#you can clearly see which one's having the time of their life

[spideyjimin]

Wait for your love | jjk (teaser)

—  pairing: firefighter!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: kind of exes to lovers, parents au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  summary: sixteen years ago, your life was turned upside down when you surrendered to the temptation — none other than jungkook, the star basketball player on your school’s team. today, after all that time, you reunite under tragic circumstances; a car crash where he saves your life.

—  words: 577

—  author’s note: here you have the teaser of the fic i’m currently working on 🤗 you have a tiny little teaser below & i hope you’ll enjoy it ❤️

—  tag list: let me know in any way if you want to be tagged when i post this and if you are part of my permanent taglist, you will automatically be added ✨

Jungkook and his team got called for a car accident involving several cars, and when they arrived, the scene was horrific.

There are probably five cars pressed and smashed one against the other. There are people injured and bleeding walking around the scene. Paramedics are already taking care of them, but Jungkook is walking to the cars to retrieve the people stuck inside. His captain screams orders and tells him which car he should go to.

His eyes look around, his heart breaking when he sees everyone involved and still stuck in their cars. Visions like this are quite common for him, it doesn’t happen all the time but it’s still recurrent. At the end of the day, his job is to save people in this type of situation.

When he reaches the car, he was assigned to, he takes a look at how many people there are inside. There’s just one person, a woman behind the steering wheel. She has her hand on her head, clearly showing that she might have a headache. She doesn’t really move. Instantly, Jungkook tries to open the door, but it’s showing a bit of resistance.

It feels impossible to open the door, but Jungkook sees the woman’s head falling. He’s getting worrier; she’s slumping into sleep which isn’t a good sign as she was holding her head barely seconds ago. He then proceeds to break the window so he can try to open it from inside. There are other possible ways, but it would be harder and more dangerous to get her out of the vehicle.

“Ma’am,” he says with urge.

Eventually, he manages to open the damn door from the inside. A good part of the car’s front is crashing into her. Before even thinking of taking her out, he places a cervical collar to protect her neck and spine.

“Ma’am,” he repeats. “Can you hear me?”

She doesn’t answer at all. Jungkook gets closer, his fingers brushing the hair from her face, but when he finally gets to properly see the woman’s face, his heart skips a beat. This woman is none other than you. His mind can’t start to get lost in the past right now. He needs to focus on taking you out of the car.   

You’re in pretty bad shape.

There’s blood on your forehead, you most probably have a wound on top of your head. There’s also blood at the level of your stomach, turning your green shirt into a very dark color. He can distinguish a big fragment of glass shoved into your belly. It doesn’t look good. Your legs are also completely smashed by the front, causing the steering wheel to be very close to your body.  Hopefully, your legs aren’t too injured. He doesn’t even want to start thinking about all the bruises on your body.

Slowly, he places one hand behind your back while his other hand slowly pushes your legs. He’s trying to be as careful as possible to avoid causing any other injury.  His strong arms hold you once he manages to fully remove you from the car. His eyes look down at your face with evident pain. He notices how you’re trying to open your eyes which makes him think that you’re trying to fight the urge to fall asleep.

“Yn,” he says while walking to an ambulance. “Please, stay with me,” he whispers with despair. “I’ve finally found you, and I can’t lose you right away.”

[bookwormjust]

Insufferable duo (established relationship with Azriel, an afternoon with the IC, pairing together to tease Cassian)

The afternoon sunlight poured through the large windows of the House of Wind, casting a golden glow over the room as the Inner Circle gathered for a rare, peaceful moment together. It had been a long time since everyone could relax like this—no crises, no wars, no missions. Just laughter, conversation, and a chance to unwind. You were curled up beside Azriel on one of the plush couches, his arm draped casually over your shoulders, while Feyre, Rhysand, and Mor were scattered around the room, chatting easily.

And then there was Cassian. Loud, larger-than-life, and completely unsuspecting.

