#not in a 'nobody but me can have them' way but 'i can keep them safest'

[pacofprunes]

thoughts on yandere!dae ho?

i think it fits him sm bc he'd be so needy and jealous 😭

you’re right anon, 110%.

warnings — manipulation, yandere content, jealousy, ptsd mentions, noncon touching, short

yandere! daeho headcanons

yandere daeho who can’t stand to be separated from you, both in and out of the games.

yandere daeho who whenever you need to use the bathroom in the games, he tries to go with you everytime.

yandere daeho who can’t stand when you talk to another guy, let alone look at another guy. always finding an excuse to get your attention. making a loud noise or dropping his food on the floor whenever you’re talking to gi-hun to stop your conversation from going any further.

yandere daeho who clings to you at night like his life depends on it. if anybody even comes near your bed he immediately sits up in case somebody’s trying to kill you. constantly paranoid and on his toes.

yandere daeho who manipulates you. he never realizes that’s what he’s doing, he unintentionally does it. he can’t help it. but so what if he is? he just wants the best for you. always shutting down and going silent if you say you’re going to go talk to gi-hun about something in private. when you ask what’s wrong he says you said it aggressively. says the way you spoke to him was very hurtful, causing you to apologize profusely and hug him tightly. a breath of relief escaping his mouth that you trusted his words and now you’re back in his arms again.

yandere daeho who makes you think you’re going crazy. you’re already in this game of death which is bound to make anybody go crazy, but now he’s twisting his words. saying one thing to you and another to someone else.

“daeho, but that’s not what you said.”

“yes it is. are you sure you didn’t mishear me?” he wants you to rely on him and only trust what he has to say. he wants you to think he’s the only one who has the right answers for you, making himself the only one you ever come to when you have a question or need help.

yandere daeho who over time you start to notice him slowly inching a little closer, his grip getting a little tighter as the days go on, so you decide to say something to him. he does apologize, but it’s only to make you feel bad.

“ah, i’m sorry. i don’t mean to be so clingy. i’ll keep my distance.” and then you’re the one who clings to him, apologizing if what you said came across wrong. telling him that he’s not clingy and that you don’t have a problem with him being so close. he doesn’t pay mind to your words though. only paying attention to the warmth he feels around his body from you before reciprocating the hug you’re giving him back.

yandere daeho who uses his ptsd from being in the marines as an excuse to jump close to you and hold onto you. with every gunshot squeezing tighter and tighter.

yandere daeho who when the lights are out and he slides into bed with you, you ask him to go. you liked him as a friend, you two weren’t a thing, so why was he so close to you? you protest to him but he only pulls you closer, shushing you, saying it’s to keep you safe and that with you in his arms, nobody will try anything throughout the night.

yandere daeho who purposely doesn’t bring the ammo back during their revolt. you’d gotten too close to all those people. junbae, gihun, youngil. if he could let them die and play it off as him being scared, he didn’t care. as long as he had you all to himself. not having to share you with a team, not having multiple people to protect you. no. he wanted to be the only one.

“daeho, what are you doing?”

everybody was dead asleep. you were laying in your bed before feeling a dip and turning to see daeho. he pulls you into his chest.

“i’m just keeping you safe.”

you try to push yourself out of his grips but his biceps just flex and stay wrapped around you.

“uhm, i appreciate the gesture, but uh—”

you gulp and take as big as a breath as you can with the little space that you have between the two of you.

“can you lay somewhere else? there’s just not much space anyways, you know?”

he moves one of his hands to run it through your hair and you shiver. it was a kind gesture, and you liked daeho, but you didn’t want this. he was your friend. nothing more, nothing less. he only squeezes you tighter though.

“don’t worry, i won’t let you fall off the bed. i won’t let you get hurt. i’d take a bullet straight through my head before i ever let a scratch even cover your beautiful skin.”

you just shrink into yourself. shrink into him, knowing that it was futile. he wasn’t harming you, so you guess it was fine for now. you take shallow breaths, your chest hitting his everytime you breathed in from the close proximity. you’d think something like this may help you sleep more but it was only gonna keep you up even longer. but maybe that’s what he was counting on. being who you could lean on and trust to save you while you’re too tired to properly play the games the next morning. you didn’t know. you just furrow your eyebrows together, forcing your eyes shut before feeling his head lean against yours, feeling his lips on your head, spreading into a smile against you.

[hasufin]

"Arguing that you don't care about privacy because you have nothing to hide is no different than saying you don't care about free speech because you have nothing to say."

That's perfect. That's exactly true.

And, you know - the thing about privacy is, I don't have anything to hide until I do. I don't spend every moment of every day doing things I'd rather not be judged for. But you can't have a cutout switch to shut off surveillance only when you'd rather not be watched. That's not privacy, that's a big beacon which screams "Here's the good stuff! He's the salacious, blackmailable material!" Privacy only counts when it's all the time. When "public" is a thing you choose to offer, selected of the bits that you want out there. Anything else isn't privacy at all.

Another matter is, we often conflate two very deeply different meanings of "private", which makes sense because they're both opposites of "public", but in different ways, and they reinforce each other.

See, there's the "private" of "this is not to be seen by the public". It's the privacy of taking a shower. You know I take a shower every day. You know I get naked for it. This is not a secret. But that doesn't mean you get to set up a camera in my bathroom. And you don't get to critique how I shower. You don't get to know what else I do in my bedroom or bathroom. Those are private, not for public consumption. Some you may know, some you may guess at, some you may not ever imagine at all. It's all private.

There's also the private of "This is my choice. It is not for public review and determination." Most of a decade ago I got married. This is a matter of public record. Not only can anyone who looks me and my spouse up know we got married, if the fact of our marriage were not available for public knowledge it would effectively not exist. But our decision to get married was not public. It was a personal - private - decision upon which we did not require the input of anyone else. We did not have to put in a request to our Homeowner's Association, ask permission from the county (beyond the "we are legal adults who are able to enter into this contract" part), our parents couldn't prevent us from getting married, we didn't have to submit to a Board of Moral Behavior for review - it was our decision.

Thing is, the privacy of "Nobody gets to know about this unless we allow it" supports the "Nobody else gets to decide this unless we allow them to". Many abuses of government can be avoided by simply keeping government - and the public at large - from having the information to be judgemental. If you get to control your personal information, you get to control your personal choices. And, conversely, if some other agency controls your personal information, they may be able to exercise control over your personal choices.

[lavenderprose]

Imagine you're Johanna Hezenkoss and your one goal in life is to Be Right All The Time and you've got this sidekick named Emmrich. He can do the whole corpse whispering thing and he's an objectively pretty skilled necromancer but, of course, YOU are Johanna Hezenkoss. And you decide that you like Emmrich enough to drag him along with you to glory. So you spend a few decades doing that. Only Emmrich is six and a half feet of saccharine poetry and fanatical devotion to the core tenants of the Mourn Watch and YOU, Johanna Hezenkoss, are just counting the moments until you can go Beast Mode in this bitch and show everyone what TRUE NECROMANTIC POWER means. So Emmrich weighs you down a bit but you're a little obsessed with him only because he's like. Real? That's a real dude? Saying that shit? Wild. Totally insane. He's like an annoying chattering dog who keeps all your secrets and makes the biggest saddest eyes at you when you say stuff like, "The world could be exactly what we want it to be. Aren't you MAD. Aren't you ANGRY at what they've taken from you. Don't you want to MAKE THEM SUFFER LIKE YOU'VE SUFFERED--"

Yeah. Whatever.

And then Emmrich betrays you because you're scaring him. SCARING him? After everything you've done for him? You were going to reinvent the world--you were going to put him at the top of it all so NOBODY could step on either of you ever again and now he's all, Oh Johanna, you're scaring me, this isn't what we believe in, you're letting your fear control you, blah blah BLAH he never shuts UP

Fear? FEAR, Volkarin? How fucking rich.

Then some stuff happens. Half lich 125 foot skeleton someone named Elgar'nan, maybe a God, who cares. You get so close--SO CLOSE--and then fucking Emmrich rolls in and this time he takes it ALL. Your power and your mortal life and your last remaining shreds of fucking credibility in this fucking world. And then he doesn't even have the basic fucking decency to say I Told You So. He keeps you on his desk like a tchochke and listens to you scream and spit and even THEN he doesn't do anything.

All the while he has his own sidekick now. Some vapid little thing always batting their eyelashes and paying Volkarin the kind of lip service that always distracted him, made his eyes go soft and his chin quiver. He's still such a weak man. You tell him so. You tell him and tell him and tell him until--

The sidekick disappears. Emmrich's eyes go empty and haunted in a way that makes you wonder what he's done to himself in his heartache and grief.

"Whoever did this to you," you tell him on the worst day, "You can make them pay. You're powerful enough. You defeated me." You being, of course, Johanna Balls of Steel fucking Hezenkoss.

"I just want them back," Emmrich admits. Because he's weak WEAK he's a weak man mewling pitifully in a dark room for his piece of ass while the moon rises red in the fucking sky and a God walks the earth.

"You have the power," you tell him. "When the world takes from you, you take those things back. This is what I've been telling you all these years, Volkarin. For once in your miserable life, LISTEN TO ME."

Finally, finally, Emmrich reacts. He screams. He throws a few books. He kicks his desk. Punches something, probably, because his knuckles start bleeding at some point. You watch it all with barely-contained glee. Anger, yes, fucking finally. You've been waiting your whole goddamn life for this man to realize how fucking ANGRY he is.

"How do I break into the fucking Fade?" He screams. He's not even looking at you. His hair is seven different kinds of fucked. His shirt is unbuttoned to the navel, and he's missing a boot.

"You could start by asking someone who's done it," you say. Emmrich turns, startled for some reason to hear you. Again you say, "Listen to me."

"Oh, Johanna," he sighs. "I've rarely done anything else."

It's not the words 'Thank you' or 'You're right'. It's certainly not lichdom or godhood or a 125 foot tall skeleton. But it's one point for Johanna Hezenkoss.

You'll make up the deficit eventually. Volkarin has a kid, after all.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER ELEVEN ━━ The Story of Us

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.8K

❀ ━ warnings: mentions of cheating

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: never date a penn state boy (i say this from experience)

JO FEELS her body move before her mind can fully catch up, her legs shaky as she pushes herself off the bed. The room feels suffocating, suddenly too small, too loud in its silence. Asher’s phone is still in her hand, the weight of it like a lead anchor pulling her into the crushing reality she can’t seem to process. Her fingers tighten around it, her knuckles white, but her face betrays nothing. Not yet.

“Asher,” she says, her voice calm, steadier than she expects, even though it feels like there’s venom in her blood, poisoning her. “Get your shoes on.”

He’s standing near the bedroom door, mid-step. Confusion flashes across his face, his brows furrowing. “What? Why?”

Jo meets his eyes. The familiar green she’s known her whole life. But then his gaze flickers down, just for a split second, to the phone in her hand, and she sees it—the faint, fleeting flicker of something that looks like realization. Panic, maybe. Guilt.

Her chest tightens, and she feels like she might choke on the sudden wave of nausea that rises in her throat. But she doesn’t let it show.

“Just… put your shoes on,” she repeats quietly, her voice still calm, still too steady. She doesn’t trust herself to say anything else yet.

Asher hesitates, his mouth opening like he might argue. But then he closes it again, his jaw tightening. He nods, moving toward the corner of the room where his sneakers lay. He doesn’t ask any more questions, but Jo can feel his unease growing with every passing second.

She starts to walk, leaving the bedroom to go put on her slippers near the apartment door. Her grip on the phone is still so tight that her hand aches, but she doesn’t let go. Her thoughts are loud, a deafening roar in her head, but at the same time, she feels hollow. Empty.

This isn’t real. It can’t be real.

The words keep looping in her mind, a desperate chant she clings to even as the truth sits in her hand, undeniable. She doesn’t want to do this. She doesn’t want to have this conversation, doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want to see whatever’s written in his face when she says the words she knows she has to say.

She’s not a fighter. She never has been. She’s kind, and forgiving, and willing to let things slide because she hates conflict, hates the way it leaves scars on her heart and the hearts of the people she loves. But this? This is too big to let slide.

She thought she knew him. She thought he was hers.

