#whatever happened to listening to a black woman when they tell you about their lived experience?

[vanilla-voyeur]

Really wish there was a third possible option between racism doesn't exist at all in any capacity and one specific instance where one specific person is being treated unfairly most likely has a different cause given the relevant facts of that specific situation.

[joonieskinks]

"Just Call Me Angel" - jjk

mafia!jjk x reader | s & f - 18+ readers only! | 3.4k

summary: your mafia-leading, tattooed, bad-boy lover has gone too far this time, causing you to go into hiding and try to escape that criminal underworld of his. but what happens when he finds you before you can leave for good? what if he actually wants to show his angel that he can change? 

warnings: swearing, stalking, dirty talk, toxic kind of love, death, seggs, finger fcking, talk of insecurities - but happy ending!

a/n: I recommend listening to "angel of the morning" by Juice Newtown with this lol

“Didn’t I tell you that you couldn’t escape me, baby?” Jungkook’s voice declares from the pitch black darkness of the living room. 

“Jungkook!- God.” You scream in surprise, he wasn’t supposed to be here. You saw his car out front leave with him in it to one of his regular “business” meetings. 

So how did he get back here?

Yet at the same time, you’re somewhat relieved to know it’s only him and no one else scaring you like this. You have missed his velvety voice after all. 

Damn. 

“I thought you might come back around here. Thought I would welcome you home again, angel.” He says with a smirk that’s almost audible. He slowly struts his way over to you, your eyes unwavering from the make of his dark silhouette. As you meet face-to-face again, you realize he’s still just as handsome as you remember and for a brief second, you can’t quite recall why you stayed away for so long. 

“You can’t call me that anymore. I’m not…” You trail off as Jungkook's movements take you off guard, head leaning down, breath that could just kiss your cheeks. His familiar scent hits you and the memories flood back in an instant, weakening your knees and nearly disarming you altogether. 

“You’ll always be my angel. Even when you run away without so much as a goodbye kiss.” He whispers, sneaking a hand into your hair, trailing down to your cheek. Jungkook pauses and holds his gaze on your lips. A tender laugh leaks out of his throat, and he brings his lips to ghost over your forehead. You freeze, feeling his warm lips on your skin again. 

You missed him. 

You missed him so much, you could wrap your arms around his neck and have him right there on the floor without a second thought - but you can’t. You could, but you know you shouldn’t. Your lives weren’t compatible. He killed people, he was in a dark business that played with drugs, fire and gambled in human lives. You were a regular, working woman, not even close to the kind of person who could stomach this constant close proximity to death. 

It wouldn’t work, not in the long run, so you left. Even though you loved him. You thought you could get away from this dangerous life, from the scary man he has become, you thought he might let you move on after six months. 

But boy, were you ever wrong. 

“I think I’ll have to punish you, angel. You’ve been a bad girl, leaving me all alone and only coming back to our house when you needed something from me.” He kept his lips against your head, teasing you with the ever so slight skin contact. He could feel you shiver beneath his simplest of touches. Jungkook knew then and there, that he still had absolute power over you. Just like you do over him. Still have over him. 

Before you could protest, he grabbed you by the waist, picking you up and pinning you to the couch nearby. You could do nothing but screech in surprise, fall beneath him and take whatever he was about to give you. He placed one hand over your two wrists, holding them above your head. Along with his knee nestled right between your legs. At the contact, you nearly let out a moan. You knew you missed him, but didn’t realize that the tiniest of touches had this deep of an affect on you still. 

“I have your passport, my love.” He pulls it from his jacket pocket to show you, before throwing it over his shoulder and away from the two of you. You can’t meet his eyes, you feel like you’ve betrayed him. You guess you have. 

“Do you really want to escape me so bad?” Jungkook asks, and for a brief second, his tough exterior dissolves. He looks… hurt. You see his eyes flicker between your own, looking for some sort of comfort, reassurance. You don’t see him like this very often, his sentimental side. But you both know this will only go one of two ways, and Jungkook needs to know how you feel. He’s showing you he’s still the man you fell in love with, that deep under that tough exterior, he still had a place for you in his heart.

“Baby?” He asks, taking you from your thoughts.

“Jungkook-” You start. “I never wanted to leave you, I just couldn’t be in that life anymore.” You hesitated, waiting to see if Jungkook would let you continue.

“You killed him, I saw it.” You confess. You hadn’t told Jungkook you saw him kill Yoongi at the time. His enemy that consumed his every waking second. You had gone into Jungkook’s gang bar in Itaewon, looking for your boyfriend. You hadn’t seen him in weeks, his drive to wage war against Yoongi consumed him entirely. He would text you he would be home shortly, then disappear for days on end with nothing reassuring you he was even alive. There was only so much you could take before the utter loneliness and worry drove you mad. 

That’s when you saw him, Yoongi, Jungkook’s long term rival, kneeling before your lover. He was bleeding, beat up so bad he could barely see out of his bruised up eyes. That’s when Jungkook placed the gun to his forehead. That’s when he pulled the trigger and took another man’s life in front of you. 

You simply ran at the sight, the shot still ringing in your ears. You never looked back after that, too afraid to confront the truth. Jungkook watched you run from him, and in that moment, he froze. He felt shame, he knew he needed to let you process for a while, but he never gave up on trying to get you back. Jungkook let you be for the last couple months, watching closely. It was only today he realized that he could really lose you for good, and that terrified him. 

“He wanted you, Y/N. Yoongi was coming after you to get to me. He wanted to hurt you and I-.” Jungkook breathed out, letting go of your pinned hands and sitting up straight. He felt his heart collapse at the thought, tears flooded his eyes. 

“Y/N, I don’t know what I would have done if he had got you.” He confesses back, pouring out his heart for you.

You sit up, staring at Jungkook in shock. You had never seen him cry before. Sure, you had seen him emotional in rage, denial and revenge, where he really showed his feelings. But never sadness, out of heartbreak, and never over you. 

“Please say something.” Jungkook cleared his throat, attempting to wipe the tears from his eyes. You jump to him at the sight, instantly rushing to his side. He may come with a dark past, but he is also just a man who loves you in this moment, showing you his whole heart. 

You could never resist him anyway. 

“Jungkook,” you hush, wiping his tears for him, holding his head in your hands. “I’m sorry I left you. I was scared. I didn’t believe my eyes and I couldn’t cope with what I saw. I ran in fear and didn’t care to understand. I was scared - scared of this life. But now I want to understand, you make me want to understand. I’m sorry for hurting you by running away, I didn’t mean to…” You confess.

You couldn’t control yourself around him, instantly abandoning your resolve the second he comes running. Perhaps that’s why you told yourself to stay away in the first place. Perhaps you should have been more careful, perhaps you wouldn’t have gotten back into his bed if you had been… 

Jungkook looked up into your wet eyes and knew, he knew you meant every word you said. He had you wrapped around his finger, and he loved you for it. In this moment, you were his again and he wasn’t about to let you slip from his grasp. He’s got you back, and he’s going to keep you there if he has anything to do with it. 

A gasp escaped your throat the second Jungkook sprung on top of you, pushing you back down onto the couch. He rested himself back between your legs, allowing your hips to meet. He was finally kissing you again with passion, fire, everything you missed and craved over the last six months. You moaned into his mouth and twisted your hands through his hair. He felt good, just as good as you remember. Everything was blurred, and as you kissed him back, letting his tongue meet yours, you couldn’t remember why you would ever run away from this. You were his. You knew it too.

“Angel,” Jungkook moaned into your mouth, and ever so slowly started making his way down to your throat. Your hips writhed under him, pushing up against him for more friction. 

“You’re so gorgeous for me, impatient too, but just as gorgeous as I remember.” He said in between kisses, one arm wrapped around your middle pushing you closer to him and the other pushing your shirt up to display your breasts. Once they were out on display for him, he let his mouth dance along them, and took your nipples into his mouth. You moaned at the sight and his wet touch, determined to get your pants off as soon as possible. 

“Jungkook, please.” You whined. Not having had him for months made you desperate. He could only laugh. 

“I know, angel. But I want to take my time with you, show you how much I missed you. How much I want to keep you, show you that you should stay.” He purred, making his way back up to your mouth. 

“Jungkook!-” You insisted, you could barely stand the foreplay at this point. You just really needed him inside you or it felt like you might combust. 

“Baby, you’re not listening to me.” He took your chin into his hand, centering your focus on him again. “Do I have to shut you up?” He smirked, looking into your eyes which were entirely dilated. “Be a good girl and take my finger in.” Jungkook slipped his pointer into your mouth, lubricating it. You immediately wrapped your lips around it and swirled your tongue around it. 

“Shit- The things you do to me, baby. Can you feel how hard you make me?” He pushed his covered length into your core, both of you sucking in air at the friction. 

“Slide your skirt up for me, angel.” He demanded, and you swear you never moved faster. 

“Oh. You dirty girl, Y/N.” He tsked as he realized you came all this way without wearing any underwear. Just for him. He glanced up at you, smiling. A genuine smile, and you couldn’t help but smile and giggle back. 

You planned for this, just in case. 

Nothing could encourage Jungkook to continue more than knowing his angel still wanted him, still planned to have him. 

“What can I say,” you started. “I can’t resist you, Jeon Jungkook.” You teased.

“God. I’m going to absolutely ruin you.” He bit his lips in anticipation and brought his mouth up to kiss you once more. He let his wet finger dance against your exposed core, playing with your clit and into your slit. Your back arched at the touch you had just nearly forgotten. 

“Jungkook!” You moaned, the tiniest of his touches setting you off. 

If you were already like this now, what were you going to be like in 5 minutes? 

“I think you’ve missed me, haven’t you, baby?” He kissed your mouth, swallowing your moans as his finger entered you. Pushing inside you, your brain shut down at the pleasure. You could do nothing but take it, Jungkook had this power over you. There was no doubt. 

“Tell me.” He encouraged, as he began slowly slipping his finger in and out of you. 

“Yes-“ you breathe, unable to think straight. 

“Yes what, baby?” He asked as he added another finger, filling you up even more. 

“Please, don’t stop-” Your heavy breaths cutting you off, trying to focus but unable to.

“Should I fuck you stupid, baby girl?” Jungkook purred, taking his tongue to your ear, letting the shivers travel down through your body.

“Yes, yes!” You exclaim, not caring about the consequences in the slightest, all you want is him. The familiarity of your lover's arms, kiss and length. Him.

Jungkook then moved quickly to take his pants off, freeing him from his restraints and that much closer to actually having him inside you once again. It felt exhilarating, and forbidden, perhaps that’s why you craved it even more. 

Maybe you would feel silly about it later, however you now find yourself unable to take your eyes off of him while he strips for you. His strong stomach, tattoos that decorated his whole body, his hips, his weight that now settled on you and his large length now sliding up and down your aching hole. 

