#truth about supplements

[health-supplementproducts]

Lean Bliss Supplements - Health

Leaning into Success: My Review of Lean Bliss Supplements

I've always struggled with maintaining a healthy weight. Tried every fad diet under the sun, from cabbage soup concoctions to grapefruit marathons, but nothing seemed to stick. Feeling disheartened and sluggish, I decided to explore a more natural approach. That's when I stumbled upon Lean Bliss Supplements, and let me tell you, it's been a game-changer!

Natural Ingredients for Natural Results

Lean Bliss boasts a formula packed with natural goodness. We're talking ingredients like Berberine, a plant extract known for regulating blood sugar, and Chromium, a mineral that aids insulin sensitivity. There's also a sprinkle of Cinnamon, which not only adds a delightful touch but also helps manage blood sugar levels. These are just a few of the goodies Lean Bliss brings to the table, all free from GMOs and nasties.

Now, I'm a bit of a cynic when it comes to "natural" supplements, but I have to say, I felt a noticeable difference after a few weeks. My energy levels soared, those afternoon slumps became a distant memory. Plus, I found myself reaching for sugary snacks far less often.

Curbing Cravings and Boosting Metabolism

Lean Bliss claims to curb cravings and boost metabolism, and I can definitely vouch for that. Gone are the days of battling biscuit cravings – I simply don't feel the same urge to indulge. I believe this is due to the blood sugar regulation aspect. When my blood sugar's stable, I don't experience those dramatic dips that send me scrambling for a sugary pick-me-up.

As for the metabolism boost, well, that translates to more whooshes in the gym! I noticed I could push myself further during workouts, burning more calories in the process. It's a fantastic feeling to see your hard work pay off, and Lean Bliss definitely contributes to that.

A Gentle Nudge in the Right Direction

It's important to remember that Lean Bliss isn't a magic bullet. It works best alongside a healthy diet and regular exercise. Think of it as a gentle nudge in the right direction. It provides that extra support you need to manage cravings, maintain healthy blood sugar levels, and potentially experience an energy boost.

In my experience, Lean Bliss has been a fantastic addition to my health and wellness routine. It's helped me feel more energised, manage my weight more effectively, and on top of that, it even tastes pleasant – a bonus for someone who struggles to swallow pills! If you're looking for a natural way to support your weight management journey, I highly recommend giving Lean Bliss a try. Remember, consult your doctor before starting any new supplement, but for me, Lean Bliss has been a delightful discovery.pen_sparktunesharemore_vert

[naukrisambad]

Understanding Supplemental Insurance Policies In 2024

Supplemental insurance policies offer additional coverage beyond what is provided by primary health insurance plans. These policies serve as a valuable tool to bridge gaps in coverage, providing financial protection for specific healthcare needs that may not be fully addressed by primary insurance alone. In this comprehensive guide, we’ll explore the significance of supplemental insurance…

[satoruxx]

SAUDADE.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader | 3.7k words

✧ SUMMARY: canon au, set after geto leaves so lots of unresolved feelings, alternate between past and present, megumi and tsumiki cameo, satoru has a raging crush on you but you're blind, suguru also had a raging crush on you but you were still blind, slight angst bc canon jjk events, lots of longing on suguru's end, you're confused af, satoru PINES for you and shoko is so tired of him, but overall very fluffy

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: will i ever publish the actual canon au? who knows. this fic is written in that same au but it's just a snippet of their lives. if you've read angel on my shoulder, just know that's an alternate ending of this au where reader dies lol. but this is very sweet bc you don't die !! you and satoru love each other lots but suck at showing it. happy valentine's day everyone <33

you glance at satoru's giddy smile, wariness creeping up your shoulders before turning to shoko. "what's wrong with him?" you ask, shifting slightly from where you're leaning against one of balconies of jujutsu high.

"who knows?" she sighs, eyes flickering up to glance at the snowy haired sorcerer just barely before they turn back to you. "ignore him."

"hey!" satoru huffs, walking closer to sling an arm around your shoulder—casual, like it's something he doesn't have to think about. you grumble under the extra weight, shooting him a glare, but he's too busy smiling like he's up to something.

"so…" he grins down at you, eyes shining and full of mischief. "know what day it is today?"

you blink at him, trying to scour your brain. "what's the date again?"

satoru gives you a blank stare, before sighing heavily. "god you're slow. it's february 14th, stupid."

"oh," you reply blankly, relaxing because it's nothing inherently important. "so valentine's day?"

satoru's smile comes back full force—cheeky and blinding. "exactly! and when i went shopping today guess what happened?"

"what happened?" shoko asks boredly, shaking her head when she makes eye contact with you.

"well," he drags out the word, crossing his arms like he's pleased with himself. "i was walking along after picking up some sweets because—"

"because you have an addiction," you supplement, and satoru pauses to glare down at you, reaching out to flick a long finger against your forehead.

"it's not an addiction! and don't interrupt me! anyways—"

you smother a smile that shoko mirrors.

"—i was walking and then these two girls came up to me all smiley. like they were giggling and shit, right?"

"uh huh."

"and they started going on and on about how i was the most handsome guy they've ever seen. and then they asked how come i was walking around by myself on valentine's day."

you blink, suddenly feeling a strange mix of interest and irritation.

"so i told them that it's not really my thing and that i didn't have anyone to celebrate with anyway. and then they said it was actually a crime that someone like me was single on valentine's day."

you have to suppress a roll of your eyes, though you're not sure why.

"so basically the moral of the story is that i'm extremely charming and super good-looking too! and that girls love me!"

he looks at you, eyes scrutinizing your expression as you glance at shoko, unimpressed.

"that's it? that's your crazy story?"

"well you guys always say i'm full of it when i call myself hot! now i have proof that it's a universal truth!"

"well we're not stupid—" shoko rolls her eyes, hugging her arms to push away the cold as she leans against the railing. "—we know you're freakishly hot. you're just obnoxious and we like teasing you."

"ugh." satoru rolls his eyes, huffing as he stretches his joints. "you guys are ridiculous. and—"

he pauses, an odd expression crossing his face as he blinks in thought. then he's turning to you with the most smug smirk you've ever seen on him. "wait. you think i'm hot?"

you frown, lips parting in mild confusion. "huh?"

"that's what shoko just said. that you think i'm freakishly hot."

your brows shoot up, an unfamiliar rush of heat crawling up your skin. "but she said both of us! like it's just something that's obvious. i mean as long as you have eyes anyone can see—"

"oh so it's obvious, is it?" satoru's expression is oddly giddy, a pink flush settling high on his cheekbones.

you gape at him, suddenly speechless. you don't remember satoru ever having the ability to make you speechless before.

you can't comprehend the stirring in your chest—uncomfortable and unfamiliar.

"you—" you scoff, reaching up to shove him away. "you're full of shit. doesn't change no matter how hot you are."

shoko has gone quiet, eyes darting between you and satoru with an uncharacteristic glint of curiosity. but satoru's gaze does not stray away from you, pearly whites on full display as he licks his lips. he doesn't say anything else, running his fingers through his hair.

"sure sure," satoru hums—pleased. "whatever you say."

you throw shoko an exasperated glare, and she shakes her head, though there is a shine of amusement in her eyes—like she knows something that you don't.

"i mean, they were right you know?" satoru ponders, leaning back against the railing. "why aren't we doing something fun today? we used to go out and buy a shit ton of chocolate back when—"

he stops, expression going sour, before disappearing all together. there is a clear absence, one that the three of you notice but try not to linger on.

("valentine's day?" suguru had asked years ago, glancing down at you with a smile. "you like it?"

"definitely not," you reply, cheeks warming as you fiddle with the sugared churros in your hand, unable to look at him. "what's so great about a day where couples spend a shit ton of money on each other to make the rest of us singles feel miserable?"

a muted chuckle, and when you look up suguru's eyes are shining with mirth. "i'm sure you wouldn't think that if you weren't single."

"i guess," you huff, glancing at the sidewalk. your face feels like it's on fire—but suguru has always had that effect on you. "not very likely to happen though."

the expression suguru throws you will linger in your mind until the day you die. "what do you mean?" he asks—incredulous, like you were speaking nonsense. he stops in his tracks, the busy streets bustling around him as you continue to walk.

you take a bite of your churro, glancing back at him with clear confusion. "huh? oh i just meant me dating someone is unlikely," you shrug, though suguru looks speechless, lips parted and eyes wide behind dark bangs.

"why on earth do you say that?" he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. he seems to visibly shake off his initial shock to continue walking, and you patiently wait for him to rejoin your side—he does.

"i don't know," you say, somewhat bashfully because you don't usually talk about these things with him. "do you really think there's room for things like that in our lives?"

"do you?" he counters, and you're too busy formulating your answer to notice that he's oddly interested, eyes continuously darting over your face.

"i mean, it'd be great if there was," you ponder, taking another quick bite. "it'd be nice to be able to settle down with someone even after all the crap we've gone through."

"right…" suguru seems to nod along with you, matching your steps even with his longer stride.

"but—" you stress. "considering that most of us are too traumatized or dead by that time, i don't have much faith."

you laugh at your own statement, but there isn't much amusement in it at all. putting it into words makes you truly realize how shitty your lives are even at such a young age.

your mind drifts to the cerulean eyed sorcerer who's currently off in a different city, being made to fight because he is god on earth in a seventeen year old body. it drifts to a brown haired girl who sits, secluded in a room as bodies are sent to her on a conveyor belt, her hands outstretched to feel blood and gore and horror day in and day out. then it drifts to the boy who is most like you, the one with the dark bangs who rationalizes this pain, this service you have devoted yourselves to with the need to do good for others—because there is no other explanation for why you have to go through this.

the same boy who takes your answer in critically, eyes heavy with an oddly somber sheen. he doesn't say anything, thinking hard, and you focus on eating your churro because you've never once found silence with suguru to be uncomfortable.

you are halfway finished when he breaks it.

"well…" suguru's voice is oddly high, a tick of nerves that doesn't usually infiltrate his calm tone. "if there was room for it, what would a good valentine's day look like for you?"

you laugh, loud and unfiltered, and suguru's skin flushes at the sound.

"i don't know!" your laughter dies down into hushed giggles. "i can't think of anything. besides this is stupid as hell!"

"indulge me," he says quietly, and when you turn to look up at him he's staring at you deeply—eyes hooded and smile gone. you suddenly feel oddly parched as heat crawls up your neck.

"um—" you swallow, the churro in your hand forgotten as you glance at the sidewalk again. "i-i'm not sure. i've really never thought that much about it."

"would you want flowers?" he asks. you suddenly become acutely aware that his voice has gone lower, throaty and deep in a way that sends chills up your spine.

you shake your head quietly, somehow nervous to look at him. "it makes me sad that they die off in a few days. better to keep them planted than cut them for a bouquet."

a quiet huff of laughter—fond and nostalgic. "that's on par for you. very in-character."

you lick your lips, tasting the sugar from the treat in your hand. "i guess…maybe i'd like chocolates?"

"chocolates?" suguru repeats, like he's surprised. you don't know why his reaction has you stumbling, but you shake your head quickly, appalled that you're even telling him this in the first place.

"i mean—it's not a big deal or anything! even just a small box of them would do! i don't really care anyway—"

"i would've guessed you'd like a plushie or something along those lines." he hums, a small smile stretching across his face. there's a dust of color blooming across his cheekbones, and you think he looks unfairly charming.

