#our own future? that we dont know what happens next?

[luv-beam]

IM BAAAACK!!! i was gonna save this as my bedtime story, but then i realized i can't stay up tonight 😭 but all the better for me bc i get to read this little masterpiece early 😌:

• when you don't just have a feeling that today isn't going to go well, but it's DESTINED not to go well... good lord time to panic! also the description of the dress is so pretty rah like the quiet dignity and refinement over opulence, rhe soft rustling of the skirts,, u can really feel the vibe of the family thru this and also the tension w the fact that yn feels everything BUT perfect

• WHISPERING THAT A LADY'S VIRTUE LIES IN RESTRAINT OHHHHHH U CANT DO THIS TO ME NOT WHEN YN LITERALLY IS LIKE RESTRAINING HERSELF FROM HER OWN DESIRES THIS WHOLE FIC U CANT

• fun fact but corsets were never meant to be suffocatingly tight; its kind of just a modern stereotype, but im not mentioning this to diss ur writing or anything !!! 😭😭 i think the tightness of the corset and yns lack of room to breathe is a really important symbol that lends to how she's really feeling. like the physical connecting to the emotional

• okay another comment abt ur imagery bc ur descriptions of the palace are utterly breathtaking 🤧 like White Room Syndrome is scared of u, tara

• i know whats gonna happen, but like the tension and suspense u create is enough to have anyone on the edge of their seats!! like u dont need future sight to be anxious abt what's gonna happen. like will yn get out of this scot-free or will something horrible happen?

• "you are a xu, do not falter" ugh all the pressure and expectations yn is burdening herself w just continue to distress and weigh her down further...

• GIVE THIS GIRL A HUG 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

• i hate that i like,,, get their mother's argument. like im on yn and hao's side fs but also... idk i think she just had sm going on and like mental struggles can be just as harmful as physical ones. im glad hao is so compassionate, and that her mother does have some sympathy for her daughter

• (but i know what comes next 😭😭😭😭😭)

• "a splendid display of athleticism" PLS IM GONNA SNORT SKFNDKFNFNF seokmin does have a knack for brightening the room :'))) even i was trying to mope w our mc, but then that line made me break lol

• HOPE CAN BE A SLIPPERY CREATURE YES WE KNOW .

• TARA U WANT ME TO CRY DONT U (´Д⊂ヽ NOT IN THE WAY U LONG FOR?? THE CHASM BTWN UR FEELINGS AND HIS INDIFFERENCE???? EEEUUUGHHHH!!!

• i hate how supportive seok is being, like hope truly is a slippery creature. i feel like me and the mc both r getting strung along goddamn......

• love the details of the lady's tea and the garden party — great worldbuilding details to get me even more immersed

• AWWWH THE NEW DRESS, HER MAMA'S ADORATION FOR HER UGH 😭😭😭 i hate knowing the future. besides that, love the imagery of the dress like i can piece it together in my mind as if im sketching it out!! its so pretty :')) def befitting of a princess

• such a "slipping thru my fingers" moment 🤧🤧 like it's so starkly different from the time yn was getting ready for the debut presentation where she was just worried and freaking out; now she and her mom are /laughing/ and tho there r expectations, this will undoubtedly ease a couple of those worries

• oh the the anticipation is killing me — and then the ball is positively dismal >~<

• I WAS WAITING FOR SEOK TO FINALLY COME BY AND OFFER A DANCE LIKE UR YNS BESTIE COME HERE AND GIVE HER A HAND BY ASKING FOR HER HAND WINK WINK

• the mamas leading an army line is so funny lol and who said women cant fight??

• BRUH i just speedran five different emotions like HOLY SHIT I LOVE SEOK > holy shit. does he love yn back? > holy shit this hurts > holy... shit... > oh fck. like the immediate realization that snaps into place when u out two and two together. i wanna say she's jumping to conclusions based on seok's initial surprise, but im also cynical like yn is being in this moment and yeah... idk

• OPEN HONEST DEVASTATING. TAKE A KNIFE THROUGH MY HEART ALREADY THE WAY THOSE THREE WORDS PUNCTURE MY CHEST

• the "how foolish of me" not only meant for the fact that she thought he'd gone into this w pure intentions, but also foolish of herself for believeing he actually wanted to dance w her, that she actually had a chance w him... oh i want to yeet myself off a cliff

• omg the argument btwn yn and hao... tensions were high, im afraid... like idk if chucking a shoe at his face was supposed to be funny but i feel yns fury and the angry tears like i know there were better ways to go abt this, but i am all for female rage!!!

• "the bitterness in ur chest is a wellspring of anguish" OHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭😭 oh 😭 like it's catching up to her now. also, just the fact that hope is so slippery and caused her to make her entire reputation crumble is just... someone give this girl a hug, she was not built for this

• YOU'VE TAKEN SOMETHING PRECIOUS FROM ME???? some might say its her dignity, her reputation, her agency,,,, but we all know what it really was... or who...... i love snarling female rage dialogue

• do u know the taylor swift "right where u left me"? yeah thats this whole next section 😭💔 baby just becomes a ghost who haunts the place she was abandoned and wronged

• THAT LAST LINE IS LIKE THE EXECUTIONER'S PULL ON THE PULLEY TO LET THE GUILLOTINE BLADE FLY. LIKE OH THE POWER OF A SINGLE LINE LIKE THAT

despite knowing what was gonna happen, it still hit so hard, or rather, EVEN HARDER this time 😭😭😭 like my mouth is pulled into a permanent frown skcnekfnjf IM SO SAD FOR HER LIKE I DONT MIND BEING A SPINSTER MYSELF, BUT THE EXPECTATIONS THAT COME W HER SOCIAL STATION WONT ALLOW HER TO BE 😭😭😭 she will forecer be haunted by her choises and foolishness and im so sad for her 😭😭😭 tara, u are a cruel (yet talented...) mistress 😭

i... will be back tmrw... 🥲👍

The Somerset Affair | Chapter 2: When the Music Stops

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.8k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, crying, mentions of a panic attack (not being able to breathe), eventual smut, more to be added a/n: sorry sorry i know ch 2 took forever // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys this could not have happened without you // 3rd chapter will be up faster than this one i swear!!!

summary: when the music stops and everything goes wrong, will seokmin always be there to defend you?

comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the fic taglist here!

The morning of your debut should have been perfect. Every detail had been painstakingly planned over months, from the delicate lace of your gown to the pearls in your hair. But as you sit in front of your vanity, eyes bloodshot and heavy with fatigue, you know deep in your bones that this day is not destined to go smoothly.

You had stayed up the entire night, restless, thinking about Seokmin. Every word he had said, every smile, every fleeting touch that had seemed so innocent before now felt charged with meaning, occupying your thoughts and stealing away any hope of restful sleep. The result was staring back at you in the mirror: bloodshot eyes, dark circles beneath them, and lips that trembled as your maid worked tirelessly to dress you. It’s a pity – no amount of powders or rouge can hide the exhaustion and heartbreak written plainly across your face.

The soft rustling of your white debutante gown fills the room, each movement whispering of elegance and careful tradition. The gown is a masterful creation, carefully chosen by your mother months ago to reflect the quiet dignity of your family’s name. Its bodice is fitted, meticulously embroidered with the finest ivory threads that weave delicate patterns of lilies and vines across the fabric, adding dimension without overpowering.

Around the neckline, a border of tiny pearls catches the morning light, giving the gown a subtle shimmer that, like everything else about it, speaks of refinement over opulence. The gown’s sleeves, long and sheer, are trimmed in lace as fine as a spider’s web, designed to lay gently against your skin rather than cling, as if even the gown itself recognizes the demands of decorum.

The skirts cascade from the waist in a perfect fall of lace and satin, layers upon layers of gossamer fabric that float with your every step. Each layer, though fragile to the touch, is artfully arranged to maintain the gown’s perfect shape, a testament to the skill of its makers and the patience it took to assemble. At the hem, more intricate lacework peeks out, creating a subtle scalloped edge that brushes softly against the floor, finishing the gown with a grace that echoes the restraint of your mother’s discerning eye.

You cannot deny that the gown itself is a marvel, designed to highlight and enhance rather than dominate. It is beautiful, in the way a rose is beautiful—with an elegance that feels both timeless and delicate, whispering that a lady’s virtue lies in restraint, in never asking to be noticed and yet never failing to command attention.

But the corset. Oh, the corset. It felt as though it were designed to squeeze the very life from you.

“Breathe in, my lady,” your maid instructs, her voice strained from the effort of pulling at the stiff fabric. She pulls at the stays until your ribs protest in pain.

“I can’t breathe in anymore,” you bite out, trying and failing to draw in a proper breath. The corset feels like it’s made of iron, constricting your lungs until your vision begins to blur. “It’s too tight. I— I can’t—”

But your lady’s maid is relentless, ignoring your protests as she cinches you even tighter. She ties the final knot with a satisfied sigh. “There. That should hold.”

Hold? It felt more like it was keeping you prisoner, you think grimly, but before you can voice any more complaints, your mother sweeps into the room, her graceful presence filling the space with a quiet authority. Dressed in an elegant gown of soft gray silk, she pauses to take in your appearance, her sharp eyes noting every detail.

Your mother’s eyes scan your dress approvingly, but when her gaze lands on your face, her expression falters. “Dearest, you look... unwell.”

Your heart sinks. “I didn’t sleep much last night,” you confess, eyes cast downward, though you don’t dare mention why. The last thing you need is your mother knowing Seokmin has occupied your thoughts in such a way.

Your mother sighs softly and moves to stand beside you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “This day is important, darling. I had hoped you would be well-rested, but...” She trails off, her tone not unkind, but laced with concern. “There is no time now to dwell on it. The Queen waits for no one.”

You nod, feeling a rush of guilt, knowing how much effort has gone into preparing you for this moment. But the weight of the corset and your sleepless night are conspiring to make you feel utterly overwhelmed. Your mother notices, of course. She always does.

“Try not to worry too much,” she says, her voice softening, though it still holds that undercurrent of expectation. “You must keep your chin high, shoulders back. No one need know what little sleep you had. You are beautiful, my dear, no matter the circumstances.”

Her words, though comforting, do little to ease the anxiety building in your chest. But there’s no time left. Your lady’s maid places the final pearl pins in your hair, and your mother gives you a reassuring squeeze before she gestures toward the door. “It’s time.”

Your nerves flutter violently as you’re escorted downstairs and into the awaiting carriage. The ride to the palace feels both endless and far too short. Every bump in the road jostles your already-tight corset, pressing against your ribs and leaving you breathless. The palace is as magnificent as you had heard—no, it’s more. The palace itself is a marvel of architecture, an opulent structure that seems more the work of fantasy than reality. Vaulted ceilings soar impossibly high, held aloft by marble columns adorned with delicate carvings of ivy and mythical creatures that seem to come to life in the flickering candlelight. Every archway is flanked by gilded moldings, winding and curling like golden vines, each detail rendered with the precision of a master sculptor.

Each corner, each angle of the palace seems to lead to something grander than the last, as if it were designed to swallow you whole in beauty. And perhaps it is, you think, as you press a hand over your fluttering heart. For despite the elegance, there is an undeniable sense of intimidation in the sheer scale of it all—a reminder of how small you are in the face of such a place, and of the scrutiny that awaits within these towering, timeworn walls.

You can feel the architecture itself imposing upon you, weighing down like the firm hand of tradition. For a fleeting moment, you imagine yourself wandering through the palace alone, exploring every column and arch, free of the hundreds of eyes upon you. But here, now, with the gaze of history and expectation pressing down, you straighten your shoulders, drawing in a steadying breath, and follow your Mama into the Great Hall. 

The hall is grander than anything you had even dared to imagine. The polished marble floors shine like glass, capturing reflections in delicate ripples that turn the passing gowns of debutantes into pools of lace and silk. Chandeliers hang from above, so immense and dazzling that they appear to drip crystal stars. They illuminate the room with a glow that is almost celestial, casting every inch of the hall in a warmth befitting the Queen herself.

To your right and left, mirrors taller than any man stretch to the ceiling, framed in gold leaf as intricate as lacework. The mirrors hold your gaze as you pass, capturing the girls beside you as they float forward with their mothers, each one a shimmering, blushing vision in white. You see yourself in these mirrors too, and although the gown fits you perfectly, somehow you feel like you’re wearing another’s skin. For a moment, you imagine your reflection whispering back, “Are you really here?”

The walls are covered in the richest velvet, deep greens and ruby reds that somehow make the hall feel even grander, as if you’ve stepped into the very heart of royalty itself. Enormous portraits of past queens and kings line the hall, each gaze strong and serene, as if they’re assessing every girl who dares to walk beneath their painted eyes. Somewhere in your chest, a knot forms and tightens. It’s strange, the feeling of being surrounded by so much opulence, as if the walls are watching, waiting for something that only they understand.

And perhaps that’s why your breath is so unsteady, why your heartbeat seems to echo through the hall in time with your footsteps. The palace, beautiful as it is, leaves you feeling like a creature of some lesser world, an intruder who has somehow wandered into a realm that does not belong to you. It’s not so much a place as a spectacle, a stunning, overbearing reminder of all that you must live up to, of all the scrutiny you’ll face from these grand walls, these glittering chandeliers, and yes, the very Queen herself. Every step feels like you are walking deeper into a lion’s den, where your every move will be scrutinized, your worth as a young lady judged by the sharpest eyes in the kingdom.

You move with the other debutantes, each girl dressed in white, adorned with jewels and delicate veils, the picture of youth and grace. The line seems to stretch forever as you wait your turn to be announced. The air is thick with anticipation, the rustle of satin and silk as the ladies murmur quietly to one another, some excited, others as nervous as you feel. Your own dress, despite its beauty, feels like a trap. The corset restricts your every breath, and the weight of expectation presses on your shoulders like a leaden cloak.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you scan the room, your nerves growing worse by the second. And then, in the far corner, you spot them. Minghao stands with an air of composure, his eyes quietly observing the room, his presence as regal as ever. Your brother watches the proceedings with a detached elegance, his eyes flickering over the debutantes without much interest. His gaze flicks to you, and for a moment, you feel a strange sense of calm knowing your brother is watching.

But next to him, is Seokmin.

