stepped between them.

She had stared Maria down with a quiet kind of fury, the kind that didn’t need to be loud to be lethal. The kind that spoke of unwavering belief, of knowing exactly who Jasper was beneath the blood, beneath the past.

"He's not yours."

It had been Y/N’s voice that pulled him back, not the ghosts of old loyalties or the chains of the past.

She had looked at him—not with fear, not with doubt, but with something Maria never had.

Faith.

And Jasper had chosen.

Wait on, wait on

Give me back my old salvation

Y/N was salvation in a way Jasper had never known.

Not because she tried to erase what he had done. Not because she pretended he was anything less than what he was.

But because she saw all of him—and still stayed.

She ran her fingers over the planes of his face now, tracing the sharp edges softened only by her touch.

“You don’t belong to her,” Y/N whispered. “You never did.”

Jasper’s lips parted, something aching and desperate pressing against his ribs. “I did once.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “But not anymore.”

She kissed him then—soft and slow, a promise in the way her lips molded against his.

A reminder that he was here.

That he wasn’t the dead man Maria had tried to make him.

That he wasn’t a weapon to be wielded.

That he was Jasper Whitlock.

And that he was hers.

I'm the dead man in this war

But, baby, I've been here before There's beauty hidden in the gore

Jasper still carried his past in his bones, in the marrow of who he was. But when Y/N looked at him, she didn’t see a monster.

She saw a survivor.

She saw a man who had learned, who had bled, who had chosen to be more than the war that made him.

And for the first time in more lifetimes than he could count—

Jasper believed her.

➽─────────────❥➽─────────────❥

[starshideurfics]

The Tale of Sir Stephen the Bold

steddie, medieval, demons, enemies to lovers, shapeshifting genitals, mpreg, mdni🔞

Based on this dope woodcut art by @lulalulens which I don’t think is on tumblr

Stephen was born with a mark over his heart. His mother worried it was a bad omen, and when she took him to be baptized, the parish priest reassured her, “It is the sword of Saint Michael. He shall be a warrior of God.”

Stephen grows up strong, devotes himself to God and to the protection of the weak. Sir Jim knights him on the battlefield, proclaims him the best fighter he’s ever trained. Says he can practically see holy light around him when he prays.

Talk of a vicious lindworm poisoning the water in a small town summons Sir Stephen to slay it. He corners the beast and takes its head, presenting it to the village priest, accepting only a blessing as payment.

From there, Sir Stephen follows reports of monsters and demons, saving the smallfolk from their terror. While fighting a demon without a face he saves a young woman—Mistress Robin claims she doesn’t need saving, helping him corner the creature. After that day they are inseparable, the dearest of friends, more like family.

Robin is the one to hear tell of a demon seducing the innocent of Hawkins. He refuses to let her come with him; Kassedemus of the silver tongue is not a trifling matter. Instead he changes the crest on his shield, so he can bring her with him in spirit, but keep her safely away from the creature.

Upon their arrival in Hawkins, Sir Stephen asks where they can find the demon, and a gaggle of children point to the outskirts. He leaves Robin at the inn after she helps him don his armor, and soon enough he feels it.

Temptation.

Desire.

Heat.

Then he sees the creature. Mostly human with wings and horns. A tail. Claws at its hands and feet. And completely naked, heavy phallus hanging between his legs.

Sir Stephen raises his sword, calls out, “Demon! I come to drive you from these lands in the name of Jesu-”

“O, so pious! So chaste! Bold Sir Stephen, here to save the day!” the demon interrupts, advancing slowly, his movements serpentine.

“Quiet, Demon! Before I cut out your tongue!”

“I thought you’d come to cut off my head.”

Shaking ever so slightly, Sir Stephen advances. “Leave these good people be.”

“Now, why would I want to do that? I’ve come here to have fun, clawed my way out of the pit! I will not leave simply because you ask, good sir knight.”

“Then I shall make you leave by force!” Sir Stephen steps closer, holds out his sword, stopping short as the point of his blade touches the creature’s breast. “I shall cast you back down, demon, into the fiery pit-”

“I have a name.”

