#without it getting in the way of others' blogging

[calla-lily-flower]

I'm not usually one to make a callout blog, but I don't think it's right to be silent any longer. I'd also like to say that I have no problem with tracing so long as it's transformative enough that no one can tell it's traced.

However, this artist is steadily gaining popularity in the Bloodweave fandom and the more I think about it, the more uncomfortable I get with the fact that this artist is popular. Why? Because they're tracing stock images and still frames from films, and instead of acknowledging this, they're passing off this work as their own original ideas. I know the correct thing to do would be to notify this artist before I go public with this information, but based on my interactions with this artist, along seeing other people's interactions with this artist, I do not think this is appropriate. This artist has a lot of friends who are also quite popular in the Bloodweave community, which is why I'm doing this on a burner account and not my actual account.

A few words of advice: to the artist's friends, if you dismiss this as drama, I will assume that you have not read this piece in full. I would like to restate I do not take this post lightly. If this was a one time thing, I would ignore it. However, this is not a one time thing, and you are tarnishing your own work by hanging around this artist. To the artist: you cannot delete your work to hide, as I have already saved the pieces to the Internet Archive. The internet is forever, my love. To both the artist and their friends: my understanding is that there are tensions between you and some other members of the Bloodweave community. I am not associated or affiliated with those members. I am a third party who became concerned once I saw this first picture, and things escalated from there. Similar to the drama comment above, if you associate this with the people you have friction with, I'll assume you haven't read the post.

Without further ado, here we go.

The artist I'm referring to is calolily. I hate that I have to make this post, because I was a fan of their work for a long time. However, in March, calolily posted this image:

As a certified horse girl, this image threw me off. For those of you who don't get what I'm saying, the issue is with the bit: the metal thing that goes in a horse's mouth. On a horse, it goes in towards the middle of their mouth, behind their incisors (which are the teeth you can see when a horse opens their mouth) into their interdental space, which is basically a long stretch of gum that's in front of the horse's molars. A good fitting bit should not be uncomfortable for a horse. However, this is where calolily has it positioned:

Right in front of the horse's incisors. Ignoring that there's no way the bit would stay in the horse's mouth at that point, if the bit was there, that would be a very unhappy horse. That bottom part is where some (not all, as most reins should sit at the bit) reins would sit.

Despite that, I didn't think the image was traced at first. I know bridles can be hard to draw, so I ignored it. That is, until I was looking for references images for my own piece of cowboy artwork, and found this:

You don't see the similarities? That's all right, I'll help you:

Now I'll admit, at first I didn't get too freaked out by this. Horses are a bitch to draw, so I'm not going to blame someone if they need help getting them done. Was I a little annoyed that calolily didn't say that they traced? Sure, but I thought it was a one-off.

That is, until I saw this:

The left image is calolily's drawing of Gale from their professor AU. The right image is a still from the movie "We Don't Live Here Anymore." Once again, I'm providing a side by side alongside an overlay.

(I am so bad at overlays, but I hope you see the point I'm trying to make.)

It's one thing to copy a picture from a stock artist. It's a little scummy, yes. It's definitely copyright infringement, but people turn a blind eye to it if you're a hobbyist. Copying a still from a movie without crediting it? Only making light changes, like swapping out the watch for a wedding ring and adding a periodic table to the background? Not okay. That's someone else's art you're taking away from them.

But it's whatever, right? It's not like calolily's making money off this, right?

Right???

The left image is a print from calolily's Inprnt page. There's a sale on right now, so you can purchase prints range from $6 (regular $8) to $78.75 (regular $105). The right image is a bondage ad.

I'm not going to point out the similarities on this one. I'm sure you can see how the arms and hands are positioned in the same way, how the only change is making the picture more "Gale" like. I've never purchased calolily's work, but if I was interested in purchasing a commission from them, I'd be worried. Would I get an original piece or would I get a traced bondage ad? Who knows.

Maybe this is a recent development though. Maybe calolily got inundated with requests and, not wanting to let their fans down, decided to take some shortcuts to keep their fans happy.

Ha.

On April 19th, calolily posted an "art improvement" post. Perhaps the improved post was traced, but surely the before was--oh, it was traced too? Alright then. The worst part is that this tracing was not from a movie or one of those giant stock image sites or even an ad. This one was from an independent stock photographer named Rob Lang, and as far as I can tell, he hasn't been licensed out to another stock site. He's freelance.

Unless this drawing was made in the past week, I'm going to assume that tracing has been a long time thing with calolily.

I don't get it. If they'd hidden some of the minor details like the shirt folds and the finger positions, I don't think anyone would've noticed. Hell, I didn't notice until I realized there was something wrong with that horse drawing. And I have zero doubt there's more. What's the old saying? Once is a mistake, twice is a habit? Seems like calolily's been on this habit for a while then.

I know some of you are going to brush this off as this not mattering because it's just stock images or that everyone traces, but the thing is, do you trace as noticeably as this? I don't think you do. And these are all someone's hard work they're passing off as their own, even the bondage ad, even the stock images, and I don't think that's right.

Where do we go from here? I have answers for two different groups of people.

For calolily's friends: Don't defend them. All of you are artists yourselves and surely none of you would do anything this blatant. If you still want to associate with calolily, then hold them accountable. Make sure they don't do this again. If you want to stop associating with them, then explain why. Don't be unnecessarily cruel, but be honest. If you were duped alongside the rest of us, post screenshots and get captures of any images you suspect are traced (because I know there are more) before calolily deletes them.

For calolily: Don't delete. Like I said, the internet is forever. Don't lie either. I know your favorite excuse is that you were an animator so you can draw from reference really fast, but does that explain the same shirt folds? The same finger positions? It doesn't. Instead, I recommend you come clean about all the pictures you traced and provide either links or pictures of them. Apologize to your fans. Apologize to the people you've hurt, because you've hurt a lot of them. Strive to do better.

Don't be a James Somerton.

And know this: if you try and hide this, know that it'll keep coming back. I think it'd be better to come clean now, don't you?

[lukolathoughts]

Women's rights

(trigger warning. Also, please be kind as I discuss some personal issues. I will block all negative comments, but I welcome opinions.)

Hi everyone, hope you are all doing well. I knew last night was going to be rough. It happens whenever I write a blog post. As soon as I saw that story from Jake yesterday thanking Aimee - Nic's stylist for her help, I knew he would at the Bafta party. What I didn't expect was that Nicola would pose on the red carpet with him for staged and awkward looking photos. I did a double take in astonishment at his white trainers paired with a ill fitting suit, that did not match Nicola's outfit. The photos were stiff and awkward, Nicola forcing a smile of adoration and Jake rarely looking at her. It screamed PR and FAKE FAKE FAKE. This is not us Lukola's being in denial, this just simply what we see with our own eyes.

The question I posed in yesterdays blog titled - 'The crazy woman in the attic' was, what is in the attic exactly? What on earth is going on that Nicola and Luke need to go to these kind of extremes? What secret are they protecting? This cannot be the solution. Nicola, I hope your team sends you this and I will try and be as kind and gracious as possible with my opinions. Also, remember readers these are my opinions. Jakeholes, just block me and move on. As I have said, this is not the place for you.

I am going to go into a bit of personal information about me just to give you some context. I grew up in a extremely unsettled home. My father was physically violent to my mother and I witnessed a lot. I struggled with not being able to save her. I still carry this guilt to this day, and I have never been able to forgive my dad. We left when I was nine, but by that time I had seen a lot. I met my ex when I was 19 and that turned into an emotionally abusive relationship, made all the more harder as I was living with him abroad. When I came home, I was an absolute wreck and I needed that time to heal and be on my own, with support from my family and friends. I was then very lucky to meet my own Colin Bridgerton and that is where we are today. One of the habits I developed as a child to cope and hide I suppose was to watch my television shows. I love my TV shows and movies. It just settles me and I can escape for a few hours. It's no real surprise to me that I adore Bridgerton.

OK, ZG, what does this have to do with Nic? Well, I do love a strong female character and I adore Penelope and I have admiration for Nicola and all she believes in. She is a role model to me. However, the biggest role model in my life other than Buffy, is obviously my mum. She worries me to death that woman and is a Capricorn also, incidentally she is now married to an Aquarius. Stubborn as a mule, but a heart of gold, my mum. I keep going back mentally to wishing I could have done something as a child to help her. As most of you know, I'm a teacher. At the moment, I am working on a project to get young parents back into work or education in deprived areas by improving their literacy, numeracy and other skills. I have loved this project and helping these women has been fantastic. Without saying too much, some of these women have dealt with the worst kinds of abuse I have ever seen or heard. Coercive control is much more prevalent now amongst abusers. I am an empath as well, so I take a lot of this emotion home with me and I guess the fandom and Nicola and Luke have helped me channel this elsewhere and allow me to escape.

I have known gay men my whole life. My first cousin was always very open about his sexuality, even before we understood what it meant. It was just the way he was. I had a gay BFF in primary school, college and all through my twenties I mixed with the albeit minimal gay scene where I live. I have not had much experience with the trans community, I'll be honest, other than visiting the gay bars in Swansea and Cardiff with my friend S. I just don't have the same emotional connection to the trans community as Nicola does. I support rights of women. I shouldn't feel guilty for saying that loud. I fight for their right to work and education and for making a better world for their children. I fight for my own children. I write what I write as a mother myself and especially a mother to a daughter.

One of the most upsetting things in the last few years was the Manchester Bombing. On 22 May 2017, following a concert by the American pop singer Ariana Grande. Perpetrated by Islamic extremist Salman Abedi and aided by his brother, Hashem Abedi, the bombing occurred at 22:31 and killed 22 people. Most of these victims were young women and girls. The murder of Sarah Everard by police officer Wayne Couzen's in 2021 was one of the most sickening cases I had ever read and the media tried to blame Sarah for her own murder for daring to walk home alone at night. Last summer, in Southport, a mad man broke into a little girls dance studio at a Taylor Swift themed dance class and knifed to death three little girls and stabbed countless others. Kyle Clifford, broke into his ex girlfriends house and killed her, her sister and her mother with a crossbow last year also.

These are the kind of stories that keep me awake at night, not whether trans women are allowed to use the women's toilets or not and whatever else. I don't want men in our spaces and I don't think they should be. But, I give Nicola some grace, because she is raising money for a cause she believes in it. I will not begrudge her that. What I do begrudge her for is after successfully raising so much money, she then proceeds to counteract everything she was campaigning for by walking Jake Dunn down the red carpet and presenting him to the media as her 'boyfriend'. To me, this is deeply hypocritical. Jake is known to the industry as a queer actor. Jake is starring in an upcoming BBC drama about trans rights where he plays a queer role. All this has done is upset her fans and enrage the LGBTQ community. Jake's stylist Miller Mode posted a very interesting story post today saying he was a stylist for queers, weirds and beards. How fascinating is that? How many more of these posts will we see and how many of the community will start to turn their backs on Nicola and Jake? Miller mode also refers to Jake as a 'princess' and 'she'.

Jake is also doing press for his show today What it feels like for a girl and he's back on Instagram today promoting trans rights as if last night didn't happen. Maybe he and Nic wish it didn't. She has been eerily silent today so far and I'm sorry but Nic, you made your bed, now you must lie in it. That carriage scene is iconic and partly because Luke was so magnificent in delivering his love declaration. The scene is magic, with chemistry like no other. Luke should have been there last night. I find it fascinating that we have yet to see Jake and Luke interact. I think it is glaringly obvious why, gentle reader. Luke can't lie to save his life. He'd be too busy glaring daggers at Jake, and Jake in turn would be salivating over Luke. It would be hilarious and frankly, I would love to see it. I find the candid photo of Jake eyeing up the hot Love Island contestant last night poetic justice and there is the truth right there. But yet we are still vilified on SM for suggesting Jake is gay and not at all interested in Nicola. This has nothing to do with Nicola, by the way. If I was with Nic, I probably would never stop smiling, but Jake can't bring himself to do it. It's not because she's unattractive, it's because she's literally not his type. Period. She is a woman.

I will continue to stand up for women, including Nicola, but lovely you gotta throw me a bone here. You want your fans to hang around and cheer for you? Then don't repeatedly slap us in the face and undermine our intelligence. Be honest and tell us what you and Luke are hiding in that damn attic, because it isn't Jake Dunn, he's out and proud.

[sourpeachsayshi]

Hiiiii Peach! Could I request something with Zayne? Like Akso Hospital has an important dinner and MC/Reader was teasing Zayne the whole time and on the ride home he is very quiet but once both step into the apartment he loses composure and goes all out? 👀👀👀 please and thank youuuuu!!!

minors - ageless - blank blogs dni 

notes: . cw: zayne losing his control; sex without protection

you stare out the car window, your eyes shifting towards zayne whose gaze remains fixed on the road. it's silent, but not in a comfortable way. you nervously play with the string of your necklace, a worrisome lump lingering at the base of your throat.

you really put in a lot of effort to get dolled up for this dinner tonight. you picked a dress that would surely make his jaw drop at the sight of you. but instead, zayne gave you a quick up and down look before instructing bluntly that you should head out so you can make it in time.

you weren't expecting a massive reaction, but you at least hoped that he would say something as simple as "you look beautiful".

you did everything in your power to lure a compliment out of him, but there was not a single reaction. and now that you're both driving back, you're starting to wonder if maybe you crossed a line.

it was an important dinner, after all.

and zayne takes everything far too seriously.

sometimes you wish he would loosen up, and you feel selfish for being this disappointed by the obvious lack of enthusiasm.

it stung your pride.

he parks the car to his apartment, and opens the door for you like the gentleman he is. your eyes shift to the ground, and you mumble a thank you before pattering to his door. you pull out the spare key and unlock it, completely unaware of how zayne's attention has darkened in your direction.

you step inside and sigh, before placing your clutch down onto the first surface you see.

"I should get changed," you say with discontent. "It's late..."

But a hand grips your wrist when you walk away, pulling you back with enough strength to make you lose your balance and fall directly into zayne's arms.

he spins you around, and pins you to the wall.

one hand holds your wrists, the other finding your cheek and he holds you there before pressing his mouth against yours in a hot kiss.