He stands taller than most, his posture rigid but his face warm, though tinged with concern. While your brother is a portrait of his birthright and title, Seokmin is different. His gaze is sharper, more intent, and when his eyes find yours, the familiar comfort of his presence makes your heart stutter. You try to remind yourself to breathe, but the memory of his touch, his words, from the night prior clings to you like a shadow.

Seokmin’s expression softens when he sees you, and for a moment, the whole room seems to fall away. His lips quirk in a small, reassuring smile, and though you try to return it, your own face feels tight, your nerves too frayed to muster anything convincing.

As if sensing your unease, Seokmin’s eyes narrow with concern. Does he notice how your corset presses too tightly into your ribs? Or how your eyes are puffy from lack of sleep? The warmth in his gaze is mixed with a flicker of something unreadable, something almost protective. You are painfully aware of his gaze, and the thought of him watching you stumble through this day feels like too much to bear.

The line of debutantes inches forward, each young lady presented with grace and poise, or at least, the appearance of it. Your nerves churn violently in your stomach as your name is finally called. Your mother tightens her grip, ever so slightly, and it’s a silent reminder – You are a Xu. Do not falter. 

“Miss Y/N Xu, sister of the Duke of Somerset,” the herald crows, and every eye in the room fixes on you. “Presented by her mother, the Right Honorable Dowager Duchess of Somerset.”

Your legs feel like jelly as you take your first step forward, your skirts swishing around you. The weight of the gown, the tightness of your corset, and the heavy stares from all corners of the room press down on you. You try to steady your breathing, but the corset refuses to allow for even that small comfort.

Just as you take a step, disaster strikes.

Your heel catches on the hem of your gown.

You stumble forward, arms flailing slightly to catch yourself, but the weight of your skirts and the tightness of your corset make it impossible to recover gracefully. A collective gasp echoes through the room, and you feel your cheeks flush with mortification.

The whispers are instant, rippling through the crowd like wildfire. You can feel the stares—sharp, judgmental, unforgiving. Your mother’s grip tightens, and though she says nothing, you can feel her disapproval radiating through her hold. She doesn’t need to scold you—not in public. But the sting of her disappointment is enough to make you want to shrink into the floor.

Still, you manage to regain your footing, if only barely. You take a shaky breath and continue forward, your knees trembling with each step. But it gets worse. With every move, the corset seems to tighten further, squeezing the breath from your lungs until black spots dance in the corners of your vision.

Just as you’re about to curtsy before the Queen, your knees buckle.

A choking cough rips from your throat, loud and desperate, echoing through the grand hall. You’re bent over at the waist, gasping for breath, your corset pressing tighter with every moment. You cough again, and again, unable to stop, your eyes watering as you struggle to compose yourself.

The Queen, perched on her throne in all her regal glory, watches with a raised eyebrow, her disapproval palpable. Her expression is one of distaste, as if you are a spectacle—an amusing disaster.

Your mother murmurs beside you, “Steady yourself,” and her grip tightens with fury and disappointment in equal measure. It’s too late. Your corset has robbed you of the ability to breathe, and the weight of the entire room’s gaze crushes you. Your vision swims again, and for one horrifying moment, you think you might faint right there in front of the Queen.

Finally, you manage to straighten yourself, gasping for air, your face flushed and tear-streaked. You risk a glance toward the far side of the room, where Minghao and Seokmin still stand.

Minghao’s face is impassive, though his eyes are dark with what could only be disappointment. Seokmin, on the other hand, looks as though he might bolt across the room to help you. His hands clench at his sides, his jaw tight as his eyes flick between you and the Queen.

The Queen’s cold, cutting voice slices through the silence. “Miss Xu,” she says slowly, her tone dripping with disapproval. “It seems you are... unwell.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach. You manage a wobbly curtsy, your knees nearly giving out beneath you again as you lower yourself.

“Perhaps Miss Y/N should reconsider her readiness for society,” the Queen continues icily. “A young lady of such delicate constitution may not be suited for the rigors of court.”

Her words land like a blow. You rise slowly, trying to keep your chin held high, though your hands tremble and your vision remains blurry from the humiliation. All you want is for this moment to end. To disappear.

As you retreat, the whispers rise in volume, filling the grand hall with gossip and speculation. You can feel the weight of every gaze on you, every judgment passed in an instant. But it is Seokmin’s gaze that you search for in the crowd. His eyes meet yours, and though they are filled with concern, they are also gentle, understanding. A small comfort in the midst of your disaster.

Your mother, ever composed, whispers to you as she leads you from the room, her voice calm but firm. “We will speak of this later, darling. But for now, we must leave with grace.”

You nod weakly, still too breathless and embarrassed to respond. And as you step out of the grand hall, the day that was supposed to mark your entrance into society feels like anything but. All you can think about is how miserably everything went wrong—and how, even in the midst of it all, Seokmin’s gaze had found yours, steady and unwavering.

The silence presses on as the carriage trundles through the city streets, each wheel hitting the cobbles with a sound like a hammer to your heart. You’re trapped, here in this carriage, with no escape from your mother’s disappointment or the day’s memories—the whispered laughter, the blunder before the Queen, and the sheer, unbearable heat of your mortification.

Minghao’s hand rests over yours for only a heartbeat, but it’s enough to keep you from crumbling entirely. Though he releases your hand quickly to avoid Mama’s watchful eye, the gesture is enough to ground you, pulling you back to this place instead of letting you spiral into all the things you could have, should have done differently.

At last, your mother clears her throat, a carefully composed sound that cuts through the quiet like a knife.

“Well,” she says, her voice clipped and precise, “that was… quite the spectacle.” Her tone is a blend of disappointment and a tight, forced restraint. “I had hoped, naturally, for a… more dignified presentation.”

You swallow, feeling the flush of embarrassment burn anew. “I—” you start, but the words catch, failing under the weight of everything you wish to explain and the knowledge that no explanation will undo what’s done.

She adjusts her gloves with a sharp, precise tug, a calculated movement that somehow manages to convey her frustration without a single word. “I trust,” she begins slowly, every syllable measured, “that you understand the gravity of today’s events.”

You swallow, focusing on the intricate embroidery of your gown, tracing the delicate threads to distract yourself from the pressing sting of her words.

“Mother, I—” you stammer, but she holds up a gloved hand, silencing you before the words even form.

“We spent months preparing for this moment,” she continues, her voice tight with restrained emotion. “Months, to ensure you would have the debut any young lady of our family should. Your dress, your bearing, every detail was attended to so you would represent us with grace, with decorum. And yet, today…” She trails off, her eyes gliding over you with a look that could curdle milk.

“It wasn’t her fault,” Minghao interjects quietly, and though his tone is gentle, there’s a faint edge to his words, as though even he cannot quite hold back his defense. He shoots a quick, sidelong glance at you, a small, reluctant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The Queen’s hall was suffocating, and the entire affair was clearly designed to unnerve anyone in attendance.”

Your mother’s expression softens just a fraction as she regards her son, but she’s hardly swayed. “The Queen’s hall has been the site of countless debuts. If anything, the occasion called for composure, not… fainting spells.”

You clench your fists, the fabric of your dress twisting between your fingers, and look resolutely at the floor. As painful as it is to hear, you know your mother is not entirely wrong. Today was supposed to be your moment of triumph, the day you stepped forward as a young woman ready for society, carrying your family’s reputation with poise and dignity.

But instead, you remember the heat that had pressed in from all sides, the feeling of your corset cutting into your ribs, how your hands had trembled with each step. It was supposed to have been an easy task, to walk forward, cursty, and meet the Queen’s gaze with calm respect. And yet, you had felt every gaze upon you like a burn, each stumble echoing through the endless hall. And then, Seokmin’s eyes finding yours, calm and steady…

The memory stirs something warm within you, a faint flicker of relief that somehow dampens the embarrassment. The Queen’s gaze may have been unyielding, your mother’s disappointment all-consuming, but for that one moment, you had felt tethered, no longer alone.

Outside, the sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the city as the carriage continues its steady roll homeward. The silence stretches again, and the weight of it settles around you like an invisible veil. Minghao catches your eye, and though he says nothing, the look he gives you speaks volumes—a quiet reassurance, a reminder that this one day does not define you, that he still believes in you despite every misstep.

Your mother finally sighs, a faint softening in her shoulders. “We’ll regroup,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “There will be more opportunities, of course, but we’ll need to be mindful, thoughtful. A second chance may not be as kind.” She glances at you, and though her expression remains stern, there’s a glimmer of something almost like understanding.

The carriage ride stretches on in silence once more, each of you lost in thoughts. You glance out the window, watching the city roll by, lanterns casting fleeting golden glows against the carriage walls. It feels surreal, how a day so longed for turned into a series of mishaps, one after another. But as the carriage rounds a corner, you catch a memory from earlier: Seokmin’s eyes, grounding you, unwavering, somehow knowing how terrifying each step felt, how every misstep seemed amplified beneath the weight of so many watching.

As the carriage wheels finally begin to slow, approaching the gates of your family estate, you feel a shift within yourself. Today may have been a disaster, and yet, Seokmin’s gaze and Minghao’s quiet support linger, like small anchors in the storm of the day.

The drawing room is a sanctuary of elegance, its ornate moldings and rich fabrics designed to impress. Tall windows frame the view of the manicured gardens outside, sunlight pouring through in golden streams that dance across the polished wooden floor. Yet, despite the beauty surrounding you, it feels more like a gilded cage today. The delicate scent of lavender from the nearby vase does little to soothe the turmoil within.

You sit hunched over a needlepoint project, your fingers fumbling with the bright threads that feel foreign against your skin. The canvas before you, a swirl of colors and patterns, seems to mock your inability to focus. Your mind wanders far beyond the needlework, replaying the events of your disastrous debut like a never-ending nightmare. Each time you think of it, a fresh wave of humiliation washes over you, sharp and unyielding, like a thorn that refuses to dislodge itself from your heart.

“Goodness, how is one expected to focus with this nonsense?” you mutter under your breath, the needle slipping from your fingers yet again and leaving a careless knot in the thread. You curse softly, frustration bubbling to the surface.

Your mother sits comfortably in her armchair, her brow slightly furrowed as she loses herself in the pages of a novel, the rustle of paper punctuating the silence. Minghao lounges on the settee across from you, flipping through a collection of sketches, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement at his artistic efforts. Every so often, his gaze flickers towards you, a mixture of concern and curiosity etched into his features, but he respects your silence, understanding that you are still recovering from the scarring events of your debut into polite society.

Just then, the door swings open, and Seokmin steps into the room, his presence a burst of light that seems to chase away the shadows clinging to your thoughts. It has been years since the butler last announced his arrival—his visits are far too frequent now, and you can’t help but feel a mix of warmth and apprehension at his entrance. His usually buoyant demeanor is tempered by a trace of concern as he takes in the scene before him, the way your shoulders droop as if weighed down by invisible chains.

“Good morning!” he declares, his voice bright yet careful, testing the waters of your melancholy. “I do hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all,” your mother replies, glancing up from her book, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “In fact, you may be just what our dear girl needs.”

You offer a small, half-hearted smile, the corners of your lips barely lifting. “And what would that be? A distraction or a dose of reality?”

Seokmin approaches, his smile as warm as the sunlight flooding the room. “A bit of both, if you’ll allow me.” He perches himself on the arm of your chair, leaning in just enough to draw your focus from the needlepoint chaos. “That was quite the debut you had, dear friend. How are you holding up?”

“Barely,” you sigh, tossing the errant needlepoint aside as if it were the source of all your woes. “I feel as if I’ve stumbled through a door marked ‘exit’ into an abyss of mortification.”

His eyes widen with sympathy, and in that moment, your heart flutters, torn between admiration and the painful reality that he may never feel the same. Seokmin has a way of making the world feel lighter, yet your feelings for him are a weight that often threatens to pull you under.

“Ah, yes,” he nods sagely, as if you have just shared the most profound wisdom. “The abyss of polite society can be quite unforgiving. I believe it’s marked with ‘no entrance’ signs, but alas, they are easily overlooked.”

Minghao chuckles softly, his attention now fully diverted from his sketches. “You do have a gift for exaggeration, Seokmin.”

“It’s a talent,” Seokmin replies, feigning an air of grandeur, his hand pressing dramatically to his heart. “But truly, do not let the Queen’s judgment define you. You are far too radiant for that.”

You snort, the sound escaping before you can suppress it. “Radiant? Is that what you call it when one trips over their own gown and nearly faints in front of our sovereign?”

“Why, yes! A splendid display of athleticism!” he shoots back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ve inadvertently entertained a room full of people—something they are certain to remember for ages.”

“But not in the way I had hoped,” you reply, frustration seeping into your voice as the memory of the evening flashes before your eyes, a storm of embarrassment churning within you.

“Ah, but hope can be a slippery creature,” he counters, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “What matters is how you choose to move forward. I have heard of many a lady whose debut was marred by similar accidents—yet they rise from the ashes like phoenixes, dazzling everyone with their resilience.”

“Is that your way of saying I should make a grand return to society?” You raise an eyebrow, your heart flickering with the suggestion. “Perhaps adorned in feathers and sequins to distract from my previous mistake?”

“I’d be the first to support such a feat,” he replies earnestly, the sincerity in his voice a soothing balm for your frayed nerves. But beneath your amusement lies an aching truth: his encouragement only highlights the chasm between your feelings and his indifference. He will never look at you the way you long for.

“Yes, Lord Lee, what a wonderful idea!” your mother exclaims, her book long forgotten. “The Fitzwilliam Ball is to be held in the coming weeks—what a splendid way for our darling girl to re-enter society!”

Your face falls. A ball? So soon? The very thought sends a tremor of panic racing through you. “Mama, I—”

“Yes, Mother, a splendid idea indeed,” Minghao muses, a teasing glint in his eye. When you turn your glare to him, he sticks his tongue out meanly, and Seokmin suppresses a chuckle.

You take a deep breath, fighting against the swell of anxiety rising in your chest. “I’m not certain I’m ready for another ball, not after—” you start, but the words die on your lips as Seokmin’s gaze locks onto yours. His expression is gentle yet determined, a silent encouragement that stirs something deep within you.

“Ready or not, life moves on,” he says softly, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. “You have to take the reins, even if the prospect is daunting.”

