#or whatever like that. ill have relationships but ill always be at least a step removed from anybody else

[get-more-bald]

the thing about me is that not only have i never been a boy but I've also lost my girlhood. so now everything sucks while I wait to grow into a man

[kiwriteswords]

I Promise You This

Chapter One: All That Emptiness Knows Just Where I Live

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: Chronic illness, reader with past abusive relationship, canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, language, future sexual themes

Rating: Mature for mature themes and future chapters.

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Y/N, the newest and youngest profiler in the BAU, is haunted by her past—an abusive relationship and an illness she keeps hidden from her team. Though skilled in her work, she distances herself emotionally, fearing vulnerability. Aaron Hotchner, her reserved and perceptive boss, begins to notice the cracks in her carefully constructed walls as they navigate high-stakes cases together. Drawn to her resilience, Hotch finds himself increasingly protective of Y/N. As their bond deepens, both must confront their own emotional barriers, leading to an unexpected connection amidst the darkness of their work.

AN: I originally posted this story back in 2021, but for a multitude of reasons, I stepped away from the fandom and removed it. Now, in 2024, I’ve decided to return and revisit this fic with a fresh perspective. I’m currently in the process of rewriting the entire 45-chapter story, adding new depth, and refining the plot. As I re-upload the chapters, I will be including trigger warnings (TWs) for sensitive content. However, if I miss something, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Your comments, shares, and likes/kudos are incredibly encouraging and motivate me to keep working on this rewrite, as well as inspire new content. Thank you for being here, and I hope you enjoy the updated version of this story!— Ki

Masterlist | I Promise You This | Ao3

You stare out the jet’s window, your eyes tracing the clouds below. Sleep eludes you, and the quiet conversation among your team members fades into the background. Music hums softly in your ears, a barely audible escape. You know the odds—three missing children—and yet your mind feels curiously empty.

Laughter breaks through your thoughts. You glance over and see Morgan teasing Reid, as usual. The whole team joins in, and even Hotch chuckles. If he’s laughing, whatever Reid said must have been good.

You smile faintly, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. Isolation is familiar to you—whether you're buried in a book or lost in your music, you’ve always found comfort in keeping a certain distance. It’s not about not fitting in, at least not entirely. The team welcomed you when you joined. They accepted you. But you’ve never quite let yourself feel like you belong.

Only in your twenties, you’ve already lived more life than most people twice your age. A childhood overshadowed by responsibilities that shouldn’t have been yours, and a turbulent adolescence marked by health problems that kept you in and out of hospitals. You were the kid who missed weeks of school but somehow still pulled straight A’s. The one who didn’t go to prom, didn’t have a high school sweetheart, and definitely didn’t have a tight-knit group of friends.

Then there was him. The boy who promised you the world but only gave you heartache. The one who made you feel small, unworthy, broken—both with his words and his hands. The one who convinced you to stay, even when every fiber of your being screamed to leave. You did leave, eventually, but not without scars, some of which never quite healed.

No one on the team knows any of this. To them, you’re just Y/N, the youngest, least experienced profiler in the BAU. A fast learner, sure. Someone who pulls her weight in the field. But you’ve made sure your past is buried deep, nowhere near your file. Only Spencer ever asked why your academic timeline was a little... unconventional. You gave him the same story you’ve told everyone else: You took time to travel.

The truth? You finished undergrad earlier than most, and jumped into grad school while working at a local field office. It was around that time the BAU reached out, and suddenly, your life was moving at a pace you could barely keep up with. Your health remained an ongoing battle, but that was nobody’s business. You’ve never let it slow you down, and you’re not about to start now.

Therapy helped. It gave you the tools to face your past and, more importantly, to reclaim your future. Joining the BAU felt like a step in the right direction—a chance to put your trauma to use, to give your pain purpose. And if you keep your distance from the team, it’s not because you don’t trust them. It’s because trusting people still feels like a risk.

The jet dips, signaling the approach to Phoenix. Your body tenses involuntarily. You haven’t been back here in years, not since... him. You’re not sure how you’ll react once your feet touch the ground again.

"What are you listening to?" Hotch’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

You jump, startled by his sudden appearance across from you. He watches you with that quiet intensity, and for a moment, you wonder how long he’s been sitting there.

"Nothing important," you murmur, pausing the music and slipping your headphones out.

Hotch’s gaze lingers, and you shift uncomfortably. It’s not that he’s unkind—far from it. But there’s something about his presence, his authority, that makes you second-guess yourself.

"You seemed deep in thought," he notes, a rare hint of amusement in his voice.

"Just zoning out," you reply with a shrug. "Long flight."

He nods but doesn’t push. Hotch is observant, more so than the others. He’s noticed the way you isolate yourself on these flights, how you always seem a little more on edge than you let on. But he hasn’t asked, not yet. You’re grateful for that.

"What were you all laughing about earlier?" you ask, more to fill the silence than out of genuine curiosity.

"Reid’s latest hairstyle," Hotch replies with a smirk. "Morgan’s convinced he’s trying out for a boy band."

You laugh softly, surprising yourself. "He does have that early 2000s look going for him."

"Maybe next week he’ll try the ‘classic detective’ look," Hotch says, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

For a moment, the tension eases. You almost forget where you’re headed.

"Have you gone over the case file?" Hotch asks, his tone shifting back to business.

"Yeah," you nod, glancing back out the window. The familiar skyline of Phoenix looms closer. You take a deep breath. "I haven’t been here in a long time."

"Family here?" he asks casually, clearly not realizing the weight of the question.

You shake your head quickly. "No, I just... used to live nearby for a while."

It’s technically the truth. But the memories attached to this city are ones you’d rather not revisit.

Before Hotch can respond, Morgan sticks his neck out from across the aisle. "You lived in Phoenix? How did I not know that?"

"It was a long time ago," you say, deflecting with a practiced ease.

Morgan grins and steers the conversation back to the case, but Hotch lingers for a moment longer, watching you. There’s something about you that doesn’t quite add up, something just out of reach. He’s known you for a year, yet you’re still a puzzle he hasn’t managed to solve. And maybe that’s why he keeps trying.

As the jet touches down, you pull your bag over your shoulder and follow the team out, doing your best to leave the past behind. But Hotch’s eyes stay on you, and for the first time in a long time, you wonder if someone might be able to see through your walls after all.

[tacticaldiary]

hi hello, if you have the chance, could u write a ghost x reader of an overworked/ burnt out reader who faints or something. just stressed out overprotective ghost to warm our hearts <3

thank you so much xxx

Bone Tired

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort ; Fluff

Ghost knows she's been pushing herself but he didn't think it was this bad. She nearly gives him a goddamn heart attack by collapsing right in front of him.

"Don't make me tie you to the bed."

"Jokes on you, I'm into that." She snickers at the long-suffering sigh he lets out.

Masterlist

Just because they weren't deployed on a mission didn't mean things were any less busy for them back at base. Drills, morning runs, training, paperwork, and more; there was always something to keep them busy.

"Focus." The low timber of his voice snaps her out of her thoughts, dragging her back to the present. "I would've incapacitated you three times by now." Ghost says with a frown. Or at least she thinks he's frowning under that mask. He sure sounds like it.

"Yeah, sorry L.T." She blinks, widening her stance and dragging her tired mind to attention. Everything just felt...off. Her clothes were too itchy, the bright fluorescent lights hanging from the room were too prickly, and the training mat under her feet felt difficult to get her footing into. Maybe she was catching a bug? She'd been feeling mildly feverish the past few days, after all, sporting a headache she opted to power through with painkillers.

Grunts and groans and jeers echo around them as others take their turn to spar with each other. She'd already lost against Gaz once, a rare outcome in itself, and now she was pretty sure Ghost was going easy on her. She's surprised she isn't face-first on the mat right now, actually.

Blinking away the knowledge that her arms feel like lead and her mind foggy, she lunges at him with her fist, an attack easily parried and side stepped by the man.

In all honestly, she's known for a while that she needed a proper break. A few days to herself full of nothing. The last op she'd been on had been long and gruelling, a solo one at that, weeks' worth of trekking through a mountain range far south in the cold to get to an isolated camp where their target had been laying low. It was a success, but she swears she can still feel the snow bite into her flesh if she thinks too hard about it.

The moment she'd got back there had been debriefings with Price to attend, files to be reported to Laswell, all the while keeping up with her usual routine and drills...

Her eyes widen as she's spun around, an arm circling her throat and pinning her in a hold.

"You're sloppy." Ghost clicks his tongue from behind her, and if she were any less exhausted, maybe she would have felt a shiver go down her spine.

Here, they were just soldiers, but in private? That's a whole other story. Their relationship had to be kept under wraps for a multitude of reasons, but Simon was one of the best things that had ever happened to her. Having someone who understood her work, who shared the experience and knew exactly what she was talking about, who knew the best ways to comfort and listen and advise her...it was rare.

A rare and beautiful thing, that's what they had. They helped each other grow, made up for the others weaknesses and blind spots.

But they weren't in private right now, so after she taps his arm to concede, he pushes her away, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Are you ill?" He asks tightly, eyes going up and down her body as if he could detect whatever was making her pause. She'd seemed fine the last time he saw her, but clearly something was wrong if she was this...dazed?

She shakes her head. "Just didn't sleep well last night." She lies through her teeth. She couldn't afford to be sick right now, couldn't afford the luxury of wasting time resting. She still had to report to Laswell, attend a meeting on what the next steps were to reach their targets close contacts. Then she promised Soap she'd hit the shooting range with him, and then Gaz asked her to help him with that paperwork he had to fill out...

Taking a step back, she stumbles a little.

It all bubbles up inside her, overwhelming and insurmountable, a mountain of work that keeps piling up to reach new heights and-

Was Ghost talking? She blinks, trying to get the ringing out of her ears. It was loud and annoying, and it made the headache she'd been sporting since yesterday stronger.

Ghost's eyes widen. He's definitely saying something. She hopes Simon knows she wasn't ignoring her on purpose. She was always good at reading him, so maybe if her vision would stop spotting and focus, she could actually see his eyes properly and figure out what was wrong.

In the end, the roaring in her ears becomes deafening, to the point where she squeezes her eyes shut. How easy would it be to just...stay like this. Just for one moment. To revel in the nothingness of the dark, where she got just one second of silence away from the list of things she had to keep doing.

Just one more moment.

Another step back, an unsteady sway.

She hits the ground hard, the last thing she hears being the yell of her name from that familiar, rough voice.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Bleary eyes blink themselves awake, squinting against the warm glow of the lamp by her bedside table. Groaning, she attempts to sit up, only to widen her eyes in alarm when a hand firmly pushes her back.

Instincts kicking in, her hand flies up to latch onto the wrist in a weak grip.

"It's just me." The low voice has her relaxes instantly, hand falling away onto the bed.

"Simon." She says, surprised when her voice doesn't come out as more than a whisper. "Where...what happened?" She winces at the throbbing in her head as she takes in the scene. Simon settled down in a chair next to her, a book laying open faced on her side table.

"You passed out." He says, plainly worried. "The medics said you fainted from exhaustion. Ain't that something to explain, love?" Now that he's ditched the mask, she can see the creases of worry in his forehead, the downwards quirk of his lips. "Damn near gave me a heart attack."

"Passed out?" She echoes, trying to remember. "I...guess I did."

She sure feels like it. Her body feels like lead, as if it's doing everything it can to ensure she stays in bed. Shivering slightly, she looks around for another blanket. When she reaches for the fluffy duvet folded at the foot of her bed, it's immediately snatched out of reach by Simon.

"Give it." She demands, reaching a hand out.

"You have a fever." Simon shakes his head, holding the item out of reach. "It'll break quicker this way."

"I'm fine." She protests, managing to sit up this time under his unimpressed stare. "I'm alright, Simon. Can't afford to be sick right now."

"That's not how it works." He sighs, standing up. "I thought I'd hurt you for a moment." She watches him walk towards the small table near the opposite wall, fiddling with something there while he talked. "Damn near took a year of my life away with how you crumpled onto the mat."

