#why does weight define anything?

[gghostwriter]

One Single Thread of Gold

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 2 Summary: The three times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the one time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes Trope: Fluff! Just fluff and team banter! w.c: 4.0k a/n: For some reason, my earlier post on this disappeared dunno why. But this is a very self indulgent fic as reader’s background is basically based on the industry I work in. I had a lot of fun writing the team banter and I hope you enjoy it too! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗

The first clue presented itself on a dull Wednesday night as the team, minus Hotch and Rossi, were leaving the bullpen after a full day of pushing papers. Penelope in all of her sunshine and colorful glory was buzzing about these accessories that she once spotted on a storefront window.

“I saw a pair of earrings and a matching necklace that would look so good with that top you bought the other day, JJ. You know, the blue one with those soft sleeves—they would look great with it. It’s tres boho chic.”

JJ smiled, opening her mouth to reply, but Spencer beat her to it.

“Did you know that boho chic was actually a response to political and social movements?”

“Wait, what?” Emily interjected.

He took her disbelief as a sign to continue on. “Yeah, yeah. There’s an article written about it in Vogue—softness and femininity historically appears in moments of political stress and war. Just like in the 70s with the hippie and anti-war movement that defined their style as a generation.”

They all piled into the elevator and turned to face the boy genius like he grew another head. For all they knew, this could be a clone and a very bad one at that. The Spencer Reid that they knew had absolutely no interest in the realms of fashion.

Penelope was the first to break the silence. “Vogue?”

“Kid, what gives? Just the other time, you didn’t know how many shoes a woman owns and now you’re some kind of expert?” Derek asked with both eyebrows raised.

“Did not knowing activate some kind of button that made you want to read about it?” Emily added on, feeling like she was in some kind of TV prank show.

“What?” Spencer licked his lips, nervous with all the attention on him. He felt like he was about to slip something up that he had been keeping to himself for a while now. A hidden precious gem that was you. “I—I like to read.” A believable excuse except his voice went up an octave, giving him away.

The three women shared a look.

“But you read academic textbooks and classic literature,” JJ stated.

Penelope added on. “Not fashion magazines.”

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to reading. If it’s interesting—” he shifted his weight one side to another, thinking that the ride down on the elevator seemed to be taking slower than usual. “—I’ll read it.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes. She was no profiler but she could smell a lie from a mile away way. That wasn’t the whole truth. Dr. Spencer Reid was hiding something.

“Okay, see you tomorrow!” he squeaked out as he ran out of the elevator once it hit the lobby.

She turned to the three profilers, stunned with the boy genius’ erratic behavior. “Huh, did anybody else get the feeling that Spencer was hiding something?”

“Maybe, but the kid does read a lot. Maybe he just ran out of books.” Morgan shrugged.

The other two profilers tilted their heads and slowly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t far off on something Spencer would do. He did once pick up a pamphlet in the airport to read as mentioned before to her by Derek, granted it was for a case but still, Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else.

So when she arrived home that very same night, she propped up her laptop and got to digging. Boy Genius was hiding something big and Little Miss Oracle of Quantico can find anything with her tech skills. She’ll get to the bottom of this mystery, once and for all.

———

Spencer was glad to be coming home to your presence. Having spied the lights still on from the outside of the apartment, he took the steps two at a time, excited to see his 2nd favorite person after his mother—you.

“Spence?” You called out, having heard the mahogany front door open. “Is that you, baby?”

“Hey, love. I missed you,” he deposited his satchel to the nearby sofa and ran to give you a hug.

You burrowed yourself into his arms. All the muscles in your body relaxing as you caught a whiff of his cedar wood perfume—the same scent you’ve gifted to him during the early stages of dating. “I missed you too. How was your day?”

“Better now with you,” his words coming out muffled as he refused to detach himself from the embrace. “Actually, I almost slipped up today.”

You extricated from his arms to give him an inquisitive look. The slight scrunch on your nose and raised brows made his heart flutter. How expressive, free, and trusting you were. It reminded him of your first encounter. How you teasingly asked him if he was a serial killer when he offered you a ride home in the pouring rain and how you easily accepted regardless.

“Yeah? Did any of them catch on?” you probed as you pulled him by his belt loops to the direction of the bedroom.

He laughed, finding your aggression cute. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Maybe we should schedule dinner with them sometime,” you coyly suggested as you slowly started to unravel his tie. “I mean, we’ve been together for over a year now and I have moved into your apartment, under the guise of watering your plants while you’re away. Which is a lie, by the way—”

“I have plants!” he protested. His hands divesting you out of his sweater, bringing to view his favorite silk set in deep purple that accentuated your skin and the blush on your cheeks.

“—that I brought over, Spence,” you quipped back. “But don’t worry, I won’t spill how the intelligent FBI agent fooled naive me into moving in with him.”

There was a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Love, I wouldn’t exactly call you naive—” his voice going an octave lower. “—not when you’re looking at me with those tempting eyes of yours.”

Giggling, you leaned in for a kiss, one that he quickly took over. His calloused dominant hand wrapped around the back of your neck, effectively caging you in while his other cradled your cheek—a stark contrast to the other. Kissing Spencer had always felt like a religious experience that you never want to part from.

Reluctantly pulling away, you caught glimpse of his need for you. His hazel eyes now dark as ink, nostrils slightly flared, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his dominant hand dug into the fleshy nape of your neck. It made you feel desirable, like the goddess that he would call you when he’s on his knees tasting nectar from the source.

The discussion of inviting the team out for dinner was long forgotten. No other words were spoken as you pushed him on the bed—only the cries of his and your name and moans of ‘yes’ echoed well into the night.

***

The second clue was uncovered when Spencer walked into the cold windy bullpen with new black cardigan adorning his lithe body. It was non-descriptive to the untrained eye but for fashion enthusiast Penelope Garcia, she knew what those four white lines on the sleeve meant—luxury label and priced well above their pay grade.

She narrowed her eyes. The Spencer she knew wouldn’t dare spend his salary on anything besides limited first edition books. Something was truly up and she planned to get to the bottom of it as her initial online search turned up nothing.

“Reid, that’s a really nice sweater,” she complimented, throwing in her bait.

He smiled. The thought of who gave it to him warmed his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks Garcia.”

Her sparkly pink kitten heels clacking on the floor as she came closer. “Can I see it?” she innocently asked.

The request threw Spencer off the loop but thought nothing of it as he shrugged and handed it to her—still warm from body temperature.

Her squeals caught the attention of the other profilers filling into the office.

“What is it, baby girl?” Morgan deposited his bag on the table and stationed himself beside her. “It’s Reid’s new sweater. Are you seeing something I’m not seeing?”

Garcia rolled her eyes. This was why females are considered more observant that their sex counterpart. Her chocolate thunder was a profiler but how could he not notice what she was deducing?

“Huh,” Emily surmised. “Based on the fibers, it’s definitely not polyester. Possibly a 100% wool, what do you think, JJ?”

“It says here on the tag—100% virgin wool,” she read out loud. “That makes it very expensive, right Garcia?”

The colorful tech analyst smiled. Her girls could never let her down. “Right you are, girlfriends! But it’s not only that, this—” pointing at the four stripes on the sleeve. “—this is a signature Thom Browne detail. Their prices go up to at least 600 dollars—” they all turned to Reid who seemed clearly agitated. “—now why does our boy wonder have a piece that could buy at most five cute heels?”

With his vast intellect, he couldn’t think of a way to weasel out of this impromptu interrogation. He couldn’t very well say that it was a gift now could he? If he did, that would lead to another hard hitting question ‘from who?’ He raked his hand through his curly hair, taking the same path as yours did just earlier as you gave him a kiss goodbye.

When you gifted him the cardigan from your last New York business trip, he really thought nothing of its material equivalence, besides feeling grateful and loved. It was proof that you paid attention to even the littlest details about him.

“Hey Spence, I got you something,” you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. The first thing you had done when you got home was run into his arms. A simple act that healed his aching heart from missing it’s other half.

You reached into your luggage, enthusiastically pulling out the black clothing wrapped in tissue paper like some magician pulling out a rabbit from a hat. “Here you go!”

“A new sweater!” He exclaimed.

You rocked on your heels, looking bashful as you explained the reasoning behind it. “I noticed you fidgeting when you wore the cardigan JJ gifted you last Christmas, the polyester fibers used on it must have been really itchy so I got you a new one—” your eyes widened at how your explanation could be taken the wrong way. “—not that her gift wasn’t great! No, it was very cute! It’s just—I want you to be comfortable and protected during your cases in cold states. Polyester is a good insulator of heat but wool is still the best.”

He loved how unabashed you rambled about your interests. That was one of the first things he piqued his notice. How you liked to share your knowledge about the fashion industry that you work for but never coming across as stuck up or snobby, you just genuinely wanted to educate anyone who had a wrong perception of the billion dollar commerce. Admittedly, he was one of them but hearing you rave about it’s nitty-gritty details and socio-economic movements changed his mind. It also helped that a beautiful and intelligent woman, such as yourself, was educating him.

He pulled you in for a kiss, stopping all the worries that ran through your head. “I love it. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing at all, baby. I like taking care of you. Just like how you take care of me,” you reasoned. “Plus I got it on sale courtesy of the magazine connections.”

A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. It was Penelope with an eyebrow raised at the subtle smile that graced his face while he replayed the moment in his head.

“Okay,” Morgan drawled. “What’s got you smiling, Pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” he squeaked out, turning to see Hotch make his way across the office. Spencer hurriedly collected his things and started to move even before their unit chief could call their attention.

“We have a case,” Hotch announced.

The remaining BAU members all looked at each other, silently communicating about Reid’s irregular demeanor, before piling into the conference room for another grueling scene of murder.

“He’s been acting weird,” Garcia rushed out. “Definitely hiding something. What do you think, Em?”

Emily nodded. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“A girl?” JJ guessed.

“Yes, must be a special one for him to keep secret for so long,” Garcia surmised. “Do you think he’ll hate it if I go further digging around to find out who she is?”

“Further?” Emily clarified.

JJ laughed. “Probably, let’s wait for him to volunteer the information. Okay, Garcia?”

She sighed, shoulders drooping, before nodding in agreement.

***

The third clue was quite literally handed to Penelope Garcia on the jet after a case when she accompanied the team.

“Cold Alaska is so not good for my skin,” she grumbled as she rummaged her bottomless bag for her favorite hand cream. “I love going with you all on trips rather than being stuck in my own tech cave but the weather wasn’t it.”

Morgan chuckled. “Aw c’mon baby girl, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our time together?”

“You, my sculpted hunk, and the fireplace were the highlight,” Penelope turned to the other female profilers. “My beauties, do any of you have lotion? I think I lost mine.”

Before JJ or Emily could even utter a word, a tube made its way to her lap courtesy of her seat mate, Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Reid, since when do you carry lotion?” Emily inquired.

He shrugged. “Hand cream has it’s benefits besides from moisturizing the skin, it also provides an additional layer of protection. Depending on it’s properties, it can also repair and undo damage.”

The females all shared a look. This was another unexplainable behavior from their resident genius.

“We know that,” JJ stated. “We just thought you didn’t.”

His brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, besides from the fact that you’ve never shown interest about skincare before, isn’t it a stereotype for men not to know? Unless—” Emily slyly smiled and nodded at Garcia to continue.

“Unless you have a girlfriend that we don’t know about,” Garcia bounced on her seat.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Spencer’s eyes widened in alarm. He didn’t realize he was walking into a trap before it was too late. “What makes you say that?”

They laughed.

JJ started. “Besides from you suddenly being knowledgeable in fashion—“

“—or having a pricey sweater you’d never buy for yourself—” Emily added on.

“Or, or—“ Garcia reached out to touch his hand. Which made Spencer react with a high pitched call of her name. “—having a shea butter lotion with rough hands!” She waved the tube up in the air. “Plus, this is half empty. So either it’s not working which I doubt since this is a good brand or you keep this in your bag for a special someone to use!”

Derek chuckled. “Baby girl, you could be a profiler at this point.”

“Oh tell me something I don’t know,” she quipped back. “So Reid, want to tell us the truth?”

He sighed, finding no escape. “Yes, yes I have a girlfriend.”

The girls all shrieked with laughter and their own corresponding questions of who is she? How did you meet? How long has this been going on? What does she do for a living? Is she pretty? Oh I bet she is!

“Looks like that cat is out of the bag,” Rossi nonchalantly stated.

Four sets of eyes turned to look at one of the BAU founders. “Rossi, you knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Garcia gasped, a hand to her chest at the thought of betrayal.

He laughed. “I caught them on a dinner date once and our boy wonder over here—“ nodded in Reid’s direction. “—begged me not to out him yet, said he wanted to be the one to tell the team the news but that was like what, six months ago?”

“Six months ago?” Emily repeated.

“Wait, wait. Hotch, don’t tell me you also knew?” Morgan asked.

The unit chief smiled. “She was added to Reid’s emergency contact last February.”

“February? That’s almost a year ago!” JJ sputtered out.

The tech analyst turned to glare at the youngest member of the BAU. “Reid, you better start spilling all the details or so help me, I will stalk all your digital footprint when we land until I find out who she is, where she lives, and what her deepest darkest secret is.”

“What about hearing it all from her, instead?” He rubbed the back of his neck. The secrecy had gone on for so long and there was no time like the present to introduce his chosen family to his chosen partner—hopefully until the end of time. “She wants to treat you all out for dinner tonight.”

All four nodded vigorously as they watched him pull out his phone and send a quick text to which you readily replied and agreed to.

“My man,” Derek sighed. “Can’t believe you got a girlfriend without me being your wingman.”

“Answer me at least this, is she pretty and does she make you happy?” Garcia asked. No matter how nosey she may be, she only wanted the best for Spencer and if the recent lightness and smiles were all caused by his mystery girlfriend, she already approved.

“The prettiest,” Spencer gushed out. “She’s my own personal sunshine.”

The three girls melted into their seats. Their youngest was all grown up waxing prose over his lover.

“She makes you sappy too,” Derek teased.

***

[EXTRA - When the mystery was uncovered]

Spencer had never felt any more nervous that this moment as he, with the rest of the team minus Hotch and Rossi, wait for your arrival. He sat with his back to the restaurant entrance and his cardigan laying on the empty seat beside him as a reservation mark. His eyes had been going back and forth to his idle phone and to the conversation the team was having.

Morgan noted his state of distress and chuckled. “You okay there, lover boy? She’s still coming right, your mystery girlfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah. She said she was on her way 9 minutes and 24 seconds ago and based on the route and traffic, she should have been here 45 seconds earlier. Just worried that something might have happened.”

Penelope leaned in, picking on her bubblegum pink choice of drink as she did. “You know, if you just told me her name I could have tracked every movement by now and you wouldn’t be sitting here worrying.”

“What—no Garcia, I don’t want her tracked plus she didn’t want you to know everything about her even before meeting her,” his voice going up an octave in your defense.

She shrugged. “I’m just saying. I mean we don’t know a single thing about her—”

“We do know she exists and you’ve been together for almost a year now,” Emily interjected.

“Actually, it’s been more than year—one year and 124 days to be exact.”