You want to believe him, to embrace his unwavering optimism, but doubt gnaws at you. Can you truly face another crowd, the whispers, the judgment? Your heart flutters erratically, caught in a tempest of affection and despair. Seokmin’s eyes shine with an earnestness that quickens your pulse, yet it only reminds you of the gulf that lies between your feelings and his casual indifference.

“Life indeed moves on,” you echo, your voice barely above a whisper, more to yourself than to anyone else. “But what if I stumble again? What if I make an even greater fool of myself?”

Seokmin’s smile falters for just a moment, replaced by a flicker of understanding that cuts through the air like a knife. “We all stumble, but that’s how we learn to rise,” he replies, his tone steady yet soft. “And besides, I’ll be there. I promise I’ll help you navigate any disaster.”

His words wrap around you like a lifeline, a flicker of hope igniting your heart. But as the warmth of his promise settles in, a cold weight begins to press upon you. You look into his eyes, searching for something more, but find only the steadfast gaze of a friend—someone who would catch you if you fell, but only as a friend.

“Right,” you murmur, the pain of acceptance settling in your chest like a stone, heavy and unyielding, a reminder of the distance between you.

The late evening light filters softly through the sheer curtains of your room, casting a warm glow that barely reaches the pile of books haphazardly stacked beside your bed. These books, filled with tales of love and adventure, have provided a much-needed refuge from the reality of your recent debut. For days now, you’ve chosen to cocoon yourself in their comforting embrace, avoiding the whispers and curious glances of society that followed you after your disastrous introduction.

You had resolutely refused to attend any of the society events your mother deemed essential—the lady’s tea, with its orchestrated conversations and veiled judgments, or the garden party, where laughter seemed to echo around you while you felt only isolation. The thought of facing the same debutantes, the same mamas, their glances lingering a moment too long on you, made your stomach churn. Instead, you preferred the solace of your room, the pages of your books offering both distraction and comfort as you lost yourself in worlds far removed from the judgmental eyes of the ton.

But tonight, your mother is insistent. At last, the Fitzwilliam Ball is upon you, and you have no escape from your mother’s gentle chiding. “Darling,” she calls gently, her voice a melody that pulls you from the pages of your latest escape. The delicate scent of lavender wafts through the air as she steps into the room, her presence commanding yet warm. It is an unusual moment—your lady’s maid typically oversees your dressing, managing the layers of fabric and the intricate details of your ensemble. But today, it is your mother who steps into that role, a significant act that carries with it the weight of her affection and a chance to bridge the gap that your previous missteps had created.

“It’s time to get ready, my dear,” she says, her tone gentle but firm, as she approaches your wardrobe. As she opens the doors, the sight of your gown hanging inside takes your breath away.

The dress, an ethereal creation of lavender silk, shimmers like moonlight trapped in fabric. The bodice is adorned with intricate embroidery that depicts delicate vines and blossoms, each stitch telling a story of artistry and care. The sleeves are fitted, with lace cascading down to create a soft ruffle at the wrist, and the skirt flows in layers, each tier of lace and silk billowing like clouds as it moves. It is a gown befitting a princess, meticulously designed to showcase your family’s esteemed standing while allowing a hint of youthful exuberance to shine through.

“This gown is truly magnificent,” you murmur, your fingers tracing the embroidered flowers as your mother gently lifts it from the wardrobe. “I can’t believe you chose it yourself.”

“Of course, I did. It’s time for your grand re-entrance to society, after all,” she replies, a smile dancing on her lips as she helps you into the gown. The fabric wraps around you like a dream, soft and luxurious, but as your mother laces the bodice, the realization of how tightly it pulls leaves you breathless. Each tug of the laces feels like a reminder of the expectations that have come to define you, but your mother’s presence softens the edges of that pressure.

Yet, it is not discomfort that fills the room. Instead, the sounds of your mother’s laughter and intelligence wrap themselves around you. Your mother’s hands are gentle as she fastens each lace, her fingers brushing against your skin in a manner that reassures you. The stern disappointment of your debut, where you felt like a shadow beneath the weight of expectations, seems to dissipate, replaced by her usual grace and kindness. As she works, her voice drifts like a melody, recounting stories from her own youth, her laughter echoing softly against the mirror as if the memories bring light to the room.

With every loop of ribbon and every gentle tug, she weaves a tapestry of love and support, a tangible reminder that tonight is not merely a duty but a celebration of who you are. As she arranges your hair into an elegant updo, delicately weaving in pearl pins that glimmer like stars, you catch a glimpse of the woman she has always been beneath the layers of propriety. The warmth of her presence washes over you, igniting a flicker of hope that perhaps tonight will mark a new beginning.

“Are you ready?” she asks, stepping back to admire her handiwork, a satisfied gleam in her eyes.

“I suppose as ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply, taking a moment to admire your reflection. The gown transforms you into a vision of beauty, yet beneath the surface, you feel a tempest of uncertainty swirling within you.

“Now, let’s see what your brother thinks.” Your mother gestures toward the door, and as you descend the staircase, your heart quickens with every step.

At the foot of the stairs, Minghao waits patiently, the embodiment of duty and familial pride. His presence, regal and calm, adds to the moment’s gravity. Dressed in a tailored coat that accentuates his stature, he stands as the dutiful son and duke, ready to escort both you and your mother to the ball. The contrast between his composed demeanor and your own fluttering heart is stark, yet comforting. As you make your way down the stairs, your mother’s gentle squeeze of your hand gives you a modicum of strength, each step drawing you closer to the world outside that awaits your return.

“Sister,” Mighao greets, mirth dancing in his eyes. “I suppose if tonight is your big night, this gown does not offend the eyes.”

“Minghao!” Your mother’s rebuke is instant, a gentle reprimand that lightens the atmosphere with her authority.

“For goodness’ sake, brother,” you admonish, donning a façade of false bravado to hide the anxiety swirling within. “It seems as if you would simply keel over before you ever paid me a proper compliment!” You attempt to feign indignation, but the corners of your mouth betray you with the hint of a smile.

As you reach the bottom step, he extends his arm, a silent invitation to escort both you and your mother to the ball. It’s a gesture of duty, but there’s an undertone of affection that brings warmth to your heart. He may be the dutiful son and duke, poised and impeccably dressed in his tailored attire, but in this moment, he is simply your brother—standing beside you as a steadfast protector against the uncertainties of the evening ahead.

Your mother glances at both of you, her eyes sparkling with pride and a hint of nostalgia. “Shall we?” she prompts, her voice carrying a note of excitement that sends a flutter through your stomach.

With a deep breath, you take Minghao’s arm, feeling the reassuring strength of his presence as he leads you both toward the waiting carriage. The air outside is brisk, filled with the scent of blooming jasmine and the distant hum of music preparing to fill the grand halls. Each step you take resonates with the rhythm of your heartbeat, a mix of trepidation and hope.

As you settle into the plush interior of the carriage, the door closes with a soft click, sealing you away from the familiar confines of home and ushering you into a world of possibility. The grandeur of the evening awaits, and as the carriage rolls forward, the cobblestones beneath you echo with the anticipation of what’s to come.

You can’t shake the feeling that this night holds the promise of something new—perhaps redemption, or at the very least, the opportunity to reclaim your place among the society that had once felt so cruel. As the carriage sways gently with each turn, you steal a glance at your mother and brother, their expressions a blend of excitement and encouragement. In this moment, surrounded by their unwavering support, you begin to believe that maybe, just maybe, tonight could be different.

Fate is certainly a cruel mistress—despite your greatest hopes, the ball is positively dismal.

The ballroom is every bit as grand as you’d imagined—no, grander. Chandeliers dripping with golden light cascade overhead, casting a warm, ethereal glow over the polished marble floor. The air is thick with the intoxicating scent of roses and jasmine, mingling with the lively music of the orchestra, where violins soar and the occasional trill of laughter punctuates the harmony. Silks and satins swirl in every direction as the season’s debutantes twirl with their suitors, their gowns a riot of color that makes you feel like a ghost in comparison.

But none of it feels as magical as you once thought it would. Instead, you stand to the side, clutching the silk of your gown, its intricate lace and delicate pearls feeling like a weight rather than a luxury. Your mother had ensured that every stitch was perfect, every detail immaculate, to help erase the memory of your disastrous debut. Yet, it hasn’t worked. The whispers haven’t stopped. Even here, amidst the splendor, you can feel the gazes sliding over you, only to dart away, as if your very presence is a reminder of your failure.

The other debutantes are radiant, their smiles bright as they are swept onto the dance floor by handsome, eligible gentlemen. But you... you might as well be invisible.

Your heart sinks as you watch them, a heavy weight settling in your chest. This is meant to be a night of joy and celebration, yet you feel like a fragile glass ornament left behind, forgotten in the bustle of a festive occasion. The laughter and music create a vibrant tapestry of life around you, but inside, you’re drowning in a sea of insecurity and self-doubt.

Just when despair threatens to envelop you entirely, a presence beside you breaks through the haze. Seokmin, as effortlessly charming as ever, sidles up, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “Quite the spectacle, isn’t it?” he remarks, his voice low so only you can hear. “I’m certain some of these mamas could lead an army with the way they maneuver their daughters.”

You blink at him, surprised by his lightheartedness. Despite the heat of embarrassment burning your cheeks, a smile pulls at your lips, momentarily pushing aside the shadows clouding your heart.

Before you can respond, he holds his hand out to you, a silent invitation, and for a moment, you hesitate. Seokmin, who could have any lady in the room, is asking you to dance? Your heart stutters, a wild flutter of hope mingling with anxiety, and you glance around, acutely aware of the whispers beginning to stir again. People are noticing the exchange, their eyes narrowing in speculation. But Seokmin stands before you, his hand outstretched, waiting with an easy confidence that momentarily disarms you.

With a deep breath, you place your gloved hand in his, and he leads you to the center of the ballroom as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The moment your feet hit the floor, however, the murmurs begin in earnest, slicing through the enchantment that had briefly settled around you.

“Isn’t that the girl?” someone whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. “The one who fainted?”

“I’d heard,” another voice chimes in, “that no one would ask her to dance. Poor dear, but what did she expect after such a performance?”

You keep your eyes firmly fixed on Seokmin, but each word is like a needle, sharp and painful, pricking at your composure. The worst of it comes when you catch sight of one of the mamas, her face set in a smirk as she whispers to her daughter—the same daughter you had once taken pianoforte lessons with. The girl lets out a small, mean-spirited laugh, and your stomach twists, the laughter echoing like a death toll.

The memory of your debut hangs over you like a dark cloud, heavy and suffocating. Your embarrassment simmers, threatening to boil over. The murmurs become unbearable, and instinctively, you move to pull away from Seokmin, ready to flee. But before you can, his grip tightens, firm but gentle.

“Leaving so soon?” he teases, his voice low and playful, a lifeline in the midst of the storm. “Didn’t your mama teach you it’s bad manners to leave in the middle of a dance?”

You try to focus on his words, on the feel of his hand in yours, but it’s no use. You feel like every eye is on you, dissecting your every movement, judging, whispering, laughing. Seokmin is a shield, but he can’t block all the venom aimed at you.

“I can’t—” you begin, your voice thick with emotion, but Seokmin cuts you off.

He reaches up, loosening a perfectly pinned curl from your hair, letting it fall gently by your cheek. His eyes are soft, almost tender, and in that moment, you feel something flutter to life in your chest. “Eyes on me, Tulip,” he murmurs, and the way he says it—so calm, so sure—makes your heart skip a beat.

For the briefest moment, you think he might love you. That despite the gossip, despite the humiliation, Seokmin sees you—the girl beneath the debutante, the one who has admired him from afar for so long. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you see Minghao. He stands by the edge of the ballroom, watching. And then—he nods. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but Seokmin notices, and he nods back.

Your blood runs cold.

You blink up at Seokmin, the warmth in your chest turning to ice. “Did you do this because Minghao asked you to?” The words slip out before you can stop them, low and desperate, laced with betrayal.

Seokmin’s brow furrows. “Do what?”

“This. The dance.” You glance around at the swirling crowd, the eyes that have never left you. “The attention. Did you ask me because he wanted you to? To salvage my prospects?”

His confusion is genuine, but the truth is written in his face—open, honest, and devastating. He hesitates, and it’s all you need to know.

“Damn you,” you whisper, voice shaking with fury and hurt. His eyes widen, shocked by the venom in your voice, the curse slipping from your lips like something foreign. “Damn you, Lee Seokmin.”

“Y/N—” he starts, his voice softening, trying to explain, to defend himself. But you don’t give him the chance.

“I thought,” you continue, the words tumbling out in a rush, “I thought you asked me because you wanted to, not because you were told to. I thought you held me in higher regard than this.” You laugh bitterly, a sound that catches in your throat. “How foolish of me.”

The onlookers are whispering more now, their curiosity piqued by the tension in the air, the way your voice trembles with barely contained emotion. But you don’t care. You’re done caring.

With a mocking curtsy, you drop your hands from his and step back. “My lord,” you say, dripping with sarcasm, “I do apologize for any inconvenience to your social standing.”

Seokmin’s eyes widen, panic flashing in them as he realizes the gravity of your words, the weight of what you’re about to do. “Y/N, wait—”

But you don’t wait. You turn on your heel and stalk toward the ballroom’s exit, your skirts swirling around you in a flurry of lilac silk and lace, your heart pounding painfully in your chest. The gasps and murmurs of the guests fade into the background as you flee, your vision blurred with unshed tears.

Behind you, Seokmin’s voice calls out, desperate, pleading. “Y/N, please—stay—”

But you don’t look back. You run.

The chill of the night air bites at your skin as you emerge from the grand ballroom, the sounds of the festivities quickly swallowed by the night. Minghao is hot on your heels, and you hear the familiar click of his shoes echoing against the cobblestone streets. As you enter the carriage, your fury erupts like a dam breaking.

“How dare you meddle in my life?” you exclaim, the words bursting forth with a fervor that sends a shiver down your spine. The tears spill over, mingling with the delicate fabric, each droplet a testament to your exasperation. “I wish to be left alone!”

Minghao, ever the picture of serene composure, raises an eyebrow, though his calm demeanor only serves to ignite your temper further. “I’m only trying to help you, dear sister,” he replies, his voice as soothing as a summer breeze.

“Help? Is that what you call this? You think I’m some delicate flower that requires your constant tending?” Your heart beats faster, each pulse an echo of your indignation. “You are not my keeper, Minghao!”