Sir Stephen flushes. “I know.”

“Say it.”

“Kassedemus.”

“For you, Sir Stephen, I can be Kas.” He sticks out his pointed tongue, leans forward until the sword pierces his flesh, just a nick, black blood welling from the wound. “Won’t you call me Kas, sweet one?”

“I am not sweet!”

Kas sniffs deeply. “You certainly smell sweet. And wet.”

Spine stiffening, Sir Stephen feels heat at his groin. “What have you done to me?” he whispers.

“Looked into your heart. I only wish to give you your desires.” He smiles, glances down toward the codpiece of Sir Stephen’s armor. Which draws the good knight’s gaze down, the demon’s phallus suddenly erect, red and swollen, the head leaking.

Sir Stephen drops his sword. “I don’t… I do not want…”

“O, but you do.” Kas leans closer, reaches out to trace a clawed finger down Sir Stephen’s cheek. “You long for a rough touch. To be held down.” He’s close enough now to lick along the same path as his finger. “You long to be fucked.”

Eyes squeezed shut, Sir Stephen shivers, shakes his head. “I will not be tempted to sin.”

“Is pleasure a sin? Is love?”

“This is not love.”

“It could be. Give yourself to me, Stephen, and you will know nothing but the purest devotion.” Then Kas kisses him hard on the mouth, long tongue slithering inside, licking into his throat and making him choke. He smiles as he pulls back, looking on him with such love in his wide eyes. Such want. “Say you are mine.”

Gasping, Sir Stephen feels his own cock twitch, his heart pounds in his chest. He wants so terribly, he feels on fire with need. “I am yours,” he whispers, suddenly feeling cool wind over his skin. He looks down, sees that his armor and all his clothes are gone. His cock stands at attention, dwarfed by Kas’s turgid member.

Kas reaches down to grasp his smaller cock. “Mine,” he whispers, stroking him roughly, just enough to smear his wetness around. He’s gentle as he presses close, kisses down to Sir Stephen’s collarbones, guides him to the ground. As he places him on all fours. As he licks and nips at the meat of his arse.

Then his tongue licks over his hole. He spits on the tight furl, hot and viscous, and forces his tongue past the tight ring, makes him cry out. Pushes in deeper to press against the spot he knows will drive his knight to the precipice. Swirls the tip of his tongue over it incessantly. Before he can spill, Kas grabs his cods and tugs, pulls his tongue out and smiles at the beautiful mess he’s made. “You will come on my cock, Sweet Stephen, or not at all,” he purrs, moving to line himself up, spitting again on his gaping hole.

“And you will spill inside me?”

“I know that’s what you desire, sweet one. I know you wish to be filled. Bred.” His fingers cover Stephen’s belly. “I know you long for a babe of your own.”

“Can you say it? When you spill. Pretend with me?”

Kas stops short. He guides Stephen up on his knees, turns him di they are facing. “It does not need to be pretend,” he murmurs, stroking his cheek. “I told you, you will have my devotion, all your desires, now you are mine. I can be anything you wish.” He gestures down, his cock gone, replaced by the fat, wet lips of a cunt. “But I don’t think you want that, do you?” He wiggles his fingers, cock returned to its proper place. “You want to be split open. You want me to fill your womb with my seed.” He reaches down again, squeezes Stephen’s cods three times, and then they are gone. Kas leaves his cock, likes it too much, but he needs to carefully open the new cunt.

Laying Stephen down in the soft grass, he settles between his legs and licks at the fresh slit, his saliva mixing with pussy juice soon enough. He smiles again, pleased with his work, cunt red and opened, fat with blood, blooming for Kas. From there, it is easy to push inside the virgin hole, already stretched by his tongue. He rolls his hips, builds a rhythm, murmurs, “My sweet Stephen, so hot and wet and tight for me. Feels good, doesn’t it?” His hips move faster, he can feel himself about to spill. “Do you feel how I burn for you? How I fill you just right? I made your sweet cunt to be my perfect fit.”