"where do you think you're going?" he whispers.

he pulls out a breathy reply from you, "bed?" you answer with no confidence, your heart pounding in your ears from the sudden reaction.

he lets go of your wrist, and curls one hand on the small of your back. his other hand clasps around your throat, and he looks at you with an intimidating stare and blushed cheeks.

"I have you to myself now" he exhales pointedly, his eyes lingering over every detail of your body. from your lips, to your heaving chest, to the way the dress clings onto your curves and lines in a seamless flow. he licks his lips like he's famished, and flickers his attention back up towards you as he watches your lips part in surprise.

"where is this coming from so suddenly?" you ponder with innocence and a furrow of your brows.

zayne leans his head forward, and drags his nose up the column of your neck to breathe in your perfume. "I made a mistake bringing you tonight," he hums into your soft skin, "I thought having you by my side would be good for my nerves. instead, you had me on edge the entire night..."

you squeak when the hand on your back dips lower. zayne grabs your ass and sinks his teeth into the side of your neck. you whimper underneath his frame, both your hands finding the breadth of his shoulders.

"fuck, I knew it-" his voice breaks out of desperation, "you're not wearing anything under this dress are you?"

he pulls away and you look at him guiltily. "uhm-" you proceed to speak, finding the words to explain yourself, "everything else was showing through the fabric, so I just thought-"

he huffs out a laugh like he's being tortured, and bites his bottom lip before looking down at you with a burning desire, it makes your heart shake with excitement for what's to come next.

"you just thought you would test me on the one night I needed to keep it together?" he scolds, "I'm supposed to be working for grants from these sponsors for the sake of the hospital, but instead all I can think about is you. and how do you help me?"

he slides his hand forward, and cups your pussy through the fabric. the space between your legs pulses, "you distract me. over and over again. have every man at the gala salivating over you. have me wondering if I should explain to them that I can surgically remove their eyes if they keep looking at what's mine..."

"zayne..."

"I'm not supposed to be violent towards my sponsors," he explains, like he's trying to maintain whatever dignity he can. "I'm not supposed to think about the ways I would take you in front of them, to show them how thorough I am with all the responsibilities I hold..."

he's rubbing the material of your dress, pressing it up against your wet pussy.

"I can see the look on their faces when they saw us. how someone like you would ended up with me...but they have no idea," he whispers, "of the distinctive ways I force prayers out of your mouth when we are all alone in bed at night..."

you gulp down your reply, your nipples hardening at the way his voice dips.

"I think I would like to hear it again actually," he dictates, and that's how you find yourself getting fucked up against the wall. the two of you are still fully dressed. zayne has one of your legs hooked over his arm, and he was holding it in place while the other struggled to maintain balance. you were begging him in "pleases" and calling out to god from the sensation of his thrusts. each one deep and filling you to the brim. your standing leg was quivering, your sore bottom lip trembling but zayne doesn't hold back.

he captures your lips with another bruising kiss, can feel your grip tighten around his neck as you try to maintain your pose.

"so," he thrusts, "fucking," he thrusts, "hot."

your lashes flutter.

you're completely delirious.

for one, zayne always compliments you with tender words and rarely ever curses. but that simple sentence coming out of his mouth sounds vulgar to your ears.

the man is coming entirely undone before you.

he's not even wearing a condom. so caught off guard by your seduction that he chose to fuck you raw.

"zayne, m'gonna-oh god, I'm so close, I'm so close..." the words roll off your tongue frantically.

"then cum," he mumbles against your lips, drunk off of lust. "wanna feel you when it happens..."

your throat catches as your eyes roll to the back of your head, which falls to the wall behind you. your shaking so hard, your lower belly fluttering through the pulses of your orgasm. zayne's fingers dig into your skin roughly, and you know for a fact that you're going to wake up with bruises in the morning.

his movements grow sloppy, the sound of skin slapping skin faltering until he finally moans as he releases his load.

his heavy eyes watches focuses on pulling out of you, his chest tightening at the white releases that spills from between your petaled folds. he sighs, and drops his head to kiss your own as he carefully places your shaking leg back down. his hands firmly hold you from melting away, and the two of you pant heavily as you try to catch your breath.

[kxsagi]

Hellooo !! I am a newbie around your blog but i loved your writings so i wanted to ask for sth myself aswell. If youre uncomfy with the scenario or dont have time , you can skip this...🩵

Can i ask for a Shidou fic where the reader is a ring fighter ? We know how he tends to get violent and for the scenario , sth happens and he gets physical as always but he is in the wrong. So the reader -his gf- stops the fight and *kindly* beats him up for being too problematic when he is the one at fault. Thats how he learns about her being a fighter and then he is like "that was hot 🥵"

(I def imagine him having the exact same reaction if he ever happens to have a gf who fights well lol)

“𝐰𝐚𝐡𝐡𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐞 (𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧)”

a/n: FIRST PART OF THE TITLE IS A JOKE

also the header image is from a kdrama called "my name" REWATCHED IT TWICE CUZ THE FEMALE MC ATE SO HARD (HAN SO HEE ILY)

you knew dating shidou ryusei came with side effects. 

like the fact that you could never take him anywhere without him turning it into a wrestling match with someone who looked at him wrong. or the fact that the phrase “it wasn’t that deep” didn’t exist in his vocabulary. or how the last time you brought him to a kickboxing gym, he tried to suplex a guy because “he was breathing with attitude.” 

but this time? he really crossed the line. 

some guy had bumped into him at a food stall. didn’t even spill anything. apologized and everything. but shidou? nah. your lovely, slightly rabid boyfriend decided that was personal disrespect and squared up like it was a street fighter arcade. 

“RYUSEI!” you screamed across the crowd, pushing your way through the chaos. by the time you reached him, he had already yanked the poor dude by the collar, eyes glowing like he was auditioning for a villain role. 

“say sorry like you mean it, punk,” he growled. 

“he already did, dumbass!” you got between them, hands firm on his chest. “let go.” 

“nah babe, i’m teaching him a lesson. no one disrespects me and walks –” 

and that’s when you did it. 

a quick hook to his jaw. not too hard, just enough to snap his head to the side and drop his grip. the entire crowd gasped. shidou stumbled back, eyes wide and a slow, amused smile crawling up his face. 

“… what the hell was that?” he asked, sounding a little too delighted. 

you cracked your neck. rolled your shoulders. stepped into stance like the ring had materialized right under your feet. 

“you wanna act like a rabid animal?” you said calmly. “cool. then i’ll put you down like one.” 

he lunged, instinctively, more playful than serious, but you side-stepped, grabbed his wrist, and spun him around in a clean takedown. his back hit the pavement. hard. 

“oh fuck –” he wheezed. 

you sat on his chest, pinning him with one hand and brushing your hair back with the other. people had started recording. some were cheering. the guy he was about to punch earlier just slowly backed away into the crowd, like nope, not my circus anymore. 

“ryusei,” you said sweetly. “you done?” 

he blinked up at you. his lip was bleeding a little. there was actual sparkle in his eyes. 

“… you’re a fighter,” he whispered, stunned. 

“no shit,” you muttered. 

“you fought me.” 

“because you were being stupid.” 

“… and you won.” 

you stared at him. “are you… are you turned on right now?” 

he grinned, eyes still dazed. “babe, that was the hottest thing i’ve ever seen in my life.” 

you sighed, finally letting him go. “you’re insufferable.” 

he sat up, laughing, wiping blood from his lip like it was a souvenir. “i think i just fell in love again.” 

“you’re such a menace.” 

“no, but seriously, why didn’t you tell me you could do that?” he asked, jogging after you like a puppy as you walked away from the scene. “you took me down like it was nothing, that was so badass. do you do flips too? do you have a cool fight name? wait, do you do like, underground matches where there’s a bell and everything?” 

“ryusei –” 

“please tell me you’ll chokehold me again sometime.” 

you stopped walking. turned slowly. and in the most threateningly gentle voice possible, you whispered: 

“only if you start another fight in public again.” 

he raised both hands. “say less.” 

and that was the day shidou ryusei learned three things: 

your left hook is a warning. 

your takedown is a promise. 

he’s definitely into girls who can kick his ass. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[onlyancunin]

I think we're talking about the same thing perhaps, but from different angles then.

Armchair diagnosis refer to someone with no degree nor qualifications attempting to "diagnose", a.k.a. say they see somebody display behaviors commonly understood as part of a certain condition, in my understanding.

And this itself is not a problem, in my opinion, it's what happens after. They say that just by doing so we're throwing the people behind the diagnosis - either diagnosed by a proper professional or just assumed-diagnosed for the purpose of giving their therapy/pharmacology a direction - under the bus.

Which implies: somebody thinks Trump is NPD -> all people with NPD are like Trump. But it can happen only if there's an understanding that NPD equals being an asshole.

So my point is that saying all "armchair diagnosis" is bad because some people don't get the nuance of the diagnosis being just a part of someone, not the whole picture & explanation, is a blanket statement.

So - I don't think it's the "diagnosing" that's the problem, it's the stigmatizing of the certain conditions. Because then we also come to situation when people start thinking "he's an asshole, therefore he must be NPD".

Maybe it's too deep of looking at the thing? But I've both been accused for being "albeist" by pointing out somebody displays certain potentially diagnoseable behaviors (even if I didn't use this as an excuse) AND been vilified and have my own diagnosises thrown in my face in an attempt to invalidate my opinions or feelings. And this is all the same root problem the way I see it, which is seeing cluster B personality disorders and/or mental illnesses as invalidating, people-breaking and dangerous.

I think there's space for understanding where someone is coming from without it being an excuse, which is another thing I see happening often. An explanation is not an excuse, again, it's just a map on how to navigate certain situations.

And in case of Trump... There's even more to that. Once I've learned of his father complex he has, with his father being a successful businessman and Donald growing up in his shadow, and desperately grasping at grand projects to "prove himself" - his behavior starts making even more sense. Not because its justified, but because it can be explained. He, to this day, keeps on repeating how he does things Biden would not. He strives for acceptance of billionaires, like his father, to heal his own wound. Do I think his behavior is damaging? Absolutely. Do I think his behavior is justified? ABSOLUTELY NOT. But it is interesting to me to observe where it comes from, also for the purpose of knowing how to prevent this happening in the future.

I'd say it's part of an even bigger picture, with the male loneliness also entering the stage.

So does that maybe make it more clean?

I understand OP wants to do the "just because someobe has this mental illness doesn't mean others with the same diagnosises are like them", but people attempting to understand even the worst people in history are not the issue, and this is what their post seems to suggest.

It's the stigmatizing and flattening what the mental disorders/illnesses actually are, which works both ways. Just covering someone's mouth is fighting the symptoms, which is also important, but There's more to that.

And by the way thank you for stating rhat you're not here to attack me, and please know I'm not here to attack you either. I want to insert more perspective into this, because I've seen the "armchair diagnosis" term used as a stick to beat up everyone, no matter the context. I remember you, I know your blog and I enjoy your presence on my dash and I hope we can continue with being friendly to one another.

Which brings up another thing - do we cater to people unable to distinguish between the diagnosis and the person?

I feel like I'm about to get hit with the "its not that complicated" argument - and I can see why. But it's also not that simple and I've experienced the effects of it being oversimplified.

So no, I don't think spotting patterns of behaviors or even bringing it up is bad. But leaving it at that can be harmful, and at the very least unproductive.

And I think I said my peace with that, iI'm not here to upset anybody. I just want us to see the real root of the problem. And approach it with more empathy, than going black and white on an issue. Which again I don't mean it as my take is superior... Just explaining my reasons for chiming in.

It’s weird that we keep trying to armchair diagnose asshole behaviour with mental health labels and in doing so throw people with mental health conditions under the asshole bus when we could just call a guy an asshole and leave it at that

It just seems far more straightforward, you know

[mintyys-blog]

hai! Can you do Nicole! Or Jecka! Reader with Mark variants? From class of 09 🤭🤭‼️‼️‼️

HEADCANONS | mark variants with Nicole or Jecka! reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: smoking, swearing

Do not repost, translate, or rewrite my work (AI generated or otherwise) without my permission. @mintyys-blog

MAIN MARK

Mark never fully understood what drew him to you. Maybe it was how you laughed at things you shouldn’t. Maybe it was the way you always said what everyone else was too scared to. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because despite your dark humor and unapologetically brutal mouth, you never once lied about who you were.

You were curled on the couch in one of his hoodies, makeup smudged, eyes bored as you scrolled through your phone. “Some girl on Twitter just said you’re the reason half of Chicago is dead. She’s not wrong.”

Mark looked up from the kitchen, confused. “Are… are you okay?”

You turned slowly to him with a smirk, “I’m fine, boy scout. Why? Gonna cry if I say something mean again?”

“No,” he muttered. “You’re just—You’re a lot sometimes.”

“Good,” you replied with a wink. “Be more worried if I start acting soft. That’s how you know I’ve been kidnapped or lobotomized.”

You didn’t flirt like other girls. You insulted him and then smirked when his ears turned red. You were quick-witted, toxic as hell, and had zero interest in playing the role of doting girlfriend. But when he was injured, when he dragged himself home bloody and half-conscious, you always patched him up. You always made sure he ate. You cussed him out the whole time, but he never missed how your hands trembled while stitching him back together.

“I don’t need your help,” he said once.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, and I don’t need birth control, but here we are making bad decisions together.”

For all your venom, you never made him feel unsafe. Even when you called every man a walking red flag, even when you mocked him for getting teary during a movie—you still climbed into bed beside him every night. You were fire. And sometimes he burned, but God, he couldn’t stop coming back.

SINISTER MARK

Sinister Mark was used to liars, manipulators, and people who smiled sweetly before stabbing him in the back. But you? You were different.

You never hid what you were.

You called yourself a sociopath in the first ten minutes of meeting him. Made a joke about how you only cry when your dealer dies. When Mark raised an eyebrow, you just gave him a crooked grin and said, “At least I’m honest about it.”

He found you fascinating.

Not because you were evil. He’d met evil. He was evil.

No—you were comfortable with your darkness. You wore it like silk. Made it look glamorous and sharp all at once.

“Your eyes are twitching,” you said one evening, stretched across his couch in a stolen Viltrumite cloak like it was just another thrift store piece. “You thinking about murdering a planet again, or are you mad that I flirted with the bartender to get a free drink?”

He didn’t answer. He was still watching you.