"that's good too!" you reply, too quickly, before catching yourself and ducking your head. "i mean…i don't know. plushies are really cute. i think they'd be a cute gift."

there's a beat of silence, and when you look up suguru is smiling at you like you've just put the stars in the sky for him. he hums to himself, eyes darting around the streets and looking much more at ease than he did a few minutes prior. you find yourself unable to look away.

"what would you want?" the words escape before you can stop them.

"me?" he asks, tilting his head in mild surprise.

"yeah. what would you want for valentine's day?"

suguru blanches, gaze darting over your facial features with shocking speed. it lingers on your eyes, before flickering downward, then shooting back up. you're trying to trace them but they're too fast, and he shuts them before you can process anything. he keeps his eyes closed as you curiously await his answer.

to this day you don't quite understand what he meant.

"anything i can get," he answers with a rueful smile, shaking his head at you fondly. his eyes bore into yours with an intensity you've never seen before. "anything at all.")

a familiar voice tickles your ear amongst the silence even now, and you rub your palms together. you can feel satoru's gaze on you, trailing over your expression—searching, analyzing.

you let him—used to it.

"that's enough of that for now. plus don't the two of you have to go check on the kids today?" shoko asks, eyeing the two of you pointedly. her voice has a strain to it, one that you can only pick up because you've known her so long. but you're grateful for the change in subject as you glance at satoru, who checks his phone.

"ah shit. they should be back from school by now but we were supposed to pick up some groceries beforehand," he mutters under his breath before looking down at you. "you wanna head over there first and i'll go get some stuff?"

"sure," you reply, patting shoko's shoulder in farewell. satoru steps closer, digging into his pockets before dropping the apartment keys into your palm. he pushes his shades up the bridge of his nose, eyes trailing over your face like he's searching for something, and yet you can't make out what.

a beat of silence.

"d-don't forget to get some of those cookies tsumiki said she liked last time." you drop the keys into your bag and shrug off the odd feeling of this conversation—something strange that you don't feel like looking into because you're scared of what you'll find out about yourself.

satoru's eyes go soft, a mixture of somber and affectionate, and he smiles easily. "you got it." he reaches out to ruffle your hair, licking his lips as he heads for the door. "see you later."

you watch him go, and think that you'd rather have him by your side. but you keep that to yourself—so used to sewing your mouth shut.

("which do you want?" you ask satoru, who peers at the shelves over your shoulder. his close proximity does nothing to you, but he seems oddly giddy when he glances at your side profile.

"hmm, the white chocolate," he answers, low and hushed, like it's meant only for you to hear. you can feel the energy radiating off of him—can feel it shake your very soul.

"okay," you reply, reaching up for the box, but satoru beats you to it. he stretches up, towering over you and you shoot him an playful glare. he had gotten a growth spurt over the holidays and wouldn't let you forget it.

"aw this is so sweet of you," he teases, excited and all too pleased. you roll your eyes, hiding a smile.

"you're the one who's been bugging us for valentine's day chocolate."

"like it wasn't a good idea," he counters with a grin. "even if we're all single we should still get chocolate."

you snort in amusement, before turning to call out across the aisle. "suguru which one should i get you?"

the dark haired male meets your gaze, and the warmth of it sends a tickle through your stomach. he shakes his head with a gentle smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. "don't worry about it. you know i'm not big on sweets anyway."

you deflate—he smiles at you like he's happy you asked.

"you can give me his share," satoru interjects with a playful smirk, pressing his palm into your shoulder. you shake your head in exasperation.

"no way. i'm still going to get him something." your eyes dart across the shelves, before you reach up and pull down a box of unsweetened chocolates, tied with a red ribbon. "this should be good."

satoru eyes the box, and you glance at him. "suguru would like these right?"

"yeah," he shrugs, before crossing his arms. "as long as they aren't crazy sweet. he hates sweet stuff."

"okay good. then i'll get him these!" your smile stretches wide, and it doesn't go unnoticed.

"you're being awfully thoughtful today," satoru comments. you look at him quickly, quirking a brow.

"well i can't just get you one. you're not my only friend." you shoot back.

satoru grins. "guess that's true."

his arm takes its position around your shoulder as you head towards the counter.

"you were really particular about getting suguru something though. any special reason?" he pipes up, and you immediately go still, looking at him as you try to bite back an uncharacteristic surge of panic.

"of course not! i got something for everyone. i even got shoko the rum and raisin chocolates." you say quickly, fighting the urge to crumble under satoru's implications. "besides this was all your idea anyway!"

you dig into your wallet, pulling out exact change and smiling at the cashier, who puts all of your chocolates into a bag. you decide you'll gift them later, when you're in the comfort of the dorm.

"okay let's leave—" you pause when you turn around, breath catching.

because satoru is staring at you, an odd expression on his face. there's something behind his eyes—realization mixed with another emotion you can't quite place.

you're not sure if the expression excites you or scares you.)

you don't expect tsumiki to be so excited when you push open the door. she bounds out of her small bedroom, practically tripping over herself as she chants your name over excited giggles.

"hey kiddo, how was school?" you smile as she throws her arms around your waist. you pat her hair, making a mental note to take her for a haircut sometime soon.

"good! my friends gave me some chocolates today!" she's giddy as she says this, and you smile playfully.

"oh yeah? any boys?"

she immediately flusters at your quirked brow and teasing grin. "of course not!"

you laugh, patting her head again as you take a seat on the couch. "okay okay! where's your brother?"

you don't see the dark haired nine-year-old anywhere. normally he'd be doing his homework at the kitchen table—so much more diligent than you ever were at that age.

"he's in his room," tsumiki answers, and your eyes catch the sneaky bit of amusement in her face.

"doing what?" you ask curiously. she smothers a smile, shrugging.

"i'm not sure." she raises her voice to call out. "megumi! she's here!"

you can hear him grumbling down the hall, hear his little footsteps padding across the floor—affection swells within you.

you think back to the day satoru dragged you to meet him, and you internally remind yourself to thank him.

"hey gumi." you offer the kid a smile, though it falters when you notice the way his hands are hiding behind his back even as he mumbles a quiet greeting in return. "what's wrong?"

"i…" his voice catches, and you notice the heavy pink flush crawling up his neck and into his cheeks. "i just wanted to…"

he trails off again, and tsumiki nudges him discreetly. "just do it!" she whispers, not all that quietly. your eyes dart between them in confusion, and megumi tries to sink into his sweater's collar.

"megumi what's wrong? are you okay?" there's a note of concern you can't keep from your voice, and tsumiki gently pushes him closer to you. "did something happen?"

"no…" he mumbles, attempting to hide his face even more. "i just wanted to…give…"

you blink owlishly. "give…?"

megumi lets out an exasperated huff, brows pinching helplessly before thrusting his arms into your line of sight. "here!"

your lips part. in his little hands are a box of chocolates and a small stuffed bear.

"this is…" you trail off, taking them from his hands.

"he wanted to give you something for valentine's day! to show you how much he appreciates you!" tsumiki interjects, practically bouncing on her feet.

"no i didn't! it's just chocolates stop making it sound like such a big deal!" megumi immediately snaps, glaring at his sister. you can practically see his cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you think you will never stop caring for this kid. there's a tickle of a distant memory—small fists clenched around a backpack and deep green eyes that stare up at you in childish apprehension.

those same green eyes now sneak glances at you, assessing your reaction, and you decide to put him out of his misery.

"this is so sweet megumi. thank you!" you smile at him gratefully, touched beyond recognition. your heart swells with affection once more.

megumi shoves his hands into his pockets, a stubborn pout on his face that makes the fat of his cheeks look that much more endearing. "whatever, it's not a big deal."

tsumiki shoots him a glare, before turning to you with a wide smile. "he says that but he was really excited to get you something!"

megumi gapes at her, eyes going wide in betrayal before they narrow. "shut up! besides it was gojo-san who gave me the idea!"

you blink, before smiling somewhat gingerly. though there is a strange sort of satisfaction in you when you hear those words—the mention of satoru's name. as detached as he tries to remain, you know all too well how much more there is to his character.

"i thought gojo-san would suggest flowers," tsumiki ponders, reaching out to squish the little bear before looking at you curiously. "aren't flowers a typical gift to get someone for valentine's day?"

you shrug, smiling carelessly. "i guess so. but i'm glad he didn't because i don't really like flowe—"

it hits you. echoes of a conversation that occurred many many winters ago. it washes over you, a refreshing tide that cools your skin and tickles your face.

of course, it made sense now that you thought about it. there were no secrets between satoru and suguru after all.

a chime cuts through the silence. you glance down at your phone to see a casual text from the snowy haired wonderboy who has been by your side since the beginning, and you can't help but smile.

i'll be home in a minute :P

a promise that has remained constant all these years.

so you type back.

hurry back. waiting for you.

you smile to yourself, heart thudding heavily against your ribcage. "hm."

tsumiki quirks a brow. "what?"

"nothing," you shake your head, wetting your lips as you reach down to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. she smiles at you, stars in her eyes, and you think you'll remember that smile forever. "i was just thinking."

"about what?" megumi can't stop the curiosity from seeping into his voice as he peers at you. you grin, gently patting his head with the bear plushie and laughing when he swats you away.

"valentine's day," you answer, smiling at them as you stand up to head to the door. you already know who's about to knock. "i was just thinking that it's not too bad of a holiday."

[revehae]

weak (r. fantasies)

warnings: smut, noncon, virgin!jisung x (f) anemic!reader, drugging

wc. 990

i been writing this on and off for 24 days and youre telling me its only 990 words im not a serious person at all… fake news its longer now cause i suddenly added one (1) sentence. thank you @neocentral for holding a gun to my head

for two entire days, jisung was antsy. even the mere thought of you, no matter how brief, made a cool wind sweep over his shoulders and his gut tighten uncomfortably.

he knew what he was going to do, and he knew how he was going to do it, but even more so, he knew that it was wrong.

but if he knew that it was wrong, then why did he resolve himself to do it anyway? why did he smile in your face as if he didn’t know that he was about to hurt you? why didn’t he give jeno back his stuff, instead of holding onto it all this time?

jisung didn’t have any idea what it was, other than what jeno had told him while pressing the tiny bag into his chest. colorless, odorless, tasteless, and she’ll be out long enough for you to do all the dirty, perverted stuff you’re too scared to do while she’s awake.

but the truth was that compared to the thought of doing it while you were awake, this terrified jisung tenfold. would it still hurt you, bother you? would you feel the soreness between your thighs and instantly know what he had done? would you hate him more because you wouldn’t remember?

those were the thoughts hurtling through his head when you got up to use the bathroom. but if he was going to do it, he had to act quickly. your nightstand was littered with prescriptions pills and jisung knew you took the iron supplements every night. he poured the powder into your water bottle, watching it disappear as he shook it.

jisung’s heart raced at a rhythm he never knew could be possible when you came back and grabbed a hold of your water bottle. you didn’t make a face, drinking it like nothing was the matter. and he was surprised by how quickly you were out. in the few minutes it took to take effect, you didn’t even have time to become sleepy.

for a long minute, jisung didn’t even seem to remember why he had done this anymore. he was staring at your face, poking your cheek to see if you would react, but you didn’t stir. he worried that maybe you were dead, but when he put his finger to the base of your neck, there was still a normal pulse.

jisung’s breath quickened when he realized all of the things he could do to you right now. he didn’t dive in headfirst like he thought he would, his fingers absentmindedly trailing your soft skin first. he started with your neck, since his hand was already there, gently tightening his fingers around it. he wanted to mark you so badly, but he couldn’t.

