#which is for the better in the long run bc they won't have to keep up a coparenting relationship with bingge after their divorces

[stiltonbasket]

One scene I often think about of A Wife by Any Other Name, is when LBH is having a banquet with his wives, and SHL tells him she'd rather spend the night with Shunlei: it stuck to me when she said how, while LBH has other kids, she only has Shunlei, and it made me think of his wives. LBH refuses to have more kids because of what happened with Qin Wanyue, which is understandable, but on one hand, it was something that none of them knew, and on the other, it's something that can be taken into consideration in the future. If it was just LBH, then not wanting to have four kids is fine, four is plenty, but it's not just him. He has another 30 women in his palace, and there must be a variety of desires in them. Some of them uninteresting in ever having children, others wanting them for a rise in position, and others who genuinely want to have them, to have their own families. They are all married to LBH, they can't marry anyone else; LBH is scared and doesn't want to repeat such a tragedy, which is fair, but he is also creating another kind, but taking away the hopes of some of the women in his protection who would want families.

Aaaahhhh, I don't know how to articulate it, I am going crazy thinking about the entire dilemma and how it's honestly sad because of the multiple decisions that LBH himself took that placed him in his position.

It is a sad dilemma, especially for the wives who have desperately wanted children for the last decade or longer and were never allowed to have them. Some of them are understanding of Luo Binghe's hesitancy on the subject, since there were also two well-publicized attempts at forced miscarriages in the harem (both successful to some degree; Sha Hualing poisoned Qin Wanyue and caused the loss of her first child, and Qin Wanrong poisoned Ning Yingying right before Luo Suoxin was born).

However, some of Bingge's wives truly want to be mothers and have absolutely no interest in gaining favor over the other consorts or raising their children to fight for the position of crown prince/princess; and as a result, these women have not seen Luo Binghe outside public banquets for years. They now have no one but a few sincere friends in the harem; and by this point, some of them have fallen out of love with Luo Binghe and resolved to leave him if the chance ever presents itself.

This fic will have a Binggeyuan happy ending, and unlike the very young Shen Yuan who's often caught off guard by Bingge's good looks and charm in many Bingge/SY fics, this Shen Yuan is an exhausted centenarian who cannot and will not consider a relationship with Bingge until his wives have 1) divorced him of their own accord and 2) been properly provided for. The ones that want to have their own families will be able to do so, and many will return to the true loves they were forced to abandon because they were, in essence, compelled to follow PIDW's plot.

[cloudedangels]

Dr’s Orders 18+

⋆⁺₊❅。

You (f reader) are ovulating, but you can't bring yourself to request what you really need… Dr. Zayne has a treatment plan for that... luckily! ● ≈4,025 words ughggh ● probably needs proofreading ● adult!!! ● mdni!!!

Tags and cw: ovulation!: the plot device, zayne, dr zayne cures you of your horny disease kinda, piv, oral (f receiving), mostly sex no plot, in the hospital of all places!, creampie, multiple rounds, fingering, established relationship implied, self indulgent smut— you know the drill

a/n: this SUCKED to write omg omg im freee you can probably tell my sauce was running out... this mostly SUCKED to write bc I am on my period a week and a half early (???) & I have 1 endometriosis (,: this is also my first time writing zayne which i hope gets better bc he's my pretty lil baby, I need him [redacted].

Go bunnie.

▪︎ next up:

☆caleb's very late birthday fic

☆extended leave pt six

☆hubby!zayne drabble

vibrator series pt 3 and pt 4

⋆⁺₊❅。

⋆⁺₊❅。⋆⁺₊❅。⋆⁺₊❅。⋆⁺₊❅。

Zayne isn’t blind.

He sees the way your legs cross tighter than usual, the way your hand lingers too long on the hem of your sleeve, picking at threads like you're trying not to crawl out of your skin.

You’d stared at the closed door to his office ten times today. Every time you almost knocked, your throat had closed up. Your fingers fiddle with the edge of your sleeve again, tugging it just a little too hard until it bunches in your palm. The scent of antiseptic clings to the air, mixing with your own faint perfume, and it makes your stomach twist like a knot you can’t undo.

You'll just sit in his office and wait for him to get off as always.

And... when you see him, you're all off.

Zayne however… he knows exactly what day it is. Five days post-period. Right on schedule. He does the math in his head because, well, of course he does. He’s a surgeon. He keeps track of things.

He doesn’t mention it, not aloud. He just watches you try to wrestle yourself into stillness like you're trying to outwit your own body. He can feel it in the air—how needy you are, how tightly wound. You think you're subtle, but Zayne knows tension better than most. He lives in it and operates through it. And you're practically vibrating with it. The sterile, slightly cold office smells faintly of antiseptic and leather. Outside, the dull hum of hospital noises lingers beyond the closed door.

You won’t ask him. Not directly. Maybe you think you’re being polite. Maybe you're afraid he’ll be embarrassed. But he’s not the one squirming in a rolling chair in his office, trying to fight biology and failing.

Still, you don’t ask. You want to ask, but your voice feels small, unsure. You’ve always tried not to be a bother, this relationship is only recently sexual... but now, not asking feels like self-denial. But you can't.

So he shifts his strategy. If you won't ask him, shouldn't he ask you for a favor? That'd work wouldn't it?

He’s quiet for too long. Not in the usual way. In the way that makes your stomach twist. He’s calculating something, staring at your lips like they hold some equation he hasn’t quite solved. You feel it before he speaks—something shifting in him. Something about to snap loose? He flushes as he turns to you, words falling out like dominos.

“I need to finger you.”

His words hang in the air, clinical but sudden... like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. His jaw's tightening briefly, a twitch of the muscle betraying the calm he’s trying to maintain. His eyes flicker down to your lips like he’s memorizing their shape… a calculation paused mid-equation.

You blink. “What?”

Your heart hammers a little faster. You want to protest, but your throat feels dry and thick, and your body answers before your brain can catch up. There's heat pooling low and insistent.

Zayne clears his throat lightly, deadpan as ever. “Desperately. I'm, ah—struggling. It’s been difficult to focus. All I can think about is the sound you make when you come. So.” He tilts his head slightly. “This is for medical reasons. Mine. Urgent.”

You're trying to make sense of this, he's usually so much more put together than this… you're so horny you don't want to deny him but… You’ve never heard him stumble like this—not even when talking you through surgical risks or listing medications. Zayne is precision incarnate. So when his voice falters, it knocks the air out of you.

“I mean… if you want, I could give you—”

“No.” He cuts you off, eyes narrowing slightly. The room seems to shrink around you. The hum of the fluorescent light overhead blurs into a steady drone as your pulse hammers in your ears. His steady gaze pins you in place, and your breath catches.

“I’m not joking. The only thing that's going to help me is your thighs on my shoulders and my fingers inside you. Repeatedly. I need to make you come, and I need to taste you while I do it. That’s the only thing that’s going to help.”

You stare at him, throat dry. “You... need... that.”

“Yes,” he says, perfectly serious. “Badly. Like, clinically.”

A beat passes. Then another.

“You’re—” you try to say something clever, but it falls flat against the heat surging in your gut.

“I’m what?” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Depraved? Professional? Pathetic?”

You whisper, “Perfect.”

Zayne exhales once through his nose, the closest he gets to smiling when he’s trying not to lose composure. There’s a twitch in the corner of his mouth, and his hand comes up—Hesitant and precise, it brushes your cheek.

“So it’s alright, then?” he says, voice softer now. “If I... lose control. Just a little… With you...”

You nod before he even finishes the sentence.

And just like that, your quiet, unbearable need—masked in silence and polite restraint—crashes into his own. His eyes flicker with something unreadable—pain, longing, something deeper. For a moment, neither of you move. Then, slow and deliberate, his fingers curl around your wrist, pulling you closer. The sharp tang of antiseptic mingles with the warm, powdery scent of his cologne, a strange but intoxicating combination that makes your breath hitch.

His lips press into yours soft and patient, and with the easy state you're in, you're already letting out a soft whimper when he kisses you with such gentleness... touches you with such wanting. You're caving into him as he pulls back, begging silently for more of his lips and the powdery scent of his cologne.

He sinks to his knees, not because you asked, but because he did. Thank God.

You’re still blinking down at him, standing with your breath shallowed, as if waiting for him to laugh and walk out. But he doesn’t. He just reaches—fingers confident, deliberate—and taps once against your knee.

“Up,” he says softly. “Come on. Be good for me. Legs over the exam table.”

You obey because you always do. But also because the way he looks at you—precise, studied, patient—makes disobedience feel impossible. Punishable, even. You scoot back on the padded surface, letting your legs fall apart, and you swear his pupils dilate just slightly.

The paper beneath your thighs crinkles loudly—embarrassingly—like it dislikes what you’re doing. The scent of antiseptic cuts through the heat in your blood. Even your shirt feels too tight, too rough. The overhead lights hum, too bright, too sterile. You feel exposed and examined. Everything feels like too much… except him.

He hums. It’s not amusement, not quite. It’s approval.

“Perfect positioning. Should’ve let me do this days ago. You’re—” He clicks his tongue once. “Edging into clinical negligence, keeping me from a treatment this vital.”

His hands are warm. Sterile. Methodical. He touches you like he’s mapping nerve endings. His thumbs press into the crease of your thighs, spreading you further. He studies you like you’re a case study, a problem he already knows how to solve but enjoys solving again anyway.

You're shaking. “And this… is... for you?” You mutter, a whisper of disbelief mixed with pleasure.

“Yes. Yes, and I want you to know,” he murmurs as he leans in, “that I’m not improvising. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Thoroughly.”

Then he licks. Just once—slow, flat-tongued, exploratory. You jerk. He doesn’t flinch. Just shifts closer.

“Mhm,” he murmurs clinically, like he’s tasting for acidity in a dish. “As suspected.”

Another swipe. This time more pressure, more purpose. His hands keep you open, one sliding up to rest gently over your abdomen, steadying you. He moans low in his throat—not theatrical, not showy. A slip of sound, as if he forgot he could be heard.

“You’re already so sensitive,” he mutters, kissing you now, more deliberately. “This’ll take a while. Let me work. I will get everything I need from you soon enough.”

His tongue moves in slow, studied patterns. Up. Down. Spiral. Pause. A flick. A suck. He’s collecting data—what makes you twitch, what makes you sigh, what makes you gasp and grab at the table’s edges. Every time you make a sound, he shifts technique slightly. Filing it away. Adjusting. Repeating.

He doesn’t speak much. When he does, it’s all under his breath—clinical, praising, a little condescending, always devoted.

“There you go. That’s it.”

“More of that, Yes?”

“Don’t hold your breath so much. Let it happen.”

When you finally whimper out a guttural, cracked open sound, he looks up. His lips and chin glisten as he simply says, “Good. That’s one.”

As if you’re just getting started. (Because you are.) He doesn’t let up. Not even close.

He pushes in slow, deliberate. Controlled. Like he’s watching a monitor for vitals, measuring every reaction, every tremor in your body.

You gasp, nails curling against the padded table. He groans softly—a man adjusting to pressure, to heat, to you.

“God,” you whisper, already clenching. “I needed this. I—fuck, Zayne, I needed this so bad—”

“I can tell,” he murmurs, calm as ever, even as his hips settle flush against yours. “Should’ve said something sooner.”

You moan, full of frustration and want and something dangerously close to tears.

“I couldn’t. I didn’t wanna be—” You break off, panting. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

He stills inside you. Eyes sharp. Lips parted. And then he exhales—long and quiet, like he’s biting back some deeper emotion. Maybe regret. Maybe guilt.

“You’re not a bother,” he says, low. “You never are.”

His hips roll just slightly, testing, coaxing, sending heat racing up your spine.

“If anything...” His hand slides up your side, over your ribs, soothing, grounding. “I should’ve made time for this earlier. This…” he thrusts a little deeper, “...this seems like an urgent need.”

You whimper under him. “Zayne, I—fuck, I want—”

“What do you want?”

Your face burns. Your voice shakes. But you can’t keep it in anymore.

“I want you… you to breed me... please.”

The silence after is thick.

He’s still.

Something unravels in his expression then. It’s not just arousal—it’s longing. A wish he hadn’t let himself form until you gave it voice, like he almost wants your regret. But he nods, like that need—raw, hormonal, messy—isn’t foreign to him. Like it’s the same one clawing up his own spine.

Then, slowly—gently—he fucks into you harder. Once. Twice.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “That’s what this is about...”

You’re babbling now, eyes glassy, breath hitching.

“I—I want it. I want to feel full, I want you to come inside, I want to know it’s yours—even if it’s stupid, even if it’s just my body wanting—I don’t care, I need it, please—”

Zayne brushes a hand over your cheek, thumb catching your tears before they can fall.

“It’s not stupid.”

His voice is calm. Assured. Loving in a way that makes your chest ache.

“You’re ovulating. Your hormones are spiking. Your body’s wired for this. And you’re safe with me.”

He leans over you, mouth brushing your ear.