He opens his mouth, surely to deliver some well-meaning retort, but you are not in the mood for restraint. “You think I can’t manage my own affairs? That I need you to dictate who I should associate with? Let me remind you, I am not a child!”

In a fit of fury, you throw one of your shoes toward him, the delicate slipper soaring through the air; Minghao ducks just in time, the shoe landing with a soft thud against the carriage wall.

“Is this truly your idea of a civilized discussion?” he remarks, feigning offense. “Throwing footwear instead of engaging in rational discourse? My, how you’ve mastered the art of temper tantrums!”

“Better to throw a shoe than to be lectured like a schoolgirl!” you counter, your voice rising to match his. “You presume to know what is best for me, but you are merely reflecting your own apprehensions! You have no concept of my struggles!”

Minghao’s brow furrows, and for a fleeting moment, his expression softens, as if he might relent. But then he leans forward, his voice low and fervent. “And you believe that sulking in the corner will resolve anything? You are only isolating yourself further!”

“Perhaps I wish to be alone!” you declare, your voice ringing with defiance, the words spilling out like water from a broken dam. “Perhaps I grow weary of this charade, that everything is perfect when it is most decidedly not!”

A tense silence envelops the carriage, the air thick with unspoken words. You both breathe heavily, the conflict hanging between you like a fine silk thread ready to snap. The rest of the ride is steeped in a heavy silence, each passing moment thickening the air with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You lean against the plush seat of the carriage, your gaze fixed on the world outside. The blurred lights of the city flicker past, dimming into the encroaching darkness, and with each glimmer that fades from view, a piece of your heart seems to shatter.

Inside, your thoughts spiral. Betrayal gnaws at you like a ravenous beast, devouring any remnants of confidence you had managed to muster before the ball. Seokmin was supposed to be your ally in this fight, your so-called “loyal servant”; a beacon of warmth amidst hushed whispers. Yet now, as the reality settles in, you realize he is merely Minghao's friend, not yours. 

How could you have been so naïve? Your mind races back to moments you once cherished: the laughter shared over private nicknames, the comfort of his presence when you felt small and insignificant. He had danced with you, yes, but it had been an act of duty, an obligation to your brother, not a genuine desire to hold you close. You had hoped, foolishly, that he might look beyond your failed debut, that he might understand the person beneath the gown and lace. Yet here you are, reduced to a mere pawn in a game you didn’t even want to play.

A sob catches in your throat, but you swallow it down. Instead, you grip the edges of your gown tightly, feeling the intricate lace and delicate pearls dig into your palms, until you are sure you will have bruises in the morning.

How could Seokmin have allowed himself to be used this way? Did he not care enough to stand by you when it mattered most? He had seen you, yes, but only through the lens of loyalty to Minghao, not as the woman you wished to be, not as the friend you had thought he saw.

By the time the carriage arrives at your home, the bitterness in your chest is a wellspring of anguish. The vibrant ball is now a distant memory, a dream turned nightmare, and all you can do is silently mourn the friendship you thought would endure. You glance at Minghao, his face set in a mask of determination, oblivious to the storm of emotion swirling inside you.

As you step out of the carriage, he follows closely behind, his footsteps heavy with regret. “Y/N,” he begins, his voice low and earnest, “I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought—”

You cut him off, spinning to face him, your expression fierce with hurt. “It’s too late, brother,” you declare, the words like shards of glass spilling from your lips. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. You’ve ruined everything.”

His eyes widen, a mixture of shock and remorse flooding his features. “I never meant to hurt you—”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant!” you snap, frustration and pain intertwining in a chaotic dance. “You acted without thinking. You’ve taken something precious from me.”

Minghao opens his mouth to argue, to defend himself, but the words die on his lips. The truth hangs in the air, heavy and palpable, as the reality of your fractured trust settles between you.

For the rest of the season, you do your best to blend into the walls at every ball, and you succeed. You become a shadow flitting between vibrant gowns and boisterous laughter. Each event becomes a blur of swirling colors and muffled sounds. You move quietly, navigating the sea of opulence with a heavy heart, wearing a mask of indifference that hides the turmoil brewing just beneath the surface.

You linger in corners, your fingers tracing the intricate patterns of wallpaper as if seeking solace in their delicate designs. The bright chandeliers above cast their warm glow on the happy couples swirling in perfect harmony, while you remain firmly anchored in your solitude, an invisible wall erected around your heart. You watch as others twirl and laugh, and your heart aches for Seokmin’s easy companionship, the lively conversations and playful banter that now feel like a distant memory.

With each passing ball, the weight of your isolation grows heavier. Minghao’s well-intentioned apologies echo in your mind, but their impact fades against the reality of your existence. You’ve become an expert at deflecting curious gazes, practicing the art of blending in so well that the laughter and music seem to wash over you like water off a duck’s back.

But it is Seokmin’s absence that echoes loudest in your heart. He might have always been your brother’s best friend, but you had hoped he would be something more—something real. As the music swells, the realization settles heavily on your shoulders: you are utterly, irrevocably alone.

Seokmin doesn’t ask you to dance again for the rest of the season. 

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits@moondustmemories@shinwonderful@ivehypnosis@gwend0lyne @thestoryofana13 @mellowamour @blissedjoon @begentlewithme-please @xabsolutelynothingx @reiofsuns2001 @mngyulvrs @mooniewrld @archivistworld @lexyraeworld @ateez-atiny380 @walkinganxiety01 @lovecleastrange

[sleepless-crows]

the storytelling in this album i will die

[thewertsearch]

-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling gardenGnostic [GG] -- GA: Are You Feeling Any More Cooperative In This Timeframe GG: password! GA: I See No Of Course Not GA: Please GA: I Know You Were Talking To Her Shortly Before GA: What Did You Say To Her GG: I SAID PASSWORD FUCKASS!!!!!

This is a pretty clever idea, actually. Usually when you message someone on Trollian, it lives up to its name by serving up a completely random timeframe, confusing your conversations with what I'm almost convinced is deliberate malice.

Employing a password system to keep things linear is a very creative countermeasure – although it’s not exactly foolproof, since Kanaya could request future passwords from her own older self.

GA: Past You Doesnt Care About Passwords What Happened […] GG: it depends, do you want to have a silly conversation or a serious conversation?

I’m really liking this no-bullshit incarnation of Jade. It’s an attitude we haven’t seen from any of these other jokesters – and as we've recently discussed, it’s particularly striking to see it from Jade Harley, who’s been silly since day one.

GG: you have to give me that password to start our next conversation GG: this ensures that past you cant jump ahead into the conversation and mess everything up, like you are trying to do now!

Like I said, it's not fully secure, since she could get passwords from her future self, or use Trollian’s viewport to snoop on Jade’s future conversations.

Luckily, this is Kanaya we're talking about. She's sensible enough to play fair.

I love that the Iron Man suit appears to be fully functional.

This is a much more versatile flying solution than the jetpack - but it pales in comparison to the majesty of Unreal Air.

GA: Im Appreciating Our Conversations From This Timeframe More And More GA: Past You Is Much Less Of A Taskmaster Than Future You Or Pre Blackout Rose […] GG: […] what do you mean by blackout??? GA: I Guess Youll Find Out Soon GA: And Then Report It To Me Under Extremely Specific Circumstances GA: Which Is Good Because I Sure Dont Know GG: hmm @_@ […] GA: Your Eyes Are Right To Be Swirled Letters

Love Kanaya’s continued fascination with ASCII typography. It might just be my favorite running gag in the comic.

[xvxnux]

navigation : paid readings ☆ masterlist

i : "i need you to be strong now, everything that's happening today will somehow serve to bring you to me... your best version. believe in what i'm saying now: we will still have sad feelings about this, it's something that marked us and made us suffer. i need you to dedicate yourself and not give up, make plans. always have a direction! always have dreams and look for things that make you want the best for all eternity. i know things are tough and you're tired of waiting for genuinely good things. there's something difficult for us to deal with besides all of this, you know? something from our inner selves that you refuse to accept happened and refuse to expose and talk about. you're right to preserve yourself, but know that everything you put effort into doing succeeds. our secret will be safe until you want it to be, and can i tell you something? we'll never tell. know that your future will be good, comfortable. you'll have time to feel the cool breeze in your hair and have moments of peace. you may be curious about your career, right? well, listen, you'll be successful. you'll have a stable and admired mind, you can do anything! i'm sorry if i confuse you when i say "you" at some moments and "our" at others. i see us as different people now, who suffer and feel the weight of the present is you, and you will always be proud of your story. i'm in the future, waiting for you to blossom! I'm sorry i can't give you more directions about our future right now, but i'm worried about you. oh, stop apologizing! i hope you'll be alright. with love, your future self."

i see that you might be going through a tough time at the moment. the cards mostly speak about stability. perhaps you're confused about your career, and you might wonder if this reality will change, which can cause you pain.

your future self didn't want to talk about other matters; they are concerned. you'll become even more responsible for yourself and your feelings. i can see that in the future, you may face emotional challenges, and your burden is heavy, but it's alright — you'll manage well and become even more amazing!

ii : "dont worry, your cup will always be full. you will have brilliant moments ahead, so don't lose faith. there's a new version of yourself about to bloom like a black widow flower. this version will be one of the four you'll experience. no, you won't cease to be yourself, but we agree that you need to evolve, right?! in any case, be confident, your next version will teach you cunning and how to handle malicious people, unfavorable situations, and moments of pain. you'll emerge from all the rough situations, knowing how to navigate them unscathed. don't hold onto this current version of yourself; you're feeling sorry for yourself! i apologize for being tough and cold with you; perhaps it's my desperation for having lived your pain and heard your despair without being able to do much. but i believe, you are me, and i once was you! you need to understand that feeling sorry for yourself will make it difficult to leave the past behind, the same lack i felt once and that you still feel: the missing hug, the support that was lacking... the stabs in our backs and the weight on our conscience. i understand it all. when i say not to feel sorry for yourself, i mean you need to detach from this version; it no longer serves you. but if by any chance you don't understand why you feel this way, i can point out a few reasons: you lacked support and didn't receive the value you deserved. always alone, my love? always. you learned through pain to rely on yourself, you supported yourself, wiped your own tears. You embraced your inner child; yes, you are a child. but this child needs to stay, and you need to continue this journey. learn from all of this that you will still be your own support; your inner child knows how to walk and needs to walk alone, take her off your lap. your version will bring you everything you need, and it's written for you. wait to discover that you are one of the most intelligent people someone could meet. know that you will still have the power of communication; know that you will be feared and respected. feared by enemies and respected by friends! you are loving, and you need to continue to be so, you need to find balance. you want to help people in the future, and you will, but to get to me, you need to nurture the love within yourself. you will stop looking at yourself with harsh eyes and discover new spiritual abilities soon. be happy, i'm waiting for you..."

for me, it was touching and straightforward. i see that currently, you might be experiencing moments where you doubt yourself and wonder if you will reach your desired destination, but yes, you will. much depends on us and our well-being, on how our mind is doing. i see you as an intelligent person with potential, but you have been neglected and diminished in the past. there may be psychological issues that hold you back and eat away at you from the inside. fear of not finding love? nah, you will find it. even though you may not have that next version yet, i see positive aspects in you that help you get through all the difficulties you have faced. you are strong and can protect yourself from many things, but there are still challenging things. your intuition and life situations will guide you to where you belong. don't swim against the current; if you feel like doing something, just do it.

iii : "luck is on your side now, and you need to know how to be rational and think about the future, so when tough moments come knocking at your door, you don't see everything as bad and against you. the friends you have today, few will remain by your side later, and the things you value now will lose their significance. cherish the present moments and prioritize those who are prioritizing you now, okay?! i need you to wake up and be more responsible about your future, don't waste time and money! the future is bright, and you will have everything you desire, but if you still think money can buy everything... stop. i don't have much more to say for now, have a good night."

[sharklovingaquarist]

My experiences with animal sciences and how practices within them signal issues with women's health. Another long one, sorry ya'll

So someone reblogged my post about the OBGYN field saying that animals in America are treated better than women. What a coincidence that I ran into this issue today! So I was in veterinary science for four years in high school. I had a vet assistant certification and was in the FFA (Future Farmers of America). And when I tell you this inference is not too far off, I mean it. I wouldn't say they're treated better, but the general attitude towards the female body is very much more visible, they dont try to hide it with animals. You can also see connections in many practices. When I got into it, there was also a slight uncomfortable tinge when our class came to reproduction and reproductive techniques that always targeted the female body. Well, first when we looked at endocrine systems, the male was always described as existing for himself. Testosterone was for muscles and strength. But with female, her endocrine was always surrounded with sex and offspring. Estrogen was for going into heat and "being impregnated". Progesterone was to "support a fetus" not help her survive a pregnancy. This really does connect back to the female body being seen as the reproductive tool of the male body. The sole focus in fertility. We still don't even know much about the female endocrine seperate from the focus on offspring. And that goes onto practices. Vaginal speculums, inducing estrus, artificial "insemination", much more. I dont wanna say too much, but my school bred animals. Once they talked about how they induced one of the animals into an estrus by implanting a hormonal device in the cervix. Something about it rubbed me the wrong way, because they never do that to male bodies to increase sperm quality. At most they collected sperm from a male animal, but usually willingly.

So what happened today? I shop on chewy for my pets, and I saw estradiol for animals. I was confused at first and wondered why someone would need that, but I remembered how animals are induced. So I clicked hoping it wasn't the case. Nope that's the case. However when you read further you see there's actually some benefits to estradiol for some individuals. So let's analyze this.

The first thing you see in description is: "Estradiol is used to induce estrus, a state of sexual receptivity during which the female will accept the male and is capable of conceiving."

So let's address how using estrogen for this purpose is just really weird. Excess estrogen can cause a lot of health issues, most notably (to me at least) CANCER. Animals go into estrus on their own. Also let's talk about "will accept the male". So sexual selection doesn't exist anymore? That's the thing with this crowd. They see female hormones as something robotic. They think estrus makes females bend over to any male they find. And again, why is there almost never something for males to decrease chances of sperm deformity?

Ok let's go down to uses: "Estradiol can be used to enhance estrus behavior and receptivity in ovariectomized mares and aid mares with estrogen-responsive urinary incontinence."