"It wasn't you." She assures him quickly. Some of the tension visibly drains from his shoulder in what she can only assume is relief. Needless as it is, she feels a little guilty. How long had he been thinking her passing out had been his fault? No, this was on her, on her busy schedule and-

Wait, what time was it?

Dread curls up in her gut as she slowly turns towards the small window. The lamp was on when she woke up, of course it was night.

"I was just tired is all." She says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "But I'm as fresh as a daisy now, and I've got so much shit to do." She lets out an anxious, long breath as her brain kicks in, charting how much time she'd lost, how quickly she'd need to work to get it all done-

"I have that meeting with Laswell...I wonder if Price thinks I just didn't show up to his office..." She doesn't realise she's been muttering her thoughts aloud until Ghost cuts her off.

"You're not going anywhere, sweetheart." He declares over his shoulder. "Get your ass back in bed."

"I can't, there's too much I have to do today." She protests. "And I've already lost half the day-"

"I wasn't asking."

"Simon-" He turns around and she finally sees what he's been doing.

"Don't make me tie you to the bed." His threat is much less effective when he's holding one of her mugs that says 'Bad Bitch' in obnoxious neon pink calligraphy, the phrase surrounded by a flowery border. She'd got it for him as a gag gift for his last birthday and had cackled at the dead, unimpressed stare he fixed her with. It had remained in his room for a while before she'd snatched it, claiming she'd actually appreciate it.

"Jokes on you, I'm into that." She snickers at the long-suffering sigh he lets out. Her laughs morph into a deep chest-rattling cough that wipes the smile off her face and leaves her wincing.

Sitting next to her after tossing the pillow onto the mattress, he brings the warm mug of tea up to her. "Easy does it." He mutters quietly when she grabs it from him and takes a drink.

"Thank you." She sighs, handing it back.

"Talk to me." He orders, not unkindly. Simon wasn't someone who was all lovey-dovey, but he loved just as hard and much as the next person. Just because he didn't choose to flourish it with pretty words and smiles doesn't mean she felt any less cared for.

He was a man of action, through and through.

Little touches throughout the day, silent glances checking in with her. Staying by her side during missions, working in tandem and recognising when she needed space versus when she needed him near.

He was her other half, and it had been eating away at him that he didn't fucking realise she was this unwell until the consequences caught up with her.

Ghost won't admit the primal flash of fear that struck through him when she'd crumpled to the ground like that. He thought he'd hurt her while sparring, that he'd done something to make her pass out like that. Even after the medics cleared her and he carried her here, tucked her in and everything, there was still a nagging worry of 'what-if' in his mind.

The relief of hearing her confirm it wasn't him was tainted by the knowledge that he hadn't noticed her pushing herself.

After a moment of deliberation, she gives in, tucking herself back into bed and thinking for a moment. She tells him everything, tells him how she hasn't had a second to herself in these past few days, telling him about the load she has on her shoulders and the crushing time limit ticking down in her ears for every task she had.

He listens quietly, to his credit, doesn't interrupt her even when she trails off, having to muster up the energy to keep going.

The fact that talking tired her out to this degree made his heart twist uncomfortably.

"I didn't think I had a choice but to take it all head on." She finishes, stifling a yawn. She looks up at him for his response when he doesn't talk, finds him staring at her with a half-lidded gaze, a furrow in his brow.

"Why didn't you ask me?"

"Ask you what?" She asks, confused.

"For help."

That was...a good question. It takes her a second to come up with a sheepish answer. "I...I didn't think of that." She admits, drawing out another quiet sigh from him.

"You're going to be the death of me." He grumbles, but she can't complain when he's gently tugging her to the side and climbing in with her under the covers. "I've sorted things out with Price and Laswell. Do whatever else you need to when you're capable of not face planting into the mats again."

A warm feeling of gratitude washes over her, her heart warming with the kind gesture. It was so...it was so Simon.

When he tangles their legs together and tucks her into his side, she wrinkles her nose. "I'm all sweaty." She tries to argue, tapping at his shoulder half-heartedly when he lays down with her, a strong arm around her waist pulling her in.

"I've had your blood on my hands before, I don't think sweat is going to be a problem." She can hear his voice rumble low in his chest, right under where he head rests, and she hides a smile in the fabric of his shirt.

When he runs a hand through her hair, she practically melts against him.

Eventually, her shivering stops, replaced with a bone-deep warmth that nothing could chase away. Simon. The warmth of him, of his care, of his love. She'd take it over a heatpack any day.

His arms around her make her relax. Nothing would nag at her, drag her away to chain her to a desk under Simon's watch, that much she knows. Safe. Protected. The feeling was rare living the life she did with her job, but Simon made it so easy to believe that she was untouchable as long as she was with him.

Before she knows it, her eyes flutter shut and her breathing evens out, because goddamn did the bastard know exactly where and how to touch her to get her all sleepy and relaxed.

"Thank you." She mumbles against him, words half incoherent.

"Always, love." He rumbles back, brushing his lips over her head.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(16/07/2023)

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

For me, the award for character growth has to go to Jin Xiaobao. 🥇

I know Huai’en has developed so much with regard to emotions—it’s like night and day going back to the first episodes—but overall he’s still mostly the same person. He was always smart, and his moral code was always questionable at best because of his upbringing. The biggest difference there now is that he cares about Xiaobao and makes decisions based on what will hurt him. He’s still okay with watching things burn or sacrificing himself if it will help Xiaobao, though. Not a criticism, just an observation. It’s not entirely fundamentally different from the early Huai’en who said that the world beyond his father’s plans wasn’t his concern and fought like he had a death wish.

Xiaobao, on the other hand, is fundamentally different. He has changed at all levels of development. Hear me out.

At the start, he would throw his affections at anybody who caught his eye in the moment and was extremely fickle. Now, he has been told people will set him up with lovely ladies so he can start a family at least twice, but he doesn’t entertain the notion because he knows there are bigger priorities, like his illness and taking care of his family and friends. Given that one of those offers came at the height of his disdain for Huai’en, it’s unlikely that it boils down to simply being lovesick, though that’s surely part of it. He’s been burned badly by that fickle attraction of his this time, so he’s far more discerning about his priorities. He doesn’t leap back into a relationship with Huai’en; even finding out about him giving up his title and getting the emperor to pardon them sent Xiaobao running to warn him about the trap, not running into his arms. His forgiveness isn’t so easily won anymore because instead of acting on a whim, he’s setting aside emotions and willfulness to emphasize prior experience. He knows his emotions and how he acts on them don’t just impact him anymore, so now his willfulness is tempered by his sense of responsibility.

On the subject of emotions, they were also far less stable and more manipulative before. If he didn’t get the responses he wanted, he’d toss a small fit, and his emotions could be like a rollercoaster at times. (“Pour me some water,” anyone?) He even planned to use that tendency to convince his mother their relationship was all right by turning on the waterworks. Now, he’s far more stable even with everything happening to him. By all accounts, this guy should be an absolute mess. He should have flipped his lid when Que Siming insinuated that he wanted to take Jinbao away—permanently. Instead, he doesn’t fly off the handle at things and takes a moment to think rather than base his responses on assumptions, especially self-centered ones.

Speaking of, he’s not at all self-centered anymore. He has repeatedly made mention of the fact that he can’t be a spoiled young master forever and that there is no going back for him. When confronting his feelings about Huai’en, he mentions his parents now being impoverished and homeless before his own struggles; he even talks about Xiaoyu being taken away and glosses over any sense of betrayal in their relationship in favor of focusing on the general betrayal of taking the account book. Even in moments when he could be justifiably angry with Su Yin for trying to keep him from doing whatever he wants with regard to Huai’en, he takes a step back and seems to consider why Su Yin is doing all this. He doesn’t expect Su Yin’s approach to change with his emotions or whims, given how unreliable he knows those have been before, and tailors his arguments to make it about logic and reason instead.

Another segue! Intellectually, Xiaobao has grown so much. On two occasions, he’s had to ask people to basically use smaller words; he passed the brain cell around with Jinbao and Zhaocai and was quite happy to take custody of it as seldom as possible. He still has moments where he doesn’t pick up on things, like not knowing his idioms or Su Yin’s sarcasm about selling Jinbao going right over his head, but he thinks now. He’s so insulated and protected that sometimes he needs a hint to spark his suspicions, but he thinks. All Que Siming had to say was “dahlia” and “Yuxia,” and Xiaobao was able to put together that something in Su Yin’s story didn’t add up. For someone who was teased about not understanding when he asked what Prince Li wanted Su Yin to return to Annan for, he’s repeatedly put together the intricacies of court politics in light of Huai’en’s identity and Su Yin’s plan with Shaoyu. His reaction is a culmination of all the aforementioned changes: not self-centered enough to make it about him even when he knows it really is, not overly emotional enough to be angry about it when he has plenty of reason, and smart enough to know how to address it in conversation. (Does it stop Su Yin from knocking him the hell out because he didn’t come this far for his little brother to hop back into what he perceives to be an abusive relationship? Nope, but you can see that it still means something to Su Yin to hear him speak that way all the same.)

I’m excited to read the book because a story like this really can’t be fully told in twelve episodes, but as far as his portrayal in the series goes, Xiaobao gets the gold medal in development for me. All of the characters have grown immensely from the start, but for me, Xiaobao is the one who has become the most well-rounded as a person through his experiences—including those unrelated to his relationship with Huai’en. He’s still the sunshine boy, but he knows when to rise and set now rather than burning himself and everyone around him out.

[miss-tc-nova]

A Mistake - Jade Leech x Reader

It's okay anon, I too hate myself. This was a fun one. I don't typically write for Jade, but this one was actually really easy once I got the poll results. Speaking of...

I was NOT prepared for that result, but these were the two I thought Jade would confront but would stand up to him in their own ways. But Deuce was definitely a fun pick.