he brought his thump up to your bottom lip, overcome by the formerly suppressed urge to kiss you, and with nothing to stop him, he pressed his lips to yours. he was mildly annoyed that you couldn’t kiss him back, but on the bright side, he still had the opportunity to touch you.

to do all the dirty, perverted stuff he was too scared to do while you were awake, as jeno put it.

his words always echoed in jisung’s head, influencing him in ways that were less than healthy. you could easily take her, if you weren’t so weak in the knees, jeno would tease, nudging jisung painfully. she’s anemic, for fuck’s sake. she can’t be that strong. 

jisung pulled back to gape at you in your night gown. he always thought you looked good in them. the way they gave away your collarbone and the little lace ribbon where your cleavage stopped, and the way the cute sleeves cuffed at your wrists was endearing to him.

but right now, as he gingerly bunched up the dress and caught sight of your lilac, cotton panties, the only thing he could think about was how desperately he ached to be inside you, to feel your sticky, throbbing walls cling around his virgin cock. to prove that he wasn’t a coward, that he wasn’t weak like you were. 

and for that reason, he couldn’t be slow and steady anymore. he knew there was no clock on him, nothing pacing him and nothing threatening to tear him away from the warmth of you, but his self-restraint had already worn thin and he was running on empty.

jisung convinced himself that you wanted him as he sheathed himself deep inside you with a guttural groan, every impatient inch of him. it may not have come from your mouth, but the slick somewhat facilitating his entry was answer enough. you may not have known what was happening, but your body was hyper aware.

god, jisung’s was, too. he couldn’t resist the tight squeeze, the way your pussy gripped him for dear life, and he tipped his head forward as his hands gripped your thighs to anchor himself before he fell too deep. even they were warm, the most cute and supple pair.

his eyes were completely closed, winced shut at the first pulse of your warm and tight cunt around his dick. he knew you would have loved him, if you could feel him. he knew he was big enough to please you. the guys too often teased him, saying he had all those inches, but not a hint of what to do with any.

but jisung knew right now. driving his hips passionately into yours, big hands clasping at your soft, moisturized skin, he knew he could make you feel things unimaginable. the sounds you were unknowingly yanking out of his throat, he could easily pull out of you. the way his face tensed with pleasure, he was certain he could make short work of you, too. 

“so weak,” jisung whispered into deaf ears, burying his face in your neck, and breathing in your ravishing scent. he imagined you calling him sungie like you always did, and it only made him grunt. “it’s okay. i’ll protect you. like i always have.”

[mysticheathenn]

Why Are You Still Single?

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is for my Patreon All Tiers. This pick-a-card reading is all about why you are not in a relationship and how to invite more love into your life.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

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Pile l:

Why are you still single? Tarot: The Magician, The Empress, The Star, 8 of Cups, 6 of Swords (reversed), 5 of Swords

You don't see the beauty in yourself pile l. You are always giving away your power to someone else who does not see the beauty in you and you use their lack of love not only for others and themselves but their lack of love for you as facts to tell you about yourself. Who you are? If you are beautiful, kind, or generous? Are you worthy of love? Some of you most likely have dealt with abusive relationships or narcissistic people. This could be mental, physical, or emotional abuse, and could also be family and not a romantic relationship who like to tell you that you aren't good enough. Either way, for some strange reason you don't know how to release the same stories you keep entertaining from others and yourself. It's as if you have given up on yourself and refuse to see anything good about you because of your past history. You are the star. You are the Empress, pile l. You are loving, giving, kind, abundant, and beautiful. You do not need permission from others to exist or to feel worthy of anything or loved. Why must you torture yourself with the same stories that have led you nowhere but with depression, anxiety, and self-doubt? Look in the mirror and do affirmations about the kind of person you truly believe you are or if you still can't see what kind of person you are say affirmations about the kind of person you wish you could be. You don't need to believe it at first, and it may feel silly but it will help you look in the mirror and see what those with kind and beautiful hearts see when they look at you. Patreon Link

Pile ll:

Why are you still single? Tarot: The Tower, 6 of Cups, 4 of Swords (reversed), The Emperor (reversed), 9 of Wands

This is for some of you but you may have grown up in a household where your dad or a father figure wasn't around. If he was around he wasn't the best example of what you should look for in a partner and it has led you to carry beliefs that may hold some truths but in reality, most of it is just a way to keep you safe from getting hurt romantically. For others of you, these beliefs have led you down a path where you have had nothing but hardship in your dating life. Some people may have called you picky, unrealistic, or even called you the crazy one for not allowing people to play in your face. But some of you cut people out of your life just for breathing wrong and that is somewhat part of the problem. You are so concerned about not getting hurt or having people play in your face that you don't give people a chance to show who they really are. You take any and everything you see whether from social media, friends past relationships, or what you feel is intuition when really it's paranoia as a red flag. People are human and are allowed to make mistakes and it's okay to make a mistake here or there. I can already hear some of you say "Well they can make a mistake over there because over here you come correct." Here's the thing pile ll if someone isn't consistent with their words matching their actions it's to the left to the left, but if someone forgets to call but has done nothing wrong beforehand (meaning they are consistent but this one time forgets) that isn't a red flag nor does it always mean things are going downhill from there. It's okay to give people grace and still hold your standards and not deal with heartbreak or your time being wasted. It's called communication and not seeing everything that is more anxiety and paranoia as a sign of intuition. Patreon Link

Pile lll:

Why are you still single? Tarot: 5 of Wands (reversed), 4 of Cups (reversed), 2 of Pentacles, 5 of Swords, 10 of Wands (reversed)

You're not really looking for anything pile lll. I am hearing the quote "You're not in competition with other suitors. You're in competition with my peace. Does your presence make me not want to be single anymore? What do you bring to the table?" I hear that pile lll and I stand with you in this decision. When and if you are looking for someone you are looking for someone who can bring balance to your life and not chaos, stress, and drama. You want someone who can bring things to the relationship that you either can not bring on your own or help provide peace and stabilize it as well. You don't want to bring just anyone to your table just for the sake of not being alone and loneliness. People need to offer some sort of significance to you for you to give anyone the time of day let alone look their way. For some of you, you're questioning if this is the right decision. You may have been single or even celibate for a while now and I am confirming to you to stay strong and hold out for that person who offers you what you deserve in a relationship. You will be fine and there is someone out there who will see your requirements as "That's all while others told you, you were asking for too much." You have gone through too much and did so much work on yourself to get to the level of peace that you are experiencing in your life to second guess yourself or lower your standards just to appease others or have someone in your life. Remember "You would rather adjust your life to the absence of someone than lower yours to appease disrespect." That is exactly what you will be allowing in your life if you lower your standards now. You will also be disrespecting yourself in the process too. Patreon Link

Pile lV:

Why are you still single? Tarot: The Moon, 4 of Pentacles, The Hermit, The Chariot, The Star (reversed)

Pile lV you may have been somewhat drawn to pile l but not completely drawn to it. This energy somewhat mirrors them but instead of you giving away your power to others and letting them tell you about your worth. Your pile is if pile l decided to do the work it takes to not have that energy anymore. Most of you are single by choice and others of you are single because God (universe, Allah, source, etc) has placed you in solitude so you can focus on yourself. There is something that you are being called to do pile lV. You are on your path of walking into your purpose. If not your purpose you are walking into a path that aligns more with where you need and should be in life whether it's something you have been desiring and it requires isolation from you or something spirit has said you need but you are confused as to what that is. Either way during this time you are doing the work that it takes to bring in this new love for you. Some of you may be doing shadow work with the Moon card here. You are working on the parts of yourself that you find either unattractive, unlovable, or even toxic for some of you. This doesn't have to be physical a lot of the work I am seeing for you have to deal with emotional and mental health and for a few of you this could be you working out and becoming a healthier version of yourself. You are wanting to come out on top unrecognizable with the star card in reverse. You want to operate as your highest self and to bring in healthy and loving relationships that match the frequency you are trying to attain. I'm hearing Hot GIrl Summer, That Girl, etc anything where you are doing something with yourself instead of falling into victim mentality or even allowing your thoughts to deceive you into thinking you are unworthy of a beautiful life or relationship. Patreon Link

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

[breelandwalker]

You seem like you're more familiar with the broader occult community than my scholarly shut in ass. I'm curious. If there were a few lessons you wish you could drill into the head of every prominent social media occultist, what would they be?

Ohhh the number one thing I wish I could drill into the head of every aspiring occultist and magical practitioner is that CRITICAL THINKING IS YOUR FRIEND.

Study magic but keep fact-checking! If there's a claim in a book on witchcraft that should be able to be backed up by mundane sources, look for those sources. If they're not cited in the book, that's a red flag. If the sources you do find don't support the claim, that's another, bigger red flag. This is especially true with claims about history, science, medicine, psychology, anthropology, and religion.

Also, be wary of anything New Age. There's a pipeline to anti-science, eugenics, and racism there that runs directly through portions of the modern pagan and witchcraft communities and it's brightly painted with New Age buzzwords.

If something seems too good to be true, it probably is. If something seems geared to appeal to your emotions, especially that which seems formulated to make you feel special or "chosen" or to fire up some kind of righteous anger or feelings of superiority, you should immediately be suspicious of it.

If a source tells you to disregard science, modern medicine, or recorded history, or tries to tell you that some people are inherently more special or magical or deserving of power than others, discard it immediately. That is a bad source.

Don't believe everything you see or hear online. Too many witches roll their eyes at their parents and grandparents believing everything they read on Facebook, then turn around and insist that everything they've seen on TikTok or Tumblr or YouTube is Absolute Truth.

Believing in and studying magic does not mean that common sense goes out the window. You should be supplementing your magical studies with parallel practical topics (i.e. botany, geology, chemistry, mythology, etc) and ALWAYS keep one foot squarely planted on the ground.

[zipper-neck]

Trans Rules of Engagement

By Florence Ashley

Strong communities make us all safer. As anti-trans movements gain in power and influence, holding space for each other through our flaws remains critical. Yet the very conditions that create our need for community care make it hard for us to care for each other. We are raw, wounded, traumatized, and hypervigilant. We make mistakes brought on by fear and hurt. We lash out at each other when we do wrong, often partaking in pile-ons facilitated by the synchronous nature of online interactions. Whether we realize it or not, we often exclude trans people from community when they need it most.

I have lost count of the number of trans people I have seen cast out of online trans spaces for misdeeds both major and minor—far too often with my help. I sometimes find myself wondering where they are now and whether they are still alive. Because, as Kai Cheng Thom has taught us, social death often means real death for trans people. Trans communities are life-sustaining in a world that hates us so, so much. In a world that wants us dead. We have lost too many people not to stop and think about how we can foster life among each other.

This goal I have for myself—that of fostering life—motivates the following principles and rules for engaging in online intra-community conflicts while preserving the life-sustaining spirit of our communities. Countless times have I failed to heed these principles and ignored these rules. This failure, which many of us share, is precisely why I now want to lay these principles and rules down on paper. If only as a reminder of my aspirations. The principles and rules are meant to be adopted for oneself, not imposed onto others. Their purpose is to foster productive engagement, not create even more conflict and rigidity. I hope that this will be a living document, and invite you to make your own version if you would like. Borrow what is useful, supplement with what is needed, alter what can be improved.

Some, and perhaps all, of the principles I acknowledge are false, hence the need for a living document. Each of my suggested rules have exceptions. In setting them out, I am staking a claim as to the sort of myths and half-truths that are necessary to sustain life in a world that wants us dead. We must treat them as true if we wish to foster life-sustaining communities and survive the hellscape we belabor.

