#there we go now it doesn't matter lol

[tadpoles-and-daydreams]

A ramble on imposter syndrome and the accessibility of witchcraft

So, I’ve been thinking. I think a lot in case you haven’t noticed. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about the major imposter syndrome I’ve been feeling lately in regards to this blog. TL;DR is at the bottom of this post.

People have been, occasionally, sending me asks requesting my opinion on things/how I do things/what I know about XYZ topic. If you are one of these people, I promise I’m not vagueposting about you in particular- in fact, I love these questions! They’re so fun to get and they actually make me sit and think sometimes, or even encourage me to write out something that I’ve been meaning to for my book of shadows. Genuinely, they're wonderful asks to receive. These questions have made me confront something, however; my blog is still small, but some people actually like what I write and value my opinion even if just a little. 

I feel like a mimic hiding in the witchcraft community. I feel like, were people to truly understand my experiences, they would want to “expose” me for knowing so little.

So I sat down with those feelings and turned it over in my head and I’ve come to a conclusion. The fact is, I don’t do research. At least- not what I think of when people talk about research. My "research" consists of the occasional rabbit hole I go down, one and two halves of different books I never finished under my belt, what I see scrolling through various social medias, and conversations I've had with other witches. I check to make sure I'm not stepping on the toes of any closed practices- in fact, that's what most of my energy goes to when it comes to research. This isn't a complaint; I'd much rather know that my craft isn't appropriative.

But I don’t know much about mythology, even that of the deities I work with. I don't even remember the holidays and what they're for. I thought Nyx was an Egyptian deity until like four months ago because I'd just heard her name in passing as a child and had never looked into the mythology... Even though I mainly work with the pantheon she belongs to. Y’all, I’ve done like three spells that I remember. My book of shadows is a messy disaster and I love it but it's got so little information in it, because I rarely write things down. Most resources (especially mythology resources) are academically worded or difficult to read for me personally, and all of these things feel like secrets I have to guard with my life because if I were to ever say them aloud, people would know I'm a fraud.

Today I've come to the conclusion that that is, in fact, absolute bullshit.

Maybe it's not, maybe this post will make some people really upset, but in my practice it's bullshit. All of the above is a result of my ADHD and the fact that I am nothing if not a hands-on learner. My craft is mostly my own experiences because that's how my whole life is; I learn by doing. My ideal learning style is sitting with another autistic person whose special interest is whatever I'm learning about and just talking for five hours, but if that's not something I can do, puzzling it out myself is the next best thing. That's what I've been doing ever since I felt had a basic foundation for my craft. Hell, even before I had a foundation I was putting my own experiences into my craft because "Well that rule just doesn't fucking vibe with me."

This post is mostly for me, but partially for anyone who feels similar. We are not broken or doing witchcraft/paganism wrong. We are simply what happens when the kid who could never do homework ends up practicing the "religion/spirituality that comes with homework." Witchcraft and paganism, in my experience, is far from accessible when it comes to the typical image of it. UPG is what makes it accessible. So yes, my practice is heavily UPG, and I don't do as much research as I think people have assumed. But I'm going to let go of the idea that I'm a fraud, because frankly I know enough about witchcraft to have supported my practice this whole time and my deities haven't smited me yet so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TL:DR:

Fuck the rules, I don't do much research. I've researched the "basics" and what I need to so I'm not stepping on any toes of closed practices, but people seem to think I know way more than I actually do. I've felt like I was lying this whole time but frankly witchcraft just isn't accessible to someone with my flavor of auDHD, so my craft relies heavily on UPG and I've decided that I'm not broken or wrong for that and neither is anyone else. I'm tired of seeing myself as an imposter just because I make my practice doable for me.

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[thevagueambition]

It's so vile of JKR and the people she's boosting to paint Magnus Hirschfeld as some sort of race science enthusiast

The gay jew who was almost beat to death by Nazi thugs in 1920 for being loud about decriminalising homosexuality, women's sufferage, abortion rights, socialism, the horrors of war, suicide prevention for queer people, etc

Who only survived the burning of his pioneering Sexuality Institute because he was abroad and who died in France because he could not return to a homeland that did not acknowledge him as a German

You want to say he's the ~real Nazi~ for holding beliefs that were mainstream science at the time he held them?

Yes, Hirschfeld was a eugenicist, insofar as most doctors were prior to the Holocaust

Yes, he argued that gay people having kids would lead to sickly kids -- as an argument for why society should stop forcing gay people into heterosexual marriages

Hirschfeld was by no means perfect, but smearing the legacy of someone who was specifically, by name, targeted by the Nazis for being a jew, for being gay and yes, for pioneering gender affirming care, as if he was fucking Mengele

That is just fucking evil

(but the people who criticise her are antisemitic homophobes, right?)

[running-in-the-dark]

kinda disappointed with how this weekend went. I mean, it wasn't bad! but it was our first weekend in the new apartment, and I/we wanted to get a lot done. I already did a lot during the week (a lot for me, not a lot for most people I guess), but there's lots of things that I can't do/can't do on my own, either because I'm too short or not strong enough or I need someone else to hold something or whatever. which realistically just won't get done during the week because my husband works full time, so. it sort of sucks that only one very small, unimportant thing got done. 😔

[arcadequeerz]

I just do not give a single shit about lg-bt-q disc-ourse anymore.