“Perfect for you,” Stephen gasps, hips canting up to meet the final thrust.

Kas freezes as his cock pulses. “Mine. My love.” He spills hard and long and hot. “Soon, you will be carrying my child. You will be a beautiful mother.” Leaning down, his kisses his new lover sweetly, the softest one he’s ever given. “I will return for you soon.”

“You’re leaving?” Stephen asks, clinging to Kas, wiping the sweat from his back.

“You wanted me to leave Hawkins.”

“I do not want you to leave me! Not after…”

“I must make preparations. And you must return to your little bird. I do not wish to break your heart.” Kas smiles as he slips from Stephen’s cunt, cock soft. He leans down for another kiss. “I want only your happiness.”

Stephen smiles sweetly up at him, and asks, “Why? Why me?”

“Because you are mine. You have always been mine, Stephen.”

“Always?”

Kas runs a knuckle over Stephen’s heart. Over his birthmark, the jagged shape paler now than when he was a babe. “You bear my sigil.”

“So, does that mean you are mine? You came here for me?”

“Yes, beloved. I am yours, just as you are mine. Always and forever, unto the ending of the world.”

⚔️⚔️⚔️

Sir Stephen returns from the field having banished the demon. He and Robin leave Hawkins, the knight promising to lay down his sword.

Not long after, in a tavern, a smiling man with wild curls approaches the pair. “I’ve missed you,” he says, taking Stephen’s hand. “Are you well, sweet one?”

“I am well,” he answers, smiling just as big.

At the same time Robin asks, “Who are you?”

He sticks out his hand. “Call me Eddie.”

[wolftarotcrafts]

I'm writing this after doing the readings, and this is for people in relationships and situations. If you are looking for the singles, it is on my page or linked below. I also forgot to put in the extras/signs I usually put in, so I'm sorry about that.

I also have more information on my Ko-fi down below.

I'm not going to lie this is a little bit of a heavy one so just keep that in mind. Like after I was done I let out a big sigh. Its not bad I don't want to scare anyone off becasue some of it may not apply to you.

Pile One:

Pile one, I see two scenarios of a relationship and, for others, a situationship. If you are in a relationship, it's fresh and new. I see your past relationships may have been really toxic and not healthy, but you have done the work and really healed. I see that you are now with someone who makes you feel free and strong. For what you can expect, I think it's more change and growth. It's a steady incline, and I think you can expect to get to know one another and really take that time. There is no need to rush. For people in situationships or just talking to people, if the other person is not giving you attention or not putting in as much effort as they should be, I see you now knowing your worth and finding something better. You know you deserve better, and you deserve someone who is going to put in the work, and if this person isn't doing that, then you need to change it up and find someone who will. You know what you want and are manifesting, so don't settle for less.

Pile Two

Pile two, you may have also picked pile one. I think your person doesn't feel the same. They do not feel what you feel for them. I think they just like the attention you give them, but they don't actually care all that much. I feel this is a one-sided relationship/situationship. You need to choose yourself and work on yourself. I think there is someone else out there, and this person isn't for you. You will know if this applies to you because your relationship is just stagnant and nothing is happening. They aren't really returning your affections. You should do some shadow work and self-work. It's time for you to walk away from this situation.

Pile Three:

Pile three I see some of you may be in a fight, or this could be a common fight you and your partner can have often. I see some of you just being stuck in this rut. I see fights can stem from insecurity and jealousy. I think you need to have an honest conversation with your partner and really talk it out. If you want this to work, you have to be willing to have the conversation because you can't avoid it forever. You and your partner may be stubborn, so you need to be brave enough to have these conversations because I see there is love here, so don't let it go. Talk to each other and remember that you are good enough.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My Ko-fi link is here, so if you would like to take a look and support me over there too, that would be amazing! I added a PAC on there for 'what you need to focus on for the month of February.' Another one will be on its way tomorrow.

If you want to put a request for different PAC readings you want to see then feel free to comment them under this other post on my page.

Thank you!