Premise: Jade regrets his breakup

Words: 1,472

~~~~~

               Useful tool: a knife.

               Every decent chef knows a few tricks and it’s nigh invaluable in the kitchen. Dicing carrots, trimming fat, mincing meat, flaying flesh. Removing skin. Cutting. Slicing. Chopping. Stabbing. And stabbing. And stabbing!

               “Jade.”

               The young man snaps to. Upon the cutting board lies a cut of meat, absolutely ruined as a servable chicken breast. It seems his inner monologue has gotten the best of him.

               His housewarden sighs, approaching to examine his work. “What did you do? We can’t serve this, even if Floyd could find a decent method of cooking it.”

               “My apologies. It seems I forgot to grab a new one when I was done.”

               Azul eyes his fellow second-year. “It’s unusual for you to waste Lounge resources. You’re not ill, are you?”

               “No. I assure you I’m perfectly healthy.”

               “Well whatever it is on your mind, perhaps it’s best for you to take the rest of the day off, lest you ruin more of my product.”

               Jade would prefer not to, but graciously bows out of the kitchen.

               It’s been perhaps three months since Jade’s unfortunate error. As rare as these mistakes are, this one has been particularly punishing.

               His partner was perfect. Life had never been so lovely. His love could preempt his every need and solved all his problems with ease. Every morning began with a kiss and ended with at least a dozen more. Together, they indulged in his hobbies, his partner soaking up every bit of information he offered as if it were gospel. There were few disagreements and even fewer arguments. Even Floyd liked the human.

               Yet somehow the serenity of their relationship felt wrong. It was comfortable, effortless—it was boring.

               Or so he thought.

               Jade made the fatal decision to end the relationship. He’d deluded himself so strongly that this relation was now worthless that he felt nothing, even as the pitiful human standing before him began to tear up. There were emotions and questions and confusion, none of which belonged to Jade.

               So that was it. As weeks passed, Jade went about school life as he used to, though he found holes in his routine. The helpful hand he’d grown accustomed to was absent, his forays into the mountains were now solo trips, and he found it more difficult to wake up and fall asleep on his own. The eel chalked it up to the change being so fresh, hoping to adjust to life without soon enough.

               But he didn’t.

               Jade never could shake the feeling that he’d opened a hole in his life that he couldn’t repair on his own. He tried to bury himself in hobbies, tried to pick up more shifts at the Lounge, tried to spend more time with other people, but still he felt something missing.

               Then, one day, as Jade was crossing school grounds on his way to work, he spotted the prefect. Rarely have the two crossed paths since, but there’s no denying the flutter in his chest at the sight. And Jade knows now why his life has been so grey: he made a mistake.

               Always quick to act in correcting issues he finds, Jade took a step. Then froze.

               Those eyes were set alight with excitement and joy—as if Jade had never scarred that precious heart. A smile played on those beautiful lips, adding a heavenly glow to an already angelic face. Yet neither of these pleasantries were for Jade, but for someone else—Deuce Spade.

               Jade quickly took to uncovering the events that transpired after he and his darling parted ways that cursed day. Apparently, it was Deuce who provided support after the breakup. He was the one that helped erase the tears and help bring back that smile again. Now it’s Deuce who benefits from the radiance of the prefect.

               The sight of that happiness is still burned into his mind, igniting the flame that boils his blood. Yes, he messed up, but he can no longer see his life without his beloved. He needs that person in his life again; he needs that light to grace him once again. He has to do something.

               Banished from his Lounge duties, Jade attempts to steal away to the solemn wilderness. This is when he spots the thief. Instinctive hatred floods his system, cooled by the rationality that an assault will only cause more trouble. However, before he’s fully convinced of that idea, he finds himself approaching the younger student.

               “Decue.”

               The Heartslabyul boy lifts his head, full of sweet innocence as the eels closes the gap.

               “Jade? What’s up? Need something?”

               It takes considerable restraint not to wrap his hands around the boy’s throat.

               “I have a proposition for you.”

               “Proposition? If this is another one of Azul’s contracts, I think I’m good.”

               You wish.

               “No, this has nothing to do with my housewarden. The subject of concern happens to be that partner of yours.”

               It appears to take Deuce a moment to get the meaning and now he’s somewhat apprehensive.

               “What do you mean?”

               Jade puts on his best sales smile. “I would be happy to ensure you receive a copy of Azul’s study guides for every test until your graduation, including personal tutoring at any convenient hour.”

               That is certainly an offer on Jade’s part, and Deuce seems to appreciate that.

               “Seriously? But what do you want in return?”

               “It’s very simple.” The smile nearly slips. “I will grant you these generous study aids simply for the cessation of your relationship with the prefect.”

               “Cessation of my—what?” Hands raise. “I don’t think making deals about other people is a good idea.”

               Jade has some few backups. “Mmm, I wondered if that might not be enough. Very well. I would be more than happy to personally fulfill your scholarly duties, should you choose to accept my offer.”

               “Sorry, but this is a bad idea.”

               “I will personally comp your meals at the Monstro Lounge.”

               “No, that’s not—”

               Jade takes a step forward, looming over the man he wants to obliterate.

               Pure hatred grates in his voice. “If you don’t break up with the prefect, I will show you first hand that Floyd is not the scary one.”

               “Jade?”

               His heart seizes. Instantly recovering his smile, Jade faces his darling. “Hello, my dear. It’s been a while. How have you been?”

               “What are you doing here?”

               “I was—”

               He was a fool to think Deuce would keep his mouth shut.

               “I was just asking him about some homework stuff I’m struggling with.”

               That, he did not expect.

               Brows furrow, not entirely convinced of Deuce’s statement. Never before had Jade been subject to the scrutiny of that gaze, but it lashes into his heart. Still, there’s no question of the validity of the lie.

               “Oh…”

               Deuce pulls the prefect’s gaze with such ease, as if Jade doesn’t even exist.

               “Hey, I think I lost my phone. I’m gonna check the potions class; will you check the cafeteria for me?”

               “Sure. Meet up at Ramshackle in fifteen?”

               “Yep. Thanks.”

               In a simple, sweet parting gesture, Deuce leans forward to place a kiss against the prefect’s forehead. Steel claws clamp down on Jade’s windpipe. He wants nothing more than to tear that filthy, incompetent freshman away from his beloved. But if he acts too rashly, the rift he’s torn open will only grow.

               The lovely couple spare smiles and the subject of the previous conversation begins to wander away. Yet as Deuce turns back, so too does the prefect.

               Horror freezes Jade’s veins at the look of sheer loathing and distrust that’s aimed his way. Perhaps there is no repairing this mistake. Then it’s gone and Deuce regains his attention.

               “I’m glad you regret what you did.”

               The utter audacity of this first year. Even though Jade’s pleasant expression fades to a snarl, Deuce does not back down.

               “You caused a lot of damage and it took a long time to start healing. I spent so many sleepless nights in Ramshackle trying to fix what you did. And trying to take care of someone who’s practically given up. All because you were ‘bored.’”

               The merman’s sneer falters.

               “You probably didn’t even think once about all that suffering until you started suffering too. You had it real good—someone who genuinely loved you. But that wasn’t enough for you.”

               Jade’s voice quivers. “I made a mistake.”

               “I know. And I don’t plan on making the same one.”

               With that, Deuce walks away, pulling the phone from his pocket to send a message.

               For a while, Jade simply stands there, lamenting in the fact that he’s powerless to fix what he’s broken. Every word Deuce cut him with was right. Jade’s life would never be the same and it was all his fault.

               All because he was bored.

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[lucygxybaird]

Can I request vampire! Billy? You have to to feed him to get his strength back and he’s always refused to bite you (it won’t turn you) but he has no choice and he’s just so gentle you’re not even uncomfortable with it and it’s a really bonding experience

blood tw, injury tw this prompt is so cute and i feel like the result is not great but!! i hope you like it anyway

When you step into your cabin, you are reminded, in a sharp, sudden second, like a twig snapping underfoot, that humans are only animals in more fragile skins.

You freeze with the instincts of a prey animal, putting your back to the door. You press your lips together as your eyes pry at the shadows pooling in your front room, trying to find proof for the wordless certainty that slithered snakelike into your mind the moment you entered the front door. You aren’t alone in here. Your fingers grope blindly for the doorknob, preparing yourself to throw it open and dash back to the hitching post where you left your horse, when you hear a low groan.

All the pent-up breath rushes from your body. “Billy?” you whisper. “Is that you?”

Another soft groan, the sound of a throat being cleared with great effort. “Yeah.”

Now that you’re capable of greater understanding than a rabbit being harried by a fox, you reach for the lantern you keep on a peg by the door. There are matches in a bowl on the table underneath, and you use one to light the wick. The harsh rasp of the match-head scrapes against your still-frazzled nerves, and your fingers are trembling so badly that it takes you a couple of tries to get the lantern lit. 

“Sorry,” Billy mutters, sounding no better than the match. 

He can tell that you’re struggling to light the lantern, even before the warm glow of the flame fills the room. The feeble light of a sickle moon is more than enough for him to see by. He’s never gone into much detail with you about all that he’s capable of doing, because of what he is. He doesn’t even like to use the word, so you tend to avoid it, too, even thinking to yourself. But you do know his eyesight is much sharper  than yours — in fact, compared to his, all of your senses may as well be like rocks buried in a riverbed, blunted and dull. 

His superior abilities extend to his physical strength, too, which is why you’re especially stunned to see him like this. He’s sprawled out on your bed, not in a pose of relaxation, as if he’s waiting for you to come home; he looks more like a marionette whose strings have been cut, landing in a crumpled, broken posture that he can’t rouse himself from.

“Billy,” you breathe, rushing over to him and setting the lantern on the bedside table, holding his face between your hands. “Oh my God — what happened?” 

He smiles weakly, reaching up to gently — always so gently — grip your wrist. “Jesse,” is all he says, but it’s all he has to say. You clench your jaw, wishing you could go hunt that son-of-a-bitch down right now. 

Jesse and his gang are some of the most ruthless trackers out there, and they’ve always been obsessed with Billy in particular. Billy has hinted to a past with Jesse that he hasn’t told you about yet; all you know is their relationship goes back years, before Billy changed. You have to wonder if Jesse resents him for shedding his humanity, essentially leaving him behind — a part of you understands this ache, because you’ve felt it yourself.

Billy has told you over and over again that he’s never going to turn you, although you haven’t asked so much as hinted, hopefully. You don’t ever want to leave him, even if what separates you is the simple passage of time, age and illness wearing away at your body until it fails. He wants better for you, he told you, than doing whatever it takes to survive; and being turned, for him, was just a matter of survival. He, as always, will do whatever it takes to endure. His fight for justice in Lincoln simply isn’t done yet; now, at least, he’ll be able to pursue defending what is right for the rest of time.

Apart from being with him, it’s what you would do with your immortality, too. He’s insistent, though, just like he’s always been determined never to feed on you. You offered, once or twice, when being on the run made it difficult for him to hunt. He would simply scowl at you — or, at least, at the idea — and hunch his shoulders, saying he would make do. 

Once, in the velvet depth of night, when he was holding you as you drifted off to sleep, he admitted something to you that you aren’t sure he actually meant for you to hear. “I just don’t know if I could stop…”

Looking at him like this, though, you realize that he may not have a choice. His skin look as thin and translucent as wax paper, deep purple shadows visible beneath his eyes, and you swear his cheeks are more sunken than they were when you saw him just yesterday. His gaze is dull and unfocused, his lips pressed together as though bracing against pain. You take a deep breath, and Billy summons enough energy to shake his head. The effort makes his eyes roll back into his head for a moment, before he can focus on you again.

“No,” he croaks. “No.”

“Billy, you have to,” you say, and you’re already rolling up your sleeve. “Look at you. You look like you could be taken out by a squirrel.” He manages a weak chuckle, but that doesn’t deter you. “Just take a little from my wrist to get a little strength back.”

He hesitates, still clearly torn. “Baby — what…what if…”

Well, you think, if — then it won’t really matter to you, will it? You’ll be beyond caring. But you know it would haunt him for the rest of his days, which, as far as you know, will stretch into eternity. 