So they're saying you use this product to increase estrus symptoms in mares who have had their ovaries removed. Why? Fuck if I know. Could be behavioral, I doubt surrogacy due to a lack of ovaries (most responsible for hormone synthesis). So Imma go to the next part. When you get to the bottom you see that it helps urinary issues. So now we are FINALLY at the part where it actually benefits a female body and not just making a female into a breeding machine. So it does have a benefit, it can help female animals with incontinence! It's just that they are valued as production rather than a living being

Finally we get to precautions: "Estradiol is contraindicated during pregnancy as it can cause fetal malformations of the genitourinary system and induce bone marrow depression in the fetus. Estradiol cypionate should not be used to treat estrogen-responsive incontinence in small animals."

So I was actually kinda surprised they explained why (AND TESTED) why a hormone/medication shouldn't be used during pregnancy! Usually, with animals, they actually admit they never tested it with pregnant animals, of which I suspect to be the same with humans. They'd rather just say "yeah uh don't take it" instead of actually paying attention to female bodies, because again you are just a vessel. Also the fact that they never test how medications effect male reproduction, thats something that carries onto humans aswell. They would never limit a man even if he causes issues to another human. Anyways, my reasoning as to why they actually knew this time comes down to them paying close attention to female hormones... but only when it comes into play with a fetus. Trust, they know ALLLLLLL about the female body- WHEN ITS ABOUT A FETUS THOUGH! And again we see the death and malformation of a fetus as a negative for the fetus and not the female. They don't mention how this situation could ALSO effect the female animal. I would assume natural abortion would take place, which is dangerous. The thing is they'll study the effects on a fetus not a living breathing female. And throughout my experience with animals, I've learned that a reproductive adult will always be more valued by nature than a fetus. The health of your parent animal dictates success the most. However you always hear about how to stay pregnant or support fetal growth, the best thing to focus on is FEMALE HEALTH. We aren't vessels. However humans seem to have that twisted. I'll get into that on another post with prenatal vitamins.

So take what you want from this and run, if you've even gotten this far. I know it was long. Im still in science, just non-mammalian. I am by no means a professional but I feel the need to put my feelings out there. To all the feminists in medical or any other biological sciences, I wish you luck. Shit is so tiring.

[madeby-meru]

Episode 11 Review (Jason & Thomas)

I actually have rather little to say about this one, overall it was an okay-ish episode and it didn’t have much in it for me (still keeping it under the cut to contain the yapping lol)

beware of spoilers!

One of th few times I saw both routes fully, i usually only go see Thomas' special scenes and illustration but I was pretty curious about this one and I am starting to like him more and more, the scene felt so shooooooorrrrt I wish they had talked more and discussed his finger licking habits 👁👁 the ilustration was very pretty too, i LOVE his expression~ I was a bit sad when we couldnt go to the planetarium :c I hope its a hint for a future episode, maybe an actual date?

Now Jason's route... I am a damn broken CD repeating myself over and over but I really and i mean REALLY dislike Ysaline. She is such a brat and so rude and judgy for no reason.

The whole "uuuuggghh i dont want to have dinner with himmmmm but i gave my woorrrddd but i dont want to be with hiiiimmmm" was so silly cause... dont go? say no? whats he gonna do sue you for hurting his feelings? why are u acting like u have a gun to your head lmao and also why are you acting like spending time alone with him is a torture? the last few times you two spend time together he was sweet and kind, he opened up to you, he helped you and clearly showed you that he DOES like you as a person!! what is there to hate at this point i dont get it, and youre also obviously horny for him get your shit together

And just dipping from his house leaving the dinner there.... I'm sorry that is extremely rude I cant deal with that. The reasoning is, again, so stupid. No, she is not betraying her company because (like Jason says) the rivalry is between him and Devon, Ysaline is not part of the equation she is not even a variable to consider. And no, she is not betraying her "friends" either because she has none! the game is very focused on the route to the point of our MC not making friends, this is not HSL where you got to constantly interact with the cast, raise their LOM, get to know them, etc. Here Ysaline is alone with her LI (and I cant take the argument of "the friendship happens behind the camera" cause thats just lazy af and leaving up to the VIEWER to fill in plot holes, for all I know she could also be addicted to cocaine and thats why she doesnt have money to pay the groceries).

Anyway, her bullshit aside, I actually loved Jason this episode! He is funny, witty, bratty in his charming way, he is so gentlemany, he cooks for her, drives her in his car (sighs like a teenager). I really like his character these past few episodes (it does bother me tho that this ep is SO bland without the special scene :/) and i hope he continues this way !!

Back to bitching- Just to quickly comment on the whole cameo thing: I am not a fan. I dont really mind them per se and I am not bubbling with rage, the cameos are well placed and they make sense and dont feel super out of pocket (amoris is a small city after all) but... I want our own characters, I want our own NPCs to interact with semi-frequently, I looooved the introduction of Devon's brothers and that cap remains my fav up to date (i want to rewatch it on Thomas' route again just to see Tasha and the boys more~). I want more characters that Ysaline can befriend and forge friendships with :c

That's pretty much all, like I said a mid chapter, not bad but not good. Pretty curious about the next one and how Jason will fit there!

[prideprejudce]

im genuinely curious since i keep seeing this opinion, but i rly dont think hotd writing was bad? nothing is perfect but idk, unless someone points to me the times they had shitty writing im having a hard time seeing it. unless i dont actually know what "writing" means here. english is not my first language, i COULD be misinterpreting things lmao. i rly liked how they did things this season, i think it made sense with the last one, this one was just Tenser because at any second the war will reallyyy break out n we dont know when cuz we have two driving forces from opposite sides not wanting that to happen, thats the entire point of s2 i think: establishing that in war there is no clear winner ("strange victory" n all that), that everyone is going to die, that there is no point to any of it theres no point to war at all, that every character is "heroic" and "villainous" in their own right in the right pov. i think it was a fun season to flesh out the characters, have us not feel entirely happy to be fighting for one side cuz theres innocents in both sides but ultimately we all know they will all die and its all for nothing. thats the tragedy of it all imo. i loved it to pieces. i guess id say im sad some characters didnt interact but also i dont see how they would considering how this season went. n also i wanted more rhaena (i do hope she'll have a cool ass role next season, idc idc)

i personally think this season was truly a transition season to full out war. people are pissed because they wanted war to instantly happen after lucerys died last season, but in reality things arent that black and white and i think it would have cheapened the plot to fast forward through the political negotiations and underhanded scheming to try and win without fighting, to just full on nuclear dragon war.

I actually like the idea that this season was like standing on a cliffs edge where one wrong move led to oblivion with millions of people dying and the practical annihilation of half of house targaryen. I'm glad that the writers took the time to emphasize how dire this war could become before barreling us into it. the political battles and moral dilemmas are just as fun to watch as the actual battles

that being said, there are still valid criticisms of the show being brought up too: like the weird pacing and absolute dragging on of daemons harrenhal ghost adventures. on one hand I get it, because in the books daemon just disappears for weeks at a time, and the writers had to do SOMETHING with him this season instead of having him peace out for 7 episodes. but I agree that the harrenhal visions became repetitive, and I'm also not a huge fan of the back to the future magic being shoved in our faces instead of more subtle clues to it

overall, it was a transition season, not the absolute best season of television history, but it's definitely not the worst (and not even CLOSE to being as bad as got s8). I think in modern age media consumption, people now equate "i personally don't like this" to "this is all horrible and the whole show is trash now"

[twopoppies]

https://www.tumblr.com/twopoppies/747389355237195776/hello-gina-i-hope-you-have-a-good-day-i-dont

You make some really good points here, especially about stepping away a bit and trying to just enjoy them as musicians. I’ve tried it with some success, but it’s not easy. I do honestly love both of their music and listen to it daily. Beyond that, it’s good to back off a bit for me.

I think for me something that has really become clear this last year, is that many fans feel entitled to what I would call Chapter 118 of the Harry/Louis WIP, and the reality is it’s just not coming. Now I love reading Larry fan fiction as much as the next person, but looking at it that way is so unfair to them. They have real lives and relationships and it’s not a story that needs to be tied up with a happily ever after. Lots of Larries - especially Twitter Larries - seem to use every interview or use of a primary color as a new chapter. I’ve never been a believer in the “mastermind” theory. And you are so right when you say the good vs evil is not really clear anymore. Yes, Syco and Cowell committed a lot of abuses, but those guys walked out of there with around $50M and tons of doors opened for them that wouldn’t have been possible without 1D , so the lines are blurred.

I think it’s pretty clear from Harry’s “corner of the internet ….it’s not real” interview to Louis latest, they don’t want our help in this - whatever “this” is anymore. It’s not underdogs vs overlords and I don’t like taking away Harry’s and Louis’s agency at this point.

It’s funny, because in 2016 if someone had said this is where you will be 8 years later I would have laughed in their face. But this is where we are and finding ways to deal with it and realizing we may never have more then we have today can be hard. Who knows what will happen in the future. Tomorrow the whole thing could blow wide open and lots of questions will get answered, but I just don’t think so and I’m ok with that. Sort of…. lol!

Anyway, thanks for the nice, calm commentary. I still enjoy reading it all!

Oh, I totally feel you on waiting for chapter 118. So many people treat their lives like an unfinished fic or a game to win. It’s super unhealthy for fans and I can’t imagine it feels good for Harry and Louis. And I very much agree that where we once were helpful, we may now be a hindrance at times. Saying that, I think it’s important to acknowledge that we’re not fucking making things up out of thin air and Harry/Louis/their teams often use Larry and larries for their benefit.

That makes it difficult to feel that they’re being completely honest when they say they don’t want a focus put on Larry.

Regardless, I’m tired of playing this game. I’d prefer to just chill in my own little circle and talk about Larry with my friends and go to concerts and have fun. But I don’t enjoy being treated like shit when it’s convenient and then sent flowers when I’m needed again, you know?

[hansleftbuttcheek]

Sold To The Mafia - Pt. 1

Mafia Straykids x Fem Reader

Warnings- squirting, rape, chocking, a bit of blood, shock collar, torture, use of pet names, nude, blow job and any other stuff you can think off in smut idk

Gente - Smut, some angst and some fluff

Summary - you were kidnapped at the age of 17 and when you had just turned 18, you were sold on a bidding for a lot of money to a famous mafia group. What happens next?

Bad grammar so don’t make fun do me 😭

Very short because it’s like 11 in the morning so-

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

“ZIP YOUR FUCKING MOUTH OR I’LL BLOW YA FUCKIN HEAD OFF!” He said as he cuffed your hands to the bed and his other men stripping your clothes off with ease leaving you nude.

~ before whatever this happened ~

You had just gotten a new job at a caffe. You had a good life, a good family, good school, good friend and etc. Until-

“Oi, baby girl, be quiet for me and so what I tell you okay?”

A random dude pulls you aside and out the caffe, ragging you into a hallway. You were knocked out quickly and thrown into a truck, no where to be seen after that. After a good hour or so you woke up in the van, tired and sore. The guys in-front of you were observing your body and one of them slapped your ass making you whine in pain.

“Your a cutie. What’s your name?”

One of the guys said as he grabbed your chin and pulled you close to his face making you flinch. You decided to spit in his face making him drop you and slam your back against the hard metal floor as you winced in the stoning feeling.

“Why you little shit!”

The guy said as he swung his arm up to punch you right across the face, knocking out a few drops of blood and tears from your face.

You then passed out

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

~ back to the future ~

So here you were, blind folded, limbs tied to the bed, stripped naked and a chick collar around your neck 24/7.

“I-I’m begging you, please do-“

BZZZZZZZ! ⚡️

You screamed in pain and your knuckles went white from the way you gripped the bed sheet tightly.

“Shut the fuck up. Now we’re gonna fuck you dumb until our boss comes back okay princess?”

Before you knew it, a thick veiny and long shaft entered your tight cunt making you squeal and shimmy at the pleasure and pain. The men smiled as he suddenly pounded into you making you jolt and moan loudly, screaming and begging too.

“S-STOP I-“

BZZZZZZ! ⚡️

“I- I CANT HANDLE I-“

BZZZZZZ! ⚡️

“…”

The men were taking turn on fucking you endlessly, pounding into you like horny animals. They never realised you had fainted due to the intense orgasm you had at the beginning. They un blind folded you and saw you weak and helpless. They were furious that you had just fainted throughout all that. However, they had a brilliant idea.

When you started to wake up, you felt your leg numb and your throat sore align with your lungs and your stomach. You heard nothing but mumbles but why started to clear.

“We should make a bet for her.”

“What? Why? She’s such a good little bitch to us all. We have our own stress toy or whatever.”

“Yeah but how about this! We can say that she’s a good little assistant and loves to be fucked and since like mostly mafia people, who also have a-lot of money, need a stress reliever, they would believe it and spend thousands on her and then we can be rich.”

“…holy shit…that’s pretty shit but also pretty cool. Sure, let’s do it.”

“I have invited all of you mafia groups for a special occasion because of this wonder slut. She is an absolute beauty! She loves being fucked and played over. Sounds like a good stress reliever for all you mafias! She is great in bed and loves being teased. So, let’s start the bidding shall we?”

“…2 thousand.”

“No! 10 thousand!”

“No! 40 thousand!”

“Fuck- a million!”

“A million sir?! Okay! Going once-“

A million won for…me? Over me. They just set me up for this just to get money didn’t they. I’m not even good in bed I dont even know how to cuddle with a man! I-

You start to realise that they just want money and your worthless. You start to tear up but before a tear rolled down your face, a man shot up and stood on the table making you lift your face up.

“100 MILLION!!!TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT!”

“100 MILLION?!?! SOLD TO MR BANGCHAN AND STRAYKIDS THEMSELVES!!!”

…who?

Pt. 2 later 🤭

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

[iouinotes]

Heroic love (part 4) | Luke Castellan

pairing: Luke Castellan x female!reader

show: Percy Jackson and the Olympians

warnings: betrayal, dark romance, no verbal consent, angst, smut MINORS DONT INTERACTE

summary: Luke finds out your plan and you give in. After all, it is better to be with him than with the monsters that suround you.

authors note: The reader joins Luke rather unwillingly, even though she still loves him. I just want to say up front that Luke's threat at the end is not meant serious. He would never do something like that to her. He only does it so that she realizes that there is no other way than to join him. If it's too dark, I'm sorry... @qwertydddddddddd wanted to be tagged, so I hope you enjoy it <33

Sometimes you think to yourself, this is real love. I'm gonna marry this person. I will spend my life with them, building a home and a family.