“You’re so fucking creepy,” you laughed. “I like it.”

Sinister Mark wasn’t the kind of man who coddled or doted. But he let you talk. Let you unravel your venomous thoughts without flinching. Most people would’ve tried to fix you—he just let you be.

You toyed with his knives, walked barefoot around blood-soaked floors, and made ruthless jokes at the worst possible times. And when he called you out on it?

“You think I care about moral high grounds? Babe, I’m dating a guy who vaporized a school bus.”

The truth was—he trusted you.

You didn’t have morals, but you had rules. You never lied to him. You never betrayed him. You treated him like a weapon to be admired, not feared. And for someone who was used to being a monster under the bed?

That kind of devotion was addicting.

He didn’t say I love you. You didn’t either. But the moment you laughed while stitching him up, whispering “Don’t die, asshole, you owe me dinner”—he realized he wouldn’t let anyone else have you.

Ever.

MOHAWK MARK

Mark was the emperor of the Viltrumite Empire now—but none of that meant anything to her. She sat on the throne’s armrest in ripped tights, a wrinkled band tee of MSI barely hanging off her shoulder, and a cigarette between her fingers. He didn’t like the smell, but he let her have it. She was one of the only things that still made him feel anything other than rage.

“Shouldn’t you be interrogating someone or vaporizing a planet?” she asked lazily, her pupils slightly blown from whatever she’d taken an hour ago. “I’m bored.”

Mark’s fingers tightened on the armrest, but not from anger. It was restraint. Every time she looked at him with those indifferent eyes, that tired smirk—it reminded him that she wasn’t afraid of him. Not really. And he liked it. Needed it.

“Maybe I wanted to see you instead.”

“Ew,” she snorted. “Cringe.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling her effortlessly onto his lap. She didn’t resist, just exhaled smoke toward the ceiling, still smirking.

“You’re gonna ruin your lungs.”

“And you’re gonna ruin the galaxy. Guess we’re both problematic.”

He chuckled under his breath, running a hand along her bare thigh. “You didn’t answer my message last night.”

“I was busy,” she lied, easily. “Nicole had another freak-out over some dude trying to text her ‘good morning.’ We had to spiritually hex him.”

“Nicole’s psychotic.”

Y/N turned to look at him. “And you’re not?”

Touché.

He didn’t bother arguing. Instead, he kissed her—tasting smoke, lipstick, and the chemical tinge of something that probably wasn’t legal on Earth anymore.

She leaned back with a lazy smile, one hand curling behind his neck. “You gonna marry me or what, Emperor?”

He blinked. “Was that a proposal?”

She popped a pill from a little case in her bra, swallowed it dry, and shrugged. “Nah. Just gauging your reaction.”

He laughed. “I hate you.”

“Love you too, baby.” And somehow, she meant it. In her own messy, numbed-out way.

VILTRUMITE MARK

The silence in the room wasn’t peaceful. It was loud. Thick with tension.

Mark stood across from you, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed in suspicion—or maybe frustration. You couldn’t tell. You were too busy lighting a cigarette, one leg casually crossed over the other as you sat on the countertop in his home. Your home now, apparently. Not that you gave a shit.

“Can you not do that in here?” he said tightly, waving his hand at the smoke cloud.

You took a long drag anyway. “And you can punch a guy’s face off, but my Marlboro Light is the problem?”

“You’re going to destroy your body.”

You snorted. “Bit late for lectures, Daddy Warblood. We passed destruction like four exits ago.”

Mark moved closer. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

You flicked ash into a glass. “So am I. You didn’t fall in love with a nun. You picked me.” You tilted your head, smirking with venom. “Unless you’re regretting that.”

Mark glared. “You know I’m not.”

“Then what’s the issue?” you said, hopping off the counter, leaning into his space like you weren’t talking to a genetically perfect super predator. “That I talk shit? That I don’t simper and coo like your little Earth girls? That I know how to make a grown man cry and piss himself in one sentence?”

He didn’t move when you pressed a finger against his chest.

“I’m not soft. I’m not sweet. I’m not your dead mom’s idea of a wife. But I’m real.”

Mark stared at you. You could see it behind his expression—he didn’t always understand you. Hell, he probably didn’t even trust you fully. But you weren’t here to be trusted.

You were here to be feared. Loved. Broken maybe, but beautifully so.

And for all your filth, your cruelty, your manipulation—he never raised a hand to you. Never hurt you. Because some twisted part of him liked it. Liked you.

“You’re reckless,” he finally muttered.

You grinned. “And you’re into it.”

He kissed you then, harsh and possessive, like he was trying to shut you up with his mouth.

Didn’t work. But it was a good start.

OMNI MARK

Omni Mark didn’t understand her.

Not in the way most people claimed to “not get girls”—no. He was a being that had lived centuries, had studied humans, ruled them, ended them. And yet… Y/N—dressed in a pleated skirt, MSI blaring from the busted speaker in the corner, cigarette tucked between her fingers like it belonged there—was a complete enigma.

“You’re smoking again,” he muttered, voice low and unimpressed, standing in the doorway with his arms folded.

Y/N exhaled slowly, then lazily glanced over her shoulder. “And you’re breathing again. Guess we both have addictions, huh?”

She grinned as he stepped forward.

“You’re going to destroy your lungs,” he said, tone flat.

She looked up at him from the couch, her makeup a little smudged from the night before, a pill bottle sitting open beside her. “I mean, if the warlord I’m screwing isn’t killing me, I gotta get creative.”

“You call that creativity?” he shot back dryly, eyeing the mix of medications and the ashtray.

But she just patted the seat beside her. “You knew what you were getting into, Viltrumite Daddy.”

He ignored the nickname. Always did.

Omni Mark never said much about her habits—he’d erase her stash, toss the pills, demand she eat instead of pop a bar—but never yell. He wasn’t a yeller. He was worse—controlled. Cold. And yet, there was a strange protectiveness in the way he watched her—especially when she slept, or when she mumbled his name during a bad trip.

“Sit,” she said more softly this time. “I’ll switch to edibles or whatever if it’ll make you stop hovering.”

He sat beside her, one hand resting on her thigh—not possessive, just grounding.

“You are… volatile,” he muttered.

“Mm. So are nukes,” she replied, nuzzling into his side. “But people worship those too.”

He glanced down at her—eyeliner smudged, fingers trembling slightly from the high, and a playlist of angry electropunk pouring from her phone—and said nothing.

But he didn’t leave. He never did.

NO GOGGLES MARK

There was blood on the floor again.

Not yours. Not his.

Just another idiot who thought they could mouth off to you in front of him.

You were wiping a smear off your cheek with the back of your hand, smirking as you stepped over the crumpled body. The twitching was slowing down. Good. You hated when they made noise for too long.

“You didn’t even let me finish my sentence,” you huffed, glancing over your shoulder at him.

Mark was leaning against the doorframe, hands still bloodied, his expression unreadable under the splatter. His lips twitched, like he might smile—but with him, who could tell?

“You said you wanted a quiet night,” he said flatly. “So I shut him up.”

You clicked your tongue, flicking a piece of brain matter off your boot. “I meant dinner and maybe fucking on the couch while something burns in the oven. Not murder in the goddamn foyer.”

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, looking down at you like a predator sizing up something just as sharp. Just as dangerous.

“But you liked it,” he murmured, his voice deep and calm. “Don’t lie to me.”

You met his stare. Didn’t blink. “I loved it.”

And it was true.

You weren’t like his other versions of Y/N. You didn’t gasp when he tore someone apart. You didn’t flinch at the violence or beg him to stop. You egged him on. You lit the match. Sometimes you handed him the knife.

And when you did it yourself? He watched. Intrigued. Turned on.

The two of you weren’t in love. Not really.

It was something darker. Something fucked up. A deep need to hurt and be hurt. To own each other in a way that was just shy of ruin.

“You ever get bored of this,” you whispered, pulling his shirt by the collar and pressing against him, “you better kill me. Because I’m not letting you go.”

He stared at you.

Then laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

for some reason I found it really hard to write both Nicole’s and Jeckas personalities— so they aren’t the most accurate.

[judesmoonbeauty]

SurpriseBag 2025: Dress Up With the Cunning Mobster Doll Story- Jude Jazza's Story

Fan translation only. Accuracy not 100%. Please expect grammatical errors. Creative liberties are taken. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

Jude turned into stuffed doll.

This pleased me IMMENSELY because—

(This is my chance to get revenge...!)

While being bullied and teased, I received his love differently from others, but I’ve always wanted to get back at him somehow.

Jude: Gotta real sinister look on yer face, whadda ya up to?

Kate: Heeheehee……I just think you look adorable, Jude.

Jude: What’s with the shady laugh?

Kate: Don’t criticize the way people laugh.

His expression couldn’t change, but when I picked Jude up, I knew he was looking at me suspiciously.

Kate: Jude. When I was a kid, I loved tying ribbons to my stuffed toys.

He was lowered onto the edge of the desk, looked up at me and made a low voice.

Jude: Oy, wait.

I took a small box from the shelf and opened it.

The box contained colorful ribbons. I picked up a few and showed them to him with a bright smile.

Kate: Which do you like?

He made hoarse noise as he stood up and tried to step back.

Jude:…..Dont’cha dare.

But he stopped when he realized the position he was in.

I smiled even more when I saw Jude standing on the edge of the desk, where he would fall if he took just one step.

Kate: Maybe this deep purple ribbon? Ah, this one is nice too!

Jude: Yer the worst.

Kate: It's nothing compared to what you usually do to me.

Jude: Hmph, yer the one who enjoys bein’ bullied.

Kate: Well, let’s table that for now…..

Jude: Let’s not.

I clear my throat and pick up the deep purple ribbon.

Kate: It’s not a big deal, it’s just a little ribbon.

Jude: Ya can’t be serious— Oy!

Catching Jude as he tries to escape, I place the ribbon around the back of his head, bring up both ends at the top of his head and tie them off—

(Oh, soooo cute��!)

The Jude doll is now complete with a ribbon tied on him.

Jude: ……This's the worst.

He looked so cute just sitting there while looking the other way, that I had to use both hands to cover my grinning.

Jude: Satisfied now? Lemme down.

Kate: Oh, I want to tie this frilly ribbon around your neck too.

The moment I picked up the pretty, white frilly ribbon, Jude stood up and lost his balance.

Kate: Be careful!

I quickly picked him up so he wouldn’t get hurt, but he was flailing around in my lap.

Jude: Are ya kiddin’ me, why do I gotta wear some frilly arse ribbons?

Kate: Please don’t move so much, it’s dangerous.

Jude resisted with all his might, refusing to wear the frilly ribbon, so I held him down.

That’s when—

Kate: Waah!

Suddenly, smoke billows in front of me and my lap becomes heavy.

After blinking several times, my vision finally cleared and I met Jude's eyes.

Jude: Huh…..?

Kate: Y-you changed back already?

Jude open and closed his hand several times to confirm that he really changed back, and the sighed haggardly.

Jude: ‘Twas down right awful….Don’t ever wanna go through that again.

Jude: The hell’s with turnin’ into a stuffed toy. Betcha that quack doc mixed dodgy stuff into our food again.

Jude: Thanks to that, I went through a right mess. Should go ‘n give him a good kick fer it.

Jude got up from straddling my lap, and started grumbling about Roger again—

Kate: Ppfff-

Jude: Hm?

I couldn't help but laugh because on Jude’s head….

Kate: Jude, you're wearing a cute ribbon.……

The purple ribbon he was wearing as a stuffed toy was still tied on top of his head.

The long ribbon fits perfectly now that he’s back to its normal size, with a beautiful bow sitting on top his head.

Jude: …….

I clutch my stomach, unable to handle this unusual sight of Jude.

Without altering his expression, he untied the ribbon—

Jude: Princess, hold up yer hands.

Kate: ? Sure.

I did as I was told and stuck them out, and in a flash my hands were bound tightly together with the ribbon.

Kate: Ah.

Jude: Real good job ya did earlier.

Kate: Well, uhhh~…..

He looked down at me with a crooked smile, and when I averted my gaze, he instantly carried me away….

Kate: WOAH!!

Jude: I’ll turn ya into a dress-up doll too, but…..

I was surprised when he threw me on the bed, and he immediately hovered over me—

Jude: ‘Fore that, we gotta strip off all yer clothes, yeah?

It didn't end with just taking off my clothes, I was tormented more severely than usual.

And I decided that if he ever turned into a stuffed doll again, I would definitely dress him up in frilly clothes.

[Story Set Master List]

T/L note: I know, I could’ve used the word “plushie”, but that didn’t exist in their time period, so I didn’t. And I'm sorry for the bows, but I couldn't resist putting them on him either when they were missing from his sprite.

Tag List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @yuoi-the-magnificent @husbandosandladders @nawlink @justgiulia @vickietickie @greedyqueensfavourite @sharigax @belphiesleftpinkytoe @reimy1164 @barellorkilaam @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @goustmilk @kraiyne @midnightsrunaway

If you're +18 YO and wish to be added to my tag list, please feel free to comment below or DM me.

[silens-oro]

Trespassing (Well Enough Alone Companion Piece 2.5)

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

General Synopsis: Hawk and J have a brief heart to heart after he's placed in Smurfs home. Word Count: 721 Content Warning: typical Animal Kingdom warnings AN: this isn't the companion piece I intended to post this week, and it is more of a drabble than anything, but it was burning a hole in my drafts and needed to be posted. enjoy~ please comment & reblog :)

“Walk me to my car, J,” Hawk held Smurf’s smug attention for a solid five seconds, completely ignoring Pope’s piercing eyes next to her, and walked through the house with J trailing behind her. Once they made it outside to the driveway, without listening ears surrounding them, Hawk turned and pulled J into a crushing hug. His arms immediately wrapped around her shoulders and his heart broke when he felt her unsteady breathing.

“Don’t cry. Please don’t-” He tried to soften the blow. Hawk was the strongest person he knew so to see her facade start to crumble? It was foreign territory for J. 

“I’m so sorry, J.” Hawk pulled away, wiping under her eyes. “This is the last place I would ever want you to be.”