[bobzora]

there are some bits of what they did with the rooftop scene that i like and others where i was like :/ this isn't as good as it could be. and this is an important scene lmao

[hypermascbishounen]

The thing about a lot of the purity culture stuff is how it's also propped up by the anti-intelectualism. Which is how you get people earnestly Charlie-day-cork-board style arguing why anything they don't like has incest subtext, while insulting anyone who actually cares about analyzing real incest subtext.

It's also hard to do any serious analysis of the state of queer works, when the well has been so thoroughly poisoned between prople policing who gets to write/enjoy it, vs writers who see regular engagement with the premise of their writing as a threat.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

another specific scenario nice & simple like winston "isn't allowed to have a 'correct' cishet(tm) gender n sexuality anyways" "keeps immediately latching on to the nonbinariest people around him" billions goes yolo mode after going [just endlessly weather it at the sunk cost factory] firmly established itself as a shitshow and decides like i'm gonna hook up with a guy fr (has not already happened, in this specific scenario) and then does so, congrats to him. however, with all the precedent in the world, it's like here's your big anxiety about any autodidactic sex ed beforehand. here's your big anxiety about just general surveillance & malicious handling of it afterwards. no way anyone could have completely founded hangups about everything even further just indefinitely now. bonus points though he still goes to math meetup has real math friends over there who have Really provided the [yeah it's not actually a popularity contest here] arena & he's known them for years & let's say has at least One amicable person who talks with him out of it, maybe even two. congrats to him canonly for getting out of there, sure hurt him as much as they possibly could on his way out though, was legitimately the goal

[zafiro-anyejo]

So my work schedule is from 7 AM-3:30 PM. I was so stressed about waking up on time and it's like... actually been really good? I'm surprised how well I'm adapting. Only had this schedule for a week and I'm already automatically waking up before my alarm (around 5:30 AM). Hope I can keep this momentum going for the next few months.

And a bonus when I get home around 4 it's like... I have 4-5 hours to do things before bed?? insane. and I get to LIVE like this?? T_T

[i-am-agent-washingtub]

My most handsome boy 😛

[vicagentstan]

hey people here's the ultimate boop guide!! (in case ur confused)

to boop people, just go to either the home/explore page and scroll until you find someone with a boop button next to their name like this ↓

just click that and u booped someone!!

(some people opted out so not everyone has that option)

(also, it doesn't matter if the person is following you, your moot, etc,, u can just boop a random stranger!)

you can also boop yourself by going to your own blog and click the boop button on top of a post that you made/reblogged !

(also gives you this pop-up lol)

you can also view someone's blog and then boop them with this button !

last but not least we have the super boop !!

find any boop button, hover over it for a few seconds, then it should do a spinning animation; then click it and if it gives u this pop-up that means it worked :3

update: ok i dont think super booping works on mobile :(

WAIT GUYS YOU CAN EVIL BOOP SOMEONE

hover over the boop button and wait for it to do the spinning animation at least 3 times, then click it and it should give u this pop-up

im gonna try super booping everyone who interacts with this lol

ok im also gonna attempt to super boop your other accounts too

I CANT KEEP UP HELPP 😭 (also its almost midnight for me now..)

woke up with 7k notes and its still going 😭 not attempting to boop every single person anymore lol.. 💔

muting notifs on this post since its over

[sketchtastrophee]

old art again!! this time a rough animation of sawyer and yarnaby 😎 (looks better if u click to view 😭)

im working on a short ppt animation rn. im thinking i should post it to my youtube channel, though im not sure if people here would see it. i think i can link videos on here?? idk

okay I'm gonna talk abt more chapter 4 stuff.. this time about prototype's previous identity.. ch4 spoilers and also a theory below..

hiding the solo yarnaby under here LOL

people theorized 1006 was elliot, which was recently disproven in the chapter 4 tape where poppy refers to elliot as her dad and wishes he were there. in the same tape she addresses prototype as a completely different person. also recall that elliot died in the 90s, meanwhile prototype met theo in 1989. so yeah, they aren't the same person

I've also seen people say rich is prototype, which cannot be true either. in a ch4 tape he speaks to one of the employees under his supervision. the kid mentions his coworkers joking about him going missing. before the bbi, it would not make sense for this to be a common rumor at the company, which means this tape had to happen after harley was hired in 1990; at a time when the company would have a reason to silence people

prototype existed in 1989 at the minimum, but considering he says "it's always been about you and me" to poppy, he's likely the prototype of HER. she's elliots daughter, she died in the 60s, meaning prototype was probably created around that time as well.

this means that rich can't be the prototype because he was human long after prototype was made

if you want my take on who prototype truly is, i'd say his identity doesn't necessarily matter. i don't mean to say his origins aren't important, just that his name and specific role in the past probably doesn't mean anything in the long run. i've never believed he was elliot or rich, and maybe in the future i'll be proven wrong but for now i'll tell you the theory i've had since june of last year

elliot's daughter dies in the 60s. he divorced his wife in 1930, so his daughter is probably in her 30s when she dies. she gets sick or injured, maybe she's actively dying or already dead by the time elliot begins his research. he looks for ways to bring her back, but it doesn't work on the rats (as he mentioned a note in the 2nd chapter)

so what does he do? he tries it on something bigger as he said he would: a human. of course he's not going to try this experimental method on his own daughter, even if she's already dead, so he finds someone else to use it on. we know that elliot wasn't evil or anything, so it's unlikely he killed anybody to use for the experiment. considering the orphanage isn't open yet (it opened in the 70s, not the 60s), prototype probably wasn't an orphan child either. if i run with my simple version of the theory, elliot may have dug up a body in a graveyard and used that. maybe a fresh one, who knows. he tried it, it worked, then he revived his daughter with the same method.