“Buttercup, all I’m saying is we don’t even know how she looks—” Garcia gasped, having spotted a passerby on the window and what she was wearing. “Oh my gosh, that maroon coat is to die for and that textured leather bag—I wonder if I could track her down and ask where she got it.”

“Oh she’s pretty,” JJ noted.

Derek smirked. “Baby girl, tell me if you plan to ask her ‘cause I wouldn’t mind asking for her number.”

The tech analyst’s eyes further widened as she noted the attractive woman going inside the restaurant.

“You weren’t kidding about that coat, Garcia, it looks really nice,” JJ appraised.

Emily squinted her eyes, taking note of the garment in question. “It looks high quality, probably vintage and—is she going near us?”

“Oh gods, she is! Act natural, act natural!” Penelope chanted as she repeatedly slapped Derek’s arm.

The stranger stopped behind Spencer. “Hey handsome,” your melodic voice was a siren that called to his every being. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped as she took in Derek’s flustered reaction.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, getting picked up in such a public setting was new even for him—the ladies man of the BAU.

You laughed. “Well, you too but I was more of talking to this lover of mine—“ you bent down, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek. “Hey, Spence.”

A series of gasps were heard all around the table.

The youngest stood up and turned to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, Y/N. I was starting to get worried.”

“I missed the train, sorry I forgot to send an update,” you explained as he helped you into your seat.

Promptly seating back down, he angled his body to yours—all attention on you as if you were the only one in the room. And in a way you were, with how molten his doe eyes stared, alternating between yours and your painted lips that begged to be kissed.

He always felt breathless when you were near. It was as if he found his very own Aphrodite to worship here on earth. Spencer was no believer of fates or destiny but he would pray and light a candle if he needed to, just to keep you his. Your intelligent mind complimenting his, your outgoing personality that draws anyone in, and your face that could launch a thousand ships.

Those eyes that could read the deepest crevices of his fiber of being. Those cheeks that begged to be caressed by his calloused hands. Those soft lips that deserved to be kissed and devoured until you, in turn, were as breathless as he was. He suddenly wished you both were anywhere else but here—specifically in the confines of the apartment where he was free to express his love, devotion, and adoration until you scream his name and beg him to stop. His hand, having found it’s way to your thigh, squeezed the flesh three times—communicating his promise to have your hair laid around you like a halo as you lay under him, bare and writhing with need.

The blonde on the other end of the table cleared her throat, cutting through the tension.

“Okay, Spence,” she smiled. “Mind introducing us to your girlfriend?”

He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a series of sweet kisses on your knuckle. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the rest of the team. Morgan—“ he gestured to each one. “Emily, JJ, and Garcia.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you!” You exclaimed. “So sorry we’re only meeting now. We wanted to stay in our little bubble for as long as we could plus this handsome FBI agent—” you nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “—wanted to keep me to himself. But where’s Aaron and Dave?”

Emily whispered under her breath. “Aaron? Dave?”

“They had prior commitments, love. They did send their regards and Rossi wants to invite you to the next gathering at his mansion,” Spencer explained.

“Love?” Penelope squeaked out. This was really starting to feel like Twilight zone for the team members.

You nodded. “I’ll definitely plot it on my calendar. Now, I heard you had some questions for me?”

“How’d you two meet?” JJ asked.

“When was the first date?” Emily inquired.

Penelope brought out a pen and paper. “What’s you social security number?”

Derek snorted at that. “Do you have any other siblings?”

Spencer’s eyebrows raised further and further up with each question while your shoulders shook with laughter.

“She has all the time in the world to get to know each of you,” Spencer laid out. “No need to make it sound like an interrogation.” He was wishing to keep you forever, if you’d let him.

You smiled as you caressed his cheek, having caught on to the veiled meaning behind his words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[couch-house]

If you've been following me for a while you already know I'm going to tell you to vote for @themetalvirus's Egghog AU in @sonic-au-collision. You know I love drawing those funny little guys. But I think it might be a good idea to actually get into why I find them so compelling! I think any good AU is in conversation with canon,and egghogs is a certified Yapper.

Let's start with our hero, Amy!

Our canon Amy can be characterized by her deep compassion and optimism. As well as how Sonic has inspired her hero crush and motivated her to go out and put that compassion to work herself!* Egghog Amy has that same compassion, but what if she had no choice in being the hero? She had no one to look up to and inspire her, just the crushing weight of necessity. An Amy put in canon Sonic's position, who relies on unceasing and perhaps inappropriate optimism, but is still worn down by the weight of the world. I like this take on her, an exploration of where "toxic positivity" can get you.

*I think the classic IDW Amy characterization is a good example of this. As well as Fleetway Amys origin story heehee

Despite the stress of it all, she still has the optimism to see the best in people and believe they can change for the better. Like, for example, her crush: Egghog Sonic.

Just like canon Sonic, Eggy is a headstrong hedgehog defined by his own moral compass and his need to have a pretty good time. But while canon Sonic is defined by his love of freedom, independence, and by his "coolness," Egghog Sonic has been raised in Eggman's trap of control. He's just as headstrong, but in the opposite direction. His adoptive family is just as important to him as canon Sonic's friends, but in opposition to the good of the world. Where canon Sonic is personally reckless to protect others, Eggy is careless with the safety of others in service to his and his family's needs. Canon Sonic is capricious and relaxed, even in the face of danger, while Eggy is restrained, emotionally stunted, and stressed at all times.

Personally, I think that Egghog Sonic's fighting style being based in ballet--associated with control, restraint, and exclusivity by wealth--opposed to canon Sonic's fighting evoking breakdancing--a sport associated with creativity, play, and its origins as an urban art--does a great job on its own of juxtaposing the two Sonics.

But as I mentioned, even with his morals and freedom in opposition to canon, Egghog Sonic still has that essential connection to the people he cares about: his close-knit (read: highly controlled) family.

Egghog Sonic's younger brother Silver has all of canon Silver's accidental dickishness and ruthlessness, but without the humbling experience of surviving in a ruined future to keep him in check. Born and raised with a silver (ha) spoon in his mouth, Eggy Silver would be killed instantly by canon Silver's upbringing. All his worst qualities have been encouraged (as opposed to canon silver facing consequences for and learning from his flaws) and Eggy Silver is a huge fucking bitch. You know when Silver mugged Tails in Rivals? Okay now imagine if he was raised to do that as a child soldier. Now imagine he gets anything he wants whenever he asks. Thats Egghog Silver. When Silver defects from the Eggpire, we see that appreciation for the world and its history grow back where it belongs. It gives a better appreciation to what motivates canon Silver's view of the world, and recreates it in a new way.

Also the irony of Mr. I Must Fight For The Future's fucked up AU version of himself being part of the cause of the ruined future.... its delicious.

Finally, the oldest brother (by like a couple months...). We all know canon Shadow's had a rough time of it RE: mind control, manipulation, having a whole game where he is asked to be everyones gofer... This is Egghog Shadow's life for a full 15 years. Gerald doesn't finish cooking Egghog, and Eggman is the one to dump him out of the tube and raise him to be the perfect chaos-weilding soldier. He makes liberal use of his ability to physically manipulate Shadow's artificial mind to keep him in line as an endlessly obedient servant. Of course, any Shadow meaningfully based in canon won't stay that way. Just as his canon counterpart breaks free from the demands of those around him to forge his own path, so does Eggy Shadow. Even in the fucking miseries, even without a Maria, Shadow is still will make the choice to walk his own path.

Well, not just his own path. Because while Shadow (esp post-06 Shadow) can be uncompromisingly independent at times, he is still often defined by his friendships. Specifically, his relationship to Rouge is given focus in this AU, being his one reprieve from the empire and ultimately his way out. Canon Shadow had Rouge and Omega by his side during some of his darkest moments and arguably that made all the difference to his arc. Their presence (yes, Omega is here too) during Eggy Shadow's suffering is all the more essential and highlights their roles in canon.

But of course, with greater miseries comes greater struggle to heal. Canon Shadow's neat freak nature gets reinterpreted as a trauma response--maladaptive perfectionism and OCD. (tbc, in the same way fan works often recognize that canon Shadow likely lives with PTSD as a result of his experiences, Egghog Shadow's OCD is presented as an appropriate consequence of the stressful environment he's been raised in.) I like this as an exploration of how Shadow handles stress and trauma, how it might change in different circumstances.

All that to say, Egghog AU is just done in such a compelling way that really grabs me and facilitates Rambling about The Parallels and such. And that I think makes for a GREAT AU. The exploration of Sonic's strong personal morals and headstrong...ness, the benefits and flaws of Amy's intense optimism and compassion, Silver's ruthlessness and meaner side, and Shadow's tendency to introspection and overcorrection... Again I say, a good AU is one that is in conversation with canon, and Egghogs is constantly talking about the fascinating conflicts created by these characters. And thats why you should vote #Egghogs4Eggver

[thetrasha]

Hi! I'm the one who asked for the Straw Hats' ideal types. I'm here to ask the same for other characters: Law, Ace, Sabo, Shanks, and anyone else you want; honestly, I'd read about anyone. Thanks for feeding me <3

Hello anon, thank you so much for your continous interest (●ˇ∀ˇ●) 💕 Glad you like my writing so much and shower me with compliments LOL And I'm so sorry for not replying sooner. I've been sick since Monday morning 🤡I'm still kind of feverish, but I'm recovering

Anyway, this was a lot of fun!!

Ideal Types

feat. LAW, ACE, SABO, SHANKS, BUGGY

Straw Hat crew's version here

LAW

Law needs someone who…

is honest, intelligent and kind

puts more weight behind their actions rather than their words

has a nerdy or geeky quirk

is willing to let him have his space and demands some independence of their own

Law can help you cope with these character flaws:

self-doubt

feelings of inadequacy

seeming cold-hearted (to others)

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

clinginess and being too emotional

Law sees you and knows, because you resemble him so much, that you’re misunderstood. You aren’t cold or arrogant, you’re just a little too… reserved. You naturally distrust people who haven’t proven themselves and he finds comfort in that, eager to do just that. And just like that, the image you’ve wrongfully earned yourself just melts away. Like him, you’re a deep thinker, introspective and self-critical without even trying but nonetheless very much skilled and a valuable addition to any crew. Law feels lucky to have you because it’s validating to have someone around who gets him, who understands every precarious situation and who’s able to see the bigger picture. You trust in his ability to make the right call, assisting him in every step of the way. You watch over him without expecting anything in return, you’re just loyal to a fault and want to show your gratitude. Your actions make him do a double take and he starts talking to you more often. And once your walls crumble, he realises that you’re actually… incredibly cute and kind of… what he’s been waiting for.

ACE

Ace needs someone who…

values family a lot; they need to love the Whitebeard Pirates and Luffy (and Sabo) unconditionally

lives in the moment, but regularly thinks about the past and the “what ifs” of life

wants to prove themselves or others wrong/ wants to achieve great things

is self-aware, caring and compassionate

Ace can help you cope with these character flaws:

self-loathing

impulsivity

people pleasing

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

arrogance and dismissiveness

Ace sees you and, at first, views you as a threat. Deep down, he still cannot come to terms with who he is, and thus believes that you’re the upgrade. You don’t carry the same baggage he does, which means being around you is actually pretty great – and Whitebeard thinks so, too, that’s why you’re on the Moby Dick and not just some random member aboard the grand fleet. Yet… once Ace digs deep and tries getting to know you, he feels terrible for treating you so horribly; you’re unlike anything he’s ever seen. Your hardships are a part of you, but you don’t let the past define who you are, you use it as a tool to improve the present. On top of everything, you don’t push him away after he’s opened up. If anything, you pull him even closer. He’s so, so grateful to have found you. Maybe – just maybe – he’ll learn to like himself… after all, if someone like you can love him so dearly, he cannot be so bad, right?

SABO

Sabo needs someone who…

lives freely without constraints, doesn’t care what other people think about them

pursues a deeply humanitarian dream

is just, hard-working and unique

thinks rather than feels

Sabo can help you cope with these character flaws:

being too idealistic

sorrow

perfectionist tendencies

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

different political ideology and laziness

Sabo sees you and knows you have what it takes. You’re unafraid of tension and you’re quite abrasive when it comes to the intolerable… and your track record is just as impressive. You’re a rare gem who doesn’t sell their principles to get ahead in life – you chose this path out of conviction, not due to a lack of options. Maybe that’s why he recommends you for a position much higher up the ladder where your potential would be seen, where your voice would be heard and matter… Eventually, Sabo would notice a dangerous flutter in his chest every time you worked together. He would linger around you longer than necessary and try to get you to talk about your personal life just to get closer to you. Your story is fascinating, he cannot help but be angry at the world for throwing you away. Well, kind of – you’ve landed right in his arms, so it’s not that bad now, is it?

SHANKS

Shanks needs someone who…

wants to go about life at their own pace

is outgoing, emotionally intelligent and warm

has the street-smarts and strength to defend themselves if it came down to it

hopes for peace and believes in equality

Shanks can help you cope with these character flaws:

procrastination

bottling up negative feelings

stubbornness

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

being too fragile and selfishness

Shanks sees you and doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so eager to be taken care of – you just sniff him out like a hound dog and nag at him about his terrible habits constantly. He thinks it’s sweet that there’s someone amongst his loyal crew members who still believes he would change his ways. They all let go of it at some point.

…Until you don’t let go of it at all. You shadow him and relentlessly pursue his heath and happiness. At first, Shanks wrongfully assumes that you’re trying to be the captain’s favourite, but he could only watch in astonishment as you pull the same stunt on all the others. “Benn, you smoke too much. Roux, why in the world are you lifting that crate by yourself, let me help. Yasopp, you will cook these beans before eating them or so God help us all.” – he hears your voice in his head echoing his own sentiments towards his friends. It suddenly feels too real. You’re just… like this. It’s in your nature to be warm. And you offer the same warmth to… Shanks. Larger-than-life, mythical, legendary Shanks. He’s just another man in your eyes… It makes him nervous.

BUGGY

Buggy needs someone who…

feels rather than thinks

engages in creative activities and has something that fulfils them

is loving, direct/ straightforward and clingy

reassures him and would be his anchor in life, an unshakeable constant

Buggycan help you cope with these character flaws:

deep insecurity/ self-pity

abandonment issues

competitiveness

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

being distant and indifference

Buggy sees you and knows that you’re different from the rest. Not unlike him, to be honest, but that might be wishful thinking. He just feels inexplicably drawn to you; he revels in your proud smile whenever he praises you for a job well done. Sometimes he thinks that you crave his approval just as much as he craves yours… once you tore down his walls, you’re all up in Buggy’s business. Worst thing is that he doesn’t mind at all. He likes having you around, you’re not half as much of an idiot as all the other troglodytes he keeps around. The thing that he doesn’t get is, though… you actually don’t think quite as highly of yourself. It’s not humility, you’re plenty humble, but it reeks of insecurity… and believe him when he says that he knows that stench all too well. Well, you might just need a proper hype man to tell you that you’re the most amazing person to ever walk this wretched Earth, darling! One day you’ll wear that title with pride.

[prismatoxic]

you know... this is framed as such a silly moment that i didn't really consider it before but...

