#well I think you are just simply not a good person

[pomrania]

Now that these polls are over, let's talk about the results. My main qualification here is that I'm the OP, thus (except for when I turned off notifications for this post) I saw every tag and comment in my Activity feed, so I have a pretty good feel for what people have been saying here.

First, some numbers. "I know who the mayor is" had a couple of different options to it, but all put together, it's around 52%. In the second poll, once you remove the "I knew who the mayor is" and "show results" options, leaving only people who definitely didn't know who the mayor is, the results are more like 52% "voted", 27% "not eligible to vote", 5% "intended to vote but didn't", and 16% "didn't vote".

As for why I didn't include an option for "we don't have a mayor"… I genuinely hadn't known that it was so common, I'd thought it would just be a few rare places, and would fall under "it's complicated" or "show results". Which seems to have mostly been the case, although there's a suggestion that some people voted "no", as in "no, I don't know who the mayor is, because there is no mayor".

Second, on the subject of the large number of people who didn't know who their mayor is. I've already shown that it's not quite as large as it seems, 37% who don't know compared to 52% who do know. A number of people said that they hoped that 37% was all children; if the second poll can be taken as a representative sample (at n=779, and with the results pattern having been more or less consistent once it got into the double digits, I'd say it can), this is clearly not the case. (At a minimum, over half of them voted; "not eligible" includes "didn't live here then" as well as "too young".)

A bit of first-hand anecdotal evidence. When the most recent municipal election came around here, I looked at the various candidates for positions, picked the ones I thought were best, voted; and then completely forgot the names of everyone involved. Plus, I'm reasonably sure that my chosen candidate didn't win the election; so simply from "voting", there was no way for me to inherently know who the mayor is. ("Not following local politics AFTERWARDS" is entirely on me though.) I have since looked up who the mayor is, and I still can't give that person's name with 100% certainty.

Other anecdotal evidence, going by what was written in a comment or added in a reblog. There's people who have moved recently, people who know the mayor of where they WORK (which is more relevant to their daily life) but not the mayor of where they RESIDE, people who can picture the mayor's face but not remember the name, people whose mayor has been doing a competent job and thus isn't someone they need to think about compared to their other politicians who have been causing problems….

If there's one thing you learn from having a poll take off, it's that there's way more variety to life than you originally assumed. That applies to personal habits, environmental conditions, "common" knowledge, and anything else you care to name; even things where 99% vote for a single option, either it turns out you're in the minority and hadn't known it, or you learn about minority situations / opinions you'd never even imagined.

In some places, you'd have to go out of your way to know who the mayor is; in some places, you'd have to go out of your way to NOT know who the mayor is. "SHOULD someone go out of their way, if necessary, to learn about the mayor" is a separate issue.

[fireinmoonshot]

soft hearted | joaquin torres x fem! reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: You're not the type of person to go clubbing – but Joaquin is pretty good at convincing you to come along with him when he goes. Yet, when an interaction with another man at the club goes badly, Joaquin is there to pick up the pieces and make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of drinking/clubbing/eating/food as well as a guy at the club being creepy and physically grabbing the readers wrist, causing a bruise. Word Count: 4.1k A/N: Here I am with another Joaquin fic! I really love how this one turned out. I honestly wrote it just this afternoon in a few hours, I started it and I couldn't stop working on it. I'm really happy with it so I hope those of you who read it enjoy it, even though it's longer than my last Joaquin fic! Please let me know if you liked it and if you'd like to read more Joaquin from me! 💗

“Did I ever say thank you for coming out with us tonight?” Joaquin says, placing a hand on the small of your back to help guide you as the two of you make your way through the crowd, heading back to your booth where your friends are waiting for their drinks.

He’s been texting you all day trying to convince you to join them tonight – but you are the one member of your friendship group that isn’t into partying and clubbing. It’s always difficult to convince you to leave your house once you’re there. 

It never stops Joaquin from trying though. He always enjoys clubbing more when you come out with them. Even just being in your presence is something he loves – whether he’s at a club or anywhere else.

“Oh, just about ten times,” you flash him a grin, trying to avoid bumping into anyone and spilling the drinks. Your friends had been waiting long enough considering how busy the club was. 

Joaquin laughs, the sound audible above the loud music in the bar. It’s a familiar sound and one that instantly comforts you despite your unease at being in such a crowded place. “Definitely room for me to improve, then, angel. What do you think?” 

“I think, pretty boy, that you could probably benefit from inviting me out somewhere other than a packed club sometimes, simply so I can talk to you without having to yell!” You joke, flashing him a look as you finally get back to the booth where your friends are waiting, placing the tray with all of their drinks on it on the table. They all take their drinks, yelling thank you’s at you and Joaquin as you take your seats again. 

“You guys made it!” One of your friends, Cruz, yells out at the both of you.

Joaquin meets your eyes from across the table with a grimace. Cruz is incredibly drunk by the sound of his slurred voice. Joaquin is only a few drinks deep and he’s nowhere near as far gone as Cruz is. You both share an amused smile as Joaquin takes a swig of his beer.

Clubs are not your thing, never have been. It just so happens that you’ve befriended several people that love them – Joaquin being quite the enthusiast. He’s dragged you out to many clubs over the city in the time since you’ve known him. If it were anyone else, you were pretty sure you never would’ve gone… but with Joaquin, you don’t mind it. His presence is comforting, even in such a busy and chaotic atmosphere.

Joaquin is the kind of guy that all the girls and guys in clubs like these like, and on nights like this, you can understand why. The way he looks, a smile on his face as he laughs at something one of your friends says, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead from the warm air. He’s effortlessly attractive to anyone that looks at him. He’s so comfortable here. You’ve always found Joaquin attractive, but even you can admit that he looks even more attractive when he’s in a place like this – if that’s even possible.

You take a long sip of your drink – water, having decided early in the night that you were gonna be the designated driver for your friends so that they could all enjoy their night properly. 

“I’m just going to the bathroom, okay?” You lean into your friend, Katy, sitting beside you to tell her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll take my phone with me if you need me!”

She nods, a little pre-occupied in a conversation with the guy beside her – someone she’d met earlier in the night at the club and had been with you guys ever since. Your eyes fall on Joaquin briefly, still laughing at something he’d heard, as you stand from the booth.

It’s difficult to make your way through the crowd without Joaquin guiding you, making you feel safe with his hands on you, but you manage. When you see the door to the bathrooms you almost let out a sigh of relief. They’re empty when you finally make your way inside – another relief. Girls at clubs can be nice, but they can also be the entire opposite and it’s nice to have a moment completely to yourself to have a second to breathe.

Once you’re done, you take another long breath before leaving the bathroom, preparing yourself for the walk back through the crowd of people dancing so you can get back to your friends. You walk past the bar first, finding it to be a little less crowded than the dance floor.

It’s louder over this side of the room, the music thudding and thumping since you’re closer to the speakers. It’s probably the reason you don’t hear the voice of someone beside you at the bar trying to talk to you as you attempt to make your way past. You only realise when a hand grabs your wrist, tugging you backwards. You stumble a little, bracing yourself on the edge of the bar, eyes falling on a light haired man sitting on a stool at the bar. The way he’s looking at you already makes you feel uneasy. 

“Do you often ignore people who are trying to talk to you, honey?” He says, voice raised enough for you to be able to hear him.

“I’m sorry?” You furrow your eyebrows. “If you said something before, I didn’t hear it. It’s pretty loud in here.” You point towards the roof of the bar where the speakers are. 

He laughs, a sound completely opposite to the sound of Joaquin’s earlier. This mans laugh immediately unsettles you and if he wasn’t still holding onto your wrist, you would be gone. But he has an uncomfortably tight grip on it and you doubt he’s planning to let go.

“Yeah, sure,” he scoffs, then picks up his drink and takes a long sip of it. “Listen, I don’t appreciate being ignored, okay? I put myself out there to talk to you, so I’d appreciate it if you gave me the same energy in return.”

You swallow, heart in your throat, and attempt to take a deep breath. This is not good. Why had you gone to the bathroom by yourself? Especially on such a busy night in a busy club.

“Okay,” you start. “If you let go of my wrist, I’ll sit down here and we can talk for a bit.” You figure it can’t hurt to try and bargain with him, even though you have every intention of trying to get as far away from him as quickly as possible when he lets go.

“How can I be sure you won’t run away? Nah, I don’t think I will let go.” He adjusts his grip on your wrist, pulling you a little closer to him. Your heart starts beating faster as the fear starts to set in.

You risk a glance across the bar in the direction of your friends booth and feel your stomach drop as you realise you can’t see them from here, meaning they can’t see you either. Surely Katy would notice that you hadn’t come back yet and would come looking for you… you aren’t too far away from the bathrooms, so there’s a chance she’d see you on her way… but you know that she’s too occupied with her new man to come looking for you. 

This is why you don’t like coming out. This is why you always say no when Joaquin or your other friends ask you to come out with them. And the one time you say yes, this is what happens. You should’ve told Joaquin where you were going as well but you figured it’d be okay – it was just a quick trip to the bathroom, what could go wrong?

Panic starts to rise in your stomach and you try your best to push it down and not let it get the better of you. You know you need to keep yourself calm in a situation like this, especially around a man like this, or things can go south quickly. 

“I promise I won’t run away,” you lie, trying not to let your nerves come through in your tone of voice. “But you’re actually really hurting me right now, so I’d appreciate if you let me go. Can we make a deal? I won’t run and you’ll let go.”

You can tell by the look in the mans eyes that he isn’t going to give up this easily. The longer he keeps holding your wrist, the more your breathing starts to get heavier. How can you get out of this situation when he’s not willing to make this deal with you?

A hand gently lands on your lower back and you flinch, just as you hear a soft voice in your ear. “It’s just me, you’re okay,” Joaquin whispers, calming you immediately.

It’s impossible not to let out a breath of relief as your eyes fall on him. He’d come after you. He’d noticed you were gone or Katy had told him you hadn’t come back yet. He’s here. You’re not alone with this man and you know Joaquin isn’t going to leave you.

Joaquin’s hand gently rubs up and down on your back.

“What you’re gonna do right now is let go of the ladies wrist,” he says simply.

You watch as the mans eyes flicker towards Joaquin but then fall back on you, his grip still tight around your wrist. You attempt to step a little closer to Joaquin but it’s impossible to move with him still holding onto you.

“Hey! Eyes over here, man. Not on her.”

The man sighs. “Listen, man–”

“No, you listen to me,” Joaquin steps in-between you and the man, his voice forceful and loud above the music. “What you are going to do right now is let go of her wrist or I am going to break yours right here, right now. And that won’t be all I break either.”

“Okay, sure. You definitely look strong enough to do that, pal,” he scoffs.

You inwardly wince. You know Joaquin is strong enough to do that and worse. He’s a Captain in the Air Force and he’s The Falcon. You’re pretty certain that he could inflict a lot more damage than a broken wrist.

“You wanna find out?” Joaquin asks.

The look on Joaquin’s face must be intimidating because the man finally relinquishes his hold on your wrist. You immediately wrap your other hand around your wrist, holding it to your chest and trying to ignore the pain throbbing through it from his grip.

The man throws his hands in the air and rolls his eyes before standing and walking away, further into the crowd of people. Before he’s even disappeared from your view, Joaquin has turned around, his hands moving to take your arm and carefully examine your wrist.

“It’s already starting to bruise… that bastard,” he mutters, his eyes dark. You can hear every word despite the loud music around you simply because of how close he’s moved into your space. “You okay? I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I only just noticed you were gone a few minutes ago and Katy mentioned something about the bathroom so I went there straight away but I couldn’t find you.”

The fear and panic in your stomach has gone, now replaced by nausea. You can feel yourself starting to shake, the adrenaline of everything starting to wear off. “Can you take me home?”