“Ready, baby?” Jungkook asked, kissing your neck and sliding his length up and down to gather your wetness. “God, you’re so wet, you’re dripping all over me.” He cooed, glancing down to see the mess you’ve made all over him. 

You could only focus on the feeling of him just barely entering you, only for his tip to pull out again. Your body was writhing under him, his arms locking your frame in place. 

“Please, Jungkook. I need you.” You whimpered, your fingers sliding up to his back, nails ever so slightly digging into his skin. You remembered how it drove him crazy over you. 

“Fuck, baby, okay.” He captured his lips with yours, finally pushing into you and bottoming out immediately. You gasped and clenched around him, squeezing him.

“Shit, don’t do that, baby girl. I’ll finish too quickly. You feel so good, just like I remember.” Jungkook kissed your cheeks, trying to distract himself from finishing inside you already. 

Finally, you began to relax around his length, needing him to move inside you and take you already. 

“Please- please move.” You encouraged, kissing his arms around your head that held him above you. 

“Okay, baby. I got you.” He purred, dropping to his elbows to get closer to you, moving his hips in the slightest. Immediately, you reacted to his touch, preparing to take him over and over again. God, how you missed him.

Jungkook set a brutal pace, barely preparing you for his hips running into yours repeatedly. However you could do nothing but take it, just how you liked it. It felt so good to have him take control and spoil you again. He was so strong, so caring in the moment like this. This, this was the Jungkook you knew and loved. He’s always there, like this, somewhere beneath the surface - you just hoped it could stay like this forever. 

You were taken from your thoughts and he plunged himself so deep into you, he made contact with your cervix and the pain mixed with the pleasure ran through your system. 

“Jungkook!” You exclaimed and his eyes immediately locked onto yours, full of concern. He then slowed down slightly. “You okay?”, you quickly reassured him.

“Yes, yes! It felt so good, please keep going, don’t stop, don’t stop.” You could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head, you wanted all of his pleasure and you know in the next moment, he would surely deliver.

Jungkook’s concern for you rapidly turned into a smirk and he continued with his pace. He locked his tatted arms around your head and shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist and he began pounding into you. Your head went into overdrive and could only focus on his tip hitting your G-spot over and over and over again. 

“Fuck! Jungkook, oh my-” He gently raised a hand to your throat, pressing the sides ever so slightly. He still remembered exactly what you liked in the bedroom, the movements and positions that had you seeing stars. He knows you like nobody else knows you. 

“You like this, don’t you baby?” Jungkook chuckles, watching your face curl up in pleasure. His length entering you over and over again, filling you up completely each and every time. 

“I’m gonna cum-” you managed to let out as the unstoppable pressure started building up in your tummy. 

“Me too, baby girl. Cum for me. Cum on this dick. Made just for you, only you…” Jungkook is whispering in your ear, his words taking you over the edge as he pounds into you. His length, his lips, his presence, his love - you can’t contain yourself anymore and you let yourself go, the white wave of pleasure finally releasing. “Shit, shit, you feel so good, baby”, Jungkook exclaims as he feels you clenching and finishing around his length. He can’t help but finish too, filling you and holding your body close to his as he does so. 

You two come down from your highs together, wrapped up in eachothers limbs, breathing heavily. It feels oddly intimate, and the feeling of his body weight on you feels euphoric. Sometimes you think you could die like this - Just desperately wanting to be so close to him like this. He’s your love after all, even if he’s done some bad things, you can still see the person underneath the facade. 

Your Jungkook. 

When the high passes, you two are able to think a little more clearly. The haze finally leaves your minds, and Jungkook sits himself up on his elbows to look into your eyes. You look at him, almost concerned, you now feel nervous about what he’ll say next. Your innermost fears and doubt creeping up on you in your moment of vulnerability. 

Will he leave now that maybe he’s gotten what he wanted from you? Will he threaten you? No, no surely not. He loves you, tonight has proven so… right?

“Y/N.” Jungkook interrupts your thoughts, “I can see what you’re thinking, you know?” He slightly smiles down at you, and instantly you feel more relaxed. You smile back a little too. 

“I know, I wear my emotions, you always told me.”

“You do, my love.” He coos, coming to kiss your lips ever so slightly. He then hovers above you slightly -

“...Do you regret it?” 

“What? No, no of course not.” You immediately refute. Your hands come up to comfort his concerned face, fingers wiping the tears that start to pour from his eyes a second time tonight. 

“I thought I had lost you for good, Y/N.” His resolve breaks and he tucks himself into your neck, his arms wrapping around you and keeping you close. 

“I don’t want to be without you - I don’t want to lose you and I don’t want to be a man you’re ashamed of loving.” He cries into you, tearing falling onto you wet and warm. You start to tear up as you hear him sob, the tough-guy persona falling apart as he opens up to you. This was the Jungkook you were in love with. 

“I want to try and be better for you, for us. I want to be the man you need and deserve. I want us to be together, Y/N. Please, I want to change.” Jungkook kisses your neck, wet and all over. It tickles you as he reaches that one spot just beneath your ear, it leaves you giggling. He immediately whips his head to look at your expression below him. You're crying too, but smiling at him, looking at him so fondly.

“I love you, Jungkook. I do. I want to be with you, but we have to try and do better. No more of this life, we can leave together. For good, okay?” You look deep into his eyes, searching for reassurance. He smiles down at you once again, holding your hands on his face, fingers running over yours soothingly. 

“Okay. Let’s leave this life behind. We’ll move, we’ll get normal, boring 9-5 jobs and a little apartment together.” Jungkook giggles, and it makes you giggle as well.

“Can we get a little dog too?” You chime in, already loving the idea of your new life together that’s being imagined up before your eyes. 

“Yes, and two beds. One for sleep, one for sex.” He winks, kissing your palm. He wiggles his eyebrows, trying to win you over to the idea. You simply roll your eyes and eventually nod. You can’t resist him, especially like this. 

“Fine, but you’re doing the extra laundry then.” You smirk, Jungkook smiles softly back at you.

“I will. So long as I’m with you, everything is right in the world. I love you, angel.” 

“I love you too.”

//

a/n: I was totally gonna make him still a bad boy at the end of this, but then I got too soft - ugh I'm a sucker for a happy ending

[gretavanlace]

Poppins (part 7)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, angst, depression, alcohol abuse, cheating, illusions to physical violence, language, drug use (weed, calm down), masturbation, oral sex (f/rec), shitty editing (as always), etc

“It fucked me up.” Jake confesses, passing the dwindling blunt over to you, staring up at the curling smoke as it dances above your heads.

If someone had told you that your night would end lying beside Jake on your living room floor, head and heart still reeling from a most exquisite orgasm and the taste of his own still satiating your appetite for him, you’d have suggested they consider penning fictional novels.

And yet, here you are, and here he is, and it’s bordering on perfect…save for the remembrance of pain that washes the edges of his words in black.

Refusing to tell the story that wasn’t his, he’d decided to quell your interest with one that he felt worthy of sharing.

“She wouldn’t tell the truth. Not at first. Which was a betrayal in and of itself. I thought, who the fuck are you to deny me what I’m entitled to? You know? I deserved the truth…that belonged to me.” He watches you draw in a lungful of smoke and then brushes an errant lock of hair out of your face.

“You did deserve that.” You agree softly on the exhale, avoiding eye contact so as not to break whatever spell has been cast over the two of you to loosen his tongue. “We all deserve that. Truth. Though we so often don’t get it.”

He sighs to let you know he’s heard you, and that he knows you’re right. “I could smell it on her. The deceit hung in her hair like campfire, lingering in her space - sickeningly sweet perfume. It gave me a headache. Every time she touched me it was like swallowing a rock, and she just kept feeding them to me. Jagged pebble after pebble until I was completely weighed down with whatever it was she had done.”

His prose is somehow prettier when he’s describing something ugly.

You can help it no longer, your hand finds his chest. You want to hold him, to soothe him against your breast like a distressed child. “Jake, I’m so sorry.”

He laughs it off, which only makes you hurt worse for him. “Long time ago, babe. She told me, eventually. Told me there had been someone else. Gave me that ‘it only happened once’ bullshit. But she wouldn’t tell me who. I suppose I hated her the most for that. By keeping that from me, she was choosing him, again. Or, at least that’s how it felt at the time. It’s stupid, looking back.”

“No,” you argue with quiet conviction. “It isn’t stupid, Jake. It isn’t.”

The blunt is cashed, and he drops it into his leftover tea with a hissing sizzle, and then relaxes back down onto the rug.

“I asked her to leave. She cried. I cried. She packed a bag and walked out the door. Came back for the rest of her shit later on, and that was that.”

This last bit has truly astounded you. “You lived together?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, folding his hands together over his chest. “If you can call it that, really. You know how often I’m gone.”

“That’s no excuse.” You feel murderous toward this mirage of a woman whom you’ve never met.

“Didn’t say it was.” He points out before continuing. “So, like I said…it fucked me up. Bailed on a bunch of gigs, wouldn’t get out of bed unless it was to wander my drunk ass down the street for a fresh bottle. Stopped showering, couldn’t sleep, all that shit. I forgot about her fish and accidentally let him die. Still feel bad about that one.”

You listen silently. Maybe he needs this…each spoken word feels like it's brand new on his tongue, as if he’s never opened up with such candor about these things hidden. And if he needs a mindful ear and an open heart, you will gladly give that to him. Tonight, and always.

“Josh showed up, because of course he did.” He huffs a breath of a laugh and shakes his head, searching out patterns in your popcorn ceiling. “Asshole beat on the door for an hour before I sobered up enough to hear him. Then beat on it for another hour until I finally hated the noise enough to answer.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him run through imaginary chords along his chest, a habit that presents itself when he’s nervous or angry. Right now, you imagine he’s a bit of both.

“He made me get up and shower. Wouldn’t shut the fuck up until I had. Cleaned up the trash that had piled itself up in disgusting mountains around my bed. I’ll never forget that. Walking into my room and seeing those trash bags. Five of them just completely crammed to hell and back full. That’s what it took. Those bags. Who was this? This guy who sleeps with trash and whiskey bottles and doesn’t shower, right? One of the most astonishing realizations of my life and I made it with a filthy towel that had been lying on my bathroom floor for god knows how long wrapped around my waist.”

Your heart aches painfully for him. You can’t even begin to equate that scenario with the beautiful, cocky, brilliant, man before you. Still, you’ve never felt closer to him, it’s like he’s unlocked a door and invited you inside. Except this time, he isn’t giving you the shiny tour. Now you’ve been ushered in and he’s letting you peek into the junk drawer.

“It only got worse from there. He combed the knots out of my hair…took him forever, and it made me feel loved and like shit all at once. Fucking prick ordered me to strip my bed while he threw the windows open.” He makes prick sound like a term of endearment. “Then he just came out with it. Just fuckin’ said it while he tromped around cleaning like he owned the place.”