Asher’s been her constant, her everything, for as long as she can remember. The boy next door who she used to finger paint with when they were kids. The boy who held her hand when she was anxious on the first day of middle school. The boy who kissed her for the first time in eighth grade, on one of the picnic tables at their neighborhood park.

He’s the only boy she’s ever thought about, ever wanted, ever loved. She built her future around him in her head—her dreams of getting married, of starting a life together, of building something that would last forever.

Forever.

The word feels bitter in her mouth now, a cruel joke. She can feel the cracks forming in her heart, the fissures that threaten to split her in half.

When Asher finally walks out of her bedroom, his shoes tied and on, he looks at her, his face unreadable. Jo avoids his gaze, focusing on the door instead. “Come on,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He follows her without a word, and they step out into the hallway, the soft click of the door closing behind them echoing in the stillness. They have to do this outside; Jo doesn’t want to wake up Paige.

The Jacobson girl stops a few steps from the door, turning to face Asher. She keeps her grip on his phone, her fingers trembling now despite her best efforts to stay composed. Asher stands there, his hand shoved into his pockets, his eyes darting between her face and the phone. She can see it in his posture now, the way his shoulders are tense, the way he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. He knows.

But he doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting for her to speak first, and for a moment, she almost can’t. She stares at him, her lips parted but no sound coming out, her throat tight and dry.

She doesn’t want to do this.

But she has to.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she takes a deep breath, the sound shaky and uneven in the quiet hallway. Her voice is soft, almost fragile, when she finally speaks.

“So, her name’s Brooke?”

The moment the words leave her mouth, Jo watches as Asher’s expression crumbles. His face twists, guilt flashing so obviously across his features that she doesn’t even need to hear him confirm it. But then he does, stumbling over his words in a rush to apologize.

“Jo, I—God, I messed up. It was a mistake, okay? It—it only happened once, I swear.”

For a second, she just stares at him, her mind short-circuiting as it processes the words. Her heart feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, cracking with every beat, and yet she somehow still finds the strength to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. She gives him a look then, one that she knows has to cut deep.

“Why are you still lying?” she asks, her voice quieter now, but sharper, trembling at the edges. “I looked through your texts. You’ve been seeing her since September.”

The tears in her eyes blur her vision slightly, but she can still see the way his face falls completely at her words. His mouth opens, like he’s about to defend himself, about to deny it or say something—anything—that might patch up the gaping wound he’s just ripped open. But no words come out. Jo can tell he’s scrambling now, reaching for an explanation, a lifeline, but nothing comes.

Jo lets out a small, bitter laugh that feels foreign to her, a sound so unlike the person she usually is. Her body feels cold, her chest hollow, like everything inside her has been scooped out and left her with nothing but this raw, gnawing ache.

Her voice wavers as she speaks again, the tears finally slipping free, her composure fracturing under the weight of it all. “If you wanted to break up for college, we could’ve. You could’ve just told me that long distance would be too hard and you wanted to see other people. I would’ve—I would’ve understood.” Her voice cracks at the end, and she hates how small she sounds, how stupid she feels. She’s giving him too much credit, too much grace, but she doesn’t know how to be any other way.

“You didn’t have to cheat on me,” she continues, her voice rising a little now, her hurt spilling over into anger, “and then—then pretend like you still love me.”

The tears come faster now, hot and unrelenting, but she doesn’t wipe them away. She lets them fall, lets him see the full weight of what he’s done.

Asher steps toward her then, closing the space between them, his hands reaching out as if to comfort her. “Jo,” he says desperately. “I do love you. I love you so much. I’m so fucking in love with you, okay? I just—” he pauses, choking before continuing, “—you weren’t around, and I was missing you so much, and you’ve been so busy with basketball—”

She steps back before he can touch her, shaking her head, her voice cutting through his excuses. “—when then gives you the right to have sex with another girl? To tell her she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen?”

Her words seem to hit him like a physical blow, his face paling as he shuts up. Jo doesn’t stop, though. Her voice is sharp now, full of a fury she rarely ever allows herself to feel.

“I saw the texts,” she says again, now shoving the phone back into his hands. Her breath hitches as another sob escapes her throat. “It doesn’t really seem like you still love me when you’re talking to someone else like that.”

Jo feels the air in her lungs grow heavier. The hallway is too quiet, every sound—her shallow breaths, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead—feels deafening in the stillness between them. Asher stares at her, his lips once again parting and closing uselessly, trying to find words that might somehow undo all of this.

“Jo, please,” he says finally, his voice thin and frantic, like he’s clutching at straws. “It didn’t mean anything—she doesn’t mean anything. I was lonely, okay? I was missing you so much, Jo, so much, and I just—I made a mistake. A huge mistake. But it doesn’t change how much I love you.”

His words hit her like a stab to the chest. The sheer audacity of them leaves her feeling sick, like her body can’t keep up with the reality of what’s happening.

“Why would anyone do this to someone they love?” she asks slowly.

Asher shakes his head, stepping toward her again, but Jo takes another step back, hitting the wall. She’s never felt so trapped—trapped between the ghost of what they were and the cruelness of what they’ve become.

“It wasn’t like that,” he says, his hands gesturing wildly, desperate to make her understand. “You were always on my mind, Jo. You’re always on my mind. But you weren’t there, and I was—God, I was so fucking stupid.”

Her chest tightens, a sob clawing it’s way up her throat. “You knew I wouldn’t be there!” she says loudly. “You knew since I committed nearly two years ago! That’s why I’m saying you could’ve just broken up with me before we both went to college instead of doing—this!” She gestures to the phone in his hand, the tears still spilling freely down her cheeks, mixing with her mascara. She probably looks insane.

Asher takes another step closer, and Jo flinches without meaning to. She sees the way his face crumples at her reaction.

“Jo, I’m sorry,” he says pleadingly. “I’ll do anything—anything to make it up to you. Please, baby, I’ll never talk to her again. I’ll block her, I’ll delete her number, I’ll—”

Jo cuts him off, shaking her head violently. “It’s not about Brooke!” she cries, the name tearing through her like glass. “It’s about you! It’s about the fact that you lied to me, that you betrayed me, that you’ve been doing this for months! It’s about the fact that you’ve made me feel like I’m not even enough for you anymore.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says weakly.

Jo lets out a noise between a laugh and a sob. “Well, you did,” she tells him firmly.

She doesn’t know when she starts crying harder, but suddenly, her body is wracked with sobs, her chest heaving as everything she’s been holding in comes pouring out. She can hardly even breathe.

And then Asher’s dropping to his knees in front of her, his hands reaching for here. “Jo, baby, please,” he begs, tears forming in his own eyes. “Please, let me make it up to you. I’ll transfer if you want me to—I’ll come here, be closer. I just—I love you. I love you so much. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose us.”

His hands are warm against hers, but she barely feels it through the numbness creeping into her limbs. She stares down at him, her vision blurred with tears, and for a moment, she thinks about all the years they spent together. When they were younger, when they were older. Every moment, every memory—they flash before her eyes like a cruel montage of everything they’ll never be again.

Jo pulls her hands away from his, her chest aching like it’s being ripped in half. Her voice is small, barely above a whisper, but it’s absolute. “No matter what, I’ll never be able to trust you again,” she says, the finality of her words settling heavily between them. “I can’t have a relationship with no trust, Ash. I love you—I’ve always loved you—but I can’t do it. I can’t.”

The words ring out and, for a moment, they stay where they are. And then Jo turns and opens the door to the apartment. Her fingers tremble against the knob as she pushes it open, but she doesn’t stop. She can feel the way Asher stands from his knees behind her, hovering a mix of desperate and disbelief radiating off him like a suffocating heat. She steps inside, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her, and she doesn’t turn back to look at him when she hears his footsteps following her.

“Jo, please,” Asher says again, his voice cracking, the way it always does when he’s on the verge of tears. “Let’s just—keep talking, okay? I’ll do whatever you want, just… don’t do this.”

But there’s nothing left to talk about. Not now. Not after everything.

Jo’s head pounds as she crosses the room, her eyes scanning for the things he’ll need to leave. His coat is slung on the back of one of the chairs, and his keys and wallet sit on the table. She grabs both, her hands shaking, and turns back to him.

“Asher,” she says, raw and unsteady, “please.” She holds out the coat and keys to him, her arm outstretched like it’s the only way she can keep any distance between them. “If you love me like you say you do, please leave. Please.”

He doesn’t take them at first. He just stands there, staring at her with wide, red-rimmed eyes that make him look younger than he is, like the boy she used to know. Her next-door neighbor, the boy who used to race her to the ice cream truck every summer. The boy who brought her flowers from his mom’s garden the first time he asked her to a school dance in eighth grade, nervously holding them out to her like they were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. The boy who kissed her on the Ferris wheel, telling her he’d never seen anything prettier than the way the lights reflected in her eyes.

Jo thought that boy was perfect.

But now, that boy is clearly gone.

“So this is really it?” Asher asks, his voice barely a whisper. He finally takes the coat and keys from her, his movements slow, almost mechanical, like he’s not fully in his body. His words hang in the air, heavy and final, and Jo feels like they have hands and they’re suffocating her.

She bites her lip hard, the metallic tang of blood sharp on her tongue. A sob claws at her throat, but she swallows it down, refusing to let it out. Because—God—she doesn’t want this to be it. She doesn’t want to end this chapter of her life, doesn’t want to say goodbye to the person who’s been by her side through everything. She thinks about all the time they’ve spent together, the endless summers of childhood spent chasing fireflies in their backyards, the countless nights they stayed up late talking about everything and nothing. She thinks about the way he used to cheer for her at every basketball game, the way his laugh uses to make her feel like the world wasn’t so big and scary.

But then she thinks about the texts. Brooke. The lies. The betrayal. The pain of knowing that the person she loved most in the world didn’t love her enough to stay faithful. And she knows—she knows—that she can’t stay with him. Not after this.

So, with a terrible, gut-wrenching finality, Jo forces herself to meet his eyes. Seafoam. She’ll never look at them the same again. “Yeah,” she tells him. “It is.”

Asher flinches like she’s just slapped him, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to say something else, like he’s going to keep fighting. But then his shoulders sag, and the fight leaves his body all at once. He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, and the sheer heartbreak in his expression nearly undoes her.

Jo takes a shaky breath and steps toward the door, her movements stiff and unnatural, like her body doesn’t belong to her anymore. She holds the door open and watches as Asher hesitates, lingering in the threshold like he’s waiting for her to change her mind.

“Um,” she starts, staring at the floor, unable to meet his eyes anymore. “I’m not gonna be back in Boston for break. I’ll be on that ski trip with my family. So, uh, when they get back, you just… you get your stuff from the house and bring mine back to them, okay?”

For a long, excruciating moment, Asher just stands there, staring at her like he’s trying to memorize every detail of her face. Then, finally, he nods. “Okay,” he says quietly.

He steps out into the hallway, and Jo closes the door behind him with trembling hands. The moment the latch clicks into place, she presses her back against the door, her knees nearly buckling. She buried her face in her hands and keys the sobs come.

PAIGE LIES in Celeste’s bed, staring at the ceiling, her body tangled in soft sheets that smell faintly of sex and Celeste’s perfume. The room is dark except for the faint orange glow of the streetlamp outside the window, cutting through the blinds and casting uneven stripes across her skin. Celeste is already asleep, her breathing slow and steady beside her, an arm draped lazily over Paige’s stomach.

The weight of the arm feels suffocating. The room feels too still, too warm, and Paige can feel the alcohol from earlier churning in her stomach. She hadn’t realized how much she drank until she laid down, the world tilting slightly when she closed her eyes. She shifts uncomfortably, trying to focus on anything but the growing nausea.

Her phone sits on the nightstand, and she reaches for it, squinting at the brightness when the screen lights up. 3:08 AM. Jo and Asher should be asleep by now, she thinks. The thought is a small relief, though she hates that it’s on her mind at all. When she’d come here earlier—straight from Ted’s—it wasn’t just for Celeste’s company. It was to avoid them. Avoid the sight of them fueled up on the couch, or worse, the sound of them behind Jo’s closed bedroom door.

But lying here now, with the alcohol making her stomach roil and Celeste’s soft breathing only amplifying the pounding in her head, Paige knows she can’t stay. She hates being sick, hates it even more when it happens in someone else’s space.