this is likely what harley wanted to know about in the chapter 3 tape (the "i learn something new about you every day" one), and also what prototype is asking harley to figure out in the ch4 tape they're both in. in that case, sawyer never actually figured out how to revive people with the poppy substance. sure, he can transfer people into the toys, but he can't bring anybody back to life

more reason to believe prototype and poppy are of the same "batch" is because it seems they are the only two who don't need food. it's outright stated about him in the ch1 trailer, and insinuated with her saying the "toys will starve otherwise" when she's talking about how nasty them eating humans is. she refers to them, not herself. her and prototype are probably the only 2 who were ever brought back from the dead, which circles back around to his monologue and gives meaning to the "it's always been about you and me, poppy. what we are". when i heard him say that i felt like my theory was lowk confirmed 😭😭

no guarantee this is right, but it's been my guess for a long time

[heartswithinreach]

your post about sylus essentially conditioning the reader to sit on his lap hasjsakddf that was so perfect and in character 😭 i love it sm its given me so much brain rot - how bout this:

can i request the lads boys reaction to the reader randomly asking to be carried/picked up in the middle of walking? for no other reason just to see how'd they react lol

LaDS casually carrying MC

Xavier

The most casual. He just smiles at you and asks, "Bridal or piggyback?" in the same tone as if he's asking what you want to eat.

And he's not just playing along. He means it. He wants to be the one you lean on — metaphorically and literally.

You can try and backtrack but then you'll get those eyes. The bluest puppy dog eyes that can break the strongest of wills. "Are you sure? We still have a few blocks to go to the café, I don’t want you to get tired..."

You feel like you're holding out on him by not letting him carry you. The mind tricks this man is capable of to get what he wants are ridiculous.

You fold embarrassingly fast and Xavier is happy as can be with you on his back, your arms and legs around him like a full-body embrace. He can see the tactical advantage to carrying you like this during missions, too.

Rafayel

"You want me to carry you?“ Rafayel scoffs. “What if I pulled a muscle in my arm and couldn't draw for a week? No thank you!"

He refuses until you ask if it's not that he doesn't want to carry you, but that he can't.

Now you've wounded his pride. He might not be the God of the Sea anymore, but he can't let this go unanswered! Rafayel will be on you relentlessly to let him pick you up, no matter how long it takes.

"Whoa, be careful, cutie! There's no telling how deep these puddles are from all the rain — you're super lucky your boyfriend is here to carry you to safety."

When you finally break and let him do it just so he can prove a point, he realizes he likes this way more than he thought he would. You're like his adorable little prisoner and the only way you're getting out is in praise and smooches. This will become a regular thing, I fear.

Zayne

“I told you to wear more comfortable shoes.”

Zayne inwardly grins at how quickly you deflate at his blunt response. It's adorable.

But Zayne has a hard time denying you something so innocent as wanting to be close to him. So he guides your arm to wrap around his shoulders and picks you up with a strength that always takes you by surprise.

He waits for you to settle comfortably in his arms before he starts walking. He's aware of the disapproving stares from the people around you and not too long ago, he would've been one of them. How quickly his perspective has changed because of you.

Zayne is brought out of his thoughts when he feels you peck his cheek and now you get that oh so familiar look of gentle reproach from him. "I am working on being more affectionate but I'm not there yet, MC. Now, behave or your ride will end early."

Sylus

Sylus is so caught off guard that, for once, you can see his entire thought process play out through his expressions.

Surprise at your request, suspicion you're just toying with him, the realization you're being somewhat serious, and then the most gratified look you've ever seen on his stupid smug face.

Now you’re speaking his language. So delighted you’re finally catching on, he just picks you up and continues on his way without breaking his stride.

However, you didn't specify how he should carry you. So you're draped over Sylus's shoulder and to keep you there, his hand is dangerously high up on your thigh for being in public. The smack on your ass is so inevitable, you can feel it like it's already happened.

"You just said you were tired, now you want me to put you down? You need to learn to make up your mind, kitten. I'll just carry you until you're sure of what you want."

[qqueenofhades]

I think its genuinely fascinating how Biden has somehow become the bad vibes sin eater for the party. I'm seeing people who were doing the whole "voting doesn't matter both old men are the same" pivot hard into voting as harm reduction. The anti voting rhetoric has COMPLETELY lost The Youths on tiktok. People suddenly remember the good things the Biden administration has done but don't associate Harris with any of the things they didn't like. In my swing state volunteers are signing up in droves. People feel ENERGIZED, the vibe shift pre and post Biden dropping from the race has just been insane

Y'know, that is a... good way of putting it. It's also why I'm quite sure that Biden has probably been planning it for a while. I don't think he was intending to step down, and didn't want to be forced out at the drop of a hat, but after he realized that the circus was never going to stop until he did, he did the honorable fall-on-his-own-sword thing and definitely, DEFINITELY spent some time choreographing this behind the scenes. Because while the roll-out has been very smooth, it could just as easily (as many of us were expecting) have been a total disaster, and that doesn't happen without SOME planning. It's also entirely possible that the campaign staff flipped from Biden to Harris are superhuman, to come up with a massive online roll-out, new branding, new signs (they had plenty of 'em in Wisconsin yesterday), new everything, but I'm guessing it's a combination of both. Biden has spent his entire political career being underestimated, and after we literally made a meme out of Dark Brandon juking the Republicans out of their shoes, we should definitely give credit where credit is due in how masterfully he pulled it off.