“They know you. This whole time you’ve known them.” J didn’t want to sound accusatory, but the way they spoke down to and about Hawk as if she wasn’t in the same room as them made anger simmer under his skin. The way they spoke about Julia before Hawk showed up with Pope was even worse -it was dismissive, like his mom was just a fleeting thought lost to the wind. 

J remembered seeing their faces over the years when he was at Hawk’s shop or at home. She was always irritated when they made their unannounced arrivals, and she always sent him to another room or her office when they showed up. Neither side ever put the pieces together until the day J moved into Smurf’s home. 

J wasn’t angry with her -he couldn’t be. Hawk didn’t have a single nefarious bone in her body and everything she did, she did with purpose. That’s how she raised him. He knew everything she did was to protect him from these people and now that he knew the other side of things she was dealing with, he swore to himself that he’d do everything he could to return the favor.

“Most of my life, yeah. That’s why I’ve shielded you for as long as I could. Everything and everyone that comes in and out of that house turns to rot, J. They never had a chance, but you have a future -one that you’ve worked so incredibly hard for. Do not let them poison you. I can’t…” Hawk took a deep breath, eyes trailing behind J to the big bay window in front of the house. Pope was watching with pinched brows and a firm frown. “There isn’t much I can do other than tell you our house is still our house, J. Yours and mine. That will always be ours. I don’t give a shit what Smurf has to say, and will say. I will always be in your corner, do you understand me?” J nodded and let Hawk pull him into another hug. “I mean it, J. If anything happens you call me. You get to the house. You do whatever you need to. I don’t care what time of day or night it is.” She whispered into his ear. Hawk pulled back and gently held J’s face in her hands.

“I don’t want to be here.” He whispered back. “And I don’t want that psycho in the house with you. Has he treated you alright?”

“I know. I don’t want you here either, but this is what’s been dealt. Don’t rock the boat, alright? Those assholes are volatile on their best days and you’re fresh meat to them. All they’re looking for is to see what you’ll tolerate. Nip it in the bud quickly and things should settle down relatively soon. Just don’t…don’t let them talk you into doing anything stupid. I’m stressed enough without you home as it is.” 

“And Pope?” Hawk’s eyes went back to the window where Pope was still watching them, then shifted them back to J.

“I can handle Pope. Don’t worry about me, okay? I know these people like the back of my hand.”

“J, sweetheart,” Smurf called from the front door. He turned to look at her and Hawk dropped her arms to her sides. “Come inside, baby. We’re about to have lunch.” Smurf’s eyes were pinpointed on Hawk and she felt their immediate effect -you’re trespassing. 

“Remember what I said, J.” He turned back to Hawk, his hazel eyes full of uncertainty as he nodded and started walking back to Smurf. 

please comment & reblog :)

[gaza-giving-tree]

Can confirm a lot of these are NOT bots, actually. 🙃

A lot of these accounts are real people, going through the worst nightmare of their lives, trying to get help any way they can, with the limited tools they have at their disposal.

Unfortunately there are SOME people who are stealing the information and photos from some Gaza blogs to scam others, but the scam blogs are usually easy to spot; they tend to have a just a PayPal link instead of a fundraiser link (though there have been a couple exceptions to this that I've seen).

Platforms like GoFundMe and Chuffed protect your donations for up to a year, and literally investigate fraudulent activity. That's why you'll see scammers using PayPal instead.

A lot of actual people do copy/paste the same message because they have limited time/phone battery/internet connection and are trying to find as much help for their families as they possibly can. Mutual Aid blogs like @gazavetters are trying their best to tell people to not do this, to cut down on this type of posting and messaging.

They are trapped in a war zone, many with no source of income available because infrastructure in Gaza has been almost completely decimated. A lot of people are literally surviving off their fundraisers right now, because they have no other source of income and there are no jobs around in a place that has been heavily bombed and destroyed. But they still have to pay astronomical amounts for food and medical bills (and even rent, in some cases)! Which is why they're asking for money.

That's why I started this page: to help promote people who have been vetted by others within the mutual aid community on this site. I talk to them, document their realities, try to present as much factual information about them as I can, so these people can hopefully get help, not be met with skepticism or vitriol from others.

Can you really blame them for getting frustrated, after being ignored for months on end by the majority of people they reach out to?

Also, I get so many messages a day from these blogs. Not once have I gotten anyone threatening to kill themselves or others over not receiving help. I HAVE gotten messages saying they will most likely die without help, though! Which is, unfortunately, the reality a lot of people in Gaza are living in. It's NOT self-inflicted; they're being relentlessly bombed and starved, and aid from charities is difficult for them to even receive because a lot of aid is not even being ALLOWED into the area right now.

Imagine being trapped in the worst nightmare of your life, trying to do your best to survive, and people say you're a scam artist for reaching out for help.

Take a look at my blog; you'll find a lot of REAL people here! One family I've written about is so real they ended up on Al-Jazeera TWICE. That's pretty difficult to fake! You can see the articles I've written for them, [HERE] and [HERE]. 🙃

Also, blogs like @gazavetters are NOT bots. They actually talk to these people, look at their legal documents, verify their identities, then add the vetted people to a list, which they maintain and adjust as needed.

Like yes, use your brain and investigate before you give anyone your money. That's common sense.

But please don't go around spreading misinformation because starving people living in a war zone, asking for help, makes you uncomfortable.

You can choose to look away. They can't escape the reality they're being forced to live in.

I guess here’s your daily reminder that it’s okay to block and report gaza scam bots. yeah, those annoying ones in your DMs and inbox with the same copy paste story and formatting starting with “hello dear” or “hello beautiful soul”. those annoying ones that are now threatening to kill themselves and their children unless you post their asks and donate $20 to them. yeah, those ones are scammers guilt tripping you and profiting off of your kindness and real Palestinians who are being killed babes.

(and if you can, donate directly to organizations you know and trust, but that’s not some bots pretending to vet other bots on tumblr dot com)

[jazeswhbhaven]

Back in the fandom again and I was looking for your blog everywhere 😿 You were probably the most memorable writer to me about WHB lol. I really adore your works 🥹...

Is it okay if I ask a request? Maybe for the kings and some nobles from Gehenna!!

How about an MC that gets easily annoyed especially if it's painfully hot outside and the sun is just literally GLARINGGG towards them.

Not annoyed as in full on screaming. But annoyed in a way it's so easy to rile them up and get their brows all furrowed up and they're like "what????"

It's more on the humorous side hehe, I think it's funny and I maybe want their reactions to lean more onto that side, but still keep their usual errr behavior or personality??

Thank you!!!

Ahh hi anon, I'm glad you were able to find my blog again!! This means a lot saying that you like my works ✨😌

I'll do all the nobles from Gehenna btw, just because ^^ I don't talk about them enough so I just feel like I should

It's the hottest day in Gehenna, so much that even finding shelter in the shade still has you sweating up a storm. Thankfully it's just for a few days out of the year, but MC is not having it at all. "God it's so hot....I'm literally melting..."

Sitri: He's quick on his feet thinking about how to cool off MC. He's aware that the shade will only bring some relief but it's never enough. Thankfully, he's brought along some freshly made iced tea, made with a special ingredient that keeps you cool and refreshed for hours! Other devils have tried to take some, but he refuses to share. This was made for MC, everyone else will have to find other ways to cool off.

Ppyong: Oh no! MC is uncomfortable and this red lump is far too small to provide shade or any source of relief. But he does know of a place where they can hang out for a while without being directly under the sun's rays. A cafe ran by most of his red lump fans and family, small but quaint! Refreshing drinks, the coolest AC they managed to make with small parts and debris collected from previous battles they had to clean up. He always wanted to take MC here, and boy do they appreciate it.

Leraye: He offers to shoot the sun down, he's pretty sure he can do it. There's no target he can't hit! But after MC talks him out of even trying so he doesn't burn his eyes out, they opt for returning back to the palace where Leraye knows of a specific secret area he usually sets up his sniping gear during battles that has the perfect amount of shade and where the breeze hits just right. Plus...he managed to get some of Sitri's iced tea to give MC anyway lol

Paimon: Oh he hates the heat as much as MC does. Sweat slows him down and melts his pretty eye makeup! But have no fear, he's always prepared when it comes to the hottest days of Geheena. Cute sun hats, portable bladeless fans from Tartaros, and a special human skin friendly sunscreen that makes it feel like there's no sun at all! He's so proud to show off these trendy objects he got from the mall and is even more happy that they work well. Not to mention he wants MC to try out his minty lip gloss, *wink*

Astaroth: This weather is actually perfect for his snake so he's not too bothered by it. Nice and warm. However, he's aware that MC's annoyance with the heat and sun can't be too healthy. To compromise for both parties, he does have this magic parasol for MC to use. If you say the right poem/mantra it will literally start snowing underneath it. MC finds this parasol odd, but at least it's working! Astaroth was also amused, saying he had gotten it from a witch because she told him it would always keep his snake warm even when it's cold. Turns out it was the opposite.

Zagan: The sun always looks flawless on this devil's sun kissed skin, so a few more rays and heat won't do a thing. However, he'd do anything make sure MC is comfortable, so he writes up a special talisman they can use that works like an all over body ice pack. He's even brought a whole stack of them just in case the one MC has on right now gets damaged. And so they don't feel left out, he wears one too. Now they can enjoy their morning walk together without much discomfort! A bonus is that Zagan tied his hair up for this occasion.

Satan: "You're pissed off? So am I...it's too damn hot!" Satan actually does not like the heat at all, especially when he has to move around and do things. It's not really the sweat, but it's more so the combination of sun rays AND the radiating heat from the ground. Plus he can't stand the jokes Mammon makes about how it shouldn't bother him since heat rises and he's further to the ground than he is 💀 So, to make it bearable for him and MC he just literally takes them around on his bike so the wind cools them off from how fast he's going. He also doesn't mind spending all day at his bike shop, the AC there is really nice.

Mammon: "Come closer to me, Master. I'll block the sun's rays for you." And no kidding does that actually help! MC is immediately shrouded in Mammon's shadow which provides quick relief from the glaring sun in Tartaros. And if that wasn't a plus already, his Ai bots fly around and spray a cool mist, similar to how you see the mist stations at Zoos during the summer. The sun is no bother for this big guy, all it does is glisten against his golden skin as he soaks it up. He could do this all day.

Beelzebub: "You know, I don't mind that you're all sweaty..." Beel ofcourse is a tease when MC is rather upset about how hot it is. Not to mention that Abyssos is mostly a concrete jungle, so the pavement is hot too. But, he's not gonna torture MC for long, offering solace by whisking them away to the grasslands of Abyssos. There's trees for miles, amazing shade, and a few lakes with water so cold you'd think it should be frozen. These are places he escapes too when he does return, and now MC knows he little hideouts. Just gotta make sure Bael doesn't know about this.

Leviathan: "If you're that uncomfortable at least do something about it." Leviathan considers MC's mild complaint about the heat slightly annoying, but they do have a point. Why is it so hot today in Hades when normally the sun doesn't shine much here? Levi opts to take MC back to the palace, where his room is the coldest compared to everywhere else. He doesn't even mind if they stay in there all day because he didn't want to be outside in the first place and he has paperwork to look over. Levi even goes so far that he's moved his desk temporarily so he can MC can be in the same room. But don't mention that...

Lucifer: "Ah, the greenhouse is normally not this warm. Here drink this." Similar to Sitri's iced tea recipe, Lucifer has his own brew that provides not only instant relief from the heat and sun, but prevents migraines, and heat exhaustion for at least 24 hours. He created this one time when Gamigin passed out from traveling the desserts of Tartaros to heal a devil. He also has changed a few things around to make sure MC doesn't ingest anything they're allergic to. But being the doctor he is, he sticks around MC just to make sure nothing happens at least until it's safe for them to be alone.

Belphegor: "Quit yer bellyachin', ain't nothin' but a little heat and sun." Well, at least for him anyway the heat has no affect on him. He could sleep through an entire damn fire if he must. But he's immediate solution to keep MC cool is to drag them to his room, turn on the AC to the lowest setting, and it's freezing cold now. The only source of heat in the room is his body and his bed. Could this have been his plan all along? Either way now MC doesn't have to be in the sun, and Belphie gets to sleep in a cold dark room. Everyone wins.

Asmodeus: "The sun highlights the best parts of you, my dear. Oh and how you look with sweat rolling off your body..." Asmo is definitely no help when the heat is unbearable in Abaddon. For some odd reason it is unusually hot though most areas in this country are shaded or cloudy. But also, MC's annoyance is a turn on for this devil in fact anything they do is, but it's not like he's going to let them suffer for too long. He knows a place, deep within the castle walls on the top floor. Nope, not his room, but another place he seldom tells others about. To MC's surprise it's filled with everything meant to cool you down during those hot summers on earth, including an indoor pool chilled to perfection. For now Asmo enjoys the amenities with MC no strings attached, but eventually...skinny dipping in said pool was gonna be on the agenda.

[saphig-iawn]

My introductory sessions are made in such a way that they exist on their own without anything that will get their hooks into someone. So many inductions I've listened to try and thread this addiction or irresistance to bring people back. Why don't I do that? Because its safer. I want people to know that they can have an experience with me and be safe.

After an introductory session, the first thing I do is talk to the client about safety, and what I'm going to do to help them become resilient and practice hypnosis safely. If they come back after a while, I reinforce those safeties again. Why? Because there are people out there who are hoping to use hypnosis for their own gains and prey on people.

I was subject to one of those people yesterday.

I had someone try and covertly hypnotise me in the comments of my own post. I spotted them. I knew exactly what he was doing. His language, his cadence, his pattern. He tried to turn my own words against me initially, trying to turn the tables on me. I rebuffed him, but then his 'apology' was written in the same attempt to persuade, to soften, and to influence.

I changed my tack, no longer talking about the content of my writing, but targeting why he felt the need to apologise. He persisted in his character, acting like some Dickensian villain using long words and run-on sentences to confuse his prey. Then it hit.

I felt helpless.

I was too polite. I should've been more clear and blunt. But I thought this person might have been reasonable. I realised that, no matter what I said, he already had his sights set on me.

No matter what I said, he would continue.

I am so lucky that I have friends in this community that came in and called him out and shot him down. He instantly broke character, and called his advances 'an invitation'. Called them paranoid for 'believing someone could be tranced like that'.

I felt sick.