[crystalknuckle]

aww, sif's stretching! that's-- w-waitasec--!? a flame travels up from their point of contact, lightless eyes blown wide to hone on their unreadable (smiling??) face! he almost shivers, for crab's sake!! was it an accident? they aren't pulling away, so!

he reminds himself to breathe. tries not to make the deeeep intake of air obvious as he wills his body to relax again. it, mostly works.

but they're close enough now that, if he really wanted to, their fingers could overlap with the slightest of shifts. a selfish impulse he won't pay aaany mind to, don't worry! this, this is more than okay.

there's a sort of cautious optimism he's choosing to focus on instead. for all they've went through alone (he doesn't want to imagine it, but, for sif, he'd help carry each and every terrible memory), he can actually do something now. without any loops, it's his chance to keep them safe! er, in moderation. he won't go overboard. they're their own person -- strong, too -- they don't need a bodyguard.

it'd be nice, though, if he felt better with isabeau around... and for him to be glad he's...? oh! siffrin did say that!! out loud! just now!

"...wah!? you--!! i... um--!" even if it's the same sentiment as before, this time feels... augh, he's so tangled up in drowsy knots he's forgetting how to use! his! words!

once he's absolutely, positively certain nothing will slip past his censors, he murmurs, "y-yeah. me too," because i'm here with you. nope! can't emphasize that last part again and risk underselling its meaning. another time, if when he works up the nerve to convey it in its entirety. he'd contemplated it before -- all the ways to make it perfect! because that's the sort of confession they deserve -- and this. this isn't it. but he will! someday, when there isn't already so much weighing on their mind.

...eventually, but not tonight.

tonight, as his breathing slows and the stubborn flush of his cheeks becomes yet another source of warmth, he'd rather place the bookmark on a hopeful little cliffhanger. on sif, alive and out of his loops, finally confiding in isabeau, telling him to stay-- not to mention a glow-star sidequest to look forward to!

it's no resolution wrapped in a pretty bow, but!! shuteye would do them both some good. enjoy the peace they've earned and the rest'll come later, right?

...'rest?'

feather-light touch jostled by his involuntary chuckle, the way he subconsciously seeks it out again is nowhere as smooth, he'll admit! in his totally-lucid defense, if he's going to wake up without it, he doesn't want the crumb of contact to break just yet. one last thing to tell them, too, like he has so many nights prior, and -- change god willing to grant him another favor -- many more,

"goodnight, sif...!"

You did like it, you want to say. Or at least you're pretty sure he did. You liked it too. You want to tell him that, but he shakes away any response from you. The want still lingers. You'd borrow words from that night. You'd tell him everything you said, and you'd mean it still. But, again, cheating. Another time, another place. You'll find a way to make it new, to make it mean more.

The hand beside you makes you sick. He's so close so close so close. You don't want him to move. You don't feel you've earned him being anywhere near you. You want him closer. You need to get up and sleep on the floor or something. He's so close. So close. So close!!!!!

You feign sleep. Eye closed. Feign a stretch. He's way too close to feel like you succeed. You do, as you've heard from Mirabelle, a cliché in the books she reads, a move that gets you closer in a way that doesn't feel so purposeful. A stretch, a reach, usually it's around the shoulder but there's no blinding way you're that brave. A stretch that, when completed, has your hand brush against his on the pillow. Close enough. Closer. Closer. It's okay, this is okay. You're so greedy, wanting more. You're so disgusting, not being satisfied. You were holding hands not too long ago, why'd it get harder? Oh, your throat feels tight.

You don't open your eye. You flash a small smile instead. More memories, huh? There were plenty good ones, ones you would bring up now if you had the strength to bear repeating them. He makes it sound like its his job. It isn't. Stars, even this isn't necessary. It's nice, you like this, even if you keep fumbling, but... He doesn't need to do anything for you. This city's big enough, you could very well part ways right after this, he could do whatever he wanted, and you'd just pass by every so often! Haha!!! Wow, what a thought! You don't want that. Greedy. You'd like to think you two could do things together here. Disgusting. But if he wanted that, you'd... it'd be okay. It wouldn't, but you'd let it be. Oh, you want to cry.