Carefully, she moves Celeste’s arm off of her, sliding out of bed with practiced quiet. She pulls on her jeans and shirt, then her coat, then slips on her sneakers and grabs her phone. By the time she’s in the hallway, she’s regretting every drink she had tonight.

The walk back to the apartment feels endless. The streets are deserted, the air sharp and cold against her flushed skin. She shoves her hands into her coat pockets, her breath visible in the air. Her head spins with every step, her stomach twisting tighter and tighter until—without much warning—she’s doubled over, throwing her guts up into a bush. It’s humiliating, even though no one’s there to see it.

But after, she feels marginally better. Her legs are still shaky, and her throat burns, but the nausea ebbs, replaced by exhaustion. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, cursing herself under her breath, and resumes the walk home.

When she gets to the apartment, it’s quiet. Thank God. She lets herself in carefully, taking care not to let the door slam, and moves toward the bathroom in the dark. She brushes her teeth quickly before going to her bedroom. There, she toes off her shoes, drops her phone onto her own nightstand, and collapses into bed. The sheets are cold, her pillow soft, and she burrows into them, hoping sleep will come quickly.

It doesn’t.

Instead, Paige ends up staring at her phone, her thumb absently scrolling through TikTok, then Instagram, then TikTok again.

It’s probably a half hour later when she hears footsteps outside her room. She doesn’t think much of it, only registers that Jo and Asher are awake. She thinks she hears the apartment door open, but she can’t really tell. She just resumes her scrolling.

Maybe another twenty minutes pass before she hears the door reopen. There are voices this time, too—Jo and Asher’s. They’re too low to make out what they’re saying, but there’s something off about the tone.

Paige feels her stomach twist again, though this time it has nothing to do with alcohol.

She tries to ignore it, forcing herself to keep scrolling, but the voices continue. Then, suddenly, the sound of the apartment door shutting—loud enough to make her flinch.

Paige sits up in bed. She stares at her closed bedroom door, debating. Curiosity—and something heavier—wins out. Slowly, cautiously, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands.

The floor is cold beneath her bare feet as she crosses to the door. She hesitates for a moment, hand on the knob, before turning it and pulling the door open. She steps into the hallway, walking slowly at first, unsure of what to expect. But as she rounds the corner, the sight in front of her makes her heart twist painfully in her chest.

Jo is pressed against the front door, her back flat against it as though it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Her face is buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling with sobs that Paige can hear from a few feet away. The sound cuts through her like a knife, raw and unrelenting.

Paige’s stomach drops, dread pooling deep and cold inside her. She can count on one hand the number of times she’s seen Jo cry, and not even the panic attack she had before the first game of the season looked like this. The sight freezes her for a second, but then she’s moving, instinctively, her feet carrying her closer without hesitation.

“Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice a little unsteady as she steps in front of her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She hates seeing Jo like this, hates the helplessness it churns up in her. Jo’s supposed to sunshine and rainbows and butterflies and happiness. Seeing her like this, crumpled and sobbing, feels wrong, like the world has tilted off its axis.

Paige notices, too, that Asher is nowhere to be found, and her stomach knots tighter at the implication. There are only a few reasons why Jo would be crying like this in the middle of the night, and Paige doesn’t like any of the possibilities running through her mind.

She steps closer, only inches away from Jo. She gently reaches out to tug Jo’s hands away from her face. The brunette resists at first, her fingers curling tighter, as if she’s trying to shield herself from the world. But Paige persists, her touch gentle but firm, until Jo lets her pull them down.

She looks wrecked, utterly and completely undone. Her mascara is streaked across her cheeks, smudging into the skin where her tears have carved wet paths. Her lips are trembling, and her eyes—red-rimmed and glassy—hold a look of devastation that Paige has never seen before.

Paige’s stomach drops a little. This isn’t just a bad night. This is something worse.

“Joey,” Paige says again, her voice soft but coaxing. “Joey, talk to me. What happened?”

Jo shakes her head violently, fresh tears spilling over her cheeks. “I feel so stupid,” she chokes out.

Paige’s protective instincts kick in hard, a fierce surge of anger and worry burning in her chest. Jo is her best friend, and Paige can’t stand seeing her like this, so small and hurt and vulnerable. It makes her want to fix it, to fix everything, to hunt down whatever or whoever made Jo feel like this and give them a piece of her mind.

“You’re not stupid,” Paige says quickly, her hands moving to Jo’s face. She cups her cheeks gently, her thumbs brushing over the tears as they fall, even though it’s futile. The tears keep coming, harder and faster, and Jo’s sobs are so harsh now that Paige worries she’s going to make herself sick.

“Jo,” Paige whispers, her tone soothing, steady. “Joey, you’re not stupid. Just tell me what happened. Please.”

Jo looks at her then, and the brokenness in her expression hits Paige like a tidal wave. Jo’s breaths are short and uneven, catching in her throat as she struggles to speak. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she manages to force out a choked answer:

“He’s been cheating on me since September.”

Paige isn’t sure how to react at first. Not because she doesn’t care—no, she cares too much—but because it feels incomprehensible. Asher? Cheating? On Jo? It’s like trying to convince herself the sky isn’t blue or that the sun doesn’t rise in the east. Jo is the kind of person who radiates light, who gives more than she takes, who makes everyone around her better by simply existing. The idea that anyone—anyone, let alone Asher, who Jo has loved since they were kids��could betray her like this? Paige’s chest tightens, a painful knot forming deep inside her.

“Oh, Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice breaking. She steps forward without thinking, wrapping her arms around Jo and pulling her in close. Jo is stiff at first, her body trembling like she’s holding herself together by a thread. But then she leans into Paige, her arms coming around her back, and she crumples completely.

The sobs come harder now, racking Jo’s body as she buries her face in Paige’s shoulder. Paige can feel her shirt dampening with tears, but she doesn’t care. Not even a little. All that matters is keeping Jo held together in this moment when she clearly feels like she’s falling apart. Paige’s chin rests against Jo’s hair, and she squeezes her tighter, as if that might somehow protect her from all of this—might take away the pain.

Her mind flashes to Asher, and the anger that surges through her is immediate, white-hot, and consuming. How the fuck could he do this? Asher, who seemed to adore Jo, who, just earlier tonight, had looked at her like the world revolved around her. He’s the guy everyone thought Jo would marry, the guy Paige didn’t want to like because of her own feelings for Jo but begrudgingly respected because he seemed like he loved her. Paige’s fists clench at the thought of him, the betrayal he’s inflicted on someone so good, so perfect.

Jo pulls back just enough to speak, her voice trembling through the sobs. “I just—I don’t get it,” she chokes out. Her hands are fisted in the back of Paige’s shirt now, clutching at her like she’s a lifeline. “He never seemed like—he would do that. He was never distant or anything. I—I don’t know. It’s just—it’s been us forever. He’s—he’s literally all I know.”

Paige closes her eyes for a moment, biting back her own emotions. She knows this—of course she knows this. Jo and Asher are the couple everyone compares themselves to, the pair who grew up together, who went to prom together, who everyone thought would get married and have a picturesque life together. Paige knows this betrayal isn’t just about the cheating—it’s about the loss of something Jo has held onto her entire life.

And as much as Paige didn’t want to like Asher, she can’t deny that even tonight, when they were all together, he seemed so in love with Jo. He didn’t seem like the type to cheat. Then again, Paige thinks bitterly, a lot of them don’t.

Paige hesitates, her voice careful. “Did you…?” She doesn’t have to finish the question; Jo knows what she’s asking.

Jo nods against Paige’s shoulder, her tears warm against Paige’s skin. “Yeah,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I broke up with him.”

Paige lets out a slow breath, one she didn’t realize she was holding. She always thought if this moment ever came, she’d feel something else—relief, maybe even happiness. She thought it would mean she finally had a chance with Jo, that the door might crack open. But as Jo sobs in her arms, as her heartbreak bleeds out into the quiet hallway, Paige feels none of that.

Because Jo isn’t happy. She’s broken, and Paige would rather suffer her unrequited feelings forever than see Jo like this. All she’s ever truly wanted is for Jo to be happy, to be the kind of happy that lights up her eyes and makes her laugh the way she does when she’s teasing Paige. This? This is not that.

Paige pulls back just enough so they’re face to face. Her hands come up to Jo’s cheeks once more, cradling her face gently. Jo’s eyes are red and swollen, tears still spilling over. Paige’s thumbs brush over her cheeks, wiping away some of the tears, though they’re still coming faster than she can catch them.

“Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice low and firm, “you are the most beautiful, selfless, talented, smart person I’ve ever fucking met. You don’t deserve any of this, okay? He doesn’t deserve you. Not even close.” She shakes her head slightly, her throat tightening as she continues. “I’m so sorry, Jo.”

Jo nods slowly, her breath hitching as she tries to calm down, but the tears are still there, streaming down her face.

Eventually, Paige convinces Jo to come with her, leading the brunette to her bedroom, keeping a steady hand on the small of her back as they navigate the dark hallway. Paige can feel the exhaustion radiating off of her in waves—emotional, physical, every kind of tired there is. She figures Jo doesn’t want to go to her own room, where everything probably still smells like Asher. And Paige figures Jo doesn’t want to be alone, either. That much is obvious in the way she stays close, almost leaning into Paige as they walk.

Once inside Paige’s room, Jo hesitates by the bed, looking small in a way Paige isn’t used to seeing. Jo’s always been the kind of person who fills up a space just by being in it—confident, easygoing, happy. Now, she’s quiet and folded into herself, arms crossed protectively over her chest like she’s trying to hold herself together. Paige doesn’t like it.

“Stay here for a sec, yeah?” Paige says softly, her voice careful, like she’s afraid to push Jo too far or say the wrong thing. Jo nods, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and Paige slips out of the room.

She goes to the bathroom first, grabbing some makeup wipes from the cabinet. Her mind races as she moves, filled with anger toward Asher, with concern for Jo, with guilt that a small, selfish part of her is glad to have Jo here, with her, instead of with him.

On her way back, she detours into Jo’s room just long enough to grab the emotional support stuffed animal—Bubbles. She tucks the little turtle under her arm and heads back to her room.

Jo hasn’t moved. She’s still sitting there, looking at her hands, the way her fingers twist together nervously. Paige kneels in front of her, setting Bubbles aside for now. She doesn’t say anything at first; she just takes one of the makeup wipes and gently starts to clean the streaks of mascara from Jo’s face. Jo blinks in surprise, a ghost of a smile flickering across her lips.

“I could’ve done it myself,” Jo mumbles, her voice thick and uneven.

“I know,” Paige says simply, and there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at her own lips.

It’s a quiet, intimate thing, wiping away Jo’s makeup. Paige works slowly, carefully, brushing over her skin with a tenderness she hopes Jo can feel. When she’s finished, she tosses the wipes aside into her mini trash can and hands Jo the stuffed turtle.

Jo takes Bubbles with both hands, clutching him close to her chest. There’s a tiny moment of relief in Paige’s chest when Jo actually smiles a little at the sight of him. It’s fleeting, but it’s there.

Paige climbs onto the bed beside her, hesitating for a second. The air between them feels heavy, uncertain. Jo curls up on her side, facing away from Paige, and for a moment, Paige wonders if she should leave her alone, give her space. But before she can decide, Jo’s voice breaks through the silence, shaky and fragile.

“Can you—can you just hold me?”

Paige’s heart clenches. Of course. Of course, she can. “Yeah,” she says softly, already shifting closer.

She slides in behind Jo, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her hand comes to rest gently on Jo’s stomach, fingers brushing over the fabric of her shirt in smooth, soothing patterns. Paige doesn’t think much about it; she just does what feels natural. Her face ends up close to the back of Jo’s neck, and she can feel the faint hitch in Jo’s breathing, the way it stutters each time another quiet sob escapes her.

Every time Jo shakes or cries, Paige instinctively tightens her hold, pulling her closer, letting her know she’s there. Jo doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Paige. The silence is filled with the faint rustle of the blankets, the sound of their breathing.

Paige focuses on the rise and fall of Jo’s chest, on the feeling of her heartbeat beneath her hand. It’s comforting, in a way, even though everything about the situation feels wrong. Jo deserves better than this—better than Asher, better than heartbreak. And if Paige could take it all away, if she could somehow absorb all of Jo’s pain just to see her smile again, she would.