Joaquin doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist, hold you close and leading you out of the bar. He figures he’ll just text your friends once you’re both safely in a cab to tell them where you’d both gone – that and he’s a little annoyed at Katy for letting you go to the bathroom alone. He’s annoyed at himself for not noticing sooner that you’d disappeared. 

“I’d drive you home myself but I’ve been drinking, angel,” Joaquin says as the two of you wait for a cab on the sidewalk just up the street from the club. His arm is still wrapped around your waist, holding you close. It’s comforting to you, helping you to remember that he’s still there beside you, not going anywhere. “My place is closer, but we can go to yours if you feel up for a longer cab ride.”

You shake your head. “Your place is fine.” You’ve stayed over at his apartment before, several times, both alone and with other friends. His bed is much more comfortable than your own, you’ve learned, since he never lets you sleep on the couch.

“Okay,” he says, rubbing your back gently as the cab pulls up in front of you.

He lets you in first before sitting beside you and telling the cab driver his address. One of his hands holds yours, his thumb gently sweeping back and forth over your skin in an attempt to help calm you down. He can see how uneasy you still feel after it all. Why had he not gotten to you sooner? Not realised you were missing sooner? 

The cab ride back to his apartment is silent, as is the elevator ride up to his floor. You wait beside him, arms crossed over your chest as he unlocks his front door and lets you inside first. 

“You wanna shower or something?” He asks, closing the door behind you.

“Yeah, I think that’d help,” your voice is small. The sound of it makes Joaquin’s heart hurt. 

“You remember where I keep my clothes? You can help yourself, angel.” 

You nod, reaching over to gently squeeze his hand again before heading towards his bedroom to get some of his clothes to change into before heading into the bathroom just off of his bedroom. 

While you shower, Joaquin kicks off his shoes, steps into the kitchen and starts working on making you something to eat. Something warm, something comforting. He’s become a pretty decent cook over the past few years and cooking for you is one of his favourite things to do. He’s always inviting you over for dinner, which is exactly the reason why you know where he keeps his clothes – you eat, you stay late talking, Joaquin refuses to let you go home when it’s so late at night and he has a perfectly comfortable bed.

His heart almost stops in his chest as he sees you walking out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of his sweatpants and a shirt. “I know I’ve said this before, angel, but you look damn good in my clothes,” he flashes you a grin. 

You teasingly roll your eyes at him as you walk into the kitchen, arms crossed over your chest as you try and suss out what he’s cooking you. “Bet you say that to all the friends you let stay over and borrow your clothes, Torres.”

Joaquin snorts. “Bold of you to assume I have other friends staying over.”

He doesn’t. Even out of your friendship group, you are the only person who’s stayed over in the last several months and especially the only person he’s let sleep in his bed and borrow his clothes. He’s not willing to admit to himself what that really means. Not yet.

“What are you cooking?” You ask, peeking inside the pot on the stove.

“Pozole,” he says, coming up beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back. He’s apparently incapable of keeping his hands to himself when he’s worried about you. “It won’t be ready for another hour and a half at least, but I figured cooking you something comforting and warm might be nice. I was already gonna cook it for dinner this week so I had everything in the fridge ready to go.” 

“Joaquin, you didn’t have to do that,” you glance over at him. “Really, I would’ve been fine with a cup of tea or a pack of cup noodles. And it’s so late.” You mean it honestly, even though the fact that he’s been prepping everything for this while you were showering sits heavy and meaningful in your stomach. No one ever does things like this for you… except Joaquin.

He shrugs his shoulders and moves away from the stove, hands on your waist so that you move with him. He directs you over to the couch, waiting till you sit down before he puts a blanket in your lap and attempts – badly – to tuck you in. 

“What are you doing?” You can’t help but laugh. 

“You are gonna sit here for the next hour and a half, till the pozole is ready, put on a movie or something, and just try and relax. And I am gonna sit beside you, once I get changed out of these sweaty ass clothes,” he says, standing back up straight. “I’ll be two minutes, angel!” He calls out, hurrying away from you towards his bedroom.

You smile to yourself as you grab the remote to the TV and try your best to curl up under the blanket. It’s amusing, how quickly things can change. An hour ago, you were in the club with Joaquin, who was having the time of his life, and now here you are, curled up on his couch in his clothes. Your eyes drift down to your wrist, where a bruise is already starting to form, and you wince. That’s going to be painful when it fully forms.

Joaquin comes back out a few minutes later, wearing a similar pair of sweatpants and a muscle tank that causes you to focus on his biceps for much too long. You barely even notice that he’s carrying something in one of his hands. 

“Uh, what’s that?” You ask, motioning to the tube.

“It’s cream that’s meant to help bruises,” he says, lowering himself down onto the couch beside you. “I forgot I had it but I bought it for myself not long after I became Falcon. Will you let me put it on you?” 

You nod, letting him take your arm in his gentle grip. He squeezes some of the cream onto your wrist and gently massages it in. It hurts already, even with just the slightest bit of pressure, but you try your best to ignore it and focus on the look of concentration on Joaquin’s face. He looks up at you afterwards, catching you staring. 

“See something you like, angel?”

You look away, a little flustered, and pull your wrist out of his grip. “Thank you.”

He grins and stands up, heading back towards the bathroom to put the tube away and wash the cream off of his hands. He knew it might not be the right time to be teasing with you, but he had to be – this was the Joaquin you knew, and he could tell that right now, the last thing you wanted was for him to treat you like you were something breakable, like what had happened at the bar was something you couldn’t move past. 

“All right, what are we watching?” He says as he walks back to the couch, climbing over the back of it and settling down next to you, resting his arms up on the back of the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “You pick somethin’ good?”

You surprise him by passing him the remote. “You choose. I can’t find anything.”

He almost freezes solid when he feels your head lean down on his shoulder. He lets his arm fall around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest so you can rest comfortably. 

“What if I pick something you don’t like?” He asks, trying his hardest not to stare at the top of your head and hope to hell you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating, even though you’re laying on the opposite side of his chest.

“Nah, you won’t,” you say. “I like everything you like.”

Joaquin clears his throat and huffs a laugh. “Yeah, what if I put on The Conjuring or something?” 

“You wouldn’t,” you mutter, knowing him well enough to know he’s joking.

“What if I’m being serious, angel? What if all I want is to put on a scary movie so you get all frightened and have no choice but to cuddle up to me in search of safety?” He grins. 

“Joaquin, I’m already cuddled up to you.”

He pauses. “Okay, well that’s true.”

“Just pick a movie, Joaquin.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You’re thirty minutes into the movie by the time you speak again. Joaquin is invested in the story but the second you speak, his entire attention is on you. 

“Thank you for saving me tonight, Joaquin,” your voice is quiet.

Joaquin gently rubs your shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. You don’t have to thank me for anything, angel. You know that, right? I should’ve noticed and come after you as soon as you left. Katy should’ve never let you go to the bathroom alone either.”

He can’t help the bitterness in his tone. 

“I didn’t meant to ruin your night, Joaquin,” you mutter, seemingly ignoring everything that he’d just said to you. 

Joaquin is quick to sit up straight, making you move from your spot on his chest. You look at him, eyebrows furrowed at his sudden movement. He gently cups your face in his hands. 

“Ruin my night? Angel, you did not ruin my night. Did you not hear anything I just said? In fact, you probably made my night even better than it already was. I mean, c’mon, pozole and being curled up on the couch watching a movie with you is a hell of a lot better than being out in that club without you,” Joaquin admits, his honesty getting the better of him. 

You frown a little, eyes clouding with tears. Joaquin is quick to wipe one from your cheek after it falls. His heart hurts at the sight of the tears in your eyes. 

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you into his chest again, wrapping his arms around you and letting you cry into his chest. Your arms wrap around him, gripping the material of his shirt. One of his hands rubs up and down on your back in an attempt to relax you. “I always ask you to come out with us cause I enjoy it more when you’re there. I thought you knew that. And I know the clubs aren’t your scene, but I figured you didn’t hate them that much if you said yes to me every now and then. I promise I won’t ask you again, angel. Especially after what that prick did tonight. I almost knocked his jaw in then and there.”

He smiles as he hears something that sounds like a sob like laugh come from you. 

“If I ever see him again, I can’t promise I won’t break his wrist, believe me.”

“No, you won’t,” you mutter, pulling away from his hug. 

His hands immediately move to your face again, clearing the tears off of your cheeks. 

“Maybe I will,” he shrugs.

“You’re too much of a sweetheart for that, Joaquin Torres. I mean… look at everything you’ve done for me tonight. You telling me you’re not a soft hearted person?” You ask.

Joaquin smiles to himself. “Angel, I’m just soft hearted for you,” he confesses. “Now, I’m gonna quickly go check on this pozole okay?” He stands up from the couch, stretching his legs and padding over towards the kitchen – mostly just to make it so you don’t feel obligated to say anything in return. 

He’s standing in front of the stove, stirring the pozole with a wooden spoon, when he feels your arms snake around him from behind, surprising him with a back hug. “Uhhh, what’s happening right now?” He asks, pausing his stirring.

“Thank you,” is all you offer in answer.

“Angel, what’s going on?”

You remove your arms from around him so he can turn around and face you again. He’s about to ask you what you’re thinking when you lean up and press your lips to his cheek before bounding back over to the couch without another word. Joaquin stands, staring after you in shock. He feels like his cheek has been burned – in a good way, if that’s even possible.

“Hurry up and finish stirring that pozole, pretty boy!” You call out from your spot on the couch. “I wanna finish watching this movie and my pillow has gone missing.” 

Joaquin lets out a small laugh, gives the pozole another small stir and starts walking back over to you. “I suppose I’m the pillow?” He asks, shaking his head. “I’m comin’, angel. I’m comin’.” 

[theoccultz]

10 things you are doing just right ...

Just a pac about things you might not be aware abt that you are doing "JUST RIGHT"

Take what resonates leave what doesn't

Timeless intuition based reading

Pics and dividers credits to their original rightful owners , I do not own them

Pile A. Pile B. Pile C .

Pile A.

You are able to recognise and let go of unwanted thoughts , baggage and emotions in this period + you are not carrying anybody's burdens anymore.

You are being very practical and straightforward in dealing with things.

You are in a good place in terms of your physical health or you will be , you are uplifting others with your energy just being around you is helping them forget about their problems .

You are getting over/ leaving or forgetting about past disappointments that is helping you attract positive outcomes .

You are in a good mood your emotions no longer control you , you have matured with time and the universe is very happy with your progress , you are also not believing in false positivity .

You are moving on & not caring about selfish people you are setting tough boundaries , you are taking care of your physical appearance as well that's doing a lot for you in this period , idk something about mind /body/soul alignment .

You are doing things for you , you are thinking positively about your future, you are giving yourself a lot of time , you are no longer blaming yourself, you are no longer a people Pleaser .

You no longer trust your negative thought pattern sure you sometimes may believe it but you know nothing's gonna happen as you are imagining it's just a "nonsense thought" .

You are treating the opposite gender well ....now I don't know what it means but yes they like your energy/vibe overall .

You no longer tolerate anybody's bull*it ,you simply do not just participate in it , they can argue with a wall , make assumptions and bark in front of the mirror , you are not giving them your precious time and focusing on what's best for you .

If you were going through a period of uncertainty or where nothing was happening it was meant to be like that , you did very well in taking care of your energy and bringing yourself up from rock bottom , you will be stepping into a period of limelight where there's just a lot of people coming into your life , a lot of people wanting to talk to you , you might travel a lot spontaneously, yeah you will be getting a lot of attention and it's not gonna feel burdensome.

Thanks for Reading !!

Pile B.

You are being very kind and gentle to yourself that is helping you regulate your nervous system .