You wait while, presumably, he gathers his thoughts, or maybe his wits, or perhaps both…but you don’t push. As far as you’re concerned, you’d lie on this floor with him and wait forever, just so he never feels as lonely as he must’ve felt then.

“He said,” he waves a hand above your heads as though setting the scene. But really, you know this to be a strange quirk of his, this slightly theatrical flare that colors his words when he’s recounting his twin. “Jake, this might be terrible fucking timing, but we’re gonna do this now. You’re going to hate me, and that scares the shit outta me, but you deserve to know, and you deserve to hear it from me.”

“I knew right then, the second he said that, but I waited because….” His hand drops and reaches for your own, warm and tight in grip, like those confident handshakes that seem so important to some “I guess I waited because I didn’t want to know. Two extra seconds of blissful ignorance was too tempting to let go of. Doubt I even got two, seemed more like a fraction of a second before he was out with it. ‘It was me’, that’s all he said because he knew that’s all he had to say. He understood that on some level, I’d probably known all along.”

As difficult as it had been to equate Jake with the melted down version of himself he had described, imagining Josh - all love, sunny smiles, and sweet sentiment - caring so little about his brother’s heart, is impossible. It had to have been some imposter standing in Joshua’s shoes; a monster tucked away inside his brain steering him headlong into cruel flippancy.

It makes you angry. What a foreign feeling when it comes to these two. “It was horrible, what he did to you.” There are worse things bitten back on your tongue.

He’s playing with your fingers now, turning them this way and that, inspecting them as if they’re much more interesting than you’ve ever thought them to be. “Like I told you before, he was drunk and she was somethin’ else. She had the sweetest voice…always sounded like she’d swallowed a bit of helium. It used to drive me crazy, that cotton candy voice of hers.”

A pang of jealousy, unwelcome and unwanted, creeps to life inside you, but you hide it well - you think.

“He earned points,” he continues on. “By telling me…and she was right not to tell me. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d heard it from anyone but him. And hearing her say it? That she’d fucked my brother - with that voice of hers, all honey and sugar dripping all over his name, I think it might have killed me.”

It dawns on you, suddenly and sickeningly, “Is that what I am? What this is? You loved her, and you believe he loves me, so you’ve found an angle? Are you using me to break his heart the way he broke yours?”

The very thought makes your stomach tighten and twist around itself.

Somehow, he knows - how does he always seem to know? - and he places his wide, warm palm across your navel gently and then rolls atop you, nudging the tip of your nose with the tip of his own, an innocent Eskimo kiss that sets your pulse wild.

“You aren’t a pawn in some bullshit game between brothers, poppins. Far from it. But I’ll play with you anyway if you’d like.”

Fuck, the cashmere of his voice, the way it billows into the night like a gauzy curtain flutters in a summer breeze. Vocal chords oscillating as his guitar strings do, humming straight into your heart.

You shove aside all the need he has once again flickered to life inside you and ask, “What happened then?” Your question is meek, as if you’re afraid of the answer.

“After he told me, you mean?” He murmurs against your neck…mouth hot and wet as it searches for places that will make you sigh.

“I kicked his ass wearing only a towel, which didn’t stay on long, so you can imagine how that must’ve looked.”

An unexpected laugh responds to his unexpected joke and you watch him soften…he loves your voice, too. Maybe not as much as he had loved hers, but there is an undeniable affection there that will do just fine for you.

“I made an even worse mistake, as I am so often wont to do. In some ridiculous quest for revenge, I made it even worse.”

He sounds loathsome of himself, so you stroke through his hair, comforting him, loving him this way. Still, you can sense the book closing, he has talked enough for tonight. The wound reopened, split apart and bleeding.

You cauterize it with a joke, just to hear that gentle chuckle of his. “So, no naked grudge match carried out in your depression room? Oh, the disappointment is crushing, Jakey.”

You’re gifted with the laugh you’d so hoped for. “No, babe, that definitely happened. But if you ever feel the need to retell that story, have mercy on me and leave that part out.”

A quiet descends around you like a comforting caul…dragging you back down into the blissful trenches where there is only him. Only Jake.

No peculiar sibling rivalry. No strange twin bond that you’ll never begin to understand. No confusion. No complications…

But never no Josh. Even when there is only Jake, there is still Josh. He lingers in your peripheral vision, a blurry specter watching, reminding. The same way Jacob floats about in your heart when Josh’s hands and eyes are on you.

Jake speaks into the hush first. “You heard me when I said you aren’t a pawn in some fucked up game, right?” His hand is trailing down, down, down, now…tucking itself between your legs, playing with you idly over your panties that are still damp from the last time he decided to grace you with his touch. “I mean, you really heard me, right?”

“Yeah,” it rides out on a feathery moan as your legs spread further apart for him.

“Yeah?” He’s satisfied with your answer, and taunting you a bit now. Sweetly mocking how lost you seem to already be.

“Jake…” it’s a whimper and you don’t care.

“I suppose this is alright, don’t you think, poppins? If I touch you here? Done it before, haven’t I? And he has too, hasn’t he, babe?” He doesn’t pause for your answer. “Playing field’ll stay nice and even, even if I make you cum in these pretty wet panties, won’t it?”

Your hand has wrapped itself around his wrist, urging him to keep going. “If it isn’t a game between the two of you, why is there a field?”

“That’s such an excellent point, baby doll.” He breathes, soft and slow, against the shell of your ear. “Fuck keeping things even, yeah? How about something new? Would you like that, hmm? If I did something new to you?”

“Don’t tease me,” you whine, devoid of absolutely any shame. “Just do it, Jake, please.”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for, nor do you care.

“Do what, babe?” His fingers are inching under the lace you wish would disappear. “What if I make my way down?” Those same fingers are now tapping against your lips. You lap over them and he groans at the curl of your tongue before he’s walking down your body with them like two tiny legs. “What if I just kiss my way down until my face is between these pretty thighs and my mouth is against your sweet little cunt.”

“Oh god, Jake, please…” you’re shoving at his shoulders now as he grins through a bite to your throat. “Please!”

He’s at your breasts all at once, tugging your shirt as he had before until you pull it off. That mouth you’re aching so badly for, closes around your nipple, sucking as his teeth sink in deeply enough to make you squirm away.

“Does that hurt?” He pants through licks and suckles that threaten to tear you into the tiniest of pieces.

“No.”

“Then lie fucking still.” The way it trips off his delectable tongue, heated and unwavering, causes you to clench around nothing.

You do as you’re told and pray silently for him to make his way lower and lower.

Like the deity he seems to be, he hears your prayers and answers them by dipping down to lavish an open mouthed kiss upon you, savoring you through the soaked material that once served as underwear, but has now been demoted to an annoyance to be dealt with.

The moment his lips meet silk, he pulls back as if you’ve burnt him, fingertips to his gorgeous mouth like he can’t believe this is real. Coincidentally, neither can you.

“Let me see, poppins,” his chest heaves with every word, fighting to be heard. “Show me where you want my mouth, pretty girl.”

Yanking your panties to the side you once again begin to beg. You can’t seem to help it, and he seems to like that very much.

“There?” He offers that conspiring, lopsided smirk. “And what should I do with my mouth right there, babe? Would you like a little kiss?”

With a growl that sounds like you’re little more than a feral cat mouthing off, your hands fist in his hair and yank him in with force that catches him off guard enough that he loses balance and sort of falls into place, groaning vibrations against your cunt until they spark and sizzle down to your toes.

He strokes the flat of his tongue over your clit, once, twice, three times, then rolls onto his back, taking you with him.

With you now perched and writhing above him, he spanks your thigh, and, with his eyes blazing up at you, sends you reeling with a gravelly “Well, c’mon then, Mary Poppins…feed it to me.”

You’ve been known to do a stupid thing a time or two, but never anything as stupid as wasting time when Jake is asking for something as depraved as what he happens to be asking for now. To that end, you lower yourself down, head falling back to cry out to a god you think you might not even believe in, when he yanks you down completely.

There’s no way he can breathe, but the way he is sucking you in, there’s no way he cares. Praise and pleas for more muffle against you, as does his drawn out moan when he tugs his cock free and wraps a fist around it.

Tongue fucking inside you now, perfect nose brushing rhythmically over your swollen clit, your hips begin to chase it now all on their own.

He nods in urgent approval and sends his fist flying over his cock faster as your toes sweep over the muscles flexing and pumping wildly in his arm.

Growls and groans of lust and exertion press inside you as he drags you closer and closer to that bright and stunning end. Hands in his hair, you let him take you there. Though you might be steering the ship, he is the sea upon which you sail.

“Cum with me, fuck Jake, please please please, I want it, want it so bad…” have you even made a sound at all? You can’t be sure until you feel him nod again beneath you, his free arm wrapping around your waist to pull you down even closer, like he wants to get lost and disappear inside you.

He has built a shimmering, iridescent world, all for you, but you don’t step into it alone. He goes along, reaching up to grab your hand with a barely discernible gasp of your name, just to save you from feeling lonely in your heaven.

Somehow, when the blurry haze begins to clear your head, you’re on your back again, quietly sobbing for air as your body trembles with divine aftershocks.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he wonders almost silently…face pink and shining with you and breathtaking. “God, you make my chest ache. It hurts to look at you, sometimes.”

Shying away from his worshipful prose, you feel around for your shirt, eyes watching his mouth. You adored it before, and now you’d simply lay down and die for it without thought.

You clean him up. Carefully dragging cotton over his hand, stomach and belt where he has spilled and made an indulgent mess…you contemplate using your mouth, but think maybe the moment has passed.

A comfortable, nearly domestic, quiet takes over until finally, you ask him to stay.

He declines with sweet kisses upon your cheek, and lets you in on another secret - he’s leaving to pay a visit to his favorite tree in the park. He plans to sit a while, as it’s where he does some of his best thinking.

You don’t ask what he plans to think about beneath an old sugar maple at close to four in the morning. Maybe you’d like to know, you figure, but maybe you shouldn’t.

~

The morning finds you showered and a least somewhat put together, wandering through the very same park. Meandering towards the rusty back and forth creak of a swing set.

Josh waits just where he said he’d be when he’d phoned to ask you to join them.

Looking casual and clean in crisp joggers and a band T that you know, without a doubt, smells of fabric softener - he is relaxed back against a bench, contently watching Lil’s ponytail fly as she chases around with her tiny companion - a friend from the neighborhood. He’s the sweetest thing who is almost always happy to let Lily boss him a bit. They often remind you of what the twins must’ve been like as children.

You slide into position beside Josh and he ponders as if you’ve been conversing for hours. “Remember what that was like? Just running to run? Look how happy she is.”

His question is rhetorical, his smile sly, when he turns his attention to your face. “Look how happy you are, sweetheart. You’re glowing. Is it safe to assume that my lesser half paid you a visit last night?”

You feel your lips part stupidly in shock.