But all she can do is hold her, keep her safe in this moment. So she does. She stays there, tracing patterns on Jo’s stomach, her own breathing falling in time with Jo’s. Eventually, Jo’s crying slows, her breaths evening out into something softer, something closer to sleep. Paige doesn’t let go.

She feels her own eyelids growing heavy, the exhaustion of the day—and mostly the night—catching up to her. She doesn’t remember exactly when she drifts off, but the last thing she’s aware of is the warmth of Jo in her arms, the quiet sound of her breathing, and the hope that maybe things will feel a little better in the morning.

[bitchface24-7]

HE’S A WHAT?! - VIKTOR X READER

synopsis: You're an exhausted student, plagued with too much assignments and riddled with insomnia. You've found an amazing ASMR artist called "The-Herald", their ASMR puts you to sleep almost instantly. Their voice immediately putting you into a drowsy state. So when you see a Patreon link regarding more videos, one specifically titled "Talking you through it | NSFW Audio (1mil subscriber) Special" It sparks your attention. Now you're hooked. Instead of being Pavloved into drowsiness, you've pavloved yourself into arousal. His voice sounds familiar though...

warnings: NSFW audio mentions, voice kink, masturbation, obsession, neediness, realizations, suggestiveness, grammarly is my beta, adding youtube and patreon to the arcane verse so lowkey a modern au! ???

genre: m/f

p.s. @melisshivering sent me a DM with a HOT Viktor NSFW audio (literally sounds so similar to him it's INSANE) and I came up with the idea with them for this fic. So send them some thanks as well if you enjoy this fic. I'll put the link at the end of the fic

As a top academy student alongside your friends Sky, Viktor, and Jayce, you're completely burnt out. Hours upon hours of studying, assignments, working on the campus library to help pay for your tuition. You're riddled with exhaustion that just won't go away, and insomnia is kicking your ass.

"The-Herald" has been your saving grace. His ASMR videos captivating you, helping you quiet your mind as you fall asleep. He keeps his face out of the frame in all his videos, but you can imagine how attractive he is; especially due to his voice. It kind of reminds you of Viktor's.

Are you hyper fixating on this creator due to his voice and your massive crush on Viktor? No. Shut up.

So imagine your surprise when you see a Patreon link for more content, NSFW content specifically. Well... it wouldn't hurt to check it out...

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You're addicted. Holy shit that audio couldn't have been any hotter. The orders, the praise, the degradation, the growly tone of his voice, the sound design.

Fuck... you don't think you've ever cum that hard before.

Your whining pants, your messy cunt, your aching wrist, and noisy bullet vibrator. You came in like ten minutes, you came again in less than two.

Who needs hookups when you've got The-Herald calling you a good girl in his sexy accent as he praises you for being good, and degrades you for being his personal slut.

Hopefully nobody finds out about your new obsession.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It's becoming bad how dependent you are on this man. You're constantly thinking about him. His voice, his words, how he makes you feel. He's honestly rivaling Viktor at this point for how bad of a crush you have on him; and you don't even know what he looks like.

You're down horrendous.

Like your entire libido revolves around this man.

You get one hell of a surprise on your next shift at the campus library.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here you are, doing your due diligence and retuning books to their proper shelves as you stop every once in a while to chat with your friends. Everything is awesome, it's great! Until Jayce throws a bomb at you.

"So, when're next uploading V?"

You pause your ministrations as Sky continues to work and the two men have a small conversation. Upload? What is Jayce talking about?

"Tonight, actually."

"Really? I though you only posted on Thursdays."

"Eh, I post when I want."

You butt in. No way... there's no way! "Uhhh... Post where? If you don't mind me asking." Jayce looks at Viktor and Viktor casually shrugs, "I run an ASMR channel. It helps me pay my tuition here, it's called The-Herald. Maybe you heard of it? It's been trending these past few weeks."

You accidentally drop a book.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

You've been masturbating to your friends voice, your crushes voice. You've pavloved yourself into arousal if Viktor says anything demeaning, praising, or that can pass as an order. You fucked up BIG TIME.

"What is wrong with you? Pick that up. You could've accidentally hurt yourself. Those textbooks aren't light you know?"

No goddamnit why?! It's like he can read your mind! You shudder out a sigh as you bend down and pick the textbook up, putting it away.

"Good girl."

A wheeze escapes you. Oh Viktor's just teasing you now and being an asshole about it. You look over your shoulder and see Sky and Jayce working together, Viktor is staring you down.

You quickly add, "Yeah I've seen it on my recommended tab. You've gotten quite popular, congrats!"

"Thanks, sweetheart." Viktor casually states, his eyes narrowed onto you as he smirks. He knows. He's gotta know! He's eyeing you down like you're a steak and he's starving.

Another hour passes by and you can feel Viktor's stare on you the entire time. Jayce and Sky pack up, Viktor stays behind.

His one reasoning being, "I don't have class tomorrow until three pm, the two of you have a class for seven in the morning. I can stay behind and make sure she gets home safe, you two can't."

Jayce and Sky can't argue with that logic, so they leave with some hugs and heartfelt goodbyes. Now it's just you and Viktor in this massive empty library.

"You're not very subtle you know." Viktor states as he runs a finger across multiple spines on the shelf, You put your tongue into your cheek, "What do you mean?"

"You've known about my channel for a while."

"You can't know that."

You turn around and Viktor's a few centimeters away from you, your noses are almost brushing together. His voice is quiet, but it damn near echoes in the silent library, "You shouldn't use a well-known nickname as your user ID. It kind of gives you away."

A sharp inhale is what he gets in response. Fuck. You didn't think about that. You assumed The-Herald was some stranger, not your friend. Not your crush.

"I didn't know it was you."

Viktor's eyebrow quirks up as he huffs in amusement, "You didn't know it was me? Wouldn't my voice give me away? My ah... accent isn't very common here."

"I didn't want to assume."

"So you subscribed to my NSFW channel, just cause?"

"I did that cause your voice is hot and it makes me cum quick."

Viktor steps back in some shock, his eyes minutely widened, "That was much more blunt than I expected."

You shrug, "It's the truth. I have a massive crush on you, this person's voice is remarkably similar to yours, there's dirty videos. One plus one equals two."

"You have a massive crush on me?"

You look down, trying to hide your face; Viktor doesn't let you. He pushes your head back up with his fingers under your chin, "Tell me sweetheart, be honest."

"Y-- Yes."

Viktor hums in satisfaction, "Well I have a crush on you too."

A beaming grin overtakes your face. Your eyes glittery, you're even lightly bouncing on the balls of your feet. He likes you back!

"I have a question for you. Would you like to join me on my NSFW channel? I'm getting tired of using my hand and imagining you. I can have you for real now; only thing is you'll need to stay quiet."

You just nod, giggling in excitement. Holy shit, Viktor's your boyfriend now. You get that glorious voice everyday. You get him.

"Good girl."

Ahhh, he's gonna kill you one day.

You're not complaining, what a way to go!

I speed-wrote this so if there is any grammar or spelling mistakes, no there isn't.

Here’s the link 😏:

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reacting to their s/o who loves smiles but feels insecure about showing their teeth

Request: Halooo I am the same anon that req wisdom tooth drabble!!! So can I req for svt ot13 s/o that love smile but never showed their teeth cause they're insecure with it?? I do have an open bite and I do be jealous w ppl that can smile with their normal teeth 🥲🥲 Also can I be ur ⭐️ anon??

A/N: This is dedicated to all kinds of smiles—big, small, toothy, closed, crooked, or perfectly aligned. It’s easy to compare ourselves to others, especially when society has such rigid standards for something as personal as a smile. But the truth is, the world isn’t looking for perfect smiles; it’s looking for your smile—the one that lights up the people around you, the one that reflects your joy, and the one that makes you you. Whether you’re someone who shows off their teeth confidently or someone who keeps their smiles shy, you are absolutely radiant just the way you are. I hope this reaction brings you warmth, and maybe even a little courage to embrace your smile, because SEVENTEEN and I think it’s the best one there is. Thank you for reading, and remember: your smile is a gift, not just to you but to everyone lucky enough to see it! 💛

I definitely encourage you to read everyone's part, especially Minghao's.

Seungcheol: Cheol would notice right away how you always smile with your lips closed. He’d encourage you without pushing too hard, so you’d catch him saying things like, “I love it when you smile—it’s my favorite thing about you.” And when you explain why you’re self-conscious, his protective mode kicks in. In his mind, you’re perfect exactly as you are. He’d make a habit of kissing your forehead after every smile, as if to say, Thank you for sharing this with me. Warm, comforting, and always your biggest cheerleader.

Jeonghan: Jeonghan is a tease—but in the sweetest way possible. He’d catch you hiding your teeth and tease you playfully about how even your shy smile could start a fan club. But deep down, he’d be the FIRST to remind you that nobody’s smile is ‘wrong’. He’d even come up with ridiculous scenarios like, “If anyone says anything about your teeth, I’ll report them to Smile Security.” Sure, it’s dramatic, but somehow it’s comforting. With him, you’d slowly start to see your smile through his eyes: bright, genuine, and absolutely worth showing off.

Joshua: Shua’s the ‘patient and reassuring’ type. He’d never rush you into anything but would always make it known how much he loves your smile—whether or not it shows your teeth. He’d probably sit with you one evening and casually mention how he used to be insecure about something too, just to remind you that everyone has their struggles. The way he’d look at you every time you smiled? Pure love and admiration. Slowly but surely, you’d start feeling like, Maybe my smile isn’t so bad after all.

Jun: Junhui wouldn’t even let you finish explaining your insecurity before he’d start showering you with compliments. He’d be so sweet and genuine about it too, like, “What? But your smile is so pretty! Have you seen yourself?” He’d probably find little ways to make you smile more, through goofy antics or heartfelt gestures. The best part? He’d never let you feel like you had to change—he loves your smile, whether it’s teeth-showing or not. And his genuine enthusiasm? It’s impossible not to feel a little brighter around him.

Hoshi: Hoshi would make it his personal mission to see your biggest, toothiest smile. He’s dramatic like that. He'd do the silliest things to make you laugh, like impersonating the other members or dancing in the weirdest ways (mind you he's performance team leader TT). When you finally let out a full smile, he’d stop mid-act and just stare. “Wow. That’s the one. That’s the smile that could light up a stadium.” And you’d know he’s not exaggerating (even though he’s Hoshi and exaggerates everything). It’s just how he loves—with his whole heart. I'm feeling soft :(

Wonwoo: He’d notice your insecurities but wouldn’t bring them up directly. Instead, would focus on making you comfortable and appreciated. He’d probably start complimenting you in subtle ways, like, “Your smile is really nice,” or “You look happiest when you smile.” Over time, his steady reassurance would make you feel less self-conscious. And when you finally smile without holding back, he’d just give you that soft, proud look, as if to say, See? I knew it was beautiful.

Woozi: Woozi would be a mix of logical and sweet about it. He’d listen to your reasons and then quietly debunk every single one of them, like, “Who said teeth have to be perfect to make a smile beautiful? That’s nonsense.” He’d focus more on how your smile makes him feel—happy, loved, and lucky to know you. And if you ever caught him sneaking a photo of you smiling? Just know it’s because he wants to remember how happy you looked in that moment.

Dokyeom: Oh boy, Seokmin would be all over this. He lives for smiles, especially yours. He’d probably start a whole campaign to make you feel better about it, complete with compliments, funny jokes, and random bursts of Look at that gorgeous smile! energy. You’d have no choice but to smile around him because he’s just that infectious. And when you finally let out a toothy grin, he’d gasp like, “I KNEW IT! YOU HAVE THE BEST SMILE IN THE WORLD!” Dramatic? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.