Principles

1. We are all flawed, traumatized humans at the end of their rope. Many of our actions say more about the conditions we live under than who we are as people.

2. No one is disposable. No one is unsalvageable.

3. Life holds greater value than being right or comfortable. Hurt is preferable to death.

4. No one should be deprived of community.

5. Harm does not require further harm. Punishment does not equate protection or healing.

Rules

1. Do not depart from these rules, unless you have to.

2. Morgan M. Page’s Rule: Try to avoid criticizing other trans people in public. The world does it enough already.

3. Favor in person or private conversations: Addressing someone’s comments or actions in person or privately is typically more constructive and effective. It allows you to communicate more cogently and with more nuance problems in someone’s actions or words and because it is less likely to make them react defensively from a place of trauma or fear.

4. Take your time: Few things require an immediate response. Responding while caught in a surge of thoughts and feelings is often unproductive. Ask yourself how much harm was done, versus how much we are reminded of an earlier harm. Ask whether your response is rooted in misperception or potential biases towards the person due to race, disability, gender, or other marginalized identities. Consider whether their words or actions reflect a different kind of thinking or communication style, a lack of access to education, or limited access to progressive communities and norms. You can respond tomorrow, once you have collected your thoughts, talked to others, and gained perspective.

5. Don’t mob: Be aware of group dynamics. Ask yourself if you are connected to this person and in community with them. Avoid jumping into the fray when others are already criticizing the person. Do not invite others to join in and mob them. Withdraw if others join in, and kindly ask people to stay conscious of mobbing dynamics. Mobbing rapidly grows out of proportion.

6. De-escalate: Focus on de-escalating conflicts. Ask what people mean or want, and why. Ask them for clarification or elaboration if needed. Ask yourself if you know enough about the context of the situation. Distinguish the action from the person, and acknowledge that it is normal to respond defensively or aggressively to public criticism and mobbing. People are traumatized, mentally ill, and are scared of losing the little social support they have. As a result, conflict can trigger a fight-or-flight response in both those who are criticized and who criticize, which leads to escalating conflict and ends in a loss of community. Dropping the conversation to return at a later date is preferable to escalation. Often, I find it best to limit myself to three replies in conversations that aren’t constructive.

7. Respond proportionately: Responses to words and behaviours should be proportionate to their harm, and reflect a need for healing and protection rather than punishment. When we speak from a place of hurt, we can understandably but unfortunately forget the measure and impact of our response. Use language that reflects the nuances and gradations of harm rather than a coarse good and evil binary. Cutting all social support and community banishment are rarely a proportionate response, even for someone who doubles down and does not apologize. Responding proportionately is asking first and foremost what response sustains rather than dissolves life. Especially when it comes to words, it is better to under-react than to over-react.

8. Ensure support for everyone: Check in on those who are criticized and those who criticize them. Remind people that we are all in this together, and that banishment is not how we work as a community. Everyone deserves to have their needs met. Do not shun or reproach people who offer support to those who were criticized or called out. Distinguish supporting a person from enabling their behavior.

9. Hold space for people to grow: Allow space for people to be accountable, change, and move on from previous conflicts. Do not hold past behavior over people’s head, nor dig up past misdeeds to fuel present conflicts.

10. Resolve conflict and harm as a community: We must ask how our communities enable and cause hurt and harm, and find ways to transform the conditions that create them. Holding accountable, problem-solving, and conflict resolution are functions that should be taken up by the collective, not isolated and unsupported individuals.

11. Center those most hurt or harmed: Focus on supporting and empowering people who are hurt and harmed rather than on punishment. Ask what they need to be safe and integrated in our communities, while committing to support for everyone; what they need to repair their relationship to the person who hurt or harmed them. Focus your involvement on bringing people together, fostering dialogue and mutual understanding, and restoring a sense of community togetherness, rather than deciding who is right or wrong.♦

[littlestarlightseverywhere]

This Love

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel would set the world on fire if it that’s what it took for his mate believe she deserves his love

Warnings: None

Notes: Hiii! This is my first ACOTAR fic on tumblr! Az is my man my man my mannnn and I just love thinking about him. Here’s a little something that came to mind when I was listening to “This Love” by Taylor Swift

Image Credit: “This Love” Taylor’s Version lyric video

Azriel sat hunched over in the plush velvet chair in Rhysand’s office. His elbows dug into his strong thighs as he clasped his hands together, focusing on the slow, mindless movement of his thumb over the ball of his knuckle.

“I think the Cauldron got it wrong.”

“Bullshit,” Cassian asserted eloquently.

“The Cauldron doesn’t simply ‘get things wrong’,” Rhysand said softly from where he leaned against the front of his desk, arms crossed contemplatively over his chest. Cassian, lounging in the chair across from Azriel, threw his hands in the air.

“It takes longer for some people than others, you know.”

“I knew far before Feyre did,” Rhysand supplemented.

“Anyone with eyes can tell how she feels about you. It’s beyond me you don’t see the way she looks at you, brother.”

Azriel was at a loss. Pining after the same woman for decades proved brutal on the heart. Downright treacherous, really, considering he felt the mating bond snap a long time ago and she had given almost no indication she felt anything of the like.

He knew she liked him in the way a person “likes” their best friend who knows them inside out, has been with them through every insignificant or life-altering moment, and embraces every part of them– even the messy bits. No, Azriel had no doubt in his mind that she loved him. She’d said as much multiple times, which left him feeling even more confused.

He didn’t want to push her for fear of ruining what they already had. Things were good, he’d even go so far as to say things were perfect between the two of them. He knew he wasn’t a knight in shining armor, the picture of good, and there were many things he’d done wrong to get to where he is today. Still, she was the one thing he did right. The best part about his life. Whether she knew it or not, it was his truth and he swore if it came down to it, he’d stand to do right by her before Prythian.

“She just has everything together. I don’t want to take up space in a life where she has everything figured out. We are in good places in each other's lives. I would hate to pressure her to change any of it for me.”

“You say that as if you'd be ruining her life,” Cassian’s anger simmered to a sadness. “She’d never think that.”

“And what about you?” Rhysand interjected. “You’re breaking your own heart waiting for her to feel the bond snap. Maybe you need to help her on.”

“I would never put her on the spot like that.”

“I wasn’t suggesting–”

“What if she’d rejected the bond somehow?” Azriel stood up, legs suddenly overcome with the sensation of a thousand little fire ants devouring his skin.

“Now you’re just making shit up.” Cassian huffed, returning to anger.

“How else can any of this be possible? How can she be so oblivious?”

“There is one way,” Rhys offered, suddenly solemn.

Azriel and Cassian looked to their brother expectantly. Azriel felt his heart hammer against his chest in anticipation. A reason was good. A reason was a start. A reason meant that there was a way out of this purgatory he found himself in.

“I read it in one of Amren’s books a long time ago,” Rhys locked eyes with Azriel. “When the mating bond has snapped into place for one of the fae in the pair and the other has absolutely no indication of it, usually it is a sign that they are not looking for a mating bond at all.”

“A lot of people don’t go looking for it,” Cassian reasoned. “I myself was more of the let-it-happen-when-it-will type.”

“Not looking for it in the sense that they don’t believe they deserve it. In the way that perhaps it's simply not meant for them.”

Silence fell over the three males. Azriel felt his heart shatter, pieces of it falling deep into his gut, turning it over and making him uneasy.

“If anyone doesn’t deserve this it’s me.” Azriel whispered.

“Don’t,” Cassian warned.

Rhys continued softly. “When they believe that, they inadvertently shield themselves from feeling anything… including a bond even if it does exist. A defense mechanism of sorts.”

The body protecting itself from heartbreak so painful that it registered it as a physical ailment. Azriel was going to be sick.

He couldn’t believe the love of his life felt that way. He wondered for how long she’d lived with such a belief, how long she’d been giving him her love while accepting none of his. He wanted to tear down the mountains around Velaris, move them, raise them, turn them to dust, anything he could manage to get her to believe him when he told her he loved her.

He barely felt he deserved her at all. It made him queasy with devotion and grief that she loved him enough to ever think she was the undeserving one.

Azriel was so far past worrying that she did not feel the mating bond anymore. All he cared about was making sure she knew she was loved by him in a way that brought him to his knees.

Her second favorite part of the year after Winter Solstice: Starfall.

Elaine spent most of the day in the kitchen with Nuala and Cerridwen. Mor, Feyre, Nesta sat on her bed, lounging on the expansive mattress before it was time to get ready for the party.

While everyone else had their dresses picked out, she was still between options.

“Okay, option one.” She stepped out from behind the dressing screen, twirling dramatically in a golden trumpet dress that shimmered like woven sunlight.

Mor howled and Nesta smirked in satisfaction.

She turned to look into the mirror and study her body. She felt her heart palpitate as her mind immediately dared to wonder what Azriel would think. Would he like it? She shook my head quickly to clear the thoughts. It didn’t matter what he thought anyway.

Feyre sat back, tilting her head with a look in her eyes she couldn’t quite place. “It’s not bad. I caught a glimpse of the other gown earlier…” The ends of her mouth curled upwards.

The second dress was her personal favorite too. A silk, dark navy sheath that hung from her curves elegantly. It shimmered of silver and lavender under the light like the stars had been gathered from the sky and threaded into the material, one by one.

“Yes.” All three chanted at the same time as soon as she walked out again, clad in the dress that looked like it had been made only for her. There was no room for theatrics as her best friends gazed approvingly.

She did not need to look in the mirror to know this is the dress she wanted to wear. After all, she loved the color blue.

The rest of the girls got ready before she did. She went back and forth on hairstyles and makeup multiple times. Nuala and Cerridwen were more than patient, as were her friends who all waited downstairs for her before they’d leave for the House of Wind together.

“This is as good as it will get, I suppose,” She looked in the mirror one final time before descending the stairs that led to the living room below.

As soon as she neared the middle of the stairs, a shadow slipped around her ankle and up her bare arm, sending goosebumps in its wake. It slipped back down her arms gently, like a lover’s admiring touch, and down the stairs again.

Azriel was the first to turn. His senses were always tuned to her without his knowledge or deliberate effort. Her presence was like a beacon in his darkness. A lighthouse to his boat on treacherous waters. He could sense her in a crowded room in a heartbeat just by the way his heart would pound and his skin would warm.

Their eyes locked and he felt a pull in his chest. Almost with a start, he realized it wasn’t even the mating bond, though it also hummed within him. Even despite the mating bond, tender yearning filled his chest at the sight of her standing at the bottom of the stairs now. Pure love. The Cauldron blessed him this one time, perhaps the only time it ever would, giving him the mate it did. Yet he knew, especially in that moment as he drank in the sight of her glowing skin, shy smile, and deep eyes, he would love her even if they were not bound together in this way. He knew he’d choose her over and over and over again. He’d give anything to have her look at him the way she was right now, forever.

Still, Azriel’s heart wrenched as he recalled why she couldn’t feel the mating bond– this thing that crooned and moaned, twisted and sung, wrenched and wrested to be felt by the only other person in the world who it belonged to, not understanding why it hit a wall everytime it tried to reach out to its other half. His other half.

Something like pride came over Azriel as he noticed everyone else stop and stare. Their friends welcomed her with hugs and kisses and compliments and he watched her be loved and by all of their friends. He wanted to say something as their eyes met again. What would he say first? Azriel had a waterfall of words teetering at the tip of his tongue, flowing straight from the pits of his heart, but supposed telling her she was beautiful was a good start.