“Anything you ever need,” he murmurs, voice rough now, strained with emotion and restraint, “you can ask me for it. Anything.”

He pulls almost all the way out, then pushes in deep—slow, worshipping.

“Especially this.”

You cry out for him again, voice cracking, and he just keeps moving, steady and full, fucking you like it’s a promise. His body warm, his voice steady, his heart loud in your ear.

“You feel so good… you wanna be bred, my love?” he whispers. “I’ll give you everything. Fill you up so deep your body won’t know anything else but mine. I like being the only one… who can fix this… problem for you.”

That's spins you undone, and when you come again—hard, sobbing his name, clenching around him like your body’s trying to keep him inside—he follows: gasping once, then going silent as he spills into you, deep and long, trembling.

Helping.

Fixing the problem.

He stays inside you for a while. Long enough that the tremble in your thighs evens out, that the ache in your belly softens from frantic to full. His hand is on your hip, steady, his breath slowing against your neck. You feel him soften inside you, but he doesn’t move to pull out, he just wraps his hand around your thigh, thumb tracing light circles. It’s as if he is still measuring your pulse through your skin.

You’re dazed. Fucked open and flushed and barely remembering where you are. He presses a kiss just below your ear. Quiet and close.

“Still with me?” he murmurs, one hand stroking your thigh like he’s grounding both of you. “Let me know if you’re dizzy. I got you.”

You nod, finally feeling like you can think with more than that warm beat between your thighs.

“…Fixed it,” he murmurs after a moment.

You let out a small, breathless laugh. “That was your treatment plan?”

“Highly effective,” he says, deadpan. “Minimal side effects. Patient satisfaction… presumed high.”

You hum and blink up at him, lips still parted. He’s looking at you, really looking, and not in the way doctors are trained to. There’s nothing detached about it now.

Then, with that surgeon’s steadiness, he pulls out slowly—so careful it makes you ache all over again—and reaches for the drawer on the wall behind you. Pulls out a warm towel like this is just another cleanup post-op.

You twitch when he touches you. Sensitive. Spent. He murmurs a soft apology, even as his hands stay precise, wiping you clean with unhurried tenderness.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” you whisper.

He glances at you. “You didn’t ask. So I had to improvise.”

You smile faintly. “You’re not mad I didn’t say anything?”

He tosses the towel aside. “I’m not mad.”

Then, more softly:

“However…I just wish you trusted me to help you. Even with this. Especially with this.”

His hand brushes your thigh again, this time more to comfort than assess. “You never have to handle it alone.”

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly thick.

“I didn’t know how,” you say.

“I’ll teach you,” Zayne murmurs. “Next time, say what you need. I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of you. Maybe not of everything but… what I can.”

You nod, quiet.

Then he leans in again, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. A prescription written into the touch of your skin.

And beneath it all, his voice—calm, knowing, clinical as ever:

“This appointment is incomplete, but before I continue, let's plan? Follow-up appointment… same time next cycle?”

He’s hardening again, the heat of him pressing against you, but his lips stay impossibly soft where they meet your skin. His fingers glide over you with such careful tenderness it almost aches, like he’s afraid to break something fragile inside you. His breath stutters in his throat, and when he finally looks up at you, his eyes are full of something quiet, something desperate.

“What do you want?” he asks, voice low and steady, his fingers curling around yours as if to anchor your body to him.

You swallow, heart pounding in your chest, the moment making your voice shaky. “Please… don’t stop. Not yet. Let me have this—let me have you—while you’re here, before you go back to work... before the surgeries take you away again.”

He nods slowly, swallowing hard, as if hearing that pulls something out of him. You’re full of his cum, in his office, and yet still... you want more.

“I want to care for you,” he says softly, almost like a prayer. “Let me take care of you—let me make you feel okay…”

Your breath catches, your eyes stinging. There's something in his voice—something soft, like you're worshipped. It undoes you. You nod, too overcome to speak, and he leans in to kiss you again, slower this time. A worshipful kind of kiss, one that tells you that he means it. All of it.

His hand slides between your legs, gentle, deliberate. He murmurs something you don’t catch against your cheek, and then his fingers are inside you—slow, coaxing, curling just right—and the stretch pulls a gasp from your throat.

“You’re still so wet,” he whispers, half in awe. “Still so full of my seed… and you want more?”

You whimper, your head tipping back against the couch. The way he touches you now feels different—like it’s not just about pleasure anymore, but about memory. Preservation.

“I don’t wanna forget how you feel,” he says, thumb brushing over your clit in slow, hypnotic circles. Your hips twitch under his hand, overwhelmed by the desire he builds in you. It's all too much—his voice, his touch, the heat of his body wrapped around yours—but you don’t want him to stop. God, you never want him to stop.

“I won’t let you,” you breathe. “I’ll remember for both of us.”

His mouth is on you again, but not your lips this time—his head drops lower, kissing a trail down your sternum, your stomach, until he’s kneeling between your legs.

“I want to taste you,” he says, voice rough with need. “Let me show you how good you are. How much I want you…You're doing me a favor really…”

He slips his fingers deeper, slow, deliberate, curling gently as he watches your breath hitch. You’re trembling under his touch, the way you’re spread out like a secret made just for him. His mouth moves close, breath hot against your skin.

“You’re the softest, sweetest flower,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with something between awe and need. “And I’m the luckiest man, right here, right now.”

His fingers flex inside you, teasing the spots that make you catch your breath and squeeze your thighs tight. Even after he’s already filled you once, the way he strokes and presses—there’s no doubt his desire is just as alive as yours, hungry and aching. He’s hard beneath you, the heat pressing close as he lets you feel it, a teasing promise of everything he wants.

“I told you it was for me,” he breathes, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “But really... this? It’s for both of us.” His hips shift, grinding slowly against you, the movement sending a new wave of fire through your body.

He leans down, mouth tracing a slow, burning path from your collarbone to your shoulder, lips parting just to whisper, “You make me need you. God, you make me need you so bad.”

His hands tighten around your hips as he pulls you just a little closer, filling the space between you with a quiet, fierce hunger. His fingers don’t stop, circling, curling, coaxing your body to respond again and again.

“Keep still for me,” he commands softly, voice rough like he’s holding back something fierce. “You’re mine right now. Every sigh, every shiver... it’s mine to take… I will be… your medicine…”

You’re gasping by the time he lowers his head again, mouth capturing yours in a deep, consuming kiss, and the taste of him—wanting, claiming—makes you lose the last grip you had on control.

His body is all fire and weight pressing down on you, filling the spaces inside you you didn’t even know were empty until now.

“More,” he whispers between kisses. “Always more.”

And you’re his, completely. The ache inside you answered at last.

His rhythm builds, fingers still buried deep while his other hand cradles your face—thumb brushing slow circles across your cheek, grounding you in the chaos he’s coaxing from your body. Every stroke inside you is purposeful, practiced, but full of reverence, like he’s trying to memorize you from the inside out.

“Look at me,” he says, not quite a whisper, not quite a command. Just enough to send heat licking down your spine. “I want to see you when you come undone.”

And you do—eyes wide and glassy, lashes fluttering as your breath stutters. The sight of you like this makes him groan, low and hoarse, hips jerking just slightly, betraying how close he is to the edge too, even though he hasn’t taken you fully again yet.

His fingers still, just enough to make you whimper. He presses a kiss to your jaw, then your mouth, as if that could quiet the ache.

“I could live here,” he murmurs into your lips. “Right here, inside you, around you... forever.”

Then he shifts, slow and careful, pulling his fingers free with a wet sound that makes your whole body tighten. He holds your gaze as he brings those same fingers to his mouth, tongue curling around them with a filthy sort of tenderness, eyes half-lidded, like tasting you is sacred.

“You, my dear, officially drive me undeniably insane,” he says, voice wrecked with want. “And I don’t wanna be sane again. Not so soon...”

When he finally sinks into you, it’s with a desperate groan that breaks right through you—thick and deep, every inch stretching you open like a promise. The burn is beautiful, the pressure perfect, and your body arches to meet him like it was made to.

He doesn’t rush. He moves—slow, rolling thrusts that keep you trembling, pinned under him and worshiped at once. His forehead presses to yours, sweat-slick and trembling, and for a moment he just stays there—buried inside you, eyes fluttering shut as your pulse thrums between you.

“You feel like heaven,” he breathes, and then again, “Mine.” Like he needs you to hear it more than once.

And when he starts to move in earnest, it’s with the kind of slow devastation that leaves nothing untouched. Every stroke drags a sound from your throat, every grind of his hips makes your legs shake. He’s whispering again, praise and filth mixing on his tongue:

“So tight for me. So fucking good, after this you'll learn to ask, okay? I could stay like this all night. Just you. Just us. I'll spend every break just like this, or with a mind filled with it.”

And maybe that’s exactly what you want too—him, again and again, until the world fades and all that’s left is the rhythm of his body in yours and the fire he keeps stoking, endless and aching.

He moves again, deeper this time, more sure. Not fast—not yet. But he rocks into you with the patience of a man obsessed with detail, addicted to the small shifts of your body around him, attuned to every gasp and flutter.

Your eyes roll back as you clench down, and he groans—sharp and breathless, the only crack in his otherwise impenetrable restraint.

“Fuck—tight,” he mutters, head bowing slightly. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let me feel it. That’s what I need.”

There’s nothing clinical in his voice now. It’s reverent. Hungry.

His hands are everywhere—on your hip, your thigh, pressed over your chest like he wants to memorize the stutter of your heart. You’ve never seen him like this—undone and focused, devoted. Not just having sex with you, but learning you, like you’re anatomy he wants to master, muscle and nerve and heat.

Your orgasm builds again—second? third? You’ve lost count—rising fast like a tidal wave you can’t hold back.

Zayne notices. Of course he does.

“You’re close.” It’s not a question. “Let it happen. You’re safe. You’re good. You’re mine to take care of.”

That breaks you.

You cry out, raw and sharp, body arching under him as you fall apart with a helpless sob. He takes all of it—every pulse and tremor—and doesn’t stop moving, like your pleasure is the only thing keeping him alive.

He presses his forehead to yours as you shake, still holding you, still inside.

You barely have breath to whisper it: “You really needed this?”

He laughs softly—warm, breathless, wrecked. “No... yes but,” he kisses your knuckles as he admits. “But you did.”

He kisses you—slow, deep, filled with a sweetness that makes your chest ache.

Then he adds, quiet and unshakable: “But I wanted to be the one who gave it to you.”

You blink up at him, throat tight.

“Was that... alright with you?” he asks softly. “Dr’s orders... and all.”

You smile, dazed. “Might need a follow-up appointment.”

His smirk—barely there, tired, pleased—makes your heart flutter.

“I’ll clear my schedule.” ⋆⁺₊❅。

MASTERLIST WITH ALL MY FICS

🐇my bunnies: ((comment or reblog with a 🐇 emoji to get added to the taglist for everything I write)): @starryeyed-apple @asiatic-apple

☃️snowflakes: ((just comment or reblog with a ☃️ emoji of you only want the Zayne fics only taglist)):

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

doesn't take a genius

you're stuck in a time loop and the only thing that keeps changing is ratio and his actions....3.1k w.count

a/n: full disclaimer, this is entirely based on a dream i had about ratio soooo i'm pretty much 103% certain this may end up feeling a bit ooc for our silly yet stoic dr. that and i have NOT sat down to do a good character study for him hnng ;n; regardless, i had to try and put it into words bc the images in my head wouldn't let me rest until i did orz

[no warnings to mention! just fluff (●'◡'●) also g.neutral reader!]

You sit outside the museum on a nearby bench. There's a crowd of people holding excitedly onto brochures, leaflets, and flyers all broadcasting the newly opening exhibition featuring a full model replica of a certain doctor-professor combo you know- although about 3 times his actual size. 

Despite the buzzing atmosphere of excitement- with a touch of giddy from those who find said scholar a nice piece of eye candy- you did not feel the same. Not anymore- anyway. 

Sitting with your back hunched over so your elbows rest on your legs, your hands cup your cheeks, and you stare out into the road of passing cars and pedestrians alike- all of which you recognize. 

Although this section of the museum is brand-new, and ‘never before seen’, so says one flyer, you have in fact already seen it. So many times. Not that anyone else knew. 

In fact, this is about the 84th time you’ve seen it. 

You’re stuck in this town that seems so mundane only filled with puzzled irritation on why the hell you’ve been stuck on the same day 84 damn times. You watch the little boy running ahead of his parents' trip on a brick not completely settled in the sidewalk- you stopped trying to catch him around loop 15. You listen to the echoes of an alley-cat fight that lasts approximately 20 seconds; you stopped attempting to separate or prevent that one after loop 4. 

The cyclist throwing a newspapers at a parked car- loop 24. The worker coming out of a nearby bakery to flip the closed sign to open only to get clipped in the shoulder by a reckless jogger- loop 32. The baby stroller left shamefully unattended long enough that starts rolling down the pavement towards you-

-you stick your leg out to stop the stroller and baby from getting too far. You probably won't stop doing that one- despite it being the 84th time of lecturing the guardian when they come to collect the stroller with its passenger. 