Because we have had eight years defined by the central question of Whether The President Is a God King Who Should Serve For Life (the MAGAts obviously think yes), the sheer idea of a president willingly giving up his power BEFORE he had to is also novel and admirable. It's sad that this is the case, but so be it. The Republicans also got a heaping helping of Be Careful What You Wish For that was undoubtedly brilliant; they've been yelling for years that Biden is old and frail and can't serve and should step down. Biden went "lol okay" and gave it to them, and now they're fucked.

Aside from that, on the most basic level, it's far, far easier to see the actual difference in the parties with Harris as the nominee, just because it shows that one party is willing to make progress and reflect the new demographic reality and social mores of America, and the other one is not. Now to be clear, Biden deserves an incredible amount of credit for coming out of retirement (he was ALREADY 77 years old when he became president and had had decades of a long and respected career in public service behind him) to fight, beat Trump, and deliver an incredibly successful presidency. He held the line against authoritarianism at home and abroad, he rescued the trashed American economy and managed a world-leading recovery from Covid, he stood up for democracy, he spent four years filling the benches with liberal judges to reverse even some of the Trump/McConnell hack job, he finally passed comprehensive infrastructure investment and the Green New Deal under the name of the Inflation Reduction Act -- and so on. Many of these priorities had been languishing for decades or were completely trashed under Trump, and he could not have done so much in just 4 years without all that age, skill, and experience. Hence why all the Ageism!!! was (aside from being a Republican/media smear job) dumb. He's able to do the job because he has had decades to study. Turns out that makes you actually pretty damn good at it.

Yes, Biden could not do as much as he wanted or originally planned, had to deal with MAGA Republicans and Joe Manchin/Kyrsten Sinema sabotaging him the whole time (lololol Manchin, possible possessor of the World's Biggest Ego and with Trump around that's saying something, popping out of obscurity to self-righteously announce he would not be willing to be Kamala's VP. YEAH ASSHOLE. LITERALLY NOBODY ASKED YOU. NOBODY WHATSOEVER. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS AT LEAST WE WILL SOON NO LONGER HAVE MANCHIN IN THE SENATE). And yes, Biden made some serious mistakes of his own, because he IS from an older generation and a different style of doing politics/different beliefs that no longer resonate with the younger segments of the electorate. But this old white Catholic guy at the age of almost 80 still managed to be the most progressive president ever, coming in at a moment of incredible domestic and international crisis and getting us safely to the other side, and all cynicism, criticizing, and caveating aside, he deserves an incredible amount of credit for that. I mean that absolutely, and I am very grateful.

As I said, willingly relinquishing that power takes guts, and when Biden saw the writing on the wall that he had to sacrifice himself, he took his time, he didn't jump too early, and he didn't jump too late. On the most basic level, it becomes a hell of a lot easier to make the "both parties are not the same" argument when one is running a (comparatively) young brown woman and the other is still running their loathed felonious old demented orange traitor. Most Americans are not plugged into policy minutiae and details. They look at Biden-Trump, they see two old white guys. When you take one of those old white guys away (who goes in a self-sacrificially heroic manner and in sharp contrast with the coup-happy fascist) and put Kamala Harris in there instead, it generates an obvious jolt. People can see for themselves that there is a real difference that doesn't rely on closely reading news and tracking complex policy, because as noted, most Americans simply don't. The brown first-generation American daughter of brown immigrants is a quantifiably different story from "old white guy career politician," which for better or worse is how Biden was seen, especially the old part. We needed that establishment expertise to beat Trump in 2020; I still think Biden is the only one who could have done it, and as noted, we owe him a great debt for doing so.

However.... 2024 is not 2020, and it is not 2016. There has been this HUGE and unbelievable swing to Kamala because she represents the antithesis of what the last eight years of Trump-induced anger, fear, panic, chaos, and hatred has stirred up. That's why people are so ready to rally around her, just as they were (I daresay) around Obama in 2008, after the exhaustion, chaos, war, and mounting economic misery of Bush. Trump has been out of office for the last four years, but his shadow over the American political landscape has been omnipresent. Now people know that we finally have a real chance at getting rid of him forever, and just as Biden was uniquely positioned to capitalize on that in 2020, so Harris is now. Which is why, however tough it will be, she has a real shot at winning. I can guarantee the Republicans know that, and are shit scared. Because the Black Lady Army of Democracy has indeed arrived in force to Get This Shit Done and I don't know about you, but I found that incalculably comforting:

Yikes! All lined up for Kamala pic.twitter.com/Dt4OCDp7WX

— Alex Cole (@acnewsitics) July 24, 2024

This, at the most basic level, is what scares fascists the most, it's exactly what we need now, and what Harris is uniquely positioned to mobilize, along with her gangbusters appeal to young voters:

This is the energy we need. This is what Biden saw and planned for and which he launched us into, and where all that experience and age paid off. This is why people, even people otherwise disengaged, disillusioned, or checked out of the tedious and mind-numbering drudgery and depression of American politics, are responding to it. Because it's easy to understand, it offers hope, and it tells a very simple story that is nonetheless long overdue:

Thanks so much, Joe. Go absolutely waste that orange fucker, Kamala. We got your back.