But before he could say anything, Mor gathered her and Elaine into her arms before winnowing them to the House. Feyre, Nesta, and Amren followed them a second later.

Cassian clapped Azriel on the shoulder, a rare, soft smile on his lips. “Don’t waste another day, brother.”

With Varian uncomfortably nestled in Cassian arms, they were off to the House too.

The celebration was grand as usual. Food and drink flowed from every corner of the room and everyone danced without a second to rest.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She danced with her friends for the longest time; Mor swirled her around the room and Nesta challenged her to keep up.

He stayed within the chattering crowd that boxed in the dance floor, sipping mulled wine and adjusting a fine thread on his jacket every now and again.

She excused herself from Nesta’s ceaseless dancing for some air. Her face was flushed, body warm, but she was happy. Once she reached the doors to the balcony and closed them behind her, she reveled in the immediate silence that followed.

The night air was cool on her flushed skin, the wind a caressing and most welcome touch.

A few minutes later, she heard the balcony door open behind her. Of course she didn’t need to turn around to see who it was. It was the only person that would follow her anywhere, no questions asked.

“Are you quite parched, yet?”

She turned around to find Azriel standing there, tall, broad, and beautiful, with two glasses of mulled wine.

“Quite.” She affirmed with a smile. He walked toward her until they were elbow to elbow, as close as he dared, before handing her the glass. She proposed they toasted to the spirits, who would begin their migration soon, for a safe journey. He obliged.

They sipped their wine in a comfortable silence. Any minute now the show would begin and everyone would move to the main balcony to watch and continue their dancing. This smaller balcony was perfect for just the two of them.

“You look beautiful tonight.” Azriel said as he did not bother to observe the first few stars that crossed the sky in glittery streaks of silver and gold. Next to her, everything else paled in comparison.

Her heart trembled at the compliment. It wasn’t the first compliment he’d given her, far from it, but coming from him they always meant so much.

With the wine in her system, accompanied with whatever was in Cassian’s flask when it was offered to her an hour ago, she said. “I wore this dress for you.”

The choice of color was not lost on him. The next few stars that soared across the sky caused his inky blue siphons to glisten in their glittery light. A perfect match to her silk.

“It suits you.” Azriel hated that his heart was hammering like this. He felt the love in his chest hum like a magnet, the bond snap like a rubber band against his lungs, stealing their air.

She didn’t say anything, only turned to look at him and he did not back away from her eye contact. Only returned it with such intensity that they now spoke with their eyes, a conversation that could never be expressed with mere words, an exchange between soulmates that remained only between them, not even the sky and stars privy to those thoughts.

Before his mind could refuse or reason with him, he closed the gap between the two of them, taking her elbow in his large hands. She allowed him to guide her to his strong body, eager to follow his lead.

His hands dropped to her waist, a respectable distance above her hips, though she would be pleased if he dared to go lower.

“I think about you all the time.” He spoke softly as he drew her as close as she could get. Their bodies were touching, and she was sure he could feel her heart hammering like a bird trying to take flight in a locked cage.

“You don’t,” She whispered as the stars began to rain across the sky in glimmering streams of light. Her mind screamed at her to pull away, to stop before she made a fool of herself. But her body forced her to stay put, to soak in his warmth, the feeling of him against her, to allow herself to indulge in this.

“I do.” His voice was strong, tone resolute. He held her gaze. “I would never lie. Not to you. You are the one thing in my life I would spend the rest of my immortality living for. You’ve captivated me since the moment I met you and if it takes the rest of my life to prove it, I would gladly call it my life’s work. I can’t keep this from you any longer. If that makes me selfish…”

She reached her hand out to cup his jaw. He leaned into it immediately. Her touch was soft against his face and he thought about how nice it would be to stay like this forever.

Starfall was in full effect. Music and laughter from the other balcony was but a distant, muffled, chorus to him and he watched the shine of the raining stars reflect off of her eyes and skin. Like a work of art, he observed. My mate, my mate, my mate, his insides thrummed.

He couldn’t take it any longer. He understood the look in her eyes, the silent permission, the mutual yearning. In an act of mercy, blessing, and loss of control, he slanted his lips over hers, dropping his hands lower on her waist, shifting one to her lower back to support how flush to his body he held her.

She wrapped his arms around his neck, damning the voices in her head telling her none of this was real, that he’d regret it and take it all back in the morning. Deep down she knew even if other men would, Azriel would never. She gave into him, leaned into him, let him in everywhere he demanded it.

She didn’t think about how long she spent in his arms, connected to him like this. Her breath hitched as he felt her squeeze her waist and use the hand that was at the small of her back to travel upward caressingly, taking his time to feel her skin, the dips and planes of her body through the silk, to rest at the back of her neck.

Azriel was so wholly in love he didn’t even have to think about his next move or any kind of thought. Being with her was natural, like second nature.

She pulled away just long enough to breathe, caressing his swollen bottom lip with her thumb as she moved to hold his jaw. He smiled drunkenly at her, watching as she blushed and indulged herself in the feel of his face.

As the stars rained over Velaris in glittering dashes across the perfect canvas of the night sky, she stood with Azriel, holding him as he held her, suddenly keenly aware of what it felt like to be loved by him.

Azriel’s eyes softened in realization, relief, as he felt the hum of the bond break through his chest for the first time in decades. It extended outward freely, like a bird let loose, soaring like the stars in the sky to meet its other half.

She gasped softly as she felt a snap in her chest. A snap that realigned worlds, parted clouds, mended something broken, that marked a shift in time.

She understood.

“Az…” she whispered, almost wanting to not believe it.

He nodded, letting her feel his touch as she worked through the new emotions.

“How long have you known?” She brought her arms down from his neck to hold his hands. His bigger palms enveloped hers easily, warm and strong. Sure.

“Decades.” He shook his head slightly as if it was common sense he’d been in love with her for so long, refusing to break eye contact with her.

“And all this time… you waited? You never– I never thought…”

“I can’t think of anything else I’d want to spend my entire life loving.” He swept a lock of her hair behind her ear to see her better. To remind himself this wasn’t a dream, not this time.

She allowed Azriel to pull her in again, savoring the way his lips tasted, how soft they felt, the way he held her like she’d vanish if he even lifted a finger. It was a grasp that made her want for nothing anymore. Everything she wanted was right here.

“It seems,” she breathed, slightly out of breath after they pulled away again. “I’ve kept you waiting for quite some time.”

“I’d wait any amount of time for you.” He murmured, running his thumb back and forth over the nape of her neck. “I’d do anything.”

[achillean-heartbeat]

Hey friend!!! Can you recommend any good fics for Teen Wolf?

I'm about to start watching it this weekend, and kinda want to supplement it with the fics..

Thank you in advance

HELLO TO YOUUU!!

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME!!! i would absolutely fucking LOOVEEE TOOO!!!

First of all, thank you so much for this ask. Can't believe you just gave me a reason to recommend some of my fave teen wolf fics.

second of all, IT'S AWESOME THAT YOU'RE GONNA WATCH IT!!! It is a shitshow of a show (hah) BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYY!!<<<<33333

third, a little disclaimer, i mostly read sterek (stiles x derek) and thiam (theo x liam), so this list is going to be mostly them. However, i do read any and all ships as long as its fun and i like the tropes of the fic. So when you start watching it and there is a particular ship you liked that is not mentioned in this list i would love to rec u more stuff!!!<<33

fourth, i will also be putting at the end a list of fics i plan to read soon and have not read yet, cuz why not.

fifth and finally, i'm pretty sure i don't have to say this but i just thought i'd give you a heads up just in case: in some of these fics there are certain triggers, certain kinks, so please make sure not to miss any surprise tags, especially 01001in the short fics.

OKAAYYY NOW THAT THAT'S SETTLED HERE WE GOOO!

SOME FICS I HAVE READ AND LOVED:

LONG FICS: (>50k)

THIAM: Airplanes by Captinmintyfresh (236k) what still grows in darkness by eneiryu (137k) To be Led by a Liar GoldFox99 (79k) Tethered by Tonytones(85k)

STEREK: Put Down in Words by paintedrecs (200K) Windows by dr_girlfriend (83k) Foxgloves by formeldehyde (71k) To The End by formeldehyde (181k) Strange Turns That Bring Us Closer demonicfairie2009 (100k) Sex Therapy by Asterekmess (51k)

SHORT FICS: (<50k)

THIAM: i loathe you i love you by tonytones (30k) here in the twilight it's all hearsay by eneiryu (2k) Craving Every Part of Your Raw, Wild Soul by ksbbb (29k) you can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth by pansexual-puppy-pack (1k) i think i left my conscience on your front door step pansexual-puppy-pack (8k)

STEREK: we are tangled by drunktuesdays (5k) Lock All The Doors Behind You by entanglednow (25k) I don't know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunasCanisLupus_22 (17k)

Choice by Omni (8k) Last Lovesong of a Dying Lemon by wldnst (10k) Romance In Progress by Asterekmess (32k) here is the deepest secret nobody knows by owlpostagain (22k) How To Be a Normal Person by drunktuesdays (8k) Five Days of Dickings by mklutz (17k) I Wanna Take Down The Walls With You by drunktuesdays (10k) bigger, longer and uncut by drunktuesdays (4k)

BONUS: Theo/Josh/Corey/Tracy/Hayden we ain't ever getting older (6k)

FICS I HAVE NOT READ YET THAT ARE IMPATIENTLY CALLING OUT FOR ME FROM MY ENDLESS OPEN TABS:

LONG FICS: (>50K)

THIAM: "Where no Hope is Left, is Left no Fear" ( No mere Human can Stand in a Fire and not be Consumed) by ksbbb (71K) Take my heart (and put it somewhere safe) by not_carrying_on (172k) Consequences of Our Past by xTarmanderx (70k) All About Control Universe by EquallyLoyalAndLethal (152k) Handle With Care by Attempted Eloquence (190k)

STEREK: Predators by Hedwig221b (74k) Words Cannot Espresso How Much You Bean to Me by isthatbloodonhisshirt (68k) Not So Boring by beerwolves and isthatbloodonhisshirt (69k) yes chef seaweedwater (228k) You're stronger than you know by littleredridinghunter (234k) Getting Better by thebadassisin (205k) A New Perspective by Asterekmess (323k) The Moon's Gonna Follow Me Home by turningterrific (82k) Home by thetypewritergirl (167k)

SHORT FICS: (<50K)

THIAM: I Love You as Certain Dark Things are To Be Loved, in Secret.” by ksbbb (46K) Sweet talkings by captainmintyfresh (28k) i'm not ready to die yet, should i pray? (i'm wasting time, haunted by the ghost of you) by petitommo (6k) when oblivion is calling out your name, you always take it further than i ever can by likelightninginabottle (8k) you're my head, you're my heart Or: The Shameless Thiam 'verse by likelightninginabottle (20k) loving you's a bloodsport by THENINTH09 (21k) a thing with sellable skin by Attempted Eloquence (22k) a shot in the heart (doesn't make it unbreak) (4k) it gets so hard to breathe when i think of you (thinking of me) by wingsoutforshin (5k) Too Afraid to Follow Through by dangerouscoffeetheorist (14k) i know about things i wish I didn't - the not yet a corpse series by yikeshereiam (29k) Absence makes the heart grow fonder by laheysmythes (11k)

get him back! by marymacgf (21k)

STEREK: Together, Apart by justanotherbusyfangirl (14k) Spellbinding Mishap by isthatbloodonhisshirt (45k) Untouchable by Hedwig221b (17k) the feral wind that lit him ablaze by quackquackcey (37k) Which Con at Witch Con? by quackquackcey (10k) Stilinski's Speakeasy by sinna_bon (10k) the way our horizons meet by dumpac (3k) Even Greenberg has a Soulmate by beerwolves and deancebra (22k) red hoodies and bronze daggers (the secrets you keep glow in the dark) by patolemus (19k) Ground Me With Your Touch by asterekmess (7k) Let Me Take My Time With You by asterekmess (6k) Whispered in the Sound of Silence by dr_girlfriend (7k) always the sidekick by mirrorkill (49k)

BONUS: Stiles x Theo: Partners in Crime by snaeken (2k)

Okay i'm done!

oof sorry for the long ass post!

i'm not gonna lie, the story and writing is kinda wonky in some places, but the characters are so loveable it's impossible not to find them endearing in some way or another.

but no matter the outcome, i hope you enjoy it and have a great time!!

i hope you have an amazing day!!