“I’m not afraid,” you tell him, which is true. The only thing that frightens you is the thought of losing him, especially when you have the power to save him. “Billy, please. If you don’t trust yourself, trust me. I’ll be okay. You need this.”

Billy swallows. You take this lack of protest as agreement, and you reach into your sewing basket, stowed under the bed, and bring up the tiny pair of scissors that you use for cutting thread. Without looking away from Billy, you cut into your arm, drawing the tip of a blade from one edge of your wrist to the other.

As soon as the line of red lifts away from your skin, a scarlet sunrise, you hold your hand out to Billy. You watch as his pupils bloom in his eyes, two obsidian moons that nearly obscure the blue of his irises. His upper lip skims back from his teeth, revealing a glint of white, and he takes hold of your wrist carefully, gingerly, like he’s afraid the slightest pressure will snap your arm in two.

He lifts your bleeding wrist to his mouth.

Your eyes slip closed as he begins to drink. It doesn’t hurt. If anything, it’s blissful, a warmth spreading through your body, starting where his mouth makes contact with your skin and spreading outward, sinking into your muscles and loosening them. Your head drifts back, all your breath pooling in the bottom of your lungs, making its way slowly in and out of your parted lips. You can feel your mind start to come apart, a cloud breaking up as it passes the moon, and your last coherent thought is that you can’t imagine giving this up.

Billy’s free hand cups the back of your head and lifts it back up, and you manage to open your eyes again. He draws you closer, your arm folding between you. His gaze is feverish, but as you watch, the dusky bruises under his eyes disappear, his face becoming full and glowing with health again. His thumb moves in soothing circles over the back of your hand, his fingers curling around yours. You feel entirely, utterly safe, not that you expected any differently. You can feel his adoration in every pass of his thumb against your skin, can feel the weight of it in his gaze, in his grasp. 

And you hope he can feel yours, in your  explicitly given yet unspoken trust, in the way you have not once flinched away from him, in every drop of your blood that passes his lips. 

When he finally draws your hand away from his mouth, you feel a little pang of disappointment.

He cradles your hand between both of us, lifting your knuckles to his lips and pressing a kiss there. “Thank you,” he says, and now his voice is steadier, warmer, the way you’re used to it being. 

It takes you a moment to find your voice. You feel like you’ve just woken up from a deep sleep, where it takes one a moment to return fully to the earth. “You don’t have to thank me,” you say. “Do you feel better?”

He reaches for you, pulling you into his lap. In the same fluid motion, so quickly you barely even catch it, he’s reached his hand into your sewing basket and torn a strip from a scrap of cloth, wrapping it around your wrist to staunch the trickle of blood still coming from the cut. You smile as you lean back against his chest. You’re sure of his answer just by the way he’s moving now, lithe and too graceful to be human, that he’s feeling better — and feeling more like he can be himself with you.

It doesn’t surprise you when he gives voice to your own thoughts. “I told you about what I am a long time ago, cause I knew from the start that I wanted to keep you,” he says. “But I…I always held back, cause I didn’t want to scare you off. Now…” He presses his lips to your temple. “I haven’t felt this much like myself in a long time,” he says against your hair. “I always felt like I had to hide, little bits and pieces, really, but…those add up, y’know? Especially over so many years, with so many people…”

You dig an elbow into his side. “How many of those people were women?”

Billy cups your jaw with one hand, turning your face toward his. You giggle when you see that he’s smiling. “Not that many,” he says. “And I never...” 

As the silence lingers, and he smiles with a shy duck of his head, you realize that if he could blush, he would be right now. You elbow him again, gently. “Don’t go getting bashful on me now,” you tease, and he laughs quietly. “You never what?”

“I never fed from any of ’em,” he admits, and you feel a rush of pride and pleasure so intense that it makes your head swim for a moment. 

“Why?” you ask softly. You settle back against his chest, and his arms tighten around you before he answers. 

“It just felt so — so intimate,” he admits. Now you’re blushing, and he chuckles softly in your ear. “More intimate than anythin’ else. The way you put your life in my hands without a second thought, how you fed me from your own vein. You didn’t hafta do that.” He lifts your bandaged wrist to his mouth and presses his lips to the material wrapped over the cut. “But you did. Cause you knew I needed you. Not many people would be so selfless, or so brave.”

You smile a little, shrugging your shoulders. “I love you,” you say. “Of course I’m selfless with you. I didn’t think of it was brave to let you take my blood, I just…” You turn onto your side, snuggling closer. Billy kisses the top of your head. “I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, Billy. I always want me with you.”

Holding you closer, scooping you against his chest, Billy buries his face against the nape of your neck. “Honey, I promise, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he says, and you hear the smile in his voice. The love. “Thanks to you.” 

[hwaightme]

Feverish

(masterlist) (join taglist)

🌡️ pairing: hongjoong x gn!reader 🌡️ genre: the fluffiest fluff, established relationship, sickfic 🌡️ summary: as you come down with a cold, hongjoong is right there to lift you back up again, be it with soup, song, presence, or all at once. 🌡️ wordcount: 2.4k 🌡️ warnings/tags: questionable editing, proper use of face masks, hongjoong in a kitchen making things, him being a worried and loving boyfriend ready to give you the world, producer joong, he is the medicine actually, discussion of illness and various symptoms, fever, fatigue, distancing 🌡️ a/n: love you @legohwas <3 this was why I was being all cryptic asking about mango milkshakes~ apologies if the lil piece is chaotic and if I disappear into the void ruminating it... but imagine a serenading Hongjoong ahah<333 Thank you so much everyone for likes, reblogs, comments notes, they are always appreciated, much love!

🌡️ perma-taglist: @doom-fics @/legohwas @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @mystar1024 @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt

🌡️ cannot be tagged: @hjoymyluv @memoriesofwoo @ate-ez

A heavy stillness had settled in your bedroom, so palpable, in fact, that you believed if you dared to undraw the blackout curtains which were working wonders to protect you from the city’s night lights, that you would be able to see its every fibre. Perhaps there was this benefit to you being severely under - or even squashed by, the weather; for the first time in far too long you were allowing yourself to lie still, gaze at the ceiling in the semi darkness while swaddled in the sheets and throws and nearly drowning in the pillows which you had gathered from all around your apartment as soon as you had come home from class.

It had been a growing sensation. An inkling, a suspicion, and with every passing hour a sure realisation that indeed, you were catching a cold. Or whatever it could be. Either way, you had crawled home dizzy and fatigued, shuddering from what had turned out to be an alarmingly high fever, and after cautiously peeling your outdoor clothing away to change into cosy pyjamas succumbed to your body’s screams for rest. Drifting in and out of consciousness, you had no idea for how long you had been in bed until you were jolted awake by the turning of keys in the lock of the front door, and a very familiar, albeit highly concerned and timid ‘hello?’. Feeling for your phone, you squinted and fought off the tears that sprung to your eyes from the screen brightness as you attempted to read the time, the action only bringing to a state of shock: you had just spent a precious five hours doing absolutely nothing. A pang of guilt overpowered your throbbing temples; when you had more tasks than the number of heartbeats in a day, including professional, academic and domestic endeavours, having this kind of inconvenience such as an illness was simply out of the question. You cursed yourself, your immune system and the fact that there was no way to be able to schedule ailments or cancel your subscription to them altogether.

“Y/N? You missed our call- Y/N? Y/N are you okay?” you gazed off to the side to see your boyfriend peeking into the room, still in his face mask, beanie and coat, clutching a bag tightly against his chest. 

“Hi Joong… Down with…” you tried to speak, but your voice was still laden with sleep and tiredness that had finally caught up to you. Focusing on the silhouette, you peered in Hongjoong’s general direction, hoping that you looked at least somewhat alive after dozing, and snuggled deeper into the sheets.

“What?” he stepped a little closer, tilting his head ever so slightly. You managed to catch the fast narrowing of his eyes as he most definitely caught onto your state, and the droop in what likely was his adorable shy smile behind the black material. 

“Sorry… it’s just… yeah I’m down with something.” you croaked out, only to throw your face into the pillow you had been hugging, suddenly having found your strenuous staring a little more than overwhelming. 

“Wait Y/N really?” baffled, the man stumbled over his words, and looked for a space to drop the black leather bag, choosing an empty spot by the wall, right at the entrance. Stretching out again, he pinched the end of the beanie to slide it off, revealing black hair, lightly matter and dishevelled from the pressure of the garment.

Hongjoong’s eyes darted over your form while he ruffled his hair, worry growing stronger in his chest as he took note of the items strewn around the room. Your backpack was lying at the foot of your bed, laptop peeking out - it was terribly rare that you would ever come home and not organise yourself. If anything, you would be in the middle of reprimanding him for not putting slippers on and still being in his jacket; but not a peep came from you, and instead you were curled up in the foetal position, blocking out all light, all energy, a barely noticeable tramble rushing through you as you poked your head out again to answer him.

“No, I am just being lazy,” you snapped, your voice muffled by the bedsheets that you kept lifted to cover half of your face. Unusually irritated, you simply wanted to doze off and ignore your condition, hopefully wake up refreshed and be able to go about your day as if nothing happened instead of having your boyfriend subject himself to the risk of catching whatever it was.

“I think it is the universe telling you to catch a break.”

You raised an eyebrow at the statement finding it more than amusing, considering that even when Hongjoong did convince himself or management to stay with you for longer than a couple of hours, give him some time and you would find him in a random corner of the apartment, earphones in, laptop in front of him, an artist lost in his own world. Not that you ever minded, nor wanted that to change; if anything, it was unbelievably soothing, and the occasional clicks on the trackpad or keyboard always ended up becoming your rhythm and motivation as you settled down to work on your own projects. 

But you could not type away alongside him tonight, nor even uphold some banter. You desperately wanted to be snarky in return to his call for your relaxation, wanted to throw a witty comeback his way to point out his own habits, but the words remained on the tip of your tongue as you battled your fever, too tired to care about keeping a civil conversation going. But to Hongjoong, your silence spoke a thousand words; he could practically sense what you were going to say to him, and chuckled, playing with the rings on his fingers.

“I know, I know, but do as I say. And I say rest. I’ll… I’ll call the doctor to arrange an appointment…” he trailed off as he patted his pockets, eventually finding the device and beginning to search through his contacts to find someone from medical staff attached to the company. 

His eyes shot upwards once, twice, over and over again, terrified that your state could get worse at any moment or that you would get stubborn and try to power through and force yourself to work. He was distraught, anxious, even if he would eat pickled onion instead of admitting it openly, out of the desire to keep you as calm as possible. Just as he was about to call, you whispered to him:

“I am an adult-” but your phrase was cut short as he raised his hand.

“Let me take care of you? Please?” you hold a pause, waiting for your senses and your processing to catch up to your surroundings.

“...If you keep the mask on… I am not violent but I will throw hands if you get sick.”

“Alright. Gotcha. I’ll try,” and with a goofy thumbs up, he ambled out of the room, conversing over the phone, returning once to ask you about any other symptoms.

In that moment, when you finally could concentrate on his dark eyes, clouded over with distress and wrapped in a glimmer of affection, you felt nothing but safety. In those fleeting seconds, it was easy to forget your concerns about work, about assignments, about the texts that you most definitely missed. Simply with his serenity, the gestures of his hands as he continued talking about you and then the rocking on the balls of his feet as he relayed to you the doctor’s recommendations and the time of the appointment, you felt your erratic heartbeat slow down. With a satisfied hum you agreed, and shut your eyes, letting his aura envelop you. Perhaps it was for the better that he decided to visit after all. Even when he volunteered himself as the man on dinner duty, you were comfortable - you had made soup yesterday, and hopefully, the toaster was not going to catch fire. You concentrated on his soft footsteps as he moved from one part of the apartment to another; it was easy enough to trace the steps, and you imagined him going from the door where he dropped off his outerwear, to the bathroom to wash his hands, to the kitchen where he would open the fridge and muse what he could heat up.