...laios was the only one who respected chilchuck in this scene.

and of course we know why senshi and marcille didn't. senshi still thinks that's child age, as dwarves' age of maturity is 40, a good 20 years older than chilchuck is. and senshi doesn't have the kind of worldly socialization marcille does that lets her understand in any way that chilchuck is an adult (and even then, she sees him as more of a child than she should, because elven age of maturity is 80 and, well. her relationship with time and aging is weird, let's put it that way). she treats him more like a grown man than senshi does, but it's not saying much. (this isn't a diss against either of them, their backstories more than explain why they're like this, and chilchuck doesn't seem to generally hold it against them except when senshi very openly treats him like a kid.)

laios, though. laios is a tall-man. his age of maturity (16) is only 2 years higher than a half-foot's (14). when chilchuck said "this year i turn 29," laios realized chilchuck was his senior and tried to adapt to treating him that way. (in the context of this series being written by a japanese person, this concept holds a lot of extra weight.)

of course, that wasn't actually what chilchuck wanted, and laios resumed treating chilchuck like a peer instead. (remember, chilchuck clearly defines his boundaries, and laios will happily abide by a clearly drawn boundary. a distressed and angry "quit" is taken 100% at face value.) and what's notable about that is that "laios treating chilchuck like a peer" was already valuing him as an adult. even if he didn't know the exact number, laios knew chilchuck was at least around his own age.

i imagine traveling with dandan helped him understand half-foots enough that his blunders when he and chilchuck started working together weren't generally disrespectful in nature. laios would have been able to wrap his mind around "half-foots aren't kids unless they actually say they are" because laios likes clearly defined rules. chilchuck is an adult? okay, he gets treated like one.

and i think it's just as much them both being short-lived races; if he can wrap his head around "height ≠ age" then he also understands whatever age chilchuck is has to be roughly comparable to his own.

and i just think that's neat! i think it's cool how much laios respects chilchuck and there's a sort of irony to the fact that moments like this are, in chilchuck's eyes, more of a nuisance than a sign of respect. but i mean... laios already treats him right. he doesn't need to do anything different.

[cuteandhughesy]

Put Your Hands On Me╰┈➤ WC50

summary: you have a crush on your client, and you’re pretty sure he likes you too. just when will thinks you can’t get any better, you decide to do something about the tension between you.

[word count] 4.5k

warnings: NSFW! personal trainer! reader | flirting | kinda oblivious will | suggestive dialogue | kissing | smut | unprotected p in v intercourse | semi-public sex | creampie | this is basically porn…read at your own discretion

a/n: based off this request! I wasn’t familiar with mr. cuylle before getting a few requests for him, but reading this idea inspired me! so, here we are 😌

🎵 cold sweat by tinashe

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will's teammates are always asking him why he does it to himself. their voices, always tinged with confusion and amusement, constantly pestering him about why he doesn't just use the gym at the rink, but instead goes to the one almost 30 minutes farther.

but they know why, even if will doesn't disclose his reasoning. it's because you're there. you who is also known as his personal trainer. will doesn't even need a trainer—the rangers provide well qualified ones at the rink if he actually wanted one. but they don't wear pastel coloured sets and smile all bright at him. will's so down bad for you that he'll mess up sets on purpose just so you'll come over and touch him in correction.

it's awful and embarrassing—especially when his teammates give him little teasing, knowing looks. it makes will feel like he's in trouble when he hasn't even done anything wrong.

he's just...into you. since when has that become a crime?

"arms up, will." your sweet yet firm tone has will blinking, affectively snapping himself out of his daydream. a daydream where he gets to drag you into the locker room and kiss you and rip your bright pink thighs down and—

you touch him, fingers wrapping around his biceps and adjusting him. suddenly, the dumbbell's clutched in his hands become unbearably heavy—and it's simply because you're close enough that he can smell vanilla perfume mixed with your sweat.

which, will didn't ever think sweat smell would turn him on, but here he is. "right sorry," he says between deep inhales of air, helping in assisting your correction by getting into proper form. you nod and mumble some kind of praise as will starts lifting again, taking a step back to give him space.

your eyes zone in on his arms, watching the way his muscles contract and veins pop under the weights. it's truly hard to focus on your job when will is around. you used to be a professional personal trainer, but ever since will cuylle waltzed into the gym—bright eyed and bushy tailed—professionalism went out the window.

so yeah, maybe you push him extra hard so that his sweat soaks his shirt and gives you a nice view at his defined abs. and okay, yeah, you definitely touch him more than you should—look at him more flirtatiously than any other client of yours. but you can't help it.

and the worse part is, you know will likes you. or at least he wants to fuck you—that much is obvious. you catch him staring at your ass and lips more than the weights in the gym, always blushing when you catch him. but like you said, your professionalism has flown out the window, and you fucking like it. you crave it—crave him.

but no matter how much will likes you, you can't get him to crack. you don't know how much more obvious flirting and longing looks it will take for him to see that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

you reach out again. starting at his elbows, you softly trail your fingers along his arm, following the natural line of muscles up his bicep. "you feel that stretch here?" your words are breathy and low, eyes flickering up to meet his.

will visibly swallows, his reps momentarily stilling. a bead of sweat trails off his jawline from his temple, tempting you as it lazily falls down his neck. you want to reach out and let your tongue swipe it away—nipping at the muscles and tendons in his neck until he has no choice but to rip off your clothes.

"I feel…something for sure." he mutters lowly. will fights off a sharp inhale when you squeeze his biceps. your smirk is only making his cock harden, and soon enough he'll be excusing himself for the bathroom in order to tuck his length into his waistband.

will clears his throat, desperate to stop the dirty thoughts from taking over his head and body. he begins moving again, fingers tightening on the bar—cursing himself when he thinks about them tightening in your hair.

"good—I want it to burn."

he almost wants to laugh. "oh it's definitely burning."

you can't tell if he's trying to save himself or if will is genuinely that clueless. you're practically flaunting your tits in his face today—wrapped tightly in a bubblegum pink sports bra that pushes the fleshiest part of your tits to the sky. you're practically spilling out in invitation.

you watch his eyes, ever so subtle, take a glance at your chest—like usual. you're sweating, just enough to make you look glowy, and will thinks he might collapse. he curses, so low that you barley hear it.

just when you think he’s about to break—take you in his arms and kiss you silly—will drops the weights to the ground, so sudden it makes you blink in surprise, the dumbbells echoing off the padded floor.

"you okay?" you question cautiously. a million things are running through your head as will rubs a hand through his messy, dirty blonde hair—messing up his strands even more. it gives him a rugged, sexy look that makes your clit throb pathetically.

have you read this situation wrong? maybe will doesn't like you and you've made him uncomfortable with what you think is obvious advances. or maybe he's hurt—strained a muscle. it has your trainer side kicking in, and you take a quick step forward.

but will takes a step back, like he can't stand too close to you. your heart pulls uncomfortably, and you have to fight back a frown. "no," he laughs breathlessly, looking away from his shoes and into your curious eyes. you look so soft and beautiful and it's only making him feel like shit.

he feels like such a sleeze. eyeing up his personal trainer while she's just trying to do her job. will clear his throat, "well, yes. i'm fine but i'm also not fine. not at all." the word vomit is building, and it doesn't help when you're just standing there—all pretty lips and perfect body—looking at him like you're waiting for him to break.

will continues, "i'm dying here, y/n. I can't focus on working out when you're here." immediately he closes his eyes, exhaling shakily at his own words. he sounds so fucking stupid.

but you? you're not phased by his admission. "why do you pay me?" you question softly, taking another step in his direction.

his brows furrow, "huh?"

"why. do. you. pay. me?" you repeat slower, the tips of your shoes hitting his. if will wasn't feeling hot before, he is now. your tits are practically brushing his sweat soaked shirt, and your scent is the only thing he can smell—not the rubber mats or sanitizer. just you.

you're waiting for his answer patiently—but there's a glimmer in your eyes that makes him think that you know. a heat wave of embarrassment flushed over him, "because you're my trainer." he tells you dumbly.

there's no one else in the gym to witness this moment, and a part of you thinks that's why you're so bold. you're sick of the cat and mouse game between you—it's been months. months upon months of yearning for his lips, and your nipples pinching anytime he gets close to you.

this time it's your brows that pull. "yeah, but why? do you guys not have PTs at the rink?"

he's so busted. will nods, clearing his throat while simultaneously trying to clear his head. will seriously needs to get a grip of himself before you kick him in the balls for being such a sleaze. "no, uh we do," will stutters.

he tries to look away, but you follow his gaze. not giving him the opportunity. "okay, so why don't you use them?" you push.

if you take one step closer you'll be able to feel his painfully hard bulge. will shuffles back, "because I like you more than them." the answer is pathetic, especially considering a minute ago he said he can't focus working out if you're in the same room.

but much to his shock you just smile. it's not a polite smile like you're about to kick him out of the gym, but rather a playful smile full of teasing and secrets. "you like me?” you naturally trail off, adding a jolt to will's heart with the suspense. "or my boobs?"

yeah, will is seriously going to need to move cities after this conversation. and of course you just had to bring up your boobs—the ones that have been staring at him since he showed up an hour ago. like clockwork you watch his panicked riddled eyes flicker down to your chest, and you can't help but smirk as he snaps out of it—finding your gaze once again.

"what? I like you." will stresses. he almost wants to reach out and shake you in reassurance—because above all, he does actually like you. he doesn't just want to hit it and quit it. he's never been that type of guy. but will doesn't touch you, because right now it's definitely not the time to make this situation any worse.

and will is so sure it's about to take a turn for the worse.

"it's okay, will," you shrug, taking your plump bottom lip between your teeth, "I know you check me out. you're not as subtle as you think you are."

he curses, "fuck. i'm sorry."

"you are?"

if will wasn't so ready to lick his wounds and retreat, he would've caught the suggestive tone to your words and the way you've pushed even closer—nipples poking through your sports bra and brushing his chest.

but because he's so fucking embarrassed and ashamed for liking you, will keeps going. "yeah and if you want to like fire me or something-I don't know if that's how it works, but I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, y/n. I can go." god, he even starts to step back, disconnecting his phone from the speakers—because you always let him play his music—as if he's getting ready to leave.

you grab his bicep, stopping him before he has a chance to hightail and run. "no, I'm not uncomfortable," you mumble, blinking up at him all slowly and syrupy, making wills body all but tighten.

he swallows, "you're not?" a million emotions flash through him; confusion, curiosity, doubt, excitement, hope, and fucking at the top of everything is arousal because apparently he's a teenage boy.

you shake your head slowly, "I like it."

your quiet admission shoots straight down to his dick. "oh shit," will breathes, "really?"

"mhm hmph," you hum lowly, fingers squeezing around the meat of his bicep. expect this time you're not holding back—you're not masking your touch with professionalism. you're simply just feeling him up.

will watches as your eyes trail over his figure, drinking up every ripple and hard surface below his clothes. his skin pebbles in goosebumps, letting out another shaky breath that draws your attention. "god, you're killing me."

that makes you laugh. not in a way that's condescending or like you actually find his statement funny—but in disbelief. "and you think i'm not dying here? god will—your biceps and the little groans you make and your fucking thighs and your smile." you lick onto your bottom lip, will tracking your tongue with his eyes shamelessly.

"i've been flirting with you for months," you admit quietly.

shock is an understatement in that moment. will thinks he must truly be clueless because he had no fucking idea. "wait, really?"

"yes," you grin.

he groans—feeling embarrassed for a whole new reason. because what do you mean you've been flirting with him while he's been actively trying to behave. the many nights he's been alone in bed, fisting his aching, wet cock alone....when it could've been you doing it instead.

this whole time will could've been kissing you and fucking your sweet pussy in and outside of the semi-private gym—and then taken you out for lunch and coffee afterwards like the gentleman he is.

will can’t even think about that or he’ll begin to spiral—analyzing every single thing you’ve said and interaction shared that should’ve made him realize.

"i'm such an idiot." he huffs. will finally allows himself to touch you, large hand settling at the base of your spine—thick fingers splayed across your dewy skin.

the sight of your grin and the way you lean into him—like you're craving his touch—has will following suit with his own smile pulling at his lips. the same lips you've dreamed about kissing and sucking on your clit.

"yeah," you shrug with a breathy laugh, "but you're cute, so it's okay."

your playful banter is cut short as will leans down, kissing you. you sigh pleasantly as will's mouth holds yours, lips sliding and moving in a sexy, panty dropping pace.

his fingers dip underneath the hem of your leggings—teasing you. you whine into his mouth, pushing higher up on your toes in an attempt to deepen the kiss. wordlessly asking him for more. more kissing, more touching, more everything.

your hands loop around his warm neck while will’s free hand slides down the back of your thigh, hooking at the pit of your knee and affectively bringing your leg up around his hip. the new angle feels almost pornographic, opening you up so that his very obvious bulge can smoothly rubs against your clothed slit.

will takes ahold of your bottom lip between his teeth before he pulls back, both of you panting and wound up. he smirks all sexy with your lip in his mouth before releasing it with a gentle plop.

"I don't think I can continue our session today," he whispers suggestively, gently maneuvering your leg so it’s back onto solid ground. you want to pout at the loss of friction between your legs, but the way will’s fingers dip further down the back of your tights have you faltering.

so close to touching. so close to scandalous—but not quite there yet. not quite touching.

"oh no," you breathe heavily, "why's that?" you ask even though you know damn well why.

will grins—the shy will cuylle you thought you knew is completely gone. disintegrated. now replaced by this sexy, confident will who touches you teasingly and kisses like a porn star. he leans down, lips brushing over the shell of your ear, "my dick is so fucking hard." then he gently kisses your ear and you just about die.

"well maybe I can help you out."

he pulls back to look at you, smirk only growing when he sees the eagerness swimming around your eyes. "oh yeah?"

"yeah." you moan.

will curses again, which makes you grin. he shoots a cautious look over his broad shoulder, but like before, there's nobody else in the gym. it is a semi-private gym, one that will books for two hour sessions twice a week with you. that stemmed from the idea of getting caught with a erection by another gym member.

private lessons it was.

so nobody will be here, at least not for another little bit. he honestly has no idea how much time has passed since he arrived—his concept of time has turned to mush since you starting batting your lashes at him and confessed your purposeful flirting.

will looks back at you, "don't want you to suck my dick though."

"no?" you frown, pussy fluttering at the thought of will’s dick in your mouth.

"no. I wanna fuck you instead."

you jaw drops, and will just grins like a cocky sex god. he takes ahold of your hand, dragging you both towards the change room. the space is open and smells like cleaning supplies, but not even the antiseptic scent can stop the arousal pooling low in your belly.

will guides you into one of the private stalls—one that you'd most likely see at your local high school. a creaky plastic door with a matching seat pushed against one of the white walls. he turns the metal lock, the click echoing in the empty room—and then he's on you again.

this kiss is more intense—quicker and dirtier. your hands are all over one another. neither of you can stay still, it's physically impossible. months upon months of suffering and longing has boiled to the surface, and you move quickly in order to not get burned.

will’s lips trail down your jaw, nipping at your skin and then soothing the sting with his warm tongue. your lips part, breathless and desperate moans flowing from your mouth freely. you've gone limp in his arms, completely surrendering yourself to will.

not that he minds obviously. his grip on you is firm, but not painful as his mouth finds your neck. he sucks and licks at your pulse point until your withering, hips bucking in search of friction.