Well thats the regular scenario, I mean for the people who are regular. Not demigods.

And you see, even though we dont have an easy life, fighting monsters, losing friends, being scared and anxious all the time, that some bad evil guy suddenly wants to rule the world- we live. Because we have to and because we have each other.

So, for me, I was prepared for it to become harsh. I always knew my life would be like sitting on a rollercoaster, never having the chance to exit.

But I found comfort in this reality. I would imagine being on this attraction, but holding onto something that grounds me. Someone that gives me strengh, so I don't lose myself.

For a long time, I held hands with Luke.

Then of course, something did go terrible wrong, as if they goddess Aphrodite wanted to watch an exciting, action packed romance movie, with the plot twist of I-hate-to-love-you-because-you-left-me trope. Something like this.

Well, I think the movie sucks. In the last months, everything was just not right- Luke leaving camp to join Kronos? Betraying everyone and kidnapping me? Showing up here, messing with me and then holding my own dagger to my throat? (Deja vu)

No, that just isnt what I Imagined to happen in the future. I didnt want my boyfriend to turn into the bad guy, who we swore to fight.

But now I guess, thats up to me. At least some part of it.

"I think Luke ist turning into Darth Vader." Sometimes I'm not sure whats going on in Percys head.

"I never heard of this monster?" Annabeths parents are so wrong for not watching Star Wars with her.

"Guys, after we discussed this, you can have your movie night. But please, let's focus." My voice sounds harsher than I intended, so I immediately feel bad about it.

"Sorry, it's just very complicated. I want to know what our next steps are, what we are planning to do with this- situation." I don't know how else to call it.

"We need information. Who is the spy? What are Kronos plans? Where will he attack? Who joined him? So many unanwered questions." Chirons voice sends a shiver down my neck. He's right, but how do we achieve it?

Percys gaze unnerves me and when I turn my head to meet his eyes, he immediately shakes his head.

"I am not letting you alone with him this time. Nope." I sign, conflicted how I would want to deal with this.

All eyes are on me and when I turn to them, I try to explain my plan. But I cant even finish my second sentence and already everyone seems to be against it.

"We cant let him out!"

"He will kill us!"

"His army is already searching for him, he would escape!"

Annabeth raises her hand and the voices calm down. As she looks at me, I sense her own doubts about the situation.

"They are right. How do you know he would trust you? Could you convince him?"

I nod my head, ignoring my doubts.

"I can."

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

The moon shines beautifully in the sky, but it helps nothing to calm down my nerves. Im so stupid, why did I thought I could pull this off?

"Youre sure, you want to do this? You dont have to." Percy's standing next me, as always trying to comfort me.

"He will believe me. I always had dreams, where I thought he-" I need a moment to finish my sentence.

"-died. That he got hurt or is in pain. When I had this sort of dream, I would always sneak out of my cabin and came to him. I would walk into his cabin and he somehow always knew what happend. He would tuck me in his bed, letting me cry and cuddling me. Resurring me that everything is going to be okay, that he will live. That was always my biggest fear, that he would die and I would be helpless to do anything against it. He knows that."

We stand in silence for a moment.

"If you need me, I will be there. Just be careful." I smile at him.

I take a deep breath and go trough the doors, seeing that the only light he has, is a small lamp on the ceiling. I quicken my pace so he can hear me coming. When I stand in front of his cell, he is already on his feet. He looks alarmed.

"What-" his t-shirt is wrinkled and his eyes are sleepy. My breath catches and I don't even have to pretend to be confused and afraid, standing in front of him alone in the dark is enough.

The bars are the only thing that separates us.

At first I don't say anything, I just look at him with watery eyes. And just like I said, he knows it. He always knows.

"Another nightmare?" His voice is so gentle, it makes me remember the old days when everything was good. When he took me in his arms and wiped the tears from my cheeks.

I just nod, I don't think my voice is stable enough yet.

I have to play the role, I can do it. He has to believe me.

I slide down the wall and put my head in my hands, all the despair and pain I've been carrying for weeks suddenly coming out of me. I'm crying so hard that I'm almost afraid of waking up the others.

"Shit, princess- what can I do? Let me help, please." He sounds so desperate and it's only now that I realize, that I don't actually have to act. Because my tears are real.

"Y-you ruined everything! And I'm still s-so scared that something h-happens to you" I meet his gaze and see the remorse in his eyes. His heart hurts too.

"I didn't want something like that to happen- please, darling. Come here." Sniffling, I stand up. My knees feeling weak and unsteady. If I go in there now, I won't be able to defend myself properly.

“You hurt me, I shouldn’t even be here. You're an idiot, Luke. I hate-" but I can't bring myself to say it. I cant say that I hate him. Because I don't, at least not yet.

"I know, believe me. I hate myself too. Only your belief in me has always held me together." He grips the bars, I see the inner conflict within him.

"But you won't change. You've never been able to do that well." I know I'm right and he knows it too. Silence surrounds us.

"Let me hold you. Just for- a few minutes. Please. I can't stand seeing you like this. You've always been the sunshine in my life. I don't want my sun to be obscured."

The key jingles in my hand and I look at it uncertainly.

"I won't hurt you, never again, I promise. I also got an anklet. I can't escape." His eyes look so honest. I'm feeling nervous, my heart is beating way too fast.

I put the key in the lock and open the door, freezing in my movements for a moment. What am I doing here? But then I hear his voice and I know why.

“It’s not that comfortable on the floor, but you can sit on my lap." I close the door.

As I move towards him I see how thin he has become and how brown his eyes still are.

Slowly, he raises his hands and when I stand in front of him he puts them around my waist. My knees buckle and I sink carefully onto his lap. My hands rest uncertainly on his shoulders, then moving down to his neck. Playing with the strands of his hair, lost in thoughts.

His face is right in front of mine, both of our breaths are uneven. His hands linger on me, holding me tight to him. Warmth fills my chest as I look into his eyes.

"You're so beautiful. So, so beautiful." A sob tries to escape me, as I do something, I always loved. I put my head in the crook of his neck and wrap my arms around him.

He holds me for a few minutes, stroking my back and whispering soothing, sweet nothings in my ear.

Once I've calmed down, I'm basically lying on top of him and can hear his heartbeat. It's almost soporific.

"Luke?" my voice is calm.

His head turns to me. "Yes?"

"I...I want to be with you. I don't care how or- or where. I just know that I can't live without you." I see his eyebrows furrow.

"You dont mean-" I am silent. Just looking at him, sitting up a little, straddling him.

"I need you. I tried not to need you. But it's out of my control, nothing helps to ease the pain. Only you, only you matter."

Is it the truth if the words escape me so easily?

His hand finds my cheek and I lean into his touch.

"We're the only ones that matter. We will get through this, together and united. You don't have to fight my darling, you just have to be by my side." His hand around my waist pulls me towards him, the other one, he continues to lay on my cheek. Caressing the skin, drawing invisible heart-shapes.

Then his lips meet mine and my eyes flutter shut. The kiss so intoxicating, that I forget for a moment my real intention. Forget why I'm participating in this madness.

As he pulls away from me, I hear his whispering voice.

"You won't betray me, right? You won't do that to me?" He tugs on my hair, ever so slightly, to get my attention.

"No, Luke. I won't." Lie.

The key in my hand is no longer idle as I remove his shackles carefully.

"Then princess, let's get out of here." I slowly get off his lap, but before I stand up, he lifts me up in his arms.

"I promise you that I will never hurt you again. You deserve only the best." As cliche as it is, he carries me out of the cell, which isnt locked anymore.

He lets me down outside and breathes in the fresh air. It's still night, maybe 4 a.m. Everything is quiet.

His hands cup my face and place several kisses on my skin.

"You are incredible, I knew you would join me. For real this time." He takes my hand and intertwines our fingers. I don't see Percy anywhere.

"Let's go. I know where my troops are stationed. Nobody will notice that we're gone until it's too late."

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

Joining Kronos' army was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life, and that includes keeping the truth from Luke.

That I'm a spy for the camp, better hidden than anyone else ever could. No one would accuse or suspect the leader's girlfriend, because everyone can see how much I love him.

After all, it's the only reason I'm tolerated here. Because Luke would kill anyone who even came near me. He has already done it to a dragon lady who was too pushy and even when I tried to stop him, he showed no mercy.

Because he can't afford to do that, if he shows that he has a heart, it will be taken away from him.

Every day it is torture to witness this evil, to help maintain cover, to save my friends.

And every day I feel worse, because I lie to Luke. But it is the only way. I cannot help in the camp, if my heart is somewhere else. Here, with him, my thoughts are not always here, but my heart is.

At least it's enough for me to function. When Luke isn't distracting me.

When I wake up that morning on the Princess Andromeda, it is still quiet. In the presence of these monsters, I have not been able to sleep well for months. Even the dreams I have, make me wake up in the middle of the night and the only thing that calms me down is Luke's touch.

His fingers gently stroke my exposed skin, and as I turn my head and look at him, I see an emotion in his eyes, I've only recently noticed. There is a desire in his gaze, as if he wanted to consume my entire being, to have me just for himself.

My voice, my body, my thoughts, my feelings. Simply everything. He wants it all to be his.

"I wish I could erase every bad dream you have and send whoever is responsible for it to burn in hell. It should scare me that you make me think like that, but if I'm honest, it doesn't. Are you scared?" His eyes look into mine.

Slowly, my fingers intertwine with his. "Not when you're with me."

The next thing I notice is his lips on mine. The way his hands grip my hips and pull me onto him.

He leans towards me, his lips caress my ears and I hear his whispering voice. "Every day I hear one my followers talking about you. That they want to have you, to decorate your beautiful body with scars, with their initials." I freeze at his words, wanting to pull away and look at him, but he holds me tight. Makes me continue to listen to his voice.

"They want to see you bleed, to alternate between pain and pleasure when they push their cocks into you. Do you like that? That you are so desired? That you turn everyone's heads, when you go by and they start wanting to see my head roll? To get close to you, huh?" I want to shake my own head, but he holds me even tighter.

"Do you know how hard it is not to execute every single one of them? Do you know that? I would, if I could. I would kill every single one of them, in front of you, so that everyone knows that you belong to me. Do you understand? No one will speak to you anymore, because your voice is mine. No one will look at you, because your sight is mine. You keep your hands to yourself, no more help with injuries, I don't care if they die. Your hands only touch me."

As I start to sqirm, he leans back, keeping his hands on my hips until a finger strokes my cheek.

"No one will ever kiss you except me. And anyone who even thinks about fucking you, I will let die in battle. You may think my loyalty is to Kronos, but it is to you. My beautiful girl. Now think carefully about who you are pledging your loyalty to."

When his eyes look into mine, I fall silent. Then, even though I try not to, my voice trembles.

"What do you mean? I'm loyal to you, Luke."

His hands caress my skin, examining how the sun shines on me. I'm only wearing one of his T-shirts and my panties. His hands, stroke my bare thighs.

His eyebrows rise, slowly his fingers wrap around my panties, pulling them down until I am revealed to him. My heart is pounding so loudly in my chest, that it feels like it's about to give up. I hold my breath as he places the tip of his cock at my entrance.

What am I doing here?

"I think you're not being completely honest with me, princess. Let's try again. Who are you loyal to?" As he slowly enters me and his hands hold my hips, I moan. I lay my head back for a moment and enjoy the stretch, feeling his hands slide under my shirt and stroke over my stomach, to my breasts and to my neck.

"Luke, what's going on? I'm here with you, I'm-" But I can't finish my sentence as he plunges into me with a violent jerk, right up to the edge. My eyes roll back.

"These sweet lies that come from your lips. Of course you are here physically, but with the mind? Oh no, while I fuck you, your thoughts are on Camp Halfblood. On Jackson. Can you believe it?" His hands push my hips down until I am connected directly to him and can feel every inch inside me. I almost melt as one of his hands presses into my lower back and I move even closer to him.

When I try to answer him, my voice is a mixture of horror and pleasure. "Luke, that's not true. I only want you, I'm on your side- ahh-" Faster than I can react, he thrusts into me. Once, twice. So hard and ruthless that he hits the spot inside me, that makes me see stars. I can't concentrate.

"How I wish you would tell the truth. There's nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. Admit it, I already know. My girlfriend is the traitor. Behind my back, she talks to the person I hate the most and yet, she sits on my lap and rides my cock. What would Percy say about that?"

His hand wraps around my neck and holds me tight, his hips keep pounding into me and even though my brain tells me to stop, my guard is down. I want this.

"How-" But when I want to ask, he pushes me onto him again. So fast, too hard, it almost hurts, but it also feels so good.

"I have my eyes everywhere. It took me a while to figure out how to deal with it, how to deal with you. But I found a good solution. After all, Percy lets you be here, without cover, without protection. Hoping I wouldn't find out that you were passing on information. That I wouldn't hurt you."

His last sentence makes me tense up, but even though his face twists in amusement for a brief moment, he doesn't stop talking.

"Your pussy won't save you either. And since I have given you my word, I will not harm you. I found a better punishment. A choice."

He suddenly stops moving and I almost cry, wanting to move myself, but he takes my face in his hand, tightly. Focusing all attention on him.

"Either you stop your underhanded loyalty to Jackson immediately and serve me, or I will make the wishes of everyone behind this door come true and you will be used like a beautiful, little doll. From each one of them, I assure you. But after that, you won't be so beautiful anymore."

Tears well up my eyes, whether it's from the tight grip he's holding on me or from his words, I can't tell. And I'm scared, it feels like I'm being buried alive. With no prospect of ever being able to breathe or be free again.

Without me saying anything, he starts moving inside me again, letting my hips sink onto his. I breathe in loudly.

"Come on, move. Your choice. It's either my cock or anyone else's."

When I look at him, the person I once loved has disappeared. It's like looking at a stranger.

My heart feels like it's been stolen and in the back of my mind I realize, that I should have never gone with him.

But then I close my eyes, put my hands on his shoulders for support and sink down onto him. Again and again, even stronger. Until my thighs shake and tears run down my cheeks. Until I hear Luke's quiet voice again.