[aeristudios]

Toxic

ᯓ★𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It doesn't matter who Seungcheol is with: He will always be yours.

ᯓ★𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ex boyfriend!Seungcheol x reader

ᯓ★𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: pwp, exes to fwb, 18+

ᯓ★𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drinking, cursing (the least of your worries tbh lol), cheating, outside sex/exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), clit stimulation, dirty talk, pet names, cream pie (im not gonna hold you, one position idk what to call it lol), they are both toxic I'm ngl

ᯓ★𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.1K

ᯓ★𝐀𝐍: Idk man. Cheol really got it going on. Thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for looking at this for me at the last minute. This is probably the first time I have been inspired to write something and finish it in a day lol.

"😏"

You knew this was a bad idea. You had no business texting Seungcheol in the middle of Seungkwan’s party that you were both at, especially while he was sitting next to his girlfriend. Unfortunately for you, he looked good as hell, wearing those gold-rimmed glasses that you liked and his usual black shirt and grey sweats combo. You were nothing short of turned on and didn’t mind being the toxic ex for the night.

 Fuck it, we ball, right? 

You smirked as you pressed send, sipping your lemonade and white tequila. The bravado flowed through your body as you looked across the room, waiting to see his reaction as he slid his screen up. His girlfriend, some cherry-picking girl he met while visiting his parents, looked away at the perfect time as he read your text, biting the bottom of his lip. His eyes searched the room until he saw you, a gleam of mischief in his eyes as he mouthed one word to you: Really?

You shrugged, feeling confident that you got his attention, and turned your attention to your best friend Seungkwan, who told a story that you were zoning in and out. This isn’t your first song and dance with Seungcheol. He’s the ex that you can’t stand to be around but can’t stop yourself from being underneath, either. He’s intoxicating, addictive, and, to be frank, the best sex of your life. You two can only stop fighting when he is either fucking you into the mattress or if you’re sitting on his face. Call it toxic, sure, but you love every second of it. 

“What are you drinking there?” Vernon grabbed a stool and sat next to you, a red cup in hand. 

“Just my usual pink lemonade and Patron,” you raised your cup.”You want me to make you what I got?”

“Yeah, sure.” 

You slid off your stool, your skirt accidentally rising up your legs as you walked to the other side of the table, mixing your usual concoction with a side of lemon. You gazed at Seungcheol again, who was entertaining whatever conversation his girlfriend was having as she sat on his lap. Jealousy consumed you as you watched his hands caress her legs, his chin resting perfectly on her shoulder as if he were the boyfriend of the year. You may not want to be with Suengcheol, but that doesn’t mean you want him with anyone else, either. He’s yours until you say otherwise. Possessive, you know, but you don’t care. 

“Here, Vern,” you handed him his drink. “I made my best one just for you.” 

“Aw, you shouldn’t have,” he replied. “You don’t have a crush on me now, do you?”

You cock an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “You wish.” 

“Uh-huh.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, took another sip of your drink, and scoped out the scene in the kitchen. Seungkwan, Soonyoung, and Seokmin decided it was time for drunk karaoke as they belted their hearts out to some songs playing on the stereo. Cheers and wallops filled the kitchen, and you even sang with them for a bit, temporarily taking your mind off Seungcheol as you enjoyed the good vibes. Your voice cracked and croaked, but you didn’t care; you wanted to have a good time.

Over an hour later, your throat was dry and tired, and you bowed playfully as you stepped outside with bottled water, needing some fresh air. Sitting on one of the swing chairs, you pulled your buzzing phone out of your pocket, reading three messages from Seungcheol: 

“Wya?”

“?”

“???”

You snickered and typed a response, about to press send, when the crunch of leaves followed by a person's figure came from behind you, his wooden cologne greeting you before he did. 

“Seungcheol,” you remarked, crossing your legs. 

“You don’t know how to answer your phone now?” He was slightly irritated. 

“I’m afraid I don’t,” you reply sarcastically, leaning back against the seat. “I’m surprised you’re still here.” 

“Why?”

“I thought you would’ve left with Little Bo Peep over there.” 

“You’re a brat.”

You shrugged. “I know.”

You earned a chuckle from him, and you joined in, patting down the seat for him to sit next to you. The air shifted between you two, going from light to heavy with sexual tension. The thought of the last time you were together, when he had you bent over his counter, his fingernails digging in your hips as he fucked you from behind, brought desire into your heart and jolts of excitement in between your legs. Looking around, you notice the only light that can be seen is from the full moon, and it’s hidden behind tall oak trees that give you enough privacy… enough to…

“So, about that text,” he said, getting straight to the point. “That was very bold of you.”

“Well, yes,” you replied, smirking as you looked at him. “I want what I want.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. “Did you want her to see it?”

You turned to him slightly, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he said bluntly. “Did you want her to see the text?”

You keep a good poker face, but you are annoyed. Seungcheol can read you well, and when you shifted your seat, his gaze became too intense to handle. "And what if I did?"

“Hmm,” his voice trailed off. “I never thought I’d see the day where you’d get jealous.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, your eyes flashing with anger. “The fuck do I have to be jealous of?”