Mingyu: Kim Mingyu, the man he is, would be the type to go above and beyond to make you feel good about your smile. He’d start by complimenting you constantly and taking candid photos where you look natural and happy. Then, he’d show them to you like, “Look at this—your smile could cure my bad days.” He’d probably even bring it up to the members like, “Isn’t her smile the best thing ever?” And when you roll your eyes at him, he’d just grin and say, “See? Even your eyeroll smile is perfect.” AHHGHTCGTCGCFFCCT

Minghao: Hao would be supportive and no-nonsense. He’d listen to your insecurities, acknowledge your feelings, and then remind you that nobody’s perfect. “Imperfections make us human,” he’d say, and it would somehow hit deeper than you expected. He’d probably encourage you to focus on how your smile feels rather than how it looks, and over time, his grounded perspective would help you see your smile in a whole new light. With him (with others too), you’d start to appreciate the beauty in being uniquely you.

Seungkwan: Seungkwan would be the loudest advocate for your smile. “Are you kidding me!” He’d probably start hyping you up every time you smiled, to the point where it becomes impossible not to feel confident about it. And if anyone dared to say something negative about your teeth? Oh, he’d drag them to filth, no hesitation I'm telling you. With Seungkwan in your corner, you’d never have to doubt your smile again.

Vernon: He would be ridiculously sweet. He’d casually drop comments like, “Your smile’s cool,” and then act like it’s no big deal—when really, he’s melting inside every time he sees it. He’d never pressure you to show your teeth but would secretly be over the moon whenever you did. And the way he’d look at you in those moments? Pure adoration. Honestly, he’d make you feel like the coolest person in the world, open bite or not.

Dino: Chan would be all about boosting your confidence. He’d give you a pep talk about how unique smiles are the best smiles and how yours is his favorite thing about you. He’d hype you up so much that you’d almost feel like a celebrity. And when you finally smiled without holding back, he’d act like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen. “That’s it! That’s the smile that could rules my heart!” That’s just how much he cares.

[technofeudalism]

i've got one more wall of text in me for today. i'm sorry, but hopefully this helps more people than it annoys.

i understand the concerns people have about social media being captured to technofascist oligarchs and i share them.

however, and you can call me a boomer for this if you'd like, i am way more worried about the fact that we are watching a scarier replay of the 2016 hyper-normalization of Donald Trump already being carried out in mainstream/establishment news outlets.

Some political operatives on the right, who saw mainstream media coverage of Trump’s first term as overly hostile, say the way the press covered Trump’s first term unwittingly did him a favor.   “I do expect that the media coverage will be a little different in tone,” one national Republican strategist told The Hill this week. “Not because the media is all of a sudden planning on being more objective and less biased, but because they probably finally recognize that their over-the-top hysterical coverage has done nothing but help Trump politically.”  

there are many reason this freaks me out worse, but i can sum up a couple of them.

the rhetoric this time is a magnitude more insane and suddenly alarmingly expansionist. logic would suggest this would justify an even more critical evaluation from the media that they are seemingly neglecting to provide.

the public, thanks to total dereliction of duty by the Democrats, are far more geared up for fascist shit than ever, but are totally ignorant to how this is going to happen (concentration camps)

speaking of the Democratic party: following a series of humiliating, high profile L's, the party finds themselves leaderless and less popular than they've been in 30 years at the worst time. when asked to name the leader of the Democratic Party, 49% of registered voters couldn’t name a person or said “nobody.”

before i continue, i know that there has been a dramatic decrease in people who get their news from traditional media and instead rely on social media, podcasts and the like. that makes sense. people aren't watching cable news anymore, chiefly because fewer and fewer people under the age of 30 even have cable TV and they definitely aren't paying for a New York Times subscription.

but what people fail to consider is that the "news" people consume via social media is often rehashed or half-baked, word of mouth versions of reporting conducted by the mainstream media or the journalists who work for them. there are still journalists working for these publications who take advantage of the increased exposure podcasts provide and go on them to talk about their writing.

people hear the same stories at the end of the day, but the way the issue is initially framed when the story first "breaks" and how it is approached by other outlets who follow up on it is significant. it's a lot less work to have to clean up and suppress news on your platform when the news is already favorable to your cause.

think along the lines of a massive disinformation campaign emerging from one outlet, social media being thrown into a complete frenzy and the only journalist who knows the truth from another outlet hesitating to speak out because of threats from his publisher to keep outrage revenue high or, perhaps more ominously, to directly serve the interest of the fascists in charge.

the US media has always been servile to whims of corporate interests because... well... they are owned by the corporate interests.

but up until today, i was holding out some sliver of hope that even if the NYT, for example, wasn't taking up antifascist actions, they would hold onto a tiny bit of reliability as a further watered down version of itself. an increasingly rare, delicate weapon against misinformation on social media, as opposed to being another tool wielded by fascists on aforementioned social media to grow legitimacy and manufacture consent.

then i saw this. my feeling is now that if the New York Times can't even write a headline - with THAT photograph underneath it - that says in plain English "Elon Musk Makes Nazi Salute Twice at Trump Inauguration," then there is going to be a frightening decrease in quality journalism being funded by mainstream outlets coming.

if you are not sure what to do and you want to be well informed, i have two suggestions. the first and most important, most difficult one that is a skill hard to master, is to develop decent media literacy and an ability to derive context from history.

the second is to build a network of trustworthy local, national and global sources that you can count on. ideally, they would be completely independent and free from editorial oversight or corporate control.

here are some of my recommendations. all of them are flawed. never rely on one source. do not immediately accept something as the truth from any single source. everyone is capable of accidentally getting a detail wrong, or even deliberately misleading.

Dropsite News - ran by Ryan Grim, Jeremy Scahill

The Intercept - sadly running out of money, alleged CIA ties

Democracy Now! - more center-left, better domestically

Jacobin - wide variety, sometimes shitty takes, Alex Press is great

The Grayzone - this one is controversial (mainly just to liberals) and they make no qualms about being committed to reporting from an anti-imperialist view of the world

Black Agenda Report - perspective from Black leftists. founded by Glen Ford (RIP), a Black Panther and accomplished investigative journalist

Hasan Piker - hate him, love him, neutral, doesn't matter. he's the largest independent political commentator on the left (by far), covering news and misinformation 9 hours a day. you can think he has shit takes, but he's still a reliable source and has been insanely accurate with his opinions

The Majority Report - been around forever, Sam Seder & Emma Vigeland are amazing, once home to the incredible Michael Jamal Brooks (RIP)

Breakthrough News

Labor Notes

Ben Norton @ Global Political Economy

Caitlin Johnstone (AUS)

these are just what i could come up with but there are many more if you do a little bit of digging using these as a baseline. just remember that the source ultimately is irrelevant and will have it's own biases. it is up to you to separate fact and fiction.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT • MINORS DNI

Joel Miller x Reader • oral (f receiving) • p in v sex

Thanks to everyone who voted! ♥️

The kitchen in the cabin you shared with Joel smelled of pancakes and maple syrup. He’d just finished preparing breakfast for two, as he did every Sunday morning. The remaining oil in the skillet sizzled as Joel switched off the stove. His hands were dirty with batter; he reached for a clean towel on the counter and wiped them, before turning the corner to the hallway.

Joel lingered in the bedroom doorway a moment, watching you sleep. It was mostly quiet, with only the distant sound of birds chirping outside. A few strands of amber sunshine peeked through the beige curtains on the window, touching the thick quilt that covered you. Joel’s lips pulled into a grin as he observed you in silence. He wondered for a moment how after all the mistakes he’d made in his life, the universe had somehow allowed him the gift of redemption, in the form of a beautiful young woman like you…

It was a gift Joel didn’t believe he deserved. He was dedicated to making sure he earned your love and trust in him every day he was lucky enough to have with you. Because as Joel had been made painfully aware, the things we cherish most can be taken away in an instant. A moment never passed without Joel being grateful for the gift of you in his life.

He approached the bed quietly, not wanting to wake you just yet. There was something so sweet about the way you were sleeping, one hand cupping your cheek, the other laying against the pillow. Joel knelt down beside the bed, resting his elbow on his knee. He carefully brushed back a few strands of hair from your forehead. You stirred slightly, a soft sigh leaving your parted lips.

Joel stroked your cheek gently with the back of his hand. “Hey honey,” he whispered. “It’s time to get up.”

You groaned slightly, smiling a little at hearing Joel’s voice, even in your sleep. He waited a moment before trying again. “Sweetheart. Breakfast’s ready. Come on, let me see those pretty eyes.”

Your grin deepened as you began to wake, eyes fluttering open. “Five more minutes,” you protested through a voice gravelly with sleep. Joel’s fingers were still on your cheek. He stroked you gently as if guiding you awake. “No no no, sleepyhead,” he patiently insisted. “Syrup’s already on the pancakes. They’re gonna be soggy ‘n cold by the time you eat ‘em if I give you those five extra minutes…”

You pursed your lips and frowned, closing your eyes again in protest. “Well what if I like cold, soggy pancakes?” you teased, snuggling into the pillow. Joel sighed, but there was no frustration in it. He leaned closer, pressing a tender kiss to your bare shoulder. “I know for a fact,” Joel said. “That you do not like cold, soggy pancakes. I know that because nobody does…”

You scrunched your nose, eyes still shut tight. “When did you get so smart?” you asked, to which Joel shrugged. “Have to be,” he replied. “To keep up with you.” He nuzzled his nose against your shoulder and gave it another kiss. You pointed to your cheek, and Joel obligingly placed a kiss there as well. Your fingertip trailed to your neck; Joel’s mouth followed, each kiss a little slower, deeper. Joel’s cock stiffened against the mattress, his chest hovering over yours as he nestled into your shoulder.

Here, in the soft warmth of the bed, he could smell the scent of your shampoo on the pillow; and as the quilt over your body shifted, the subtle hint of your scent beneath it stirred up to meet Joel’s nostrils. Now his eyes closed as well, Joel’s senses being filled with you: the taste of your skin on his tongue, the scent of your cunt drawn into his lungs. Joel caught himself grinding lightly into the mattress without realizing it.

“Joel,” you whimpered, your eyes still closed. “More…”

He chuckled into your neck, warm breath coasting your skin. His jeans felt like they were getting tighter by the second. “Y’smell so good, darlin,” Joel murmured at your ear. “Makes me hungry for somethin’ else…” You opened your eyes, glancing down at the quilt covering you. Joel followed, his gaze washing over the shape of your breasts rounded under the fabric. He gently cupped your breast through the quilt, his mouth finding yours. Your lips parted, the tip of your tongue licking between Joel’s lips. He exhaled, a low growl pulling up from his chest.

His fingers slid over the edge of the quilt at your neck. As his tongue explored the wet heat of your mouth, Joel pulled the quilt downward. Your body shivered from the sudden cold. “Aww darlin,” Joel cooed. “Are you cold? I can fix that.” He stood beside the bed and tugged his t-shirt off, enjoying the way your eyes raked hungrily over his exposed chest and belly, focusing on the dark trail of hair peppered with gray trailing beneath his jeans. Joel unbuckled his belt and tugged it through the loops, folded it and placed it on the nightstand beside the bed. He undid his jeans but didn’t remove them yet. Joel climbed over you on the bed, resting his weight on his elbows as he lowered his chest onto yours.

“Y’just need some body heat, is all,” Joel said, his hands roaming up your sides. He placed soft kisses between your breasts through your nightgown, cupping both mounds in his hands. Joel’s fingers slipped under the neckline of your nightgown, which was softly rising and falling over your breasts as you breathed. He carefully pulled it down, your breasts popping over the fabric, your soft skin meeting the scruff of Joel’s stubble. His tongue swept over your exposed skin, circling your left nipple before his lips latched over it.

You moaned softly as Joel massaged your breast in his mouth. The pad of his tongue rolled over your left nipple, the right twisted gently between Joel’s thumb and forefinger. You keened into Joel’s mouth, your back lifting off the mattress. He stayed at your breasts a moment longer, before shifting down the bed and nestling between your thighs. Joel lifted the edge of your nightgown, letting the fabric settle on your stomach. Your legs were spread already, pussy ripe and wet like a peach, waiting just inches from his lips.

Joel was overwhelmed with the need to devour you as your scent consumed him. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them like a frame around his face. He closed his eyes and nuzzled against your lips, catching your slick on the end of his nose. Your hips shifted, a silent request for more. Joel could never deny you anything, and certainly not when it meant he got to taste you. His big hands held your thighs apart, dark eyes taking in the bounty before him, like a man preparing to feast.