“He called me this morning, just after I called you.” He shrugs casually. “Told me he was around and that the two of you talked. I know what ‘talking’ means when it comes to Jacob.”

You shake it off, grounding yourself by watching his lovely daughter rather than the twinkling accusations in his eyes. “We did talk.”

“Amongst other things, I’m sure.” He blows right by his own comment and leans in a little closer. “Do you think less of me now? Now that you know exactly what I did to him? Because you should.”

“No.” You answer without hesitation, and truthfully. “And he said he did something even worse, so it seems to me like you two are even.”

“Even?” There’s a disgruntled edge to his tone, but instinctively, you understand that his disgust is centered squarely upon himself. “We’ll never be even. Not after what he gave me to make things right.”

You squint into his eyes, trying to piece together the puzzle. “And how did he make whatever it was he did, right? What did he give you?”

He allows you to stare a while and then gives you your answer by shifting his gaze to the tiny beauty laughing in the sandbox.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @gretasmokerising @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @thelvnternskeeper @mywickeddivinity @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn @demolitiondann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @josh-iamyour-mama

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Reflection of Desire: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: Women are being kidnapped and are being posed as Hollywood Starlets after the unsub kills them. Washington DC police have called in your team for help.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"Fame will go by and, so long, I've had you, fame. If it goes by, I've always known it was fickle. So at least it's something I experience, but that's not where I live." - Marilyn Monroe

Three days ago, a woman named Kelly went missing in the DC area, and Hotch sent you and Derek out to check out the crime scene late last night before agreeing to jump on the case. Kelly had been found dressed like a starlet in the 1950s, and Detective Croft is already on the scene waiting for you. It's raining in DC but you don't let the water droplets stop you from doing your job. You might be soaked to the bone but you're going to do whatever you need to do in order to catch this unsub.

"Detective Croft?" Derek says when you get there.

"Hi. I've seen a lot over the years, but nothing like this."

"Like what?" you ask.

"I didn't notice it at first, but then when I saw it, I knew I had to call you."

The detective brings you over to Kelly's body and shows you what is so horrible that he feels the need to call the FBI on this instead of handling it on his level. Kelly's lips are missing from her mouth; the unsub must have cut them off. For what purpose? What could he possibly use lips for?

You put gloves on before touching the side of her face, allowing her energy to influence what you see. The pictures shown to you aren't clear and they're clearly out of order, but you try to piece together what could have happened to Kelly. Pictures of Kelly and an unknown man, the two of them sitting on a couch watching a movie, and the man and Kelly in a car with a plastic bag over her head.

You tell Derek everything you see but it doesn't answer any questions you may have. 

"What do you make of it?" Derek asks you.

"Nothing good. Alright, listen, I need wide-angle shots of her body, torso, and close-ups of her face and her mouth."

"You got it." A CSI agent comes over and starts taking pictures of her body. "Whoever did this has a mind I don't want to understand."

Hotch didn't want to send everyone to DC so the rest of the team is in the briefing room going over the case to be prepared. Penelope puts pictures of Kelly on the screen along with the black and white picture that was sent to the police.

"Kelly Landis went missing three days ago. Two days ago, the Monitor which is a newspaper in Georgetown received this." She points to the black-and-white photo. "So, whoever took this, took Kelly."

Penelope moves her stuff around, accidentally revealing posters for a play that she's in. Her face is on the cover, and she's wearing a short black wig. Hotch sees this and looks confused.

"Is that you?"

"Where was she found?" Rossi asks.

Penelope becomes flustered and practically slams her iPad over the posters so he can't see them anymore.

"Uh, she was found in Georgetown, in an alley, late last night," she stutters.

Hotch understands she doesn't want to talk about it and doesn't press her on it.

"I sent Morgan and Y/N."

"Only one victim?"

"It's what he did to her that concerns me. Y/N had the crime scene photos sent over last night. She and Morgan are waiting in the district."

Penelope hands over a paper file to Spencer who eagerly goes through it.

"The body seems posed. Left arm raised... Oh... That's a first. I see your concern."

"What?" Penelope asks.

"A photo wasn't all he took."

"Reid, what?"

"Her lips have been removed."

"Oh, my God."

"It could be a trophy or maybe he ate them?"

"Okay, now I have that memory burned in my mind for the rest of my life," Penelope huffs.

"You asked."

"The photo he sent to the Monitor, the way her body's posed, and the mutilation must be a representation of someone. At least by sending a photo, the media has opened a line of communication."

"Now that he's got the media's attention, we can expect more of these," Hotch sighs.

"Kelly Landis was found dumped in an alley late last night, and I've been informed her body was mutilated by the killer. The FBI's behavioral analysis unit has been called in to investigate. This is Taylor Conwright, WVDC News."

The rest of the team didn't hesitate to come down to Georgetown not long after their briefing. 

"Thirty-three years. Two days left to retire. Not once did I have my name in print," the detective sighs. "Now it's alongside a twenty-two-year-old girl left butchered in an alley."

"Who found her?" Hotch asks.

"A homeless guy."

"We need to compile a list of Kelly's direct relatives, friends, co-workers, and boyfriends. Everyone."

"When we got the photo, I expected a ransom, not a body."

"This isn't about money. It's about attention. By sending in the photo, the unsub's handiwork becomes the center of attention," you explain.

"It wasn't sent. It was walked into the Monitor building. No one saw a thing."

"From here on out, nobody talks to the press. The last thing we need is the media naming her killer," Hotch informs. "It'll have an emotional effect on her killer, but positive or negative, neither one will help."

"You guys usually work serial murders. All we have is Kelly."

"What you have is unique, in fact. It's a first for all of us. Kelly represents someone specific to the unsub. Love and hate in equal measure."

"What the hell does cutting her lips off represent?" the detective asks.

"It's a fetish, an obsession linked either to a profoundly deep love or possibly disgust of lips. As Morgan pointed out, emotions that are in direct conflict with one another. It's his signature, and it's not one on any database."

"The office for the Georgetown Monitor is here on M street. Kelly's body was found in Rykers Alley here. Three blocks west is where he hand-delivered Kelly's photo, and ten blocks farther east are offices of practically every major media outlet."

"Why choose the Monitor?" Rossi asks.

"He either reads it or it's his comfort zone."

"Do you think he lives in Georgetown?"

"Until we find signs of sexual assault, we can't be sure it's a he," Emily comments.

"It says that Kelly lives in Alexandria but she works on the Hill. Is that correct?"

"She didn't have a chance. It was her first day as a Senate Page."

"What time was she supposed to report for work?"

"Nine. Her neighbors saw her leave in the morning. She didn't have a car. If she used the bus or the Metro, no one saw her."

"Can we see a copy of the autopsy report?" Hotch asks.

"It's happening downstairs as we speak."

"We'd like to see a list of everyone you've interviewed so far."

"It's on my desk. I'll get it."

The detective leaves to get those reports.

"Kelly's body was dumped in the district. It's likely that she was abducted and killed here, too. He could be local, and MPD's done a comprehensive neighborhood canvass. They've probably already interviewed the unsub."

Rossi and Spencer head to the medical examiner's office to get more information on Kelly's body in hopes it'll reveal something about the unsub. No one knows what Kelly went through, but her stomach is empty and she's dehydrated which means she wasn't offered food and water. He had to have kept her restrained so she wasn't able to accept anything. The cause of death was suffocation but it wasn't from his hands. You think back to the images you saw when you touched her body and remember the plastic covering over her head. No sexual abuse was found, and the mutilation was done post-mortem.

Spencer noticed something stuffed in her throat which would have been noticed had the remaining air didn't dislodge it. Upon further examination, the piece of paper happens to be from a cook. It's hard to understand the words since the blood and saliva have smudged the ink, but Spencer can tell that the words are typed, not printed.

"Nothing moves in the street. A cool breeze and gentle rain do little to silence Robert's beating heart."

From the time Kelly was found, lividity indicates that she had been dead for thirty minutes.

Along with the paper stuck in her throat, chloroform was found in her hair which is kind of weird. These days, there are plenty of other drugs to use besides chloroform. That paired with the black-and-white photo and the 1950s getup, it seems like the unsub is obsessed with a different century.

You, Derek, and the detective visit the dump site to get another look at it now that it's daytime and not raining. There is a massive crowd forming that the police are trying to keep back, and you watch how eager they are to get a glimpse of something grueling. You stand in the middle of the scene and look around for... what? What is pricking at the back of your mind? Something doesn't feel right.

"Nine in the morning is a busy time of day to be abducting someone. If she didn't know who took her, that's high-risk," you say.

"Maybe Agent Hotchner and the whiz kid are wrong. Maybe she was brought into the district by somebody she knew."

"No one's going to bring a victim into DC unless their base of operations is here. This is definitely his comfort zone."

"Okay, so he abducts Kelly which is day one. On day two, the media gets a picture of her. On day three, her posed body is found here. Doesn't it feel a bit too orchestrated?" you ask.

"If you orchestrated all of this, wouldn't you want to see it?"

"I'll get one of my men to film the crowd," the detective says and leaves.

The uneasy feeling you got earlier returns, and you look around the place once more. There is a tent off to the side that someone might sleep in, and you're about to dismiss it when the flaps move an inch.

"Derek, someone is in there. Isn't this crime scene closed off?"

Derek walks over to the ten and yanks the flaps to the side to reveal a disheveled black man holding a bottle of alcohol. The man squints at the bright sky even though it's cloudy with no hints of the sun.

"Sir, please come out. We'd like to ask you some questions." The man slides out of the tent and takes a swig of the bottle. "Where were you last night?"

"Jail."

"There was a homeless man here last night. Six feet tall with a beard, maybe in his late forties."

"Impossible. This place is my place. This alley's my home. Ain't nobody down here but me."

"Do we have a problem here?" the detective asks when he comes back.

"The homeless guy who found Kelly's body, where is he?" you ask.

The detective looks around, confused.

"He was right here. He flagged down a patrol car and he brought him back here."

"Do you mind if I take a look?" Derek asks, gesturing to his tent.

"Do I have a choice?"

Derek peels back the tent and notices something on the wall. He takes the tent down completely so that everyone can see the blood-red writing on the wall. "Robert hangs in the shadows just as his life now hands in the balance. But life without love is no life at all."

"Did you write that on the wall?" Derek asks.

"Son of a bitch wrote on my walls!"

The man jumps up and lunges at the wall, smearing the writing.

"No, no, hey, hey!" Derek pries the man away from the wall. "Don't touch that, please, sir." The man continues to struggle. "Sir, that is evidence that we need."

"Come here, please," you say and take the homeless man away.

Derek takes a picture of the writing and sends it to Penelope before calling her

"Hey, I just sent you a picture of some writing. Think you can figure out where it came from?"

"Let me see." She types furiously at her computer. "No, they're not found on any database. They are a match the paper found in Kelly's throat."

"The same words?"

"Mm-hmm." He pauses. "Derek, what is it? You're doing that silence. It means you're onto something."