Your irritation knew no bounds, and you knew you had to get away. You would never admit that envy burned at you when you saw Seugncheol and his little lamb of a girlfriend together. She was starting to integrate into your friend circle, and you hated it. It reminded you of the main point of why you kept breaking up after you soon got back together: he refused to commit to you, but he had no problem with doing it with someone else. 

You suddenly got up and dusted off your legs, leaving your water on the seat and making your way back to the house. “Have a good night, Cheol,” you called out. 

You were halfway to the door when heavy footsteps were heard from behind you, followed by a pull of your arm as you were dragged behind a tree. Seungcheol’s hands grabbed your face as he placed a desperate kiss on your lips, making your knees buckle.

“You are so annoying,” you mutter, tugging at his hair. 

“You love me,” he whispered against your lips. 

“Whatever.” 

His tongue invaded your mouth as his hands hiked up your skirt and pulled your panties to the side. His index finger found your clit and rubbed it softly, a sweet moan escaping your lips. He smirked against your skin as he started sucking on your neck, nipping at you softly as he trailed to your collarbone. 

“God, you smell so good,” he spoke as if under a spell. “You’re perfect. I couldn’t leave you alone if I tried.” 

Not giving you any time to respond, he suddenly dropped down, his face facing your core as he pulled off your panties and shoved them in his pocket. Hiking your leg up, his tongue swiped at your core, earning a long, guttural moan from you as you braced yourself on the tree. You felt filthy and so alive, listening to him feast happily on your pussy while you babbled incoherently, tension building as you softly rode his face.

“Feels good,”  you mumbled, pulling his hair tighter. 

“I know, baby,” he breathed against your thigh. 

“W-we don’t have a lot of time,” you barely breathed out. “Somebody will come looking for us.” 

“What if I said I didn’t care?”

The thought of being caught should’ve scared you and made you feel ashamed, but instead, it set you ablaze. Fire and desire were all you could see, and you wanted him even more. “Show me how much you don’t care, then.” 

Seungcheol left one lasting kiss on your nub before shoving down his sweats, revealing his thick cock already dripping with precum. You watched him rub it on his shaft, your mouth salivating as you watched him lubricate himself, tiny veins popping out on his length. You’ve never told him this, but you’ve always thought he had the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. It’s clean and thick, and you love the way it fits in your mouth. 

Seungcheol kissed you again, lifting up your leg as he lined up to your entrance, entering you slowly. 

You threw him a puzzled look. “You don’t want me to—”

“N-No,” he sputtered as he filled you up. “You might have had a point about there not being enough time.”

You laughed softly as he pulled out and, without warning, snapped into you, grabbing the back of your neck. His eyes penetrated yours as he fucked you deeply, your walls clenching around him as he hit every spot. He looked desperate and in love, his low groans spilling out of that beautiful mouth of his.  

“Fuck,” you cried out. 

“Shhh,” his lips pressed against yours. “They’ll hear us.” 

“I don’t care.” 

You felt tingling in your core, a dam ready to break as he continued to fuck you hard against the tree, whispering nasty things in your ear. You begged for more, goading him to fuck you harder until he sent your body falling over a cliff into a pile of ecstasy. You felt hazy, riding out a high as Seungcheol fucked you through your orgasm, his pace sloppy as he reached his peak. 

“It’s okay,” you nodded. “Cum inside of me.” 

You were already on birth control, and you didn’t mind being filled with a load. It was a pleasure to see his eyes roll back as he emptied himself inside of you, his warm breath against your skin as he slowly came down from cloud nine. He stilled until he was completely empty, kissing your forehead while he pulled out of you slowly, a long, sticky, messy following after. 

“That was…”

“I know.” 

You adjusted your skirt, the adrenaline wearing off, and now feeling the implant of tree bark on your butt. You did your best to make yourself look normal sans the missing panties. 

“I need my panties,” you reached out your hand. 

“Do you?” Seungcheol asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Yes..?” You stated the obvious. “I would like to prevent as much cum as I can from running down my leg.” 

“Hmm, maybe I would like to see that.” 

You pinched his shoulder and grabbed your panties from his left pocket, shoving them on and flattening your skirt one last time. You looked at the back door, the party still in full swing as everyone had moved into the living room. “I’ll go first, and you can come in a few minutes, okay?” 

He nodded, and you walked back to the house, slipping in quietly from the backdoor. You poured yourself another drink, swirling it slowly before drinking it, taking it all in. True to his word, Seungcheol comes in a few moments later from the front door, sneaking into the bathroom for a few minutes and then coming out to greet his girlfriend. She looked at him puppy-eyed and in love, and all you could do was laugh. If only she knew. 

“Hey, there you are!” Seungkwan exclaimed as he waltzed into the kitchen with a bowl of chips. “You disappeared on us.” 

“Sorry, I needed a bit of air.” 

“Ah, it’s okay, friend,” he twirled around, almost running into the refrigerator. “Are you staying in the spare room again?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded. “I brought a change of clothes.” 

You attempted to take another sip of your lemonade before realizing it was all gone. Moving to grab another bottle, Seungkwan suddenly moved closer to you, inspecting your neck.

“What is that?” He asked loudly. “Is that a h—”

“Shhh!” you pinched him. “Do you want to announce it to the whole party?”

“Wait,” he lowered his voice. “You and Cheol were gone for a long time. Oh, please don’t tell me you’re at it again.” 

“Fine,” you shrugged. “I won’t tell you.” 

“While his girlfriend is here?!” Seungkwan gasped. “You are so bad… Tell me everything later.” 