"you smell so fucking good." will mumbles into your neck before promptly finding your mouth again, continuing the needy kiss. his kiss, although new, feels almost familiar. he’s still there...the sweet will you fell for when he walked into your gym months ago—beneath the surface. that much is evident in the way he’s kissing you now.

you lick onto his bottom lip teasingly. his muscles tense under your palms, breathing increasing as your tongues begin moving together. will's hand comes down to your ass, gripping the flesh firmly and drawing you closer.

"I need to feel you," you say against his spit slick lips.

"I know baby." the nickname turns your legs to jelly, and like he knew you were on the brink of buckling to the ground, will grabs your hips firmly, pushing you further back against the wall—holding you up between his hard chest and the cold plastic behind you.

will helps you strip off your bubblegum coloured tights, and he can only groan at the sight before him. because underneath your irresistible tights, you're completely bare. no underwear in sight, only your pretty pussy, glistening and dripping for him.

"where are your panties?" he questions you lowly, tongue licking up a tendon in your neck slowly, while he simultaneously slips his hand under your sports bra in favour of groping at your tit and pulling your nipple.

everything feels so heightening and overwhelming in the best way. you shudder, "didn't want want underwear lines."

will tuts his tongue against your skin, biting down on you briefly and making your breath hitch. "I think you just wanted me to fuck you. think you've been waiting so patiently. hoping i'd pull your pretty tights down and slide my cock into your sweet little pussy."

his dirty words almost make you choke on your own spit. you had no idea will was capable of such filthy words—it has your belly twisting and turning in anticipation, while your walls contract desperately. will's lips find your jaw again, and then the corner of your mouth. not quite kissing you but just dragging his lips along your skin. marking you.

"I thought you were shy." you say pathetically, hips withering and jolting as will's fingers dip down your belly. he's so close to where you want him. so close.

"that's before I knew you were so naughty," his thumb and forefinger spread your lips, opening up your glistening walls further. the cool air shocks your warmth, and your skin pebbles all over. just when you think you can’t get any more shocked, will’s fingers slide over your clit, teasing you.

his eyes bore into yours, "are you a naughty girl, y/n?"

"no," you whine. he slides down, the pads of his fingers prodding around your slippery entrance. a whispered plea leaves your lips. you're so ready and so beyond desperate for him—it feels impossible to breathe.

it makes will coo condescendingly—the struggle and desperation written all over your flustered face. "what are you then?"

you're practically pouting. "i'm a good girl."

"yeah?"

"mhm hmph."

his gaze turns pointed. will takes his hand away from your heat, making your frown deepen. the hand he previously had under your sports bra, teasing your diamond cutting hard peak, comes up and grips your chin, keeping your eyes on him—unwilling you to look away or tilt your head back.

will leans in, but he doesn't kiss you. "then be a good girl and turn around."

you don't need to be asked twice, turning on shaky legs. behind you, will quickly pulls his shirt off, adding it to the growing pile of discarded clothes on the tiled floor below you.

you're breathing frantically, pushing your hips back in search of him. will smiles at the sight, chest heaving as he pulls his aching cock out of his athletic shorts, freeing himself from the restraint. his cock is angry shade of rose, smacking against his pelvis with a thick slapping sound. will grips his length, pumping himself lazily, slicking himself with your sticky arousal coating his fingers.

the lewd sound has you moaning, casting a suggestive look over your shoulder. when you catch sight of his strong chest, flushed and sweaty, along with his throbbing cock and leaking tip....you're pretty sure you feel your pussy leak and drip onto the floor. which in hindsight should be embarrassing, but you’re too flustered to care. and fuck if will cares—if anything the sight has his dick twitching.

will grabs ahold of your ass, squeezing and lifting to spread you—opening up your already weeping entrance. "fuck baby, spread your legs wider for me," he slaps your ass gratefully when you listen, wobbly legs sliding open another inch or so—giving him more room, while will begins lining up his head with your hole. "a little wider—that's a good girl."

"will please, I-" you choke on your words as the fat tip of will's cock nudges at your opening. his length slips in slowly, teasing you until the last possible second.

you could cry.

"what were you saying, baby? will please..."

your walls clench around his sheathed cock like you can't decide if you want him to start moving or keep still. either way you think it's overwhelming. you feel so full of will’s cock that it feels impossible. impossible to breathe, to think, to speak.

thankfully, he's not actually looking for a reply. he's too fucking horny to wait any longer. will begins thrusting, shallow at first as if he's testing the limit—yours and his.

you're a moaning and sobbing mess, pressed against the stall wall pathetically—lips parted and wet as his cock slowly rocks into your entrance. "please."

your plea is all it takes for will to speed up. very quickly his thrusts become rhythmical, hips slapping against your ass feverishly. you cry loudly, frantically reaching for him—fingers locking around his wrist where he’s holding on to your hip.

your pussy is greedy, sucking and holding onto his length like it's never had anything better. and if you were to ask yourself—you haven't had anything better. will fucks you like he kisses you—sure and sexy and with little bit of sweetness. it's exactly what you've been craving. it's so fucking good.

"god," he curses lowly, "i'm not gunna last long inside your pretty pussy baby. so fucking tight and perfect."

like clockwork your walls flutter around him, which only urges him to fuck your harder. "keep going," you plead.

he had no intention of stopping. not now, not ever. you're better than he could've ever imagined. will's arm wrap around your middle, promptly pulling you off the wall and back to his chest—all while his cock continues attacking your pulsating, gummy walls.

your head falls back to his shoulder weakly, and it gives will the best view of your bouncing tits that have fallen up and out of your sports bra from the momentum of his thrusts—pebbled nipples and all. his slit begins leaking fluids just at the sight.

your glossed over eyes meet his, your lips parted helplessly as his hips rut into you. will leans down without even realizing what he's doing, kissing you once again. its barley a kiss—if anything it's more of brushing tongues and muffled moans. lips barley kissing over one another’s.

but it's enough to have you clenching around him. "i'm cumming, will." you whine, eyes rolling as the coil in your stomach ignites. your hand darts up, gripping tightly at the roots of his dirty blonde hair while your orgasm hits you at full force. the sob you let out sounds like fucking heaven, walls fluttering as your body goes limp.

will shudders, keeping you against his chest as his own release catches up to him. his thrusts turn rougher, pelvis smacking against your ass loudly while the head of his cock punches your overstimulated cervix. 

"oh fuck," he moans, balls jumping as spurts of hot cum shoot from his cock, painting your sensitive walls. will rides out his orgasm with shallow and slow thrusts, making a mess of your fluids—smearing the combination over his pelvis and your inner thighs.

you whine, which makes will blink. his grip around your body loosens, but not enough to let you fall. which thank god, because you're not sure if you can stand right now. "you okay?" he asks you softly, breath hitting the side of your face as he studies you for a reaction.

"a little tired and fucked out," you trail off, and even though you literally look spent—mascara under your eyes and lips stained—there's a hint of amusement in your tone. "but i'm okay."

will smiles, kissing your cheek tenderly before sliding his dick out of your entrance. the squelching noise that comes with that action almost makes you want to go for another round, but your legs protest that idea as they start to shake.

"just stay still for a minute baby," he mumbles, grabbing his discarded shirt, "gunna clean you up." ever so softly, will begins wiping up the mess between your legs. he works with such softness and ease that you can't help but smile, leaning back against the stall wall for some much needed stability.

will kisses your inner thigh before helping you back into your tights—which, might as well get married now because you're ruined for every other man.

when he stands up to his full height, you can't help but touch his bare chest, not so subtly feeling him up. "what are you going to wear?" you're referring to his shirt, which is now covered in your mixed juices.

will shrugs casually, hands gripping at the fleshiest parts of your hips to squeeze reassuringly. "eh, not worried."

you quirk a brow, "maybe I don't want people looking at you all....sweaty and muscley."

"you jealous?" will teases, leaning down and letting his lips brush over your cheek. it tickles, but you welcome it, leaning into his mouth in search of a kiss.

"maybe...."

he laughs and then presses a lingering kiss to your lips, "don't worry baby, i'm yours."

[bearforcecaptions]

Ethan sank back into his chair, his head tilted back, his eyes staring blankly at the white stucco ceiling of his cramped studio apartment. The blue glare of his laptop screen bathed the room in a cold light. His inbox was full of rejections from real estate agencies and banks alike—loans denied, offers ignored, dreams deferred. He had been working tirelessly at his entry-level marketing job, barely scraping by in the city. His salary was a joke compared to the soaring cost of living. It was as if the universe conspired to keep him tethered to this shoebox apartment, this dead-end existence.

Ethan groaned and raked a hand through his messy brown hair. He glanced at the half-empty beer bottle on his desk and sighed. “Why does it have to be so impossible?” he muttered. “All I want is a house. A real home. Stability. Is that so much to ask?”

It was then he noticed the old coin he’d found earlier that day while cleaning his desk drawer. It was a peculiar thing—antique, tarnished silver, with an odd, swirling pattern on one side and an inscription in a language he couldn’t recognize on the other. He’d bought it at a flea market on a whim months ago and promptly forgotten about it.

A surge of frustration overtook him as he held the coin. “If I could just own a house,” he said bitterly, clutching the coin tight, “I’d do anything. I wish I was a homeowner.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, as if the universe paused to consider his plea. Then, the coin in his palm grew uncomfortably warm. He yelped and tried to drop it, but his fingers wouldn’t budge. His heart pounded as the heat intensified, and suddenly the world around him blurred. Colors swirled together like wet paint on a canvas, and a strange, humming energy coursed through his body. It wasn’t just his surroundings that were changing. He felt it—deep in his bones, his muscles, his very essence.

The first thing Ethan noticed was the weight. His lean, wiry frame began to thicken, his muscles softening and giving way to a broader, more substantial build. His chest expanded, his shoulders widened, and his arms grew bulkier. He could feel his stomach rounding out, a firm layer of softness forming over the faint abs he’d worked so hard to maintain. His legs thickened, the fabric of his jeans straining before the seams gave way entirely.

“No, no, this isn’t right,” he gasped, his voice already deeper, richer. He stumbled backward, gripping the edge of his desk for support, but even the texture of the wood felt different under his fingers. His hands were larger now, his palms calloused as if from years of manual labor. His nails were neatly trimmed, but they looked… weathered. Experienced.

Ethan’s reflection in the darkened laptop screen caught his eye, and he froze. His face was changing. His angular jawline grew broader, more defined, and a thick, full beard began to sprout from his cheeks and chin. The beard was a mix of reddish-brown and streaks of silver that seemed to shimmer under the faint light. His once-youthful features matured, fine lines appearing at the corners of his eyes and mouth, but they gave him a rugged, distinguished look rather than an aged one.

“Stop it. Stop!” Ethan pleaded, as if he could will the transformation to reverse. He stumbled toward the bathroom, his movements clumsy as he adjusted to his new weight and balance. Flicking on the light, he stared into the mirror, his breath hitching. The man staring back at him was unrecognizable. His brown hair had receded significantly, leaving him bald save for the faintest shadow of stubble on his scalp. His beard was magnificent, framing his face like a crown. His blue eyes, once wide and uncertain, now held a calm confidence that unnerved him.

As Ethan panicked, his surroundings blurred and shifted again. When the world stabilized, he wasn’t in his dingy apartment anymore. He was standing in a beautiful, sunlit kitchen, the faint hum of city traffic filtering through the windows. The countertops were polished granite, the cabinets a warm oak, and everything felt meticulously cared for. He recognized none of it, yet a part of him did. A name whispered in the back of his mind: Peter.

“No,” Ethan said aloud, gripping the edge of the counter. “I’m Ethan. I’m Ethan. This isn’t… I don’t belong here.” But even as he said it, his resolve wavered. Memories began to trickle in, unbidden and unwanted. They weren’t his—they couldn’t be his—but they were vivid and undeniable. He remembered long walks along the river, dinners in cozy bistros, laughter over a shared bottle of wine. And always, always, there was Derek.

“Peter, are you okay?” a voice called from the hallway, making Ethan’s—Peter’s—heart leap. He turned as Derek entered the room, tall and handsome, with salt-and-pepper hair and a smile that sent a confusing rush of warmth through Peter’s chest.

Ethan wanted to run, wanted to scream that this wasn’t real, that he wasn’t Peter, that he wasn’t… but the words stuck in his throat. His body didn’t want to move. Instead, he found himself smiling back at Derek, his treacherous lips forming words he didn’t mean. “Yeah, just a little dizzy. That’s all.”

Derek walked over and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. It was warm and steadying, and though Ethan wanted to flinch away, he found himself leaning into it instead. The sensation was electric, sending a shiver down his spine. “You’ve been working too hard again,” Derek said gently, his voice filled with affection. “Come sit down. I made you coffee.”

As Derek guided him to the table, Ethan fought the rising tide of memories and emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He was straight. He’d always been straight. But now, looking at Derek, he felt a pull he couldn’t deny. His new body responded to Derek’s touch, his new mind filled with affection and desire that weren’t his own.

He tried to hold onto who he was, but with every passing moment, it slipped further away. Peter’s memories were becoming his memories. Peter’s love for Derek was becoming his love. The resistance in Ethan’s mind weakened as the new reality cemented itself. When Derek kissed him on the forehead, Ethan felt a wave of warmth and security that he couldn’t fight. He wanted this. Peter wanted this.

Ethan spent the rest of the day trapped in a haze of conflicting emotions. He tried to avoid Derek’s gaze, but every time his husband’s eyes met his, a flutter of warmth rippled through him. It wasn’t just attraction—it was a deep, abiding love that felt as if it had always been there. Derek’s gentle smiles, his subtle touches, all of it chipped away at Ethan’s crumbling resistance.

By the afternoon, Ethan found himself standing in the backyard, staring at the neatly trimmed hedges and the garden he somehow remembered planting. He could recall the feel of the soil in his hands, the satisfaction of watching the flowers bloom. The memories were so real, so vivid, that it was impossible to tell where Ethan ended and Peter began. He sank to his knees, clutching his head, trying to hold on to who he had been. But even as he fought, he felt the warm presence of Derek behind him.

“You okay, Pete?” Derek’s voice was filled with concern as he crouched beside him.

Ethan—Peter?—looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and longing. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “Everything feels… wrong. But also… right.”

Derek chuckled softly and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You’re just tired. Why don’t you come inside? I’ll make us some tea.”

Ethan wanted to say no, to push Derek away and demand answers from the universe. But instead, he found himself nodding. His body moved on its own, following Derek back into the house, where the smell of fresh bread filled the air. It was a life he had never known, but every part of it felt comforting, familiar.

By the time the day ended, Ethan—or what was left of him—found himself lying in bed beside Derek. The dog, Charlie, snored softly at their feet. He stared at the ceiling, his mind quiet but conflicted. Somewhere, deep down, a small voice whispered that this wasn’t his life. But as Derek’s arm draped over him and the steady rhythm of his breathing filled the room, Ethan let the voice fade. For better or worse, he was Peter now, and Peter was deeply, irrevocably in love.