They trawled his blog. He believes that if being hypnotised is consent, that no other kind of consent needs to be sought because if someone didn’t want to be hypnotised, they couldn’t be hypnotised.

I started shaking.

I was playing games with friends while all this was happening. I was masking what was happening because I was trying to have fun. But now I have time to think today, I realise that I'm not ok. I keep thinking about that moment I realised that he knew what he was doing and could not be pushed from the track his mind was set on.

Then it occured to me. What if it wasn't me, someone who has been practicing for so long and has become a resilient subject as well as 'tist? What if someone was just looking for a little bit of fun found themselves in his trap?

It is because of people like him, why I practice the safety measures I do with my subjects, and my darlings. Why I reinforce that they stop any time they want, regardless of reason. Why I tell them that they have the first and last say, even while under in trance.

Because there are predators and they do not listen.

[youhideastar]

Hello! I just needed to say that your tags on that ABO post (#maybe someday I will write that essay on how I think a/b/o starts from a fundamentally ace perspective#ie that it starts from a premise of no desire#into which desire arrives as a rare unexpected unwelcome and often traumatic deviation from the baseline) shook my brain like a magic 8 ball and I would like to subscribe to your newsletter.

I mean I guess I kind of already have since I follow your blog but like. That is genius and also I think that approach helps explain part of why I loved your ABO bingo series so much!

Anyway just wanted to say that, hope you're having an awesome day!

Aaahhhhh thank you so much! All credit to the initial poster for kicking my brain into gear on this. (For the curious, here's the series the ask mentions!)

But yes, to expand on those tags, there's so *much* about a/b/o as a genre that, to me at least, starts from an ace perspective.

For example, in most a/b/o universes where there are, in fact, betas (as opposed to another common take on omegaverse worldbuilding where there are just alphas and omegas), then the inherent starting premise of the world is that there are two kinds of people--people whose lives in large part revolve around intense, consuming, and uncontrollable sexual desire and people whose lives don't--which is to say, the inherent starting premise is that some people are (at least symbolically) ace. Indeed, in most of these fics, that's considered unremarkable in-universe... which is, from that point of view, a fantasy of a world where asexuality is commonplace and accepted. (Then again, it's rare for the main characters of such stories to be betas - it looks like a fantasy of ace acceptance, but the symbolically ace characters are relegated to the sidelines, as if a life that doesn't revolve around that kind of desire isn't worth telling stories about.)

In another example, a/b/o fics often posit a worldbuilding where the norm is that a person will only go into heat or rut (i.e., experience sexual desire) in reaction to a particular person--maybe a "fated mate"--and indeed, that the presence of sexual desire is proof of some kind of intense emotional connection between two people... which is basically just a sci-fi-ification of the experience of being demisexual. It's really that straightforward.

And that's without even getting into the ways that heat and rut often appear in fics as funhouse mirrors of what garden-variety allosexual desire looks like to people who don't experience it themselves. The original post says that "magical pheromones made them do it" sounds just as plausible to an ace person as "looking at someone in their underwear made them do it," but you don't even need the word "magical" - the idea that hormones could make you lose your head with desire and behave in ways that would embarrass you (or worse) once their influence wanes is both a sci-fi conceit for fanfic porn and actually how many, many people on this planet go through their lives on a regular basis.

What's ironic is how, despite all this, most a/b/o fic makes no room for real ace people (as opposed to symbolic aces, i.e., betas), especially sex-repulsed ace people. What are those folks supposed to do when heat strikes? Or other people who, for various reasons, might not want sex or be in a position to consent to it? I think a/b/o often teeters on the edge of body horror; in those situations, it tips right over. Most a/b/o worldbuilding does nothing to address this--and I think that's one of the great blank spaces in the genre that is ripe for exploring with all kinds of interesting fic!

[cosmicsproutcake]

Okay, I get why they changed her from a trans woman to a scammer, but I feel like they didn't have to do that. I feel like they could've kept her trans and just had us flee 'cause she was like too forward and we just panicked or something.

I miss my sexy trans lady 😢

Work bestie got me Reload haha

First impression: new opening is dog shit lmao 😂😂

[joooooniecore]

Oh no, I'm falling in love

Being in love with your best friend is the last thing you wanted in your life. Namjoon has always been your pillar in the harshest of days and no matter how much you are in love with him, you are never going to confess. You are too scared for things to go wrong.

But when that one fateful event occurs, will you be able to suppress your growing desire to be his?

✧˖* pairing: best friend!namjoon x f!reader

✧˖* w.c: 5.2k (full work)

✧˖* genre: best friend namjoon, best friends to lovers, a problematic ex(for a brief moment), fluff, smut.

✧˖* content warnings (full work): reader is really depressed, a problematic ex, some harsh words | explicit smut: body worship, praise, unprotected penetration(don’t do it guys)

THIS FIC IS FOR +18 READERS ONLY! I can't control what people read, but I can control who interacts with my blog. MINORS CAUGHT INTERACTING WILL BE BLOCKED.

The continuous stubborn urge to run away has always been there on your mind. You never stay stable as the world seems to make fun of the way you live. You have always been a people pleaser, someone who has always been there. Someone who looks strong like she can cause a storm but no one finds a way to see through the façade of how she is the one fighting a storm all alone. Being alone has done wonders to your mind. You know how to live alone even though you hate being alone.

You have always been an extroverted person but the amount of toxic relationships and messed up dates has ruined your will to do anything for the sake of love at all. You are good at it though, giving your all when you liked someone and somehow losing yourself in the process.

“You have grown distant”, was what they would say as they broke up. It was the same every time. A cheap way to get away from the depressed energy you always gave off probably.

The buzzing in your mind never stops as you type aggressively on the keyboard, jotting down schedule and timings for the new tour and brand dealings on the spreadsheet. The clattering of keys probably helps as your mind stays blank and all you can think of are putting numbers in those tiny boxes.

“You are going to break the keyboard at this rate.”, came a soft chuckle from behind you. Then a warm hand on your shoulders as the stress somehow dissipated.

“Shut up Namjoon.”, you told out loud as the clattering stopped and you turned your head to meet eyes with your best friend.

“I was just passing by and saw you murdering the keyboard.”, Namjoon said with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Not my fault that the schedule seems skeptical.”, you murmured before addressing the drink in Namjoon’s hands.

“Thanks for the drink.”, you said with a grumble as the sweet strawberry milkshake calmed your nerves down.

“You’re welcome.”, Namjoon said as he sat beside you and started toying with the small figurines displayed on your desk.

“Aren’t you extending your welcome?”, you playfully teased.

“I provide you smoothies to survive so shut up.”, Namjoon responded with the same frequency.

You both became fast friends. When you first joined this entertainment company as a manager, you were naïve. Being young among the other workers, it was tough for you to get used to your surroundings. You were also not so fluent in Korean which created a little chaos for the first few months. Namjoon was your savior. Even though he had his own responsibilities as an idol trainee and composer of a rookie group, he gave his time in teaching you Korean and also helping you get used to the surroundings.

He was your first friend in this unknown country and you both have been strong ever since. When Bangtan became famous, Namjoon was the one to ask for you as their manager in front of the board of directors and even though you were younger than most members of the group, your efficiency didn’t go to waste as you were granted that position without a single hesitation.

“Don’t you have work?”, you snickered as you sipped the drink.

“I am done for the day so decided to annoy you.”, Namjoon said with a shrug.

“Of course.”, you said with an extra sweet smile.

You started typing again as Namjoon started scrolling on his phone. After what felt like hours, Namjoon finally spoke again, “Are you going to the get-together party?”

“I don’t think so. It gets awkward there.”, you muttered under your breath.

The get-together in question is something some of the managers and idols attend. It’s a monthly thing where they get to lose their status and enjoy the evening. You like going there as you are good friends with most of the idols but recently you have been feeling a little under the weather and you are not wishing to come face to face with Youngjin, your ex who is also the manager of an idol group.

“Oh come on, Jungkook has been nagging me to bring you there.”, Namjoon said with an almost pout.

“You know how it is. I don’t want to face him.”, you said trying to sound less tired.

“I know but we all will be there. It will be fine. You have to just stay with us.”, Namjoon said with a soft smile, his hand resting on top of yours as he tried to calm you down.

You thought about it for a second, taking the possibilities in and how you would be able to enjoy the evening with good friends. Yes, you would hate to see your ex but it’s inevitable that you would meet him one day or another.

“Fine. But you are picking me up.”, you said as you glared at him.

“Yes ma’am.”, Namjoon said with a victorious smile.

As he walked out of the door, you released a sigh you didn’t know you were holding. It has been harder nowadays to hold back the feelings you have for your closest friend. You are extremely scared that this might cause a rift with the only person who feels like home to you. You have always been scared to fall in love. Always finding flaws in the other person and justifying you falling out of love because of a missing quality. But with Namjoon it was different. You have tried hard to find a flaw that would justify your urge to keep the friendship as it was but there were none. You have seen the way he treats women and it makes your heart skip a beat.

Speaking of women, Namjoon has always been the centre of attraction and that has always caused you to stay behind the scenes. He is charismatic, and handsome. He can easily get any woman he lays his eyes on and hence, it would never be you. Even though he never really dates, you have seen the way women fawn over him. You would always be his best friend. Someone who he allows to be in his life as a support. Someone who knows all his little tales at the end of the day. Someone who is there to just be a friend.

The day went by as you got busy with work. In the evening after you got dressed up, your phone rang and you were quick to pick it up only to find Jimin calling.

“Hello Jimin-ie. What’s up?”, you sweetly responded as you searched for your lipstick.

“Nothing just seeing whether you would come to the party or not.”, Jimin’s soft voice filled your ears.

“I am coming. Namjoon is forcefully picking me up from home in a few minutes.”, you flatly stated.

“Oh come on, you would actually like being forced by him.”, Jimin said with his usual teasing voice.

“Ugh shut up. I did a mistake when I told you about my crush.”, you snickered back with an eye roll.

“Get your man ____.”, Jimin said.

“He isn’t mine and he never will be.”, you chuckled bitterly but nobody has to know that.

Jimin sighed as he ended the call and you decided to finally wear your heels just when the doorbell rang. You quickly got out of your bedroom as you opened the door only to find Namjoon leaning against the opposite wall to your apartment.

“What the heck are you doing?”, you frantically screamed as you grabbed his blazer and pulled him in, not before slamming the door shut.

“Woah calm down girl. What happened?”, Namjoon said with a smirk.

“Why are you here? Where’s your driver?”, you glared at him.

“He is waiting in the car. I came to pick you up.”, Namjoon casually stated as he sat on the couch.

“Anybody could have seen you. Are you insane?”, you were still a bit shaken.

You live in a very secured society which does have a lot of famous people since your job does include being captured by cameras when you are escorting the members through the airport. Many of the fans know you by your name as they gush about how pretty and confident you are. You have no idea how they concluded that from just your pictures. You have seen the posts and hence it won’t be nice if someone decides to spread a rumor just for the sake of some sort of fame. You are scared to tarnish Namjoon’s career with your name.

“It’s a secured building.”, Namjoon flatly stated.

“Still...”, you swallowed the words as you decided to wear your heels and get your purse.

When you finally came out all ready, you saw Namjoon staring at you intently.

“What?”, you finally asked.

“You know how to clean up good manager-nim.”, Namjoon said with a silly smile.

“Shut up.”, you grumbled and hoped for Namjoon to not notice how your cheeks flushed red and your heartrate increased.

By the time you reached the party, your mind has become calmer. You were actually excited to meet your friends and were also prepared to ignore your ex.

As soon as you crossed the threshold of the door, you were pulled in by the members and few of the managers. They were laughing and giggling about something you had no idea about.

“Why are you guys laughing?”, you asked with a puzzled expression.

“Hoseok here started a bet that you would enter here pissed off because of something stupid Namjoon would have done.”, said one of the managers as you rolled your eyes.

“He is stupid. He was standing at my doorstep without a freaking mask on.”, you exasperated as your hands moved dramatically.

Everyone laughed about it and served you drinks.

“I don’t have a crush on him anymore.”, you said as you sat beside Jimin and Taehyung.

These two menaces were eating your head out. They were saying how Namjoon always looks at you from across the room and you would never believe that. It’s probably because of the fact that you are his best friend, someone he knows closely that he checks up on you once in a while.

“He doesn’t check up on you. He checks out you.”, Taehyung said with a knowing glint.

“I bet money that he would come right towards you once he sees you talking with that ex of yours.”, Jimin stated.

“But why would I talk with my ex?”, you dumbly question.

“Because he is approaching us. Bye.”, and before you knew, the known faces of Jimin and Taehyung were replaced with the dipshit face of your ex.

“Hey ____. How have you been?”, Youngjin said in his usual cocky tone.

“I am fine.”, you answered in a clipped tone.

“You look uhm amazing.”, he said as sat on the bar stool in front of you.

“Thanks I guess?”, you said nonchalantly.

“Listen, I seriously want to talk about something.”, he started to speak but you raised your hand to make him stop.

“Don’t.”, you said in a tone that meant finality.

“Oh come on, can’t we just get back together again?”, he said in a voice that made your skin crawl.

He was the one who ruined you and now has the audacity to get back with you just because he thinks you are available.

“I don’t want to.”, you said in that exact same annoyed tone.

“You aren’t dating anyways.”, he stated and that made your blood boil.

“Doesn’t mean I am available for you.”, you snickered back.

“Nobody would date you anyways, I am giving you a chance.”, he said in such an unbothered manner that it made you gasp. Your face turned red as your eyes teared up.

Just when you were going to walk away, there was a warm presence behind your back. An arm crawling up around your waist and you were damned because you knew whose hand it was.

“Is there some kind of problem?”, Namjoon’s deep voice vibrated against your back. He was pressed against you as warmth seeped through the flimsy dress of yours.

“Uh no- no sir.”, you saw Youngjin crumble down.

“Then you might go away because you are making her uncomfortable.”, Namjoon said in such a demanding voice that it made your knees weak. He was mad and you could feel it by the way his fingers tightened against the dip of your waist, pressing the skin which send delicious shivers down your spine.

“Are you two-?”, Youngjin dumbly asked and as you were going to deny the fact, Namjoon spoke.

“And what if we were? What are you gonna do about it?”, he mocked as Youngjin could only ramble something incoherent as he scurried away.