"I'll call you back." He hangs up and joins your and the detective's side. "Hotch was right. You have interviewed the unsub."

"How do you know that?"

"Because the writing on the wall is the same as what was stuffed down Kelly's throat. The homeless man who found Kelly's body wasn't homeless. He was wearing a disguise."

x

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[sleepingdeath-light]

s/o with a medusa tattoo hcs ; alois & our!ciel

requested by ; squallsimp (10/09/22)

fandom(s) ; black butler

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | anime only | main cast

character(s) ; alois trancy, our!ciel phantomhive

outline ; “hellooo!!! Idfk if requests are open, if not please don’t do this thing or whatever idk💀!!

anyways could I request O!Ciel or Alois with a s/o that has a Medusa Tattoo?

(I hope you know what that tattoo means)

Ty! Ilysm and I hope you have a great day/night<33”

warning(s) ; references to past sexual assault, rape and sexual abuse, references to childhood sexual abuse (alois by lord trancy and ciel by the cult — both being either canon or heavily implied in canon), brief reference to canon-typical violence

Alois Trancy

alois doesn’t really have any degree of tact or shame when it comes to prying about other people’s lives — so the moment he spots your tattoo you’d likely be inundated with questions

he wouldn’t know the heavy symbolism behind it, because why would he, but he thinks it looks awesome and wants to know why you got it and who the snake woman is

if you skirt around your answer and just vaguely describe the mythological medusa and such then he’ll back off and hum in agreement before going off somewhere else

but if you’re at a point in your relationship where you feel comfortable enough to discuss the symbolism behind the medusa tattoo specifically well…

then you’ll get to see a very different side to the man you’re courting

he’ll be as quiet as a mouse when you’re speaking, his expression cold and stoney as he just listens

then, when you finish, he’ll take your hand in his and squeeze it gently as he apologises for what you went through and says something that breaks your heart before smiling in a way that doesn’t meet his eyes and asking if you’d like to go inside and have some more tea

‘i was 12,’

he doesn’t ever really elaborate on that and he doesn’t need to in the same way that you don’t need to elaborate on your story

he doesn’t ask you anything else about your tattoo but for a while he’ll falter whenever he sees it — and in the weeks following your conversation you’ll often catch him staring at it with a mixture of sadness and understanding

but he never asks for your story and you never ask for his

because he doesn’t need to know to understand

and eventually things will return to normal, with him being the same eccentric goofball you fell in love with — just being a smidge more protective

Our!Ciel Phantomhive

for a good few years after his parents were murdered, ciel and his twin were held captive and sexually abused by a cult — which ultimately led to his brother’s murder and him forming a contract with sebastian

so he’d be incredibly empathetic and understanding of your trauma — never even considering questioning you on it or, heaven forbid, scolding you for it

in all likelihood he already knew what your tattoo meant before you opened up to him, but he opted to never mention it as he wanted you to be able to control the narrative of your abuse

he wouldn’t have wanted someone to out his trauma so he’d never even breathe a word that could imply he knew before you were ready — if you ever were

the most he’ll do is compliment your tattoo and discuss the mythological history of medusa with you — including the varying tales of her origins — but not going much further than that

if you ever want to tell him the reason why you chose that tattoo, then he’ll sit by your side and listen and offer you whatever comfort you need

and if you never want to discuss it, then he’ll make sure you never have to talk about it with him or anyone else that you don’t want to discuss it with

it’s your narrative, your story, and he’ll be damned if he lets anyone force you to come out about it without your consent

he’d kill before letting that happen — which is exactly what he does, assigning sebastian to give anyone who could be a threat to your mental well-being a true show of ‘phantomhive hospitality’

he’ll be the protector he needed when he was younger

and maybe one day he’ll feel comfortable enough to talk to you about the worst of what he was put through — and maybe go looking for a similar sign for male survivors of such atrocities

but, for now, he was content in the mundane and routine — where you could control what was said and nothing needed to happen unless you, or him, wanted it to

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 12 - Quarry

Quietly he crept through the undergrowth with his bow at the ready, listening for the slightest sign of his quarry. All he had caught yet was one lousy Squirrel and that barely was enough for his own dinner, but certainly not enough to feed a whole tribe.

He wasn’t a bad hunter and of course he also wasn’t the only one of his tribe out and about looking for food. But since Menphina’s loyal hound, the lesser moon glowing red in the sky, had started to behave strangely, the animals of the Black Shroud had become more careful and harder to track down. Almost like they were hiding.

Nhagi’ra agreed with them. Whatever was happening worried him. Something was obviously wrong and the eldest of his tribe had decided to interpret it as a bad omen and spoke of their goddess being angry with them, sending out her loyal companion to punish them. Punish them for what, Nhagi’ra didn’t fully understand but if the wise women said so it had to be true.

But there was no time to worry about this now. The hunger of his family was a more pressing matter and it needed more than a squirrel and a handful of berries to sate it. For a while he had considered going to the city, where the Elezen and Hyur lived, and look for work there, hoping to be able to buy food instead of hunt. On paper it sounded like a good plan but sadly there was nothing other than hunting he was good at which sort of made the whole idea obsolete.

The good news was that Nhagi’ra had spotted a deer about half a bell ago and since then he had tracked it waiting for a good opportunity to strike. He had to make sure his arrow would find its target, this was too good an opportunity to miss.

The bad news was that the animal seemed to have sensed something or someone was stalking it. Always not quite in Nhagi’ra’s field of fire the dear had walked deeper and deeper into the forest and of course the Miqo’te had followed. Now he was no longer sure where he was at all and the deer had disappeared out of his sight entirely.

Carefully he moved through the bushes, trying to remain silent and hidden, but at the same time hoping to catch sight of his prey again. Then he heard a sound further ahead and followed it and finally there the deer was again - standing on a clearing with nothing but a single tree on it. Nothing between his arrow and the game that could feed his family for at least a few days.

He was so focused on the deer that he hadn’t noticed that by now he himself had turned into someone else’s quarry.

Slowly Nhagi’ra stood up and drew his bow, when suddenly a voice appeared behind him.

“Lower your weapon! Now!”, a man commanded.

Alarmed the deer raised its head and leaped away. Nhagi’ra whirled around angrily only to find a spear pointed at his throat. At the other side of the weapon stood an Elezen, staring at him angrily.

“What is it that you think you are doing in this holy place?”, another voice asked and to his left a Hyur woman stepped out of the bushes with a drawn bow in her hands.

Nhagi’ra recognised the armor of the Adders but not yet the situation he was in. “I don’t understand.”

“Were you not just trying to shoot this deer next to the hedgetree?”, the woman asked.

“I was but -“, the Miqo’te started but was interrupted by the Elezen.

“And where are your poacher-friends hiding, mongrel?”, the man scoffed.

“What?”, Nhagi’ra exclaimed as he realised that he was in trouble. “I am no poacher!”

“Didn’t you just admit so yourself?”, the woman asked with a mocking tone in her voice.

“No! I did nothing wrong! I only tried to —“

“Tell that to someone who believes it!”, the man barked and used his spear to knock him off his feet.

Roughly Nhagi’ra landed face first in the mud and before he even realised what happened to him the Adders had shackled his hands behind his back and dragged him off to throw him into a prison cell.

[wintersshowers]

RONAN and ADAM and... ETHEL CAIN

(trust me its gonna be so good)

My thoughts on “crush” by Ethel Cain and The Raven Cycle (because my niche right now is rereading the raven cycle for the first time in 4 years and I just happened to see Ethel live and I cannot stop connecting them) 

As a prelude to my lyric/quote breakdown… Ethel Cain is a trans woman who writes hauntingly beautiful music.. She is religious and from the south, which is a HUGE part of why it is so undeniably apparent to me that she can be connected to specifically RONAN (gay catholic from the south with his barn house). Her music is so amazing and she is an awesome story teller so I hope you give her a listen.

Her most popular song CRUSH is so goddam Ronan and Adam I had to write this because I needed to put it somewhere. 

“His window's already passed, so he's shooting at the glass

Keeping guns in his locker, and he denies it

Like it's actually important, but he lied 'cause I sure did watch him

Showing up wearing black, and he knows that” 

His daddy's on death row, but he'll say it with his chest, though”

This is just very Ronan angst i don't feel like i need to explain.. 

“His friends move dope, he hasn't tried coke

But he's always had a problem saying no”

OKKK soooooo lets get into the the dream thieves helloooo 

Yes Kavinsky and Ronan’s relationship is very hard to define but whatever it is he takes up a lot of his time in dream thieves.. And he loves coke (or whatever the hell he dreamt up)… and Ronan is VERY BAD at saying no when it comes to any sort of challenge from Kavinsky.

OK NOW LETS GET INTO THE GOOD STUFF

“Can you read my mind? I've been watching you.”

“As they moved through the old barn, Adam felt Ronan’s eyes glance off him and away, his disinterest practiced but incomplete. Adam wondered if anyone else noticed.”

“Adam finally sat down on one of the pews. Laying his cheek against the smooth back of it, he looked at Ronan. Strangely enough, Ronan belonged here, too, just as he had at the Barns. This noisy, lush religion had created him just as much as his father's world of dreams; it seemed impossible for all of Ronan to exist in one person. Adam was beginning to realize that he hadn't known Ronan at all. Or rather, he had known part of him and assumed it was all of him.

The scent of Cabeswater, all trees after rain, drifted past Adam, and he realized that while he'd been looking at Ronan, Ronan had been looking at him.”

“When he opened his eyes, he saw that Ronan was looking at him, as he had been looking at him for months. Adam looked back, as he had been looking back for months.”

“Couldn't fight to save your life, but you look so cool”

“I’ve watched the evening news, Adam,” Gansey snapped. “Why don’t you let Ronan teach you to fight? He’s offered twice now. He means it.” With great care, Adam folded the greasy rag and draped it back over a toolbox. There was a lot of stuff in the carport. New tool racks and

calendars of topless women and heavy-duty air compressors and other things Mr. Parrish had decided were more valuable than Adam’s school

uniform. “Because then he will kill me.”

“Good men die too, oh, I'd rather be with you, you, you”

“See, Adam Parrish is wantable, worthy of a crush, not just by anyone, someone like Ronan, who could want Gansey or anyone else and chose Adam for his hungry eyes.”

HELLOOOOOOOOo are u kidding…. 

1st Gansey is the definition of a “good man”

2nd Adam is OBSESSED WITH THIS the whole damn series and is constantly attempting to model himself/who he wishes he was after gansey 

3rd to tie it all together… the whole series its like oh yea gansey is about to die (along with everyone else if we are being real) 

“I owe you a black eye and two kisses

Tell me when you wanna come and get 'em”

PLEASEEEEEE like this is MY WAY of describing the ANGST and SLOWWWWWburn of their relationship. When I hear her sing this I cannot help but giggle and kick my feet because of how amazingly it fits. 