The same things happen as usual every loop and you huff as you wait for the very second on the clock when the staff member of the museum opens the door. Slipping outside to announce the opening of the new exhibit inside with clear instructions on how to get there and a firm reminder to mind your manners and remember that everyone in attendance is here to view it. 

As the crowd starts shuffling in, you let out another sigh before pushing yourself to your feet. Placing yourself among your fellow museum goers, you get ever closer to the entrance before you dig out your admission ticket you had purchased when you had the chance. With the familiar scan of the ticket and same professional greeting from the ticket window operator, you're on your way. 

You’ve been in every inch of this museum by now. Some loops you didn’t even go into the new section you had originally planned this whole excursion for. Instead, you made your way to the less populated and quieter sections you hadn’t been before.

Now though?

Well, it has been 84 times you’ve been inside. You could walk around blind if someone asked you to. 

Having nothing better to do, you stroll inside and siply follow the masses. Overhearing the same conversations and complains about the crowds- and seriously? It’s the debut of a new place with new things. What else would someone expect? An attendance of none other than them? Please. 

As you glance bored along the walls of new paintings and art pieces, you wonder if you should try turning around and wandering someone else again. But then, why would you? It would still all be the same no matter where you go. 

You’ve tried leaving the museum entirely before since nothing is quiet interesting anymore- but for some reason you just can’t bring yourself to. You can get as far as the exit, but something in you makes you stop and hesitate everytime only to bring you back in as if anything could be different. 

It never is. 

Well, maybe that isn’t the whole truth. 

There is one thing that changes almost every single loop. One variable that is never the same. 

That variable's name is Veritas Ratio. 

Being the special guest for the entire event, it isn’t a surprise that he’s present. In fact, his presence is the key factor in why you even decided to show up yourself. Ratio is someone you can look up to and admire- in more ways than one. With his intellect, he’s willing to teach and (although rare) learn pretty much any and everything he can. That coupled with his hobby of sculpting and consuming different arts, he really had no reason to turn down the entire event. 

He is your constant change in every loop. 

The way that Doctor Veritas Ratio interacts with you is the only change you get from your ever-nonchanging weekday. 

The first loop, it felt normal. He greets those he must, including you. Finding you in the crowd as you congratulate him on his contributions and praising him for going through with showing up. He speaks with your mundanely and when the sculpture is unveiled, he’s ushered away by camera flashes and notepads with waiting pens to document any and everything he says. He doesn’t see you again after that on the first loop. 

The second loop, you go through the motions of your day with intense deja-vu and find solace in his difference in approach. Finding you earlier in the day and striking conversation with your first, conveying his appreciation for coming- which you feel flush at since his praise is usually something you have to strive for. When you tell him about how you feel like you’ve lived today once before, he simply begins delving into the background of deja-vu and the subconscious. 

It’s interesting to listen to and entertaining to see him in scholar mode. 

By the 10th loop, you seek him out first freaking out- justifying of course. You’ve lived the same day to the letter 10 times! Locating him, you practically yank his arm out of place as you find a secluded place to tell him about your plight hoping he doesn’t drag you to a hospital to get your brain examined. He doesn’t. But he also tells you to calm yourself down and that it must be a coincidence. You don’t buy it as you frown and whine that he clearly doesn’t take you seriously. 

What kind of coincidence happens 10 times in a row? 

By loop 27, you try telling him about it again. By now you’d started losing your sense of reality and felt like you really were going crazy. On this loop, Ratio finds you first. Seeing your distress upon meeting you, he guided you swiftly away from the crowds and into a private room set up for him as a VIP where you once again expressed your woes and anxiety. This time he wasn’t quick to dismiss you but instead listened diligently. You don’t actually remember if he offered you any advice then or not. But it was 57 loops ago and they tend to blur together. 

Since then, it was all sorts of different occurrences. Meeting you first. Seeking him out. Having full conversations and advice. Telling stupid jokes he rebuttals with lazy flicks of his wrist. Seclusion from others. Surrounded by the crowds. Theres even times he hardly says anything, just occupies your space. And you still have no idea why he’s the outlier. 

You still don’t even know why you’re looping at all! 

As you venture further into the museum, you slip away from the crowd and go directly to the area in which the statue of Ratio himself rests until a large, pure white sheet. Hiding its stone carved glory until the hour to unveil it arrives. 

Technically, no one is supposed to be in this vicinity quite yet, but you know your way around the security by now. And it wasn’t like you were here to vandalize. 

Slipping past all the blind spots and guards posted on corners to keep the event going smooth, you make it to the exhibition’s main event area. The massive, covered statue stands in front of you. Raised on a podium about as wide as a dining table and as high as your shoulders.

It truly is a marvel at how big this thing actually is. 

Looking up at the white sheet, you sigh before you plant yourself on a bench across from it. Reading the plaque with the name of the sculpture in your head, you reread it out loud to yourself next. Not loud enough for anyone to catch wind that you’re in here, but enough to fill the silence for a single moment. 

“Mold of Idolatry.” You scan the words beneath it briefly. Just your average ‘about this piece’ spiels and how long it took to sculpt. You feel a tad guilty that you don’t really care about all the little details at this point. 

You’re not sure how long you sit there just staring at white sheets, golden plaques, and pristine floors. But it was long enough that when you zone back in, there’s a distant murmur or noise.

Of a crowd. 

“Ah damn,” you hiss. Getting up, you stretch before looking for a way to slip out and mold back into the crowd like you’ve been there the whole time and totally not technically trespassing without permission in a closed off area. 

A door to your right slams open and you screech. 

Slamming your hands over your mouth, you whip around and see none other than the man of the hour himself. Veritas Ratio. 

Dropping your hands harshly back down to your sides with a bit of an attitude, you twist around fully to look at him across the room. Maybe it was because your heart was in your throat, but you didn’t really notice the different look in his eyes this loop. 

“You scared the hell out of me!” You whisper aggressively in his direction. Ratio only squares his shoulders and marches towards you without a word. Feeling sweat gather on your nape, you take a step back and think about bolting. Before you can though, his long strides close the distance between you both in a blink. His momentum never stopping. 

Grabbing onto your arm, he starts pulling you along beside him. His grip around you wasn’t tough, or aggressive. It was firm but telling. 

“Come with me.” He leads, as he continues pulling you. Before you can ask where he’s taking you, he walks around his overly large, hidden duplicate of polished stone and stops behind it. With the large pedestal in which the statue stands, it casts a perfect shadow behind that can easily conceal two bodies. 

Ratio pushes your back against the raised piece and holds your shoulders to keep you in place. Even though his actions every loop have been different, this one felt exceptionally so. He hasn’t been this bold or unexpected with his actions before. 

“Ratio, what-” 

His hands from your shoulders slide up to rest delicately on either side of your neck. His thumbs brush along your jaw and threaten to pull down on your lip and open your mouth. His face comes closer; his nose barely touches yours. You squeal as he invades your space. 

“Quiet.” He tells you, making eye contact you can’t bring yourself to break. You feel your skin heating up and you wonder if he can feel it under his hands despite the gloves he wears over his palms. “I need to think.” 

“Think?” You barely get the word out from how quiet you say it, obeying his command easily. 

“Yes. Think.” He speaks in clipped words. Like he isn’t interested in carrying conversation right now. As if he’s pressed for time for a deadline only he knows about. 

“About what?” You still whisper, but your words aren’t nearly as broken this time. You catch him almost roll his eyes. You wonder if his thumb is close enough to your mouth after all so you can bite him. 

“What actions I need to take this time.” 

“What does that-” 

“I suspect, after all this trial and error, the direct approach is all I have left. From a certain point of view, it might seem a bit abrasive, but you’ll simply have to understand. Pardon me.” 

You want so desperately to utter another confused ‘what?’ as if he’s answered any of them so far in a way that didn’t make you more confused. You can’t though. Since his apparent abrasive approach was in the form of covering your mouth with his. 

Your breath halts and you wonder if you're breathing at all as his lips slot over yours. His eyes remain open, as do yours as he stares into you like an art piece. Examining your eyes and everything they have in them until your certain he can see right into your soul. 

His lips are warm. Smooth. Not at all chapped and you can smell a very faint hint of mint- like he put on chapstick not too long ago. Or maybe lip oil? Chapstick isn’t usually this glossy feeling. Or maybe… sticky is a better word. Whatever it was, it wasn’t unpleasant. 

You think maybe you got lost in your own head, because it’s like you blink and he wasn’t kissing you anymore. Instead, he was back away from your mouth, nose to nose with you, and tapping your neck with his fingertips. His blunt nails gently tapping against your skin in short and long patterns. 

.-.. --- ...- .

Your eyes blink like a camera shutter before your mouth moves again. 

“Uh-” you unconsciously lick your lips and taste the mint that was on his mouth. Definitely glossy. Much less chappy.

Ratio’s eye twitches. “Don’t do that.” 

“Huh?” Your brain isn’t fully caught up yet it seems. One of his hands moves from your neck to cover your mouth with his palm. The fabric of his glove and the warmth of his hand under it permeate your skin. With this other, he lifts a finger to his lips, hushing you as if you had a chance to speak at all this whole interaction. 

“If we leave, we’ll be seen.” You nod. “I wish to avoid that.” You half expect him to step away and abscond. Maybe even drag you out with him before the crowd comes in with all their hustle and bustle. He doesn’t do either.

Doctor Veritas Ratio keeps exceeding your assumptions. Stepping half a stride closer, his feet between yours, knees pressing against your body and his hand that had shushed you before moves once again. His arm supports his body on the area behind you that’s behind used to hold you up since your legs feel like they may have gone numb some time ago. He’s invading your space so intimately, you place your hands on his arm and chest to try to both steady yourself and also gauge where to put them at all. 

The hand on his chest quickly gets repositioned by the man himself, sliding it up to his neck until he's cupping his hand over yours, so your touch feels his racing pulse beneath his skin. Theres not a shiver or rack of gooseflesh on his body. But his blood is racing and despite the shadows, you wonder if the skin of his ears looks pinker than usual. 

“Ratio?” You call softly. He hums short. “What was that? This?” You look away from his eyes just for a second to look down to his toes then back up again as a means of gesturing to all of him. 

“The direct approach.” 

“Yeah,” you smile, breathing out a humoring air through your nose, “that doesn’t answer anything.” 

“Do you know morse code?” 

“You know I don’t.” 

“I’ll teach you.” He taps over your hand he keeps pushed against his pulse point in the same rhythms as before on your neck. 

.-.. --- ...- .

“Was that morse?” 

“Indeed.” 

“What does it spell?” 

“Would you like to guess?” 

“Will my answer be for a grade?” You’re proud of yourself for a moment for cracking a joke despite feeling lightheaded. His forehead drops onto yours and he takes a calming breath. His hair is soft and fluffy against your skin. His ears are pink. 

“It will not.” 

“Then, I’m not guessing.” 

“Stubborn.” He smiles though. Before he kisses you again. Veritas Ratio continues indulging in your lips despite the doors opening into the room and the crowd of event goers all compiling in. But he knows the two of you won’t be seen here.

He’s investigated this blind spot thoroughly. 

The sounds and actions of Ratio’s direct approach is drowned out, even as the sheet comes off his overly large stone copy. Even as the creator drones on about how the doctor himself could not be here due to last minute appointments he simply could not overbook. And it is where the two of you remain even after the crowd thins. 

“I think this loop is going to stick with me for a while,” you mutter to yourself, knowing he wouldn’t know what you mean. His thumb swipes under your lips, past the corner of your mouth and up to the apple of your cheek to hold it gently. “Number 85 is going to be a doozy,” you lament. Knowing that when you wake up in tomorrow's today, you’ll be a mess. 

“Tomorrow will be tomorrow.” He says. You just nod, thinking that he’s trying to once again reassure you like he has in previous loops. But you're too far jaded to the looping that’s haunted you to care for his words. You don’t deny or accept them, just let them wash over you. 

You close your eyes to take in the moment, not seeing the point in having a proper conversation about whatever this is since he’ll forget it when the day resets. 

Ratio soothes you. Rubbing your shoulders and spreading his warmth to you while he pulls you into his chest as he rests his chin against your crown. 

“Tomorrow will be tomorrow,” he promises once more.��He slips out with you that evening, taking you home personally. You almost convince yourself to stay awake and watch as the clock hits midnight only to tick back to the same day instead of proceeding.

But it doesn't. The next day comes. You get to wake up the next morning.

Turns out, it doesn’t take a genius to confess one's admiration to another. 