It had started innocently enough. Cassian had been boasting—again—about his latest training victory over a group of younger Illyrians, recounting the way he’d completely demolished them in a sparring match. He puffed out his chest, grinning like a fool, while Azriel sat quietly beside you, his lips twitching with barely-contained amusement.

You nudged Azriel’s leg with your knee, giving him a mischievous look that he immediately mirrored. There was a certain kind of unspoken language between the two of you, a silent understanding that could only come from years of knowing each other’s rhythms and moods. And right now? You were both thinking the same thing.

Cassian was way too easy to mess with.

“So, Cassian,” you started innocently, leaning forward in your seat. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling us you took down all the Illyrians—by yourself? Without any help?”

Cassian grinned wider, his wings giving a little satisfied twitch. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. They didn’t stand a chance.”

You shot Azriel a quick look, and he smirked, already catching on to where this was going. “That’s funny,” Azriel drawled, his voice calm but laced with mock seriousness. “Because if I recall, didn’t you trip over your own feet during the last training session? Ended up face-first in the mud.”

Cassian shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted. “That was one time.”

“One time?” you chimed in, feigning surprise. “Because I could have sworn I saw you do it twice. Wasn’t it twice, Az?”

Azriel nodded solemnly, playing along. “Definitely twice.”

Cassian crossed his arms, his lips twitching as if he were trying not to laugh. “I didn’t trip. The ground was uneven.”

You snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Sure it was.”

At that, Rhysand chimed in from across the room, a lazy grin on his face as he leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the show. “I think I remember seeing that too. Wasn’t there a really big splash when he fell? Feyre, do you remember?”

Feyre bit her lip to keep from laughing, nodding in agreement. “There was definitely a splash.”

Cassian threw up his hands. “Alright, alright! I didn’t trip—okay, maybe I did, but it was a fluke. That doesn’t change the fact that I still wiped the floor with those Illyrians. Which is more than I can say for Az over there, hiding in the shadows as usual.”

Azriel just gave Cassian a slow, dangerous smile—the kind that always sent a chill down your spine, but you knew this one was purely playful. “Hiding in the shadows gets the job done,” he said smoothly. “I don’t need to throw myself face-first into the dirt to prove anything.”

You couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up, leaning into Azriel’s side. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure Az never ends up face-down in the mud. Unlike someone.”

Cassian groaned, throwing his head back against the couch. “You two are insufferable.”

You and Azriel exchanged a glance, both of you biting back grins. That one word—insufferable—was the green light for both of you to push it just a little further. With Cassian, that was always the fun part.

“Insufferable?” you repeated, feigning offense as you placed a hand over your heart. “Cass, I’m hurt. We’re just pointing out some... facts.”

Azriel leaned in closer to you, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “He’s really making this too easy.”

You stifled a giggle, leaning into the warmth of his body. “I know. It’s like he wants us to mess with him.”

Cassian narrowed his eyes, sensing the conspiracy between you two. “What are you whispering about? Don’t think I can’t hear you.”

Azriel shrugged, completely unfazed. “Just discussing how it’s a miracle you can still call yourself a General Commander, considering how often you manage to embarrass yourself in front of all the Illyrians.”

Cassian let out an exaggerated huff, standing up from the couch and dramatically stretching his wings. “You know what? I don’t have to sit here and take this abuse. I’m leaving.” He pointed at you and Azriel, trying to hold onto his glare but failing miserably as the corners of his mouth twitched. “You two are worse together than a pair of drunk faelings. I’m going to find someone who appreciates me.”

You leaned back into Azriel’s chest, wrapping your arms around your knees as you grinned up at Cassian. “Good luck with that.”

Cassian was halfway to the door when Mor chimed in from across the room, her voice sweet and innocent. “Cassian, don’t forget to watch your step. We wouldn’t want you to trip again.”

You couldn’t hold it back anymore—you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach as Cassian turned, a deeply betrayed look on his face. "YOU TOO, Mor?!”

She just winked at him, clearly loving every second of it.