[animentality]

listen i will not begrudge durgetashers who like gortash walking the dark urge around with a leash and collar.

but the canon truth was, gortash is a cat guy who absolutely adores that weird feral feline that keeps wandering in and out of his house. he takes a million photos, it's all he can talk about with his friends, and he dotes on the wild creature with the obsession of a true cat mom.

even as it pretends to ignore him, but conveniently keeps somehow winding up back in his kitchen, bringing in dead mice and birds to supplement the cat food and milk gortash leaves out every day. he just giggles whenever it "happens" to be in the same room as him, and he stares at it perpetually, draws it from every angle, keeps a diary of its activities.

also maybe it's tried to claw his eyes out every single time he's tried to pet it, and all he does is smile and say feisty little thing, aren't you, sweetie? :3

and then one day, it stops coming.

and he is inconsolable.

he cries because he knows something has happened out there, in the big, wide, terrible world, and he'll never know what, but he'll never see his most beloved friend walk through his door ever again.

anyway.

tl;dr - gortash is a cat guy.

[robertreich]

Five Biggest Border Lies Debunked 

Republicans are lying about immigrants and the border. Here are five of their biggest doozies.

1. They claim Biden doesn’t want to secure the border

Well, that’s rubbish. Biden has consistently asked for additional funding for border security.

Republicans have just as consistently refused. They’re voting to cut Customs and Border Protection funding in spending bills and blocking passage of Biden’s $106 billion national security supplemental that includes border funding.

2. They blame the drug crisis on immigration

That’s more rubbish. While large amounts of fentanyl and other deadly drugs have been flowing into the U.S. from Mexico, 90% arrives through official ports of entry, not via immigrants illegally crossing the border. In fact, research by the Cato Institute found that more than 86% of the people convicted of trafficking fentanyl in 2021 were U.S. citizens.

3. They claim that undocumented immigrants are terrorists.

Baloney. For almost a half century, no American has been killed or injured in a terrorist attack in the United States that involved someone who crossed the border illegally.

4. They say immigrants are stealing American jobs.

Nonsense. Evidence shows immigrants are not taking jobs that American workers want. And the surge across the border is not increasing unemployment. Far from it: unemployment has been below 4% for roughly two years.

5. They blame crime on immigrants

More baloney. This has been debunked by numerous studies over the years. In fact, a 2020 study found that undocumented immigrants have "substantially" lower crime rates than native-born citizens and legal immigrants.

Notwithstanding the recent migrant surge, America’s homicide rate has fallen nearly 13% since 2022 — the largest decrease on record. Local law enforcement agencies are also reporting drops in violent crime.

Who’s really behind these lies?

Since he entered politics, Donald Trump has fanned nativist fears and bigotry.

Now leaning into full neo-fascism and using the actual language of Hitler to attack immigrants.

Trump wants us to forget that almost all of us are the descendants of immigrants who fled persecution, or were brought to America under duress, or simply sought better lives for themselves and their descendants.

Know the truth and spread it.

[edoro]

i don't blame anyone for not knowing that Thistle was Literally Trafficked and that Freinag's advisors bought him and presented him as a gift because Freinag threw a baby tantrum because he wanted an elven servant as a living conversation piece, and that from the very beginning Thistle's purpose in the Melini court was "cute exotic pet for Freinag to show off"

because it's all in supplemental material. because the only person in the comic who knows this for sure is Thistle.

we can't completely assume that what Yaad tells Laios and co is 100% of what he's been told by Delgal, and that he isn't leaving things out or massaging the story into a convenient shape to position Thistle as an antagonist who must be stopped, because he's certainly canny enough to do that

but i think we can pretty comfortably imagine that it could be everything Yaad knows, and that if it's not, it's still probably pretty close to the story Delgal has told him. and it's fairly clear that Delgal has presented things in a certain light, characterized Thistle in a certain way, and from there we have to wonder: how much of that is on purpose?

certainly some of it is, because Delgal is very avoidant and the actual truth of the matter is that he shares a significant portion of the blame here, but all of it? i could very easily see Delgal not knowing that his father bought and owns Thistle. from his perspective, Thistle's just been there since before he was born and was a constant and loving companion - and confidante and caretaker - throughout his life.

so if Delgal doesn't know, then how could Yaad? and how could anyone else know if Thistle isn't going to tell them, and why would he?

the comic about how Thistle came to court and the elf cake comic are, i think, two of the most crucial pieces to understanding Thistle, because when you take them together, what you get is:

Thistle was abandoned at birth. between his birth and when Freinag's advisors bought him, someone raised him, fed him, clothed him, taught him to speak, and taught him how to play a couple of instruments well enough that he could entertain a king. whoever did that then - after twenty-odd years of being the closest thing he had to a family following the separation from his birth parent, something which he wouldn't be able to consciously remember but which would nonetheless have left him with a visceral and entirely subconscious belief that He Can Be Abandoned At Any Time And If That Happens He Will Die, because that's what happens to babies that are left alone - sold him.

so by the time he was the human equivalent of 5 or 6, he'd been taught that nothing is permanent, no one loves him enough to keep him, he will be abandoned, and that ultimately he is both a commodity and a curiosity, and any hope of having a home or being cared for depends on pleasing whoever owns him.

to make matters worse, Freinag didn't even like him at first. he scowled and sulked and the advisors, over Thistle's head, told Freinag that they needed to make sure he was harmless, that he was a perfectly impressive status symbol, and to just make sure he didn't get too attached. and Freinag proceeded to sulk for at least a couple of days (two different outfits on Thistle) before deciding he liked him.

Thistle didn't even have a name when he was bought. what did he spend the last 20-odd years of his life being called? how long did it take for Freinag to warm up enough to give him the cat-you-found-in-a-dumpster-ass name he ended up giving him?

no fucking wonder he latched onto the Melinis as hard as he did. no wonder he was so obsessively devoted to Delgal, the closest thing he had to a friend or someone who treated him as an equal. he was abandoned, bought and sold as a status symbol, told quite explicitly that he would only be tolerated as long as he was harmless and entertaining, and loved like a pet until Freinag had a real son.

no wonder he was so eager to prove himself. no wonder he would have done anything Delgal said. no wonder that he rewrote reality itself to try to keep Delgal safe and happy. no wonder he's so scared all the time - he has to have been scared his whole life, desperate to belong and horribly aware of just how easily he could be discarded, starving for love to fill the gaping primal wound in him from the kind of abandonment he experienced.

no wonder his idea of love is to keep people smothered and trapped, like birds in a cage. that's the only kind of love anyone ever showed him.

[hihello-pinky]

Sight (5)

Suna Rintarou X F! Reader

Sometimes, it takes losing someone to finally see them. He wished he knew this before, but Rintaro had to learn this the hard way.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and in no way represents my views of the original anime/manga characters.

WARNINGS: nothing, just fluff, and OH, did not go through proofreading lols

Word Count: 1.6k

Surprise quick update! I know I said in the last part that things are about to get downhill starting from this chapter. However, I really enjoyed writing this one that I had to cut out the angst portion. So... this is also quite a short read. Happy reading, though!

Kindly reblog, like, and/or leave a comment if you loved this chapter and let me know what you think! xoxo

part one part two part three part four

kofi ~~

˚✧₊⁎⁎⁺˳✧༚ - - - ˚✧₊⁎⁎⁺˳✧༚

“I’m very happy, Y/N,” Dr. Hirai says in front of you as she examines the papers. “These results look good. You haven’t been stressed much lately?”

You beam at the woman. “I guess so. My headaches have rarely occurred as well.”

”Great.” She smiles as she picks up her pen and starts to write. “I’m going to prescribe you some vitamins and supplements. But remember, rest and sleep is top priority, okay?”

You respond with a nod, akin to a child receiving instructions from their parent on the first day of school.

As you wait for Dr. Hirai to finish writing the prescription, a knock comes on the door. After the doctor’s “Come in”, your husband’s head peeks inside.

”Hi, Doc.” He greets before looking at you. “Hey. Something came up at the company and I have to go there. Would you want to wait for me at the cafe across the street?”

Other times you would have felt disappointed about his need to leave, but the mere fact that he’s informing you - through a cute peek at the door nonetheless - makes your heart flutter instead.

“Okay, sure.”

Rin shoots you a smile that almost melts your heart. “Great. I’ll keep you posted.”

And just like that, the door closes again. You turn to Dr. Hirai to see her looking at you. “Anything’s the matter, Doc?”

The woman just smiles before handing you the prescription. “Oh, nothing, Y/N. Nothing.”

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

You watch the busy street through the window, your hand tapping a pen against your journal. You’re not one to miss writing daily but these past several weeks, you have been too preoccupied to jot down your thoughts.

Then, there’s also the matter of an irrational fear.

Truth be told, you’ve been happy since that night Rintarou admitted his attraction to you; the night he asked you to give him a chance and for you two to get to know each other.

You’d love to pen down those memories but there’s a voice at the back of your head telling you that it’s a bad idea. That it’s a prelude to something terrible happening.

You place your pen on the table and flip through the older entries on your journal, only to remember the entries you are looking for are no longer in the notebook’s binder. You had them removed and placed in a box the day before you asked Rin for divorce, thinking that it's time to give up on trying to make things work for both of you.

But then, things have changed now.

Or have they really changed? That voice in your head asks in skepticism.

What if, just like before, this “peace” is a fluke? What if Rin ends up hurting you again?

You close your eyes tightly and rub at your temples. You shouldn’t be entertaining this kind of thoughts. Overthinking and worrying about things from five years ago…

”Hey, Y/N? Is that you?” A familiar voice brings you out of your thoughts and you open your eyes only to be met by a friendly smile.

”Oh,” you say in pleasant surprise, “Hi, Hajime. What an unexpected meeting.”

The older guy's smile widens as he gestures for the seat across you. You nod in reply, closing your journal and putting it at the side.

”What brings you here?”

”I had a check-up with my doctor at the hospital across the street. How about you?”

At your question, Hajime scratches his nape. You notice his ears redden and you try not to smile at how boyishly embarrassed he looks. “Um, I’m visiting someone.”

”A friend?”

He locks eyes with you and groans at the teasing look that you know is visible on your face. “Okay, okay. She’s not technically a friend. I… met her one night through an accident, my motorcycle bumped into her. Thankfully, her injuries are not serious.”

”Oh my god,” you cover your mouth in reflex. You compose yourself before continuing, “I’m assuming she’s okay, though?”

Hajime waves his hand in front of you. “No worries! She’s fine and getting better. In fact, she’s about to get discharged tomorrow.” He suddenly clicks his tongue. “Am I bad to feel sad about her being discharged? I won’t have a reason to see her anymore.”