Just a borrowed curio, a mundanite, and 83 loops of botched practice. 

a/n pt.2: imagine being such a loser you have to borrow a curio from your part-colleague doll lady's space station just to confess smdh

[archangeldyke-all]

Oooo i have a cowboy sevika ask if you want it 🤲 okay so what if sevika is telling vi or jinx or both a story from one of her outlaw days and reader catches her and is like bro you can not be telling our rambunctious kids about those days bc they are crazy and will just turn around and do that shit…and sev is like but they think im cool now.

yk what i’m sayin? i hope that made sense anyways do whatever ya want I love cowboy sevika so so so much!!

this is so cute GOD

men and minors dni

this weekend, your kid-load has doubled.

caitlyn rode up to visit vi, and benzo asked you to watch after ekko while he takes care of some business a few towns over. it's been great fun. caitlyn and ekko, unlike your own children, have house-manners. ekko's been a huge help keeping the tavern tidy, and cait's been great help in the garden.

what's even better is watching your girls interact with their respective crushes. vi and cait have finally made it out of the awkward giggly phase, and now they're bickering like an old couple at only sixteen. jinx and ekko are still young enough to not quite understand why they like hanging out so much, but you think jinx is starting to get a hint. she's been blushing almost all weekend.

besides your future children-in-laws, you've only got one guest staying in the inn this weekend. you've just finished changing out the sheets and refreshing the water pitchers in their room when you march downstairs to the tavern; only to find your regular ran sneaking behind the bar to make themselves a drink.

"hey!" you shout. ran scurries away guiltily, and you chuckle. "just 'cause you're here most nights doesn't mean you're allowed behind the bar."

"you were taking too long!" they pout. you giggle.

"you couldn't just ask sev?"

ran chuckles and trades you a few coins for the glass you pour for them. "she's busy recounting the 'old days' to your kids." they say, gesturing to where your wife's tucked in a booth with all four of the kids. you groan.

"fuck. that's never good."

"wait! leave the bottle, and gimmie another glass! mel's meetin' me here and she'll need a drink."

you raise an eyebrow at ran, giggling as they blush. looks like your kids aren't the only ones hanging out with their crushes this weekend. "here." you slide a glass and bottle across the bar. you go to run over to your family's booth, before freezing and turning back around to ran. "which story is she telling?"

"something about a bank robbery?"

"oh, fuck!" you whine, sprinting over to the booth, flipping ran off as they cackle.

"...so i hop on shimmers back-- but i'd loaded her up with so many gold bars she almost collapsed when i got on top. she was in no shape to run, and somebody from inside the bank started shootin' at us, so i hop back off, tell shimmer to scram, and then i start running for my fuckin' life--"

"sevika!" you cut in.

five pairs of wide, excited eyes shoot up to look at you. you groan.

jinx is vibrating in excitement at sevika's words, vi's deep in contemplation, like she's trying to plan her own bank robbery, and ekko and cait are staring at sevika with stars in their eyes like they've just met santa claus.

"hey, darlin'." sevika grins up at you, her eyes glittering with fond memories.

you shake your head at her. "you remember that talk we had about family-friendly stories?" you ask.

jinx groans from her seat. "oh c'mon! sevika doesn't have family friendly stories!"

"and she's got so many good adult ones!" vi adds on.

you groan. "you realize you're actively incriminating yourself each time you recount these stories to someone?"

sevika cackles. "oh, c'mon, doll! ekko and cait won't rat on me, right kids?" she asks.

ekko crosses his heart, and caitlyn gasps. "no, never!"

"sevika's the coolest woman in the entire desert!" ekko shouts. you roll your eyes.

"okay, ekko, i take offense to that." you say. ekko laughs.

"me too." jinx huffs.

cait giggles. "you're not a woman yet, jinx."

"yeah, but only because i haven't pulled off a successful bank robbery yet. once i accomplish that i'll be a real grown up."

"no, see, this is what we're trying to avoid!" you whine, smacking sevika's shoulder. she giggles, pulling you down into her lap and peppering kisses on your neck as you rant. "jinx, womanhood has nothing to do with crime."

"not if you're boring." jinx mutters.

"wh-- y-you-- fuck off! tell 'em how the story ends, sev." you demand, smacking your wife's shoulder. she perks up.

"really?!" she asks. you nod, and all your kids grin in excitement. "okay, okay. so. i'm fuckin' bookin' it down mainstreet, there's at least six people shootin' at me, and i'm praying to everything holy that shimmer knows to meet me back at camp." sevika pauses to take a sip of her beer, and cait squeals.

"so, what happened?!"

you can't help but smile a bit.

sevika chuckles and takes a breath. "i got my ass outta dodge and spent the entire night hiking back to my campsite. by the time i got there, i was cold, hungry, and ready to sleep for two weeks."

"was shimmer there?" vi gasps.

sevika chuckles. "'course she was. shimmer's smarter than all of us combined."

"and the gold?" ekko asks. sevika grins.

"made almost a quarter of a million once i melted it down and distributed it."

"that's amazing!" vi shouts.

you elbow sevika. "tell them the real end."

sevika huffs. your kids blink in confusion.

"that wasn't the end?"

"no, that wasn't the end." you say. "what sevika conveniently forgot to mention was the fact that she had not one, not two, but three gunshot wounds. the only reason she lived to trade that gold in was 'cause she ditched it at camp and rode shimmer back here to me. she nearly fuckin' bled out. spent three days asleep upstairs."

you feel a little bad for the way all the fun is sucked out of the conversation. but, you don't regret it. it was the worst week of your life, nursing her back to health like that only for her to ride back out the moment she was healed.

"'s why my arm's so fucked. there's casings embedded all over my left shoulder." sevika says. "woulda died if my baby didn't know how to cauterize a wound."

"and do chest compressions."

sevika gulps behind you. "y-you did?" she asks. you nod.

"what, you didn't know?" you ask.

she shrugs, tears welling up in her eyes. "'s all a blur. i stopped breathing?"

"for the worst five minutes of my fucking life." you say with a nod.

sevika blinks up at you, her love and affection for you evident in her gaze. "you saved my life?" she asks. you're interrupted before you can speak.

"that. is so. fucking. cool!" ekko shouts. you burst into surprised laughter, blinking away from your wife to look at your kids.

their looks of awestruck wonder all shifted from sevika to you. you chuckle.

"what the hell is 'cauterize?' and how do you do it?!" jinx asks, an excited gleam in her eye.

"how much blood did you have to clean?" vi asks with a fascinated look.

"ooooh, yeah, how much blood was there?" cait asks.

sevika nudges her beer against your hand and you snort, kissing her cheek before taking a big gulp.

you let out a little burp, then speak. "alright, one question at a time. and you gotta remember: this was all the consequence of sevika's dumbass bank robbery."

"it was a flawless plan!" sevika whines.

"flawless if you're trying to get killed." ekko scoffs. the kids cackle.

"okay, start with the blood! how much blood was there" jinx demands, tugging at your hand.

you giggle and shrug. "i dunno. a shit ton?" you guess. your kids burst into excited giggles, and sevika presses her smile against your shoulder.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3

[slaaverin]

get so tired of this bull

Why does JK attending a concert have to be about shipping. He’s been to numerous concerts, is he dating all of them?

I literally saw a tik tok that Said the hat he was wearing can only be bought in Japan, and that Lisa has bought it for him, and he was off because she is home in Korea

I saw another who is insisting he is dating Jennie’s model friend, and she is the one in the leaked videos of him.

Then of course Winkook shippers because he attended their concert.

How does him attending a concert in 2023 and her being there make them a thing, or matching phone cases, or her saying bow wow on an instagram post when she’s wearing a hat with dog ears. She’s five or six years his junior for goodness sake.

It’s just exhausting and ridiculous

You’ve got the y/n crowd running to make it happen to prove it

You’ve got the cult trying to fight it, and you’ve got insecure jkks running to blogs to be like.. I really think winkook is real bc he attended a concert and they were at golden party and they wear matching hats, blah blah blah

Literally all the ‘evidence’ of Jikook and some beautiful posts being written in the last week about their bond and something like this happens and it’s like ppl are shitting all over it. It’s so frustrating.

Now I’m dreading memories because there is bound to be something that ‘disproves’ Jikook or whatever in there. Their solo era they obviously didn’t see eo, or other members being there for them not each other. I can feel the fights now, and it’s a few weeks away. 🙄

I hate people I really do

Let them yap.

Anon, it's hopeless.

Everyone has a different point of view and there's nothing we can do about it.

I stopped caring a long time ago.

Yeah, it still sucks.

But you know whaaat? My little finger tells me that yes there might be things they will hold onto in Memories, possibly, but if we look at the other Memories over the years, there's been a lot of jikook in them too.

Like everyone has this narrative about 2023 which I don't personally agree with.

I predict a surprise or two in there ��

Jikook always do surprising things.

I might be wrong but let's see if I'm right.

I will hold on to this tiny speck of hope because I have this feeling...that we won't be disappointed. There will be something in there.

Let's wait & see and cross our fingers.

In the meantime let's keep a cool head and take things calmly.

Deep breaths anon, it's going to be ok.

Overanalyzing has always happened and will always happen in this fandom.

We don't need to convince anyone.

When your fandom experience and worries becomes more about what other people are saying than your own relationship and feelings about the content and people you're stanning, maybe it's best to take a step back and cater things better so it might become fun again for you.

Did you guys know this whole thing is supposed to be fun? I know many people forgot but...

I'm personally excited about Memories. We're gonna see the members! Nice! And possibly some jikook! Nice! That's it.

Anon, despite all the hate, drama, and noise, I hope you will get to enjoy it too 💜

[merakiui]

MERA IVE BEEN HAVING THIS THOUGHT AND I THINK YOURE THE RIGHT PERSON TO SHARE IT WITH BC ITS SO PERFECT FOR THE TWEELS 😭

A long time ago, back when i was a teenager and still a wattpad girly, I read this one really good story called "Family Comes First" about a family of cannibals that lives in the middle of nowhere. They only keep boy children who are born, no daughters. Whenever a boy turns a certain age (I think 21 but I cant really rmbr), the father goes out to the nearest city, interviews girls under the guise of offering them a job, and kidnaps the best one as a birthday gift and bride. The mother-in-law teaches the new girl how to be a good wife (cleaning, cooking that strange meat, etc.), and the husband is otherwise responsible for his wife, to the point of selecting and laying out her clothing every morning. The ultimate honour is to birth a son, and so the husbands are CONSTANTLY trying to get their wives knocked up. I can't help but imagine Jade and Floyd in a story like this, it suits them perfectlyyyyy

In the book, one of the boys ended up catching feelings for brother's wife (the main character) instead of his own, and it causes fights serious drama in the family. This works so well with the recent ideas about Jade stealing Floyd's cute little wifey except it would be even better for them because they're twins and Jade can pull all his nasty tricks 😭 maybe when she finally gets knocked up with a son, they won't know who it belongs to, because he looks just like his daddy, but the potential daddies look the sammmeee OTZ

Oh oh oh and imagine if reader tries to escape and the family decides to let her try. Let her have fun. Hell, they even join in on the fun. She was blindfolded when they brought her and she's never been out of the house before, so she doesn't know her way around the woods, whereas the men in this family have been hunting humans for sport and food in these woods for generations. Now she's lost in the dark forest with daddy leech and the tweels rapidly closing in on her. She's going to be taught a lesson after they drag her home. After all, she lost the game, and losers never get rewards >_<

OHHH!!! Omg that concept is perfect for the tweels!!!! And they would absolutely draw out the chase in the forest just to scare you even more. Maybe then, after spending an entire day and night being hunted like a wild animal, you'll learn your home is with them. There's no point in running from your family, after all.

Hehe running from the three of them and you injure yourself, so now you're even more panicked because what if they can smell the cut on your leg? What if they can hear your pained grunts as you drag yourself along, limping through the forest? >_< omg and it doesn't matter who finds you; it's going to be frightening either way. Floyd who drags you out of your hiding place by the ankles, or Jade who stands over you as he patiently waits for you to take notice of him. Or Papa Leech wrapping you up in big, strong, scarred arms to carry you back to the house. Maybe you're kicking and screaming all the way, and it's useless to struggle because there's no one else out here for stretches. Just you and your family, who care so very much for you. You should be grateful! Mr. Leech's sons fight over you to be named your husband. Aren't you lucky to have the two of them? Most of all, aren't you lucky you're alive and not on their murderous menu?

AAAAAA and Papa Leech picks your clothes for you going forwards! They were far too patient and lenient with you before, far too forgiving. Now you're living under a new schedule, a fresh set of rules. Your clothes are selected for you, and your meals are prepared in advance (gone are the days in which you were given choices; each meal is healthy and has properties meant to boost your fertility). When you aren't learning to be the perfect housewife, you're getting bent over every possible surface and bred by the twins. Or if the twins can't behave, then maybe Papa Leech ought to knock you up instead........... thinking thoughts.