Cassian shook his head, dramatically sighing as he looked between you and Azriel. “I hope you two are proud of yourselves,” he said, backing toward the door. “You’re absolute menaces.”

Azriel didn’t even bother hiding his smile as he squeezed your shoulder, his voice laced with dry amusement. “We are.”

Cassian groaned again, turning to leave, but before he could exit, Azriel called out in a mock-serious tone, “Careful on those steps outside, Cassian. Wouldn’t want you to take another tumble.”

The entire room erupted in laughter, and Cassian’s voice came faintly from the hallway as he shouted, “I hate you all!”

You turned to Azriel, unable to wipe the grin from your face. “We really are insufferable.”

Azriel’s gaze softened, his smile tugging at his lips as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Maybe. But only with you.”

You sighed happily, snuggling deeper into his side. “Lucky for you, I love it.”

“Lucky for me,” Azriel murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. “I love it too.”

And so the teasing, the laughter, and the warmth of the afternoon continued, the bond between you and Azriel only deepening as you basked in the shared joy of simply being together—with the added bonus of getting to torment Cassian along the way.

[rose-maidenn]

Pac : Let's get insights on your purpose for the next 5 months !

nov-dec-jan-feb-mar

using safe passage tarot from "Agatha all along"

Pile 1-2-3

Hey guys hope you're doing well , chose the Pile that calls to you intuitively, know that I'm not gonna sugarcoat things because I want your best . Hope you enjoy this

For more see masterlist and paid readings

Pile 1 :

You are represented by the king of wands a very charismatic person , you attract people who are looking for growth and you are someone who always wins in all fields you exactly know where to play the cards right to win . Alternatively for the other part of the group king of wands can mean someone who's nose is kind of everywhere they're at too many different things not giving one thing the change to reach the full potential.

What's missing is an ending !!! Ending to certain things relationships, people , in order to reach something new you have to let the old things go which is something you have to learn . You need stronger boundaries , more self worth and less attachment issues .

The lessons you have learnt is represented by the queen of wands it is about social settings I feel like you're someone who easily becomes friends with everyone and that's a good networking skill. You could also be someone who is very creative and starts at everything their heart calls for .

Your path ahead is represented by death , it calls for an ending ending of doubts , bad thought patters , old beliefs and relationships let shit go and see what happens .

Your Obstacles is represented by chariot I feel in this case it's about you staying in the same zone and resisting change it's like an ouroburos moving but in the wrong places and wrong circles , cut the string , your comfort zone is killing you honey

O of wands in this case is like don't wait around for anyone not even about being ready yourself just do what you need to do end the things that you need to you can't drag this anymore dear, this could also be about drug addiction or addiction in general .

Your destination is magician yay ! You know how if you just let shit go the magic happens so will it happen for you. Just let it go let people be , only work for yourself, give yourself all, heal and you will know you're powerful, you don't need a guru you're the star itself.

Thank you for reading, if you liked this and would like personal insights or a longer read to book click here .

Pile 2 :

You are represented by four of cups , you are someone who wants what they want and won't settle for anything. I sense a stern energy . Alternatively you might be someone who is extremely bored these days and just wants to lay .

What is missing is justice , you need to work hard rn for your dreams , but in the write direction I won't say you never worked hard but somehow in the wrong way , you might have a retrograde Saturn. You need to find what can do justice to yourself as you owe yourself everything and you are worth everything.

The path behind is represented by page of wands , your reading is like you were a very enthusiastic person once but now you have lost the zing for life . You have a great influx of ideas why don't you use them dear.

Path ahead is represented by the empress , clearly you are to start working on these ideas start the creative project take the leap. Focus on letting your creativity flow , your intuition knows , your soul knows.

The Obstacles is represented by eight of coins is that you need to learn dedication and working on something even if it takes time be it studying , art or relationships you are called to enjoy the journey and not just the victory.