You have accepted things as they are and it's helping you move on from past hurt & disappointments , you might be even moving on from a person , you are truly realising your "value" .

You are attracting wealth and power in your life , you are attracting good things overall it could be as simple as a good meal , you are also watching movies and shows that are helping you in some way in this period .

You are connecting with higher powers spiritually , your guides, your ancestors, spirit animals may be sending you signs it could be anything like a calm video or a fun memory .

You are eating healthy I got this twice , you recognise your manifesting power better now , you are trusting yourself more .

You are doing better mentally pile 2 , you are doing good in life overall I mean better than most of the people, you are able to deal with things better than most people now .

You are balancing your anger ? Like not letting it affect your physical health, you are more chill in this period than you realise lol .

You guys are looking good or dressing better ..okay spirits compliments ...💚

Your throat chakra is healing , you will be getting over sicknesses or a down period very soon .

You are becoming strong physically & mentally , you are also becoming more responsible , yeah others are also respecting you more or being loving towards you , some people are also facing consequences of their actions for doing you wrong , yeah .

You have faced so many things pile 2 , I feel you deeply , you deserve a lot of love & appreciation even if you don't need it you need to know , you deserve every good things , you are not meant to be treated like nothing the right people will appreciate you and will never make you feel less , you are not too much you are not too less no matter what anyone assumes you are an amazing person who anyone will feel privileged to have in their life , spending time with you is truly a blessing , you are a great friend and you will attract understanding and kind people, people who deserve you & value you to the core , I'm so proud of you like pile2 I see you and you are doing so well it takes a lot of strength to be a bigger person and you should neverrr downplay it .

Thanks for Reading !!

Pile C

+18 messages ahead ....

You are connecting with your sexual energy, you will be feeling more confident in your body .

You are attracting people who are exciting and giving .

You are attracting good luck , good karma , people are loving your energy they may be feeling really attracted towards you physically & emotionally .

You are detaching from situations , people , things and your spirit team is giving you a pat on the back for it .

You are not anymore socially anxious you are actually more confident than you give yourself credit for .

You are expressing yourself more or you need too .

You are processing things in a healthy way , maybe your coping mechanisms are helping you a lot in this period .

You are attracting more light hearted energy towards you idk in what form tho maybe you are feeling good , not overthinking that much , or attracting children's and pets yeah ...

You are prioritising yourself, you are more committed to your goals , you are smelling good I'm sorry channeling works this way only ...

You are socialising more or giving good advice to others , you are also starting to incorporate a lot of healthy habits in your routine .

Yeah I strongly feel people who will pick this pile will be reading these messages after a painful transformation and spirit is like good things are already here , I feel like in a way you have surpassed yourself because you have handled things way better... very smoothly than anybody expected, your energy at this moment is really high vibrational it feels like the "love energy " you will be literally attracting opportunities and you are really creating opportunities for yourself in a way , whatever you manifest in this period it's already yours , so believe it 🍀

Thanks for Reading !!

[soulsforsales]

I don’t think people understand the extent and effect of Jason Todd’s trauma. I mean, every time Jason goes “I died.” Everyone’s like “we know, Jason!”

But no. No, you don’t know. He died — in every sense of the word. His heart stopped beating, his lungs stopped giving out air. His body was taut, numb, paralyzed.

And the crowbar, the beating didn’t kill Jason Todd— the bomb did which means he laid down on that cold stone floor of the warehouse in a pool of his own blood and counted down the minutes to his death, quite literally and even in his last moments, beyond all logic, he was hoping that Dad will come, Dad will save him, Dad will be here. But Dad was too late.

And he was helpless and tired and bleeding when the shrill scream of the explosion cut through followed by that chilling silence. He must have felt the debris press into his already broken bones and skin and that’s when it must have hit him that it’s actually over. He’s dead and Dad couldn’t save him. So, he must have closed his eyes and waited for the peace that follows with being dead.

Because he was just a kid. Sixteen. Kids die and go to heaven, right? Well, even that was snatched away from Jason.

Because he was forced back to life— whether it was climbing out of your own fucking grave or the Lazarus pit— he was forced back into a life that was his no more because who he was, the kid, the Robin— he died and what came back was someone no one could identify.

He must’ve felt his heart beat frantically to push all that blood through his aching muscles, his lungs finally swallowing in air after being black and blue for god knows how long. He came back only to find out that the one person he loved most in the world didn’t think him worthy of being avenged. No matter how much Bruce suffered after Jason’s death— in my opinion— Jason’s anger is justified. Because he was JUST A KID. He was killed simply to spite Batman, he was killed as collateral damage. A KID- BEATEN BLOODY AND BRUISED FOR SIMPLY WANTING TO HELP HIS MOTHER FOR SIMPLY WANTING TO PROVE HE WAS GOOD.

Can you even imagine how many times he must’ve just wanted to stop? Can you imagine how much he wanted to just go home and have Alfred bake him cookies again? How much he wanted to hug Bruce and try forgiving, how much he wanted to call Dick “brother” again and just be his “little wing?”

It pains me to see how he’s treated— both fanon and canon.

Jason Todd isn't just the “angry Robin” or “the violent anti-hero with a grudge” he’s so much more.

He is a hero. And he died a hero. He died trying to save someone. He died hoping he saved someone.

I have said it before and I’ll say it again: he did NOT deserve that. But look how he took all the bad things that happened to him and only gave the world something better in return?

Yeah, that’s who Jason Todd is.

[cvnt4him]

insecurities is just the most common thing a human being can experience..no matter your power, strong will, immaculate self discipline, insecurities are normal and everyone goes through it once in a while.

And like everyone else, you have your own insecurities. Being fat is something everyone seems to look down on. Everything is funnier and way easier to make fun of when you're fat. You hate looking at yourself and seeing your body. Your chubby tummy, your fat arms and squishy cheeks. They were the bare minimum of what you disliked about yourself, dare you say hate.

It will always befuddle you when you see your super handsome strong and admirable boyfriend. I mean he's well built, sexy, and damn was he just blatantly perfect. There's no point in pointing out small features about him when everything you seen was perfect. Anyone with eyes could see he is a walking piece of art perfectly made.

It hurts you to see that you're holding something like him down. It makes you feel terrible.

You're sulking in bed, you haven't moved since he's left this morning. It worries him terribly. It's normal for you to feel gross and icky but that doesn't mean it doesn't upset him as well. He hates seeing you cry, and when it gets this bad he can't help that stinging feeling he feels his heart give.

While you're hidden under the cover not bothering to lift your head up to see anything he slowly and quietly walked towards you, a small smile on his face as he climbed into bed behind you. You feel the extra dip in the bed added given his weight. you open your eyes beneath the cover before you swing the cover off of you whipping your head around to see your loving boyfriend.

Calm eyes full of love and adoration for you. He scoffs lightly and pulls you into a deep and tight hug causing you to whine. Small kisses are planted on top of your head while he holds you closely and you listen to his breath, his heart beating behind his chest.

“ ’s everything okay.”

It wasn't really a question but it was good to feel like he cared. Of course you knew he did, he cared so much and he made sure that you knew that....in his own weird ways.

You give a small nod before you try to scooch impossibly closer to him. He chuckled above you and sinks deeper into the comfort of the bed, not bothering to remove the clothes he was wearing after the long day he's had. Holding you was simply enough.

Sure he might not be done much of anything, but him just being near you was enough to make you feel loved. Like regardless of your weight, you're loved. He had a knack for that, he was a damn good person and an even better boyfriend. You were impossibly lucky, is all you could think.

“ I love you. y'know that.”

You nod again, he hums in disapproval above you his brows furrowing as he looks down at you giving the top of your head a rather aggressive kiss before he grabs you by your chin and cranes your head up to his so you can face him, he gives you a stern yet pouty look huffing as he stared down at you.

There is no way this big strong manly (for the most part) man was sitting here pouting. If only the world could see your man now. He was adorable that's for sure. You can't help the giggles and laughs that escape you as you stare up at him, admiring his handsome yet cute features. He truly was a work of art, the gods definitely took their precious time sculpting him and those abs.

“ I love you.”

He says once more while he continues to pout. You snicker and realize what's got him so peaved, he wants you to say 'i love you' back. You always say it back when he says it to you, mainly because it's true, you do love him as well. But another reason is because it makes you feel like he loves you just that little bit more when you say it.

For the fun of it, you decided you weren't gonna say it. Just to see how far you could really take it. A small displeased groan leaves him as he eyes you up and down eyes squinting at you as your teasing smile grows wider, you try your best not to crack but you can't help it. He's too cute, you burst out in laughter and let your head fall onto his chest.

He groans and kisses you all over, pouting and slightly annoyed with you but he can't deny the fact that he loves you far too much. You eventually tire yourselves out, small giggles leaving your two motionless and entwined bodies. Your arms draped over his body while his legs were in between yours, fingers locked together as you hold hands smiles on both of your tired faces.

He looks over to see your eyes closed, you weren't exactly asleep just in more of a dazed estate really thankful for what you have and how much love you feel even when you get in this mindset. A heavy sigh leaves him as he looks back up at the ceiling deciding he'll just do what he needs to in the morning. He quickly sheds his day clothes off and turns in for the night in only his boxers holding you close and kissing your temple, his hand on your tummy as he occasionally squeezes it, giving you a ticklish yet discomforting feeling.

You squirm at the touch and then to give him a warning look that he simply dismissed with a smirk and a roll of his eyes. He pulls you closer and chuckles in your ear lightly, you can feel his breath fan the side of your face as he sighs heavily.

It was hard to feel insecure about your body when regardless of what he does he managed to make you feel loved.

mha ➥ izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugou, EJIROU KIRISHIMA, mirio togata, denki kaminari silently.

hq ➥ HINATA SHOYOU, BOKUTO KOTAROU, atsumu miya, kuroo tetsuro, asahi azumane but quietly aswell.

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 12

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose. Also Discussion of toxic media/fandom/death threats.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando sat on the couch, staring at his phone like it had personally betrayed him. Lizzie, curled up next to him with Mara at her feet, noticed his thumb hovering over the screen, hesitating. She nudged him with her knee.

"Alright, what is it? Did Max send you another cursed meme?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. There was something going on. Something that he hadn't told her yet. 

She had learned to read Lando well enough to pick up on these kinds of unsaid cues. The way he looked, the way he smiled, his eyes just so crinkling at the corners...she knew exactly the titl of his head, the way the right corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile when he read something funny on his phone...She knew. 

And she treasured all these tiny details, hoarded them like a dragon did to it's gold. 

Lando huffed a small laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Worse."

Lizzie's eyebrows furrowed, concern creasing her forehead. That wasn't good.  "Worse? What's worse than Max Verstappen's questionable taste in humor?" she asked, trying to infuse some humour into the situation, but Lando didn't seem interested in that. 

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, you know how I sent that picture of Mara in her Ferrari bandana to Charles?"

Lizzie's face lit up as she nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes, how could I forget? The cutest picture I've ever seen."

Her dog was the most adorable dog to ever grace this earth, thank you very much. (She was very much certain that every dog owner had thought that at one moment in time, but she was correct!) 

Lando chuckled and pulled her into his side. She breathed in the scent that was simply him, something fresh and warm and so utterly Lando...feeling his body warmth seep into her, through the thin shirt he was wearing. "Yeah, yeah, you’ve said that a thousand times," he teased. "But you’ll never guess what happened when Charles showed that picture to his girlfriend."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "What, did she think it was so cute it gave her a heart attack?" she joked. Not that she could fault Charles' girlfriend if that was indeed the case. 

"She recognized Mara," Lando said drily. That was not what Lizzie had expected. Actually that was the last thing she had expected.  "Alexandra Saint Mleux," Lando said, watching her reaction carefully. "is apparently a Lizzie Treshton superfan."