In conclusion, the entire family is crazy and you're stuck with them forever. orz

[comethead]

hi hi hello! never made a request before i’m kinda new to tumblr lol

ANYWAYS.

jason x fem!reader and reader broke her ankle and ofc jason is being super sweet and gentle and eventually reader really wants to fuck him but he’s hesitant bc broken ankle but like super sweet gently sex?? (also pretty pet names please i’d actually melt)

- 🦚 (can that be my anon?)

omg hiii, yes! 🦚 anon I hope you're still around cuz haha school got in the way but here is your request! hope you enjoy >u<

Care for You

MDNI // smut // Jason Todd x Reader

(afab reader, creampie, praise, gentle sex, pussy eating, no use of y/n)

Ao3 Link

“Hey, hey, settle down, I’ll grab that for you.”

You huff, sitting back down on the bed as Jason reaches for the magazine you were eyeing. They sat at a pile at the foot of your bed, which you’ve been confined to for as long as Jason was around. That being, always, as he hasn’t left your side since you broke your ankle, with the exception of going on patrol (but not without telling you a hundred times over to give him a call for absolutely anything). 

You give your boyfriend a peck on the cheek once he closes the distance between you two to hand you your magazine. “Thank you Jay, though I will say I’m not that fragile you know,” you pout, flipping open the booklet to the first couple of pages. He snuggles up to you, resting his head on your shoulder as he murmurs, “I know, but I’m gonna take care of you regardless. Can’t have my baby going and breaking her other ankle.” You smack him lightly on the arm for the last comment as he chuckled. You puff out your cheeks in mock anger and turn your head swiftly away from him. Gently, he places a hand on your chin to turn you to look back at him. “C’mon, you can’t stay mad at me for long, can you sweetheart?” You melt under his gaze, and flush as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. You press your lips against his when he draws back, and he gladly returns your passion by deepening the kiss. Before long, the two of you are making out, breaking apart for air before locking lips again. 

You tug at his shirt, beckoning him to take it off. You’re incredibly turned on, the way his lips are wet and red from making out, watching his broad chest rise and fall as he pants. “Hey,” he breathes, “I don’t think we should…your ankle-”. You shush him, and whip out that magazine from earlier. You flip to a page and show him a little diagram with a small paragraph describing it. “Look, it's a sex position that won't strain or jostle my ankle too much,” you say proudly, grinning at the way Jason’s eyes widen. “Jeez, my pretty baby is doing her research, huh?”, he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You smile back at him, tossing the magazine aside. “Soooooo..?” you ask, running your hands down his chest and to his stomach, noting the way his breath hitches. “Mmm, I really think you shouldn’t risk it babe,” he groans, catching your hands and holding them in place.

“Oh Jay, I promise I’ll say something if it hurts at all and we’ll stop immediately. Pretty please?”, you whine, gazing hopefully into his eyes. Jason sighs, releasing your hands and moving his to your breasts as he massages them. You whimper, placing your hands on top of his as he whispers, “Alright, you better keep that promise though.” The low notes of his voice sends tingles down to your tummy and you can barely contain your arousal as you moan, his fingers pinching your sensitive nipples. Moving down, he pulls your shorts down slowly, making sure not to move your ankle too much. Kissing your bare thighs, you suppress another moan when you feel his hot breath against your cunt. Jason moves your panties aside as he licks a broad stripe on your folds, feeling your wetness on his tongue. You nearly clamp your legs around his head in pleasure, your head thrown back and mouth open in a silent plea for more. Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he holds you gently yet firmly in place as he continues eating you out. Circling his tongue around your clit, you let out a breathy moan from the stimulation as he works at bringing you to your climax. Adjusting your legs with the slightest of movements and with great care, Jason pulls back from your soaked cunt, your pleasure evident on his chin. “Fuck baby, you look so damn pretty,” he breathes, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes. You flush, covering your face. “Hey, don’t get all shy on me alright?” he gently pushes your hand away from your face as he cups your cheek in one hand. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he says, kissing you softly. You return the gesture, and the taste of yourself has your pussy clenching around nothing. “Oh Jay, please-” 

“Mhm, I got you baby.” He’s pulling his boxers down now, his hard cock bumping against your sensitive clit. Slowly, he begins to push his length in, whispering praises and groaning at the way you squeeze around him. Thrusting gently so as to not jostle your legs too much, you feel another orgasm build up. His steady pace keeps you moaning and crying out his name as you feel his dick fill you up. “Oh fuck,” he pants, leaning down to press little kisses to your neck up to your face. As much as you’re able to, you rock your hips onto his cock, feeling the stretch of your pussy accommodating his girth when he bottoms out. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m- ngh- I’m close,” he moans, thrusting faster. You whimper as you feel your own orgasm approaching, finally cumming when your sweet Jason cums deep into your cunt, filling you up. The two of you stay like that for a while, with him in you and the both of you breathing heavily. He finally pulls out and carefully lays down next to you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Told you I’d take care of you,” he smirks, and you roll your eyes in false annoyance, happy to have had sex with your favorite boy.

[madschiavelique]

As someone who hates musicals I recently became a hamilton fan which has been a shock to everyone , and I now need to know what would the acoi characters favourite musicals be if they were to have one ?

Feel free to completely ignore this stupid ask lmao

-🦇

omg hi batnony!!! sorry this took so long but classes got my ass URGH

okay SO. i'm not and let me stress NOT a fan of musicals myself, so my répertoire is not that thick, BUT i shall try and assign a musical to each chars

reader :

Moulin Rouge - I literally cannot envision a better musical for her. Trying to get through that industry to do something better, no matter the price, and trying to just not fall in love because it could ruin both her career and her life (and she loves the angst of an ending that isn't happy - dw it won't be her ending though)

her fav songs are definitely El Tango De Roxanne, Children Of The Revolution, and Hindi Sad Diamonds

viktor :

Hamilton - oh yeah. yes we are doing this. Sorry not sorry but i literally cannot think of anything else ESPECIALLY when i keep thinking of Viktor when I hear "How do you write like you're Running out time? Write day and night like you're Running out time? Every day you fight like you're Running out time Like you're Running out time / Are you running out time? How do you write like tomorrow won't arrive? How do you write like you need it to survive? How do you write every second you're alive Every second you're alive Every second you're alive"

sky :

The Wiz (1978) - not The Wizard Of Oz, The Wiz. she starts singing Ease On Down The Road when she leaves the appartment in the morning and Soon As I Get Home when the classes are over

jayce :

Epic - you heard me damn right. That hoe pictures himself as Odysseus and violently CRIES for certain songs okay ? he is LIVING it all. Penelope is his Mel and he deadass will start humming Would You Fall In Love With Me Again

eris :

The Phantom of the Opera - who tf is suprised ? Eris is that edgy girl that would have wanted to stay with the Phantom rather than the other twink, period. She is LIVING for the costumes and the overall ambiance of it and her soul ascends when the main theme starts playing with the organ and all

selene :

Hair - Listen, she sings Aquarius all the time and Let The Sunshine In. Plus she is anti-war and I could see this as the typical musical she watched and listened to when she was younger

not pulling tyler in this one bc he is a hoe

[zai-doodles]

lucy hc pls and leo too ❤️

lucy hcs r so crazy long im gonna just focus on leo and lucys dynamic and how that goes down

I still loke was banished from the spirit world but his whole backstory has to change

(if u r unfamiliar with how i write the zodiac spirits, they r basically minor gods who have been around for thousands of years and run their own churches kinda like norogami, only members of the church r able to wield that spirits key and while it is normal to be part of more than one church the cap is typically like 3 just cuz mages bodies arent able to handle so many different types of magic/bonds)

((also also when a spirit dies they r just replaced with a new one that is typically a manifestation of the beliefs of the followers at the time))

Aight so karen was basically the leader of the Leo church for a while, one of Leo's most trusted followers Loke has only been Leo for like 20 years at this point and karen has been a member of the church since she was like 5, she's 30 now and knew the pervious Leo She does not like loke very much but respects him regardless for the first few years She establishes a contract with Aries and raises in the ranks quickly just from being such a high ranking wizard already She takes charge of both churches and starts to see that the Leo church is "superior" to the other churches Mechanically, it's just like Leo is v dps coded to me lol, so it's much more versatile than most of the other churches, the only perceived threat in Karen's mind is the church of aquarius Conflict between church's is taboo and strictly prohibited, however karen using her influence over both the Aries and Leo followers launches a coordinated assault on the aquarius church Loke didn't know about the attack until far too late and was blamed by aquarius and the queen (the king of the spirits in now a queen and I'm naming her Nyx like the greek goddess for now) for being blinded and naive to let a bunch of mortals outsmart him Karen dies in the attack and despite everything loke did consider her a friend even tho she betrayed him and he decides he's not worthy of being the Lion spirit and for the next 50 years exiles himself as a human He avoids any and all celestial mages like the plague and joins fairy tail only because they didn't have any celestial mages at the time When lucy joins he considers just leaving like every other time he's joined a guild and a celestial mage joins but hearing the name heartfilia makes his curiosity get the better of him He didn't know Layla personally but her reputation proceeded her and the respect/ favoritism aquarius showed for her was v well known among the spirits As a small attempt at atonement for what he did to aquarius, he resolves to keep an eye on lucy in hopes that maybe aquarius can learn to forgive him one day But then lucy figures him out v quickly bc any celestial mage with a brain would be able to connect loke with the lost Lion spirit Maybe there's a small lore dump that loke overhears where lucy is telling someone abt the war of spirits, where Leo attacked aquarius and she struck him down and no one has seen the spirit for 50 years He still has a few followers, he lends them Magic which is y he's dying so rapidly since he prioritizes his followers over his life They can never summon him/ he doesn't come when they call By the time canon starts he has no followers left because he has no magic left to give People look for him, viewing it as some kind of test since it's widely known that when a spirit dies another version of them takes their place, and his constellation still sits in the sky But its dimmer than the others now like its fading Loke hopes the next Leo will do better than him but the flickering constellation has never happened before, so when canon starts he's trying to figure out the fuck is up with that Basically bc he's dying with no followers there's no magic/ belief to inform his next incarnation, so once he dies he won't be reborn Lucy probably figures this out and it's so dramatic lol

[python-nebula]

Alright, by popular demand here is my rant analysis of how 'Rex - Brutus II' by The Buttress is basically just TMA season 5!! :3

(WHY DO THINGS KEEP STOPPING BEING IN BOLD) (okay just ignore it)

[first of all: 'Brutus' = 'Jon', 'Rex' = 'Archivist']

secondly from a purely sound standpoint, the song has such TMA vibes anyways, the discordant tune, the eerie-ness, like,,

(okay, let the lyric analysis commence!) (also I'll put the lyrics in different font + bold) (also most questions as rhetorical)

______________________________________________________________

Speak with me! No - Your eyes already say the things that with your mouth you won't

I feel like this bit is self-explanatory (first part: Jon's Compelling thing, second part: he Knows things/has emotions about things but won't tell Martin, Martin can tell)

Below my countrymen cry out for each other's blood and anguish The men and women now at war, each camp speaking different language and yet both sides curse out at me as they toil and they languish

Very reminiscent of the first Slaughter domain + Jon projecting his self-blame onto everyone else (aka thinking that everyone must blame him bc he blames himself, even though they don't even know that he caused the eyepocalypse)

am I even Brutus still? It's like I've forgotten my own name... But the people call me Rex

'am I even Jon still? It's like I've forgotten my own name... But the people call me Archivist'; trying not to give up his humanity but feeling a duty to help humanity that requires not being one of them

My heart never beats in me alone But always through the hearts of other men That want me dead

Jon's been manipulated for 4 whole seasons and he's sick of it- he doesn't want to be a disposable pawn anymore

[I skipped most of the next verse bc I don't feel that it fits neatly]

I do not do what is best for myself, but for us - The Public

He's trying to convince himself that the only reason he's smiting avatars and getting to the Panopticon is to save the world; that is one reason, but there's an element of selfishness too

Also in this section of the song, you can hear people shouting in the background which a) is reminiscent of the soundscaping in Mag 189 and b) representative of the pressure Jon feels to succeed in his task

during this instrumental section, voices in the background whisper 'Brutus'[/'Jon']; either the Eye calling Jon to the Panopticon or Martin trying to get through to him

But now here I supersede you - The difference between you and me - You act out of love for yourself I do so for my love of the people

Again, trying to convince himself of the previous point, however this time it's directed at Elias/Jonah; Jon maintains that he's better than Jonah, but is he?

the aformentioned shouting begins again in the background, as well as the 'Brutus' whispering

There, you - Have you no pride? What are you doing? Feel shame, it is I - Brutus the human

Jon talking to the other avatars and/or smiting them; also 'Brutus' = 'Jon' so he is restating his humanity once again

Make them like oil from water - I will separate them! Mothers will kill their own daughters and friend will kill friend

How Jon basically gets to decide who is watcher (an avatar) and who is watched (a victim), and how neither option is good; the people will suffer anyway

It's not cruel or loveless or hatred Cause even if it means I must erase you I do so for the good of the many of those who must remain so please forgive me!

He is insisting (to himself or others?) that what he is doing isn't malicious, it's right/good in the long run, it will help everyone eventually, but still a part of him begs to be forgiven

It is my duty, I must separate them Must divide them - With tear in eye and iron stomach

He is losing himself, no matter how hard he tries; but is he? he still feels sadness for people (if vague) and has to steel himself before going into a domain/smiting someone- is that not humanity?