You were adamant on him not approaching you as much as he could, resulting in Hongjoong pushing the tray with a bowl of warm soup, bread, and oddly paired with a mango milkshake that at least explained a fraction of the crashing noises and a random blast of the blender from the kitchen, every bit like a playful cat. He had the same combination of mischief and enthusiasm in his eyes that did not falter as he watched you take a few tentative spoonfuls. He appeared to glow as you thanked him for the surprise treat, and you could see his mask move to hide what undoubtedly was his precious megawatt grin. But what you could not exactly fight against, not when you could see the long day building up on Hongjoong’s shoulders, was his request to occupy the armchair on the other side of the room in a corner, saying that it was ‘necessary just in case you needed something’, so that he would automatically be on standby and within reach.

It was unusual, letting the hours trickle past like this. Instead of filling every second with something to do, or something to check, or something to plan, you were lying in bed, noticing the time and cradling it in your mind. The ticking of the clock on the wall to your right, furthest from Hongjoong was giving you the impression of grains of sand, dropping down into the palms of your hands only to roll over the palms turned hills to the particles, and continue their fall. Inadvertently, your eyes travelled to your adorable Cromer keeper, still clad in the black mask, face illuminated by the laptop screen. Though he was isolated from reality thanks to his newest pair of airpods and unbreaking focus, you could still read his body language thanks to your brain having grown less foggy after having napped and had a shot of pleasantly sweet and sour mango, the love and effort definitely adding to the flavour.

The furrowing of his brows, the way in which he scrunched his nose and you could see him squint ever so slightly as he felt your gaze rest on him and lifted his head to meet it. The barely noticeable, gentle upward jutting of the chin when Hongjoong wanted you to update him on how you were feeling. How he merely stated, after an alarm which you had not expected him to set made his phone vibrate, that it was time to measure your temperature and see if the medication worked. How as soon as you mentioned water, he did the unthinkable and abandoned his laptop on the coffee table to get you a bottle. Your Hongjoong. The artist, the innovator, the creative genius. A little clumsy at times, unsure of himself and subtly asking for you to confirm if he was doing the right things to help you. So much so, that his enthusiasm approached comical levels, and when you tried to make your grand escape outside of your quarters, he was on full alert:

“Bed rest, hello? What are you doing up? If you needed something I could-”

“Bathroom… Joong… bathroom. I am okay enough to go there.”

“OH. Oops sorry I- I- uh- yeah- ha… ha sorry… I’ll just be right… back… there yeah okay.”

You had to restrain yourself from guffawing, the dull ache in your head reminding you that you would probably need to sleep at least twelve more hours to have a laughing fit and not faint, and instead bit your bottom lip as you openly admired Hongjoong’s growing redness in the tips of his ears, and the lowering of his shoulders as an attempt to appear smaller. It was as if the fever was returning to you once again as you desperately wanted to pat your boyfriend on his head and wrap him up in your arms. Alas, you needed to get better first, for you both - captain’s orders, but it was easy when he was the best kind of medicine. His attentiveness, his patience, his resolve in staying by your side even though you had told him that you would be fine. While you were washing your face, relishing in the sensation of cool water running over your skin, you wondered when it would be appropriate to make the joke that he was currently looking like Hala-joong, and that he should wear the wide-brimmed hat you had hidden in your wardrobe.

Upon your return, nothing changed, just like he said. He was still there, still your precious Hongjoong, still immersed in what you could guess were the finishing touches for a track as he was mouthing the lyrics. You crept back into bed, only one creak alerting him of your presence, but he did not pay it no mind, only sending a wink in your direction as a form of greeting. And you thought that this was how you were going to go back into a healing slumber, until you heard the clicking of the earphones case, and the faint notes of a song, only just beginning - a soothing introduction with a semi-acoustic guitar. As it continued, Hongjoong counted the bars with one hand, and hurriedly apologised to you:

“I was meant to record the vocals but… it felt only right to finish this to the best of my ability now. And uh… stop me if your head hurts.” you rolled your eyes, a smile breaking over your features as you cuddled into the warm blankets, supporting your head so that you could watch your beloved artist and human in his element, sharing his most valuable with you.

He sang softer than usual, careful to not hurt your sensitive eardrums, but the dulcet tones were like the life essence washing over you, lifting you above the spell of illness and immersing you in a total, ethereal bliss. Of course he was going to choose a song that was on theme, on time, lyrically balanced and heartwarming. Of course Hongjoong was going to make you want to weep from the comfort that he was providing. And of course, he was going to respect your wishes and not walk closer to you, but with his voice, with his beautiful rendition of ‘Sleep Well’ by .d4vd from the custom backing track to the added tastefully melodic rap, he carried the love, the care right over to you. Lulling you into a well deserved break from turmoil, guiding you into a better tomorrow. Because how dare a virus be the one to make the love of his life feel feverish, and not him? 

[appaloosawhims]

types of love legacy challenge

roughly inspired by the joy of life legacy challenge challenge by @simelune and time of your life legacy challenge by @aliennooboo

- feel free to use mods, i would recommend deeper conversations and nraas story progression

- i know all the expansions so i used the majority for them in the rules but not into the future because i dont know where that would fit into the legacy

- play on whatever lifespan suits your gameplay and adjust the lifespan to your liking

- this is more based on storytelling rather than completing goals and lifetime wishes but some generations do require you to finish them

- this challenge does require you to live in other towns for some generations i would recommend using nraas porter to move your sim families to prevent file bloating

- for some generations i only had a few required traits, feel free to choose whatever traits you would like to feel the extra spots

- feel free to add rules to a generation if you please

- i only included three generations for now but if i see people playing this ill probably add more

- post your gameplay and tag me and use #typesoflovelegacy so i can see 🫶🏽

generation one

ever since you were a child you have been lonely always looking for someone or something to make you less lonely but eventually everyone you let in left and you where alone again. despite your attempts to make a family it always felt like you where doing something wrong. why would everyone leave you? where you not good enough?

traits: hopeless romantic, family oriented, natural cook

lifetime wish: heartbreaker

rules:

- live in riverview

- get cheated on at least 2 times in your life

- stay loyal to whatever sim you romance at one time never cheat

- only get married AFTER you finish your lifetime wish

- have at least 3 children all from a different partner

- only have a part time job as a young adult when you are an adult quit, go to university for culinary arts and then get a job at one of the restaurants in town

- try to pick al of your childrens traits (if you cant pick the ones from newborn-toddler thats fine)

generation two

you grew up always around a different step parent which desperately changed your perspective on love. you saw your parent (the one who raised you) always with someone else making you think the only real way to be loved is to be loved by multiple people.

traits: commitment issues, diva, great kisser

aspiration: either master romancer or superstar actor you choose

rules:

- live in bridgeport

- have only one child

- never get married

- never get past the ‘friend’ relationship with your child bonus points if you have a negative relationship

- join the actor career

- become at least a 3 star celebrity

- get caught cheating at least once

- have a negative relationship with all past romances

generation three

you saw your parents terrible relationships and vowed never to go down that road. you would stay loyal and always have a loving relationship with each and everyone around you.

traits: family oriented, shy, dog person

aspiration: big happy family

rules:

- live in appaloosa plains

- as soon as you age up into a young adult move out and never speak to your parent again only invite them to your birthday parties

- get a dog when your first born is a toddler when that dog dies get a new one and so on

- never have ‘distant friends’

- go to the festivals for each season everytime they are in town

- join the education career

- go all out for each holiday

- have one romance your entire life

- have a child marry their imaginary friend

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

78 for 🧟:

---

“Sounds like you’ve never solved a bad day with a reality TV binge watch,” Buck observes. 

“You’d be right,” Eddie chuckles. 

“Okay, you’re laughing, but the library has DVDs of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills which I will be using to recover from this extended walk.”

“That sounds mind numbing,” Eddie replies.

“Have you tried it?” Buck challenges.

“Well, no,” Eddie admits.

“Ahh, see? You gotta. There’s not a lot of bad situations watching Lisa Vanderpump scheme can’t make it better.”

“I have no idea who that is,” Eddie says. 

“Oh my god, it’s like you came out from under a rock,” Buck jests. 

“I think it was a closet,” Eddie mumbles. 

Buck chest jumps with an unexpected peel of laughter. 

“Fuck. You’re funny,” he says. 

Eddie smiles at him. It’s a different sort of smile than he’s been using thus far. And for a second, Buck forgets where they are and what they’re doing. He’s completely breathless. Which… Whoa. Is not a feeling he’s expecting? 

“Eddie,” Buck exhales. “I, uh-”

He’s cut off by a sudden rustle of movement on the other side of the freeway barrier. Before Buck can even think, Eddie raises his weapon, side steps around Buck, and fires three quick shots. 

Ears ringing, Buck looks over his shoulder to see three zombies drop like flies. 

“Whoa,” he exhales. “Uh, good reflexes, man.”

Whatever energy had been buzzing between them before has evaporated. The danger having been clearly reinstated like the sounding of an alarm. 

“Thanks,” Eddie replies. “Just good training.”

“Right,” Buck replies. 

The conversation dies down a bit between for a while after that. 

▪️▪️▪️

By the time they’re walking by the Los Angeles National Cemetery, Buck’s brain is all over the place. He feels like someone is pulling his brain apart to reconstruct it or something. He’s not sure what to think. Because there was a moment there where Buck kind of wanted to kiss Eddie. And that’s not the sort of thing he usually wants. But now… Now it’s kind of all he can think about. 

Buck has never considered kissing a guy before. At least not with this level of serious intention. It’s not that he’s never, well, appreciated guys. He has. He’s not so insecure in himself that he can’t say when another guy is hot. Especially their ass. He sees a good ass, he’s gonna think about it. Gender be damned. He’s just never had a reason to think outside of girls, because he’s always been pretty content there. 

Being content doesn’t mean being limited though, right? Or is Buck just in desperate need of some physical attention? Will he go for this, only to discover he doesn’t really want it? That hardly seems fair to Eddie. But then again… How does Buck know what he wants until he tries? And right now, he really wants to try. 

With all this in mind, Buck does something potentially ill advised. Maybe a little invasive. Definitely sort of obvious. At least, he would think so. If he were Eddie.

“How did you know you’re gay?” He asks. Not long after the cemetery.

Eddie coughs. “Uh, what?” 

“Like, you said you got married? You have a kid.” 

“Yes,” Eddie says carefully. “That’s all true.”

“So obviously being with a woman wasn’t, like, terrible.” Buck assumes. “Or maybe it was?”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “No, being with Shannon wasn’t terrible.”

“So how did you figure it out?”

---

78 for 🪞:

---

“Okay,” Tommy says, passing Buck the injera. “What is it?”

“I’ve made a kind of big decision about my life,” Buck says. “One I’m pretty set on.”

For a moment, he feels like Abby. Making a unilateral decision that impacts a relationship without even consulting his partner. And maybe he is exactly like her. Maybe in doing this, he can understand her better. Because he knows he needs to do this, regardless of the romantic consequences. But at least he’s giving Tommy a proper, honest heads up. 

“A couple weeks back, we rescued this kid from a fire at a group home,” Buck says. “A little girl. Six years-old.”

“Okay?” Tommy replies, before Buck can really continue. “Evan, is this your way of telling me you have a love child out there you didn’t know about?”

Buck flinches a little. “Uh, no. No love child. But if I did, would that be a, uh, dealbreaker?”

Tommy frowns. “Well, I guess that depends on the situation.”

Buck’s stomach drops a little. This is not going well for them thus far.

“O-okay, well… Well the little girl we rescued… It turns out we’d saved her before. As a newborn,” Buck explains. “And then she was abandoned. Went into the system. Almost seven years later, she’s never had a permanent home.”

“Hmm,” Tommy says, sort of flatly. “That’s sad.”

“It-it is,” Buck agrees. “So, I got to thinking, how could I help?”

Tommy’s face hardens a little. “Evan, you know that’s not your responsibility.”

“Do I?” Buck replies. “Because, it technically isn’t anyone’s responsibility. But if no one does anything, then what future does she have?”

“I don’t really know,” Tommy says, with a little helpless shrug. His expression seems to say, what do you want me to do here? And, honestly? Show some empathy for Dove. That’s all. Buck isn’t sure why that’s hard.

“I’m going to try to adopt her,” Buck says. He just drops the news. Puts it right out there.

Tommy’s eyes bulge. “You aren’t serious?”

“I am.” Buck grits his teeth. “I’ve already moved forward with it.”

Tommy makes a frustrated noise. Buck’s jaw tightens. 

“Is this because of Christopher?” He asks. 

Buck blinks. That is not at all what he expected to come out of Tommy’s mouth.

“About Christopher?” He parrots. “Wh-why would it be about Christopher?”

Tommy sighs. “Look, I know you’ve been trying to make Eddie feel better as much as you can, but I really don’t think this is the way to do it.”