The palm against your skin vanished and you almost missed it. That’s when it hit you – ‘oh no I am falling in love again’

Namjoon twirled the bar stool around till you were facing him or more precisely his chest. You craned your neck up to look at his face and you could see the way he was grinding his molars. He was mad as his chin puckered out which only happens when he is either concentrated or extremely mad.

“It’s okay Namjoon. He is gone.”, you said with a soft smile as you ran your hands across the length of his arm in a friendly pat.

You saw the way he melted when you touched him and that almost made you believe that he had the same feelings towards you. His eyes softened as he looked at you as if trying to find a way to ease your pain, to make it up to you.

“You should have walked away.”, he finally said, his voice barely a whisper.

“I wanted to see how low he can get.”, you said with a sad smile.

“I don’t like when someone ruins your mood.”, he said as he sat down on the stool.

“It’s okay. I am fine.”, you tried to calm him down.

“He has no right to do that. How can he think that he can talk like this to someone as pretty as you?”, he stated with a stern gaze.

“You think I am pretty?”, you asked as you wiggled your eyebrows to make him laugh or cringe.

“Yes. You are.”, he stated instead as he tried to find answers in your eyes.

You gasped as your eyes widened but before you could say something, his hands reached yours as he played with your fingers. His eyes fixed on the way your fingers molded with his. Then he trailed an invisible line from the tip of your nails to the dip of your lips.

“So pretty.”, he whispered as if it wasn’t meant for you to be heard.

“Namjoon I –”, you were going to stop him or do something to stop the sensations that were happening in your body.

“You have no idea how I look at you.”, Namjoon spoke again as your breath hitched.

It might have been an insane thought but you wanted to know more. You were bathing in the way his eyes travelled to every inch of your exposed skin.

“And how do you look at me?”, you asked softly as if trying to keep it a secret.

“Like I want to make you mine.”, Namjoon said as his eyes met yours with a stern gaze. He was looking at you as if trying to see the way you would react. The way you would blush or push him way. The way you would kiss him or simply slip out of his fingers.

“Then do it. Make me yours.”, you said and that was it for Namjoon.

He got up so quickly as if his pants were on fire. He tightly held your hand as he passed through the crowded room not before informing his members that he is going home quickly. They shared a knowing glance as Jimin winked at you which made you blush.

And soon you were out of the messy crowded room and into the cool spring night. The soft wind made your blazing skin a little calm as Namjoon called for his driver to pick him up.

The palm of his hands again found their home on the dip of your waist as he pulled your back towards his wide chest. Your skin flushed against his as he dipped his head low just to gently kiss the curve of your neck – where your neck meets your shoulder. The sleeveless dress was doing nothing to stop the sensation that his lips left on your skin.

The car stopped right in front of you as Namjoon opened the door to usher you in.

“Drive to my house.”, he directed the driver before his entire attention was on you again.

“Are you feeling fine?”, he softly asked you.

“Yes.”, you whispered back.

“Are you drunk, love?”, he gently asked.

“No. Just sipped a little wine.”, you answered truthfully.

“Good. Because I need you to remember how I make you mine.”, Namjoon firmly stated against the cavity of your ears. The warm breath fanning against your neck which caused shivers down your spine.

The ride to his place felt like it was taking too long. The quietness of the night as the big buildings passed by and the street shops shined even though it was past midnight. As soon as the car drove through the gate of the society, Namjoon’s grip on your thigh tightened. He got out of the car and helped you out before thanking the driver and wishing him a goodnight.

Almost as if he was afraid you might vanish, he pulled you in the building and towards the lift. His hands trying to hold onto you as you softly smiled.

“I am not running away.”, you teased.

“I know but I am not taking chances.”, Namjoon smirked as he dipped his head to place a chaste kiss on the top of your head.

The lift chimed signaling the floor number as you both got out and slowly walked past the hallway and into his apartment. You have visited his place a million times. Mostly to discuss tour schedules and sometimes to enjoy a good drink and some movies. You both have always maintained the friendly boundary as you always tried to suppress the overflow of feelings whenever his knees grazed against yours as you both sat on the floor and laughed.

The room somehow felt smaller today as Namjoon allowed you to walk in first before he followed and shut the door behind him. You slowly got out of your heels, a relief washing over your face as you tentatively walked towards the welcoming couch.

The soft plush cushion dipping down with your weight as you sat on it. Your dress rose up a little as the fabric was doing nothing to hide the expanse of your legs. Namjoon’s eyes never left you as he took you in; seated on his couch in his home. He was feeling extremely nervous as he walked towards you before kneeling in front of you on the carpeted area.

“You are so beautiful, fuck.”, Namjoon’s voice seemed strained as if he was trying to control himself.

You blushed under the heated gaze as he grazed his hands over your exposed legs. He was groping and massaging your skin as you held onto his shoulders.

“You are so pretty, I could die.”, he muttered under his breath before spreading your legs gently as if asking for permission.

You gladly listened to his commanding hands as you spread your legs wider, giving him access to your red lacy panties.

“Fuck. I will crumble down here itself.”, Namjoon huskily stated as he grazed a finger against the hem of the lace.

“N-Namjoon...”, you whimpered as you desperately wanted him to touch you.

“What do you want my darling?”, he asked, his eyes again finding yours with so much more lust.

“I want you, Namjoon. Please.”, you moaned as he finally grazed his fingers against your core. His knuckles deliciously grinding against the soft fabric that separated your skin from his.

“So pretty and perfect for me.”, he said as he got up and lifted you up as you squeaked a little. He walked towards the bedroom with such fast steps that you almost fell like giggling.

The room was dimly lit as Namjoon threw you on the soft bed. Your back against the plush pillows as he hovered over you like a thirsty man.

“I have always wanted you here, right here under me.”, Namjoon stated as he dived in and trailed kisses down your neck and chest.

“You have me now, what are gonna do about it?”, you said with a hint of tease, trying to make him lose control.

“I will devour you love.”, he said before flipping you on your stomach easily and unzipping the dress. He yanked it away from your body and threw it somewhere on the floor before flipping you again over as you were facing him in your naked state.

The red lingerie set gleamed against your tan skin. The lace making your body glimmer with a newfound beauty under the dim light from the night lamp. Namjoon groaned before kissing and sucking your skin, trying to memorize every inch of your existence.

“You are all mine.”, he said as he trailed his tongue down your belly button and stopped just above the fabric covering your core.

“Please Namjoon.”, you whispered.

“Please what?”, Namjoon challenged.

“Take it off. Goddamit!”, you almost whimpered and that was his cue as he grazed his teeth a little on the skin before biting the corner of your panties and peeling it down inch by inch only with the help of his teeth.

The scene made you roll your eyes as you couldn’t imagine how aroused your felt. Namjoon was a piece of art and the way his dragon eyes never left your face for a single second when he opened your panties did things to you that you were embarrassed to admit.

He grazed his fingers against your wet core which elicited a deep guttural moan from your throat.

“You like the way I make you feel, right?”, Namjoon’s deep voice rumbled as all you could do was nod.

He finally unclasped your bra as you laid naked on his bed, in his sheets all glowing from the arousal as he breathed heavily.

“I would die if you don’t make me cum.”, you finally said and all you received was a smirk and his tongue twisting against your core.

The sensation caused a dramatic effect on your body. Your hips grinding as if they have a mind of their own. Namjoon used his one hand to hold you down while his other hand was used to rub your clit in a slow agonizing pace.

“Fuck Namjoon...”, you whimpered as your hole clenched around his tongue.

He inserted two fingers in, finally making you lose your mind as you moaned loudly before biting your own lips to stop the obstinate sounds that were coming out of your mouth.

“Don’t fucking do that.”, Namjoon almost growled as he removed your lips from under your teeth.

“I want this entire floor to know who is making you feel so good.”, he smirked as he dived in again and ate you out like a man who has been starving.

You felt it then. The onset of euphoria as your body rumbled and your knees went weak. Your breath increased as you moaned loudly his name before falling apart against his fingers and tongue. Your release coating his tongue perfectly as he licked you clean.

He got up, smiling cockily as his chin glistened with your juices.

“Fuck you are insane.”, you said before you sat up and kissed him.

He gladly kissed you back as you fell against the pillow and he devoured your mouth. You tasting yourself against the tip of his tongue which made you moan into his mouth.

You pushed him onto the bed before sitting on his lap, facing him.

“Hi.”, you smiled against his skin as he held you tight. You peppered kisses down his chin and neck as he moaned a little. You liked the way you affected him as you slowly undid his shirt’s buttons and kept kissing every inch of skin that was being exposed.

His grip tightened against your waist as your grinded a little on his lap. Your exposed pussy deliciously twisting on his dress pants which were getting coated by your arousal.

“Leave marks –”, he moans.

“Please leave marks.”

You smirked as you kissed and sucked his neck and his chest, leaving marks as you pleased and he moaned and whimpered. You almost felt invincible as you saw such a big man like him whimpering against your touch.

“You are so pathetic.”, you muttered lowly in his ear.

“I’m so pathetic...”, he hums submissively, agreeing.

You slowly opened his shirt and threw it away before going for his belt. You got down from his lap and kneeled on the floor before asking him to sit on the edge of the bed.

Slowly you opened his belt and pants as his cock heavily strained against his boxers. You touched it through the fabric as he moaned.

“You are so big.”, you whispered and it came out like a sigh.

“Take it out darling, please.”, Namjoon whimpered as you finally took his cock out and put it in your mouth.

You licked the precum clean as you tried to take it whole at one go. Tears dared to fall out of your eyes as you moaned satisfactorily against his cock. He was huge and it filled your mouth perfectly as you bobbed your head up and down, making he groan and moan.

“Fuck, you take me so well.”, he stated as he gripped your hair around his knuckles.

“Only I make you feel like this right?”, you tease with kitten licks on the tip.

“Yes. Yes, only you.”, Namjoon whimpers as you suck one last time before he is pulling you up and onto the bed.

A shiver ran down your body as Namjoon stared you down as he crawled up to you and aligned his cock to your aching core. You were so impatient as you saw the way he correctly caught onto your desperate look and smirked.

“Namjoon...don’t tease.”, you whimpered as you tried to sound stern.

“You have to say please, baby.”, Namjoon’s eyes bored down on you as you saw a smooth smirk forming on his face.

He knew he drove you crazy and that made it extra hot. You moaned at the sensation of his cock slowly rubbing against your pussy and almost as if an involuntary reaction, you whispered, “Please fuck me.”

He slammed his cock in and groaned along with you, your bodies convulsing into one as only panting was heard.

“That’s it darling.”, Namjoon groaned in your ear as he kept thrusting at an agonizingly slow pace. He snapped his hips once in a while to give you the intensity of how his cock would feel completely in your pussy but then he is back to slow fucking.

“You are making me go crazy.”, Namjoon said between thrusts and all you could do was moan his name. He was making you feel so good that you clenched against his throbbing dick, trying to take it all in.

Your body was on fire as the sensations that were happening on your skin was too much to take. You gripped his biceps, trying to stabilize yourself as you pulled him in for a kiss.

“I want to ride you.”, you finally whimpered out and Namjoon obliged willingly.

He flipped you both over so that you were seated on his stomach as he lied down and took you in. Your flushed skin and messed up hair was looking extra pretty. Your cheeks red as sweat glistened your skin like some sort of alluring entity.

“You are so beautiful.”, Namjoon stroked your cheek as you slowly grinded on his cock. His head fell as he groaned and moaned. You were euphoric when you watched the way he fell apart. It almost gave you confidence as you slowly grinded your hips and rode his dick.

“Nam...joon I am going to...”, you whimpered as you could feel the climax approaching.

Namjoon noticed and took the matter in his own hands as he gripped your waist and hips tight, your skin blazing under his touch as he snapped his hips up to coax your climax. You saw stars as you felt the climax take over your body, creaming his cock with your release which made him moan loudly as he tried to take his dick out before he releases.

“Don’t. Cum inside me. I have IUD.”, you couldn’t even finish speaking as he thrusts in again and this time you saw the pleasure shoot up on his face as he gripped you tight against his skin and came inside you. Filling you up with his warm release.

“Fuck...”, he said in your ears as he held you tight.

You both stayed in that position for quite a long time before he slowly got up and took you to the washroom bridal style. He got a warm bath ready for you as you washed yourself and got into one of his shirts and shorts.

After Namjoon was also done showering, he quickly changed the sheets and placed some fresh sheets on the bed before he pulled you in with him. You lied down on his bicep as he pulled you in for a long embrace.

“I wasn’t joking, okay?”, Namjoon said after a while.

“Huh?”, you looked at him dumbfoundedly.

“I wasn’t joking when I said I want to make you mine.”, he said a little more serious this time.

“Oh.”, you said as you could feel your cheeks heat up.

“Yes. I have been in love with you for a while now. I tried to suppress this feeling for a while but then I saw you with that bastard and I thought I lost you.”, Namjoon earnestly confessed.

“I also have feelings for you.”, you meekly replied.

“What?”, Namjoon was shocked as he stared at you in disbelief.

“Yes. I dated Youngjin because I wanted to get over that feeling but that never happened. I have always been hopelessly in love with you.”, you finally confessed after mustering a lot of courage.

“That’s...wow...that’s insane.”, Namjoon stammered as he drew slow circles on your skin.

“We are both stupid, aren’t we?”, you said with a silly smile.

Namjoon gave a hearty laugh as he pulled you in again, this time making sure you know how much you mean to him. He kissed your forehead and then your cheeks before he was peppering your whole face with kisses as you giggled and tried to push him away.

“You are smitten.”, you teased.

“Just for you.”, Namjoon said with a smile.

And no matter the loneliness that once was in your life, you knew that Namjoon would always has been there. Namjoon has always been that invisible pillar in your life that you always were grateful for. He has always been there, in the most subtle ways. And you are glad that you both found your ways to each other.

✧˖* taglist: @topforsure @moonqueensposts @sanarin @joonlover1207

✧˖* note: this was kind of intense but i really wanted to use the short plot idea i saw somewhere online. i hope you liked it!!♡♡ can you guess where i used that short plot idea? anyways i will be back with more such fics, till then goodbye and have a great day!