Represented by ace of wands in this case I think you should avoid working on something new until you finish the old , you need to give one thing commitment and mastery then you will reach your destination

Represented by the king of cups. Mature and passionate about what they do . This infact represents a chance that you might become the best at what you wanna do . You might become a professor a teacher or a guide to people if you choose to follow this path .

Thank you for reading, if you liked this and would like personal insights or a longer read to book click here .

Pile 3 :

You are represented by six of coins a very beautiful earthy loving energy of gratitude and kindness , you give without thinking anything part of why you are blessed with more .

Ten of swords is what is missing in my deck it's literally a person cutting off a hand honey someone is using you , the awareness and discernment on who deserves your time money and energy is the thing that is missing .

You have learnt that people will be who they are despite giving your all so why don't you apply that in new relationships keep the knowledge but also use it . Alternatively this could be about relationship and someone leaving you in the past who was toxic.

The path ahead is represented by the fool , you're in the start of a new journey you have endless possibilities you can now leap into new and have faith that universe will do the best for you.

Your Obstacles are represented by death , you're ruminating on a past relationship too much which is making you work extra even for the bare minimum you have to work to stay in your queen energy don't do too much it's not worth it .

You must overcome the queen of wands I think this is a toxic person who was in your life you said you stupid shit that didn't align with you and now you have taken their words literally , recognize who this is maybe a family member a friend or a youtuber guru idk they have flowery energy but they're unhealed

Your destination is represented by the two of cups yay a union this can be the union of your logic and intuition. Masculine and feminine energie or a new relationship:) all in all an energy of balance and love .

Thank you for reading, if you liked this and would like personal insights or a longer read to book click here .

[lazycats-stuff]

Hey cats, I was the one who sent you that anon that's alright with me, I don't mind but is an gen z reader yeeted to the dc verse be okay? I could picture Bruce almost growing white hair because of reader who is an epitome of ✨unhealthy coping mechanism✨

Oh yeah, a reader just yeeted in there... Some universe doing some shit and Bruce adopts him... While also losing his mind. I love it. Lets go. It's a bit short, but... I like it.

Summary: (Y/N) is Gen Z. Bruce is loosing his mind.

Warnings: unhealthy coping mechanisms, Gen Z ones at that.

Bruce knew that each generation is different. They have different opinions, don't like to be told what to do exactly, although that's more specific to the newer generations. That is something that Bruce knew all to well. Gen Z wanting to have a balance between work and personal business. Bruce could respect that. But one other thing that shocked Bruce about Gen Z is the fact they have so many unhealthy coping mechanisms.

How would Bruce know?

He has adopted a teen who simply got, according to Jason and other younger heroes, yeeted into their universe. Universe where Justice League and it's heroes are real. And where DC comic universe is real. (Y/N) was forced to explain to the entire Justice League what DC is, what does it contain. And that has only applied to comic books. Then he had to explain cartoons, movies, video games... Absolutely everything.

Bruce found it to be interesting, the entire multiverse essentially, all of them are carefully planned out... Bruce found them to also be a great source of information. What to avoid, what to do... It was an incredible well of information and has decided to investigate this even more.

And while doing so, keep (Y/N) close to make sure that he has the information he needs.

And while (Y/N) is a nice kid, he has some unhealthy... Coping mechanisms as he calls them.

First one being jokes. Humor is something that can help a person if they feel down. Or if they simply want to deflect. And (Y/N)'s sense of humor is rather... Dark, to say the very least. Bruce would more often than not get gray hairs if he heard (Y/N) joking about his will to live being gone. He knows that (Y/N) is not suicidal... Right?

Humor is simply used to deflect... Right?

Bruce didn't quite like how (Y/N) was chronically online. Sure, teens spend time on their phone, but this is borderline an addiction. Bruce has tried to solve the problem with putting restrictions, taking the phone away. Put settings that don't allow (Y/N) to be online from certain times. That was to try to make (Y/N) sleep better, since he's clearly online into the late hours of the night.