He flattened his tongue against your cunt, sloppily spreading your lips apart. The warmth of his breath against your clit made you shiver again. He closed his lips over your clit, sucking the tiny bud between them. Your legs jerked, a breathy giggle escaping your lungs. Joel’s grip tightened on your thighs as he looked up at you from between them. “Gotta make sure you stay put, sweetheart,” he said, a dark twinkle in his eyes. “You try buckin’ me off again like that, I’m gonna have to make you mind…”

Joel buried his face against your cunt, making you whimper in relief and need. As many times as you’d felt this before, it always felt like the first time. Joel knew exactly what you wanted, where you needed his mouth to be. The thick pressure of his tongue massaging your clit was so perfect it almost hurt, but you’d never tell him to stop. It felt too good, too intense, like you were either going to come or piss or both. Your body jolted again, which earned you a hard growl from Joel, the vibration from his mouth making your clit throb even harder. He forced your legs wider apart, pinning them to the mattress. You wriggled under his hold, but Joel’s strength far surpassed your own. In less than a minute you were coming, your body writhing under Joel, his shoulders braced as he held you still.

When you finished shaking, Joel relaxed his hold on you, letting you rest. He climbed up between your legs till his face was above yours, a line of slick hanging from his chin. “That’s a good girl,” he said, guiding one of your weak, pliant legs around his waist and holding it there. “You just relax now darlin, ‘n let me do all the work.” Joel reached between your bodies and took hold of his cock, rubbing his tip between your lips, massaging your wet, warm entrance. He grinned when your small hole puckered against him expectantly, eager. Joel lowered his tip just inside you, groaning as your walls spread around him. He bit his lip, forcing himself to go slow, to make this moment last. Five more minutes, you’d said. Those five minutes he’d allowed you had stretched to twenty, but at this point, Joel wanted them to go on forever.

“Joel,” you squeaked, your fingers groping at his back. He knew what you needed, something he was more than willing to give you. Joel sank his hips forward, filling you completely. The breath you’d been holding spilled from your lungs, your head landing back against the pillow. Joel rut into you forcefully, his hips meeting yours in rapid, hard thrusts. He gripped the sides of your pillow in his fists, pulling you closer. Your forehead pressed against Joel’s chest as he took you, pumping his cock inside the tight, slick grip of your body.

His lips parted in a breathy moan, teeth grazing your shoulder as he came. You wrapped your arms around Joel’s back, feeling his muscles shudder and tense. He pulsed inside you, warm semen spilling between your walls and oozing out around Joel’s cock. He stayed inside you, both your breath and his filling the room in ragged, grateful pants. The mattress was soaked beneath your ass, your cum and Joel’s spilling onto the sheets. When your bodies finally separated, it wasn’t for long. Because Joel pulled you into his arms and held you, making sure you stayed warm, just as he always did. And when you’d both recovered, he made fresh pancakes for you, and served them in the same bed he’d had his breakfast in…

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi sex witch! I (a teen) was talking with my friends (also teens) about sex, specifically hookups with people you aren’t necessarily romantically involved with. They said that as a teen that’s a bad idea, since hormones or whatever fuck with uour brain and cause an unhealthy obsession or smth we watched rocky horror immediately after and I forgot the details. Is that true? That sounds not true, teens have sex and oftentimes have sex with people they aren’t in relationships with, and I’ve literally never heard anything like that before they said it. Anyway, as a horny teen who wants to engage in some no-romance hookups I’d like to know if this would idk turn my brain to mush or whatever

hi there, friend,

listen: there is no existing age where sexual and romantic entanglements don't put people at risk of getting their feelings hurt if things don't go the way they hoped. that's not something you grow out of when you're done being a teenager; it comes free with being a person. a hot tip that nobody wants to talk about is that this also isn't exclusive to sexual and romantic relationships; caring about your friends or your family or your neighbors or your pets or anything at all comes with the potential to get burned because giving a shit is inherently vulnerable. and yet, we do it anyway! isn't that beautiful?

teenagers have a reputation for having very high drama relationships because most teenagers are experiencing a lot of firsts - first crush, first date, first relationship, first kiss, first partnered sex, first heartbreak, etc - and firsts are exciting and scary and engender a lot of big feelings. your that's quite understandable; everything is more stressful when you haven't done it before. as I'm shuffling towards 30, I find that the times I feel youngest are when I'm most uncertain and out of my element, because such a big part of being young is having a very limited frame of reference and no idea how to cope with a great deal of things.

(conversely, getting older mostly involves mellowing out because you know how to handle way more situations and solve way more problems than you did when you were younger.)

a lot of moralizing panic around teenagers' sexuality tries to paint teenagers being sexual as A Bad Thing Always, No Exceptions, and try to push the idea that teenagers just shouldn't be permitted any form of sexual exploration. I think that's bullshit, partly because it's impossible to actually enforce and mainly because denying sexual expression is deeply cruel, and also because the teen years are a really important window for practicing for adulthood. including intimacy! great time to practice intimacy, and I sorely wish every teenager had the space and security to comfortably explore with support from their guardians.

when I caution young people about sex, it's just to say that, yes, sex can sometimes cause new problems and new feelings that you don't know how to deal with. fear or anxiety or insecurity can make people say and do things that hurt them and others all the time, especially in intimate relationships, so be careful and do your research to cut down on the risks you can control (for instance: following safer sex practices, keeping your body clean and healthy, talking to partners about boundaries and emotional well-being). not every sexual or romantic partner has to be forever, but partnering with people you like, trust, and know how to talk to will make it easier and less scary to figure out what to do together if/when unexpected problems do arise.

being a thoughtful and communicative partner is GREAT skill to start practicing as early as possible, trust me - I get plenty of very grown adults in my inbox who are still figuring out how to do it.

in conclusion: there's nothing inherently dangerous about sex with someone who's not a romantic partner, just make sure you're picking people wisely and looking out for everyone's safety.

[tac-bat]

Dude the more I peek in the loopdile tag the less normal I become. SO with how I draw loop more akin to an analog horror creature I’d like to give some enrichment in a loop dile context.

So like context: my loop, my meow meow my freak, this is them. (For a visual idea) and like, after discussing with a friend we had the idea that they’d just be hard to look at. Not because of their body, but because trying to see their head clearly is near impossible. It’s like trying to focus a camera a little bit more, and it refuses to. chromatic abbreviation without the chrome pretty much. But ofc loop thinks it’s because they’re too disgusting to look at. It doesn’t help that sif avoided eye contact with them for the reason stated above. And neither of them communicated this because come on, what do you expect of them both??? So! Loop just accepted it, and to them, it made perfect sense. They’re not even “humanoid” anymore they’re,,, Somthing else.

ENTER ODILE post game!!! Where loop joins the party. Don’t ask me how they make it work, they just do.

Anyways, ofc Odile is intrigued by loop, apart on how they look, but mainly for mannerisms (still haven’t quite figured it out though). And loops attitude and arms length distance they try to keep everyone else at doesn’t deter her. Plus, Odile can see past it and know’s loop is doing it on purpose to put as much distance from them and the party as they can. And hey, somehow, because of her determination. Loop (just a little) brings their guard down (just a little). Maybe they can just be a little selfish in wanting her company.

SO! maybe one time, they’re talking. And as always Odile has to look away from loop. And, loop, decided to finally comment on it in a joking matter. Odile, ofcourse is confused, and pushes on it. And loop for once, snaps back.

Look at them! For universe sake!! Does she really look at loop, see way they’re stretched, crouch and tower over everyone—the way their arms are like branches and their fingers as needles, their legs are twisted like a wolf’s, their neck elongated: craneing and bending like no other should—and conclude that they aren’t hard to look at? Too disgusting to look at???

Odile, for the first time, forces herself to look loop in the eyes, her head hurting as she does.

And says no.

She doesn’t.

She never did.

In fact, she finds them fascinating.

Loop, has trouble comprehending that.

It’s even more jarring that Odile tells them she wants to look at them. Wants to see their face for more than a glance. What?? Has she gone insane???

I think it’s then Odile explains why she, and nobody else can.

Loop doesn’t know how to feel about that. They also don’t like how it makes their chest feel light that Odile wants too. They immediately bury it. Even if she doesn’t find them disgusting (a fact they’re still trying to grapple with) she would be if those (not) intrusive feelings came to light. Absolutely not. No way.

Odile doesn’t realize it yet as she hasn’t clocked the feeling she’s having yet about loop, but, she in fact, would reciprocate. By reciprocate I mean both would do it in their own fucked up ascespec way /pos

God, help them both :skull emoji:

[larluce]

First I wanted to say hello and tell you that I love your works. They really have me on the edge of my seat every time I read them.

Second. Can you imagine that Merlin, in some new alternative universe, for some reason, upon arriving in Camelot, arrives with a baby? It's all still a Merthur ending, it should be noted.

Like, we know that Merlin was already a bit of an outcast in the village for the reason that nobody knew who his father was and even more so because strange things were always happening around him.

The situation gets much worse when he finds a crying baby in the middle of a burnt tent near the village.

Will and his mother try to help him for a while, but with the visits of the evildoers to the village becoming more and more frequent, Merlin and the baby have no choice but to go to Camelot.

And so the adventures begin!

Only now Arthur wonders if they can make crowns for babies, because he is willing to marry Merlin and legally adopt the baby as his own.

And Morgana… well, she and Gwen enjoy dressing up the baby in all the clothes from her old dolls. Not to mention that she notices that by taking naps with the baby she no longer has nightmares.

The knights become, in some way or another, glorified nannies. The servants and maids must chase after a baby who never stops causing mischief in the castle.

And Merlin just wants to survive colic season and potty train his baby… and everything would be easier if there weren't a murderer or a resentful wizard trying to kill Arthur every 3 minutes.

First, thank you so much for the compliments! 🥹🤧❤️

About the concept. I love it! I don't think going to Camelot to live would be Merlin or Hunith's first option for a baby that can't control their magic at all. So I firmly believe Hunith would send Merlin with the baby there so Gaius can take them to a druid camp so they could take refuge there.

The problem is, before Gaius can do so, Merlin is made the prince's personal manservant. Merlin can't exactly deny the king and he does need the money to take care of his baby so he decides to stay to Gaius dismay. Gaius and Merlin try to keep the baby hided at first so they take turns taking care of her (in my mind is a her) in Gaius' tower in secret. It works out for some weeks but then the plague (Nimueh's Afanc) happens and Arthur searches Gaius' tower.

Arthur: (enters Merlin's room) Merlin: (running inside) Arthur, wait! Baby: (sitting on the bed, looks up at Arthur and gives a cute giggle) Arthur: (Turns to Merlin slowly) Merlin? Merlin: Yeah? 😅 Arthur: Why is there a baby in your bed? Merlin: (in panic, shouts the first thing that comes to his mind) She is mine! Arthur: ... Arthur: What? 😧 Merlin: (repeats more quietly but more firmly) She is mine. (runs to hold her up and embraces her) She is my daugther. Arthur: (thinking) But... but he is so young. (says) Where's the mother? Merlin: (with pain as he remembers the burnt tent) She passed away. Arthur: (his heart hurting for Merlin) I'm so sorry. But Gods Merlin, why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have given you so many chores if I knew... (thinking) And I almost sacked you. I almost sacked a single father with a baby in arms! (says) And why the hell are you hiding her? Merlin: I... wasn't sure if I could keep her. Arthur: Of course you can keep her! What kind of master do you think I am? Knight x: (from outside) Sire? Arthur: (shouts back) In a minute! (to Merlin) What's her name? Merlin: Brigitta. Arthur: (repeats softly and smiles) Brigitta.

From then on, Arthur doesn't give Merlin as many chores and raises his salary considerably. And then everybody else finds out about Briggitta and go "I've only met Brigitta for a day and a half, but if anything happened to her, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself".

Some events would change, obviously, and some would remain the same but with a new perspective. I don't think Merlin would have time to make Lancelot a fake seal, for example, having to look after Brigitta and all. I can imagine Lancelot becoming Brigitta's first unnofficial babysiter, then Arthur makes it official so poor Lancelot has a salary and a place to stay in Camelot. The Poisoned Chalice episode would remain the same, except Arthur would be more in panic mode and desperate because MERLIN HAS A DAUGHTER! BRIGITTA CAN'T LOSE HER FATHER TOO!