“I only want him if he says it first to me”

"It was Adam’s ribs under Ronan’s hands and Adam’s mouth on his mouth, again and again and again. It was stubble on his lips and Ronan having to stop, to get his breath, to restart his heart. They were both hungry animals, but Adam had been starving for far longer.”

We all know the Ronan longing and it being a HUGE secret that he likes Adam... and Adam like knows and its like lol embarrassing (as if he isn't down bad as well)

ADAM is like oblivious to the legitimacy of his feelings until ronan gives him a little kissssss and then it's like he is all like “what is love” 

“He looks like he works with his hands, and smells like Marlboro Reds”

HELLOOOOOo this is so adam are u kidding

“Ronan crossed his arms to wait, just looking. At Adam's fine cheekbones, his furrowed fair eyebrows, his beautiful hands, everything washed out by the light. He had memorized the shape of Adam’s hands in particular: the way his thumbs jutted awkwardly, boyishly; the roads of prominent veins; the large knuckles that protruded from his long fingers. In dreams Ronan put them to his mouth.” 

“Adam twisted off the lid. Inside was a colorless lotion that smelled of mist and moss. Replacing the lid with a frown, he turned the container over, looking for more identifying features. On the bottom, Ronan's handwriting labeled it merely: manibus. For your hands.”

“Something's been feeling weird lately

There's just something about you, baby (there's just something about you, baby)

Maybe I'll just be crazy (I'll be crazy)

And piss him off 'til he hates me

Yeah right, he fucking loves me”

…… do i even need to say anything??

[mycoins]

Ok, let’s talk earnestly ; Why are you okay with a afab harassing transgender girls? Your bio states you are TMA but you continue to defend and be mutually friendly with a user who hates us, explain.

aite so obviously i dunno who you are and i'm not either of these people and i wanna say come back with a warrant but sure let's have a genuine chat

i know it's considered lame online to ask people to do their own research and actually form an opinion based on the reality of what has happened and whatever power has transacted, but the answer to why i feel the way i feel and think the way i think is just... that.

the trans woman i assume we're talking about lied about a black person online inciting death threats against... the creator of homestuck... when he didn't. she shouldn't have done that, and she really shouldn't have doubled down on the idea that she can't be antiblack (especially in the hilarious way she did it)

what is really challenging to me about this ask is the way it is using its identity markers. you say "afab" like tyler isn't a trans person, you reserve the word "transgender" for the girls you are (i'm assuming, i don't know who you are) are close with or "sided" with. my bio "states" i am TMA because I am. you want a selfie, i'll post a selfie.

i am, also, white, as is the transgender woman i assume we're talking about. an identifier you didn't mention for tyler is that he is black. naturally, as white people it should be our responsibility to listen FIRST AND FOREMOST when a black person tells us we are being antiblack. and yes, that SHOULD trump what we perceive as a transphobic microaggression (obviously violent transphobia we shouldn't ignore it.)

see, if it were as simple as you described it in the ask, i wouldn't be so readily defending someone, but it isn't that simple. because of the way i grew up and the people that taught me to be conscientious and sensitive (all the trans women that personally mentored and supported me were black) i just can't stand the idea of wanton ignorance to the subconscious colorism that informs the actions of people.

i can't really address you, the asker, directly because to me you don't actually exist. the only thing i can tell you is i think the way i do because i love trans people, and i want to be good to people who experience vectors of oppression outside my own lived experience. i find ideas of transfeminine separatism to be contrary to everything i've learned about queer unity and liberation.

do i think tyler shoots his mouth of sometimes? yeah, sure. but that's only an irredeemable crime and "harassment" because he's black and people are willing to ignore his identity as trans. do i think trans women on this site are actively harassed and that this site has a MASSIVE bias against transfem ppl? Duh. But this isn't a symptom of that.

i don't even really know why you want MY opinion on this, i'm just some bitch, but there you go. if you wanna talk more you can dm me as long as its in good faith

[odinsblog]

This stinks to high heaven, or Jannah, or Valhalla, or whatever makes you happy

My big sister is gay. I was the first person she came out to when we were kids, not quite 20 yet. I care deeply about her. And as I matured + unlearned much of my ingrained adolescent homophobia, with my sister’s help, I have come to care deeply about the LGBTQ community. Even the white ones, and all the other non-Black ones too

I’m trying really hard to imagine hearing about something like the Pulse nightclub shooting and somehow not caring about some of the non-Black victims because they might not have shared my exact political beliefs. I can’t. I can’t imagine not caring. Not caring because of something so trivial by comparison of being murdered by a crazy person in cold blood.

Look, I guess at some point either you care about people or you don’t. And if you’re able to turn off who you feel sorrow for based on their race, religion or ideology, then I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know how to relate to you.

I’ve been trying not to post too TOO much about some specifics of what’s happening in Palestine and Israel, but I’m sorry: I feel bad for the innocent children and civilians who were murdered in cold blood in Israel. I know that the “any means” tankies crowd wants everyone to ignore their deaths (or worse celebrate their deaths), but I guess I’m not built that way.

Some of those people murdered at the concert, for example, were not only innocent civilians, but they were also pro-Palestinian activists who spent their time working for peace. I shed tears hearing their family members talking about them. Hamas murdered Holocaust survivors, ffs.

I absolutely can understand Jewish people feeling uneasy right now. They lost a ton of noncombatant civilians —not to mention children. And oh yeah, antisemitism has been at an all time high, unfortunately, just like Islamophobia is about to be. Again.

I might be wrong, but I honestly just do not think that Hamas did Palestinians any favors.

Yes, yes, I dO understand that violence is always a necessary part of freedom and decolonization.

“Nobody in the world, nobody in history, has ever gotten their freedom by appealing to the moral sense of the people who were oppressing them.” —Assata Shakur

So I’m a big podcast listener (helps occupy my mind whenever I’m working on long tedious projects), and I was listening to one where they interviewed a Jewish soldier who was recently activated, but he was out of Israel and had to fly back. He said something like, “If they had only attacked military targets, then I would get it. We got caught with our pants down, and all is fair in love and war, right? But the mass slaughter of civilian families, women and children is the reason I’m going back.”

I wanted to reach through my phone and ask him about Israel preparing to do exactly the same thing to Palestinians in retaliation, but alas I guess I just sounded like a crazy person yelling to himself in my office.

And yeah, before you read too much further, please understand that I dO support the fuck outta Palestine. Let me be unequivocal here: Israel is in the wrong. Israel has oppressed Palestinians for decades. For actual generations.

Remember when Israel literally bulldozed over a woman to build more houses in Gaza?

Yeah, seriously heinous shit, right?

And we don’t actually have a solid count for all the innocent murdered Palestinian civilians who were living in apartment buildings that Israel has been bombing to smithereens for the past few days. I understand that Israel and the West would have us believe that everyone in Gaza is a terrorist and nobody is an innocent civilian, but hopefully, if you’re reading this, YOU know better than that.

But that said ….. I cannot get with tankies—who, safe and sound in their homes, not being perpetually bombed—want to sound “hard” on social media, and make no distinctions with the people who were just minding their own fucking business at a goddamn concert. I think about all of the mass shootings in America (movie theaters, grocery stores, night clubs, concerts, schools, office buildings, etc) and I just cannot imagine justifying or excusing ANY of them because of the shooter’s “ideology.” I know it’s not an apples-to-apples comparison, but it’s close enough.

“If they were on colonized land then they deserved to die” is one hell of a fucked up take. The slippery slope is that if any of our loved ones are gunned down by “freedom fighters,” then we should just be happy for “the cause” and not shed any tears, because ALL of us deserve to die in America and other Western countries, because we’re all living on colonized land.

I cannot even begin to explain how flawed and fucked up that so-called reasoning is.

You have to have some fucking lines and boundaries.

We don’t just do a shoulder shrug when children are murdered in cold blood—and no, I’m not talking about the 40 babies allegedly beheaded, I’m just talking about the little toddlers who were shot through walls and died, and the elderly and disabled who were shown being dragged away. Yeah, I feel sorry for them too. And I won’t apologize for that.

Rape is wrong. All the time. Under all circumstances. Even when it’s happening to people who you don’t like.

Murdering children is wrong. All the time. Under all circumstances. Even when it’s the children of people who you don’t like.

Do I really need to spell this shit out? JFC.

If you don’t care about any of this because you’re “down for the cause,” then you. are. lost. Like really and truly lost. You aren’t a radical. You’re a fanatic. And hopefully you won’t be in a position to ever receive the fanatical Karma that you’re asking for.

Anyway…

I am on the side of Palestine in all of this. They never deserved to be oppressed by Israel or anyone.

Innocent Palestinian women and children are dying as you’re reading this. I’m shedding tears for them too. They’ve been going through this for way too long. That fact alone is beyond being a tragedy.

Palestine has already suffered and will suffer 10 times more than all of the civilians and noncombatants who were tragically murdered in Kfar Aza.

As always, my usual reminders:

The Holocaust happened

Antisemitism is real

Hamas ≠ Palestine

Israel is an apartheid state

Collective punishment is a war crime

Benjamin Netanyahu is a war criminal

You can support Palestine without being antisemitic

Free Palestine 🇵🇸

[shurismainbxtch]

It’s so sad how we can’t even crush/admire her in peace without shit like this being said lmao I’m tired of this debate it’s embarrassing and I’m worried for her …if she is I hope she’s able to live her truth and if she’s not I still love her.

Also fashi6751 whatever your troll name ass is you need to leave people alone you troll.

Now that I think about it ..it’s kinda anti black for religious people to get mad at us for admiring and crushing on Letitia just because she’s religious lmao we can’t celebrate black women now?

People like this are so embarrassing like bitch why are you so worried about if a grown ass woman is gay? They really think they’re saving people and they make christians look so bad because it’s been proven so many times that homosexuality is not a sin and was mistranslated in the bible and even if it was a sin, again why are you worried about what a grown ass woman is doing with her life and under her comments like’s she’s gonna listen to you? LMFAOOO What’s crazy is they let a book tell them how to live their life when you don’t even have to do all that to prove you’re a “good christian”.

I agree with the last thing you said too bc I can’t remember the last time a dark skin black woman was celebrated like this to this extent and as soon as it happens, people want to find something wrong with it so you definitely have a point also because if it was just men admiring her they wouldn’t say shit.

Its sad that her Christian fans are gonna start to turn on her and dm her to try and make her feel guilty like this comment but whatever Tish has a big queer fanbase that loves her and I’m glad that she knows that too💕

[acourtofthought]

You say Reddits and Tiktok are war-zones and its a bad place to be a Elucien and Gwynriel shipper. I've never been on those websites and I'm not planing to but I made mistake of searching "Gwynriel" on twitter and MY GOD it's bad!! Like if twitter its like that and a small part of SJM fandom are there then I don't know what is happening on Tiktok and Reddits!?