The next morning, Ethan woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of birds chirping outside the window. He blinked groggily, taking in the soft light filtering through the curtains. Derek was already up, humming a tune as he prepared breakfast in the kitchen. Ethan felt a pang of guilt as he swung his legs out of bed and stood, his body moving with a fluidity that felt foreign yet natural.

The day unfolded in a surreal blur. Ethan’s mind was a battlefield, memories of his old life clashing with the new ones. But every time Derek entered the room, his heart betrayed him. The way Derek smiled, the way he laughed, the way he looked at him with such unguarded affection—it was impossible not to respond. Ethan found himself leaning into the role of Peter, not because he wanted to, but because it felt like the only choice left.

By the evening, as they sat together on the couch, sharing a quiet moment, Ethan realized something had shifted. The resistance in his mind had weakened further, and for the first time, he let himself relax. Derek leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple, and Ethan didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned, capturing Derek’s lips with his own.

The kiss was slow, tender, and full of emotion. It felt like coming home, like finding a piece of himself he hadn’t known was missing. When they pulled apart, Derek smiled, his eyes shining with love.

“I love you, Peter,” he said softly.

And as Ethan looked into Derek’s eyes, he felt a pang of something deeper than guilt. It was acceptance. “I love you too,” he whispered, the words feeling both foreign and utterly true.

Ethan knew he was no longer the man he had been. But as he rested his head on Derek’s shoulder and closed his eyes, he decided he could live with that. For better or worse, he was Peter now, and Peter was exactly where he belonged.

[flwrkid14]

The Weight of Stories in the Infinite Realms

Danny has always known ghosts were shaped by their obsessions. That’s Ghost 101. The more powerful the emotion, the stronger the ghost. Desire. Rage. Guilt. They don’t just linger—they define.

But legends? Legends are something else entirely.

Ghosts are remnants of the people they were. Even the worst of them—the ones twisted beyond recognition—still have that core, that personhood. You can track their past, their cause, their tether to the living world.

Legends don’t have that.

Legends are built from belief.

Danny’s seen it before, how stories spread through the Infinite Realms like wildfire, how whispers in the dark can manifest into something real. It’s not just the ghosts of the dead who take shape in the Realms—it’s the things that never lived in the first place. The things that shouldn’t exist but do because people believe in them.

Slenderman. The Black-Eyed Children. The Vanishing Hitchhiker. Stories people made up and told so many times that the Infinite Realms listened.

Danny once stumbled across the Headless Horseman galloping through the Ghost Zone like he belonged there. He wasn’t the ghost of some long-dead soldier—he was the story of the Horseman, made real. Danny half-wonders if there are multiple versions of him, shaped by different retellings. Maybe one with a pumpkin head, maybe another wielding a fiery sword.

Because that’s the thing about legends. They evolve.

And that’s what makes them dangerous.

Normal ghosts are predictable. You can track their origins, find the moment of their death, figure out what makes them tick. But legends? How do you fight something that exists only because people think it does?

You can’t reason with a legend. You can’t find its unfinished business and solve it. You can’t lay it to rest. It doesn’t want rest. It doesn’t want anything—it just is.

That’s why La Llorona was different.

Danny and Tim went to Mexico expecting a ghost. A vengeful spirit. Maybe a lost soul. But when Danny reached for his ghost sense, it flickered uncertainly, confused, like even the Realms weren’t sure what she was.

Because she wasn’t just a ghost. She was a story given form.

Her obsession wasn’t personal—it was collective. It was every mother who had lost a child, every whisper of warning passed down through generations, every child who grew up afraid of hearing her cry. Her entire existence was built on belief.

And you can’t exorcise belief.

Danny’s fought a lot of things, but how do you fight something shaped by the weight of a million voices? By centuries of fear? How do you kill a story when the world itself is determined to keep telling it?

…Maybe you don’t.

Maybe, instead of fighting a legend, you change the story.

[mercifulstate]

SNAP OUT OF IT!

A sweet little reminder for you guys ~ I like posting reminders for the community because I know there are those just like me.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　 I. DOUBTS It’s completely okay to feel uncertain. It’s completely okay to feel frustrated. It’s completely okay to vent. But let me remind you — every successful LOA blogger, every seasoned manifester have been where you are, hell even I'm still at the "beginning of my journey". Thanks to @gorgeouslypink (I read their doubts post and it's so helpful xx), my perspective on doubts have changed. Doubts are a natural part of the journey; when we drown ourselves in too much information or overcomplicate what is, at its core, beautifully simple — these doubts are bound to form. But here’s the truth: you are the one in control. The 3D isn’t here to defeat you — it’s here to challenge you, to test your resolve. And every time you rise above it, you prove your power. Imagine yourself as the CEO of your reality. You don’t need techniques, success stories, or endless methods. You only need you.

II. 'HOW TO?' You don’t need to chase or search for endless “how-to” guides! The only thing that truly matters is understanding the essence of LOA and following what resonates with you. Do what feels natural and empowering. For me, the I AM state is what makes me feel comfortable, it's what resonates with me. But even if I "haven't entered" it, I know that the 3D is just reflecting a temporary illusion. The reality? It’s already done. Always has been. Trust in that. It really is that simple.

III. SUBCONSCIOUS Your subconscious mind is the limitless power behind your reality, faithfully shaping your world according to your deepest assumptions and beliefs. It does not argue, question, or resist — it simply accepts what you impress upon it as truth and reflects it back into your 3D experience. This is why Neville Goddard taught that imagination is the key to creation. Your only job is to decide what you wish to experience, accept that it is already yours, and believe that your subconscious will effortlessly bring it to life. There are no limits, no obstacles — only the reality you "currently claim" as true. The moment you fully accept your desire as done, the 3D rearranges itself to make it so.

IV. THE LOA COMMUNITY In this journey, you will come across those who try to shake your beliefs — people who lie about their experience, gaslight, and spread doubts, whether intentionally or out of their own limiting beliefs. Some will tell you it’s impossible, that you’re doing it wrong, that you need to struggle or anything that is quite literally limiting. But here’s the truth: you are the operant power. The Law is always working, whether you believe in it or not, so why not choose to believe in your own limitless nature? If someone tries to plant seeds of doubt, remind yourself that you get to define what is true. You have the power to assume they are simply mistaken, and in doing so, their words hold no weight in your reality. The essence of the Law of Assumption is simple — what you accept as real must and will become your experience. So stand firm in your knowing. No external noise can take away the truth: you are already everything you desire to be.

V. VICTIM MENTALITY The moment you see yourself as a victim, you give away your power. It’s easy to fall into the trap of blaming circumstances, doubting yourself, or feeling stuck and helpless — but none of that defines you. The truth is, you are not powerless. You are in control! Your assumptions shape your reality, and the story you tell yourself is the one that plays out. So ask yourself — are you reinforcing limitations, or are you stepping into the version of you who knows they are in charge? The past doesn’t matter. The doubts don’t matter. The only thing that matters is what you choose to accept as true right now. Let go of the excuses. Let go of the old story. You are far more powerful than you’ve been giving yourself credit for, and the second you decide to own that, everything changes.

VI. HOPING/MAYBE/TRYING Hoping, trying, and saying maybe WILL KEEP YOU STUCK IN A CYCLE. They imply uncertainty, hesitation, and a lack of trust in your own power. When you say, "I hope this works," or "I'll try," you're unknowingly affirming that you’re not sure if you can have what you want — and that doubt reflects in your reality. Manifestation isn’t about hoping and trying; it’s about deciding and accepting. The moment you shift from “I hope” to “I know” and from “I’ll try” to “It’s already done,” everything aligns. There is no room for uncertainty when you recognize that you are the one in control. Let go of the in-between. Choose certainty. The version of you who has it all isn’t hoping — they are living it.

VII. SUMMARY You are the operant power, the one in control of your reality. Doubts, external noise, and even the lies of others cannot take away what is already yours — unless you let them. The 3D may test you, but it holds no real power over you. The only thing that matters is what you accept to be true. Stop doom-scrolling for proof, stop searching for validation, stop relying on other people’s experiences to convince you that this works. Their success is not what makes the Law real — you do. Every second you spend looking for reassurance is a second you could be using to step into your power, to start living your life. Let go of the victim mindset, stop hoping and trying, and start deciding and accepting. There is no need to complicate things. You don’t need endless techniques, outside approval, or anyone’s permission. All you need is you. The moment you fully accept your power, everything shifts. So stand tall, trust yourself, and walk forward with confidence — because you’ve already won.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　

And just in case no one has told you today: you are doing amazing, and you are so much more powerful than you think. You got this sweet bats! xoxo

[growthhyp]

The Transforming Cum V

Vincent’s eyes lit up as he measured Jonathan’s massive frame, his hands trembling with excitement. The tailor had always dreamed of working on a canvas like this—muscles so defined they seemed sculpted out of marble. “You’re going to need custom everything,” Vincent said, running a tape measure across Jonathan’s chest. The fabric I have here won’t even begin to contain you.

Jonathan chuckled, flexing his biceps unconsciously. “That’s why I came to you. Zayne and Chris will be next. They’ll need your expertise too.”

Vincent nodded, already sketching designs in his mind. “Consider it done. But first—” He paused, glancing at Jonathan with a sly smile. “Let’s make sure you’re comfortable. I might need you to try on a few prototypes before we settle on the final design.”

By the time Jonathan left Vincent’s shop, he felt like a new man. Not just physically, but mentally too. His confidence was soaring, and he couldn’t wait to tell Zayne about their new personal tailor.

Later that evening, Jonathan sat down with Zayne over coffee. “Vincent’s incredible,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “He’s even willing to work on clothes for you and Chris. We’ve got style covered now.”

Zayne grinned, clearly impressed. “Good thinking. Now, what about maintaining all that muscle? You can’t slack off, you know.”

Jonathan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. The school gym isn’t cutting it anymore. I need something bigger, better. But…” He hesitated, drumming his fingers on the table. “I’m broke. College student problems.”

Zayne raised an eyebrow. “There’s gotta be something nearby. What about that place 15 minutes from your apartment?”

Jonathan shrugged. “The reviews are terrible. People say the trainer doesn’t set a good example. Apparently, he’s the opposite of what you’d expect in a fitness coach.”

Curiosity piqued, Jonathan decided to check it out for himself. The gym wasn’t far, and with a month’s worth of savings tucked away, he figured he could at least give it a shot.

When Jonathan walked into the dimly lit gym, he was struck by how empty it felt. A few scattered patrons lifted weights in silence, and behind the counter stood a man who looked anything but a trainer. Jim was tall but painfully thin, his wiry frame swallowed by an oversized hoodie. His face was gaunt, his eyes tired, but there was a spark of determination in them that intrigued Jonathan.

“Hey,” Jonathan greeted, stepping up to the counter. “I’m interested in signing up.”

Jim’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? You… want to join my gym?”

Jonathan nodded, offering a friendly smile. “Yeah. I’ve been looking for a place to train. What’s the deal here?”

Jim sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “Honestly? It’s not great. I inherited this place from my dad. It was his passion, but after he passed, I’ve struggled to keep it going. And—” He hesitated, lowering his voice. “I have a rare muscle atrophy disorder. No matter how much I train, I can’t build muscle. People see me and think, ‘Why would I take advice from him?’”

Jonathan’s heart went out to the guy. There was something heartbreakingly earnest about Jim, and suddenly, Jonathan had an idea.

“What if I could help you?” Jonathan said, leaning in closer. “What if I told you I have a way to transform your body—permanently?”

Jim blinked, confusion written all over his face. “What do you mean? How?”

Jonathan smirked, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s a special gift I have. All you have to do is trust me.”

Jim’s cheeks flushed, and he glanced around nervously. “I don’t know… What exactly are you proposing?”

Jonathan leaned back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Here’s the deal. In exchange for a lifetime membership, I’ll give you the body of your dreams. Think about it. You’ll be the perfect advertisement for this gym. People will flock to you.”

Jim bit his lip, considering. “And this… gift. What does it involve?”

Jonathan’s smile turned mischievous. “It involves me. Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.”

Jim’s breath hitched, and he nodded slowly. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Jonathan led Jim to a private corner of the gym, away from prying eyes. As they stood close, Jonathan’s hands found Jim’s waist, pulling him in. Jim trembled under his touch, his body tense with anticipation.

“Relax,” Jonathan murmured, his lips brushing against Jim’s ear. “Just let me take care of you.”

Jim shivered, his hands gripping Jonathan’s arms for support. “I’ve never… I mean, I’m… a virgin,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jonathan’s eyes softened. “Then I’ll make this special for you.”

Slowly, Jonathan guided Jim to the floor, laying him down gently. He peeled off his own shirt, revealing his chiseled torso, and watched as Jim’s eyes widened in awe.

“You’re beautiful,” Jim breathed, reaching up to touch Jonathan’s abs.

Jonathan chuckled, lowering himself until their bodies were pressed together. “You’re about to feel even better.”

As Jonathan prepared Jim, he noticed how tight the man was, untouched and virginal. It only made him more determined to make this unforgettable.

“Ready?” Jonathan asked, his voice husky with desire.

Jim nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. “Yes. Please.”

The moment Jonathan entered him, Jim gasped, his body arching off the ground. It was overwhelming, the sensation both foreign and exhilarating. Jonathan moved slowly at first, giving Jim time to adjust, but soon the rhythm picked up, their bodies moving in sync.

Jonathan could feel the heat building inside him, and when he finally came, it was with a force that left them both breathless.

But something unexpected happened. As Jonathan pulled out, Jim’s body began to change. Muscles swelled beneath his skin, his frame growing larger and more defined with every passing second.

“Oh God,” Jim moaned, clutching at his chest as the transformation took hold. “What’s happening to me?”

Jonathan watched in awe as Jim’s once frail body morphed into that of a cocky bodybuilder. Every inch of him radiated power and confidence, and the look on Jim’s face was pure ecstasy.

“You’re beautiful,” Jonathan whispered, his voice filled with admiration.

Jim lay there, panting, his new muscles glistening with sweat. “I feel… amazing,” he said, his voice deeper, richer.

And then, as if the pleasure was too much to bear, Jim came, his own transformation complete. The two men collapsed side by side, their bodies still humming with raw energy.

Jim turned to Jonathan, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “So, about that lifetime membership…”

[padmesweetheart]

Surprise! You’re in Trouble Too!PT 5

Pairings: Hidden Wife! reader x Anakin Skywalker

Summary:what happens when you get in trouble too

5/7 of the hidden wife series

You had been doing so well at staying quiet. Standing beside Padmé, watching Anakin dig himself deeper into trouble, you figured it was best to let him handle it.

But of course, your luck never worked that way.

Because Mace Windu, still radiating maximum disappointment, suddenly turned to you.

“And you,” he said, folding his arms.

You froze.

“…Me?”

Mace nodded. “Yes. You. The one who has also been actively deceiving the Jedi Order for years.”

You winced. “Okay, but to be fair, I’m not a Jedi.”

Obi-Wan groaned. “That does not make it better.”

Anakin, ever your doting husband, immediately jumped to your defense. “Hey! Leave my wife alone, this was my decision—”

Mace cut him off with a sharp look. “Skywalker, you are in enough trouble.”