Here I go now... Like Samson among the Philistines... For I am become.... Death.

Now eventually, he has come to the end, they all have destroyed the Panopticon and killed Jonah, he and Martin have carved their way through domains like Samson, and now they bring death to Jonah and the Fears , but also to themselves [although those last two are debatable]

Finally, the outro of the song has not only the shouting return, [all the elements together are so good and remind me of the soundscaping in Mag 200 after they succeed]

but elements of the previous song 'Brutus' also bleed through (the tune and the laughs/violin, the word 'Brutus' repeated like a mantra); Jon is being pulled back to himself and his humanity in his last moments; although in the song these elements sound sinister, I think it just reflects how the Archivist comes back to being Jon as the man he loves agrees to kill him - they die/disappear together, as themselves.

And there you have it!! I might add to this later but for now its finished, lmk if I missed anything (I probably did) :3

[tagging the people who seemed interested:

@cupsy-daisy @sushisocksthereal @cinemasapph1c @lobsterwizard

@kitsunesakii @rotting-and-so-beautiful @malthedreamer]

[the-knife-consumer]

Hi, sorry to bother, But do you have any advice for getting better at Rain World?

I heard some good things about it but either it's hard to get into or im super bad at videogames (probably the latter) because my poor monky boy just KEEPS dying and getting lost. There's an orange thing trying to point me in some sort of direction and i found some pearls i can spit up but the direction it leads me to is "fall off a bridge full of guys who throw sticks at you" and it doesn't seem to be going very well, on account of that my guide keeps going "you NEED to go in this direction(bad bridge)" and im like. :(

Also howd your slug get pink. Can we change the slug colour? Is that a thing?

Hi and um. I am also horrible at rain world definitely not the the person you should turn to for help 😭. It's one of those games where you will always die to something no matter what... There is no getting better at it aside from understanding movement tech better, everything else in the game stays consistently horrible (which is kind of the point given that the whole theme is the cycle of death and rebirth and how you're a really tiny squishy slug in a world filled with predators. But it's frustratingggg ugh)

But anyway.. on my first playthrough I disregarded the orange thing entirely because it was getting on my nerves at it was a 50/50 on whether it'd actually like show up and tell me where to go or not.

What I've always done is Outskirts > Industrial > Shaded Citadel > Shoreline. The good thing about Citadel is it's nice and peaceful (if you're okay with spiders), and it's entrance to Shoreline is pretty close to Moon (also you don't have to go through drainage and garbage wastes that way, so less time in water and less scavengers). Keep going right once you get to shoreline, and you'll meet Moon (won't be able to talk to her yet bc you haven't found Five Peb. But that's where the orange thing has been trying to lead you.)

And on dealing with scavengers... Be as slow and nonthreatening as possible. Drop weapons if you have any (if they have a spear of their own they'll spear swap with you. Gesture of good will. If they don't have anything to trade they'll at least be less afraid of you), don't jump or run fast, and stay low to the ground. Pearls are needed for tolls, but if a scavenger with a weapon seems really afraid of you I would give them any pearls you have just to be safe. You'll always find more later. I also enjoy taking the shaded c. route because it's a good opportunity to build a positive relationship with the scavengers (trading spears for lanterns and such)

Also yeah!! You can change slugcat color like two different ways. Go into the remix menu and turn on either custom colors or jolly co op (can't remember anything about what the remix menu is like so I may be sounding stupid rn) and then you can mess with hue/saturation/lightness options on your slug :)

And btw movement tech guide. It's. Very long

[ghostytoad]

Omg I loved the raph req you just did!! Could I req basically the same thing but with a reader that’s similar to Leo instead? Thanks a ton<3

jfksdjhgklsh i've had to break this into multiple parts bc they turned out a little long, but hopefully they're just as good TwT

* Fun n' Games *

ROTTMNT Boys x GN! Leo-esque reader who enjoys drama, making jokes, and being overall awesome

Summary: The Hamato brothers unexpectedly fall for the smug, but genuine, fun-loving reader despite their egocentric habits

Headcanons for: Raphael

GN! Reader; Romantic; Fluff || Words: 1.3k

Donnie | Leo | Mikey | Bonus!!

Raph:

oh god, he's gotten his fill of worry-fueled headaches dealing with his little brother's shenanigans; why, WHY great pizza supreme in the sky did there have to be another one??

y/n's reckless antics has him worrying himself into an early grave, especially when they're so keen on proving themselves to everyone with dangerous stunts and high-action battles

it's not that he doesn't enjoy the odd adventure or two with them, but y/n's a HUMAN and he's a WAR MACHINE. he has to be extra cautious around them!

he's taken it upon himself to keep an eye on y/n at (almost) all times bc of their more impulsive actions; he is the oldest and biggest hamato after all, so who better to protect y/n?

if they're out and about with leo or mikey, he will DEFINITELY be there to intervene bc he knows those two are just askin' for trouble; he's their only braincell and they're NOT leaving him behind

it's through his constant surveillance (with some help from donnie), that he slowly starts to realize his feelings for them runs deeper than just wanting to keep them safe

god forbid y/n tries to hide their latest blunder or misadventure, raph will have an absolute FIT (nothing physical obviously, he'll probably get all pouty and insecure)

"look, i know i might not look it but inside, raph is just as scared as anyone else that the people i love could get hurt. i'm not mad, i'm just… tryna look out for you, y'know?"

mikey likes to tease raph for "babying y/n", which says a lot when it comes from the literal baby of the family; kinda forces raph to rethink his overbearing behavior

once he realizes just how overbearing and borderline scary he's being, he will do his best to back off and cut back on all the 'stalking' and 'babying'

will genuinely laugh at y/n's jokes, no matter how bad they are; even if leo literally made the same exact joke 10 minutes ago, raph can't help but double over wheezing with laughter when they say it

he finds y/n's delivery a lot better than leo's; genuinely thinks they are the funniest person alive

he will sometimes join in on y/n's teasing whenever it's directed at his brothers or at an enemy while they're fighting; if he manages to make y/n laugh at one of his jokes, he'll be over the moon with joy

has the habit of accidentally referring to y/n as 'leo' when he's scolding them or going into a long rant about staying safe or something; it's not that he sees y/n as a "human leo", he's just used to getting onto the red slider turtle for the same exact shenanigans so it's like an auto-response

immediately catches himself the moment he does misname them and profusely apologizes through his flustering tears; forgets what he was even mad about every time it happens

for a while, raph considered getting y/n a guard dog or something to watch over them but would they even want a dog? what if they're allergic or they have a terrible fear of dogs or something!

on top of that, despite claiming to be "good with animals", he basically scares off any small animal that comes within 10 ft of his towering stature

but aha, an idea! what if instead of a pet, he gave y/n something special of his? something he can trust to take care of them

as long as y/n PROMISES to keep it safe and clean, raph will gift them one of his special teddy bears to watch over them when he's not around

won't admit it, but he finds y/n's big ego and constant bragging to be incredibly endearing and will add to it whenever he can

like yeah, what isn't to like? they're cool, funny, they know where all the action's at, they have the prettiest eyes; it's no wonder y/n is as confident as they are - to be honest, raph's not sure why EVERYONE doesn't feel the same way about y/n

likes to use his special raph-exclusive catchphrase 'like a boss' to describe everything y/n does (a high honor in his culture)

"did you guys catch how y/n totally shut those clowns down like a boss?? i betcha they could take you three down no sweat!"

gaming buddies!! it's one of his favorite pasttimes and what better way to channel y/n's competitive energy than with some good ol' beat 'em ups

1v1 video game marathons are GUARANTEED to last days for the two of them; they've both managed to lose major sleep bc of how invested they get into the competition

but sleep deprivation has a habit of making fools of us all, even headstrong turtle mutants. and y/n just happens to be the subject of raph's sleepy rambles

"I swear, I can't feel my eyes…" Y/N's croaky, tired voice muttered as they fought sleep against the now-deflated beanbag, the dim glow of the television screen highlighting the dark circles of exhaustion, "How long have we been playing?"

Slumped over next to Y/N was the large turtle, struggling to muster a coherent sentence as total nonsense tumbled from his lips. As he lay facedown across his own plush beanbag, controller lazily dangling from his large hand, he continued to mutter unintelligably.

"Alright, big guy, let's get you to bed." Y/N groaned as they sat up to stretch. They couldn't help but smile as they watched Raph's sleepy form slump further forward in protest, his knuckles brushing against the floor from how far he'd shifted. He was stubborn to be sure, and all of this just to win a single round. It's not like Y/N didn't warn him ahead of time just how epic their combat gaming skills were! He really should've heeded their warning, it would've saved him hours of humiliating losses and subsequent insomnia.

"L'go one more roun'…" Raph finally managed to grumble, his voice tapering off as the drowsiness overcame him once again. He refused to let the night end until he'd bested his opponent at least once.

"Nuh uh, we're getting you to bed and that's final." the amusement in Y/N's tone stirred the mutant back awake.

"Fine, but I'll getcha next time." Raph finally relented with a sluggish grin and heavy-lidded eyes. With a grunt, he pushed himself up off the sack and was sent stumbling into Y/N's awaiting arms. They struggled to keep a grip on his large form, nearly losing their balance once his full weight shifted onto them. In an impressive show of determination, Y/N had managed to carry Raph into his room, opting to (not so gracefully) toss the massive turtle back onto his bed. Raphael didn't anticipate such a toss and with a hand still tightly gripped onto Y/N's waist, he managed to yank the human down with a light thud against his chest. If it had been anyone else, Raph would've been embarrassed enough, but this particular situation was one he'd keep himself awake at night thinking about. And yet here Y/N was, eyes wide with surprise and body held snug against his, completely unaware of Raph's affection for them. Would they leave? Would they scold him for being too clumsy? Did they think he was a creep?

"Uh… s-sorry. Did I hurt ya?" he managed to stutter, his expression flustered and suddenly alert. Despite the internal conflict, his hand held firm on their waist as if it was urging them to stay.

"No, no, I'm fine. We can chalk this up to you being a sore loser though~" Y/N teased with a light smirk, the dark blush that dusted across their face very evident, only rivaled by the even darker shade that burned at Raph's.

A soft silence fell over the both of them as they timidly avoided each other's gazes, neither willing to yield.

"Um… Good night, Raph-a-doodle. Love ya…" Y/N hummed, nuzzling deeper into his chest while they tried to settle into their new sleeping position. Raph couldn't stop the sigh of relief that escaped him, but the way Y/N looked so peaceful and snug on top of him brought him back into the quiet lull of slumber. They were actually going to stay. Did that mean that they…?

He'd leave that question for another night.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Okay guys, you've convinced me lol, here's the gist of the Kim/Porsche idea!

The Kittisawats are a rival mafia family led by Porsche

When Kim is ~18, instead of running away to college, he sells himself to Porsche to be his sex slave. It's surprisingly wholesome.

This happens bc Kim discovers Tawan's being sketchy. Kinn doesn't believe him, so Kim tries to find more evidence, only to learn Korn is also involved (not directly, but he makes it very easy for Tawan to find secrets to sell, and be the snake he is). Kinn doesn't believe Kim about this either, but now he's angry bc Kim is trying to tear down Tawan and their father, while he's blinded by love and respect for both.

So Kim runs straight to Porsche

The conditions for his deal: Porsche gets Kim and everything he knows, as long as Porsche protects him from his father, swears not to hurt Kinn, and takes care of Tawan. Kim just wants to keep his family safe. But he knows he's just become a traitor, and his father won't let that stand. So. He's stuck with the Kittisawats. (It's not a hardship. He's honestly treated so much better by Porsche, feels more free as his slave than his father's son, and isn't that fucked up.)

At this point, Porsche isn't sleeping with men yet. There's some interest but no follow through. But Kim is offering himself up, so like. That's what he's supposed to do, right?? That seems like the thing to do. Because Kim's his sex slave now. So they should have sex.

Neither of them have any idea what they're doing. Kim's being heavily influenced by Vegas' psychotic stories of his sex pets, so that's what he expects from Porsche, and that's the role he's trying to fill. Porsche is just going along for the ride.

(It ends up angsty later bc neither of them actually want this. Or, they don't want it like this.)

Porsche does think Kim is very pretty, which leads to some... interesting situations. Some dubcon gender. Kim is going to play the part of his beautiful demure mistress because he feels like he has to. And it's easier this way, separating himself from the situation by playing this role, changing every aspect of himself down to his voice. (Until he has an identity crisis and a breakdown about it.)

This actually becomes a central part of the fic, but I don't want to spoil the surprise.

After Kim's break down, they start over, establish some boundaries and expectations. Once Kim gets comfortable enough to feel safe with Porsche, and his place under Porsche's power, he becomes an absolute gremlin. Porsche loves it, he's so fun, he's such a little shit.