This time, you’re not able to stop yourself from laughing. “Hajime, that’s silly! Why won’t you just ask her out? Or her family and friends, maybe? You probably have met some of them, right?”

He smiles sheepishly and it’s a contrast to his usual demeanor when in the playground with his son. “I’m nervous to ask. Also, her family’s not here. She very recently moved back to the country from living abroad several years before. She also mentioned she has yet to reconnect with any of her old friends.”

”Oh, I see. But isn’t that reason enough to ask her out, if you’re really interested in her?”

”I guess so…”

Seeing the flush on your friend’s face makes you smile. “Who would have thought you’d get yourself in a classic meet-cute scenario?”

”Ugh, Y/N, please stop teasing me.” You know he means to reprimand, but Hajime still joins you in your laughter.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

“Fuck.” Suna resists the urge to throw his phone after the screen died on him. The battery had been on the verge of dying and he couldn’t find his charger anywhere. So, he’s on the way to the cafe, hoping that you didn’t decide to go somewhere else.

As he approaches the entrance, it amazes him how he’s quick to spot you in a crowd now. He sees the baby pink dress you’re wearing, your cardigan looking soft and comfortable over it. He also notes that you had tied your hair into a bun, a few strands framing your face.

And then he notices you’re not alone. To his dismay, he recognizes the person you’re currently with. Before he knows it, Suna is already brisk-walking the short distance from the entrance to your table.

You notice his presence as you look up at him and smile. That very sweet and innocent smile instantly calms him down a notch. He takes a deep breath. “Hey. I wasn’t able to send you a message, my phone died on me.”

”That’s okay.” Then, gesturing to your companion, you ask, “Rin, you remember Hajime?”

Suna tries to sound as nonchalant as possible as he faces the man. “Yeah. What brings you here?”

Hajime gives him what he assumes to be a friendly smile and Suna reminds himself that there’s no acceptable reason why he should give in to the urge to punch the smile out of the man’s face. “I was gonna visit someone at the hospital.”

Before Suna can respond, the man quickly checks his watch as if suddenly remembering and curses under his breath. “Oh, shoot. Uh, I should go.” He gives a wave before going over to the counter to make his purchase.

Suna shakes his head, a small scoff leaving his mouth. “Rin,” you call his attention. “Let’s go?” He watches you zip your bag close and before you can put the strap on your shoulder, he swiftly grabs to carry it for you.

If he didn’t turn his back as soon as he does so, he wouldn’t have missed your blush and smile.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

Once you reach Rintarou’s car, he asks if you have your phone charger with you. As you say yes, he asks again if you would plug it in the car’s charging port as he maneuvers the car out of parking.

You do as he asks and, as you place his phone on the console, notice some things that spark your concern.

”Rin?”

”Yeah?” He responds, eyes ahead.

”I know we both have sweet tooth, but didn’t we agree not to give Risa and Ryuu too much candy?”

”Huh?”

”Lollipops and gums,” you answer, finally tearing your eyes away from the items that had caught your attention. You turn to Rin and watch as the confusion leaves his face.

To your surprise, he only chuckles in response. “Those aren’t for the kids, Y/N. They’re mine.”

Now, it’s your turn to feel lost. “Huh?”

Rintarou bites his lips. “I’m trying to quit smoking. I heard those are nice alternatives.”

”Oh.” You’re at a loss of words for a moment, remembering the many times you have told him in the past that smoking is bad for the health. As you struggle to find what to say, Rin continues.

”It’s gonna take a while though. To be honest, this isn’t the first time I’m trying and it’s really hard.” A small laugh. “I’ve been smoking even before I was legally allowed to. But god, I do hope I can finally quit this time.” He shoots you a quick smile. “I don’t want my wife to leave me because of nicotine problems.”

And just like that, whatever response you’ve been able to come up with in your mind gets forgotten, chased away by the butterflies in your stomach.

Rintarou has been doing this a lot lately: calling you his wife.

Of course he had done so in the past, but they were all said in mockery, with the intent to spite and hurt you. It’s the very opposite now. He knows he makes you flustered and you know he enjoys seeing you blush.

You turn your head to look out the window, hoping he can’t see your very red face. Behind you, he laughs a little. It does not help in calming the beating of your heart. “What’s the matter, Y/N?”

”Shut up, Rin!"

to be continued.

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[vintagerpg]

Dracula Dossier is a campaign for the Gumshoe-powered RPG Night’s Black Agents, and I can confidently say it’s one of the biggest, most ambitious RPG campaigns ever conceived.

This is the Director’s Handbook (2015), which sits at the center of a shelf of books that make up the campaign. In addition to the rulebook, there’s a modified version of Bram Stoker’s novel, an agent field guide and a book of supplemental scenarios. The conceit here is that the events of the novel are real, sort of. It’s a cover story written to obscure the true events, which were part of a larger intelligence operation against Dracula and his network. Dracula didn’t stay dead and has popped up a couple times since. The modified novel was in the possession of agents who opposed the Count each of these times, and contains annotations in many hands collecting new information and theories.

Here’s the brilliant part. The campaign starts by giving the players the annotated book. The structure of the game builds off their default knowledge of Dracula in all his pop cultural forms. As they chase down the leads in the annotations, they determine the truth of the campaign’s core conspiracy and all of Dracula’s secrets. The GM reacts to their sleuthing, improvising the results based on the dizzying resources in the Director’s Handbook. From there, the campaign is as big or as small as everyone at the table wants it to be.

It’s one of the most interesting RPG books I’ve ever read. It exists as a sort of codex of parallel universes, codifying just about every possible option players might choose, and takes them to their logical conclusions. Some of the early chapter titles give a sense of the overall construction: “Do Vampires Work the Way Van Helsing Thought They Did?” and “Is Jack the Ripper Involved Somehow?” Those two alone open up mind-boggling possible paths, and there are still 200+ pages to go. It’s a beauty, but I’d want to play it rather than run it, for sure.

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— said “i’m fine” but it wasn’t the truth ; when people said when we’re mad and frustrated we can just break stuff, punch walls, smash chairs, or destroy whatever. but why do we always end up just staying quiet and decided destroying our mental health instead?

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

Winter classes were supposed to be a chance to get ahead, but instead, they felt like a relentless race you were barely managing to keep up with. The class wasn’t crowded, maybe a dozen students, but each one of them seemed like a walking encyclopedia, filled with confidence and an unwavering hunger for knowledge. They’d arrive at class an hour early, occupying the front rows with books spread out in front of them, and their hands perpetually raised, ready to challenge or add to whatever the professor was saying. It made you feel small, like you hadn’t studied enough, like you didn’t belong.

Each night, you’d prepare as much as you could for the next day’s lecture, even though your heart wasn’t entirely in it. Your mind wandered constantly—flitting between how much you just wanted to curl up in your dorm bed with a warm blanket, and how the pressure to perform was slowly grinding you down. Your mom’s incessant texts about what you should eat, reminding you to take your vitamins and ginseng tonic, felt like a constant pressure to maintain an unrealistic level of perfection.

You tried to get some rest, but your brain wouldn’t turn off. Sleep was the only escape, and yet, even when you did sleep, it wasn’t restful. Every time you stirred, you’d hear the familiar blare of your alarm reminding you to take another supplement, or the ping of your phone with another message from your mom telling you that your meal delivery was arriving soon. It all became so routine that you found yourself on autopilot—studying, sleeping, eating whatever your mom sent, and wondering if it was all worth it.

Sometimes, the thought of skipping class altogether seemed tempting. Why couldn’t you just enjoy your break like other students? The thought of cozying up in your room, watching movies, and getting some real rest before the next semester felt like a distant dream. But deep down, you knew you couldn’t let yourself fall behind. Not with the way things were going.

It was during one of these dreary cycles—struggling through the monotony of your winter class—that you ran into Yamaguchi. He had just returned from a winter volleyball camp in Okinawa, looking worn out but content, with a large backpack slung over his shoulder as he entered the dormitory. You had just received another food delivery from your mom and were balancing the boxes awkwardly in your arms when you saw him.

“Back from camp?” you asked, trying to sound casual even though you felt a wave of envy wash over you. He had been training in the sun, while you had been holed up in your dorm, trapped between study sessions and forced naps.

Yamaguchi flashed you a tired smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, just got back. Okinawa was nice, but the camp was brutal.”

“I bet,” you replied. “Must be exhausting.”

“It is,” he agreed. “But, hey, there’s a game coming up this weekend. A lot of students will be there—it’s kind of a big deal. You should come. You could use a break.”

You hesitated, balancing the food boxes in your arms. You weren’t sure you could afford to take a break, but the idea of escaping the monotony—even just for an afternoon—was enticing.

“Yeah, maybe I will,” you said. “I could use a distraction.”

Yamaguchi grinned. “Great! You won’t regret it.” and then he disappeared heading to his own room.

You find yourself sitting in your room, staring at the clock as it ticks toward the start of your winter class. Normally, you would have packed up your things by now, grabbing your notebook and meticulously prepared materials, ready to attend. But today, the heavy feeling in your chest has been particularly suffocating. Your classmates—so driven, so sure of themselves—are already filing into the classroom, likely throwing questions at the professor before the lecture even begins. Meanwhile, you sit paralyzed with dread, the thought of being surrounded by such ambition making you want to curl up under your blankets and disappear.

Lately, you’ve been thinking about skipping class more often than you care to admit. The demands of the course have been relentless. It’s winter break, and yet here you are, working yourself into exhaustion while others seem to thrive in the chaos. Your mind drifts to how good it would feel to stay in bed, tucked into the warmth of your comforter, resting and doing nothing. It’s hard not to resent how your days are filled with either studying or sleeping, with alarms going off to remind you to take your vitamins or respond to your mom’s texts about food deliveries she insists on managing.

But then, Yamaguchi’s invitation to his game pops back into your mind. Skipping class seemed like an impossible risk. But the more you thought about it, the more you realized how desperately you needed a break from the monotony.

Now, you stand at a crossroads: attend another draining class or take a chance and watch the game. You swallow hard, your nerves bubbling up as you reach for your phone. Quickly, you tap into your settings and turn off your location. Your mom would kill you if she found out you were ditching class.

You can already imagine her voice, stern and disappointed, demanding to know why you weren’t where you were supposed to be. The thought sends a jolt of panic through you, but the excitement of going to Yamaguchi’s game is just strong enough to overpower it. You toss your phone into your bag, slip on your coat, and head out the door before you can second-guess yourself.

When you arrive at the gymnasium, the noise hits you first—a vibrant, buzzing energy that feels almost overwhelming after the quiet of your dorm room. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself, heart racing as you navigate through the crowd of students. Everyone seems to be moving in the same direction, excited and chattering about the game ahead.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. It’s Yamaguchi. He’s texted you the seat location: front-row, right near the stands where the volleyball team would be sitting.

That realization makes your stomach flip. You had thought you’d be watching from a distance, blending in with the rest of the crowd, but now…you’d be sitting right where they could see you. And more importantly, where Tsukishima could see you.

The thought of being so close to him, to them, makes you nervous all over again. What if they think you’re a total fraud for skipping class just to be here? What if your classmates see you and realize you’ve abandoned your studies for a game? And worst of all—what if your mom somehow finds out?

You push those worries aside and head toward the front of the gym. You can feel the heat of the stadium lights on your face as you scan for the empty seat Yamaguchi had promised. Your stomach twists when you see it—a perfect spot, right next to where the players are already gathering.