You sighed, glancing at Anakin before stepping forward. “Look. I know this isn’t exactly ideal, but it’s not like I was plotting against the Order. I love Anakin. That’s all this was ever about.”

Yoda hummed, studying you with that unreadable little frown. “Love, powerful it is. But dangerous, too.”

Mace exhaled sharply. “The problem is not just love. It’s the secrecy. The deception. The absolute lack of common sense.”

Anakin made a face. “Ouch, Master Windu.”

Mace ignored him. “So tell me—why did you go along with this?”

You hesitated, suddenly feeling very small under the weight of the entire Jedi Council’s gaze.

And then, before you could stop yourself, you just blurted it out.

“Because I knew Anakin was terrible at keeping secrets, and I figured he’d need the help!”

A pause.

Silence.

Then Obi-Wan groaned into his hands. “Force help me, she’s right.”

“HEY!” Anakin looked deeply, deeply offended. “I kept this secret for years!”

Padmé scoffed. “Anakin, literally everyone knew except for you.”

Plo Koon nodded. “It was not exactly a well-kept secret.”

Anakin looked utterly betrayed. “What?!”

Shaak Ti, who had been silent up until now, gave you a very knowing smile. “So, you’ve been covering for him this whole time?”

You sighed. “Someone had to.”

Mace stared at you both like he was seconds away from sending the entire Council into early retirement. “Unbelievable.”

Anakin, still recovering from the realization that he had never actually been sneaky, threw his hands in the air. “Okay! So what happens now?”

Yoda tilted his head. “Decide, we must. Punishment, there may be.”

Your stomach dropped. “Punishment?”

Anakin immediately moved closer to you, like he was ready to take all the blame. “She had nothing to do with the Jedi side of things—if anyone’s getting punished, it’s me.”

Mace sighed. “Oh, you will be.”

You swallowed. “Um. Can I at least make a suggestion?”

Mace raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see how you’re in a position to suggest anything.”

You clasped your hands together, taking a deep breath. “Hear me out. What if, instead of getting mad, you all just… let this go?”

Silence.

Dead silence.

Then Obi-Wan muttered, “They really are perfect for each other.”

Mace rubbed his temples. “We’ll discuss our decision soon. Until then—both of you are to stay out of further trouble.”

Anakin smirked. “Define ‘trouble’—”

“SKYWALKER.”

And with that, the worst-kept secret in Jedi history officially unraveled.

———————————————————————————————

Tag-list: @aoi-targaryen

[abyss-seer]

Soul Soothing Messages

Pick any one of the 6 piles

****Viewer Discretion is Advised****

Tarot Readings are meant for entertainment purposes only, take them as a second opinion only. The purpose of these readings is to bring insights into a person's life, hence only take the guidance with your own free will. Tarot Reader is/will not be held responsible for the viewer's actions. Viewer Discretion is strictly advised and to be adhered to while watching tarot readings for themselves.

USE YOUR DISCERNMENT. DO NOT FOLLOW ANYTHING BLINDLY. THESE READINGS ARE MEANT FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY

*******INDIVIDUALS SEEKING LEGAL, MEDICAL, OR ANY PROFESSIONAL ADVICE ARE ADVISED TO SEEK PROFESSIONALS OF THESE RELATED AREAS. ********

Individuals seeking mental, emotional, or psychological attention are advised to seek mental healthcare professionals, or the National Health Care Helplines of their respective countries and consider the opinions, resources, and guidance of these professionals as their first priority and the tarot reader's words as a friendly opinion or as a friendly advice

Pile 1

Confirmations: Golden hour - JVKE, Magic Shop - BTS, Moon - Jin,Bts

Seaweed grass, neck problems, back problems

Dear Pile 1,

My loves, you are amazing, radiant, and beautiful exactly as you are. There’s nothing you need to change about yourself to win the love of someone special. You’ve never had to become someone else or mold yourself into a fictional ideal to be worthy of love. True love comes when you are unapologetically yourself.

Pile 1, take care of yourself—especially your neck and back! Don’t strain them by staring down at your phone all the time, and maybe turn down the blasting music in your ears. There’s a whole world around you waiting to be explored.

Why let the fear of judgment hold you back? Break free from the imaginary cages you’ve built and step into the light. The internet might feel limitless, but it’s still another cage if you use it to hide from the real world. Are you constantly doubting your looks or imagining what kind of person you think others want you to be? Stop overthinking!

The world will love you for who you are. There are people out there who won’t judge your views—some will even find them inspiring and find you incredibly attractive. You have unique perspectives, and people can learn from them. So, ask your questions openly, share your thoughts freely, and embrace this world as a classroom where we are all students, each learning at our own pace.

Take a moment to reflect on what you want in a soulmate and the kind of people you wish to surround yourself with. Let this be a reminder that your authentic self is enough. There are people who will love and accept you wholeheartedly for who you are, who you’ve been, and who you will become.

No matter what happens, someone out there will always cherish you just as you are.

With love,

Your Friend

Abyss Seer

Pile 2

Confirmations: very mindful very demure trend, very subtle, slow and steady, stand offish, emblem, victorious, knowledgeable, September, Virgo Season, Virginia

Dear Pile 2,

Contemplative, introspective, patient, victorious, revolutionary—how many more labels do you need to define yourself? Do you really have to carry the weight of this "serious identity" of being a leader? Do you think anyone—or anything—could truly define who you are?

Why look at yourself through a stranger’s lens? Does that perspective truly capture your essence? Who are you at your core? Is the person within you the one calling the shots, or have you let someone else take the reins? Even Girish (Lord Shiva) himself couldn’t define you—only you can. (Some of you could love mountain strolls, ‘Girish’ means one who resides in mountains. Maybe some of you worship a mountain deity like a Shinto deity)

This isn’t something a tarot reader can tell you because deep down, you already know it. So, what’s holding you back? Are you unaware of your own potential? Haven’t you seen the hurdles you’ve overcome to reach this point in your life?

Why feel embarrassed about being in a better position now? Why isolate yourself when you’ve already earned your victories? Do you really need to shrink yourself to fit into the mold of others, or should those trying to limit you rise to meet your level? Which path sounds more empowering and true to growth?

Pile 2, stop accommodating people who judge others based on superficial flaws. Instead, move at your own pace, staying true to your ethics, standards, and values. Ask yourself: what do you really love to do? What would you pursue if judgment didn’t exist?

Because here’s the truth: it’s possible to live that life. And not just live it—leave a legacy that others will remember. Your soul’s unique signature is meant to inspire, to create waves in the world.

So, go after what excites you. Reignite that spark. Make life worth remembering.

With love,

Your Friend

Abyss Seer

Pile 3

Dear Pile 3,

Alright, Pile 3, who’s the person that’s stolen your heart? Do you feel sad about not being noticed or seen by them? Does this person inspire you in some way? Do they leave you at a loss for words?

Aww, my sweet little angels, don’t be sad! Your heart doesn’t deserve to carry this kind of ache. Let me tell you something: you’ll never know what could happen unless you express your feelings.

This lesson applies to more than just love—it’s the same with your career. Some of you might have experienced hardship, maybe even violence or exclusion, possibly because of poverty or feeling left out. These moments can make you question your path in life. When it comes to love, you’ve been hesitant to take risks. And in your career, you still feel uncertain.

The real issue, Pile 3, is that you’re not standing up for yourself. You fear judgment and hesitate to take bold steps. Your Manipura Chakra (solar plexus) and Visuddha Chakra (throat) are calling out to you. They’re urging you to be honest, make a strategic move, and take charge of your life.

Remember your Shakti! You are not here to be preyed upon or diminished. You’re here to walk this Earth like a tigress—strong, proud, and full of grace. You have the power to reclaim your rightful space and radiate light onto others.

Now is the time to cleanse yourself of negativity, self-doubt, and unrequited energy. Clear your mind, space, and body of anything holding you back. Take a moment to stretch, breathe deeply, and let happiness fill your soul. Go for a walk, feel the freedom, and let yourself reconnect with your purpose.

I promise you, success is within your reach—whether it’s in love, your career, or life itself. Take a step back, relax, and trust that Devi Durga is with you, guiding you toward your light. Embrace who you are, do what excites you, and show courage when it’s needed. Take risks, stand up for yourself, and trust that you’re on the right path.

You’ve got this, Pile 3! Shine bright, take the leap, and know the way will reveal itself.

Good day, my loves. Bubbye!

Your Friend

Abyss Seer

Pile 4

Confirmations:

Film based, happy hare,638,368,63,36,93, multiples of 3,21, sea monsters, percy Jackson, someone’s nickname could be or mean ‘monkey’, mooncake, mid-autumn festival,707,909,yoy,LOL,

This pile reminds me a lot of PJ series and all the sea goddess, Beren and Luthien, Lord of Rings and Hobbit, 3 letter palindrome with letter ‘o’ in the middle could be significant, Having Strict teachers and parents growing up,Sailor Moon, religious leaders like pandits or priests forcing culture on you, Character of Father Nelson from Hilda Furracao, Guru Dronacharya disabling someone's growth to enable someone else.

Dear Pile 4,

Are you constantly changing yourself to be loved by others? Are you holding on to the idea of a “dream partner” from childhood, wishing for someone as idealistic as the fantasy? Do you find yourself torn between loving the real person in front of you and the ideal person in your mind? My loves, isn’t it exhausting to hold people to the impossible standards of your favorite anime or fictional character?

It’s time to stop wasting your energy trying to change people or resenting them for not meeting those expectations. Real love doesn’t come from forcing others to fit your mold. Why do you feel the need to change others? Is it because you struggle to accept them—or maybe even yourself?

Are you in connections where you pretend to be someone you’re not? Does the idea of looking beyond the “mist” of a perfect life seem unbearable? Pile 4, take a deep look within. Where is this mist coming from? Is it the people around you or fears rooted in past trauma? Whatever the source, clarity begins with you.

For some of you, this mist may stem from childhood expectations. Perhaps a mother figure or other authority figures imposed strict control, criticized every small mistake, and denied you the space to fail and learn. Maybe decisions were made for you, leaving you fearful and indecisive despite knowing what you needed to do.

I sense echoes of Eklavya from Indian mythology but in a negative context —someone who was subservient and maladaptive because they weren’t given the freedom to adapt or grow cause their thumb was cut off to stop their growth. You might have faced harsh punishments, controlling parents, or strict teachers, which instilled meekness and fear of failure. For some, even religious or cultural traditions may have felt stifling, leaving little room for individuality.

Pile 4, I’m so sorry if you endured any of this. Do you settle for what you’re given because you were taught that’s all you deserved? Have past experiences, like being bullied for your accent or identity, left you afraid to ask for more or show your true self? (I am specifically getting Kim Kardashian's NYC accent, its as if someone was bullied for their accent which ended up in them never asking questions again out of embarrassment, aww pile 4, iam so sorry for what you went through. This should have never happened, I hope you know that and beleive me when I say so. It should have never happened you, alright? Love you so much 🩷)

Listen to me: you don’t have to be the person others forced you to become. Let your soul breathe. Release yourself from expectations and labels that don’t align with who you truly are. Life is full of gifts if you choose to see them. Heal from your fear of delays and failure. Let go of hyper-independence and control.

You weren’t meant to carry the weight of the world alone. Let others help you. Don’t let past bullying or harshness keep you from caring for yourself or connecting with others. Recognize these patterns, ask yourself the right questions, and start your healing journey.

There is help out there—mental health hotlines, domestic abuse support, and professionals ready to assist you. Please know you never deserved to be treated poorly. You are unique and worthy of expressing your true self. Don’t suppress your light; don’t let these experiences turn into controlling tendencies or victimization.

Pile 4, you are bigger and better than the labels and burdens placed upon you. Let go of the harshness of the world and embrace the beautiful soul you were born to be. Celebrate yourself and find joy in the things that resonate with your spirit.

You might enjoy songs like “Just Right” by GOT7, “Nunu Nana” by Jessie, or “Born to Be” by Nano. Let them remind you of your worth and strength.

With love,

Your Friend

Abyss Seer

Pile 5

Confirmations:

child,baby,chidren,111, zen meditation, earth sign, mother mature, river goddess, mother gaia, a very beautiful meditative spot, a very good ecosystem, jeji,jiji,gg,gigi, shaktivism, devi energy coming through,

Jeju island in korea, best childhood memory relating to cellphone ringtone, come hard at me, hard carry got 7, alternating current, bird sound ringtone, nokia cellphone, 1980s to 1990s, remembering taking a phone call of a beloved family member, message of concern, coffin, news related to someone’s death, one question that doesn’t change in your mind,Rishab or bishop, motherly nature, very organized.

Pile3 and pile 1 could be significant for you

Dear Pile 5,

It seems you might be in a very vulnerable place right now. I’m sensing deep emotional struggles, and for some, even thoughts of self-harm. My dear Pile 5, if this resonates with you, please seek help immediately. If you’ve experienced abuse, emotional suppression, or even substance struggles, know that you are not alone. There are people who care, support systems available, and resources like suicide helplines to turn to.

If you feel lost, start small—reach out to a trusted friend, a past colleague, or someone you feel safe with. Don’t let the doubts planted in your mind stop you from seeking the help you deserve. You are worthy of healing and support.

For those of you who have endured this pain, justice will come—but don’t focus on revenge or the past. Instead, focus on you. Build yourself up, prioritize your mental health, and reclaim your strength. Therapy, support groups, and professional help can be lifesaving. There is no shame in seeking help—it is an act of courage.

You may feel like your dreams, energy, and hope have faded, but that’s just an illusion. You still have strength within you to start over. Listen to “N’y Pense Plus” by Tayc or “Daisy” by Stereo Dive Foundation—they might bring some solace. Remember, no matter how exhausted or defeated you feel, this heaviness is temporary, not your reality.

If your mind replays past memories or clings to moments of comfort during abuse, that’s your trauma talking. Be patient with yourself. Trauma takes time to heal, but healing is possible. If there’s someone you trust—someone whose words could lift you up—reach out to them now.

If you’re in an abusive relationship or situation, get out of it right away. Your intuition already knows who to turn to for safety and support. Listen to that voice inside you. You deserve love, care, and peace. Don’t carry this burden alone—talk to someone, even if it’s online. Vent, share, cry, but don’t keep it bottled up.

Pile 5, I love you, and I want you to take care of yourself. Healing starts when you reach out and let it all out. You are stronger than you think, and your life is worth fighting for.

Take care, my dear. I’ll leave you with this: you can and will rise again. You are not alone.

With love,

Your Friend

Abyss Seer

Pile 6

Confirmations:

Nature sound, bird watching, chirping of birds, nightangle, happy hare song, I need u by bts, run by bts, something about doing drggs in bathtub, Suffered by a bunch of goons, heart shapes, dwarf, someone breaking up on phone due to the other cheating, Taste – Sabrina Carpenter, Someone saying they have been known to share their (cookies) or (peonies) everywhere, hiring a Private Investigator to uncover that the person was lying about their misery to get money out of you 🫠🤷🏽‍♀️, Seven by Jungkook, you could want the cookie or peony seven days a weeks, 24x7, 365 days, s*x addicted, Dimple - BTS but all of it feels heavy illegal so it increases the taboo, Serenity by Jimin. I channeled "Kpop Singers, Kpop Band and Kpop Man" in my head, wanting to commit some sort of treason or illegal deed (or idk make them cheat ) for a lover, 100 ways by Jackson Wang, Pretty Please - Jackson Wang, Pretty Please by Dua Lipa, Someone's beggin someone to bite the forbidden apple, What the heck! Pile 6 you are interesting af, seems like you are hanging on the line between good and bad.