– love, artemis

[creatingblackcharacters]

a while back I sent an ill-worded question about words used to describe skin complexion, so first of all I want to apologise for how my question came across for you, the anger it caused and how careless my phrasing was in that regard. it wasn't meant that way, but of course that doesn't negate the damage done.

I've been debating what to say and how to say it, or whether I should just silently take the L on this miscommunication and leave it, because ultimately that's what it was. I never meant "how does that read to you?" as in "do you understand the words I'm saying?", frankly it didn't even cross my mind that questioning your understanding could be a genuine meaning of my words. that's just not how it makes sense to me.

I meant "how does that read to you?" as in "how does the very use of those words rooted in whiteness come across to Black readers when applied to Black characters by white writers?" (could I have been this clear? sure, if it had occurred to me that my question without explaining my full entire thought process could be terribly misconstrued, but it obviously did not occur to me, so here we are. all I can do is try to do better and I am trying).

though I have to say, in its own way the reply you gave me sheds light on that question. the descriptors all carry an implication, regardless of whether we have begrudging understanding that we all know what they are supposed to convey because we've learned the words and their meanings and we can use our brains to decipher context. though it brings me back to my question - how does the use of descriptors like paling/blanching/deathly pallor/etc. come across for Black readers? does it show the intent and care this blog is advocating for? is that something that takes people out of the story, especially when they know the author is white? and in that sense, are physiological descriptions preferred then?

ideally writers would make the effort to actually figure out how to describe Black complexion, it seems like the natural conclusion here, but for me it also begs the question what the equivalent to "to pale" for dark skin is, and I suspect the answer is there is none. (or maybe I just haven't encountered it?)

ultimately, I want to use my words in a good way, in a way that makes my Black readers feel seen, but language is hard and I don't always get it right. (as we have seen). and I'm thinking a step towards writing better descriptions is actually knowing what Black readers take away from them, and the impressions they leave behind. sure, there are probably some potentially obvious answers to this, but I think there is merit in making sure that we're all on the same page with things like this. after all we can't look into each other's heads.

I hope I was able to word my thoughts better this time around.

If this is about the ask that I think it is, I appreciate your apology. I wasn't actually mad at you, and i apologize if my response seemed to be at you directly. I was moreso upset at the ease of the use of your language and the concept itself. It's incredibly dehumanizing to realize just how many people don't seem to think that Black people function as human beings, or that we are somehow so innately different from white bodies that extrapolations cannot be made, or that it's not even something that y'all have to consider at all. Like, the idea that Black people change skin colors as if we're chameleons in pain or sickness is far too common and comfortable an idea with the implication that is "I dont think you are human like me". It makes me sad.

I'll let others answer your question, this time, though, so you can get that feedback!

[monicfever]

Hmmm hello, could you maybe do - in headcanon style - how it was for the daredevil people fall in love with reader?

Btw I'm loving your blog <3

falling in love 𝜗𝜚 daredevil & punisher hcs

r e q u e s t e d ♡

characters used ᝰ .ᐟ matt murdock / frank castle / foggy nelson / karen page / elektra / ben poindexter / billy russo / dinah madani / muse

⏜︵ MATT MURDOCK. 𐂯

he falls in love through sound first. it’s your laugh. that’s what stays with him.

the way your laugh catches in your throat like you’re surprised by your own joy. sometimes soft and tired, sometimes wild and unexpected. he memorizes the rhythm of it before he even realizes he’s falling.

he tries not to get used to you. tells himself it’s dangerous. comfort is a trap. but then you show up with coffee just how he likes it, or rest your head on his shoulder without a word, and suddenly he wants to forget how to be alone. that scares him more than anything.

your voice becomes something like home. in the courtroom, on the street, through a half-open window — he hears you. even when you’re not talking to him, he listens. it calms the part of him that’s always spinning too fast. he hears the shift in your tone before you know you’re upset. he leans closer before you ask.

he notices the silence when you’re not around. it’s not just quiet — it’s peaceful. there’s a difference ever since he’d met you. the silence doesn’t press on his chest. it makes him feel like he can breathe for the first time in a long time. he doesn’t realize how loud his world is until you’re in it, softening the edges.

he feels selfish for wanting you. you’re light. steady. you remind him of everything good he thought he wasn’t allowed to want. he keeps his distance sometimes, disappears without warning. comes back with a quiet apology and a bruise he won’t talk about.

he listens more than he speaks. you talk about your day, about something you read, about nothing. he listens. not because he doesn’t have anything to say, but because he doesn’t want to break the spell. your voice makes things feel less heavy.

he notices how you move through the world. you make sounds other people don’t notice. the way your fingertips brush surfaces absentmindedly, how your keys jingle in your pocket, your breathing when you’re focused.

he starts turning toward you without thinking. even before you speak, even in a crowd. it’s instinct. you come into a room and his body just shifts. like a flower tilting toward the sun. he doesn't fight it anymore. he doesn't even notice he’s doing it until foggy calls him out with a smirk.

your presence is a texture. warm skin. soft fabrics. the scent of your shampoo lingering in the air hours after you leave. your touch is electric in the quietest way — never overwhelming, always grounding.

he never expected to fall in love like this. not with the city screaming. not with his past dragging behind him like a shadow. but you showed up, and you didn’t flinch at the broken pieces. you made space for him. slowly, without pressure.

he keeps finding traces of you on him. a stray thread from your scarf clinging to his coat. the faint scent of your perfume on his pillow. the echo of your laughter in his head when he’s perched on some rooftop, bleeding and tired and aching for the next time he gets to sit next to you in silence.

he doesn’t say it right away.

he’s scared of love. of needing someone. of you realizing what he really is. but one night, when your fingers graze his and he doesn’t pull away, you smile like you know. and maybe you do.

⏜︵ FRANK CASTLE. 𐂯

he feels like he’s stepping on dangerous ground. every time you smile at him, or when you simply sit next to him, he’s aware of the space between you, the space he always tries to keep. it’s an instinct to stay distant, to protect you from getting too close. he’s been through too much, seen too many people get hurt because they were too close to him. the last thing he wants is to drag you into his mess.

he keeps you at arm’s length, but he notices everything. frank doesn’t let you get too close, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t see you. he notices the way you adjust your coat when it’s cold, the small sighs you let slip when you’re tired, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something that matters to you. it eats at him. he’s terrified of what it means.

keeps the tough guy act, but you’re starting to crack it. when you’re with him he doesn’t let his guard down easily. he keeps a distance, still in control. but then, there are moments — like when you ask him if he’s okay, even after he’s been gruff with you. he won’t admit it, of course, but he’s slowly realizing how much he wants to be something other than broken for you. he can’t be weak, not with you. but in the same breath, he doesn’t want to lose what you’ve given him.

frank’s instinct is always to shield you. it’s not just about protecting you from the world, he’s trying to protect you from him. every time danger crosses your path, he’s there, stepping in front of you, keeping you behind him, telling you to stay out of it. deep down, it’s not just about the danger. it’s about the fact that if you get hurt he won’t be able to live with himself.

he’s strict with you, but it comes from a place of care. won’t let you make reckless decisions, won’t let you put yourself in harm’s way, and he’s relentless about it. you can tell he’s trying to keep things together, keeping his rules in place like armour. he’s afraid to get too comfortable.

he’s never been good at letting people in, and with you, he doesn’t know how to act. there’s this undercurrent of fear that runs through him every time you seem to trust him, every time you get close. the fear that eventually, he’ll destroy whatever peace you’ve given him. he knows the darkness in him is dangerous. it’s only a matter of time before it pulls him away from you.

he’s strict with himself too. frank has learned how to control everything — his emotions, his impulses, his need for connection. with you, it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. when you touch him, even accidentally, or when your eyes soften, it’s like a fuse is lit inside him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with that. he pulls back, hard, and tries to convince himself it’s just a moment. a brief thing. but it doesn’t feel brief.

he’s scared of what you could be to him. he’s used to being alone, to being the one who walks through the darkness without anyone beside him. you’ve brought light into his life without even knowing it, and that’s the part he can’t quite figure out. you make him feel things he hasn’t felt in years. it makes him feel like he could lose everything. he doesn’t know how to hold onto something so fragile, so pure. but god, he wants to.

he falls in love with your silence. it’s not the kind of silence that feels heavy, or suffocating. it’s the kind that comes after a long day, when you’re sitting beside him with nothing to say, and you’re perfectly content.

he doesn’t know when it happened, but you’re his calm. there’s something about you, something steady. when he’s with you, the world outside quiets. the chaos in his mind, the ghosts of everything he’s lost — somehow, with you, he can breathe. he doesn’t trust it at first. he’s not used to feeling safe.

he’s drawn to the way you move. there’s a grace to it, the way you carry yourself, like you’ve seen enough to know what’s worth paying attention to. he never misses when you come into a room.

your kindness is a weight he didn’t know he could bear. frank is used to people needing something from him. demanding things. but you? you don’t want anything but his time. it feels like too much at first. he pulls away, convinces himself it’s easier this way. but when you reach out, when your hand brushes against his, he starts realizing he doesn’t want to let go.

you are his soft spot, even if he doesn’t show it. he has layers of armor built up — physical, emotional, mental — but you slip past them without trying. you don’t force him to talk about the things that haunt him, but you’re always there when he needs to. it’s not that you fix anything, it’s that you stay.

he notices the little things. how you laugh when you’re nervous. the way you drink your coffee, always just a little too hot but never waiting for it to cool. the way you curl up with a book, lost in the world for hours, and he sits in the background, thinking he’ll never understand how something so small can make him feel so at peace.

he wants to be the one to keep you safe. it’s a selfish thought, but when he’s with you, he can’t help but feel like he wants to be the one to shield you from the world, from the violence he’s known, from the things he can’t erase.

he finally admits it, not with words, but in the way he holds you. one night, when the world’s still and you’re lying beside him, he doesn’t pull away. he lets you rest against him, his hand on your back, your breath steady against his chest. it’s a quiet thing, but it’s his way of telling you: you’re the one I need. somehow, in the silence, you understand.

⏜︵ FOGGY NELSON. 𐂯

it happens quietly with foggy, so natural he doesn’t even notice it at first. he starts saving little inside jokes in his head to tell you later, ordering your food just the way you like it without thinking twice, feeling your name sit a little heavier on his tongue when he says it.

he realizes he’s in love when you laugh at one of his worst jokes — the kind even he knows is awful — and it makes his chest hurt in that sweet, aching way. it’s not fireworks, it’s a heartbeat skipping a step. it’s the way he looks at you and feels like he’s finally home.

he loves the way you listen. really listen. like his words matter. he’s used to being the sidekick, the comic relief - - with you, he feels seen, whole. he loves your messes, your sleepy voice, your texts that don’t always make sense. he saves photos of the sky when it reminds him of you. he notices the way you carry yourself, the way your hands move when you’re talking, the curl of your smile when you’re trying not to laugh.

he gets nervous around you sometimes, still —rambles more, tugs at his sleeves, rehearses what he wants to say and still forgets half of it. he wonders if you notice how often he looks at you when you’re not looking. he loves that you make him believe in good things. soft mornings. safe places. things that last.

he’s the kind of guy who buys two toothbrushes when he’s out just in case you forget yours, who always puts the fluffiest towel on top of the stack because he knows you like the soft ones best. he remembers the weirdest little things you’ve ever mentioned in passing, your childhood cereal, the movie you always watched when you were sick — and they just start showing up in your shared space like magic.

saturday mornings become your thing. he makes pancakes too thick and always burns the first one, but he gets this proud little look when he flips one perfectly, like it’s a win worth celebrating. you sit on the counter in his shirt, coffee in hand, and he bumps your knee with his hip like you’ve been doing this forever.

his place starts to feel like your place. there’s a mug you always use, your book left open on the couch, a hoodie that mysteriously became yours (he lets you steal it without saying anything, but he absolutely notices). foggy loves slow things with you. grocery store dates. late-night reruns of shows you’ve both seen a hundred times. trying new recipes and failing spectacularly, then ordering takeout and laughing until your cheeks hurt.

he talks about you like you’re already part of his future. “we should go there next fall,” or “you’d love this,” like there’s no version of his life where you’re not in it. he doesn’t say it to impress you — it just slips out easy, like breathing.

he loves you in the kind of way that feels like sunday light through old windows, like warmth that lingers, like home. falling for you, for him, feels like putting the final piece in a puzzle he didn’t know he’d been building. when it clicks into place all he can think is oh.

⏜︵ KAREN PAGE. 𐂯

karen falls in love like she’s afraid of it. like it’s a secret she’s not ready to tell herself. it starts in the small moments — your hand brushing hers, the way you say her name, how you always seem to know when she needs someone to just stay.

she realizes she’s in love late one night when you're both sitting on the floor, eating takeout straight from the containers. you say something kind without thinking, something that hits a little too deep, and she just stops. looks at you like she’s seeing you for the first time, like she can’t believe you exist in the same world as her.

loving you scares her because it feels too good, too safe, and safe hasn’t always been something she trusted. but you never rush her. never demand more than she can give. she loves how you talk about your passions, how your eyes light up when you care. she listens so carefully, so fully, like she’s collecting every version of you in her mind and holding them all close.

you make her laugh in a way that feels like sunlight after too many cloudy days. she catches herself smiling at texts from you, rereading them when the world feels too heavy. she starts leaving little things at your place. a book she thinks you’d like. her scarf draped over a chair. she never means to — it just happens, like her heart choosing to stay before she even realizes it.

she brings you coffee just the way you like it and always pretends it was “on the way” even if she went out of her way to get it. she’s not good at grand gestures but she’s incredible at the small things — remembering your schedule, checking in on hard days, knowing exactly what to say when the world feels like too much.

she always wants to share things with you. a bite of her food, a song she found, a line from a book that made her pause. she’s constantly turning to you with soft eyes like, can i give this piece of my world to you? will you hold it with me?

there’s always a softness to her when she’s around you, like she can finally exhale. she leans into you on the couch with her head on your shoulder, listens to you ramble about your day, fingers absentmindedly drawing shapes on your arm.

when she finally tells you, it’s not dramatic. no music swelling in the background. just her, a little nervous, looking at you like she’s been waiting her whole life to find someone she could trust with her whole heart.