You know I always say that Sarah's books reached the wrong audience because of Tiktok for advertising it as a smut books, which they're way more than that. Why do you think when you ask everyone their fav bat boy they say Azriel? Because he has "the biggest wing-span" but what about his character? Nothing. when I first read the books I was ready for Az to be my fav too but all I got was this confusion over what people has been crazy about?

Or why do you think Nesta is now everyone's fav sister and they starts hating on Feyre? Because she's badass and been mean and cruel to every living thing and people find this hot and Feyre decided to have a child with her mate (which I've come to realize so many people hate it when the character has child which I don't understand it at all. Shaming a woman for wanting a baby of her own wasn't supposed to be a thing in 2023 but here we are) and have a little art studio like she always wanted.

What people tend to forget is that these books are so much more that some some sex scenes and supposedly badass female characters.

Don't get me wrong I've grown to love Nesta in her book (and that's because I saw myself in Nesta in so many ways that it even shocked myself) and I'm hundred percent sure I would love Az's or literally any other character who are going to have their story shared but honestly its a shame that these books are reduced to this and a ship war we have no control over because Sarah will write whatever is best for her characters and won't listen to you little idea of 3 brothers x 3 sisters you've been obsessed with like your life depends on it.

And I'm so scared for Sarah and glad that she's not in social media anymore. I can only imagine the death threats these people will send her when the books don't turn out the way they want.

You know, you draw attention to a sad fact.

I do think too many people rely on what others tell them about the books on social media rather than making sure it matches with what is in the books.

It's fine to read all the theories but you have to fact check and make sure what's being said is true rather than blindly spreading them around the fandom as genius takes even though there are glaringly obvious holes that can be poked in them.

Even the rumor that Az has the biggest wingspan, a rumor that will not die.

It was a joke Feyre made to Rhys because she could tell he was stressed about heading to the CON. Can you really imagine her telling the guy she's starting to feel something for that he's got a smaller dick than his friend? 🤣

And just because of that worry, just to get that tightness off his face, even for these few minutes before we faced his unholy realm beneath that mountain, I said over the wind, “Amren and Mor told me that the span of an Illyrian male’s wings says a lot about the size of … other parts.” His eyes shot to mine, then to pine-tree-coated slopes below. “Did they now.” I shrugged in his arms, trying not to think about the naked body that night all those weeks ago—though I hadn’t glimpsed much. “They also said Azriel’s wings are the biggest.” Mischief danced in those violet eyes, washing away the cold distance, the strain. The spymaster was a black blur against the pale blue sky. “When we return home, let’s get out the measuring stick, shall we?”

Rhys has seen Azriel's dick and he doesn't seem all that threatened.

There is an interview SJM did, I have it posted somewhere on my blog, but she was asked who actually had the biggest wingspan and she said that while she has her own thoughts about it (my guess is Rhys considering she said he'd be the ojey thing she'd take to a deserted island) she leaves it open ended for the reader to decide for themselves.

So people getting super obsessed over Az because they think SJM confirmed he's the biggest makes me shake my head.

And shaming Feyre for her choices is someone saying, "Hey! You can't do important things once you have kids!" which is the mentality women have been dealing with in the workplace for decades.

Feyre is a warrior sure.... but there's only going to be so many battles. These characters will eventually have lives that aren't full of war and rallying forces and it's logical for SJM to create a storyline that gives her purpose and a reason to step back and let the other characters shine.

[dynamicentropy]

I shouldn't have to explain my experience as an intersex person or as a system to be accepted/tolerated by other queer people. Poc shouldn't have to babytalk you about how racism affects how people view gender.

Why are folks remaking the binaries and kicking out nonbinary folks for being not trans enough, or for living in a GNC way?

Why are folks harassing cis poc about their experiences with transmisogny?

The current conversation is just as reductive, but with a "progressive" coat of paint.

When you tell a trans man to shut up because he "has a vagina" (real thing I've seen happen more often lately, dear lord i WISH it was a strawman bc it sounds ridiculous) or a trans woman to shut up bc she doesn't pass I think you guys are not being helpful actually, I think you're beating eachother down for kicks.

When you guys ignore anyone who isn't white, and ignore how weight is not only intertwined with intersex conditions but medical abuse itself, I don't think you guys are protecting queer people.

When you guys use intersex conditions or the forcible hormone therapy of black athletes as a gotcha I think that's not only unhelpful, but also leads to future harm.

TMA/TME as labels being used as a binary regardless of intent and are, SURPRISE, being used to attack people the same way.

In case I have to spell it out: Transmisogny does not just affect trans women and transfems.

It affects the girl system alter that dresses according to her gender in a masculine presenting body.

It affects poc with features the white patriarchy considers masculine, such as high testosterone, long noses, body hair, or deep set eyes.

It affects fat and disabled people who have to dress hyper femme or masc in order to be recognized as their gender.

It affects the genderfluid, the agender, the bigender, the genderqueer, the gnc folks.

Whatever term you want to use for the specific oppression of trans men/mascs (not gonna fight about it, not the point of the post)

Jewish and Asian men are often seen as too feminine to the point of harassment/assault,

The degendering of fat and disabled folks affects that as well, all the way down to medical treatment, and intersex/system folks can have issues in that way as well.

This discussion cuts out so many people, and then you claim to push us all out in the name of safety.

Be aware of reactionary tactics. They're in our spaces. Listen to your friends and folks who say you may need to break down your biases to be a better ally.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I’m kind of tempted to get an EMF detector and just walk around the neighborhood with it when the outside is deserted because of bad weather, to see what kind of weird shit is happening sonically.

I’ve continually gotten really bad vibes from a nearby street corner… I’ve astral projected there in my sleep past one time (involuntarily) and I saw some black hole of a creature charge after me. I got the distinct feeling it wanted me carnally and carnivorously at the same time. I had to fly as fast as I could back into my body to escape it (it remained on the ground while I flew). I woke up with the after image of my own eyes staring into my soul, behind a white mask I used to own. It wasn’t like looking into a mirror, though; it felt sinister. I could tell I was looking into my own eyes; but there was something off about them. The eyes were completely devoid of any emotion, but extremely intense… almost as if they had a life of their own behind the reflection; or rather, as if I were the reflection in the mirror, and the eyes were the real me. Super fucking freaky.

To add to the bad vibes: There have also been numerous car crashes at that corner since I’ve been alive, at least one resulting in a woman being seriously injured. Many other times there have been near-misses. We could all hear when it happened— screeching tires, honking, cursing, and on especially unlucky days, the deafening bang of two cars ramming into each other at 40 mph on a 25 mph street.

There is also a sewer drain right on that street corner. It may just be a coincidence; but the one time I used an online ouija board, the spirit (assuming online ouija boards aren’t just a programmed gimmick) said they hated me and that they lived in the water. I refreshed the website a few times and it said the same thing. I don’t think this can be considered evidence; but it’s still weird. I’ve seen an entire family of raccoons in that sewer drain before. I have no idea how they got down there.

I also remember numerous experiences from when I was a child playing alone in my room or drawing at the kitchen table when I would be overcome with the feeling that I was being watched. I would usually come to feel so unsafe that I would drop whatever I was doing to sit in the living room or bedroom with my parents. I never told them why; I just went “nope” and moved to an area with people. My room and the kitchen are both on the side of the house that faces that corner. Mind you, I wasn’t doing anything scary like listening to “let’s not meet” stories when this happened. I was just doing normal kid stuff.

I’m by no means afraid of the dark; but I still get that feeling from the basement sometimes. All the basements on our block have flooded several times with water from the sewers during heavy rainfall because someone forgot to flip a switch for the water mains (I don’t know quite how that works). But yeah… basically the basement is connected to the sewers and storm drains… there are two holes in the floor which act as drains (which is where the flood water came from).

I remember one summer day when I was about eight or nine sitting on the can (the bathroom is right next to my room), taking a shit. We have a tiny frosted window above the bath tub; the bath tub is right next to the toilet. I distinctly saw what looked like the fuzzy silhouette of a man with gray hair standing right outside the window (full head and shoulders). He would have had to have been quite tall, or on a step stool, as the window is more than six feet off the ground from the outside. This dude shouts “Hello!” at me and fucking knocks on the window. I, of course, was startled and also mildly pissed at my dad (who is tall, but not quite that tall) for knocking on the window while I was taking a shit. I got out in the living room and asked why he knocked on the window. It wasn’t him. My parents speculated that it could have been our friend Bob who had briefly stopped by the house; but Bob was a short guy, and surely would have more fucking tact than that. Ever since then if I need to use the bathroom, I close the shower curtain.

On top of all this (completely unrelated), I’ve always had horrifying paranormal dreams since I was a kid, despite being raised without any exposure whatsoever to paranormal media. Also, I’ve had recurring dreams of a warped version of my school system, in which the buildings remain the same every time I dream of them. If there is a pool in any dream of mine, no matter how brief; it is ALWAYS haunted by some malevolent spirit… which is very weird because I absolutely love going to water parks. Always have.

Anyway… TLDR: I may have to banish something from that street corner lmfao

[lilacartsmadsion]

Giving random damn lore to Dark Cacao’s family in Ghosts of Our Pasts.

Why? I’m bored-

TW: Abuse

Dark Cacao Cookie.

-Caramel Choco Cookie, The Founder, was renamed in the official documents of the village to ‘Dark Cacao Cookie’ as such Dark Cacao Cookie is actually the second of his name. His father named him that because he resembled too much of the old founder. However Dark Cacao knows Caramel Choco’s real name so he doesn’t change it.

-Dark Cacao was roughly 14 when he was thrown into the woods by his father. I say ‘roughly’ because even Dark Cacao doesn’t know his own age, his family never celebrated his birthday. He doesn’t know when his birthday is either, he estimates probably around February. Dark Choco just decided that his birthday would be in the 24th of February.

-Dark Cacao can eat anything bitter, while to most cookies it’s tasteless and has probably around 8-10 grams of sugar, Dark Cacao eats bitter foods as if they are nutrients, because instead of absorbing sugar, Dark Cacao absorbs whatever makes any bitter foods bitter.

-Dark Cacao is a descendant of the Foundress, Baking Soda Cookie/Vanilla Frosting Cookie.

-Dark Cacao was thrown out into the Woods because, his brother was born. His brother died during his rampage.

-Dark Cacao is the only son of the village leader born bitter that lived out of every generation , the rest were killed before they had the chance of childhood.

-Reasons for the last post, it was a secret from the village, but there was actually a chance that the curse was more directed at the village leader. So while it was low that the village would have a non-leader born child to bear the curse, it was higher with the village leader.

-As a bitter Cookie he was enslaved like the rest, but had a special treatment where he was nothing more than a personal servant to the Village Leader, his parents treating him more harshly than most. This Dark Cacao ironically, learned how to lead a village because he could do nothing but listen to his father as he does ‘chores’ around the house.