"If you think you are strong enough to be like me, treacherous, cold-hearted and ruthless, then I have to disappoint you. Your heart will be soft forever unless the world hardens it. I will protect you for that, princess. Forget camp halfblood, you only serve me now."

His lips are hot on my skin, a strong contrast to my heart, which feels like it's made of ice.

And when I receive the next secret sign from Annabeth a few days later, I ignore it.

[woahpinkhorsegirl]

Hi mlp tumblr and bluey tumblr! Im Pink! Im hoping to share my stuff on here and discover other stuff!

This is my sona! She's a changeling but stays in her pony form almost all the time, just her preference :)

Im gonna start posting OCs and whatnot for both fandoms soon, but i wanna put here the list of Deviantart basemakers i used from at various points, mostly early on when i forgot to credit them. Hopefully I'll make new refs eventually and they'll have proper credits.

I have a huge MLP and Bluey next gen thing to post too so either look forward to that or check it out if its out by the time you read this!

Other information about me, if you'd like to know:

I am 19 years old, white, American, and ace bi. I'm a ciswoman but I go by all pronouns, she/he/they/it and neopronouns are all acceptable, whatever you see fit or comfortable to call me!

Trans people of all kinds are welcome on my profile, alongside queer people in general! I am pr0-choice and pr0-p4lestine, I don't talk about my p0litical stances much but those are the two most important i can think to mention.

Disabled people, with both invisible and visible disabilities, are also welcome (these feel obvious but I've seen people who make it feel necessary)

Non-white people are also welcome (again, unfortunate that I feel the need to clarify that, but I use twitter so :/)

I also saw a random post about this but just in case, anyone with coping mechanisms (like age regression) are also welcome. I won't judge you for doing what you need to do.

If i look like im censoring some words by using numbers or symbols, that's a force of habit. I don't like appearing in search terms unless I actively want to, it usually invites the wrong people, so i "censor" terms that I think might draw the attention of bad apples.

Uh just some boundary stuff I guess? I love OC interaction and I also enjoy RP. I don't like giving my discord to people so any of that is gonna have to happen here. If that's inconvenient or not gonna cut it, then my apologies :(

Uh my rules for RP are a tiny bit strict but not in the way your probably thinking.

Im one of those "planning ahead" type of roleplayers who like to map out a scenario and key events before we begin and occasionally take pauses between major scenes to plot elements of the future. If you can handle that, then I'd say your golden! Im not picky with the length or detail in responses, as long as theres something to work with, I can usually move things along. The only other restriction i can think of is: when it comes to the sexualities of my characters, please respect them. Thats really it :)

I do platonic roleplays, adventure, romantic, and slice of life. I'm not much for action stuff unless its the spice thrown into the other types occasionally. I'm pretty flexible though, so we can talk about it individually if need be.

Oh, and no nsfw RP. I dont do s3x, and im not much for depicting "elicit substances" to put it lightly. Alc0hol might be the only exception, if its kept in small doses. If for some strange reason our characters end up in a s3xual scenario, we're skipping to the aftermath.

Edit: Some of my OCs have romantic interests made/owned by my boyfriend. This element can be removed for romance roleplays if need be (although they will still be with his OCs outside of the roleplay)

So yeah uhm I think thats it! Im not sure if you can edit things on Tumblr but if you can then I guess I'll update this as needed! Thanks for checking out my blog!!

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @iamburdened - thanks so much!! ♡

Daryl Dixon x she/her!reader

Something To Hold On To

Another night is spent in your half empty bed, staring out of the window, unable to sleep. Watching. Waiting. Desperate. The events that led you to this agonising repetition haunt you, ghosts of the past preventing your present from ever seeing a future, because it is unchanging now.

Denise’s death snapped something in Daryl, you knew it from the moment he got back that day, but you had never thought in a million years that anything would have the power to push him away from you. From your perspective, the death of a loved one brings you closer to the rest of the people you love, because it reminds you to cherish every moment with them, but for Daryl...it was different. You followed him all the way to the gate that day, trying to persuade him not to go out there because you knew what he could be risking. Usually, you were the one person guaranteed to get through to him, it had been that way since the farm, when the group found out where Sophia had been all that time. You were the only one that Daryl couldnt snap at, for some reason he had restraint around you. But that day at the gate, he lost it.

“The hell ya think yer doin’? You dont own me, I aint yers, who were we tryin’ to kid thinkin’ any of this was worth it?! Im better off by my damn self, ya don’ get a say in what I do, aint the boss of me. Run back to yer house, yer garden, an’ block out reality like ya usually do! Never should’a let this go on fer so long.”

Daryl was in your face, throwing his arms up in big theatrical gestures, bringing the attention of everyone who happened to be around. You stood there broken in front of him, unable to say a word; what was there to say after hearing that? With a final scoff, he got on his bike, and he was gone.

The next and last time you saw him was at the lineup. Despite everything that he’d said to break your heart, you couldnt keep your eyes off of him, seeing him in such a state and not being able to go to him was the most painful thing you’d ever experienced. After Abraham, you were staring at Daryl for strength, to keep yourself together, to prevent you from looking at what was left of your friend. Obviously, an egotistical prick like Negan didnt take kindly to you refusing to look at him.

“Well, it looks like we’ve got a couple of lovers in our midst! ‘Scuse me darlin’, would you mind paying me a little attention? I did just brutally kill this poor ginger after all, the least you could do is admire my work!” Negan’s voice was almost flirtatious, in the most sadistic way, but when you continued to refuse him, he shoved his barbed-wire-bound bat in your face and yelled. “Take a damn look!”

And you got the surprise of your life. Daryl leapt to his feet, swinging at Negan and landing a hard punch to his jaw before he was held down. You cried out, trembling feverishly, thinking that Negan was going to kill Daryl for that, but instead he took Glenn. That, you couldnt look away from. The devastation in Daryl’s eyes told you that he blamed himself for Glenn’s death, and you would have done anything to reassure him, but then he was taken.

And every night since, you have been like this. Lying awake and staring out the window at the Alexandria gate, waiting for it to magically open and reveal Daryl, safe and sound. Trying to sleep with your paranoia over what was happening to him, whether he was even still alive, was an impossible feat in itself. But that combined with trying to decode Daryl’s actions, from brutally ending your relationship because he didnt want you anymore, to risking his own life just because a very threatening man was talking to you. Of course, you know Daryl is a kind man, he loves deep and cares so much more than he lets on, it isnt out of character for him to defend you after ending things with you. But, over the years Daryl has gotten a lot more level-headed, and in a situation like that, he could usually be trusted to hold it together better than pretty much anyone else; he’s an expert at bottling things up, after all. The fact that he lashed out like that, you’d only have expected a reaction of that ferocity from him being in love with you still, which completely counterbalanced what he’d said earlier that day. If he did still love you, why would he say such horrible things? None of it made sense, all you want to do is talk to him and find out what he meant, you need to see him, and you dont know how far away that day will be, if it’s even possible.

Night’s without Daryl are difficult, but you have some things to make the days a little easier. Rick keeps a close eye on you, knowing that what Daryl said really messed you up and that regardless, being without him is hard on you. He regularly asks you to join him in completing various tasks, or even to just watch Judith because it gives you something to distract yourself from it all. It was when you were distracted that the other things came into play.

Judith is sitting in your lap, listening to you intently as you read her a story. She’s just had her morning feed and is due for a name anytime now, reading to her always helps her drift off without a fuss.

“The prince found the sleeping princess, and he leant down to give her a kiss-“

And then, you are gone.

It was late, and you had promised yourself you were going to stay awake until Daryl had returned from the run. He could be gone until tomorrow morning, you didnt care, you were stubborn enough to stick it out. Or, so you thought. As the sun rose and Daryl crept through the front door, he found you passed out on the stairs. He laughed quietly to himself, but couldnt help feeling guilty at putting you in that position by being home late. As gently as he could, Daryl lifted you up into his arms and carried you up the stairs bridal style. He carefully laid you down in the bed you shared, kicking his shoes off before crawling in beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and placing a soft kiss on your forehead, causing you to stir awake.

“You’re home!” Your sleepily slurred whispers were joyous, a welcome sound to Daryl’s own tired ears.

“Yeah I am, now get some rest, got the day off tomorrow.” Daryl mumbled.

You gasped and turned over to snuggle into his chest. “A whole day to makeout like teenagers?”

Daryl scoffed, blushing and burying his face in the pillow, making you laugh.

When you come back to yourself, Judith is asleep in your arms, and the tears you hadnt realised were rolling down your cheeks have started falling onto her little head. You’re quick to gently dry her head with the blanket around her, and then you wipe your own eyes with your hand.

Later, when Rick comes to take Judith and you’re jogging down the porch steps of the Grimes house, you happen to glance down the street. For maybe half a second, the perfect vision of Daryl standing in the distance, waving at you, stops you dead in your tracks. Tears fill your eyes, and by the time you’ve cleared them, he’s gone. Rick watches from the window as you wipe your eyes and hurry down the street in the opposite direction to your house, where you’d just told him you were going. You have to walk the long way round to avoid heading towards the place you’d just seen Daryl standing. Wherever he appears, that’s always the way.

Flashbacks and visions of him get you through the day, and as painful as they are, they make you feel something, they give you fleeting moments of joy until reality returns to you. Blocking out reality, that’s what Daryl said you did, but you’d never truly done that until now. At night, no flashbacks or visions ever came, and every night is eerily silent. Numb, empty, cold no matter how many blankets you wrap around yourself.

The one time you decided to distract yourself by leaving Alexandria to go on a supply run, Negan happened to show up, and he brought Daryl with him. Apparently, Negan asked Rick where you were, and Daryl looked up from the ground to watch Rick’s face as he answered.

“She left on a supply run this morning, she probably wont be back for a few days.” Rick said, holding Daryl’s gaze for just a moment so that Daryl knew two things: one, he was telling the truth, and two, you were alive.

“Well that is a shame, I brought Daryl here just for her!” Negan sighed dramatically, and then continued to go about his asshole business.

Ever since, you have stayed within the walls of Alexandria. You know that if you had been there that day, you would’ve lost your mind seeing Daryl, and probably gotten yourself in trouble for not being able to keep it together. But having the knowledge of it happening when you werent here, knowing it could happen again, however unlikely that may be, you have prepared yourself.

It’s been too long, you refused to count the days because with every one that passed it would feel like you were even further away from Daryl. At least now you know that Negan is keeping Daryl alive. Torturing him, yes, but keeping him alive.

When Rick asks you to come with him and a group to the Hilltop, you’re hesitant, wanting to stay at Alexandria just in case Negan comes back. You will gladly bargain your life for Daryl’s safe return home, and Rick knows that, which is exactly why he persuades you to come with him to the Hilltop. It takes a lot of persuasion, mainly bringing up the fact that one of your closest friends, Maggie, would love to see you. Rick will proudly admit to guilt-tripping you if it means he avoided you offering your life up to Negan.

The gates of the Hilltop open before you, and you’re already itching to go back to Alexandria, paranoid that Negan is back there with Daryl. The group follows Rick through the gates, and for a moment you’re occupied by your thoughts, until Rosita nudges you and gestures for you to head inside the walls. Maggie embraces Rick, and when Rick pulls away, he looks to his right and his eyes fill with tears. You follow his gaze. In a fraction of a second, your vision is blurred, and you’ve collapsed to your knees, in silent, sobbing hysterics. Maggie, Rosita and Tara are quick to huddle around you, offering you comforting words that you cant even hear. Your hands cover your face as you sob into them, you cant see or hear anything, but you can feel a pair of familiar eyes burning into you from afar.

Tara lets go of you to join Rick and Michonne in hugging him, welcoming him back.

Rick glances at everyone else, all of them having a good idea of what he’s about to say before he even opens his mouth. “Let’s head inside, they need to catchup.”

You feel the comforting arms leave you, and you lower your shaking hands from your face, wiping your eyes and slowly rising to your feet. It takes all the strength you have left to lift your head, to meet his eyes. Daryl. His name sets you on fire, goosebumps rippling all over your skin, your throat suddenly dry and heart pounding against your ribs.

He looks awkward, uncomfortable, like he’s holding back from something. You know him too well. You cross your arms over your chest and slowly walk over to him.

And despite everything, you manage to smile at him. “You’re really back?” You ask, voice somewhat hoarse from all the crying you’ve just done.

Daryl nods, not saying anything.

“I dont know what happened to you, but I am so, so sorry.” You tell him, your sincerity laced in every syllable, almost bringing yourself back to tears at the thought of what he could have gone through.

Daryl nods again.

You take a deep breath, preparing to say the words you’ve been planning. “And I want you to know that I’ve come to terms with everything, regarding us no longer being, well, us...and I get it, things change and dont always work out-“ You nod to yourself while avoiding his eyes, as though still trying to convince yourself. “-but I want you to know that I can put it all behind me, and I will.” You meet his eyes. “Because more than anything, I want to be here for you, for whatever you need.”

Daryl shakes his head, finally finding the courage to speak. “Stupidest thing I ever did.”

For a brief moment, the sound of his voice leaves you breathless, but you quickly regain control of yourself.

“What was?” You ask.

“Everythin’ I said to ya that day, I was fuckin’ stupid, an’ wrong.” Daryl admits, shaking his head again, angry at himself.

“Y-You were?” You stammer out, unable to believe what you’re hearing and in desperate need of an explanation.

Daryl stares into your eyes for a few seconds, and you can almost see him taking in the sight of you to beat himself over the head with, to relive this guilt and torture himself further.

He glances down at his shoes. “Thought I had the strength t’ push ya away, t’ try and protect you, but I realised that there aint nobody that’d try as hard as me to keep ya safe.” Daryl looks back up at you, holding your gaze, not shy about admitting his last sentiment. “I’d die fer you.”

Your eyes start filling with fresh tears of an entirely different meaning. “Daryl...”

Daryl shrugs you off, avoiding your eyes because he knows you can see right through him; you know how hard it is for him to talk about his feelings, but he’ll do it for you. “I know i’s too late, I took too damn long realisin’ what was good fer me. For all I know ya could’ve moved on already, but I wouldnt be able to live with myself if I didnt tell ya the truth.”