⏜︵ ELEKTRA. 𐂯

it hits her like a knife to the gut. deeper. she doesn’t realize she’s in love until she catches herself watching you sleep, fingers barely grazing your shoulder, and she feels scared. not because she doesn’t want it, but because she does. because you make her feel soft in ways she swore she buried.

she falls in love the same way she fights — intense, precise. but she stays in love in quiet, careful ways. brushing your hair out of your eyes, leaving notes where only you’ll find them, guarding your safety with devotion.

she remembers the exact moment she knew. it wasn’t dramatic. it was a bad day. she came home bleeding, aching, angry — and you just held her. no questions, no judgment, just steady arms and a warm voice. and she realized she could collapse into you and still survive.

she loves how you look at her like you see her. not the weapon, not the chaos. just her. the girl who once dreamed of softer things, the woman still learning how to want them again. she’s not always good with words, but her actions scream i love you. she keeps your favourite snacks in her apartment, buys you things and pretends they’re “for fun” even though they’re always exactly what you needed. she’d burn the world for you, but she also sharpens her knives a little more carefully if she knows you’ll be waiting at home.

she brings you with her to the edge of her world. into the dark corners, the chaos, the shadows she never lets anyone else see. not because she wants to scare you, but because she trusts you to love her anyway. she tells you stories late at night, low, words carefully chosen. not all of them are beautiful. some are ugly, violent, sad. but she tells you because you’re the only one she thinks might understand. or at least try to.

she calls you darling when she’s teasing, but your name — your real name — always leaves her lips like something holy.

you ground her. not by caging her—never that. but by letting her fly and knowing she has somewhere to land. someone who won’t flinch when the world turns sharp.

loving you doesn’t make her weaker. it makes her braver. she finally has something worth surviving for, something worth coming back to.

you make her laugh in a way no one else can. real, unguarded laughter, head thrown back, hand gripping your thigh like she doesn’t want to fall. like you’re her gravity. she sleeps best with her hand wrapped around your wrist, your chest rising beneath her ear. no one touches her like you do, like she’s something worth holding, not just something sharp and dangerous.

when she kisses you it’s deliberate. she pulls you in like she’s starving, like you're a secret she’s been dying to keep. sometimes soft, sometimes rough, always real.

she’s still learning how to stay. but with you, it’s getting easier. loving you doesn’t feel like losing control, it feels like finding it. like maybe this, you, were the only thing she ever really wanted to protect.

⏜︵ BEN POINDEXTER. 𐂯

he loves you like a loaded gun loves a steady hand. like you’re the only thing keeping him from spinning out. there’s worship in his gaze when he looks at you, like you hung the stars just for him, like you're the one true thing in a world that never made sense.

he knows he’s in love when you touch his face for the first time. gentle. unafraid. he holds so much violence in his bones, but your fingers? your fingers make him feel human, like maybe he’s more than what he’s done.

he doesn’t know how to be casual about you. everything is everything with dex. he memorizes the way you speak, the things you love, the clothes you wear. he keeps mementos without even realizing it — your receipts, your notes, the smallest scrap of your existence. not in a creepy way (mostly). his version of domestic love is quiet but obsessive. he notices what soap you use and buys it in bulk. he learns your schedule so he can cook your favourite dinner on the nights you always come home tired.

knows your schedule by heart. not because you told him but because he watched. memorized the way your day flows, where you go, the train you take, how long it takes you to get home. he needs to feel close, even when you're far.

he goes still when you’re not around. like the world presses pause until he hears your key in the door, your voice calling his name. he’s not himself without you. it’s like you carry the part of him that makes him human. when you're in the room, no one else exists. his eyes never leave you. even if you’re across the bar, even if he’s mid-conversation, his body always tilts toward you, like instinct, like a weapon waiting for your call.

gets needy when you’re distant. emotionally, physically, even just distracted. he’ll try to play it cool but ends up pressed against you like a shadow, murmuring things like you still like me, right? and i'm good for you, aren’t i? like he needs you to say it over and over just to keep breathing.

he remembers everything. the first thing you ever wore around him. the way you said his name that one time with your voice half-broken from laughing. the exact moment he realized he'd burn the world if it meant keeping you safe.

stalks your socials when you’re apart for too long, even if you’ve only been gone a few hours. he zooms in on blurry selfies like they hold clues to how you're feeling. he rereads old texts.

he has trouble saying i love you. not because he doesn’t feel it, but because he feels it too much. like the words might break open something inside him. when he does say it, it’s always a whisper, like a secret — murmured into your hair, your collarbone, your heartbeat.

he doesn't like people getting too close to you. even friends, especially strangers. he doesn’t cause scenes, but the way he stands too close, stares too long, it’s a warning. he’s jealous in ways he tries to hide. you laugh too hard at someone else’s joke, and his eyes flash before he looks away, jaw clenched. he never blames you. he just doesn’t know how to share. he’s never had anything worth keeping before.

he adores your voice. your laugh. the way you say his name like it means safety and not danger. he starts to crave it — like a lifeline, a tether. you ground him. you save him. over and over again. he’s terrified you’ll see the worst in him; the cracks, the blood, the past. the first time you tell him, i’m not afraid of you, he breaks. not loudly — just this soft, shaky exhale, like you just handed him forgiveness.

if you ever tried to leave him he’d break. and then he’d follow. quietly, obsessively. not to hurt you, because he can’t let go. not of you. not of the only person who’s ever made him feel like he’s not a monster.

ben doesn’t fall in love gently. he falls like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. it kind of is.

⏜︵ BILLY RUSSO. 𐂯

billy falls for you in a way that feels wrong to him. he’s not used to needing anyone, not used to wanting someone in a way that makes him feel like he’s losing control. he tells himself you’re just another distraction, that this is a temporary thing, but every second with you proves him wrong.

he’s clingy in the most subtle way. not in the overt, obvious way. no, he keeps it under wraps at first. doesn’t want to seem too needy, but he texts you way more than you think he would, checks in at the weirdest hours, and always notices when you're upset. tries to act like it's no big deal but his heart races when you don’t reply immediately.

deep down he knows how much he wants your approval. your affection, your attention. but admitting that to himself would feel like weakness, and weakness is something billy russo has never allowed himself. so he hides it, but the truth slips out in small, desperate ways— like when he pulls you a little too close, hands gripping you a little too tight.

he gets so caught up in wanting to be perfect for you that he ignores the fact that his attachment to you is slowly consuming him. if you don’t love him back the way he needs, if you don’t give him what he craves, validation, it’s like his whole world starts to fall apart. he needs to be the one who matters to you, needs to know you see him. he craves the moment you make him feel like he’s worthy. but then, the other side of him: the side that’s broken, that knows attachments make you weak, that tries to distance himself because he doesn’t want you to see how much you’ve broken through his walls. when things get too close, too vulnerable, he pulls back. cold. distant.

he loves you with precision. he makes it look effortless, but it’s calculated. strategic. flowers when you’re stressed, your favourite wine waiting at home, gifts that are too perfect to be casual. he studies you, and you don’t even realize it until later — how much of you he’s already claimed.

he keeps tabs on you. not in a sweet checking in kind of way, more like he needs to know where you are at all times. your location's on, your building's watched. not in an invasion sort of way, just in the im making sure no one breaks in while i’m not there way.

there’s this constant struggle in his head. one part of him wants to be the perfect version of himself for you, the kind of man you can depend on, who can take care of you in ways he never thought possible. the other part of him knows that needing you like this, being dependent on you for his sense of self-worth, is his undoing.

his place starts looking like yours fast. your clothes in his closet, your skincare in the bathroom, your playlist on repeat. you don’t even remember when you started leaving things there, he just started keeping them.

he doesn't say i love you like it’s fragile. he says it like it’s a warning. like, you don’t get it. i’d kill for you. i’d ruin myself for you. i’d go back to every violent part of myself if it meant keeping you safe.

and god help anyone who tries to come between you. he’ll be smiling, charming, polite. and then he’ll be gone. and so will they.

⏜︵ DINAH MADANI. 𐂯

when she first realizes she’s in love with you, it’s all business at first. you were someone she could rely on, someone who made sense in the chaos of her life. at first, she thinks it’s just an attachment. something comfortable, someone to trust in a world of lies. but then, one night, she catches herself staring at you a little too long, her chest tightening for reasons she can’t explain. this is more than just trust. this is something else.

she doesn’t do relationships the traditional way. she never has. she’s used to keeping a distance, staying professional, protecting her heart from everyone who might use it against her. but with you, there’s something different. you slip through her walls without even trying. she hates how easily you do it. and she loves you more for it.

she’s tough on you, not because she doesn’t love you, but because she does. she believes in pushing you past your comfort zone, in making you face your weaknesses. it’s her way of showing you that she cares. by holding you accountable, by expecting you to rise to the occasion. when you slack off, when you let things slide, she’ll be the first one to call you out. her voice is firm, but it’s never cruel — just a no-nonsense tone that says, you’re better than this.

dinah’s version of love isn’t always soft. when you mess up, when you get lost in your own head, she doesn’t sugarcoat it. she doesn’t tiptoe around your feelings — she’ll challenge you. "what’s going on with you?" she’ll ask, not out of judgment, but because she knows you can do better. she doesn’t want to hear excuses, just results.

she’s not afraid to push your buttons. when you want to give up, when things get too hard, she won’t let you back down. she’ll make you face the tough stuff, sometimes in a way that feels like a blow to the chest. but it’s her way of making sure you don’t settle for less than you’re capable of. when you rise to the challenge, meet her expectations, she’ll be there, quietly proud, like she knew you could do it all along. she has high expectations, not just for herself, but for you too. if you ever doubt your own abilities, she’s the first to remind you what you’re capable of if you put in the work. she’ll test your limits, make you prove yourself, because she wants you to be the best version of yourself. sometimes you’ll resent it. sometimes it’ll feel like she’s being hard on you for no reason. but deep down you know she’s pushing you because she cares.

dinah’s love is protective, intense, and unyielding. she won’t show it in sweet, gentle ways. she’s not going to buy you flowers or write you poems, but when you need her, she’ll drop everything, no questions asked. she’ll shield you from harm with the same precision she takes down threats, and in those moments, you see how much you truly mean to her.

she’s not good at vulnerability — not with anyone, but especially not with you. it’s hard for her to let you see how much she needs you. she shows you she loves you through actions: a firm grip on your hand when she’s scared; a quiet, almost invisible smile when you’re together; pulling you close when things get rough, even if she doesn’t admit why. the words are harder for her.

when she’s in love, she’s all in, but with the weight of fear in her chest. she’s terrified of losing you. that would break her in a way she doesn’t think she could recover from. so she clings to you in ways you might not even notice, always checking on you, always making sure you’re safe, making sure nothing could hurt you.

she’s a fighter, and she loves the way you stand by her, not just through the victories, but through the losses. you’re the person who makes her feel like she’s doing something right, even when everything else is wrong. when she’s at her most vulnerable, when she’s exhausted, when the walls come down just enough for you to see the cracks, she’ll let you hold her. she’ll let you be the one who takes care of her.

⏜︵ MUSE. 𐂯

it’s more like a discovery than a realization. muse doesn’t exactly fall in love the way most people do; his emotions are tangled with his delusions and obsessions. he sees you and suddenly you’re the canvas for all his thoughts, his desires, and his fixations. it’s almost as though he becomes consumed with the idea of you, idealizing you in a way that is all-encompassing. for muse, love is about capturing someone, about making you the center of his world.

his love is possessive and suffocating. he doesn’t see you as a person with your own autonomy; he sees you as something to be owned. when you’re with him, he’ll be obsessively attentive, needing to know where you are, what you’re doing, and who you’re with.

you’ll start to notice that he manipulates every situation to keep you close to him. muse is intelligent, charming, and deeply persuasive when he wants to be. he knows how to make you feel special, how to convince you that you’re the only one who truly understands him; because, after all, you’re his masterpiece. he might start doing little things to charm you or draw you in, but as soon as you’re hooked, he’ll tighten the grip.

when he’s affectionate it’s intense. he doesn’t understand boundaries — he’ll be all over you, physically and mentally. he’ll touch you obsessively, but in ways that are still strange and uncomfortable, because he sees every part of you as something to be explored. his kisses are deep, hungry, as if he’s trying to possess you, and when he’s not physically with you, his thoughts will haunt you. expect him to watch you, follow you, and find ways to be where you are, no matter what it takes.

if you try to break free, if you even hint at being done with him, his obsession will turn dangerous. he doesn’t understand rejection in a healthy way. To him, it’s an affront to his creativity, his passion — you are his masterpiece, and no one walks away from a piece of art. he’ll find ways to draw you back in, perhaps through threats or manipulation. he’ll never let go willingly.

he won’t give up on you easily. if you ever try to move on or set boundaries he will find ways to blur the lines. can turn into a creeper — lurking in the shadows, watching your every move. his love feels suffocating, and he believes that the only way to truly love someone is by completely enveloping them, controlling every aspect of their life. he might not understand why you’d want space or independence, and to him, that only reinforces his belief that he’s the only one who can give you what you truly need.

he’s incredibly manipulative. if you ever show any resistance, muse will use guilt, charm, and emotional manipulation to make you feel like you’re the problem. he might try to gaslight you into believing that you’re the one who’s making things difficult, that he’s just trying to love you in his own way. he’s dangerous when he feels threatened. If someone else gets too close to you, or if he feels like he’s losing control over you, he’ll react with violence or threats. he’s not afraid to hurt people (or you) to maintain his control over you. this could mean anything from threatening your friends or family to going to extreme lengths to make sure no one takes you away from him.

he’ll be highly critical — almost like he’s sculpting you into something that fits his vision of what you should be. it’s not malicious in his mind; it’s about improving you, making you into someone who can be worthy of his love.

he loves your vulnerability, and he’ll try to uncover every layer of you to feel like he knows you, better than anyone else. this might manifest in seemingly innocent questions or constant probing of your past and emotions, but for him, it’s a way to build a deeper connection — an almost predatory sense of closeness that makes him feel like he has a claim on you. the more he knows, the more he can control, and that gives him a sense of artistic satisfaction.

his love might feel like being in a gilded cage; beautiful, but suffocating.

★ a / n : p.s. im glad you love it. <3

started 4.25.2025. finished 4.26.2025.

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©️ monicfever 2025