Another central part of this fic is that Kim has OCD and slight agoraphobia. The agoraphobia comes after he betrays his father, it's a gradual onset. First he's just in hiding, but then Porsche starts trying to make him go out more. He's heard stories about Kim's eldest brother who never leaves the tower, he doesn't want Kim to end up like that. But Kim resists him at every turn, until it's just. Natural for him not to leave. (Chay will later get him outside, but not for a while.)

The OCD has always been there. But Korn isn't exactly a beacon of mental healthy support, so Kim has no idea what it is. All he knows is that he's Odd, that there are certain rituals he has to perform or else he feels like he's going to die, or someone else is, and he's usually punished for it. I don't want to get into all of them here but !!! I've spent the past few days coming up with self-soothing rituals for Kim and they are so good. It's not the usual generic habits like ~clean freak~ or ~counting things~, they're connected to his specific traumas, and they are so. excellent. they make me so happy.

So yeah! There you go! It starts out almost like an arranged marriage trope, Kim sells himself to Porsche, they eventually relax around each other, and they become excellent friends (who fuck, but don't fall in love). Kim uses family secrets to help Porsche get a leg up on his father. Porsche eventually helps mend Kim's broken relationship with Kinn (DubCon brother bonding).

Oh! And while Porsche isn't particularly kinky in this story, Kim is, so Porsche has to learn how to be a good dom for him. Once again the way that happens is very angsty, but it turns out great for them! Kim just needs someone to put him in subspace and leave him there for a while, get him out of his head. It's as close to therapy as he's likely to get.

[evillex11]

tldr: geto ain't all that /j. he (may) actually never had his shit straight, gathered, and set as many thought he did (incl gojo). u can skip to the conclusion cuz this is way 2 long

i have the idea of geto being set on his goals drilled into my head so much that I forget how vulnerable he really is. he isn't really as “i've already decided and I won't stop at anything to pursue it” as I remember him to be 

like, I already know that geto's goals aren't solely for his personal gain or interests, he's not as selfish/cold-hearted as he might come off. he wanted to create a world where it's easier to live as sorcerers .... and it's not just bc he was almost killed by a nonsorcerer (toji) for a greedy reason and doesn't want it to happen to him again ... but he also had his friends and colleagues in mind—he doesn't want to see another innocent kid who had a shot at living the way she desired be killed again, he doesn't want gojo to be a tool anymore, he doesn't want to have piles of other sorcerers’ (his colleagues!!) bodies to be at the end. and mind you, when he decided to abandon everything he had, he was a teenager that saw too much as was spiraling out of control. he wasn't fully mature when he made his decision 

and if u maybe squint, u can see hints of regret in his decision... maybe uncertainty or just not wanting to pursue it as much as we're all led to believe. he was away for 10 years... that's a lot of time, what exactly did he do? he was running a cult and gathering curses for his grand plan of ridding the world of nonsorcerers. but in those years, he never posed any serious threat to the jujutsu world or nonsorcerers despite his already powerful technique ,, not until his declaration of war at least. but even then, it wasn't even like he was guaranteed to win bc of how strong he's gotten... he declared that war knowing he had a good chance of losing, it was half-assed (lack of a better term). and when he did lose, he didn't bother to run away. he let gojo get to him, he let himself to die in his hands

all that to say, maybe geto didn't know what he was doing exactly—he wasn't as sure about his end goal, where he was going exactly, how he was going to do it and whatnot. it feels like he just decided on something without as much thought as he should've and is bound to that decision and felt inclined to just... keep going. dare I say, the whole thing was to give himself a new purpose. your whole life being you're a tool, a thing with an innate purpose to fulfil, isn't very pleasant to realize isn't it? (would like to add: purpose/value of life is explored multiple times in jjk). so maybe he wanted to take control of his life back by steering his goal from the one instilled to him as a sorcerer to one that he decided for himself. 

his lack of actual, impactful violence is telling of this. he was shaken up by the events that stacked onto him that it caused a decision to be made when it's heaviness fell on him. he had a crisis n felt like he needed to get a hold of himself, his ideals/morals were slipping away and he needed to grasp it again, somehow. it's not actually as grounded as I remember, it's not as set in his mind as we think. it seems otherwise by the way he seems accustomed to his new life, how untroubled he looks when we see him in jjk0, how fulfilled he is with how it's going. he has new acquaintances, a family, a goal which he won't stop at anything to reach. but we dont see what's behind that... we don't see how he feels through all this, how relieved he might've been to have gojo kill him finally. 

sorry for being so redundant lol I'm blabbering. but basically, geto may seem like he laid a clear path towards a goal bc of how confident he left everything the day of the KFC breakup, but he's actually unstable and unsure as hell. he stalled a LOT on doing actual impact and taking BIG steps to reach his goal. deep inside, he actually doesn't wanna go down that path, he just said he will to have a hold of himself, his ideals, his purpose.

but what do I know? I haven't rewatched jjk0 yet and I'm not done rereading the entire manga so… I don't trust my memory that much. might've remembered some things wrong or forgot a detail so ..  feel free to point that out !!! as always, discussion is always appreciated :3

also this makes me a bit happy cuz now my “the deal” by mitski x geto suguru vision is now perfect<3 I'm gonna have fun making that animatic!!!! in my head almost each line fits him now, I'm so happy. I love u geto I love u mitski. I do hope I get to make that damn animatic. I'm telling you it's so geto-coded!!!

[hedwig221b]

HIIII can you list some of your favourite angst heart-wrenching sobbing sliding down the walls fics ? idc if it’s short or long i need some angst rnn please and thank uuu <3

Hi, sweetie! This was difficult for me, bc I'm a sucker for angst, basically all I read is angst and I have like 200 fics saved. Here's a looong list of the ones which I know for sure I can always come back to for some good old angst.

STEREK ANGST FIC RECS from HEDWIG221B

By Any Other Name by entanglednow

(Explicit, 33k, Amnesia, Violence)

He doesn't know his name, he doesn't know who he is, and neither does the werewolf he's on the run with. But he's pretty sure they hunt monsters, because they seem to be really good at it.

all roads they lead me here by spaceprincessem

(Teen, 39k, Mates, Emissary Stiles)

“Then why wouldn’t you be Derek’s emissary?” Stiles asked. He just wished Deaton would get to the fucking point. He was tired and he hated playing twenty questions to figure out what the older man was getting at.

“Derek’s emissary needs to be someone who he trusts completely,” Deaton explained, “and it’s time I passed on my wisdom and expertise to that person.”

The beat of silence between them stretched for too long before Stiles realized exactly who Deaton was talking about.

“Me?” He asked incredulously.

A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous

(Mature, 25k, Medieval, Royalty, Pining)

He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend.

In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better.

~*~

Or, Stiles is a prince and Derek is his knight.

won't you torture someone else's sleep by redeyedwrath

(Gen, 3,6k, Pining)

I love you, Derek thinks, but he doesn’t say it, just watches Stiles throw his head back in laughter that isn’t for him and never will be. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Maybe if he thinks it hard enough, Stiles will hear him.

Wants & Needs by MadcapRomantic

(Explicit, 33k, ABO, Mating Run, Bad Peter)

Derek Hale has been participating in the Beacon Hills Mating Run for a decade, each year coming up without a mate. His mother, convinced this is his lucky year, persuades him to run one last time.

Enter Stiles, a young Omega with an unwanted Alpha nipping at his heels.

Family or not, Peter is determined to have Stiles.

But convinced they are True Mates, there isn't anything Derek won't do to keep Stiles safe.

To Whom The Wolf King Bows by MadcapRomantic

(Explicit, 108k, 14/?, Courting, Fantasy, Royalty)

Stiles Stilinski meets The Wolf King, the very boogeyman he'd spent his younger years terrified of; yet the man is little, if anything, like the tales he's heard. But, Stiles has spent the last ten years of his life as a slave, under the harsh whip of the cruel King Gerard Argent, and trusting Derek - trusting anyone - is beyond difficult.

xcaellachx

Just check out this author, there's some major angst in a lot of their works, a lot of ABO

Hung The Moon by nrnyx

(Explicit, 85k, ABO, Pack Dynamics, Heavy Angst)

Slowly Stiles got control of himself again. His heart calmed. His breathing evened out. The anger was gone. In its place, a bone-deep weariness settled. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t survive this.

A gift worth giving by Nival_Vixen

(Mature, 2k, Historical Fantasy, Royalty)

A person’s virginity is not only the physical act itself, but also an object that can be gifted to someone else. Stiles has given his virginity to Derek, one of the soldiers in the King’s Guard. Despite his parting promise to return the next month, Derek still hasn’t returned two months later, and Stiles doubts that he ever loved him at all.

The Bargain by dr_girlfriend

(Teen, 9,7k, Arranged Marriage, Regency AU)

Time drags on, and it becomes apparent that this is not a part of the tradition. The wolves start to shift on their feet and murmur, but no one attempts to speak to Stiles. He stands, feeling the back of his neck growing red from the sun and his face growing red from embarrassment.

What will happen if Derek Hale cannot be coerced to the altar? Will the bargain be revoked?

Perception by DiscontentedWinter

(Mature, 5,4k, Horror, Nogitsune, Murder)

Peter Hale's client is a murderous sociopath. The best thing Peter can do is get him committed to Eichen House, where he'll never see daylight again.

He thinks.

The Omega Spark by misteeirene

(Explicit, 62k, ABO, Alive Hales, Pack Dynamics)

John lived a sad and lonely life after the death of his wife, until one day when he noticed someone had breaking into his home while he was at work.

Second Chances by rootbeer

(Gen, 2,6k, Soulmates)

"A lot of times the ‘markings’ were common, simple things you said to strangers all the time. 'Excuse me'; 'thank you'; 'hello'. Some got extremely romantic things like 'it’s you isn’t it? I’ve been waiting for you' or 'Wow you’re really pretty'. And they were always the first words their soulmate would ever say to them.

Of course, having 'You are the fucking worst kind of person in the world' tattooed down your side, didn’t bode well. How fucked up was Stiles Stilinski that even his fucking Soulmate hated him? High School had been a special kind of hell when all the kids learned what his tattoo said—despite his best efforts to keep it a secret."

My Wolf by Dexterous_Sinistrous

(Teen, 7,6k, ABO, Full-shift werewolves, Pack Dynamics)

“If he wants to mate Stiles, why not let him?” Jackson asked, ready to part with Stiles if need be.

“Because if I did that, I’d be demoting Lydia,” Alpha Stilinski replied.

“We don’t even know how good of a Beta he is,” Lydia countered, bristling some that her status was being challenged.

“That’s because he’s not a Beta,” Alpha Stilinski stated. “He’s an Alpha.”

I Shouldn't Love you Anymore by wulfarchival (wyrmwolf)

(Mature, 2,2k, Established sterek, Feral Derek)

After Stiles divorces Derek under mysterious reasons, Derek moves out into the middle of nowhere loosing himself to the wolf after the ache in his chest becomes too much. But after weeks of being lost to an animal someone he thought he'd never see again returns in his life.

This time to stay forever.

Cut to the Bone by standinginanicedress

(Explicit, 112k, ABO, Secret Relationship)

“Not that it’s any of your god damn business, but my name is Stiles. Do you need something?”

The alpha grins. All teeth, shiny white, straight as an arrow. He’s got this sculpted perfection to him that Stiles is sure has worked on all the omegas he’s ever encountered before, but Stiles stands his ground and narrows his eyes. “A date.”

Stiles looks him up and down, slowly, from the black shoes on his feet, to his uniform khakis and blazer littered with pins, to his face. He frowns, makes a face, and says, “pass.”

Life After This by Nimpalous

(Mature, 5,1k, Violence, MCD, Soul Bond, I consider this having a HE)

Feeling his weight shift backwards over the ledge when another bullet hit, Stiles closed his eyes and whispered the name of his beloved as he fell.

“Derek…”

Derek woke up with an agonising scream, his body curling in on itself in pain. He wasn’t aware of having wolfed out, he didn’t know he was clawing himself as he clutched at his head, willing the agony to go away… but to no avail.

Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill

(Mature, 70k, Time Travel, Mates, ptsd!Stiles)

"There . . ." Stiles swallowed and looked down at the bottle in his grasp as he slowly swirled the amber liquid inside. "There's really nothing left. For me. Everyone is . . . gone, and it feels like I haven't thought of tomorrow in years." His words rang in the air like a gunshot, he took another heavy drink. "I would trade every last breath I take to just have another shot—not even a guarantee, just a chance to make things right and bring back even one of them."

The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

It seems wasted now by DaaroMoltor

(Teen, 48k, Slow Burn, Miscommunication, Stiles is pushed out of the pack)

It's been months. Months of lonely days and lonelier nights.

And Stiles can't understand what he did wrong.

Under Glass by calrissian18

(Mature, 6,6k, Pining, Cursed Stiles)

The pack goes looking for a cursed artifact. Stiles would really like to go back to the time before he found it, thanks.

Time To Say Goodbye by matildajones

(Teen, 34k, Time Travel, Mates, HE)

Derek finds an older version of himself at his front door, along with Stiles, a boy from the future.