Then, you smile, and Daryl cant avoid looking at you any longer. The sight of your genuine smile has been his favourite memory to cling to in that cell, the one view he couldnt wait to see again, even if it was never directed at him after what he’d done. You take the single step necessary to stand toe to toe with him, and you ever so slowly lift your hands to cup his face. Daryl breathes a sigh of relief, his eyes immediately closing as he relaxes into your touch, instinctively, even after all this time.

“How could I ever move on from the man I’d die for?”

[larsonabarsona]

(spoilers for the ghostfuckers)

y`know, i think that new episode of Helluva Boss is pretty good, we have many good moments: like Blitzs breakdown in the beginning after apology tour, Blitzs and Millies talk, 1st hallucination (especially the scene in ventilation and with blitzs mother, its creepy), the development of Millie and her relationship with Blitz (and of Blitz himself of course, also some kind of Loona too, they had sweet interactions with Millie and Moxxie), i also like that finally they admitted in canon, that all around Blitz are suspecting that he will change/ let go of the situation by himself, because he always all that confident and bulletproof, but he cant take all of that forever and lead the company at the same time, everyone expecting from him too much sometimes. And that finally someone saw that Blitzs goofiness is not always just goofines, in the half of situations its his way to handle with the situation (and we know, that now all of IMP will know that. Well, except for Loona, i think she knew about that earlier already, at least that hes not that simple). Cool how Blitz gets his apologies too xd I really like all of this. But i think that episode have few problems:

Rolando. I like the idea of that character very much, but from that episode we didnt learn much about him, except for what we saw in our own eyes (that he a telepath, some kind of ghost and he can inhabit in the others. And that hes some kind of infestor demon that doesnt explain anything). Like, who is he? Why is he wastes his time on Earth in the hotel on some useless people, when hes apparently from Hell? Why is he doing all that hallucinations with people, like, is it just for fun for him (and its like no difference for him, who is seeing his hallucinations, people or demons like him)? xd. I hope that he will show up again in the future, hes just so interesting, i hope that he didnt just die like that. It wouldnt be a problem for me in that case.

I think that in that episode too much things just happen. Like, i didnt really understand, whats happening in the end xd

I didnt really understand why they split Blitzs hallucinations on the 2 parts, for me itd be more logical to see them at once but oookay (also Blitz calmed down too fast after first hallucination). And i think they....how to say it in english....didnt show much of the 2nd hallucination. Like i love the idea of it, but i felt like i didnt have enough of it and the frames are switching so fast.

And the last. Now, think about it: how much of the moments we didnt see in the trailer? How much of the moments we didnt know will happen? Uhhh beginning, when Blitz have a breakdown, its kinda unexpected that he will be in so depression (although Brendon spoilered it in some way too). Then i think the conversation of Blitz and Millie, like unexpected, that its so sweet, although it was expected that they will talk in some way. Aaaand that joke scene with running and guests? xd. The rest of the episode was expected: we knew about Blitzs hallucinations and about Blitzs mom presence in them; we knew about Rolando that he is the owner of hotel himself, that hes gonna send that hallucinations on Blitz (its just was obvious) and hes gonna possess of Blitzs mind and attack Millie. I even guessed that on that mission will be only Blitz and Millie, because we saw only them in the trailer in the frames for that episode. And thats why i fell like...unsatisfied to be honest. I havent surprised to the most of the moments. I just dont like see trailers, because they spoiler some frames from the episode in any case, but well made trailers only fuel your interest and i couldnt just ignore it for the half of the year when we had nothing but that. And I just feel happy that i absolutely have no idea about what will be in the next episode xd

[fictionfixations]

Playful Land Book 4

Spoilers for the Playful Land event, I hint a little at the ending, also vague-ish spoilers for the next main story update. also i kinda vent a little 💀

actually ace has been thrown in the air like twice and the other time deuce didnt think of a way for him to landbut leona thought of cater to catch him this time 💀

DAMN ORTHO CHILL

ernesto really calling us spoiled (which i mean is true but also hey im also magicless 😭) and also lilia's literally a war veteran, and its not on EN yet (will be next update) but some people have been such assholes to him just because he was an orphan like SIR dont get me wrong that doesnt make any better or worse i just really dont like people comparing like trauma or like privilege or something and if you do that you give me an excuse to do it back to you like hello?

like yes we are still very lucky but he acts like we cant have shit happen to us too. like i mean yes we ended up in nrc but that doesnt mean the students were any nicer (ive been reading the novel and i finished the prologue so far yippee but man to me it demonstrates more how all the students are kinda jerks) nor did we get an opportunity to learn until we literally faced a life or death situation under fear of being expelled into a world where we had absolutely nothing to our name

um. i mean theres grim? who didnt seem to have a very good life before we met him but he did also make it in but also like sir being so angry about it doesnt do anything but prove them right 💀 like holding grudges is natural and everything but being so pissed off about it for so long and leaving it to fester is only going to hinder your growth in the future ?? like okay so they didnt accept you you had a shitty life. well clearly they're blind right? forget about them and just live your life they literally dont matter

sir i used to threaten myself to do schoolwork on time because i felt like i would be judged if i did anything less?? and then i got really depressed (..i kind of was contemplating what was the point living and doing schoolwork just felt worthless. like i didnt think id live this long so i stopped seeing a reason to do it but here i still am yippee! 🎉) and shit and it didnt work as much and i got called like a disappointment ..and then i just kinda stopped caring LMFAO like ok worst fear lived now who gives a shit? not me. im the lowest of the lows i dont give a shit about your opinion. and i do this thing where if something is mentally fucking me up for so long i just. stop caring. i just cant be bothered cause its such a drain and i dont wanna feel it anymore so i just dont. like okay fuck those shitty people but arent you all the better without them?? they wouldnt have treated you any better if you were able to live up to it, it wouldve just been pressure upon pressure weighing you down and for all i know they could be the kind of person to be like a one point off on a thing means you're a failure and its like dude WHO CARES and like they wouldve blamed it on you and YOU wouldve gotten depressed like oh im such a waste of space i cant even do this right and its like. its better to just cut toxic and abusive people out of your life instead of wondering on what ifs where you leaned into what they wanted out of you and thinking they wouldve treated you better when it only wouldve made it worse

literally if they threw you out because you didnt meet their expectations or you didnt have magic then they wouldnt have cared for you if you did you wouldve been miserable

in all honesty i really dont feel sorry for ernesto. like okay youre just whining now of missed opportunities you had years ago and like oh if only i could so and so and its like DUDE get your shit together and actually do something instead of focusing on the past so much. thats not the cause of all your issues. like bruh im not the guy who decided to work for some rich geezer who could care less about you, and getting your own hands dirty for when all i know the moment it all comes out that guy could blame you because oh i didnt know these puppets were people! i could hardly tell! and like for all i know they couldve been really rough in the money department and they didnt really have a choice. but like. ……uh-huh. you sure you dont have any other option? for one i know how this event ends so x for doubt. two, kalim would literally be so happy to fund you guys like💀

LITERALLY grim LITERALLY

like dont let that you got rejected become your sole defining trait because thats dumb as fuck and you arent going to gain any pity points where life suddenly decides to be kinder to you because thats not how it works

………….what would some monster know????

SIR I BET MONSTERS ARENT EVEN TREATED AS HUMAN THE FUCK YOU MEAN ????

okay i feel awkward yapping for so long when everyones saying my point 😭

kalim i love you so much

[neutrallyobsessed]

EPISODE 1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY'RE BACK!!!!!

there in school again and Jesús hates it lol speaking of, everyone hates Joan~ lolol

AHHH THE BLEACHERS CREATURES NOTE!! Oh shit- its funnier than i expected heh, reminds me of Mikitaka honestly~~

Wait, so this guy isn't Malcom X? Then who tf is he? fr i didnt catch a word he said when he said his name..... I guess i'll be calling him Malcom X for the rest of this liveblog and when i finish ill check what his name really is lol, i really dont wanna spoil myself on this!

POINT! attention whore confucius my beloved~~, but let's see what this professor is all about...

Abe and JFK friendship! That sounds lovely and I sure don't care! But wish the best for them shippers! I'm also crossing my fingers! Teehee :3c

INTRO!! IT'S THE SAME AS BEFORE!! eh okay, kinda wanted it to change to reflect the current relationships but the only thing that should change is the parts with Joan, JFK and Abe so.... yeah its ok...

And Candide is the sole member of the board, yeah that makes sense lol, she also took vacation, haha "tanned"

GANDHI!!!!!! SXTREAM BLU!!! BEST DUDES 4EVER!!!! KNORK!!!! G-SPOT!!!!!! RAISINS!!!!!!! wait the retainers are actually Joan's...

THE EAR PIERCING!!!!!!!!!!!

they were right, they really are teasing our cocks with gandhi what the fuck

HE'S HERE!!

YEAH GIRL INTERRUPT THAT MUSICAL, NOBODY LIKES THAT SHIT HELL YEAH!!! and there are better people out there that can explain why Jackie is epic yoo

I just want more points jsksjksjksjsjsks

yeah "well funded" but............. oh cool a rocket! so it is true that theyll send them clone to space? :D

Wow Harriet being non-conformist by being conformist thats punk as hell man!

wait book burning? lmao- NOOOOO NOT THE FUCKING MAGNETS PRESENTATION AAAA BUT THE POINTSSSS NOW WE WILL NEVER KNOW HOW DO THEY WORK!!!!

oh but harriet/not malcom x apperantly? thats looking good so far ey

Hmm i still buy the theory that Exclamation! is in Nebraska

OH umm Mr B had a very smooth animation right there.....and yeah this whole scene is funny lolol glass ceiling

JFK being a jerk ass bully!!! Hell yeah!!!! :DDD

omg this is so funny cause like JUST THIS WEDNEDSDAY! JimmyHere did his ylyl vid of the week and in that vid he went to fact check about what happens if you eat a magnet! The answer being well yeah it wont kill you but ahahahha DONT DO IT MMMMM :))))

OH MOTHERFUCKER- QUE CONCHA DE SU MADRE JJAJAJJAJA me cae chistoso este profe, con que se la andara?

OYO THE TENSION! THAT YOUTUBE SOUND EFFECT!!

I LOVE IT!!!

HE'S BACK!!

I mean yeah, it makes sense that you choose a good color when you paint a wall, specially for vandalism purposes but ey look! a canon couple passed by when Joan and Topher were in close proximity to each other! that MUST mean something right?!

MOPED!! That's SO cool! they're going Downtown babey ;3 with- the massive helmet eheh WOAH THATS TIGHT ALRIGHTTT

BILL NYE THE SCIENCE LIEEEEE JSKSJSKJSKSSKSJKS ES EXCELENTE

NADA QUE VER BOLUDAAAA NDEAAAAHHHH JSKSJKJSKSJKJS

AH BUENO EYE SEX REAL issss is this something the big mouth writers put on? ahahahhahhhhhh i want a word with them-

but does your eye got a boyfriend? WELL YEAH..........

.........

... eye got a boyfriend :v

sooo y'all just spray paint a wall? hmm ok, expecting future mischief to be more lethal next time~~

Oh so she call the feds first? hehehehhe

OHIO MENTIONED! IT HURTS TO BE THIS HIP

OOOHHHH ACCUSATIONS OF AFFAIRS~~

i love intentional animation inconsistencies uwu

OH NO ITS NOT SUNDAY OR HOLIDAYS!!!!!!

funny pose, and she's default posing lol, its kinda like the t-pose of flash/vector/2D animaion ;v

and the idea of having the idiot clone killed by their own idiocy is brilliant! BUt... his moment is over! a self contained story, what will happen next~?

oh so the sachel bleeds huh..... yknow itd be a lot funnier if humans didnt bleed but inanimate objects did, a bit of absurdist humor~~

lol suspect

Yaayyy Joan is part of the group and has friends and one of them is Topher, super important :D!

Rating: an aight start ^^/10!

Topher Bus has appeared on screen for 1:23 minutes (I'm not counting recaps or the intro)

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hi cas, its talkitive mom anon. (I think thats what it was)

This ask doesnt really have that much to do with my other ask but i thought it would be helpful, so i dont have to expalin it all again.

Basically, i dont know if my parents are that bad or not. A lot of my friends tell me that my parents are bad and i always say something along the lines of "im fine, my parents are great really, dont worry about it, im not in a bad situation".

What made me send in this ask is that i had a conversation with my friend today and we were talking about our futures and how moving a lot affected our perspectives of where we want to live. She brought up that when i move back to the states she doesnt want me to 'self sabotage' by living close to my parents. It made it sound like my parents are really bad but idk if they are. I think i talk about them negatively bc im frustrated but igim frustrated at them a lot? She also asked how looking for a therapist was going (my mom wanted me to get one and i told her that i was warming up to the idea bc my mom was gonna force me anyway) i told her that i dont think its gonna happen anymore bc i think my mom decided im fine enough and that i dont need one anymore? She hasnt brought it up since we talked about it like a month and a half ago. And me and my mom have barely been able to have one conversation without arguing.

Tbh for a while now ive just felt like im a horrible child. And that im just ungrateful and i should be nicer and more positive about things. I just feel like a horrible person. I feel like i need to fix myself so that my parents like me more bc its my fault isnt it? I talked to my brother and he cant think of many times that my parents made him feel the way i do. So its either bc he never complains about my parents or bc hes just the better child. My parents have also been fighting more and it stresses me out. Im just so tired of screaming matches one second and the next my mom and dad acting like everything is normal and we all suddenly like eachother again. My mom has been telling me to stop crying a lot lately also. And i feel like she right. I overreact too much and thats probably the reason that i even think that my parents might be bad.

Anyway this has become more of a vent than a question. Sorry for ranting. Do you think im the problem though?

Hi hon! I definitely don't thin you're the problem <3

Listen, I don't know your parents but based on what you've told me, they definitely have their own issues. That doesn't make them HORRIBLE, but that means they're human and they make mistakes. I think when you're in the middle of a situation like you are, it's harder to see when people you love are making decisions that could be hurtful. If your friend is concerned, she could be right!

If it was me, I would go to a therapist. Therapists are awesome for sorting out healthy from unhealthy. Tell them about the dynamic in your family and ask them their opinion. They're professionals and they can get background that I can't. They can also help you identify where you parents have been wrong and where you may have been wrong in different situations. Plus, therapy is good for everyone.

Sending love!