Lizzie’s eyes widened. "Wait, seriously?" she asked, a mix of shock and amusement coloring her voice. Really? "A F1 WAG read my books?"

"Not just her," Lando said, shaking his head. "All of them. And they’ve decided they need to meet you. Effective immediately."

Lizzie stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. 

"So what, they started plotting?" she teased.

"Plotting would be an understatement," Lando said, amused. "I have been forcefully added to the WAG council group chat, and they are demanding that I bring you to a race."

The mere idea of being in a group chat with the wives and girlfriends of Formula 1’s elite sounded like a scene straight out of a fanfiction, but apparently it was her real life now. 

"There’s a WAG council?" She asked, shocked besides herself. That sounded...actually, she had no idea what that sounded like. 

"Apparently."

"That’s amazing," Lizzie said, still giggling. 

Lando made a face. "It’s terrifying."

Lizzie bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "Demanding might be a strong word, though, right?"

"Oh, no," Lando corrected, his expression deadly serious. "There were threats, bribes, and full capital letters. Also, they all want signed copies of Seasons of Fate."

Lizzie let out a soft oh of understanding before shaking her head with a grin. "You know, I really didn’t think this was how our relationship was going to get outed," she said drily. Really. This was really not what she had had in mind. 

"Neither did I," Lando admitted. "But the WAGs are apparently above no tactics when it comes to getting their hands on signed books."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, her curiosity only growing. "So, what exactly did they say?"

Lando sighed, running a hand through his curls. "Well, for starters, Alex offered to ‘whore out her Ferrari golden boy boyfriend’ if it meant getting you to Silverstone."

Lizzie cackled. "She said that?"

"Verbatim," Lando confirmed, looking equal parts entertained and exhausted. "And apparently, Charles will sign whateveryou want if he doesn’t want to be murdered in his sleep."

She burst out in laughter at that. 

"Well, that sounds like... quite the deal," she said, trying desperately to stay serious. "I don’t know whether to be concerned or find it hilariously absurd."

Lando smirked, clearly amused by the situation. "It’s a lot of both," he assured her. "But they're not afraid to play dirty." He grew serious. "I wanted to talk to you before this all blows up. I know we haven’t exactly been hiding, but we also haven’t been, you know, public."

Lizzie sobered slightly, understanding what he was getting at. "You’re worried about what happens when people know."

He nodded. "It’s just… your life is already busy, and the last thing I want is for my world to make things harder for you. The fans, the media, the scrutiny—it’s a lot. And I don’t want you to feel pressured into dealing with that."

Her heart painfully constricted, her expression softened, because it was clear that Lando was worried about this. "I appreciate that," she said sincerely. "But, Lando… I’ve been dealing with fan and media attention for a while now. I thinkI can handle it."

Lando frowned slightly. "Yeah, but F1 media is different. It’s relentless. They’ll speculate about everything, dig through your old tweets, try to twist things. Hell, they’re probably going to turn Mara into some kind of meme."

Lizzie smirked. "I mean, she is an icon. It’s about time the world recognizes it."

Lando groaned. "Lizzie."

She laughed before squeezing his hand. "Look, I won’t pretend it won’t be overwhelming. But I do know that I don’t want to keep pretending we’re just… nothing."

"You know that they’ll be hounding your every move?" he warned her, his voice tinged with concern. "The fans can be ruthless, the media is relentless, and the tabloids—well, they make up their own storylines."

She nodded. "I won’t lie, I know it’s going to be overwhelming. I mean, I have seen what happens when the internet latches onto F1 relationships. But I also know I don’t want to pretend we’re just… nothing. You make me happy, and I don’t want to hide that."

Lando was silent for a moment, his eyes meeting Lizzie's. His thumb traced a gentle circle on the back of her hand as he seemed lost in thought.

“You make me happy too,” he told her, his voice soft. “But they’ll…they’re going to dissect every little thing. If you don’t come to a race, we’ll probably be at the brink of a break up. If you do come, they’ll write ridiculous headlines of you stealing the spotlights. They are going to speculate on how long we’ve been together, probably even come up with wild conspiracy theories..."

She could hear it in his voice, how much it stressed him...how uch even just the thought of people doing that to their relationship was hurting him. 

"Hey," she said softly. "I’m a bestselling fantasy author, Lando. People come up with wild conspiracy theories about my books on a daily basis. I can handle it."

Lando chuckled at that. "Fair point," he admitted, conceding her argument. The tension in his shoulders eased some. "I just…I want you to be sure,” Lando said hesitantly. “The Formula One fandom is another level when it comes to speculating about relationships. And some fans are bloody mental. I have literally received death threats, and I am not the only one. And the media? They are going to be relentless. They’ll ask questions about you at every race, they’ll bring up your epilepsy, they’ll try to spin things."

Lizzie knew that. She was very much aware of that. But Lizzie had lived with her epilepsy for nearly all her life. She already had heard every single horrible thing somebody could say about that. 

Now it would be more of the same. Simply on a bigger stage. 

Was it scary? Yes. 

Did she care? Not really. 

So Lizzie simply squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I know. I’m not naive. And I won’t pretend it doesn’t scare me a little. But I also know I don’t want to let fear dictate my life. We’re in this together, right?"

"Of course, we are."

Lizzie leaned in, resting her forehead against his. "Then let’s do it."

Lando grinned, all traces of his earlier tension disappearing. "You’re braver than me," he said, pulling her closer so he could kiss her forehead. "Are you sure you’re ready for this circus?"

A mischievous glint flashed in Lizzie's eyes. "Honey, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from writing about a war between magical races, it’s that I can handle whatever comes my way."

Lando chuckled, shaking his head at her audacity. "You’re something else, you know that?" he said warmly. 

"Yes," she said, grinning. "So, you’ll take me to Silverstone?"

"I was supposed to be the one inviting you, you know," Lando muttered, feigning exasperation.

Lizzie just smirked. "Too slow, Norris.  Let’s do it. If the WAGs want signed books, I might as well hand-deliver them."

Lando let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. But the moment we walk into the paddock together, the internet is going to explode."

Lizzie leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back with a knowing smile. "Then let’s give them a show, shall we?"

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

MR. CHU!

❤︎‬ sol wonders if you're interested in him after you ask about his piercings ❤︎‬ solivan brugmansia x gn reader ‪ ❤︎‬ wc: 2k ❤︎‬ content warning(s): yandere ❤︎‬ solivan brugmansia is from the kid at the back being developed by fantasia-kitt

Like everybody else in the school, you never used to pay much attention to the quiet kid in your art class. It really wasn’t until recently, when you had no choice but to shyly ask him if he’d like to be your partner for a class project, that you finally acknowledged Solivan Brugmansia’s existence. 

You don’t think too much of him. Even now, as he tries his best to pose for you as naturally as he can, your mind is preoccupied with the far-more colorful personalities at Olympeius University while you absentmindedly sketch the details of his face. You wonder what Crowe might be up to right now, or if Jess has made any progress with her ginormous crush on Brittney… 

Your eyes flicker up to where Sol is, and you try to pay close attention to the bottom half of his face. He’s a physically attractive young man, but aesthetics aside, you’re more worried about drawing Sol well so you can wring a good grade out of your insatiable art professor. You squint your eyes a bit, leering at Sol’s lips to try to make out all the details. It’s no biggie in your mind, since you need someone to model for you and you’re simply trying to make your drawing as accurate to life as possible, but Sol?

Sol thinks he’s going to asphyxiate from how fast and hard his heart is pounding.

He can’t believe his luck. It took him all the self control in his body not to start panicking and freaking out when you had approached him and asked him to be your partner, and now he got the honor of hogging all of your attention while you used him as a model. Would it be foolish of him to hope that you like what you see? He knows his fashion sense and style isn’t for everyone and tends to make him a target more than an object of admiration, but… you’re different. You’re understanding and compassionate, and maybe you’d find something worth loving in him.

“Hold still… I’m almost done here…,” you mutter, sticking your tongue out just a little bit as you scribble furiously onto your sketchpad. Sol’s heart skips a beat, and while he can feel a rush of dizziness immediately hit his brain at your cute tongue peeking out from between your lips, he doesn’t want to disappoint you ever. 

After a few determined strokes, you nod at him. For the first time since class started, Sol finally lets himself relax. His tense muscles groan as he finally allows himself to shift positions into a more comfortable seated position, and he looks expectantly at you as if he wants to see your creation. You’re like a mind reader, and without him having to say anything, you gingerly hand him your sketchbook. 

“I’m not an artist like you are, but… I tried my best,” you shyly admit. Sol’s breath hitches audibly when you scoot your seat a bit closer to him to explain to him your handiwork, but you don’t seem to notice. “I- uh- don’t know if I did your piercings justice since you have a lot, but I gave them a shot.”

You could have spat on the paper and handed it to him, and Sol would still treasure and revere it as if it were a masterpiece deserving to be displayed in the finest of art museums. Of course, he would never hand it over to anybody and keep it only for his personal viewing, but in his perspective, everything your hands could create was nothing if not holy. 

“It’s beautiful. You should give yourself more credit. You’re not a bad artist at all.” He thinks he’s going to pass out after class from just how happy he is. A shudder creeps down his spine as he relishes the thought of your eyes all over his face and body, him being the only thing to take up the forefront of your mind. What he wouldn’t give to know what you thought of him as you sketched his face. Just knowing that you cared enough about him to draw him makes him feel as if he’s on top of the world, and he can feel a warm flush overtake his pale cheeks. “Don’t worry too much about my piercings. I know metal can be hard to draw.”

“Yeah, but… I just feel a little bad. They look so cool on you.” You flash him an innocent smile, completely unaware of the mental anguish you’re putting the poor lovestruck boy through. “I’ll keep practicing! That way I’ll be able to draw you perfectly by the end of this project.”

His piercings? Cool? Sol’s heart genuinely can’t take this barrage. What is it about you that has him acting this way? What is it about you that makes him want to drag you away from everybody else and keep you all to himself, to worship and to love? The others around you don’t know how to fully appreciate your generosity and light, how you’re kind to everyone, even misfits like him. He’s the only one who knows how to properly care and cherish you, and he can’t let anybody else steal that role away from him. He’s spent so many sleepless nights chasing after your warmth, eating away bit by bit at the safety of the boundaries you’ve put up. 

Nothing can keep you safe from him. 

You don’t know anything about how he feels though. You’re pure and oblivious to his mental turmoil, completely unaware of the sheer effect you have on him. You keep looking at him as if he was nothing more than an eccentric classmate rather than someone you were fated to, just without your knowledge. You peer closely at his face, before lifting a delicate finger to point at his lips.

“Say Sol…,” you ask him, clearly absentmindedly based on how casual your tone is, “How do you kiss if you have lip piercings?”

…

…

…

Why did you have to ask him something like that?

Sol thinks his brain might have ceased functioning the moment you threw him that question. Nothing—absolutely nothing—has been able to reach him as he plays that memory over and over again in his head. Even the jeers of the school bullies or Hyugo’s incessant chatter couldn’t yank him out of his lovestruck reverie. Sol was on cloud nine, replaying the melodic cadence of your voice over and over and over again within his memories. He could never get sick of you or your many details. Every little bit of information he could glean from you was so precious that he could spend the rest of his life in sheer ecstasy at how perfect you were. 

Hyugo was used to it at this point and knew not to question it. But whenever Sol entered into these almost drunken stupors, it was hard for Hyugo to not worry about him a bit. Sol’s cheeks are dyed a ridiculous shade of bright red, and his hands tremble uncontrollably as he fidgets with his fingers. There’s a lopsided grin on his face, and if Hyugo really pays attention, he can make out a lovesick sigh escape the eccentric young man every now and then.