Bruce simply wants the only child in the house who is not on patrol to have a normal sleeping schedule. Is that a crazy thing to ask for? It should be a normal thing to ask for, right? Being chronically online is far from good. Far, far, from good.

Also, hyper fixation.

(Y/N) was more invested in fiction rather than reality. Which would be fine. If it didn't interfere with his life. In what way, I might hear you asking? He's been neglecting his hygiene, gets angsty and anxious if he is not near his hyper fixation. Bruce never knew that Gen Z is this... Bruce shouldn't say annoying, but this was getting out of hand. Rather fast.

Bruce had to take action.

Otherwise he would get a lot more grey hairs. Way more. Way more.

" (Y/N), go to sleep. " Bruce pleaded, suited up and ready to go on patrol, however, he can't go, knowing that (Y/N) won't go to sleep. And everyone needs their 7 to 9 hours of sleep. Besides Bruce and the boys that are... On their night job. To put it mildly.

" I'm not tired Bruce. "

A common response in the most recent days from (Y/N) to Bruce.

" I swear to God, I'll sedate you with ketamine if you don't go to sleep. I'll knock you out with it to the point you'll be sleeping for days. " Bruce threatened and then came the infamous two words.

Alright, bet.

Bruce was seeing red at the mere thought of those words. They were both taunting and dismissive. Not something to be saying to an already stressed father anyway. And while Bruce has grown to love (Y/N) as his son, he was going to lose his mind with him.

" Alright, here's a deal. You go to sleep and sleep through the night and I'll take you to see your favorite artist. "

(Y/N) tilted his head, frowning.

" Promise? "

" I promise you. I swear it to you. I'll get you VIP tickets. I'll make sure to take you myself and pull strings. But for the love of God and everything else, go to sleep! "

[lavender-butterfly-cookie]

I would love to see a second part of Forgotten Friends

One where the beast eventually realized that they blew stuff out of proportion and, because of that, their friend was basically forced to betray them, but they have no one to blame but themselves

And by the time they realized and are out of their prison

Reader cookie can varely remember them, they do remember they used to be friends, but all their evil deed have replaces most happy memories and Reader has a hard time being able to trust or even be near them

Patience is a strong thing, but time is more

The SoulJam of Patience has follow their tittle, now it's Their turn to use it

I like your style dear butterfly.

Forsaken, Forgotten, Un-Forgiven

previous part

Where does one even begin to express how much patience you've lost? How does one even begin to accept your friends have become nothing more but shells of their former selves? How does one learn to forgive them for forcing you to betray them? As hard as it is to believe, it starts with an apology.

After sealing your friends away all those years ago, it took you immense amounts of patience before you could face the world again. It took you so much patience to adjust and make new friends. So much patience to finally feel free about revealing who you really are. Patience to accept that they were gone and they weren't coming back. It took a long time, but you endured it. And it was worth it.

But it wasn't.

You found yourself face to face with five shards of tinted glass, all representing a shard from what was broken long ago. You barely remembered any of them, but that doesn't mean you forgot them and their evil deeds completely

The blue shard, who had once been your source of knowledge and guidance, now full of cracks that mimicked the web of deceit it was entangled in. You remember how the threads of that web were used to puppet and control the lives of the innocent, forcing them to fight for his own twisted little show.

The white shard, who had one been the holder of the virtue known as volition, now flavorless and apathetic soul devoid of any meaning. You remember how easily she turned everything to flour with just a simple motion of her hand. And you knew she did it because she saw little to no value in living a life with the inevitable end known as death

The red shard, who was once the herald of change in itself, now a destructive and merciless monster who sees no point in creation when it's bout to wither away eventually. You remember how he had destroyed countless homes and lives, all because he was bored.

The pink shard, who was once the most loving and joyful person you had ever met, now a lazy sloth who didn't even bother doing anything anymore. You remember vividly how she wiped away so many cookies just because they woke her up from her nap.