You nodded as he returned to the living room, and you were left alone to make your last drink before joining everyone. The party went on for another hour before people started leaving, Vernon and Seungcheol were among the last people to leave. You hugged Vernon by and attempted to nod curtly at Seungcheol before he pulled you into a hug. 

“I’ll text you,” he whispered in your ear.

“Okay.” 

Maybe you don’t hate him… you might even love him still. But one thing you know for sure: this is far from over. 

[favefandomimagines]

loml (r.c)

SEASON 4 PART 2 SPOILERS!!!!

Request: @motherlanaenthusiast “So what if we do a Rafe x Maybank!reader where like maybe she was in morocco but she wasn’t with JJ when he died cuz she was doing smthn else so like they all have to break the news and that happens and then when like after when they’re back at Kildare Rafe like gets deja vu from s1&2 him because he sees reader going kinda crazy”

Summary: Rafe is the only person to save Y/N from a downward spiral.

AN: I will NEVER forgive the writers for this lol I went on a tangent with this one

The sun was blistering and casting a golden hue over the winding alleyways in Morocco. Rafe Cameron and Y/N Maybank moved through the maze of alleyways, their steps quick and purposeful, yet filled with a tension that spoke of something much deeper than their immediate surroundings.

Y/N was JJ Maybank’s twin sister, a spitfire with a wild heart who had once been the center of Rafe’s secret world. The two had shared a tumultuous fling, a secret affair that had started four years ago under the cover of darkness and ended just as abruptly. It was a relationship neither had ever fully acknowledged. Rafe was a Kook, while Y/N, like her brother JJ, was a Pogue, tale as old as time.

The shop was quiet, the group off to Charleston to follow the next clue. Y/N stayed behind to wait for her brother after he had wandered off “running errands.” The bell above the door jingled, and the soft sound broke through the silence.

Y/N was leaning against the counter, staring at her phone screen, scrolling through all the unread text messages to her brother.

"How can I help you?" she asked absently, not looking up from her phone.

She looked up and her breath got caught in her throat, the smile on Rafe Cameron's face grating against the air. He stood at the entrance, hands tucked casually in his pockets, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, keeping her tone even, though the familiar tension in her chest began to build. She’d never been able to shake the feeling of unease around him. Not since everything went down with Pope, the fight that ended whatever it was they had.

"Can't I just stop by and visit my local surf and bait shop?" Rafe said, taking a step inside, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You looking for Sarah?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, yeah. I'm looking for Sarah."

She shook her head, setting the phone down with a soft click. "She doesn’t want to talk to you."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, the smirk still in place. "I think I can have a chat with my sister whenever I want."

"Not if she doesn't want to talk to you." Her words were firm, but there was a slight quiver in her voice that betrayed her more complicated feelings.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter as he took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between them. He placed his elbows on the counter, leaning in closer, the sudden proximity catching her off guard.

"I'm sorry about the drama at the beach the other day," he said, his voice lowering in an almost sincere tone. "With Ruthie and the turtles."

She didn’t respond right away, trying to keep her emotions in check. She could feel the weight of his words, but it didn’t change anything. Rafe was sorry—sorry for the mess he had created, maybe, but never for the things that had truly mattered.

"Don’t act like you care, Rafe," she replied, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "You only care about how things affect you. And I guess now Sofia."

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze growing intense. The years of tension between them seemed to hang in the air, unresolved and unspoken. Then he said, his tone soft but firm, "We used to be so close, Y/N. What happened?"

She sucked in a breath, trying to push down the anger, the hurt, the past. "The drugs happened," she said slowly, her voice low. "Ward happened. Your anger happened."

His eyes darkened for a second, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it just as quickly. After a long, weighted silence, he took a half step back, his expression softening, just a little.

"I’m on your side, you know," he said quietly, the words almost a whisper, as though they were too important to rush. "I always have been."

The words hung between them, charged and heavy with meaning. She didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t known what to say to Rafe since the day he’d walked away, leaving everything torn apart in his wake.

Before she could respond, Rafe straightened, brushing his hand across his forehead as if clearing his thoughts. He turned toward the door, his back to her now. "I’ll be seeing you around," he muttered over his shoulder, the door swinging open as he left without another word.

Now, as they weaved through the ancient Moroccan city, they were older, scarred by the years of treasure hunts, betrayals, and broken friendships.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Y/N said, stopping suddenly, her dark eyes scanning the shadowed alleyways. She had always been the one with the sixth sense, the one who could feel trouble like a storm on the horizon.

Rafe turned to her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

But before she could answer, they heard Kiara’s voice, shrill and desperate, cutting through the noise of the bustling market.

“Y/N! John B! Pope!”

Y/N’s heart seized in her chest, and without another word, she took off in the direction of Kiara's cries, Rafe hot on her heels. They rounded a corner and found Kiara kneeling on the cobblestones, her face pale and streaked with tears. And lying there, motionless, was JJ.

“No, no, no,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking as she fell to her knees beside her brother. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch JJ’s face, his skin already growing cold under her fingertips.

“JJ, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t leave me. You promised.” She cried.

But there was no response, no flicker of life in those familiar blue eyes. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under her, like the ground had opened up to swallow her whole. Rafe stood behind her, his face pale, his fists clenched at his sides.

The group stood stunned, no one wanting to be the one to move. But they were in a busy, bustling city with a dead body. People would ask questions. “W-We have to get him out of here.” John B stammered. He moved to reach for Y/N, attempting to pry her off of her brother’s body.