He catches you off guard. He means it. Of course he means it. You would never doubt him. He has every reason to doubt you though. Has before, too. He and Odile, always on your back, Mirabelle too but she was too nice not to make it terribly obvious as you fumbled further. Stop it. You're not thinking about them like that. They cared. You know that. You just wouldn't let them.

Will you now?

Hm. It's different now. You're scared. To try. I'm with you, he says. He always has been, hasn't he? I'm with you, I'm with you, I'm with you. You want to echo the sentiment, but you don't know if he'd believe you. Instead, the words just echo ceaselessly in your head. The nicest words to do that in a while.

"I'll remember." The way you say that is... almost too reassuring. Despite everything, you've gotten rather good at that. I don't deserve this, you want to add, but you know he'd just disagree. You're too nice to me, but you know he'd argue, not nice enough! or something of the sort. Urgh. You don't need to predict his next words anymore. You don't need to cater your response for the best possible outcome anymore. You should just say what you feel, right?

"I'm really glad you're here, Isa." There. That was easy, wasn't it? It came so naturally. Maybe you said it before, earlier, whatever. But you mean it more now. You're really glad he's here. A nice thought. Haha, better trapped with your friends this time than alone, right? No. It's a nice thought. You're really, really glad he's here. You won't let yourself twist that in any other way this time.

You focus on your hands, the faint touch that'll probably vanish by the time you wake up. It's nice. You're comfortable, tired even. Like, actually tired. Practically-falling-asleep tired. It's been a long time since you felt that way. That's nice too.

[myreia]

✦ D I S C I P L E O F T H E H A N D

Alchemy for potions. Blacksmithing for repairs. Leatherworking and weaving for mending. She is not an artisan, but the basic skills she has picked up over the years have served her well. Self-sufficiency has always been at the forefront of her mind, and she is pleased that she can keep herself afloat when needed. Besides, crafting is relaxing. A hobby or two here and there is good for her mind. —level 90 compendium

[goldkirk]

Sharing one of the more powerful quotes from this current chapter of The Nazi Seizure of Power: The Experience of a Single German Town, 1922-1945.

The situation, where even heroism was denied the men of the democratic Left, came about in no small part because of the failure of the Social Democrats to understand the nature of Nazism. Just as their basic premise in the years before Hitler came to power was the erroneous assumption that the Nazis were essentially Putsch-ists who could not possibly attract a mass following, so their basic premise after Hitler came to power was the equally erroneous assumption that his would be a government similar to the others of the Weimar period.

The most eloquent document on this was the set of instructions sent out to SPD Locals in District Hanover on March 23, 1933. It was filled with instructions about sending for handbooks on Socialist policy in communal affairs and filling out questionnaires; in short, carrying on business as usual. The only reference to the phenomenon of Nazism was contained in paragraph seven;

Will the election of our village and town representatives be approved? That is a question which is repeatedly being asked. The question is unanswerable because we do not know what this government will do. However, in any case, we must, now as always, select trustworthy comrades as village representatives wherever we have a majority. Should they later not be sworn in, then we will take a position on this. Under no circumstances should we value any of our rights cheaply.

This at a time when SPD leaders were having their houses searched in the middle of the night for weapons! This when the officers of the Reichsbanner were being herded into jail by Storm troopers, beaten in the prisons across Germany, cast into Nazi concentration camps! The SPD, the only defenders of democracy in Germany, the men who should have been gathering guns and calling the general strike, or at least developing an underground with passwords, false names, and other paraphernalia of effective covert resistance, were instead being urged to keep the party files in order, to avoid bookkeeping errors, and above all to purchase the latest pamphlet on parliamentary tactics in village councils.

If the central offices of the SPD did not know “what this government will do,” the local socialist leaders in Northeim soon found out.

(the book goes on to describe the experiences of five Northeim Social Democrats over multiple pages of raids, imprisonment, misery, and persecution)