Sol just wishes he could actually peer into your mind and figure out what you thought of him! What made you ask him such a risque question? Were you interested in him? You had to be somewhat, if you initiated the partnership with him and even called his style cool… Nobody else talked about him that way. Nobody else, save for you, found him interesting. What if you had a crush on him too? Was that why you asked him about kissing? Was this your way of encouraging him to amp up his advances?

It meant that you had to be thinking about his lips. About kissing him specifically. Sol could feel his heart rate pick up dangerously again as he imagines your sweet face approaching his, closing the impossible distance between the two of you bit by bit. How many years, grueling moments, had he waited for this to take place? Maybe you’d be shy and only leave him with a quick peck to his mouth. Or maybe you’d be more gutsy and press your lips fully onto his, making out with him in a way that leaves both of you breathless and gasping for air. His heart squeezes almost painfully inside of his chest at the thought of you being so close, doing something so mundane yet so intimate, showing him a kind of romantic affection that nobody else could share with you…

He wants so badly to be the only one in your eyes. Each minute of class with you feels like torture. He wants nothing more than to close that gap. It doesn’t have to be anything big: placing his big hand on top of yours, poking your nose whenever you get distracted, all the small things that come so easily for normal couples. Kissing would just be the first step. What else could come after? There was a whole myriad of things he could dream of. He’d escort you dutifully to every single one of your classes so that everybody in this school would know that you were his. 

You’d spend more and more time together, and surely, one day you’d invite him over to your apartment that he’s secretly grown so familiar with… Just thinking about it makes his skin bristle with excitement. If everything went as planned, as easily as his daydreams made it look, then he could finally have you in the way that he wanted most.

You had to reciprocate somewhat. You just had to be interested in him as much as he was interested in you. That was what that quick question meant to him, your words construed and twisted beyond belief inside of his delusional thoughts. 

Hyugo puffs one of his cheeks out and peers at his daydreaming friend with a bit of concern. “Are you gonna eat your lunch, Sunny?”

Sol doesn’t respond at all. Hyugo sighs and shakes his head before tapping the side of Sol’s arm. 

“I asked you a question!” The shorter man points at the untouched food in Sol’s lap. Sol bristles to life, the hearts in his eyes melting away as they refocus and Hyugo enters his field of vision again. Hyugo points once again at the abandoned food and raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

Sol deadpans. If Hyugo’s presence wasn’t so convenient, he would have sent Hyugo flying to his death from the rooftop for interrupting his precious time with daydream-you. He lets Hyugo take the food before letting his mind wander again, wind blowing through his air as he wonders what you might be up to right now. Were you thinking of him too? Would you be thinking of him even when he’s not within your immediate vicinity.

He wants to see you so badly right now. He wishes he was in class again, for the first time in his life, so that he could have you right next to him and monopolize your time as he pleases. But Sol knows he has to be patient. One wrong step would have his great expectations come toppling down, and he would rather die than live in a world where he can’t have you anymore.

So he makes up his mind there and then. There was no room for hesitation. You had finally noticed him after all of his time lurking in the shadows, and these passive moments weren’t enough to satisate the brutal appetite you had awoken inside of him. He needs more. He needs more of your time. He needs more of your love. 

If you were so curious about him and his piercings, so curious about the way he kissed, then he’d make the answer as simple as it could get.

He’ll kiss you tomorrow and show you just how he does it.

x

[meritski]

freezing the moment • kinich x gn!reader

“It never snows in Natlan. Does that mean nobody will experience love here?”

It started with a silly sentence you read in a silly book. One’s first love is the person with whom one experiences the year’s first snow, it said.

It was indeed stupid. Your question, and the statement itself.

Yet, when Kinich thought about his mom and dad— he found himself thinking that it might be true after all. 

It was either right or what he longed for wasn’t love. Because the situation at home clearly was not what he desired.

Noticing how the usually quiet boy remained silent, you sighed. Was he bored? Okay, you can try to change the subject a little bit.

“I’ve never heard anyone have a Cryo vision either. Does that mean since we are in the nation of war, there is no place for love…? Ah, Snezhnaya must be a wonderful place. That's probably why it snows a lot there, right, since it's the land of love? I am so jealous.”

That finally made him speak, to your delight. If he hadn't, it might have flustered you— though since it was Kinich, you wouldn't have minded too much.

Or maybe you would have. He was so good in your eyes that you wouldn’t want to be an embarrassment next to him.

“A rumor says that someone named Granny Citlali from Night Wind’s has a Cryo vision.”

Ah, okay! A new topic, one that he chose to talk about too. You can work with that.

“Do you think she would make it snow if we asked? For fun?”

Seeing your excited eyes and hearing the curiosity in your voice, he paused just for a second before shaking his head.

“They say that she is super scary as well.”

Boo! 

“I’ll make her like me then, trust!”

His gaze lingered on you longer than it should. Though you were so busy talking about a character in your book that came off scary, just like the said elderly, but was a huge softie instead— you didn’t notice how his eyes softened.

He trusted you, without any doubts.

Because before you met him, he too had been perceived as intimidating and scary.

So yes, you could definitely make her like you.

Just like you had with him.

As you both grew older, you realized that you had been too carefree back then.

Because now that he was a saurian hunter— no, on top of that; now that he bore the name ‘Malipo’ you didn't see him around much.

Nothing changed between the two of you, of course. But the environment itself changed, unfortunately. And that made a huge difference. Because now your time with him was ten times more precious, maybe a hundred, which means that even every millisecond you spent together should be cherished.

Now, today, it was by pure luck that you guys ran into each other while doing commissions today. It was a rare sight, not that you minded, of course. You truly missed him over the past few days.

Although it was work, you were minding your business, and you knew Kinich was also doing the same. Fitting. The one who wasn’t minding their own business was Ajaw, apparently. Very fitting, indeed.

“Ugh, how long is this going to take? Might I remind you that I have places to be!”

Well, here we go again.

“Oh yeah, what places?”

Kinich's tone made you crack a smile, it was endearing seeing him like this. Since you two never bickered, their odd dynamic always was full of surprises.

While Ajaw was talking about his fans and Kinich reminding him that they are nonexistent, you simply enjoyed the moment.

And it was good while it lasted, you must say— until a hidden domain you stumbled upon ruined the moment.

The wind wasn’t like the warm breeze at the top of the mountains during the sunset; it was cold.

Natlan was never cold. Never.

As soon as Kinich noticed the change of the air, the jacket that had been loosely wrapped around his waist suddenly found its place on your shoulders. His expression was indifferent.

You, on the other hand, were caught off guard. Flinching slightly at the sudden weight, the warmth quickly crept up to your cheeks. To your displeasure, Ajaw noticed this, he mumbled a quiet ‘disgusting’ and vomited some rainbows. (Spoiler: You might want to deal with him once and for all today.)

Kinich wasn’t known for his words; his actions always spoke louder.

It was his silent way of showing he cared, you noted. He really didn’t change, after all. 

While you two walked through the domain, the chilly demeanor of the domain grew even cooler. Well, if you want to look at it from the bright side, the distance between you and the saurian hunter nearly vanished. His arm brushed against yours from time to time. Though both of you were cold, his skin felt warm— weirdly warm.

When you noticed how his nose was a little bit reddish too, you decided to joke about it a bit. He looked cute, you wouldn’t see the famous Malipo like this often. Why waste the chance to play around a little?

Well, the universe had different plans, just as you were going to comment about it; you slipped. Slipped? Yeah, dragging Kinich into the fall too. You were playing around, alright. 

His hand was at the back of your head, protecting it from the harsh impact it could have gotten. And on top of that— no, let’s rephrase this. On top of you, there was Kinich. 

Wow. Way to go.

Embarrassed, you were so ready to apologize but the sudden coldness you felt on your cheek made you stop. 

The saurian hunter’s shoulders stiffened, his hair, one that is highlighted with orange and green, was now painted white. 

It was snowing.

It was snowing, each snowflake delicate and fleeting— just like the moments you two had and still continued to have.

It felt like the time had stopped— in such a way that the snow froze it, just for the two of you. Just as if giving you the chance to treasure it.

His eyes, which looked like the sunrise in the forest, were locked on you. His breath was caught up on his throat, it seemed (since the usual puff of mist didn’t escape from him). And it did make you more nervous.

Your back was getting cold despite his jacket, and also a little bit wet too. Now you realize what you two were walking on was a frozen lake. Can’t blame you for falling, really.

The whole domain was cold as ice, the pounding on your chest made it impossible to feel it. 

It was warm. Being near Kinich was warm. The memories you two shared were warm. His gaze was warm. He was warm, and he was also making you feel warm.

The feelings you harbored for Kinich, were warm. 

It seems like it wasn’t a silly book nor a silly quote after all.

And when his eyes dropped to your lips for a millisecond(one that should be cherished), a sneeze interrupted you two from a distance.

“Achoo.”

Oh, Ajaw. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ notes!

☆ another work that might get rewritten </3 i swear it sounded better in my head JDHJWJEKFFLES anyway ! ( + not proofread, feel free to correct any mistakes if there is any <: )

☆ i started writing this when it started snowing in the city I live in, it's been 3 years since it last snowed here (there was an albedo event back then, too... guys albedo brainrot is so real that i might drop the draft i've been working on for the past week HDFJWHKFWL), and now the snow has melted haha. great timing to finish the work i guess (,:

☆ i also forgot citlali existed at first ): literally wrote 300 words about "the poeple of the nation of war doesn't have a place for love" theory...

☆ nevermind that, hope you enjoyed it !

[suugarbabe]

slytherin boys x reader x friends!golden trio

summary: you invite the golden trio to a party and enzo tries to lighten up the party

warnings: mentions of weed

an: I really am gonna have to make a masterlist of all our yaps @musingsofahufflepuff <333

Your hand waved wildly in the air, catching the attention of the three people that seemed wildly out of place near the common room entrance. “I cannot fucking believe you invited them,” Mattheo’s arms crossed over his chest as he shook his head. Theo slung an arm over his shoulder, “It will be alright, compagno. We’ll get them many drinks, show of a very good time.”

Mattheo simply rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Teddy.” Theo flicked the back of Mattheo’s ear for use of the nickname, causing them to start bickering back and forth just as your three guests managed to make their way over to where your little group was gathered. “Erm, are we interrupting something?” Ron glanced at Mattheo and Theo with an unsure look, but you waved them off, “Oh, it’s fine. They’re usually like that.”

Ron gave Harry a sideways glance as Hermione spoke up, “Thanks for inviting us, we don’t usually come to parties much.” You nodded with a smile, “This one will be good, you guys will have a great time. You want a drink?” The three of them nodded enthusiastically, even Hermione, which was shocking to the rest of your friends.

You knew it wasn’t typical to have them here, in the Slytherin common room let alone a party. But you had a few classes with Hermione, and got paired with Harry for your last potions project and personally you found them both pleasant enough. You thought they might enjoy some time to relax, let loose, especially with exams coming up at the end of the month.

You led the trio back to your little circle, all of whom were seeming a little more relaxed at the idea of ‘the golden trio’ being in their sacred space than a few minutes before. As you approached the group, Enzo was smiling suspiciously. “What’re you up to, Berk?” Enzo held his hand to his chest in mock offense, “Me? Up to something? You must have me confused with Matt.”

Enzo then pulled a small package out of his jeans pocket and dumped a lone gummy into his palm before taking it and biting off half. “Now…who’s gonna take the other half of this thing, I can’t enjoy the party alone. Potter? Weasley?” Enzo wiggled his eyebrows while holding the half a gummy in his outstretched palm.

Both Gryffindor boys shook their heads, avoiding answering directly by taking large drinks from their cups. “I don’t know if you guys have ever done edibles before but he’s being generous only offering you half, most of the stuff he takes he makes on his own and it’ll fuck you up completely.”