You take a deep breath and sit down, trying to calm your racing heart. Yamaguchi waves at you from the court, his usual friendly smile plastered across his face. You wave back awkwardly, feeling a little out of place but also secretly excited. You can’t remember the last time you did something spontaneous like this, and as the game is about to start, you can feel the excitement building in the air around you. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

The gym grows louder, students chanting and clapping, their energy infectious. As the game progresses, you find yourself fully immersed in it. The players move across the court with a fluidity and grace that you can’t help but admire, and every time Yamaguchi’s name is called, you cheer louder than you expected.

But every time your eyes wander across the court, they keep finding him—Tsukishima. You don’t even mean to look at him, but it feels impossible not to. He’s just there, always in the corner of your vision, his sharp focus making him seem untouchable. His tall figure commands attention, the way he’s so utterly concentrated on the game almost mesmerizing.

At one point, during a timeout, you catch him glancing toward the stands—toward you. For a split second, your eyes meet, and your heart skips a beat. It’s so brief, you’re not sure if it even really happened. Maybe you’re just imagining things, but the feeling stays with you.

You try to shake it off and return your focus to the game, but it’s hard to keep your eyes from drifting back to him. You find yourself watching his movements, the way he adjusts his glasses with a flick of his hand, the focused way his brows knit together when he’s strategizing. There’s something magnetic about him—something that makes your heart flutter despite your attempts to stay calm.

Then, when the game is heating up, he calls out to his teammates, his voice firm and commanding. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You quickly exhale, shaking your head at yourself. It’s just Tsukishima. You’ve been around him before, so why is he making you so nervous now?

As the game continues, your eyes keep darting to him—almost unconsciously—as if you’re searching for some sort of acknowledgment. And when his team makes a crucial block, you can’t help but cheer for him too. You clap along with the crowd, but the butterflies in your stomach are there for an entirely different reason.

As the game nears its end and the score tightens, the tension in the gym grows. You grip the edge of your seat, your focus divided between the game and Tsukishima, who’s still laser-focused on the court. Every now and then, he glances at the stands again, and though he never lets his gaze linger on you for long, each fleeting look sends your heart racing.

And then, in one final, climactic play, the ball soars over the net, and Tsukishima jumps—higher than you’ve ever seen him—his hand slamming down in perfect sync with his team’s attack. The gym explodes in cheers as the point is won, sealing the victory. You’re on your feet, clapping and cheering along with everyone else, but all you can think about is how incredible he looked in that moment—so strong, so confident. Your pulse is pounding, and you can’t tell if it’s from the excitement of the game or something else entirely.

When the match ends and the crowd begins to disperse, you feel a mix of relief and lingering anticipation. You made it through the game without being caught, and for the first time in a while, you let yourself have fun without worrying about school or your mom’s expectations.

As you start to gather your things, you feel a presence next to you. You glance up and there he is—Tsukishima. He’s standing close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him, his tall frame casting a slight shadow over you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and calm, but there’s a subtle edge to it that makes your heart jump again.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

His gaze flickers toward the crowd, and then back to you. “You’re still here,” he says, as if he hadn’t expected you to stay until the end.

“Of course,” you say, feeling a little flustered. “Yamaguchi invited me.”

Tsukishima nods, his expression unreadable as always. “You didn’t have class?”

Your stomach twists, the lie you’ve been trying to avoid suddenly hanging between you. “Uh… no. I mean, yes. But I skipped it,” you admit, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

He raises an eyebrow, a hint of something like amusement crossing his features. “You skipped class to watch volleyball?”

“Yamaguchi invited me,” you repeat defensively, but even you can hear how weak the excuse sounds.

Tsukishima huffs out a small laugh, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

You feel your face heat up even more, but there’s a strange thrill in his teasing. It’s not cruel, like it sometimes feels when he scolds you in class. This time, it feels almost… warm.

Before you can respond, Yamaguchi jogs over, grinning widely. “Hey! Thanks for coming!” he says, his eyes bright with excitement. “I’m so glad you got to see the game.”

You smile back, grateful for the distraction. “It was great! You guys were amazing. Good game,” you said awkwardly, not sure what else to say.

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Thanks.”

Yamaguchi chuckled. “Look at him, trying to act all cool. He’s just happy to see you. Tsukki always plays better when someone important is watching,” Yamaguchi teased beside you, his tone playful.

Tsukishima shot Yamaguchi a look but didn’t deny it. Instead, he turned back to you, adjusting his glasses. “I’m glad you came.”

The simple statement sent a flutter through your chest, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of ease. Maybe things weren’t perfect—maybe you were still struggling with your classes and the pressures that weighed on you—but in this moment, standing here with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, you realized that you didn’t have to face it all alone. Small moments like this, small escapes from the overwhelming routine, were what made it all bearable.

The rest of the day is a blur, but you carry the memory of the game—and those fleeting moments with Tsukishima—long after you leave the gym. His teasing words, the way his eyes lingered on you for just a second longer than necessary—it all leaves you feeling strangely giddy, like something has shifted between you. You don’t know what it means yet, but the thought of it makes your heart beat just a little faster.

The excitement from the game lingers with you as you walk back to your dormitory. You should feel relieved, maybe even a little triumphant for sneaking out of winter class without getting caught. But as you step through the threshold of your room, that familiar heaviness settles back over your chest. The contrast between the energy of the gym and the quiet stillness of your dorm is jarring, almost suffocating.

You close the door behind you and drop your bag on the floor, collapsing onto your bed with a heavy sigh. The reality of what you’ve done sinks in—you’ve skipped class. Skipped winter class. The one your mom keeps reminding you about, the one she’s certain will help you "catch up" with your more advanced classmates. You’re supposed to be there, making up for all the time you’ve "wasted," proving you can handle the challenge.

Instead, you spent the afternoon at a volleyball game.

You glance at your phone, half-expecting an angry message from your mom, berating you for skipping class, but there’s nothing. You turned off your location, after all, so she can’t possibly know. But that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at your insides, twisting and turning in your stomach until you feel almost sick.

Your phone pings with a new notification. It’s from your class group chat—students exchanging notes and summaries of the lecture you missed. You scan through the messages, but every word feels like a weight pressing down on your chest. All your classmates seem so prepared, so eager to prove themselves. Some of them were in the lecture hall an hour before class even started, peppering the professor with questions as if they were experts themselves. Meanwhile, you’ve barely had the energy to keep up with the material, even though you’ve been reviewing it diligently every night.

You should be like them, you think. You should be more proactive, more engaged. Instead, you’ve been struggling just to stay awake, constantly exhausted, your mind barely able to process anything outside of the textbooks in front of you. It’s as if your body is stuck in a cycle—study until you can’t anymore, collapse into bed, and wake up only when your alarm blares to remind you to take your vitamins and ginseng tonic. Your mom’s incessant control over your meals only adds to the stress, with daily reminders that she’s still keeping tabs on your health, convinced you’re not doing enough to take care of yourself.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe you’re not doing enough. But the truth is, you’re just so tired—tired of constantly running on this treadmill, never feeling like you’re getting anywhere. You feel stuck in place, your efforts swallowed up by the endless grind of study, sleep, repeat.

A text comes through from your mom, just as you feared: “Don’t forget to eat the chicken soup I sent over. It should be there by now. And make sure you drink the herbal tonic after—there’s no sugar in it, just like you asked.”

You groan inwardly. Even when you’re not thinking about school, your mom’s constant reminders feel like another layer of pressure. It’s like she doesn’t trust you to manage your own life, and as much as you appreciate her concern, it’s starting to suffocate you. You look over at the brown bag by the door—the delivery she’s had sent to your dorm—and you realize you’ve lost your appetite completely.

You collapse back into bed, letting your body sink into the mattress. You want to sleep. More than anything, you want to shut out the world and just… rest. But your mind won’t let you. It keeps spinning, the guilt of skipping class, the fear of falling behind, and the constant pressure from your mom all swirling around in your head until you can hardly breathe.

And then there’s Tsukishima.

The game flashes in your mind again—his quick glances during the match, the way he teased you afterward, the tension between you when he stood so close. You feel your heart flutter, even as you try to push the thoughts away. You can’t afford to be distracted by him, not when you’re already struggling to keep up with your coursework. But no matter how hard you try to focus, his image keeps creeping back in—his sharp gaze, his calm, steady voice. It’s maddening.

Another buzz from your phone pulls you from your thoughts, but this time it’s not from your mom or your classmates.

It’s Tsukishima.

Your heart skips a beat as you stare at the notification.

Did you make it back to your dorm?

You blink at the screen. It's a simple text, nothing special, but the fact that he’s checking in on you sends a warm feeling spreading through your chest. You feel your fingers twitch, hesitating for a moment before you type out a response.

Yeah, just got back. You?

There’s a long pause. You watch the three little dots as he types and deletes a few times, and you start to wonder if maybe you’ve said something wrong. But then his message finally comes through.

Still at the gym. Going to grab something to eat.

You smile, picturing him somewhere near the gym, maybe wiping off sweat or grabbing his things, looking as serious and unruffled as ever. Before you can overthink it, you send another message.

Don’t forget to eat your veggies —you joke, hoping it will lighten the mood.

You wait for a response, and when it comes, it’s as dry as you expect.

Noted.

A small laugh escapes you. You can almost hear the sarcasm in his voice, the subtle amusement lurking beneath his stoic exterior. You set your phone down, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

But even with Tsukishima’s brief distraction, the reality of your situation remains. You still have winter class tomorrow, and the fear of falling behind looms large over you. The holiday break that should have been a time of relaxation has become nothing but stress, pressure, and endless responsibilities. You’ve been trying so hard to keep up, but it’s clear you’re just not moving at the same pace as your classmates. They’re racing ahead while you feel like you’re stuck in quicksand, every step forward dragging you deeper into the struggle.

And then there’s the question you’ve been avoiding: what if you’re not cut out for this? What if no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be able to catch up? The idea terrifies you, but you can’t shake it. The doubt clings to you like a shadow, darkening every corner of your mind.

As the hours tick by, you find yourself caught between two worlds—the world of responsibility and expectation, and the world of escape, where Tsukishima’s texts linger in your thoughts, a small, comforting reminder that not everything in your life is about pressure and stress.

You rolled over in bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin. All you wanted was to sleep. To shut out the world and forget about winter class, forget about your mom, forget about everything except the warmth of your bed and the lingering memory of Tsukishima’s text.

But your mind wouldn’t let you rest. It kept spinning, the weight of your responsibilities pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe. You couldn’t afford to be distracted, not by Tsukishima, not by the game, not by anything.

Yet, despite your best efforts, his face kept creeping back into your thoughts. The way he’d glanced at you during the game, the teasing smirk he’d given you afterward. It was enough to make your heart race, enough to make you question why you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Your phone buzzed again, and for a moment, you panicked, thinking it was your mom. But when you glanced at the screen, you saw it was another message from Tsukishima.

Get some rest. You look exhausted.

Your breath caught in your throat. You stared at the message, your mind racing. He’d noticed. He’d actually noticed how tired you were, how worn out you felt. It wasn’t much—just a simple observation—but it meant more to you than you wanted to admit.

You typed out a quick response, your fingers trembling slightly.

I will. You too.

His reply came almost immediately.

Sure.

You smiled to yourself, the tension in your chest easing just a little. For a brief moment, everything felt… okay. The stress of winter class, the pressure from your mom, the fear of falling behind—it all seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the warmth of Tsukishima’s words.

And for now, this moment is enough.

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