I think it would be The Beginning of the End where Arthur and Morgana find out about Brigitta's magic and Merlin's magic. Not because they discovered her, surprisingly, but Merlin decided to tell them all the truth about her and himself after seeing how they saved Mordred. Also, since Merlin saw Brigitta's possible future in Mordred, he wants to leave Camelot too to keep her safe. Screw all what the dragon told him about destiny, his daugther comes first.

So Merlin and Brigitta are about to leave with Mordred with the druids. They are having a heartfelt goodbye with Arthur, who scorted them there, but then...

Brigitta: (cries very loudly in Merlin's arms and the earth starts shaking a bit) Merlin: I know, I know, baby, but we have to go. Brigitta: (cries more loudly and extends her little arms to Arthur) Arthur: (barely containing his tears) I'll miss you too, Biddy. But this is the best for you- Brigitta: ATHU! 😭 Arthur: (open his eyes wide) What did she just said? Brigitta: (still crying and making grabby hands at him) ATHU, ATHU, ATHU! 😭 Arthur: (tears roll down his eyes) She said my name... Merlin, she said my name! (grinning widely) Let me hold her one more time, please! Merlin: (gives Brigitta to Arthur) Druid leader: (urgently) We need to leave now! Merlin: (looking at Arthur and Brigitta tenderly and smiles) Leave, we'll stay.

I also can imagine Nimueh going after Brigitta's life instead of Hunith, and having to confront not only a very furious Merlin, but a feral protective prince.

That's how far my imagination can go. If you have any ideas of how Merlin and Arthur or other character would act in other episodes now with Brigitta in the equation, share it in the comments or reblogs. I'll be happy to read you 🥰

[winters-on-the-wing]

safe - a jily oneshot

Lily wasn’t the kind of person to flinch upon being touched. Sure, she didn’t like being manhandled or grabbed without warning, but she could compose herself well enough to keep fear from showing in her face or body. It was what she had to do. If she expressed that she was afraid, then it would only make her that much more vulnerable. Lily had long learned to train her nerves. 

So then why did she shudder when she felt a cold hand firmly grasp her arm? 

“Lily, what is going on with you?” Severus implored, his dark eyes wild with a strange, feral kind of fright, “First, I’m hearing all of these insane rumors, and now you’re late to class. You’re never late to class, Lily.” 

“Hold on, what kinds of rumors have you been hearing?” Lily asked, sitting down beside Severus, in her favorite place at the front of the class, “You know by now not to listen to stupid rumors.” 

“These rumors are different,” Severus practically snapped, “Everyone is saying that you’re dating Potter.” 

Severus spat the word like it was poison, and Lily couldn’t help but crack a smile. Now that she had let her guard down around James and their rivalry dissolved, she could fully see how silly it was that she and Severus had ever considered James an enemy. 

“Well, maybe that’s because I am,” Lily said cautiously, but the smile didn’t leave her face. Her green eyes twinkled as she thought about her new lover. “We made it official yesterday after the big Quidditch game. Neither of us like labels all that much, but we also couldn’t excuse calling each other friends after, well…it’s improper to talk about this sort of thing. Let’s compare homework. Did you get C for the second question?” 

Severus placed his hand on Lily’s, keeping her from taking her schoolbooks from her satchel. His grip around Lily’s hand tightened, and Lily realized with an odd sort of dread that though Severus’ hand was small, it was surprisingly small. 

“Lily, this isn’t some joke,” Severus hissed urgently, “You can’t be- you can’t be dating James Potter! He’s treated us like shit ever since we first got here! He doesn’t care about you, Lily!” 

“He has not treated us like shit,” Lily protested, “Sure, we’ve had our squabbles, but he doesn’t ever go too far. And he’s defended me. You’ve heard him defend me, Sev. Not even you have ever defended me the way he does every day.” 

“He doesn’t mean it, Lily!” Severus snapped, and Lily’s eyes widened. She froze as Severus continued. “He’s a Pureblood, obviously, he doesn’t mean anything he’s saying! He’s just pretending so he can seem like a hero and get close to you! You know how James and Sirius and them are. Everything they do is a fucking act. So that people will treat them like they’re the kings of the world!” 

“That’s not true, Sev!” Lily cried out the second she was able to get a word in, “I know he can tease sometimes, but he’s a good person. He makes me feel…well…he makes me feel safe, Severus. Nobody’s made me feel like that before.” 

“Seriously, Lily?” Severus demanded. “I’ve never made you feel safe before? I’ve been protecting you since the day we met!” 

Lily winced as Severus’ grip on her arm tightened, and her skin reddened underneath the growing cruelty in his hand. 

“You’re certainly not making me feel safe now!” she shot back, yanking at her arm to try and take it back from Severus’ oppressive grip. “You’re being ridiculous! How does my relationship with James have anything to do with you? I can be his girlfriend and your friend at the same time, can’t I?” 

“No you can’t, Lily! You don’t get it!” Severus’ eyes glinted with something sinister. It made Lily’s skin crawl. “I just don’t understand how you can’t see it. I’ve been there for you, I’ve supported you, I’ve given you everything, Lily! Who else would do that for a Mudblood?” 

The world froze as Lily realized what this all was about. It was never about James. It was never even about Severus. It was about her, and what flowed in her veins. What rushed in her ears in this very moment. 

“You said you would never call me that again.” 

Lily’s voice was heavy and thick with fear. She felt frozen, like she couldn’t move a muscle. This wasn’t like Lily. Usually, when she was afraid, she couldn’t stop moving. She couldn’t fathom why the same was not happening now. She wanted to run. She wanted to be away from Severus and those eyes, which burned with hatred for not Lily, but for what she was. 

“Why does it matter?” Severus challenged, “It’s what you are. Nothing’s going to change that. You’re a real slut, Lily, leading me on like this, making me think that we had something. I know exactly what you are. You’re a fucking gold digger. First, you wanted to be near me because of my status. And then, someone richer came along, a Pureblood at that. You just want to take from men, whatever you can. Whatever they have. If you think this is some sort of rebellion against the system, you’re dead wrong! Nobody else would genuinely do this for you, nobody else would genuinely let you pretend that you’re an equal! You’re a slut, Lily Evans, and I don’t care who hears it because it’s true!” 

A loud crack resounded, echoing off the walls of the classroom. The other buzzing of conversations stopped as all eyes turned to the front of the room. Standing before Lily was James Potter. All six feet of James Potter. Lily was transfixed, unable to stop staring at his eyes. James’ eyes were big and brown, always gentle. Always reverent. They twinkled with a childlike innocence and a mischievous impishness. But none of that was present now. James’ eyes, his big brown eyes, were glimmering with unbridled rage. 

Severus was huddled on the floor, clutching the side of his face. Tears sprang from the corners of his eyes almost immediately. James did not falter or frown. His glare was red-hot. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t punch your throat,” James spat, “Calling Lily such a name. You know, Lily told me that you’re her best friend, so I decided coming in today that I would try to be nice to you. But I forgot one thing. It’s impossible to be nice to a bigot, Snivellus.” 

James kicked Severus in the side, causing the boy to whimper and scramble to his feet, running out of the room, no doubt towards the infirmary. The rest of the morning went by in a blur. James was yelled at. He was sentenced to detention. 200 house points were taken. And then, 100 house points were given. For standing up for equality. Lily felt James stroke her hair and ask if she was alright, but her tongue felt numb. She could not speak. Finally, after a few minutes of concentrated thawing, she whispered in the smallest, shakiest voice. 

“You didn’t have to do that, James.” 

And suddenly, James’ eyes were the same gentle brown eyes that Lily had fallen in love with. He looked shocked and confused, and his head tilted to the side. Lily was almost tempted to laugh at how innocent James looked. He seemed unable to fathom what Lily had said, and when he responded, his voice was rich with devotion. 

“Yes, I did.” 

His hands held Lily’s arms, and she felt no fear, even though James’ hands were much bigger than Severus’. His hold was so impossibly tender. Lily felt like a glass figurine, like something that was worth handling delicately. And it made her feel…safe. Lily was safe again.

---

inspired by a conversation with @fauna-flora11

i hope you guys enjoyed! i know the fic is pretty indulgent, but i just wrote it for fun!

[diminuel]

I have a little question for the cannon story, in an interview oda was asked:

And I wanted to know if you think Dragon took care of/lived with Luffy before Luffy was old enough to remember it? Basicly what do you think is the anwser to the question in the cannon story of One piece?

I'd say yes, for a short while probably. The issue is, that it's been stated in the manga that Luffy was born in Windmill Village.

I find the idea that Dragon relocated Crocodile (I'm just going to Crocodad theorize here) to Windmill Village for him to have the child there and nobody in that small village noticed kind of odd. I'm sure it can be explained away somehow because either way, someone would have needed to now who brought Luffy into the world unless this was a hush-hush operation of sorts. Which I assume generally it had to be. Dragon didn't tell anyone about it, so he just disappeared from his RA duties for a while?? But why go to that trouble, why believe he can do it and take care of his family only to them decide to leave him to keep him safe after all? What happened?

Also, it's possible that it's just not true that Luffy was born there because Garp mentions that it was a bad idea to let Luffy grow up in a peaceful village like Windmill Village. So was it Garp's decision to have him be there? Was it Dragon's decision? Did Crocodile get any say in the matter? Did Crocodile WANT to have a say in the matter? Many many questions.

But the way Oda phrased his answer suggests to me that yes, for a short time Dragon must have kept Luffy but he realized at a point (either because something happened or because he knew he had to go back to the revolutionary efforts) that he cannot raise him and that Luffy will be safer without him. Whether Crocodile contributed anything besides Luffy to the decision making I don't know. But Luffy doesn't remember them, nobody in the village talks about them (but it can't have been a secret entirely. Ace did also know who Luffy's dad was and Major most likely remembers Dragon who also grew up there.)

[everdeensworld]

can i get finnick x pregnant! rrader fluff 🥺 weather it’s their first kid or not is up to you i just think its so cute to imagine him doting on ur every move 😭😭

a/n; i decided to do head cannons because i couldn’t for the life of me come up with a plot

i think finnick is a girl dad and a boy dad, he’s both, he’d be happy to play football, trucks and stereotypical boy things, and a moment later dress up in an fairy costume and paint his nails and lift his pinky for a tea party.

for your first pregnancy i think he’d buy baby a shit ton of books like ‘what to expect when you’re expecting’

then he’d pull up with like eleven types of fruits and claim they help “strengthen the babies fingernails” or some other old wives tale.

he would 100% talk to your stomach even before your baby can recognise sounds, i don’t think he’d sing to the baby, not while you were awake anyway.

“hello little one, this is your daddy speaking, your ma is really mad at me right now, do you think you can convince her to forgive me please.”

and well, how could you not forgive him, he’s looking up at you with his beautiful eyes.

i definitely do think there’d be a few times that you and him get into arguments, because let’s face it, nobody is perfect, and pregnancy can be a stressful time.

both of you would absolutely grovel, and feel so guilty depending on who started it, and would make up pretty quickly with a tough conversation on what upset the other person because communication is key!

i like to believe that he’d tell his friends in the goofiest way possible, by making one of them (probably johanna) get a literal bun out of the oven and she’d be like wtf is this doing in here and it would take them a little while

katniss would be the first to get it.

she’d gasp, and everyone looks at her as if she’s insane and she wouldn’t tell them at first until she does and then it clicks, a bun, in the oven.

one day you’d both be chilling watching the television, maybe you’re sitting with your feet on his lap when you sit up and gasp, at first he’s worried, checking for any sings of pain or danger but your face lights up.

“the baby is kicking!” you grin at him, and he’s immediately filling up. “can i feel..?”

why do i lowkey feel like he’d buy matching outfits for you all for when the baby is born.

coming up to your due date any noise that sounds like discomfort or pain he’s at his feet, have you ever played sims and seen the pre-parental panic emote, i imagine him like that 😭

he definitely repacks the bag all the time in the days leading up to your due date, and keeps adding more things to the point you have to tell him;

“finnick we do not need that much stuff!”

for most women, their first baby isn’t usually early, so you keep reminding him that your baby will probably be late but he can’t help but worry.

i definitely think the words “you’ll be such a great dad.” is told to him a lot by the people around him, cause let’s face it, he definitely would be, but every time it brings tears to his eyes.

he’d be amazing during labour, a total star, i think he’d be in the birthing pool with you, forcing you to squeeze his hand, and feeding you your favourite snack.

once the baby is born he’s shedding tears, as are you, rubbing your forehead and saying words of encouragement.