“What? I’m not adopting a kid for Eddie.” Buck protests. “I’m doing it for her. And for me!”

“Did you talk to Eddie about this before me?” Tommy asks dubiously. 

“Well, yeah. Because he’s a dad.” Buck says. “I valued his input on the matter.”

“But not mine?” Tommy asks. 

---

66 for ❄️:

---

But that certainly doesn’t mean Eddie can’t sit back quietly and collect information. Assess his playing field. Build up a long game. Right? Or is that horrible? Maybe it’s horrible.

For example, when Buck comes over that Sunday, and it’s clear something is on is mind, Eddie isn’t going to not ask to hear about it. Even when it becomes clear who it is about.

“What’s eating you?” He asks, when Buck flops down onto the couch beside him with a heavy groan. 

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Buck replies, waving a dismissive hand. “You don’t need to hear about it, man.” 

He’s been doing that lately. Ever since Christopher left. Buck won’t complain about anything in his life in front of Eddie, with the singular exception of Gerrard. A common factor in everyone’s misery. So if Buck is hesitant to tell Eddie, then it must be about something other than work. 

“Don’t do that,” Eddie says. 

“Do what?” Buck asks. 

“Treat me with kid gloves,” Eddie says. “What’s going on?”

Buck sighs. “It’s not a huge deal.”

“So what? I want to hear about it anyway.”

“It’s… Well, it’s Tommy.”

Oh? Is it now? Eddie tries to keep a neutral face.

“What about him? I thought things were going well?”

“I mean,” Buck shrugs. “They are. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Eddie asks. 

“Mostly,” Buck nods.

“But?”

“But… Okay, when you were hanging out with him, did you ever find him a little…”

“A little what?” Eddie asks. 

“A little condescending?” Buck clarifies. 

“Oh,” Eddie says. “Not really? Why? Is he being condescending to you?”

“I mean, maybe?” Buck replies. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m misreading his tone.”

“Okay,” Eddie furrows his brows. “What’s the context?”

Buck shrugs again. “I think maybe I’m just bad with sarcasm.”

“He is kind of sarcastic,” Eddie says carefully. 

It never bugged Eddie so much. Eddie’s own sense of humor can lean towards sarcasm pretty heavily. But he can see why Buck wouldn’t like it, especially in a romantic context. Buck is so sincere in everything. Loud and passionate about what he’s feeling. Eddie can imagine enough sarcasm might almost feel like a rejection of that. 

[hugsandchaos]

Remember the episode “Two Good To Be True”? How there’s an alternate universe where Knuckles and Sonic are sort of switched, Dave’s a good, smart guy, and Eggman’s color is actually green? I decided to make some headcanons and ideas for it!

To be honest, this is partially for the 6 people who always like these kinds of posts of mine, which I appreciate. You guys are sweet!

•Sonic is dumb, sure, but he’s surprisingly knowledgeable about first aid, a bit of cooking, and the basics of wilderness survival. He mostly knows it because he looks after Tails.

•This Knuckles lives in a treehouse. I can’t explain why, I just think it’d be fitting.

•Both Sonic and Tails live in a house built inside a cave, and Sonic has a hammock inside and outside.

•Dave does his best to make sure Meh Burger’s food isn’t a health hazard and works on his inventions in his spare time.

•Dave’s mother disapproves of him being a hero instead of a villain and they’ve fought about it before. The fights are slowly getting more frequent. Dave is considering the possibility of moving out, and he’s told Knuckles and Amy about this. They both plan to support their friend every step of the way, whatever he chooses.

•Dave tries to insist that his friends don’t have to pay, but knowing how bad the pay sometimes is for him, the group will sometimes put money in the tip jar or on the table and run. Basically the good version of eating and leaving without paying. (Sonic: *whispering* Quick, Tails! While he’s not looking! / Tails: *puts a ten dollar bill in the tip jar* / Sonic: *picks him up and runs* Come on!) I like to think that they were both stifling some giggles, and when Sonic runs, Tails lets it out and it’s this really wholesome scene.

•Tails is obsessed with airplanes. He likes all of Dave’s inventions, but airplanes hold a special place in his heart. Sonic takes him to the library every week to either reread the books he’s already read about them or check out any new ones.

•Knuckles grew up on Bygone Island.

•Tails and Sonic both washed up on the shore one day. (It was a nightmare when they woke up because they both thought they were in danger and panicked.)

•Knuckles looks down on Sonic a little, and not in an ill-intended way?? He just makes comments sometimes. For example, what he said in the beginning of Two Good To Be True: “Now, if you’ll excuse me, the grownups have a job to do.”

•This Sonic simply has to keep at least some of his sass, okay? I really liked that part of his character.

•Tails sometimes figures out the flaws in Dave’s inventions. He’s crazy smart for his age, and Sonic’s proud of him for it.

•Sonic, like Original Boom Knuckles, does have his moments where he says something sensible and smart. Example— Knuckles: Wow, Sonic! I expected you to have more trouble with leg exercises. / Sonic: Knuckles, I run, hit, and kick at the speed of sound. If my legs weren’t strong, they’d be broken to the point where they might as well be amputated a long time ago. / Knuckles: …You make a fair point.

•Instead of Shadow, the “rival” in the story is Rouge. The reason is largely unknown, but my guess is because she keeps stealing stuff. (I wonder when they’ll notice the pattern of the things she’s stealing…)

•Yes, like in the episode, it seems pretty likely that Amy x Knuckles will be a thing. And honestly, I can see them being a pretty healthy relationship. Don’t get me wrong, Rouge and Knuckles being shipped in this AU would be interesting, but I think the main one is going to be Knuckles and Amy.

•Knuckles has Phasmophobia, and there’s definitely a Halloween episode or story of him trying to face this fear. Sonic dresses up as a ghost to try to help, but the costume wasn’t convincing enough to instill any true terror.

•Knuckles is unfortunately a “hit first, ask later” when someone’s causing trouble. Sonic is the opposite, he tries to reason and ask the trouble maker about their motives, usually by disguising it as a joke or jab at the enemy.

•As for Shadow… Well, I guess you guys would have to wait and see, huh?

[wjehfshs]

COD 141 X S/O with BPD

Authors note: everyone with BPD experiences it differently but I’m writing it mainly for me and how I live with it because I need some comfort rn

GN reader, reader has BPD, reader can be seen as like super clingy but remember I’m describing how I experience BPD, I may or may not have a huge bias for Gaz, brief mentions of su!c!d3/s3lf h@rm in Gazs part if you squint, mental breakdowns/manic episodes mention, mentions of hallucinations and delusions

Ghost

He deals with trauma and mental illness himself so he knows how tiring it is

Always asks your boundaries on things, even if it takes hours for you to list them or explain them in great detail, he’s willing to listen just for you

He’d even have a note in his notes app writing down everything he needs to know

If you have therapy he goes with you to all of the sessions unless you ask him not to

Always keeping you updated on where he is

Never leaves the house without telling you first at at least leaving a note

If you’ve split with him he’ll understand you don’t actually hate him, you’re just trying to protect yourself

He’ll try and ask what’s wrong, if it makes you feel better he’ll text you about it when your ready to tell him

During manic episodes he’ll keep an extra close eye on you

Making sure you don’t do something dangerous or spend large amounts of money

If you’re having delusions he’ll sit with you for however long it takes, explaining to you how it’s not possible or untrue, even if it takes weeks to months he’ll sit with you everyday or call you if he’s on a mission and talk you through it

He’ll do whatever to help you

If you’re hallucinating you’ve developed a system with him where if you see something that you think is a hallucination you’ll ask him if he can see it, or hear it, if it was a touch hallucination he’ll hold you until you feel better

He’s very understanding and don’t worry about being a burden he understands how trauma can affect people and he would die for you

Soap

A little less understanding

He tries hard to be but he doesn’t really know much about mental health

Always been the guy to just cry it out and move on

You’ll probably split on him a bit more because he usually shows his love through teasing and jokes

After you explain to him how it affects you, he’ll immediately stop and show you all the love in the world

Also always tells you when he’s going out, you guys both have that life 360 app on your phones so you can see where each other are

At the start of the relationship whenever you would have a breakdown he wouldn’t know what to do

But eventually he learned how to calm you and keep you safe

Asks you everyday how you’re feeling unless you ask him to not ask you

If you’re scared he’s gonna leave you he’s immediately at your side and will not take his eyes off you until he knows you know he’s never going to leave

Price

Probably least experienced around mental health

He tries to always check up on people but he grew up always being told to just push it down and forget about it

Always such a sweetheart though

Will kiss your tears away if you’re crying or having some kind of breakdown or episode

Also checks up on you daily, even if you’ve had a fight or disagreement the night before he makes sure to check up on you

If anyone where to make some kind of comment about you or your BPD, whatever. He’s immediately stepping in and telling the person to kindly fuck off

He knows how sensitive you are so he is always watching you in social situations

Making sure you feel ok, making sure no one upset you, making sure you feel stable enough to be there

The only time he can kind of falter is when you split with him

He is a stressed man so he can accidentally say something hurtful to you if you’re angry at him/split with him

He will immediately apologise and either hug you tightly or leave you be, depending on the situation or what you want

If he’s doing work at home he’ll let you sit on his lap while he’s working and you can come and go as you please he doesn’t mind one bit

The only time you’re not allowed on his lap is during meetings over video chat but those are rare and once they’re over he’s immediately letting you back in

Very protective of you

Tells you if he’s leaving but if he’s leaving and you’re not awake he’ll leave a kiss on your cheek and leave his hat with you on the bed until you either wake up or he comes back

It’s like a little indicator to wether he’s out or not

Gaz

Even if you didn’t have BPD he’d be such a sweetheart who’d praise you everyday

Splitting with him is a very rare thing as he’s such a softie

Also has all your boundaries in a note in the notes app

If he’s out on a mission he’s calling you for hours everyday if he gets the chance

If you take meds he has a little reminder set in his phone for when you take them

Will always insist you have something to eat, a bath, and have a rest/go to sleep after you’ve had a breakdown

He’s always cuddling you

Even when he games he has you either on his lap or an arm around you while he plays

Like his arm is wrapped around you but he’s still using his two hands to play

Bought you a journal to write your thoughts down if he either doesn’t have the mental capacity to let you vent or physically cannot because he’s in the middle of a mission or smth

Even if you haven’t expressed feelings of being a burden, even if you don’t feel like a burden he’s always telling you how much he loves you and how without you he’s nothing

Makes you feel so special

This is a little annoying but he always wakes you before he leaves the house, he wakes you up with kisses tho so it’s ok

If you express you don’t like it he’ll just text you that he’s out if you aren’t awake

If you don’t trust yourself around objects that could be used to hurt yourself he’s locking them away immediately until he both thinks you feel better and you verbally tell and show him you feel better

Showers you with kisses everyday

[shannonsketches]

how does the big man feel about his two moms, what's their relationship like

Oh god OP I have so many feelings about this why would you ask me that here wE GO:

Ganondorf is a total mama's boy -- or was, until he accepted the truth of her.

H'okay, to understand my ridiculously involved perspective on Ganondorf and Twinrova, I am going to remind the audience that I spent a solid ten years working on a Ganondorf backstory webcomic prior to and shortly after Skyward Sword came out. When SS came out, I was angry, obviously, but I adapted my headcanons to include Demise, as it became clear his influence wasn't going to leave in future games.

So. oh god I'm gonna try and make my brain spaghetti as digestible as possible for people who have not known me that long lol bear with me, okay sO!!! SO!!

Demise. Happened. Whatever. But for me, to preserve my precious autonomous complex gremlin from becoming the baby from The Omen, in my little safe space bubble headcanon, Demise was sealed inside of the Triforce, and has been deteriorating for as long as he's been in there. We'll come back to that, okay, just stick that on the corkboard and remember I said that.

Cut to Twinrova. She's 300+ years old. She's lived through two previous Gerudo Kings. In my headcanon, Gerudo males are always born sickly and often don't live very long, which is why the Gerudo kind of ceremoniously decided they're godkings, since they tend to be tragic births, often killing the mother and then dying days or weeks later.

Twinrova, and her magicks, changed this for the king prior to Ganondorf. She helped stabilize his health, and he lived long enough to fight in the civil war. When he died, she realized that she had an opportunity, and when Ganondorf was born, she took it.

You may have noticed that Twinrova is the only Gerudo who can do magic (in OoT, at least). This contributed to a headcanon that she is an arcane practitioner, and a follower of the deadgod Demise. Do you see where I'm going with this? Walk with me.

Ganondorf is born, his mother dies, Twinrova is the only magic user and the only one with the ability to keep this child alive. So she takes him, and isolates him, and not only keeps him alive through his sickly infancy, but also raises him herself. She becomes a strict teacher, and a harsh trainer, and an unapologetically intense parent.