Emissary by dragon_temeraire

(Teen, 3,7k, Alive Hales, Bonding)

To keep the peace, Stiles agrees to be emissary to the Hale pack.

One Thread by RurouniHime

(Mature, 11k, Established sterek, Grief, HE)

In the middle of the night, his dad comes into the room and crawls onto the bed behind him, easing Stiles into the vee of his legs. He settles back against the headboard with a groan and doesn’t say anything for a long time. Stiles wraps his arms around one of his dad’s legs, presses his cheek to warm flannel, and tries to be still.

“Oh, kid,” his dad exhales. His hand comes down on the side of Stiles’ neck and his fingers press gently. “I never wanted you to know this pain.”

(Or, Derek dies. Stiles reacts Badly.)

Now with part two!

[masterlist link]

[colorful-white-ideas]

I got this message from littleegle16 sharing her experience on interacting with Valter

it's long so that's why I share it like a post so you decide if you wanna read it or not. It's well written so the reading flows nicely.

" Ok, I've decided to just go for it and share my experience(s). This might be quite long but I want to get/share as much as possible. deep breath I had my first exposure to a Skarsgard during the years of True Blood (who didn't). I LOVED Eric and thought he was much better for Sookie than Bill or Alcide. I was upset by the ending of the series bc according to the books Sookie and Eric actually DO end up getting married.

Anyway, years after the series finale, I was living in my first apartment and decided to put on some Netflix and I kept seeing this show in the top 10 but never watched - until I got bored and decided to give it a go. Which led to my introduction to Bill through the show Hemlock Grove. At first I didn't know anything about him or his family. After a couple episodes I saw his last name and thought, "why does that name sound/look so familiar?" Of course, I did the research after that and started to familiarize myself with this beautiful acting family dynasty. (Not sure if I said that right? Would it be "beautiful FAMILY acting dynasty" or was I correct the way I had it?) Moving on…

I realized I had already seen Stellan in a few things but wasn't as impressed as I was in his sons so far. Although I admit, I could stand to watch more of Stellan's work to gain a more balanced and fair perspective. Gustaf - I started watching Vikings and Cursed but wasn't impress as there were some inaccuracies regarding religion in both. I want to watch his Swedish films. I feel he'll be more genuine(?) bc it's his own country and language, if that makes sense.

Then, I began watching and comparing films and acting between Alex and Bill. As of right now, they both give each a run for the other's money. I think it comes down to the story and character they both choose to sign onto. I see Alex chooses a lot more roles that are deep and even have a psychological element to them (i.e. Mute, Hold the Dark, Big Little Lies [abuse can be categorized as an aspect of psychology], Melancholia, The East). Bill is more of a physical and very dark character-driven/building actor (i.e. Pennywise, Count Orlock, Erick [The Crow], Castle Rock, BKW). Yes, sometimes their movies overlap in physical, psychological, character-driven aspects (Tarzan, Simple Simon, The Devil All the Time, The Kill Team, The Northman) but in general the movies and characters they choose present a bit of a pattern between the two.

Valter - everything he was in prior to Zebrarummet was horrible imo. He always had the same facial expression and demeanor. It's like he played the same character in every project he ever did. I won't lie, I thought he was so cute, so I would keep looking and watching his films. Mostly to see if there would be any change in his technique but there wasn't. What kept me from turning off the movie was the talent of all the other actors and the storyline. Zebrarummet is when his acting really started to take a positive turn imo. He admitted in a Swedish interview that he took acting lessons in NY for awhile. I tried to find the link to it but can't find it, so don't quote me on it until we have the link for that - unless I'm mistaken. Katla has been my favorite so far in terms of story and of course, I saw him in Bjore and thought he did a wonderful job. I HAD to watch this bc my brother played ice hockey for most of his life and therefore, we've always been a hockey family.

*Side note - I went to school for Theatre and music so when I watch movies/TV shows, I don't just want a good story I pay attention to acting skills/talent and the soundtrack. Yes, I can be THAT person. Sorry it's been long so far. I wanted to give a little back story to my interest/appeal/attraction/first exposure… (whatever word you want to use) to the Skarsgard family. As you can see it hasn't been THAT long since I started to really follow them and their projects. But I also don't consider myself a die hard fan, either. I haven't seen ALL of their movies and TV shows they've all been in and refuse to do so unless I find the description interesting enough and so far, I've been pretty picky regarding Stellan, Valter, and Gustaf. Alex and Bill seem to choose projects that really pique my interest. Then again, they're both more Hollywood than Stellan, Valter, and Gustaf. So, most of their projects are going to gain the attention of, and resonate more with Americans.

So - now we get to the nitty gritty of my interaction(s) with Gustaf and especially, Valter. I will also preface this section with - I understand there will be some who will call me all sorts of names for "bashing" their favorite actor(s). I also understand that SOME of my actions were… a little over the top and maybe even to some degree, crossing the line or boundary. However, I look at it as proving I'm not addicted to these people and see them as just that - people.

This was probably sometime in 2018. I created an IG account for the first time in a few years and started adding friends, people who had similar interests and some of my favorite celebs (not just Skarsgards). I think at this point Valter was the only Skarsgard who had an account. I never commented on his posts aside from "liking" them. I remember when he started dating Jade and thinking how cute they were. Then I saw how fast they were moving and thought, "my goodness, that was fast." Still, I said nothing; at first. Eventually, I thought I'd do something nice for them. I messaged Valter and asked if I could send him a gift. I was shocked that he actually replied and said, yes! Although, I didn't actually know what I was going to send. I decided that since he mentioned on his IG that Jade's bday was coming up that I'd send some flowers.

*Another side note - at the time this was going on, I was working for a fraud prevention research department for a multi-million dollar company. We were taught how to verify people's information by using certain websites and a specific program to look up some of their private information. We use their information to form security questions to ensure that the people who call in are the real customer. I hope it made sense in the way I just explained it.

I googled a Stockholm flower shop and chose the cheapest one I saw. I then used my research skills that I acquired from my job and entered his physical address so the flowers would get delivered. I got the purchase confirmation email but never received a delivery confirmation. After a week I went back to the website and chatted online with a worker at the shop. They told me they didn't see my order anywhere. Which we both thought was strange seeing as I had an order number to give. I decided to try again and placed another order. Same thing happened, no delivery confirmation email. So, I decided to reach out to Valter to see if they received it already. I didn't think he'd respond to me again via IG message so I went on Twitch (yes, I created a Twitch account for this. I spent quite a bit of money and wanted to make sure it was delivered). I asked him point black in the chat section, while he was answering questions from people, if Jade received flowers.

Valter - "What flowers?" Me - "I messaged you on IG asking if I could send you both a gift and you said yes. I chose to send flowers to you guys especially bc of Jade's bday." Valter - blocked me I was then hounded by people who told me I was delusional, weird, a stalker etc. I heard it all. I was so confused and frustrated. First, he gave me permission to send him a gift and then when I ask if he/they received it, he blocks me. I didn't understand at all. I quickly deleted the Twitch account AND my IG account as well. I felt like he slapped me in the face just because I wanted to perform an act of kindness. Blocked over flowers. My boyfriend at the time (who's now my husband) called him a douche for treating me like that.

After a couple weeks I realized it was mostly my fault. I didn't consider CULTURAL DIFFERENCES. In the U.S. when we receive gifts, even from acquaintances and strangers, such as flowers or simple letters/cards, we accept and appreciate those little acts of kindness. We think of it as, "this person took time out of their day to do something for me in the hope that it would bring a smile to my face. Or if I was going through a hard time they hoped it would brighten my day." In a world where so much tragedy and trauma are everywhere, these little acts of kindness and compassion are beautiful to the average American. However, I imagine you have to get permission to do this in Sweden. Like you have to know the person or perhaps they don't do this at all unless it's a relative, close friend, or partner/spouse. So, yes, I take most if not full accountability for my momentary lack of judgement here. If I could apologize to him directly, I would.

This still brings me to his reaction, though. I still feel he could've responded in a more mature way. I hoped he would've said, "Look, I appreciate the gesture you were trying to make but in the future, remember for me and my culture, it's inappropriate to do that, but thanks anyway." Or something along those lines. I felt like his reaction wasn't just cold but emotionally immature. Just because you come from a different culture doesn't mean you can't be nice, or at least TRY to be.

I didn't pay that much attention to him for like a year and a half or so. I focused on work and just did me. Then 2020 came around and I started to check on his IG but I never opened up another account. I was able to see his posts via google search and started to see his posts were very anti-American. I knew this was mostly because of the 2020 election coming up. Normally, I don't care how ppl vote or what their views on politics are however, I felt Valter was going way to far. Bashing, mocking, criticizing, and ridiculing millions of ppl who are different from you and PRETENDING to know what's best for a country that's not even yours was too much for me.

It wasn't until the end of the year I put aside any ounce of mutual understanding and respect for cultural differences I gained from the flower fiasco and decided…..to write a handwritten letter to him myself. I'll generalize it - i basically told him he was being ignorant and extremely arrogant. I told him that it's one thing to ask questions, which is good. It shows you want to learn and have a mutual understanding of other people's differences but all he was doing was labeling people from 1,000's of miles away about a country he clearly knew nothing about. I told him to do better. I gave him my email but didn't expect him to respond, which he didn't. I'm not upset about it; I said what I said and did what I did. Although, not long after I sent it, he stopped posting anti-American rhetoric. I don't know if he actually read it or not. He could've said, "I don't know anyone from the U.S." and immediately chucked it into the trash. Either way, I won't apologize for this one. *Sorry for the slightly political implication, but it's kinda part of my experience of why I chose reaching out/interacting with him. After that, I only occasionally checked his account and kept up with my own life, moved into my sister's house and saw my nephews everyday, got married, we moved into our apartment and celebrated our first year anniversary this year. Recently, I saw that most of his posts were so pessimistic and he even posted a story on IG about being in despair. I went on Twitch again to ask if he was ok/how he was holding up. I didn't hear his reply so I said something along the lines of, "based on your posts you seem a little down lately…kinda reminds me of my brother…" Now, the reason I stated that last sentence was bc my brother went through something where he also became very pessimistic and depressed. To be honest, he still isn't 100% after what happened to him. So, whenever I see someone in a state of pessimism or very negative mindset, I'm the kind of person that's going to reach out and see if I can help or if that person is ok. Well, you would've thought I punched Valter in the face. His moderators practically bit my head off for comparing him to my brother and called me parasocial. Me - "It's parasocial for expressing concern for another human being?" moderators - "…we know what he does and doesn't like (to be asked) now cool it" (I'm generalizing a little here) Me - "geez. moderators are brutal" moderators - "rather be brutal than parasocial." Me - "Am I not allowed to express concern for another human being?" moderators - "no" (to be fair, they didn't @ me when I saw this response so not 100% sure they actually responded to me or someone else but it came seconds after I sent my last post. I then found out he already answered my question and he even responsed again and said, "I mean, I'm alright but just like, chill." sigh once again, I was frustrated. I left Twitch and….that's where I'm at now. That was my last interaction with Valter Skarsgard.

A few things to wrap this up:

1) I understand this is mostly a Bill (and Alida) blog but celebrity tea is the best tasting beverage when you're out of sweet wine.

2) I understand many people will say that it SEEMS parasocial of me to have reached out to Valter this many times, especially after the flower fiasco. However, I've looked up the traits of this diagnosis: a: Positive information learned about the media persona results in increased attraction… - clearly I haven't seen much POSITIVE attributes in his behavior and speech. b: It also talks about the "loyal follower" losing their own identity and conforming their lifestyle, the way they dress and even changing their opinions and perspectives on issues. - To which I respond with an emphatic HELL, NO. I disagree with him on most things he talks/posts on social media. There's other traits but when I went to multiple websites to read them, I'm soooo NOT parasocial. 3) I understand many will also not believe a word I say. Afterall, I admitted to deleting my account(s) and knew this would also be an issue when sharing my experience(s). Just like 'rose anon' I've added some intrigue and speculation to your blog :)

4) I understand people might also wonder why I continued to engage with him after the flower fiasco. It's a legitmate question and one which I've been asking myself as well. I mean, it was easy to reach out bc of how engaged he is on social media compared to his other family members. I also feel it's just bc that's part of having a social media in the first place. To engage, share ideas, perspectives and views on a plethora of issues and topics. Even from total strangers from all over the world. 5) Just like 'rose anon' I don't care what anyone believes or doesn't believe. This was my experience(s) with Valter Skarsgard and though I believe he's great at what he does, I'm not going to slobber all over and idolize him. I won't hang on his every word OR support and agree with everything he says and does just because of who he is. Or any celebrity for that matter.

I also have many things to say about his contradiction in dating Melina but perhaps that's best for a separate ask. My interaction with Gustaf was just one time and it can be categorized as having to do more with politics. So, not sure you want to post that one. There you have it, folks. I did my best and if you don't believe me I hope I at least entertained you for a good while. "