Harry and Ron were adamant in their denials before Hermione stepped up to grab the edible from his hand. Enzo was quick to pull it away in a closed fist, “Woah, hold on, Granger. I don’t think you really want this.” Hermione simply rolled her eyes with a groan, “I know exactly what that’ll do and I need it immediately. Especially with these bloody NEWTS coming up, I’m stressed to hell. Hand it over. Now, Berkshire.”

Mattheo let out a low whistle, “Fucking Salazar, did that just come out of Granger’s mouth?” Enzo was beaming, holding his fist out before slowly opening it up again before Hermione’s face, “Here you go, darling. Made it myself, so I’ll be eagerly awaiting a review from you tomorrow. What’s your record for an essay…12 feet of parchment?”

“Oh fuck off, Enzo,” Hermione snatched the gummy from his palm and tossed it in her mouth. Ron and Harry looked on, gobsmacked. “‘Mione..what are you doing?” Ron placed a hand on her shoulder in concern. Hermione huffed, crossing her arms, “Honestly, Ronald..if I’m going to trust any of them, it might as well be Berkshire. Look a him,” she gestured to Enzo who then gave Ron a sweet smile, batting his eyelashes at the boy, “he’s basically a puppy dog.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, still slightly in disbelief yourself a Hermione’s blind trust, “Oh..baby girl…no. No, no, no, you’ve got the wrong one. Enzo is not to be trusted, weren’t you listening earlier?”

Enzo then grabbed Hermione by the shoulders with heighten enthusiasm, “Tonight’s gonna be so fun, Granger. Just you wait.” Mattheo gave Enzo a shove, “Fun? What do you mean fun?? Those fucking things you make have almost killed me twice!”

“What?!” Ron was rightfully panicked, giving Hermione a pleading look. “Hermione, if even his friends are warning you, maybe you should just sit down or something, let it hit you and then ride it out and sleep it off or whatever,” Harry started looking around the room for an unoccupied sofa.

Hermione, however, stood her ground, “You guys are being ridiculous. Kind of babies actually.” Enzo actually laughed out loud, slinging his arm over her shoulder with a cheeky grin, “That’s my girl…can’t wait for this to really hit us.”

You looked over at Mattheo who finally threw his hands up slightly in defeat, turning instead to make conversation with Theo. Then you looked over at Harry and Ron apologetically, “I’m really sorry for whatever is about to happen in forty-five to sixty minutes.”

It actually only took around thirty minutes for Enzo’s homemade edible to settle for her; and the reaction was vastly different than any of you could have expected.

Hermione essentially had a very high Enzo trapped on the nearest sofa, ranting profusely. “I mean seriously, Lorenzo…why do we even still use quills in the wizarding world? We have all this magic and advancements it gives us, but we have to dip a birds feather in ink over and over to write an essay? I mean, have you guys never heard of a pen before? Or gods, a freaking pencil? It’s so much easier, lasts so much longer. You can go to a corner store and buy a pack of five for less than two pounds. You guys really are wasting more money by keeping this worldly advancement to the muggles alone.”

Enzo sat facing her, eyes completely void as he stared in her general direction, but you weren’t even sure he was hearing her completely. Sure, he nodded every so often, but her words were not being heard in the slightest. And that fact was completely irrelevant as Hermione just kept. on. talking.

You had one arm crossed over your chest as you held your drink, “You know, she’s actually not wrong.” Harry nodded, “Actually, I have wondered that as well. It is kind of odd we’re doing this sort of medieval thing with the quills and ink pots.” Mattheo then leaned down between the two of you, taking a long sip of his drink before asking, “What the fuck is a pen?”

[elodieunderglass]

I can't resist bothering you with more questions. I'm sorry! I want to put Killie in a basket and carry him around with me like a purse dog. Did Charlie always know that he wasn't going to be a horse pilot forever and that he would find a way out of his family's net, or was he never going to escape if him being kicked out hadn't forced him into it? My heart breaks for him a bit, even though he seems the most well-adjusted person in that family. How old was he when he ended up on his own?

(In reference to Killie the jockey OC, crown prince of a horse-obsessed family, and his identical twin brother Charlie, who was disowned/ escaped the orbit of the Horse Planet)

You are never a bother. Nobody could be anything but grateful to have such insightful, brave, witty and inspiring people to talk about their OCs with! Are you kidding?

That’s such a good and deep question - I don’t think that Charlie knows the answer himself. He certainly was quite a talented apprentice jockey. In terms of his place in the family, his parents and siblings all adored him - he is warm and charming and funny - and thought they understood him. He has that special child-of-rotten-parents survival-mode sensitivity to reading a room, that in Charlie translates into useful skills, like “changing the mood of the room” and “sensing what people want him to say”.

But Charlie has a strong sense of identity, and with it, a hard internal limit on personal sacrifice; there are parts of Charlie you can’t have.

And despite being a fifth-generation jockey of impeccable pedigree, the whole “stoic, fearless, impervious to pain” thing appears to be a state of mind - not a physiology thing, but a mental one, engendered by passion for the sport. Charlie has had passages of his life where he’s carried off the Jockey Constitution (TM), but a problem with armouring yourself with a mental state is that if you are an especially clever little liar yourself, like Charlie, you catch on to the trick.

And the sport is inextricable from the horses in their family. So Charlie stormed out (was thrown out) of both family and sport… but I think he does like horses and he was good at it. And it would’ve been hard, in that family, in that immersive and passionate world, to break out naturally - especially when you are so beautifully built for it. It would again come down to Charlie’s strong sense of self.

I think a lot of his sense of identity and resistance came, early on, from connecting honestly with his bisexuality. He’s clever and sneaky, and likes mind games and code-switching and putting on characters, and when he realised the necessity of masking early on, it felt like a secret identity. He was simply Built Different, and couldn’t change it, so he made a game of tap-dancing on the tightrope.

Then he left to build that secret identity into his real self, on purpose, and he threw himself into The Opposite of Being a Jockey. He was not only the first in their family to go to university, he went into academia. He covered his bills by bartending and busking (take that, Dad). He eats cake. He is valued for his mind and brain. He is NOT COMPETITIVE AT ALL. HE’S COLLABORATIVE, EVEN.

…He was just about eighteen. And perhaps it affected him more deeply than he’d say. But what saved him - what always would save Charlie - was a sense of identity.

[serpentface]

What do Brakul and Janeys see in each other?

(I wrote some of this in quasi-character voice/pov on impulse (in brackets), though don't take it as actual dialogue. They wouldn't outright say most of this.)

WHAT JANEYS SEES IN BRAKUL:

-[He is just objectively beautiful. There's no way around it, this is just a material fact. He has the prettiest brown eyes and a cute gap in his teeth and he's 6'2'' and he's big and strong and hairy and well endowed (balls) and sooo virile and 6'2''. This is the ideal male body at peak performance so it's just inevitable to be wildly, painfully attracted to it. There's probably tons of other people who want to shove their face into his armpits.]

[But they don't get to.]

-Janeys is significantly more at ease with him than almost anyone else. He doesn't feel such an acute need to posture and put on performances, or as devastating shame when the performance 'fails'. The psychological factors that motivate this to begin with don't just like, magically go away, but they're much less acute. He feels like he can just Exist around him. It's nice.

-Thinks he's a really funny, smart and interesting person general. Very pleasant to talk and amicably argue with. Janeys finds a lot of things he never would have given a shit about suddenly very interesting because it's coming from him. Like 'yeah he's not EDUCATED per se but he has a fascinating repository of knowledge about like, cheesemaking and birds and freakish snow vampires and the many nuances of highland seasonal transhumance.'

-Janeys sees a lot of things in Brakul that he finds lacking in himself, and experiences a sense of being more complete, better, stronger, via this partnership (somewhat literally, sharing blood Is sharing spirit). He feels genuinely more confident around him, not just in his typical "I'm Confident that my family name and Odonii bloodkin status can force some deference out of you" way but like legit confidence. Not the healthiest way to develop self esteem and not put to the best uses but it is what it is.

-Matches his freak and exceeds it in strange and compelling ways

-Meshes Fairly well with his clingy attachment style (it causes friction sometimes though) and meets his substantial needs for physical affection and casual intimacy (at least in private).

-[He's a really, really, really good kisser]

-[He is my closest and most trusted friend, my brother. He's like how the most florid love poets describe their wives, except if a wife was a man and wasn't someone you had to marry. No one has ever loved a man like I have. No one has shared a spirit like I have. The concept of life without him is no longer imaginable, he is carved into my very skin, he's in my veins, mouth, hands. He is my natural compliment and easiest companion. My beloved, my heart, my blood, my other face.]

-[He's 6'2'']

---

WHAT BRAKUL SEES IN JANEYS:

-[He's very good looking, in kind of a subtle way. Like you don't necessarily notice at first, but he's got this sort of... sturdy yet gracile handsomeness to him? Like a deer, or a small to mid-sized bird of prey. Except attractive and a man. Very attractive. He has such a nice smile and the most gorgeous legs, and a cute little trail of hair up his stomach. Nice hands. And feet. Sturdy. Lovely hair. His eyes are just kind of scary but, otherwise.]

-[He's actually soooo nice when you get to know him. He is one of the sweetest and most caring people I've ever met, actually.]

[Sure he's kind of an asshole. To most people. On most occasions. But have you considered that THEIR vibes are, very often, simply bad and offputting, and maybe it's sometimes their faults for being irritating? Yeah. Think a little.]

-Brakul distinctly likes being one of few people Janeys likes and one of much fewer that he actually chills out around. He likes that he gets to see sides of him that are almost completely reserved for himself. He feels special.

-Overall sees him as someone who is often difficult and frustrating but ultimately deeply lovable. He finds him to be very caring, admirably loyal, genuine, and funny. Good to talk to, and good to sit in comfortable silence with. He sees him as a very different person but someone who compliments him well. Natural choice of companion.

-Has a generally realistic outlook on Janeys' abilities but considers him to be more capable than most people think and fairly talented in some respects. He would note him as skilled with the spear, pretty decent with the lyre, a good dancer and very beautiful singer.

-He absolutely likes that one of Janeys' 'love languages' is giving him gifts. He loves being the spoiled male wife of a nobleman. He was made for this shit. The gift-giving on Janeys' part initially made him nervous (on the presumption that it was indebting or otherwise transactional) but he is LONG since over it.

[Everyone was always saying, "Brakul you're kinda lazy and annoying, you lost all your mother's cattle in a really pathetic way, you strained the alliances between multiple clans to a breaking point by being a fuckup, you abandoned your firstborn," etc etc but look at me now. I'm so loved and I have 200 cattle and 12 khait and eat meat every day of my life.]

-Doesn't Fully match his freak, but does where it matters most. Sub/switch masochist for a dom/switch sadomasochist. Peace and love.

-Easily flustered in a way he finds cute/hot.

-Really likes his intense and earnest enthusiasm for physical affection/intimacy. The other people Brakul has had romantic/sexual experiences with in the past have been substantially less touchy-feely, and he prefers being able to show affection this way. Expressing this shit verbally can be difficult (with or without having to translate), it always feels a little insufficient. Lengthy and complicated sessions of making out/cutting each other/blood consumption/frotting/doing weird shit with cum/still vaguely sexual wound cleaning with vinegar/cuddling/etc have turned out to feel like a more comprehensive form of romantic expression. And not a lot of people are into that kinda thing, so this is pretty special.

-[He makes me happy. Sometimes I'll look at him while he's asleep or just sitting next to me or whatever, and still get hit with that new love, 'I'm going to throw up but in a good way' feeling, even after all this time. I'm glad to have found him. I'm glad to share my life with him. I'm glad we belong to each other. I've never found an adequate describe it, 'brother' is easy but completely wrong. It just is what it is. I love him.]