This is, to Ganondorf's knowledge, because the desert is cruel, and Ganondorf is of divine birth (all Gerudo Kings are), and he will have to not only be a protector of his people, but also walk the fine line between ally and threat to Hyrule. He needs to be elite. He needs to be perfect. He needs to embody a god, because quite frankly she intends him to do that.

She's raising a vessel in which to resurrect Demise, and take revenge on Hyrule for all the shit it's pulled for the last 300 years.

But Ganondorf doesn't know this. He fully believes she's preparing him for the realities of his role, and of the world he'll be stepping into as a leader. So he defends her at every turn. When Nabooru points out how horrible she is (she hates Nabooru, if that's not clear), when the late Queen questions her motives and her mothering toward Ganondorf, when anyone speaks ill of her, Ganondorf speaks in her defense. That's his mother, and she was the Gerudo Queen for a time, and she is to be respected as both.

And then he gets the triforce, and that godmatter hits, and he consumes what is left of Demise, and he knows the truth, and he understands, and he is angry.

But she is useful.

So she is not his mother anymore. She is a flunkie, like any other, and he is, for the first time in his life, more powerful than she could ever hope to be. And Demise is dead. He ate what was left of that god's heart and his power is the proof. There is only Ganondorf.

And she'll get what she wants. Hyrule will fall. But she will not take part in it. She's confined to the temple as a watchdog, since she was so eager to be subservient, unless he personally summons her elsewhere. And when she dies, he is much too far gone in his battle with sanity to care.

So, tl;dr:

It's complicated.

[lilioopdf]

mini F2 race predictions

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ ✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊

this is personal bc ive been staying away from tarot and fortune telling for really really long because it just doesn’t align with who i am anymore but i am also a really curious person and this week has been emotionally taxing so im doing this for FUN and for myself

but anyway these are my mini predictions for the sprint and feature race (F2) except im only looking at one driver (and i won’t tag this post because i really don’t want this to show up anywhere)

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ ✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊

sprint race: king of wands, 7 of pentacles, the star

not too bad?? its not amazing but it’s not horrible, just average. and i think that with the seven of pentacles there will be lots of information picked up on or gained from this race, which could really help in the feature race the day after. and with the king of wands it makes me wonder if there’s a possibility of him dominating the race, for at least some period of time? or maybe setting the fastest timing for a lap/sector at least once. with the star, i think a lot of useful data could be collected behind the scenes, like really really useful info that wasn’t found previously. the star kinda feels like there will be certain blessings present, and a wish may be made and granted. the seven of pentacles is usually the final step before the hard work pays off.

significant numbers (in this context): 7, 17, 3, 4

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ ✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊

feature race: 3 of cups, 10 of cups, 6 of pentacles

so so positive i cannot stress this enough— so much celebration, so much fulfilment marking the end of a cycle. maybe some help involved, either given or received. positive, in the way only cool and calm mornings can feel, specifically at 8am, as it slowly gets closer to 10am. idk not much to say but the effort behind this race feels more centred, like there is a smaller group of people being actively involved in this race, and the celebrations may also be mainly for a smaller group of people than usual, but lots of happiness of course. this feels like watching the sunset at a beach, unplanned.

extra: i noticed the devil card pop up but it came with too many cards so i put it back in but it feels like a small warning to not get too egotistical or rude and lose focus on what’s actually important, like safety and relationships, and to not be overly consumed or obsessed by something— like results or incidents on track or the past

significant numbers: 3, 6, 10, 5, 7, 4

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ ✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊

bottom of deck: wheel of fortune

the wheel of fortune usually symbolises luck, or karma. it usually signifies a change in luck, and i always tell people that this change in luck could be from bad to good luck, or vice versa. it’s not a one directional thing— whatever you’ve been experiencing recently, changes. although in this context it definitely feels more positive given the recent dnfs. card number 10. with 11 under it— whatever is received this weekend is well deserved and long time coming

also wait im adding on to this but maybe tyre management might be significant in these two races, in this specific drivers case

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ ✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊

anyway i still don’t know if ill watch the races because both F3 and F2 races have been heartbreaking recently but i might, after this reading— i just pray that pepe does really really well and that there are no crashes and that everyone is safe and happy despite their end positions and that it’s a good weekend for all drivers and mechanics and fans and team principals and any and everyone on earth except mean people

okay byebye ill come back to this after both races are complete and update this

- 🪷

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Hi, do you take requests for x readers? Im really wanting some natemare x reader (they/she pronouns) fluffy cuddles maybe a cute date? Protective and mildly possessive Mare has my heart lol hes so precious and i love him, maybe its a date and Mare left to get drinks or something and a creep wouldnt leave y/n alone so Mare has to step in etc? Its okay if not that and its okay if you dont write x readers too ^-^ thanks :P

Call me Lyxie or Lyx ^-^

(for anon, ill be either Lyxie/Lyx or ^-^ anon if theyre free :P)

Weeeeell, this is a tiny bit awkward, considering the role I wrote Natemare into for Goretober 2022 (sue me, I took inspiration from FNAF lore.) But I'm still happy to write for him again! I really appreciate your patience. Hope it's okay!

(I am SO, SO, SO SORRY this took such an incredibly long time to post! The Goretober stuff and my last-minute Halloween Special Story had already been keeping me busy, AND THEN CHRISTMAS SEASON CAUGHT ME SO OFF-GUARD THAT MY HEAD IS STILL SPINNING FROM IRL CHAOS. I guess I should've expected that, because Christmas is always like that, but whatever.)

(Also, this is kind of my first time writing an x reader type story, or one specifically in a romantic sense, at least. So, sorry if this comes across a bit awkwardly 😅)

(Trigger Warnings: alcohol, eating/drinking, unwanted advances/creepy behavior, body horror, slight physical violence, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

___

You can be described as someone who’s skilled in rolling with the punches.

Now, rolling with the punches doesn’t always mean being able to understand things that really aren’t meant to be understood, but it seems you’ve got a certain knack. 

If you didn’t, then how else would you have found yourself in a nice relationship with a banshee-esque spirit?

Yeah, your and Mare’s first meeting had been a little awkward, considering you’d been sabotaging a cult that was trying to hold blood rituals in his adopted brother’s name, but you two still became fast friends afterwards. (‘Matter of fact, the adopted brother in question is a pretty chill guy, too. Shockingly chill for an eldritch abomination in disguise, at least.) 

Really, dating Mare has helped open up more of reality to you. Pretty much every aspect of the human world has a counterpart for no-so-human entities. (Yes, you sort of already knew about that, but thanks to Mare, you’ve been able to actually explore it for yourself.)

For example: the setting of your latest date. 

Holy Water Distilling Co. was one of many establishments owned and controlled in Phantom’s domain. 

By day, it was a tidy bar offering a pool table in one corner and a stage in the other. 

By night, it was. . .well, the same thing. The only parts of it to change were the clientele, as well as certain items on the menu. 

One particular evening, Mare just so happened to be up on the aforementioned stage, alongside a few of his musician-buddies. You, meanwhile, were seated at the counter, watching and listening as he performed.

(Not that you minded this arrangement. Mare’s affinity for music was what you initially bonded with him over, after all. You’d tagged along on his gigs before, and he’d never failed to make it a good time.)

Patiently waiting for him to wrap up his band’s last song so you two could enjoy the rest of the night together. . . 

“Y’know, it’s always easy to find some nice toys in this place,” an unfamiliar voice whispers from just a few seats away. “But I never thought I’d see a worthwhile human around here.” 

. . .and trying your absolute damnedest to ignore the stranger who just couldn’t seem to take a hint.

Similarly to Mare and Phantom, the stranger in question could almost pass for a human. Just not at the moment, since he’d obviously taken off whatever disguising veil he used (those were pretty popular among this crowd for many reasons). 

His eyes bulged from their sockets, lacking both pupils and irises. Just two orbs a little larger than the average tennis ball, coming in a shade of dark pink that looked more toxic than fluorescent, ever-so-slightly rolling around in his head as he stared at you. The grin he aimed in your direction would’ve been creepy even without his particular mouthful of oily-looking needle-teeth. 

You ground your jaw, feeling one of your hands curl into a fist on the bar counter. 

The bug-eyed stranger seemed to catch onto that body language. Though you didn’t look at him, your peripheral vision still allowed you to see how his smile fell. 

“What? I don’t get any gratitude for the compliment?” Mr. Bug-Eyes asked, his voice changing from smug to indignant in a heartbeat. 

“If you really think that being called a toy is a compliment,” you finally murmur in a clipped tone, “then you’re in for a rude awakening.”

“Oh, c’mon. I know what girls like,” Mr. Bug-Eyes retorted. “I’ll just never understand why you’re all so repressed.”

“I think you’re mistaking repression for self-respect,” you observed. 

You kept your focus on the stage, on Mare and his bandmates. You knew they were on their last song for the night’s performance. The music was winding down, but it was still awesome as ever. He’d asked for your help with lyrics and fine-tuning a good few times in the past, and that had been flattering enough.

But the fact that he was having such a good time singing the stuff that you helped him decide on. . .well, you weren’t sure when you’d stop riding that high, but you certainly weren’t complaining. 

“Fine, fine. I get it: you don’t want things to move so fast,” Mr. Bug-Eyes piped up again, nudging his bar stool a few inches closer to you. He didn’t seem to notice how you automatically nudged your own chair a few inches further away. “Can’t I just get your number, honey? It’s clear you need someone to talk to.”

“I’ve already got that covered,” you replied. “That’s how having friends works.” 

“That’s big talk for someone who’s here all alone,” Mr. Bug-Eyes sneered. 

You feel your knuckles turn white. “I’m not alone.”

“Well, if that’s the case, your company isn’t paying enough attention to you.”

“That’s none of your damn business,” you hiss, trying to keep your voice down. Yeah, you weren’t shy about potentially clocking this guy in the chin if he tried anything, but you still didn’t want to cause a scene. Not when Mare was wrapping up his gig, so close to finally coming offstage and continuing his date with you. “I already told you: I’m. Not. Interested. If you were half the guy you think you are, you would’ve left me alone after the first time.”

Mr. Bug-Eyes gave a melodramatic sigh, and a sickeningly sweet smell permeated the air around you. It almost instantly caused the first stage of a migraine to flare along the bridge of your nose. You shook your head, blinking as your eyes grew watery way faster than necessary.

A chill raced down your spine as you registered the weight of a hand on your head, ruffling your hair.

You jerked back, slapping it away. “Get away from me!”

The quick motion, combined with the smell, caused you to lose your balance. However, instead of collapsing onto the floor, you felt yourself being caught. Despite your now hazy vision, it took no time at all for you to recognize the colorful tattoos adorning your rescuer’s arms. 

Relief sliced through the awful type of adrenaline that was thrumming through your head. 

From there, things moved pretty fast. 

The environment around you was a blur as clouds of dark violet smoke poured from Mare’s eyes, from his mouth, through his skin itself.  

Mare guided one of your arms to rest along his shoulder, helping you to keep up with his pace. 

Cool nighttime air rushed past the two of you; you almost didn’t notice the deep whooshing sound of a heavy glass door being swung open. 

And before you knew it, you were suddenly sitting down again. The weight of Mare’s arm was still around your waist.

“Deep breaths. Take deep breaths,” Mare coached. There was a slight echo in his voice; his pitch seemed a bit all over the place. That always seemed to happen whenever he had too much energy, good or bad. 

You nodded, following those instructions. You raised a hand to knead at your temple. Then, after a moment of scrubbing at your eyes, you realized that you were now in a completely different part of the downtown area. If memory served, you were now a far distance away from Holy Water Distilling Co.

“Are you okay?” Mare asked, keeping a firm yet gentle hold on your hand. 

You finally looked over at him. His eyes were pitch-black, the purple tear tracks on his face now branching out like veins or tree roots. His skin had turned a deathly shade of gray; if you looked closely enough, you could almost see the shapes of his teeth and skull through the barrier. 

Despite his obvious anger, concern and fear were still present in his features. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” you eventually reassured him. Your head still felt a little funny, but now that you were away from the scent, your senses were much clearer. You didn’t hesitate to hug him, resting your head on his shoulder. He returned the gesture tenfold, sighing. 