Dear Pile 6,

You’re not just a chess player—you’re the grandmaster of strategy! Your message carries the wisdom of ancestors, and you radiate a fiery resilience that reminds me of Daenerys from Game of Thrones. Like her, you’ve endured pain, abuse, and underestimation but transformed it all into wisdom. You waited, learned, and now stand ready to claim your crown. You’re the underestimated force no one saw coming—what a powerful energy!

Pile 6, I see you. You’ve worked hard, earned your success, and now indulge in the fruits of your labor. Luxury suits you. Seven by Jungkook? That’s your vibe, along with 365 days. But beneath it all, loneliness lingers. You may wonder if you’ll ever find true love or family again. Some of you may even feel orphaned in spirit, longing for connection.

You’re being asked to let things flow. Don’t overthink or take shortcuts to cope with disappointment. If a dream or relationship didn’t work out, stop replaying it in your mind. Release it. Change your perspective and focus on your growth. Your work likely involves communication or intellectual skills, so channel your energy there.

For those who feel a deep sadness from broken relationships or missed opportunities, let go of trying to rationalize what went wrong. The answers won’t soothe you. Focus instead on your aspirations. Someone here might resonate with country music, rural living, or have a love for animals like horses. Express your desires boldly—don’t shy away, even if you’re on the closeted side. Someone here could be from the year of horse or Ashwini, Shatabhisha, moola and Ardra (I was getting dog yoni) Nakshatra or a Sagittarius or can have a pet shop or stable full of horses.

If conflicts around family property, betrayal, or unresolved commitments are weighing on you, it’s time to release the baggage. Feeling cheated or betrayed, especially by family or a past lover, can be overwhelming. But holding onto anger only prolongs your pain. Stop revisiting old wounds or seeking validation from those who wronged you. If a cheater or manipulative ex resurfaces, don’t let their sob stories reel you back in. Protect your peace and move forward.

You’ve been blessed with a fresh start—don’t waste it looking backward. The attachments you hold to past people or situations may feel familiar, but they are chains. Trust me, better people and opportunities are waiting for you. If anyone from your past tries to return, proceed cautiously, and never let them exploit you again. Friends and lovers who only take from you aren’t worth your time.

Pile 6, you’re a star, and you deserve relationships that uplift you, not drag you down. Let go of anyone who dims your light. Cut the snakes from your garden and welcome those who genuinely care for you.

Stay radiant, stay strong, and have a fabulous day!

Bye-bye 😊

Your Friend

Abyss Seer

[tojisdeadwife]

cw: angst-ish? mentions of death, decomposition, bugs, implied suicidal gojo, sorcery high society and stuff like that <3

Thinking about a grieving Gojo Satoru.

Too young to die, but you did, anyway. There's no way to return you to life - and why? Why must he return you to a life you didn't want? You're better off six feet down, in a wooden coffin that hides and protects your corpse from the thoughts that plague his mind.

Dig you back up. Break that stupid coffin open, and watch your face for the last time. Have the maggots already eaten your face? Have your lips dried and cracked? Were your eyes still in place, or were they already withered? Would you come back to life if he kissed your cold, dead lips again and again? Would the coldness of your body seep into his own? Were your clothes wrinkled or were they as pristine as they were the last time he saw you wear them?

Would you have bugs and insects all over your skin? Were you tainted with dirt? He'd like to feel you against him for one last dance. Would the grayish-blue tint of your skin shine under the moonlight, and would your bones crack if he took you out? What would happen if he pressed his ear against your chest? Does alcohol, formalin and glycerin run in your system instead of blood? If he spoke to you, would your hum like you used to, or would you stay silent? Would you reply to his lame jokes with a “real funny, ‘toru” or would only the caw of crows be his response in the dead of night?

He can't stand to think this. The thoughts only seem to plague his mind. Who would be there to listen to him? He already lost Suguru. Shoko is affected, too, even if she doesn't let it show. Nanamin… He's gone, too. His students are too young. They need him to be strong. They're just kids.

But you were… Well, you were you. You were his only true friend, the only person he could count on even after everything. You were the one who helped him get back on his feet when he thought he couldn't do anything anymore, the one that got him his favorite sweets. So funny how something as mundane as buying him those cheap lollipops makes his chest tighten and a lump form on his throat. They taste like you. He swears he can see you clearly in front of him, a bunch of lollipops in one hand and a family sized bag of your favorite chips on the other, while he carries your favorite chunky sauce and the rest of the groceries for a very much needed Friday movie night in which you both would fall asleep on the first thirty minutes.

But you're not there. Friday movie nights are over. He's buying chips for nobody. Nobody waits for him at home.

Your laughter still rings in his ears, but it's an echo from the past. Your scent clings to him but he's wearing your perfume and your hair tie in his wrist. His usually bright blue eyes blur with unshed tears behind his dark blindfold, but he wears a smile despite everything. He is the strongest, isn't he? He can't afford to be weak, especially not now - his students depend on him.

The weight of the world is on his shoulders, and you were once there with him, helping him carry the burden. But now he's alone again. More alone than ever, and not even Gojo Satoru can stand that. Not after having you by his side, showing him he can be loved for him and not just his power and status.

He sits by your tombstone, with his long legs crossed and his gaze distant. He didn't even bother putting on the blindfold. A couple days old stubble grows on his face, and there's bags under his eyes. His muscles seem less defined, and his clothes seem to get bigger on his body. Unpolished, unlike himself. Small, for the first time.

“I'm tired, sweets.” Satoru murmurs with a strange voice, like a stranger has taken his body and wrecked it from the inside. He can feel himself rotting every single day that passes, the thread of his life getting thinner and thinner - and he can't wait for that final snap. He’ll take the damn scissors from Atropos herself and cut it himself. Just take him out of his misery.

Along the weight of the world on his shoulders, something weighs in his pocket. His left pocket, precisely. A small velvet box with a ring he wanted to give you - not asking your hand in marriage, of course, (not yet, anyway), but as a promise. A ring he saw and immediately thought of you. Of you wearing that gorgeous silver band with the azure gemstones that look just like his eyes and had his initials engraved inside, while he wore a matching one, with your eye color as the gemstones and your initials engraved on the inside of the band.

He just never had the time. Neither one. Too busy with missions and paperwork and teaching, it just never came up. And now it sits heavier than the weight of the sorcery society that was put on him. The same society that killed you and he has grown to resent and even hate.

He never got to fulfill the promise of a life together. Worse yet, he never got to confess his desire for a life together, and that's what hurts him the most. You never knew. You died, and he was such a coward that he never got to tell you how much he loved you.

a/n: very high-key inspired by cemetery girl - insane clown posse hehe. i finally wrote for gojo and look what came out. oh well.

[starsfic]

Here's an idea. How about MK is feeling conflicted thinking he is not meant to feel emotions since he is the Harbinger of Chaos. However, Red Son shows up and comforts him. He even kisses MK, making him feel love.

“What are you doing?”

When Red had heard the alert that something strange was on the roof of the fortress, he honestly expected an attack. Despite he and his mother’s best efforts after the release of his father, the Demon Bull family were still weak and vulnerable socially and politically. So, he had grabbed a spear, which now sat lifeless in his hands as he stared at the Noodle Boy.

He was just sitting there. He seemed to be staring at the moon, but when Red came to stand next to him, his eyes were distant. There was something off about him, almost to the point that Red wanted to shake him and see if he was still alive.

“You nearly set off our defenses,” Red tried. “I just didn’t want to wake my parents.” He set aside the spear and, unsure of what to do with his hands, tucked them in the pockets of his bathrobe.

“...”

“What’s going on?” A thought occurred to him. “Are we under attack?” This would be the first time they got an advance warning-

“Am I…real?”

“...excuse me?”

Xiaotian blinked, but his eyes were still distant. “I…Am I  real? I think…I think I am…but I’m not meant to be.”

Oh boy. This sounded more like an existential crisis. “Is this about whatever happened at the pillar?” Xiaojiao had let him know some details, but not everything. At least, not anything that wasn’t about the fact that the Noodle Boy had supposedly tried to kill himself.

Red hadn’t believed that. Not until now, with that distant look in his eyes and the fact that he sat on a ledge that overlooked a drop of over a hundred feet.

“I’m supposed to do one thing,” Xiaotian said, his voice weirdly empty. “And I didn’t do it. Am I…” He looked down, and Red jumped forward, grabbing his hood. He didn’t jump, however. He just stared at his hands. “Am I real? Am I a person? Can I even feel emotions?” His voice was thick with tears. “Or am I just an emotionless wind-up doll-”

“No!”

Red wasn’t sure what possessed him in that instant. He yanked Xiaotian from his seat and into his arms. The sudden movement made both of them fall over, his tailbone aching when they hit the ground, hard enough to make the spear fall over. However, he ignored it, just focusing on the weight and warmth in his arms.

“If you are an emotionless wind-up doll,” he said, barely allowing Xiaotian to pull away with eyes that were focused, that were here, in this moment. “Then you are the worst one I've ever met.”

“Uh, what-”

“Emotionless dolls don’t laugh when they are beating my father up!”

“Uh, sorry-”

“Emotionless dolls don’t scream when my mother is yanking them around with her wind!”

“I mean, your mom is kinda scary-”

“Emotionless dolls don’t start nearly crying when they reunite with their best friend, even after she blasted fire directly into their face.” Red thought about that for a second. “At least twice.”

“But-”

“No! You are not anything. The Harbinger of Chaos title does not define you! That is why you are here!” Red stood, yanking Xiaotian up with him. “And, if I hear you blaming yourself for whatever my family did and taking the credit for my work, I will be stuffing you in a bronze bull.” He wouldn’t light it, but Xiaotian could be left with that image. “Now-” 

Red sighed, taking a deep breath in. 

He wasn’t sure what happened next. The impulse just hit him. 

He leaned in and kissed Xiaotian’s forehead.

“Go to bed.”

Xiaotian stood there, staring with wide eyes. Red raised a brow, waiting for his complaints or pleading to stay. Instead, the Noodle Boy’s hair puffed as his glamor disappeared, revealing soft-looking brown fur. His tail was thrashing back and forth.

“Uh…ye-yeah!” His voice cracked, but Red was nice enough to ignore it. “Right…thanks, Red. Good night.”

“Of course.”

The Noodle Boy disappeared in a puff of gold, a brown sparrow taking off with a chirp goodbye.

Red sighed when the bird disappeared. He grabbed the spear and turned to head back to the bed.

His lips tingled.

[rhiannonsknife]

confession… i’ve only JUST finished watching yellowjackets 🫥

anyway i’m thinking a lot about adult shauna (but honestly when am i not?). something about the way she’s always seen her love as fatal, that anyone who gets close to her will die or be taken away from her. makes me so upset :(

i need to give her a million little kisses and teach her that it’s okay to love and it’s not something to be scared of. that her love is not dangerous and she’s not a monster.

- 🦔

now why would you do this to me 🦔 anon?? all i do is cry to your asks god DAMN!!

the first time shauna lets you touch her, really touch her, feels like it’s not real at all. like your imagination is playing tricks on you, allowing you to see a version of her where she actually lets you do what you’ve been wanting to for the longest time.

not because she’s unattainable or distant with you (though she can be), but because you know how much effort it takes for her to let anyone in. every gesture, every word, every tender feeling is something she has learned to be wary of, something that might explode in her face if she’s not careful enough. and you, you’re relentless. gentle, but relentless. and that scares her more than anything else.

“why do you even want this?” she asks that night, her voice raw, her body a rigid line beside you in your bed. the rest of the room is dark, save for the soft glow of the bedside lamp behind shauna. she’s on her back, looking up at the ceiling instead of at you.

“you should…” the pillow rustles under her head when she turns to look at you. “i don’t know…walk away! otherwise it’ll be too late,”

her words get to you. not because you believe them, but because shauna does. you prop yourself up on one elbow, looking down at her. “too late for what?” you ask. “to love you?”

shauna’s jaw clenches, and she turns her head away. “i was gonna say survive me,” she scoffs.

you can see the ghosts she carries behind her eyes, the weight of years spent convincing herself that loving her is not a blessing but a curse. that the things she’s done, the things she’s lived through that she never talks about, have left her irreparably broken. dangerous, maybe even.

“shauna,” you whisper, your fingers brushing against her arm. she flinches at first, but you don’t pull away. you let your hand settle, a warm, grounding sensation against her cool skin. “your love isn’t fatal,”

she exhales a shaky breath, her eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “you don’t even know what i’ve done,”

“i don’t have to,” you tell her firmly. “whatever it is, it doesn’t define you. it…it doesn’t make you unworthy of being loved!”

shauna’s lips press into a thin line, her defenses cracking but not yet crumbling. you shift closer, letting your hand trail up to her face. when you cradle her cheek, she finally turns to look at you again.

“you’re not some kind of monster,” you say softly, your thumb brushing the curve of her cheek. “and if you think for just a second that i’m scared of loving you, you’re wrong.”

“and what if i ruin you? what then?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“you won’t,” you promise quietly. if she wasn’t so close to you, she wouldn’t hear it at all. “you won’t ruin me, shauna”

you lean down and press the gentlest kiss to her forehead. it’s not hurried or desperate. it’s steady, deliberate, a vow in its own right and so unlike your usual encounters. then another kiss, this one to her temple, and then her cheek. a million little reminders that you’re still here, that she’s safe.

shauna’s breath hitches as she reaches up, her hand trembling as it finds yours where it rests against her face. she just holds it there, her fingers curling around yours as you press another kiss to her jaw, and then one to the side of her mouth.

her lips part slightly, a shaky exhale escaping her, but she doesn’t pull away. she even leans into you, like she’s waiting to see if the world will shatter around her if she lets herself have this. and when it doesn’t, when it’s just you, she closes her eyes, her defenses crumbling at last.

“you’re safe with me,” you promise against her skin, your lips brushing her cheekbone, her temple, her hairline. you can feel her body relaxing, her breath evening out. “i’m here, shauna. i’m not going anywhere,”

[justanothermemestrider]

40k Sfw Alphabet: Perturabo

As per the poll, Peter T is next for the alphabet series! I have a particular and peculiar soft spot for this man. I don't fully understand why, but it did make writing this one a lot of fun.

I apologise for any spelling errors, ooc moments and grammatical mistakes. If you guys have any requests for future headcanons or fics, please send them thru!

Otherwise, please enjoy :)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Showing affection does not come easily to Perturabo, but that does not make him an unaffectionate person. All his life, he's been starved of unconditional compassion, and that has hardened his heart. But beneath all of that is a man who craves affection. Perty may not be willing to admit it to himself, but that doesn't stop it from being true. And when you suddenly. come along, showing him that yes, there are people in this world who can and will love him for him, not for how he might serve them, those walls around his heart will begin to erode.