Black Forest Cookie (Dark Cacao’s Father)

(Finally talking about this dude)

-The Leader of Bittersweet Village. 43rd of his generation.

-TBH you won’t learn much about this dude other than ‘time travel shenanigans’ and well, Dark Cacao’s memories of him.

-Regardless he was just as strong as a leader as Dark Cacao, which is how Dark Cacao learned how to be a strong leader as a king. Too bad because Black Forest is a bitch, Dark Cacao never learned how to parent correctly.

-I’m giving him fucking Endeavor vibes and slight storyline that seems to be what Endeavor is having rn. (Of course you can hate him or love him either way I don’t really care, I just find it ironic since Patrick Sietz voices Endeavor)

-Hates seeing Strawberry Jam.

-He outright forgot Dark Cacao had a huge crack that spread through half his face.

-Was the one who cut Dark Cacao’s hair, Dark Cacao just decided to keep it short for a while.

-Died from his own house crushing him.

-Time Travel/Revival shenanigans will probably happen with him and him specifically since he’s the more bigger impact in Dark Cacao’s life.

-Most of Dark Choco’s genes came from him and because he was the closest thing to Dark Chocolate.

-Physically weak, this guy is a twink. All he has is intelligence and strategy. Which is why @unregisteredcookie’s Dark Cacao Sr, would win against him.

-Probably around 20-40…? Idk-

Chocolate Mousse Cookie (Dark Cacao’s Mother)

-Original name was ‘Dark Chocolate Mousse, just changed it because ‘Dark Chocolate’ was considered bitter and she didn’t want to be enslaved, nor did her parents want her to be. (Now you know how the frick Dark Cacao was made)

-She was a dancer for the village which is how Black Forest fell in love with her.

-This woman is a bitch, I wouldn’t even tell you how much of a bitch she is.

-In fact I would call her worse than Black Forest. She never actually loved him, only married him to get into a position of power and live a comfortable life.

-If Cacao’s brother lived past a few months, then he would’ve been a pretentious bitch like his mother, and his father would be blind to that. Honestly either way if Dark Cacao died or not, that village wouldn’t last long…

-Was the second most impactful in Dark Cacao’s trauma.

-Worked him to the bone, was a completely crazy perfectionist and is most of the reasons Dark Cacao was constantly thrown into the cell.

-Sometimes she’d blame Cacao for something he didn’t do and convince his father to punish him just for the heck of it.

-In any case I based her character off of ‘Bitch’ from Shield Hero.

So yeah, here’s Dark Cacao’s family. Won’t delve into Dark Cacao’s brother because he died when he was just a baby.

[partial-bouquet]

“Listen. Mr Zeus… Lord Zeus?” I started. “How do I address a god? I’ve never had this happen.”

He rubbed his temples. He was a large man, imposing and he had an electric aura. His eyes were the color of a storm on the horizon. He had a dark neatly trimmed beard with a little grey in it.

“Listen mortal. I just want my wife back.” He seemed like he was ready to smite me, but I was a little annoyed with being addressed like that.

“A) I have a name my guy,” I couldn’t help myself from slipping back into a very casual tone. “It’s Maria. B) She left you of her own free will. C) I know a thing or two about Greek mythology and you weren’t very faithful.” Oh way to go Maria. You got yourself killed after two blissful months of dating a milf who turned out to be Hera by mouthing off to goddamn Zeus!

Fortunately before I could be zapped into a smoking pile of ash Hera came out of her office.

When I met her two months ago she knocked my breath out of my body, I had kinda been looking for a hookup only. Her Tinder bio said she was 45, and she certainly looked the part, soft curves and lines on her face, her hair was thick with black curls and her eyes were amber drops. That date was amazing so we decided to keep going. Eventually she asked if I wanted to move into her house. Which of course I did. I was working two retail jobs living in a six person three bedroom apartment in the city. Who wouldn’t want to live in the suburbs with a milf who made about five times their income?

“Darling is there—“ Her eyes fell on Zeus and her soft smile evaporated. “Oh. Zeus.” She said coldly.

“Hera.”

I stepped aside so these two could have whatever argument or god battle they were about to have.

Instead, Hera slammed the door in Zeus’ face and gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“When were you going to tell me?” I asked.

“When I got you pregnant.” She replied.

“Oh ha ha.” Hera did not laugh, but there was a twinkle in her eye. “Okay wait are you serious? You have to tell me, I’m autistic.”

The goddess giggled.

“I didn’t really have a plan.” She traced her fingers along my arm and up my neck. “It’s been so nice being with a woman. I was thinking an anniversary maybe.”

“Okay. Do we have to worry about Zeus?” She waved her hand to make the door translucent and Zeus was still standing there, looking like it was taking all he had not to lose it. “No. I’ll deal with this.” She opened the door and said in a commanding tone. “You will not harm my girlfriend if you value your godhood and don’t wish for me to tell all your little girlfriends and boyfriends and partners about how you’re married, or rather, were married. I will involve our brothers and sisters in this too if need be.”

Zeus was stunned.

“I—you—“

“It’s over.” She said. “Goodbye.” She slammed the door in his face. “That should do.”

Hera kissed me full on the lips.

“So, are we feeling like a pizza and movie night?”

I smiled, absolutely smitten.

“Sounds wonderful.”

“I’m sorry I’m dating, who?!” You say in shock. You just found out your girlfriend was the greek goddess Hera, how? By her ex husband Zeus arriving at your door and threatening you to give her back. This is going to be a long day…

[nsfwmiamiart]

(First Draft Version) Incoming Text for Christina Santini (@santinihoudini):

Dear Christina,

I know you don't understand the way I move, and the women in my life but you should know that I have Trillions of dollars to protect and the only way for me to protect my wealth is with my wives.

If you ever feel jealous of the other wives, next time, keep in mind that you can't protect the trillions of dollars all by yourself, we need the help of the other wives, keep that in mind.

You come from a world where women date millionaires, and so you expect me to behave like a millionaire, I'm sorry, I can't do that.

Hispanic Americans are broke as fuck, just so you know.

African-Americans are broke as fuck, just so you know.

The advice you get from them is not suited for a royal family, they have never seen this kind of power and wealth in their lives, so all they do is talk shit and criticize the many wives in my life.

You should know that the other wives are protecting the immense wealth of our royal family and it's a team effort, we can't do this alone.

This is why I'm sending you to Mexico, they will try to kill you all in America, you are a black woman and you know very well black women aren't allowed to have this much wealth.

If you speak to actors and singers on the phone, next time they criticize me, just know that you are sitting with a bum ass hater, who has never seen billions or trillions in their lives.

I also want to remind you that I'm not forcing you to stay with me, if you wish to leave with a bum ass singer and actor, there's the door.

I never force women to stay, if you are willing to follow the bums in the music industry, be my guest, I will never hold you back.

I never talk this way to you, but sometimes you need a talk like this, so you know I ain't no punk, anyone who disrespects me in your ears should get blocked because they are bums.

Singers be like: "I sold millions of albums" - No one gives a fuck.

Actors be like: "I made so many box office films" - No one gives a fuck.

You should know I can be very disrespectful too, I'm very mean when I'm disrespected by bums in the entertainment world.

They all have their mouths open, but none of them have the balls or the courage to do what I do, never forget this about me, I'm a very dangerous man, I kill people in mass graves, I fear no one.

If you want to be soft during this apocalypse, you should let me know because I can put an end to our relationship.

If you are willing to learn, study, be strong, I will be keeping my promise to you but if you listen to bums in the entertainment world all day long, there is nothing I can do for you, they will always talk reckless about me because I have the courage to do what they can't do.

They all act tough in films but once they find themselves in a war zone, you will see their true faces, cowards.

They say: 'This is not a movie set. What am I doing here? Get me out of here, please!'

My dear, Christina, I want to let you know that if you are being soft on me, you should let me know. I will close the palace doors and move on with my life.

I will always support you, you know I will always have your back, you are my sister whatever happens but you will not get access to the trillions of dollars. I will give you one billion dollars and tell you to go marry a bum.

I know you are laughing, you enjoy it when I speak ghetto slang with you.

Long story short, you have to choose between trillions or one billion.

You will get one billion dollars and live with any man of your choice.

You see, I'm not a heartless person, I'm a good person.

Your choice, no one is forcing you. I prefer you tell me that you can't deal with the pressure and I'm gonna leave and close the door of the palace and take the royal titles from you.

I will replace you with Jamie Chung.

I didn't want to talk to you with a ghetto slang but I know you want to read letters with a ghetto slang, so here you go, enjoy my verbal freestyle.

If this was a freestyle rap battle, do you think I bodied my opponents? I think I did. *Drops mic*

You just got bodied, son!,

I'm the love of your life and the other wives are your sister-wives, you should not see them as competition, you should see them as your sisters helping you protect the royal family's wealth.

Don't listen to these millionaires from hollywood, they have never seen this much money in their entire lives. All they do is hate on me to try to make you think like them.

Next time you see me with a new wife, just know that she is gonna protect wealth for our royal family, we are a team.

You should know that our royal family is hated because we are making money during this apocalypse, so make sure you stay indoors as much as possible because the envy and hate outside is unbearable.

Why do you think Queen Elizabeth spent the majority of her time indoors? Because whenever she went outside the palace, she needed at least 10 thousand security guards to protect her from the envious haters waiting for her outside the palace, it makes so much sense now, right?

Envy is one of the seven deadly sins, so make sure you stay indoors just like Queen Elizabeth.

Also, I encourage to you to watch 'World War II' documentaries to help you prepare to kill people, we will be forced to kill people, so might as well prepare to kill people, you will rule an army in the future and killing people will be our job as rulers, so get ready to give orders.

You will send your army to kill many people and bury them in mass graves, you can't be a royal princess and not kill people, it's part of your duty, you will give orders to kill many people in the future.

Christina will also give orders to bury people in mass graves. Our haters will all suffer, we will bury them all.

I hope you understand that I don't enjoy talking to you with ghetto slang, the profanity filled letter, but I know you enjoy this language, so I made this a one time event, it will never happen again, enjoy it while it lasts.

Know that I love you with all my heart, and I'm loyal to you because I know you ride for me too, you're my boo. You are very special to me because you are the only woman with a royal title. So, make sure you prepare for your rule by studying and never doubt my loyalty, I'm gonna ride for you 'til I die. (Haters are trying to kill me but I have bigger guns than them. That's why I'm still alive. They can't kill me.)

Also, don't get jealous of Jamie Chung, she is the love of my life too. She will become your best friend sooner than you think.

IG: Jamie Chung (@jamiejchung)

Jamie Chung will take you on a trip to South Korea soon, you will enjoy every moment of your trip. South Korea is so awesome.

The majority of our wealth will be hidden in South Korea, so you better get used to visiting that country, South Korea is the place where our royal family will hide immense wealth in South Korean banks.

Okay, this chat was fun.

Your future husband,

Angelo (Crown Prince)