The minutes dragged along, but you didn’t mind. 

“Whoever that idiot was, I think I’m gonna have to kill him,” Mare murmured after you pulled away. The edge in his voice had died down a bit, and his features were slowly but surely turning less ghoulish, but his eyes remained dark. 

“I won’t stop you,” you hummed, having long-since grown accustomed to his more monstrous side, “but could that wait a bit? Just until tomorrow?” 

Mare squinted at you, understandably incredulous. 

You shrugged. “I mean, you seemed really excited about the movie. The screening’s supposed to start in about. . .” You glanced down to check the clock on your phone, “. . .twenty minutes from now, I think.”

Mare’s eyes widened as a surprised snicker escaped his lips. “Priorities, priorities.”

You tilted your head as you rose from the sidewalk bench. “Consider it your reward for rescuing the damsel in distress.”

“Well, when you put it like that. . .” Mare was quick to follow, locking arms with you as you began strolling together.

[zestyaahbutler]

if nobody fills your inbox like i’m gonna fill heinkel’s ass, they’re not doing it right

HAD TO ASK MY FIRST QUESTION: since i want amulya away from those crusty white men for a minute, how do you think she is as a mother? and what was her brief relationship with integra like?

love your writing so much btw<3

Thank u sunslept, I will provide u with enough Amulya content as you ask for. I salute u in your Heinkel endeavors!!! I be going crazy at the fact that I have such a dedicated fan. Your comments and interactions have made me smile a bunch. I felt soooo bad for not getting this out the day you sent it in. I shall include a doodle for the inconvenience:

Fuck them old guys >:)

Amulya’s relationship with Integra

TW: mentions of suicide, questionable dynamics, mental illness, average Hellsing lore

Amulya was extremely happy to become pregnant with Integra. She first became pregnant with Integra almost 2 years. As I said before, her pregnancy was relatively normal. Her mental state has never been the best but it was at least manageable. 

However, when the full scope of what the organization was revealed to her and Arthur mentioned Integra being designated as the eventual heir, Amulya was very much against it. She was dealing with a ton of emotions and hormones so finding out near the end of her term. For Arthur to lie about her and give her such big news felt like a huge betrayal. She didn’t want Integra to be involved with an organization that dealt with such heinous creatures. Even if it was for the good, she wanted Integra to be normal and grow up to be whatever she wanted. It felt too soon to expect their daughter in a leadership role. As worried as she was, she tried to understand Arthur’s views on the matter and suppress her own opinions. 

Integra was born on October 27th, 1977, at 7:43 in the morning. Fortunately, she was a very healthy baby. Both Amulya and Arthur were ecstatic about Integra coming into the world. It was surreal for her to hold and get to know someone who had been growing inside her for nine months. Even as happy as she was, Amulya developed post-partum depression. She couldn’t say why she felt as sad and guilty as she did but it was an overwhelming amount. She would often cry about how she felt horrible for bringing such a pure human being into the terrible world. She wanted to leave that terrible world and would feel even worse. She was scared of holding Integra herself. Amulya couldn’t bare the thought of somehow hurting Integra. Amulya was also terrified of being alone with her. For months, she relied on nannies, maids, or Walter for helping with Integra. She had a routine of having them hold Integra while she sits next to them. If she ever hold Integra, it was for short amounts of time. 

Amulya felt like an inadequate wife and mother. She had difficulty sleeping. Integra would wake up at odd times at night which didn’t help. She was scared of Integra possibly dying in her sleep. While she trusted everyone to look after her and had more help than she could’ve asked for, there was still always the feeling something could happen. The worst times for her were when she would walk to Integra’s room at night sleep deprived and just look at her. Nothing in particular would happen but she would be thinking about taking Integra and leaving, strangling Integra so she wouldn’t have to live in such a world, or taking her own life. She never acted on hurting Integra but those thoughts were the ones that made her too scared to hold her. 

Arthur was supportive and tried to ease Amulya’s mental state as much as he could. One of the steps he took to help was using one of the organization's psychologists to help Amulya process the information on the organization much better. This was an older woman who had kids herself and was plenty experienced with helping victims with trauma regarding the supernatural. This woman played a massive part in Amulya becoming more comfortable with the organization and keeping her spirits up. 

Arthur was always a very busy man. He always loved Integra since she was born. There were just not a ton of opportunities for him to take time off.

After almost a year, Amulya was able to hold Integra on her own. She even had Integra sleep in the bed with her. Due to her less-than-stellar start to motherhood, she tried her best to make up for it by spending as much time as possible with her daughter. She designated time for herself and for her hobbies but spent the majority of her time raising and doting on her. Amulya wanted to be there for every milestone. Not that Arthur would ever want to break her heart, but Integra’s first word was said around him. Amulya and Arthur were both present when Integra took her first steps. Amulya felt more and more whole seeing Integra growing up. She even saw bits of her personality forming. Integra wasn’t too needy but when she was set on something, she would throw a bit of a fit. It didn’t help that Amulya would give in. These fits were mainly Amulya putting her down for more than a few minutes or not being able to give Integra to Arthur while he was working. This resulted in Amulya spending some days in the office with Arthur while holding Integra. She even had a couch put in his office so she would have somewhere comfortable to sit. 

Amulya adored how Integra looks. Her looking so much like Arthur was the best to her. Integra’s hair was blonde to her surprise. She doesn’t have a clear idea on how the genes were that strong but she wasn’t ever unhappy with it. She was excited to get Integra her first haircut but was destroyed at some of her beautiful hair being cut off. She styled Integra’s hair in bows and clips. She dressed her in fancy outfits and hats. The accessories would come off while Integra was playing but was sure to take pictures of her before they did. Amulya was very excited for the holidays so she could dress Integra up for parties. 

Amulya was picky choosey on who she allowed around Integra. She never had a good experience around Richard. He wasn’t allowed alone with Integra or even hold her. She was convinced that he always had a different motive than getting to know his niece. 

She was ore than happy to show off Integra to the members of the round table. If there as a meeting, there was a chance of Amulya popping in for a brief distraction to announce that Integra had woken up from a nap. 

While she was a very caring mother, she still dealt with depression and anxiety. This might be a little weird to say but just because she was very happy doesn’t mean she never had intrusive thoughts or episodes. The times that she was really bad were impulsive decisions. She never regretted Integra, she regretted being the one to be her mother. Ultimately, she felt like she was too weak and too much of a burden to the people around her.

Just me talking: I hope that helps! <3 If anyone has any more questions, drawing requests, or story requests regarding Amulya, let me know. I apologize for taking a while to respond to this. I got a little too passionate about my small story with her and Walter.

[killin-these-shots-like-r-i-p]

RULES

These will make things so much easier for everyone involved. Please read these, and understand that any steps outside of the boundaries made in these rules are grounds for being blocked. With no warning, no explanation, and no remorse.

If you carry such vitriol for Valentino that you have to make a big scene to me about it, just don’t interact with me. Yes, he is my favorite character, no I do not owe you an explanation. Think what you will about me, it's your loss, not mine.

1. I am very open to shipping! Please do not come to me expecting to ship without discussing it with me, first. I will most likely say yes! I just want some heads up that you’re interested.

I will usually say if I am interested in a ship. This does not mean that I am forcing a ship, simply letting someone know that I am open to and interested in that ship.

Shipping With Me Info Meme

OCs and crossover characters are welcome to try and ship but do not just jump in expecting a ship. Desired characters to ship with will be listed on their shipping calls, but I will never, ever force a ship. That being said, I love shipping and will most likely be into it! Just let them have some time.

I do not have exclusive ships and I will ship with multiples of each character. Val has had like, at least ten Voxes. Please be aware of this.

2. HEAVY warnings for: Gore, blood, canon-typical violence, demons, religious themes, trauma, PTSD, regressive coping mechanisms, monsters, mental/physical/sexual abuse, unhealthy relationships, drug use, alcohol use, witchcraft, cannibalism, supernatural horror, eating disorders, age gap ships, body horror, death, guns/weaponry, abuse, domestic abuse, gaslighting, victim blaming, non/dubcon, nonconsensual recording, cancel culture, cruelty, sociopathy, animal cruelty, animal death, prostitution, slut shaming, coercion, homophobia, racism, fantasy racism, fantasy body horror, mentally ill muses, mental health.

Know that I will not limit myself or my muse in any way if not asked by a specific partner. I will not write rape on this blog, though it can/will be talked about if it happens. Everything is tagged with cw -tag-. If you need something tagged I will tag it happily, just let me know. 

I may forget catch-all tags because I have a memory disorder that makes remembering hard. Please be patient with me and let me know if I forgot to tag something!

ANY HATE that I get is going to be deleted. I am not going to tolerate it on this blog. If you dislike what I write, simply go elsewhere. I will block people who overstep my boundaries, I’d like for you to do the same.

ADENDUM: This is a remake of only Valentino from @e-m-p-error. I was run out of the fandom after 15 months of death threats for writing Val. Just for writing him. I received them, Val received them, and it was horrible, and it was cruel. I am not opening up anon asks on this blog because of that. It was a privilege, it has never been a right.

If Valentino is going to be doing anything abusive or cruel to your muse, you need to clear it with me, first. Please do not drag my muse into episode 4/Poison without talking to me first. You do not get to play my muse, I get to play my muse, and you may not know how MY Val’s abuse works.

My NS/FW tag is (NSFVoxtagram)

For anything else: Please tell me and I will tag whatever you need me to! Just a reminder that I’m not a monster, and I will happily tag whatever is needed. Also, you are always free to ask about what things I tag! I will happily get you a list!

3. If you have an OC, I need to know about them. I would prefer an image and written bio, but at least tell me about them and their relation to my character. Unless you have a good backstory and discuss it with me, no family of him that aren’t canon, please.

4. ABSOLUTELY NO EYE TRAUMA OR DEFECATION. At. All.

5. I have decided to write smut on this blog provided my partner is okay with it. I only talk/plot over DM, I do not rp there. If you cannot do Discord we will figure something else out. I do participate in Sexual Sunday and Hump Day, so Sundays and Wednesdays my memes will be of the horny variety all day.

6. If you have read these rules please say ‘Whatcha cryin' 'bout, baby?’ DM or asks is fine!

7. Please understand that he is heavily canon-divergent. He was originally made before Hazbin Hotel aired and Helluva season 2 was still coming out, and I intend to let canon influence them, but they will remain how I play them currently for the most part.

8. PLEASE no minors. If I follow you and you are a minor, please let me know. I do not have anything against you, but I am not comfortable rping with underage kids as I am over 30.

9. I operate under “reblog karma” rules. If I reblog a meme from you, I will also send at least one ask from said meme to you. I ask that you do the same for me. If you reblog from me constantly and never interact, it is an instant block.

10. Due to an influx in personal blogs following and not knowing rp blog etiquette: I do not mind if personals follow me. I do not mind if you like my threads. But do not reblog my rps, and do not like my starter calls. I understand that you like the gifs and that is fine, but do not interact with my starter calls. It messes up my bookkeeping system.

11. I have the right and ability to block anyone for any reason. Do not come to me about it. Do not block evade. Do not send your friends after me. I only hardblock, I never softblock.

12. Do not bring drama to my doorstep. I don’t care. I don’t want to be involved. I’m not going to be involved in any kind of call-outs, or any slandering of anyone. I do not condone bullying or harassment. If this applies to you and you do these things, do not interact. Only I decide who I will and won’t interact with.

I have never experienced a callout post that had any factual evidence to it. If I am interacting with an actual predator of some sort and you have actual proof DM me about it. This goes double for minors lying about their age. These are the ONLY exceptions to this rule.

13.  I am semi-selective and mutuals only. Due to some recent-ish events, I have decided to become mutuals only. This is because people keep following me and breaking their own DNI. Semi-selective here means that I will write with almost anyone, but I don’t accept one-liners unless it’s a crack thread.

14. If you want to play with her toys but don’t support Viv for whatever reason, DNI. Due to an influx of people following me that think it’s cool to hate on a queer Latina for stupid shit they would let a cishet white man get away with, I felt the need to make this rule. I think it’s pompous and judgemental of you to want to play with her characters and universe while being an outright ass about lies spread about her. Is any creator perfect? No. But you could stand to be a little less of a hypocrite.