Y/N fought against him, muttering things like ‘I’m not leaving him’ or ‘he can’t be alone.’ Rafe takes over for John B and has to use his strength to pull her up to her feet. He held her in his arms, close to his chest to avoid having to see her two best friends moving her brother.

At that moment, all he could really do was hold her.

||

Months had passed since that horrible day in Morocco, but for Y/N, time had ceased to exist. She was back in Kildare, but it was as if she was still stuck in that dark alleyway, kneeling beside her brother’s lifeless body.

Sarah Cameron was heavily pregnant, as she prepared for the birth of her first child with John B. It was supposed to be a time of joy and new beginnings, but the shadow of JJ’s death loomed over them all.

Y/N had fallen into a downward spiral, her grief consuming her. She drank herself into oblivion every night, stumbling through the streets of Kildare like a ghost. She would disappear for days, only to be found passed out on the beach or in the hammock outside her house. The Pogues tried to help her, but she pushed them all away, lost in her own pain.

Sarah had told Rafe about Y/N, how she was drowning in guilt for not being there when JJ had died. The words had hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, reminding him of his own spiral years ago, before his father had dragged him into the hunt for the Royal Merchant’s gold.

He couldn’t let that happen to Y/N. He wouldn’t. He loved her even if he couldn’t admit it.

So he found himself standing on the porch of the Maybank house, staring at the peeling paint on the front door. John B’s van was parked out front, and Rafe assumed he was there trying to talk some sense into Y/N.

A part of him thought ‘oh John B is here, I can come back later.’ But he couldn’t walk away, not this time.He’s walked away from her too many times.

He knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the early afternoon. John B opened the door, his face drawn and tired. “Sarah’s not here.” He told Rafe. “I’m not here for Sarah. I’m here for Y/N.” Rafe answered.

“She’s not doing well, man,” John B said, his voice low. “We don’t know what else to do. I think... I think she feels guilty for not being with JJ when it happened.”

Rafe nodded, his jaw tightening. “Let me talk to her.”

John B hesitated but finally stepped aside, letting Rafe through. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had always surrounded JJ.

Rafe walked down the hall to Y/N’s bedroom, the same room he used to sneak into all those years ago. All of the memories came flooding back as he stopped in front of the door. Nights that ended tangled up in her sheets. Other nights where she just wanted to be held after a fight with her dad.

Rafe pushed the door open to find her cocooned under the comforter, a bottle of vodka sitting on her nightstand.

“JB, please go away,” she mumbled, her voice raw and hoarse. Rafe assumed from a mixture of alcohol and crying.

“Not John B,” Rafe said softly.

Y/N stiffened, slowly emerging from under the covers, moving to sit up against her headboard. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale and gaunt. She looked like a shadow of the girl he once knew.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m worried about you,” Rafe said, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Apparently everyone is,” she muttered, her eyes flicking away from him.

There was a heavy silence, the kind that was filled with all the things they had left unsaid for so many years. Rafe took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“Y/N... I know what it’s like to lose yourself,” he began, his voice steady. “I know what it’s like to drown. I was there once, you know that. Hell, I’m still trying to crawl my way out.”

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “He was always afraid to be alone, and I left him alone,” she choked out. “I should have been there. I should have protected him.”

Rafe’s heart broke at the raw pain in her voice. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Y/N. JJ wouldn’t want that.”

“How would you know?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You never cared about him. About me.”

The words were like a slap in the face, but Rafe took it, knowing she was lashing out from a place of deep hurt. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t care about JJ, and I pushed everyone away. But I always cared about you. And I don’t want to lose you to this, Y/N. I can’t.”

“I’m not your responsibility, Rafe.” Y/N muttered. “No but you’re the person I love.” Rafe replied. “You can’t say things like that.” She practically snapped. “Why not? You used to beg me to tell you how I felt and I finally am. I’m sorry it came so late and it’s happening because of this but I’ll be damned if another person I love gets hurt because I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Rafe told her.

She stared at him, the anger draining from her eyes, leaving only exhaustion. “I don’t know how to come back from this,” she whispered.

“Let me help you,” Rafe said, his voice breaking. “Please. Let me be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

There was a long pause, and then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. It was a small gesture, but it was enough.

“I’ll try,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll try to get better.”

“And I’ll be here,” Rafe promised, reaching out to take her hand. “Through it all. I’m not going anywhere.”

||

A year had passed since that day in Morocco. The sun was shining over the Outer Banks, the salty breeze carrying the sound of laughter and the distant crash of waves. The Pogues had gathered for a special occasion, a day of celebration and new beginnings.

Sarah and John B’s son, Jackson, was turning one today, and they were throwing a beach party in his honor. Y/N stood on the edge of the gathering, watching as Sarah bounced her son on her hip, his tiny hands reaching for the birthday cake.

Y/N was sober, clear-eyed, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again. She had fought her way out of the darkness with Rafe by her side, and though the pain of losing her brother would never fully fade, she was learning to live with it.

Rafe approached her, a soft smile on his lips. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I think I am.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

She leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering shadows. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

Rafe smiled down at her before she moved up on her toes and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, Rafe.” She spoke quietly. “I love you too.” He replied.

They stood there together, watching as their friends celebrated a new chapter of their lives, a chapter filled with hope and healing.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N believed that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.