-[He does some crazy shit with his mouth]

[koshkamartell]

My first non Joel fiction- I'm a little nervous! I hope you guys like it, please let me know what you think.

summary: DDDNE one shot. General Acacius conquers your village and keeps you prisoner with the intention of making you his mistress.

warnings: dark!Acacius, reader held captive, noncon piv, violence, assault, degradation, pain, choking, head lock, breath play, unspecified age gap.

A chill danced over the bare flesh of your shoulders when the silk sheet was ripped from your body. Your eyes snapped open and you quickly sat up on the bed; you had only let your guard down for a few minutes, just long enough to lightly doze, but now all your senses were alert and tense. You craned your neck to look around the darkened room, your panicked vision impaired by the unfamiliarity of your surroundings.

You gasped when your eyes settled on him standing at the end of the bed. His burly figure seemed so tall and ominous, the scowl of his rugged face partially shroud in the shadows created by the moonlight pouring in from the balcony. His dark brown eyes bored into yours, baleful and stony. The white gown wrapped around his form, leaving his torso half naked, his burly chest and solid arms on display. The greying curls of his hair appeared slicked, like he had just freshly showered.

"I saved you from the miserable existence as a prisoner of war. But do not be so naive as to think that I have spared your life out of the goodness of my heart." His voice was deep and rumbling, with a stern firmness that left no room for argument. "For I am not famed for my kindness."

You knew that. There was not a shred of kindness or humanity shown when General Acacius and his army had invaded your village just yesterday. They had slaughtered almost everyone before burning the township to the ground. The general had found you himself, cowered in an alleyway between a cluster of homes, and he dragged you to the makeshift camp where the prisoners of war were held. He had ordered his men to not touch you. After the army had transported the survivors of your village to Rome he had personally sought you out from the crowd and whisked you away from the city prison. He brought you to his quarters without saying a word to you, and instructed his servants to bathe, feed and clothe you.

You had been so traumatised by what you witnessed during the conquest of your village that you hadn't fought. You hadn't begged for freedom. You had simply wept, silent in your despair, wishing you had been shot in the heart with an arrow, just as your sister had. You hadn't the clarity to understand just why the general had taken you.

Until now.

"I saved you because I have use for you." General Acacius stepped around the massive ornamented bed frame that you sat upon, his intense gaze never leaving you. "I have chosen you to be my mistress."

Tears welled in your eyes and you shook your head slowly, disbelief robbing you of speech. Acacius came to stand at the side of the bed, towering over you. He shrugged off the white night robe and unwound the material from around his hips. As he moved you could see the scars marring his skin, the definition of his thick muscles as they flexed. Your heart drummed inside your chest.

"All that is required of you is to be a wet hole for me. You will remain in this room, and you will please me whenever and however I wish. "

"No," you croaked, your throat dry and hoarse.

The remaining length of his robe dropped to the floor, revealing the soft middle of his stomach, the solid meat of his thighs and the intimidating sight of his thick cock, already half hard. You gasped and pushed yourself to the other side of the bed, panic coursing through your body.

"You have been given the honour of being my mistress," Acacius snapped. "And now you will thank me for being so merciful."

"No!" You cried out, scrambling to stand up from the bed and try run. You hadn't even placed your feet on the ground before he sprang into action, tackling you face up onto the mattress. You yelped as he pinned you down, his thighs straddling your hips while one large hand wrapped loosely around the your neck, completely immobilising you. You could feel the heat of his skin radiate through the thin night dress you wore, as well as the erect length of his cock jutting against your mound. Your panicked eyes locked with his smouldering gaze.

"There is no where for you to run," Acacius sneered. "There is nothing for you outside of these walls. This is where you belong now."

Your body quaked with fear, warm tears streaming from your eyes as you stared up at the powerful older man. You couldn't believe this was your fate; just yesterday morning you lived a peaceful life tending to the village crops, and now you were to be held captive as the general's sex slave. You turned your face to the side and cried helplessly.

"You will come to appreciate your good fortune. Until then I suggest you do as I say."

You felt Acacius's other hand skim over your thigh up to your hip, his calloused palm prickling over the smooth material of your dress. He gripped a bunch of the fabric and tugged it upward, exposing your bare cunt.

"Spread your legs," he ordered.

You ignored him, your body wracking with muted sobs, head still turned away. He let out a growl of irritation and squeezed tighter around your throat, a warning.

"Do not test my patience, woman. Spread your legs."

You quickly parted your legs and he slotted himself inbetween them, the expanse of his hips and thighs keeping you spread wide. The head of his cock slapped against your naked mound.

"Good girl," he cooed. "Now look at me. I want to see your eyes when I split you open."

You choked out a scared sob but summoned the courage to tilt your face to look at him. It was the first time you had come face to face with the ruthless conquerer, the man who was renowned for decimating cities and slaughtering innocent civilians on behalf of the Roman empire. Trapped beneath him like a hare caught in a snare, so close you could smell the sweet wine on his breath, you could properly absorb the features of his face; the crinkles around his eyes, the scar on his cheek and on the bridge of his nose, the chilling hunger that swirled in his dark eyes.

General Acacius was undoubtedly a handsome man, but his looks did little to assuage your terror. You knew the violence he was capable of, had heard the nightmarish rumours of women and girls raped and enslaved by the empire. You needed to comply, lest you make your fate any more abysmal.

"There you go," he crooned, hunger and something wicked swimming in his intense stare. "Such a pretty mistress you are."

Acacius released his hold on your neck and reached down to fist his dick. He pressed the tip against your puffy lips and the heat made your whole body jolt. Your hands tangled in the silk sheets underneath you with anticipatory dread.

He angled the tip against your hole and then drove his hips forward to penetrate you, but his attempt was met with resistance. You were too dry and he was too big.

He grunted, annoyed, and sat up on his knees. He brought his hands to your pussy and spread your lips open with his thumbs, making your stomach roil with shame. He pursed his lips and spat a wad of saliva right at the entrance of your cunt before spreading it around with one of his thick digits.

"Please," you whispered tearfully, a plea for some kind of leniency. "Stop."

Acacius ignored you, focusing instead on holding his cock to press once more against your hole. You were too scared to watch, your muscles tensed for the imminent pain; he had not prepared you with his fingers, had not even tried to work you open, and you knew it was going to hurt.

When he propelled his hips forward and the fat head breached your entrance you let out a shriek of pain. Acacius lowered his front down to hover over you, one hand planted by your head. His eyes flickered back up to your face, your eyebrows knitted into a wince.

"Keep your eyes on me," he growled.

You obeyed and forced yourself to meet his deviant gaze, your bottom lip trembling. He sunk his tip further inside you, a satisfied groan rumbling through his chest at the pleasurable sensation of your tight heat enveloping him. Your stomach tensed and you cried out, fisting the silk sheets tightly in your grip.

"How long has it been since you have had a man take you?" Acacius purred.

Without warning he thrust half of his fat length into you with one forceful stroke. Your back bowed and a scream ripped from your throat, the burning stretch of his girth agonising. The corner of his mouth quirked into a smirk at your reaction. The hint of cruel delight in his expression caused a fresh set of tears to well in your eyes.

"I thought all you village girls were sluts," he whispered. "But you are so tight - perhaps you have not laid with a real man before."

You hadn't yet adjusted to the fullness invading your insides before he rammed the rest of his thick cock into your pussy. Your mouth fell open as you wailed a loud, ear piercing cry, your hands flying up to press against his broad chest in a futile survival reflex. You felt the skin around your hole tear as his heavy ballsack pressed against your ass.

"Struggle all you like," Acacius murmured, unfazed by your torment. "I enjoy a fight."

He slowly withdrew halfway from your throbbing pussy before impaling you once again, earning another anguished cry from your lips. His hand came up to sweep a lock of your hair from your face, an almost tender gesture.

"Is it too big for you?" He asked, his eyes adopting a look of faux concern. "Does it hurt?"

You sobbed and nodded your head pitifully, tears still pooling within your eyes. Acacius cradled your cheek in the large palm of his strong hand and brushed his thumb over your lips. This time he drew back his hips all the way, slipping the head of his dick outside of your hole. It was only a split second reprieve before he fed the entirety of his dick back inside you with a single brutal slam. Your face contorted with pain and you let out a strangled screech. Your nails clawed at his chest like a weak kitten.

"Beg me," he growled, his brown eyes glinting with cold blooded intensity. "Beg me to stop, just as your people did when I slaughtered them like pigs ."

His vile demand repulsed you, flaring a flicker of defiance and anger deep within you. The general had destroyed your home and murdered your people, had ruined your life with not an ounce of remorse, and now he was defiling not only your body but your pride and honour.

You refused to give him the satisfaction of begging for his mercy.

Boldly you flung your head to the side and clamped your mouth shut. You heard him huff a noise of aggravation before he cruelly dug his fingers into the sensitive flesh of your cheek and wrenched your face back to him.

"You will speak when I demand you to," he snapped angrily.

To punctuate his point Acacius began to drive his cock in and out of your cunt with savage, punishing thrusts, his hand still gripping the side of your face. Your vision blotted with stars each time his tip kissed your cervix.

"Do you understand me?" He spat, his mouth curled into a snarl. "As my mistress you will submit to me, without argument and without insolence."

His opposite hand grabbed at your breast and squeezed hungrily, using the added leverage to pump you even harder.

"It hurts," you managed to croak, throat cry from weeping so much.

Acacius yanked the top of your night dress down and roughly pinched your nipple. You squealed and writhed uselessly, unable to escape his grasp with his cock still impaling you.

You swear you could feel the lips of your pussy bruising with every stroke, the contraction of your pelvic muscles with every heavy smack of his balls. Your hip joints started to ache from the pressure forcing your legs apart. He was everywhere all at once, violating each one of your senses.

"If you refuse to submit, I will make it my mission to break you each time I fuck you."

He abruptly stopped his movements and pulled out of you before effortlessly manhandling you onto your stomach. Despite his age and size Acacius was agile and swift, able to utilise his strength effectively without being slowed down by his mass. You squeaked in shock, completely dazed by the change of position and the feeling of emptiness in your core.

He knelt between your legs and shoved his cock back inside you, too impatient and uncaring to gather more saliva to lubricate you. The stinging stretch made you hiss and grit your teeth in pain. Acacius caged your back with his massive body, restraining you against the mattress. He wrapped one arm around your neck, cradling your head in the crook of his bicep, while his other hand grabbed a hank of your hair.

"I am going to give you a taste of just how wretched this can be for you," he breathed in your ear. "Then we will see if you still dare to defy me."

He resumed his ferocious rhythm from behind, the new angle so intense and deep that that you swear you could feel his cock churning in your guts. He grunted and panted like a feral animal as he fucked you, pulling guttural groans from you that sounded more like a beast than a human woman. Your eyes rolled back in your skull.

"This is how whores are treated when they are disobedient. Do you like being used like this?"

The onslaught of his desecration became more intense with each tortuous second. With your body smothered underneath his weight and your neck locked in his strong bicep, you struggled to breathe. Your head began to swim and your lips tingled. Your tongue felt heavy and swollen in your mouth. You felt yourself teetering on the precipice of unconsciousness.

Perhaps this was your fate, to die not by the general's sword but by his cock.

As you started to slip away from reality your imagination projected dream like images inside your mind; you could see your family going about their day to day life in the village, a montage of the mundane happenings that had encapuslated your once peaceful existence.

Your mother in the kitchen with your baby brother on her hip, trying her best to prepare a meal. Your father and younger brother toiling in the fields, harvesting crops alongside other villagers, including the man who was to become your husband. Your older sister sitting with her friends and weaving baskets together.

You could finally be reunited with your loved ones.