After that, Perty will show his affection for you through gifts and acts of service. You will never be left wanting for anything, and often you will return to your shared home to find a new ornament, music box, fidget toy or other such trinket left out for you. Handcrafted by your husband to assure you that, while he struggles with words and physical touch, he loves you in his own way.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Have you guys seen those memes on Instagram and/or tiktok about the mean-girl-who's-actually-a-girl's-girl? You know, someone who looks and acts all mean and judgy, but in a pinch will absolutely step up to help a friend in need? I see Perturabo being that kind of best friend.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Perty doesn't like cuddling but for your sake he will... tolerate it. He might grumble and complain, but he'd never deny you. When you do cuddle, he's a big spoon all the way, holding you from behind or lift you up onto his chest, resting his arms around you like weighted blankets. Secretly, he craves physical touch, but he's way too prideful to ever admit it.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Perturabo's biggest want in life is to be seen as something other than a war machine. He wants to build what he wants, to live how he wants, and he wants to do so without judgement. So, absolutely, I can see Perty wanting to settle down. Eventually, he wants a calm, peaceful life where he can build toys instead of tanks and playhouses instead of siege weapons.

Also, he would be a fantastic house husband. So long as you show him the right amount of appreciation for what he does, he would love nothing more than to stay at home, build his contraptions and be left to do his own thing. Side note: if you were the bread winner of the pairing, Perty's pride might be hurt on instinct, but I could see him getting over it. He would see that your going out and earning a living for your both gives him the time he needs for all the little projects he's been wanting to work on.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Yikes. I mean, there are definately worse 40k characters to break up with, but Perty is definately up there. Expect a lot of shouting, a lot of insults and so, so much pettiness. It's not because he actually means any of it, though: it's all to cover up how heart broken he is.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Perturabo is absolutely lives by commitment, and this extends to your relationship. Once he's squared enough of his demons away to understand that he loves you, he's never going to want to let you go. Your engagement ring will be the finest, most intricate piece of jewelry ever crafted by a human hand, as would be your wedding bands, dress and veil. In a compete reversal of tradition, Perty would demand to take full charge of planning the wedding. The stress of trying to ensure that everything will be perfect, though, would have the poor man ripping the cables out of his scalp, so be prepared to give him ample moral support.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Contrary to popular belief, and his own exterior persona, Perturabo is surprisingly good at being gentle. It's doesn't come naturally: particularly with the emotional side of things, he has to make a concerted effort. But like everything he does, when Perty puts his mind to something, he is always staggeringly competent at it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Much like cuddles, Perty doesn't like hugs, but for your sake he will tolerate them. And if he can see that you are upset, ill or otherwise under the weather, he will initiate the embrace in order to comfort you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not very fast. Not very fast at all. I do think that, eventually, he would muster up the courage to say it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

In my humble opinion, Perturabo is the most jealous of the primarchs. And this is because he's easily the most insecure. Any indication that another man might MIGHT be interested in you, Perty is spiralling. In these moments, he will be angry, not at you mind you, but rather the offending male. He will need your every reassurance and bit of praise.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

At first, Perturabo's kisses are stiff and mechanical. He doesn't really know what he's doing, and such intimate physical touch makes him feel awkward and uncomfortable. Once he gets over that, though, his kisses become hard, aggressive and overpowering. They'll make your jaw ache and lips swell up.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Terrible at interacting with children, absolutely unrivalled at making the things that children like or need. Toys, cribs, cradles, mobiles, walkers and everything in between, Perturabo can and enjoys to make.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Perturabo is almost never in bed when you wake up. He's always up early so as to get ahead of his work. When you eventually get up, though, you'll usually find a plate of freshly-made breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Perturabo rarely sleeps first- you'll be already half asleep by the time he finally makes it to bed. It's during these late night moments, when he is feeling tired, peaceful and a little horny, that he is the most physically affectionate. He will kiss your neck, pull you into his chest and simply enjoy the feel of your body and your energy.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Perturabo is far from keen to reveal things about himself to you. The surface level things, sure, but anything deeper than where he lives and what he likes to do in his spare time, he's more than hesitant to share. This is for two reasons: one, his past is a dark thing, not a lot there that he likes to relive. And two, many of the things he's done in the past, he is ashamed of, and he has a lot of regrets. With his insecurities already being neck-high, he can't bear the thought of you knowing about them, lest you think less of him or even decide he is not worth your love.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Perturabo's temper has an infamously short fuse, and that doesn't change when he's with you. If he's stressed, tired or pissed off, it's gonna be your problem as much as his. Just don't take it to heart because it's not your fault. It's never your fault. And if he says something that might insinuate that, he will make it up to you with a special gift or gesture (he's not yet mature enough to say sorry, so he's gotta show it).

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Perturabo is as detail orientated a person as you could get. Therefore, he remembers everything about you. Even the weirdest, most mundane things. Like the way you tend to hold a knife and fork. How long exactly you tend to brush your teeth for. Random stuff like that, he just remembers. His knowledge of your habits and quirks is near-encyclopedic.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

I know this is the sfw alphabet, but for this one I gotta say it's the first time you two shared a bed. It was Perry's first time, and let me tell you, it changed him. And it was thanks to the clarity and peacefulness of the afterglow that he was able to finally admit to himself (and to you) that yes, he does in fact love you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Perturabo is hyper protective. Partially out of jealousy, partially out of fear for your safety. You are literally the only good thing that's even happened to him. You're the one person who has given him the affection, validation and appreciation that he has needed ever since he was a little boy. If anything happened to you... Perturabo can't even bear to think about it.

As for Perty himself, he needs you to protect his heart. Specifically, his self esteem and his self worth. He won't ever ask for it, but you'll be able to tell when he needs a kind word or loving touch.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

All of these fall under acts of service. Therefore, Perturabo excels at all of them.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I think all of Perturabo's problems can be catagorized as a lack of emotional maturity and a very damaged, weakened sense of self worth. His relationship with you forces him to become self aware of these issues, but it is a monumentous task overcoming them.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not really at all. Perturabo cares only for functionality, not fashion.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yup. See P for some elaboration as to why.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Perty talks in his sleep. Soft little mumblings and coos that are entirely incoherent and totally, utterly cute. He doesn't even know he does it.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Honestly? Perty wouldn't like being with someone who reminded him of him. He needs an opposite; someone who balances him out rather than matches him. If it wasn't that, then the relationship would crumble under the weight of bad tempers, insecurity and emotional deregulation.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Perturabo's sleep schedule is almost non existent. Seriously the man hardly sleeps at all. Often times, when night time rolls around and it's time for you to go to sleep, he'll lift you into his lap and let you sleep there, pressed back against his chest or curled up on your side using his arm as a pillow, while he continues working on whatever pet project he's got going at that moment.

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty

[witcheshollow]

Finishing the golden raven knocked me the fuck out so my Coherent and Eloquent thoughts are gonna have to wait so enjoy this very spoilery mash up of whatever is coming to mind now before I do a proper deep dive

-I was really expecting more in terms of jerejean development, but Im not surprised that nora is waiting until the last book. I would assume there is also a bit to do with them having originally not been intended for one another... and on that front I dont remember nora ever confirming them officially just her deleting the ec and saying she isnt letting it define these three books. Which does point to jerejean endgame but ((and correct me NICELY if im wrong)) she never officially said the two of them are to get together.

-tagging off that point: something about the pacing of this book felt very similar to the pacing of tkm. There were quite a few scenes that felt very similar to tkm, the general flow was also very similar. Just instead of jerejeans relationship forming we got jean forming relationships in general

-again tagging onto that, the scene where he braided lailas hair was the scene that made me cry hardest.

-what we saw of the foxes made me so violently ill in the best way possible. The fear in jean at seeing neil laying on the court floor after a raven check AGAIN was so brutal, even through jeremys pov. I dont think we would have survived the raven/fox game through jeans eyes tbh. Jean had too much on the line. He would never admit it but he loves neil, Neil is essentially family to him. We see that in his blind and unending trust in him

-again, sue me, speaking of that. Why the fuck did neil not tell AT LEAST Andrew abt his doings in california??? Was it to avoid bringing up andrews trauma?? Bc anything else goes so violently against everything that andriel is i will not stand for it. If this fandom is good at one thing its saying to hell with canon and making up what we want to believe and I will blind myself into whatever fanon I need to if we get a reason for neils omission as anything other than misguided protection of Andrew. Bc yes, it would be misguided. Letting his bf know he put a fucking hit out on someone is smt he should have done despite the state and circumstances. Though I digress

-back to jean and the fox/raven game. He was so fucking worried abt neil and andrew that I all out refuse to believe we wont get more updates. I know that this series is jeans, and Im not saying give either of them a pov or anything, but it would be nice if we got to see the two of them have a conversation with Jean together in the next book. Maybe andrews arm slung across neils shoulders as they watch him graduate??

-im pretty sure what we are leading up to championship wise is a fox/trojan showdown. Despite what Jean said abt not knowing if the foxes can pull off a miracle two years in a row and the whole freshman fox situation, Im betting that is going to be where we end. And as far as who wins, I have no guesses. The foxes beat the ravens at full strength with nine players and a prayer. Despite how badly the last of the ravens fucked them up, I am willing to put good money that nora will plot armor their asses to championships.

-speaking of plot armor, how the fuck did andrew manage to take neils weight, even if it wasnt all of it, to help him off the field with a broken clavicle that required surgery???? Ik wymack and abby got there in a couple seconds but Andrew still managed to do it

-okay Ill, begrudgingly, put the foxes aside bc i have more thoughts

-I love jeremy, Jean, cat and lailas casual intimacy with one another. The four of them move as a singular unit half the time and it holds a special place in my heart

-I do kind of think that this next book is going to end with Jeremy forsaking his family. We are seeing the cracks in whatever resolve he had up and to this point. And to back that up, while their different in so many ways, the series is taking some hints from the structure of the original trilogy and with that I dont think its an unreasonable stretch to assume that there is going to be another "who is he going to choose" moment. And how beautiful would that be to have the choice be between soulmate and family yet again? This time tho I think we will get a clearer answer if this happens again bc it genuinely took me like two full rereads of the og trilogy to piece together that andrew actually chose neil and I know from friends that Im not alone in this.

-as far as jerejean, I do think that the progression of their relationship is going to be similar tho different from andriels. Also I use their ship names to refere to them bc im too exhausted to type out their names, sue me. Anyways, I think that as far as similarities, there is a good chance it is going to start out sexual. Jeremy doesnt have enough belief in himself to have an actual relationship and Jean still has a lot of internalized homophobia from the nest ((riko)) to sort through. If I had to make an educated guess I would say something abt Jean reclaiming his body and Jeremy slowly realizing that he is allowed to give this part of himself to someone who actually cares for him. Though as far as how I think their gonna be different from andriel... well I mean it doesnt take a genius to figure that their probably going to be a bit more openly affectionate/quite a bit less derranged. I do also assume that if we get a canonical endgame jerejean that Jeremy is going to have to cut ties with his family. They are violently homophobic and will probably not have any interest in entertaining the idea of jeremy being associated with them any further

-stepping away from their relationship bc i just remembered something. Jeremy calls his father sir, which i know is a thing a lot of military kids do but it is also obviously indicative that Jeremy has respect for this man regardless of his continued absence in his life. It might just be that he is the parent who wasnt there to be abusive towards him... or it might be that jeremys father, in some way, deserves the respect?? We know Jeremy has a complicated relationship with his family and how he sees them we see that in his "shes my mom cat" towards the end and ofc throughout the rest of the book. But Jeremy was the one who kept reaching out, and kept his fathers calls logged in a journal, and still refers to him with honorifics- i want more Jeremy lore

-back to jerejean, im willing to bet that we are going to get an "i cant pick him over my family" breakdown from Jeremy and Im guessing that it is going to be William who helps him make the decision. "If you cant tell whos side im on your not as smart as I thought" or whatever it was that he said. He wants Jeremy to be happy, he knows Jeremy is not happy in that damn house, and he has shown that he is willing to buck the rules to ensure that Jeremy can scrounge up whatever joy he can.

-I think jeans moment of panic is going to be more of an internal thing, like "am I even good enough to ask Jeremy to forsake his family for me" and despite all the logic I think it is going to be Neil who he calls. Bc Neil did that. As far as Jean knows Neil could have deadass looked at Andrew and went "me or Aaron" he wasnt there for it like we were. And I think Neil is going to be his usual criptic self but give enough reassurance that he gets an affectionate "your a vile wretch" from Jean or smt of the sort.

-wymack still considering Jean one of his kids even if he isnt a fox warms my heart. He called Jean. He let kevin send Jean to California. He was willing to do whatever Jean asked. Wymack my love

-speaking of coaches who kill me every chance they get: rhemann. Fucking hell i love that man. He had my heart before jeans breakdown but afterwards? He earned himself a nice shiny spot next to wymack. With the way Jean described the preceeding events Im assuming rhemann had to carry him out of the gold court or at the very least shoulder most of his weight to get him out bc Jean seemed fairly out of it, and rhemann definetly had to carry him into the house once they got there bc if jeans recollection is right Im pretty sure he was unconscious and if not then so heavily disassociated I dont think he would have been coherent enough.

-also small shout out to rhemann and adi, love them

-the end scene of the book has me conflicted. And this is probably going to be my last bullet point bc I am dead tired rn. While I do, obviously, understand that Jean wasnt sure what Jeremy was doing when he leaned over to kiss rex/jaberwackys head, I dont really understand what Jeans gut reaction there was. He doesnt explain in his internal monologue, he is far more worried abt making Jeremy less terrified and keeping the dog safe. But the reaction was instinctual, almost seemingly second nature. Which I dont 100% understand. Jeremy and Jean are often very close to one another, in each others orbit more than their not to quote Jean ((yes I know he said this abt andriel that isnt what I meant)) and Jean has stated repeatedly that he whole heartedly trusts Jeremy. Also the gut reaction in context doesnt necessarily make sense to me, it might be a me thing Im not discrediting that, and also traumatized people sometimes have instincts that only make sense to them if that bc their brain is in survival mode, so it might have been an attempt by nora to show that, but having it as the last scene in the book feels odd to me. The only thing I can assume is that Jean wasnt processing what was happening just saw jeremy coming at him quickly and reacted but also we see him not reacting to other similar situations often. You could argue that its bc Jean has feelings for Jeremy but we see Jean not reacting to Jeremy making fast movements, getting in his space and touching him throughout the series so far so I just dont get it. Now there could be a less meta reason for it, being that nora needed smt to trigger Jean thinking abt how the rules he has held to arent in place anymore but they are for him but maybe he could let them go but trauma. But he thinks pretty similar thoughts in other parts of the series too so I just dont understand. And it might be me, Im not saying it vouldnt be. Idk, I feel like the last scene in thebbook was an odd place to have such a vaugely explained and not previously seen trauma response from Jean towards Jeremy.

Okay thats all. Im gonna reread the series with tgr and give more well rounded and coherent thoughts some time in the next week. If you read all of this consider yourself a saint