“you did so good baby, so good, our baby is perfect.”

all in all, finnick is the dream man, and would have been such an amazing father.

[certifiedposeidonhater]

what do you have against Poseidon? /gen - asking as a fan of seafam. he wanted to keep Percy and help him avoid his fate, but Sally said no for immortality to both of them so Poseidon respected that and stayed away to not draw Zeus and Hades' attention (bc they would kill Percy).

and after everything's revealed, Poseidon actually does as much as he can for Percy while obeying the no-interference laws? actually no - he breaks them a few times to help Percy. Like by mortal standards I know he's neglectful but by godly standards he's literally the best in pjo?

unless your referring to cotg poseidon which in that case - hate away. cotg poseidon is the worst and feels incredible fake/performative.

love your headcanon posts BTW!! those are some of the best takes I've seen. especially since you dont shy away from the more angsty topics like gabe and the suicidal thoughts.

Okay, so i promise i have many many reasons for this so this might be a bit scattered around so bare with me :))

In the books, we only see him interact with Percy a few times—which is much more than any other godly parent, i’m not denying that—but mainly (practically only) in the first series, before the war and before Percy has to choose between Kronos and Olympus.

So, how much of that do you think was Poseidon being a “good godly parent” and how much of it was Poseidon trying to make his son feel loved so that Percy didn’t turn on the gods. Because after Percy’s 16th birthday, Poseidon basically completely disappears from Percy’s life and when they do interact in say CotG, Poseidon is much more “godly” than he was when he was interacting with Percy in earlier books. He doesn’t try nearly as hard to make Percy feel heard or loved. He acts like every other god Percy has come into contact with.

The idea that Poseidon was just trying to manipulate Percy into choosing the gods’ side would also explain how Poseidon was able to contact Percy so easily without Zeus or the other gods throwing a hissy fit. They all knew that they needed Percy to like them, or at least they needed Percy to feel like they (Poseidon) cared about him.

Again, Poseidon stops interacting with Percy after the Battle of Manhattan. We do not see him at all throughout Heroes of Olympus (except for the final battle, when they fight together. However, they don’t talk after that and Percy is still just a weapon in that scenario. There is no father-son bonding in that scene at all.) I mean, i give him some grace during that time bc he was like tore between Neptune and Poseidon so that kinda makes sense but, with how much he was “present” in the earlier books, it was kinda weird that Percy had ZERO contact with him (if we’re going under the impression that Poseidon actually cared.)

Then, we see him in CotG and he is not like the Poseidon that Percy met in the earlier PJO books. He treats Percy like every other god does; like a weapon. And when he sees Percy in CotG, it’s not to check in and see how he is doing, it’s to give him more quests. It’s to remind him that he will never be anything more than a weapon. It could have just as well been Apollo (well actually not really bc Apollo was kinda all mortal-y at that time so never mind) or Hermes giving him the news and nobody would bat an eye. The Olympians could’ve even planned for Poseidon to be the one to give Percy the information about the quests because they thought it might lighten the blow, or Percy would have the chance of being more calm. It was probably all a manipulation tactic.

Also, i’m still kinda annoyed at Poseidon for him calling Percy a “wrongdoing” and an “unforgivable mistake.” Like i know that might not have been exactly what he meant to say, but he’s literally a thousand year old god. What do you mean you don’t know how to eloquently talk to a child? I feel like that’s just him being lazy. There is NO WAY that a thousand year old being doesn’t know how to put what he means to say into words. I can do that and i’m literally 14. Poseidon saying that and people using the excuse “well he didn’t mean it that way” is giving weaponized incompetence.

And, coming from someone who grew up with a manipulative parental figure, half the “compliments” and praise Percy gets from Poseidon feels very much like…well, love-bombing might be the right word for it? It feels fake and like he’s just trying to make sure Percy isn’t starting to feel bitter toward the gods. Or like he’s trying to distract Percy from the way the gods are manipulating him by showering him with gifts and advice and whatnot. But none of it actually feels real.

The books with Percys interactions with Poseidon are also completely from Percy’s pov, meaning that it’s an unreliable narrative. Percy desperately needs a good relationship with Poseidon because he needs a father figure in his life. There’s a very good chance that the interactions with Poseidon are much worse than what Percy says because he perceives them differently. He makes himself believe that Poseidon is being genuine and that he actually loves Percy because Percy knows he wouldn’t be able to take it if all of it was fake. He knows he wouldn’t be able to handle another person leaving him.

Overall, Poseidon was a manipulative god. He never really saw Percy as his son, he saw him as a weapon, just like all the other gods did. He manipulated Percy to prevent him from becoming bitter toward the gods before his 16th birthday. Paul Blofis is wayyyy better than Poseidon ANY DAY.

Paul>>>>

(also i don’t have time to proofread this so if anything looks weird that’s why)

[dontopenfairies]

Up in the tree house Auggie and Ollie were playing by themselves, sitting on the warm wooden floor and acting out a story with Auggie’s plastic model zoo animals.

Auggie set down the hippo and stood up. “I need to go pee. I’m gonna just be a second.” He started to open the trapdoor to the ladder.

“Wait,” said Ollie. “Just go pee in your pants. No one else is here and it’ll dry before Lina finds out.”

Auggie hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah! It’ll be fine. Look, I already went a couple times.” He sat up on his knees and pulled down his shorts a little bit so Auggie could see.

“Yeah, but you have a diaper on. That’s different.”

Ollie shrugged. “So what? Come on and keep playing with me. It’ll be okay. We’re outside so you won’t mess up any furniture or anything. It feels so good anyway…” He sat back down and let himself relax. “I’m going right now and it feels so good…”

Auggiensat back down tentatively. “Are you sure nobody’s going to find out?”

“I don’t think so. Just go pee.” Ollie picked up one of the animals again and made it walk towards the saucer they were using as a water trough.

Auggie sat back down on the warm wood. He tried to just let go but found that he was a little locked up. “I can’t make it come out,” he said.

“Don’t force it,” said Ollie. “Just relax. Just imagine you have a diaper on. You still have to wear them at night, right?”

“Who told you that??”

“Your girlfriend. Haha.”

Auggie picked up the hippo again. Just a few seconds later, he felt warmth spreading across his crotch. “I’m going,” he said quietly.

“See?” said Ollie. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Yeah,” said Auggie, starting to shift a little bit against the wood.

“Mmm,” said Ollie, setting down his toy and copying Auggie, wiggling a little bit against the wood.

“Can I…um…can I feel what your diaper’s like?”

“Yeah, of course! Are you curious?”

“Um…kinda. I haven’t worn a big diaper like that since I can remember. I just have to wear a pull-up at night.”

Ollie pushed the toys aside and scooted closer. He undid his fly and eased his shorts down again.

Auggie reached out and rubbed it, just for a second before snatching his hand away. “It’s really warm.”

“You can touch it more than that,” said Ollie. “It’s okay.”

Auggie raised his hand again, looking at the floor. He could feel heat rising in his face. He reached out again and rubbed Ollie’s diaper.

“It feels really good. Do you want me to do you too?”

Auggie didn’t answer but scooted closer, also kneeling up onto his knees. Ollie let his hand down onto Auggie’s wet pants and cupped his bulge. “It always feel better when you’re wet,” he told Auggie.

Auggie agreed but he didn’t want to say it aloud. They kneeled there for a couple more minutes and Auggie felt something building in him; he wanted to push Ollie over and rub on him and on his diaper. Just when he opened his mouth to say something someone knocked on the trapdoor. Both boys snatched their hands away.

“Everything okay, boys? Are you playing nice?” It was Lina’s voice.

“Yeah!!” said Ollie loudly. “Everything’s fine! Go away! No girls allowed!!”

“Yeah!!” said Auggie, too. “No girls!”

The trapdoor opened anyway. “That isn’t very nice. You boys better remember who’s in charge at my house.” She climbed into the treehouse and sat down in front of them. “Who’s in charge? I want both of you to answer.”

“You are, Lina.”

“You, Miss Lina…” Auggie looked away. He couldn’t think of a good way to hide his soaked jeans, much less the wet patch on the floor around him.

“What’s going on? You’re both blushing. Were you doing something naughty?”

Neither of them answered, and Lina stood up, hunching over under the low ceiling, and squatted very close to them.

“How come Auggie’s wet himself?”

“We were just playing,” said Auggie, looking down at the floor.

“Auggie, wetting yourself at your age is a big deal. Aren’t you meant to be 24 or something? I’m going to have to tell Polly.”

“You don’t have to tell her…I can just change in to some of Ollie’s pants and…”

“She’s still going to notice when she picks you up. And what’s going on down here?” She pointed to Auggie’s crotch. “It looks like you were getting pretty excited? Are you *sure* you weren’t playing naughty?”

Auggie still couldn’t take his eyes off the floor.

“You seem veryyyy reluctant to tell me. I think I know what that means.” She reached out and pinched Auggie’s ear, pulling him towards the trap door. “You’re coming down first. And then I’ll get my baby, too.”

Ollie watched as Lina made sure Auggie went down the ladder. Then she snapped her fingers at him and pointed at the trap door. He didn’t need to be told twice and hurried down, too.

Lina marched both of the to the bathroom and told them that if they were going to be naughty they needed to be somewhere appropriate. She left, telling them that she would be back soon.

“What’s she going to do?” asked Auggie. “I’ve never been bad at your house before.”

Ollie shrugged. “Usually she spanks me. Or makes me sit in my room. It probably won’t be so bad for me, though. I’m meant to go in my diapers, anyways. I think the rules are different for you.”

Auggie felt his face frown. This wasn’t fair at all. He couldn’t keep himself from shoving Ollie.

Ollie stumbled and righted himself against the counter. “No pushing! Do you want to get in worse trouble?”

Auggie didn’t really care anymore. He shoved Ollie against the counter and grabbed his wrists, squeezing them hard. He shoved his knee under Ollie’s crotch. And then, he didn’t really mean to do it, but as they struggled, his thigh started to rub against Ollie’s diaper.

Somehow they ended up on the tile, still fighting, but also humping against each other. Auggie started to feel that really warm, tingly feeling that made him want to go faster and faster. His hard-on was straining against his underwear and his fly and…

The door opened. “Boys!! Get up right now!”

They both scrambled to their feet.

“No fighting!” Lina grabbed both of them under their arms, hard. “You guys know that’s not okay!”

She pulled them into the bedroom.

“You know fighting is not okay,” she repeated. “Shame on both of you.” The boys hung their heads. “And I know what else you were doing.” Auggie felt his cheeks burning. He opened his mouth but Lina shushed him before he could say anything. “That is very naughty. You boys know you aren’t meant to do stuff like that if Polly and I aren’t around.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Lina…”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re going to be sorry after I spank you both. But I’m not going to do anything just yet. I called Polly and she’ll be over here very soon. She told me not to do anything to you until she’s here to watch.” Lina crossed to the dresser and took out a folded plastic sheet. She spread it over the bed. “Both of you sit down right here and think about what you did. If you’re still right here in the same spot, and you’re good during the punishment, we might let you finish what you were doing. But only if we’re keeping an eye on you.”

Lina shut the door and waited for the latch to click. Then she walked back to the kitchen, smiling to herself. She and Polly were going to have a very entertaining afternoon.

Auggie and Ollie sat in silence. Ollie started to apologize but Auggie shot him a look and he shut up quick. A few more minutes passed with no noise spare the clock ticking in the dark room.

Then Auggie spoke. “Ollie…I kind of have to go again.”

“Okay. Just go in the sheet. I don’t think that’s going to make a different about how much trouble we’re in. Are you scared? Do you want me to hold your hand? I don’t think that’s naughty.”

Auggie set his hand down on the sheet between them and Ollie picked it up and squeezed it. It wasn’t long before Auggie felt his jeans getting warm again. He sighed in satisfaction.

“All done?” asked Ollie.

“Yeah. Ollie?”

“Uh-huh?”

“I think this is going to be okay in the end.”