Just as you were about to pass out Acacius shifted his arm and loosened his hold on your throat, finally allowing you to inhale some much needed air. Your eyes flew open wide and you let out a rasping howl as you were suddenly brought back to your current state of agony. Pain immediately assaulted all your senses. The delicate skin around your entrance was torn and throbbing, irritated further by the scratch of his wiry pubic hair. The ache of your pelvic muscles was made worse by the constant prod of his dick against your cervix. Your scalp seared from the pull of his fist in your hair, the discomfort flaring when he gave your head a rough shake.

"Have you had enough?" Acacius sneered tauntingly.

He continued to snap his hips against yours, his veiny girth pummelling in and out of you, balls clapping loudly against your labia. A ragged, miserable scream clawed it's way up your parched throat, a pathetic sound of distress and defeat.

It was too much to bear.

"Are you ready to beg?"

You could go on no longer.

"Y-yes," you spluttered inbetween broken moans. "Please."

"Louder." He ordered simply, slightly breathless from his exertion yet his pace never faulting.

"I b-beg you," you gasped. "P-please stop." Salty tears cascaded down your puffy cheeks and intermingled with your snot before trickling into your mouth, stinging the cracks along your swollen lips.

Acacius gave a sharp thrust and buried his cock to the hilt, sinking himself so deep inside your battered cunt that you feared your stomach would rip open.

You screamed again, all of your limbs vibrating uncontrollably. "I beg you!"

He stilled, keeping his fat appendage nestled snugly in you. You felt it pulse momentarily.

"There we go," he murmured silkily, smug intonation clear in his voice.

You cried loudly, unabashed and ugly, completely devoid of pride or dignity. His massive hand moved to smear your mucus and tears across your face, rubbing your shame all over your skin with his palm and fingers.

"You will be the prettiest whore in all of Rome. And you will only be mine."

Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the divider.

[lavender-butterfly-cookie]

Gingerbrave gets adopted by the beasts because.

(somehow better parents than pv which is insane wtf?)

I- I feel like I've done something similar to this before... oh well, here you go butterfly

Adopted by the beasts

Gingerbrave, a good cookie with a good heart. And out of all the cookies to adopt him, he gets adopted by the WORST INFLUENCES known to cookiekind. And these cookies are none other than the five beasts themselves (ngl I think DE is far worse but oh well)

To be fairly honest, he wasn't technically adopted, more so kidnapped. But they weren't doing anything wrong to him or using him as a ransom, so there's a redeeming factor.

Did he like it? No, not at first. He wanted to go home and see his friends and not be in the clutches of pure evil right now. But over time he grew to accept it and despite his better judgment, he grew a liking to the Beasts.

He doesn't quite forgive Shadow Milk cookie for pushing him and his friends of the spire, so he was quite iffy around him. He also didn't make any effort to apologize, so the distrust was understandable. But the two made it work, with time.

Mystic Flour cookie, oh how she scared him. As monotone and expressionless she was, something about her just intimidated him. But he got used to her and even started looking to her for guidance. He knows Shadow Milk cookie was the fount of knowledge, but in his eyes Mystic Flour cookie was the smartest and probably most reasonable person in the group.

He never went anywhere NEAR Burning Spice cookie. And with very valid reason. The guy was aggressive and always looking for either a challenge or something to pulverize into dust. Not to mention, does he ever bath or brush his teeth??? Regardless, he learned that ignorance is indeed bliss, and ignoring Burning Spice cookie altogether was better than running away every time he was around.

Eternal Sugar cookie is just... well... she's just lazy. And being the one to love adventure, the two were complete opposites. So it's strange to see him with her the most. She cuddles him, tells him to take wayyyy too many breaks in a single hour, gives him sweets, and is altogether very affectionate to him. Such affection comes with a huge portion of jealousy when he's not with her or is with the other beasts. He's her kid, he should be with her!

Silent Salt cookie only interacts with Gingerbrave in training. Simply because Gingerbrave admired his skill and liked the idea of a (fair) challenge. Because of this, Silent Salt cookie always held back on his power so he wouldn't hurt Gingerbrave. But that didn't mean he went completely easy on him, oh no no no. He was a mixture of firm and fair, something Gingerbrave both respected and appreciated.

[weiszklee]

I can see that you are frustrated, and this makes sense given the nature of this debate. Rest assured I don't know you and do not wish to attack you personally, I'm sure tanadrin feels the same. My concern is with countering misinformation. I maybe not always pick the most kind words when it comes to it, so for that I am sorry.

But I must insist on my position.

I am well aware that psychology has inherent limitations and pitfalls, especially with such contentious and politically charged topics as addiction and porn. That's why I was rather precise in my wording in what I wrote, I refrained from making too strong a claim, and I clearly differentiated between established consensus and my own opinion. I think this way of talking about it is best practice for me as a lay person.

You do not seem to share this approach, which is why I felt the need to intervene in the first place. I don't believe this to be a bad faith engagement. Misinformation is precisely most important to counter when it is spread by well-meaning people like yourself.

The word addiction is often used imprecisely, which is bad enough, but you claimed, and now repeated, that there is an actual chemical dependence on one's own body's neurotransmitters (endorphins of all things), and I don't think this is compatible with the current state of research. Chemical dependence is not just a rhetorical tool, it has a precise meaning. At the very, very least you should mark this as a fringe conjecture which is not accepted by the mainstream.

Hallmarks of addiction like withdrawal symptoms and development of tolerance are typically absent even in problematic use of porn. A person might become less inhibited or desire novelty and therefore over time seek out more "extreme" genres, but this is very different from an actual tolerance. People often go through cycles, returning to the same kind of porn as soon as it is "fresh" to them again. Or they simply stay at one genre once they have broken through their inhibitions and found the right one for them. This would not happen if seeking more "extreme" genres were actually a kind of dose escalation.

I am aware that some might overcorrect away from rabid anti-porn rhetoric and instead convince themselves that all porn use is good and righteous. I hope you understand that this is not what is happening here. What I am saying is that people who actually do develop compulsions (meaning they literally cannot stop themselves, which is rare, to be clear) are not helped by an addiction model. These things just function differently in important ways.

But it is also true that most people who are troubled by their own porn use are simply feeling shame or guilt about it, without rising to diagnostic criteria.

You say I didn't consider context. The context I considered is the original post's "tough love" approach to addiction in general. It is surprising that this rhetoric, which echoes actual justifications for treatments which are tantamount to torture, did not raise any alarm bells for you, who seems so concerned about the dark side of psychology. How was it my calm response, which advocated for compassion and precise language, that you took offense with instead? I genuinely do not understand it.

Addiction is a disease that destroys the body and mind. They need mental health support from a professional. It is not my or your place to treat them with gentle hands when they demand we enable them.

The only thing you can do for people suffering from addiction realistically as a layman is take care of yourself and encourage the person to get help.

Enabling them makes it worse and that's what these people want. They don't want help, they want enablers.

[vaugely10]

AGHEUAGHAO9HGO9 PIRATE AU!

Maybe I missed something, idk, but you mentioned the divorce quartet in another ask (not by me btw) and I was wondering why each of them are up for bounty? Are they all pirates, or did they each commit different crimes? Like, Cleo as an arsonist or Scott organizing large scale heists or something?

Love this concept and very excited for if/when you make this a fic if you haven't already

the divorce quartet were all apart of a pirate crew together, although each had a history of crime before meeting each other.

cleo and scott were always a pair, committing petty crimes at first, simply to get by in life, which eventually escalated to major raids of navy bases and burning down ships and hideouts of rival pirate crews. they are the ones to invite martyn and pearl to the crew, who each had quite the infamy as well.

martyn definitely has the least bounty compared to the others, but that doesn't mean it's not high. the only reason it's lower than his fellow crewmates is because he's just very good at not getting caught, so the navy can only pin him on so many crimes.

pearl's crimes are...complicated. yes, she does commit them, she would tell you that herself. however!! she didn't commit all of them. she, at first, only did what she had to. steal some bread here..take a sword there..which, nobody caught her doing, and if they did catch her, shes fast enough at running, so it's all fine..fast forward a few years of "borrowing" food, it seems that someone in her town has robbed the community bank, but not like she had any gold in that bank in the first place, so it's all good..

except when the townsfolk start pointing fingers at her. people calling her evil, telling her "how could she," how she had her whole life ahead of her, telling the navy they saw her there..which, she wasn't there!! she doesn't know how to pick locks!! or how to rob a bank!!! but it doesn't matter, because people know she's been taking, and borrowing, and all the other things people like her need to do to survive. and people like her don't get a say in these things. so, from then on, shes decided if people are going to make her out to be this bad person, shes going to give them a real reason to think she's a bad person. so, during the dead of night, as the moon is at its peak, she sets the whole town ablaze. she steals a ship, and sails as far as the wind will take her, hoping the sea can drown out her sins.

and, on the topic of a fic, i don't actually plan on writing one. i enjoy writing dialogue, however im not very good at all the other things that come with writing a story, so ill be exploring the au through comics and illustrations :-)

[morsmortish]

i think we as a fandom need to stop villainising barty crouch senior. that man was put through HELL and back. imagine doing nothing wrong your whole life and then getting everything blown up by your sociopathic son. you lose your family, your career, then your life! poor, poor man.

it’s a common consensus within the fandom that barty senior was some sort of monster, controlling and abusing his son to the point of insanity, and whilst i acknowledge this is a compelling and accessible way of constructing barty as a morally good character who did Bad Things because of this traumatic childhood, i personally find it so much more interesting if bcj is just. a bad guy. there is equal amounts of canon evidence to the idea that that barty had a good childhood and that he had a bad one (none). sure, it’s easier to gravitate towards the latter, but for me, the idea of barty being raised in a loving??? environment makes his character so much more interesting. imagine these two well-to-do, respectable members of wizarding society who have followed all the rules, done everything ‘right’ their whole lives (including the way they raised their son), and yet. and yet they end up with this morally drained, completely unredeemable sociopath of a son. and it’s no one’s fault, he’s just Born That Way.

reducing a character down to their Trauma is such a limited way of thinking about it. saying that every evil character is actually inherently good, just desolated by circumstance, is not that interesting! humans are all flawed, and some more than others. thinking of barty as someone who is just a Bad Person, for me, makes him so much more powerful. and therefore, thinking of barty senior as less of the villain, and more of a victim, also makes him, and the father-son relationship, much more interesting. we know barty senior isn’t perfect- absent father is probably the most reasonable read of his parenting skills- but in my opinion, if there is any character in this dynamic who IS the inherently good one corrupted by circumstance, it’s not bcj, but his father. to me, it’s not plausible that the man who went against his entire belief system out of love for his wife (and to some extent, his son) is the same man who abused his kid. barty’s trial scene becomes so much less interesting if he had been harmed by his father prior- to give him a ‘reason’ for his actions, to say he was lashing out or rebelling against his abusive father, is changing the core of his character! he did it because he felt like it! he’s simply just Not A Good Guy!! and whilst barty senior might also not be a good guy, it makes much less narrative sense for him to be the one assigned the role of ‘villain’.

yeah, he kept his son under imperio control for years, but who can really blame him? the dude was an absolute menace. and even if we do acknowledge his actions as morally wrong, surely the logic that barty joined the death eaters and committed horrible crimes because of things that happened to him in childhood, surely that logic can also be applied to barty senior? let’s say he controlled his son BECAUSE of the things that happened to him- barty betrayed him, turned out to be a monster, destroyed absolutely everything in his life. the trauma of that is surely enough to justify imperio.

i’m rambling on now, and so. to conclude. barty crouch junior as a much more two dimensional Bad Guy, and his father as the unsuspecting victim of his son’s betrayal, reprehensible actions, and complete heartlessness, makes BOTH of them more interesting. argue with the wall!!