Then there was the Purple shard, once a noble knight of solitude, now a dark knight of silence. You remember all to well how had mercilessly crumbled several cookies in a single strike. How he's never uttered a word since he became corrupted.

These shards of glass are none other than your fallen friends, freed from but under different circumstances. They weren't causing havoc, they weren't attacking- heck, they weren't even angry at you after you lead them into a trap. What baffled you more was how the ancients were present but stood to the side. It took some time before the realization hit you.

"They want to talk."

You heard a voice say. It sounded like you, but much more mature. You felt your heart drop. They wish to talk? Couldn't they have thought about that years- no, CENTURIES ago?! But you're not about to argue with the light of patience when you clearly have better things to focus on.

The first thing you noticed about your fallen friends is their demeanor. They're not angry... they actually look guilty and nervous. Next was their souljams... which they didn't have for some reason. The ancients probably have it, which is good. They can't cause much damage. Shadow milk cookie stepped forward and you were ready for anything....

"Y/N cookie..."

Anything at all.

"We're sorry..."

Except that. Your eyes widened and you froze solid, the words unable to register in your head. They were apologizing?... But- no that can't be right... this is a trick... It's a trick and you won't fall for it again... You look at the ancients. They aren't intervening or protesting against this false apology.

...

They can't seriously believe this, right? They're not falling for this, RIGHT?! You step back a bit and shake your head slightly. This was a trick. Why do they want to redeem themselves NOW? Had they not realized the gravity of what they did before sooner? This had to be some kind of lie. And you weren't gonna fall for it. You made that very clear to them before walking.

It was only later on where pure vanilla cookie explained that they were attempting a redemption arc to fix the bond between you. The ancients really did believe them... Why did they believe them?! They had been nothing but pure evil as far as you can remember. Their evil deeds outweighed whatever happy memories you had with them... almost as though you didn't have happy memories.

The beasts tried again and again to at least get you to cast a glance at them but it was fruitless. You walked away from the library when Shadow milk cookie tried talking to you. You completely ignored Eternal sugar cookie trying to enter your room and talk to you. You turned your back on Burning spice cookie when he attempted reaching out for you. You refused to acknowledge Mystic flour cookies attempt of interaction with you. And the silence between You and Silent salt cookie had grown into a deadly kind of quiet, as if none of you had even been together.

They just didn't get it, did they? They betrayed your trust once, what if they do it again? You had to be BEYOND patient with yourself in order to recover and yet they've returned? No, they shouldn't have. They had no idea how many sleepless nights you endured to finally accept they're absence. How much you had to learn to adjust and be patient with yourself to be able to move on. And all that hard work, all that patience, it was gonna crumble because of them.

No, you can't let that happen. You can't just forgive them just like that. Not after everything they've done, to innocent cookies, everything they've done to you. If they really wanted your forgiveness, they'd have to be as patient with you as you were with them when they weren't corrupted. They have to earn your forgiveness, and that was going to take a long time.

You were patient with them, now they must be patient with you. How long they'd have to be patient was unknown, and how long they'd actually remain patient was just as mysterious.

[acknowledge-reigns]

Swipe Right | Roman Reigns x Black!fem OC (18+)

Chapter: 6/6

Word Count: 2079

Description: Roman and Iris have their first fight, and make things official.

Warnings: Mild angst, arguing, Dom/sub dynamic, praise, punishment, spanking/paddling, dirty talk, degradation, begging, unprotected sex (both clean, she's on the pill), p in v, nipple play,

This is set in an AU in which the og bloodline reunited before wrestlemania 40 and Roman retained. As always my stories are about Roman, not Joe. While there is not smut in the first couple of chapters, there will be in others. This is very much an 18+ BDSM based romance with some comedy thrown in there. You have been warned.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵

A couple of months had passed since Roman and Iris' date. They'd gone out every weekend since, he'd even come over for dinner one night last week, he'd finally won Imani over with an autograph from Rhea Ripley and arranged a face time call for Amira to meet 'Maui'. Things were going well.

Iris walks into the living room where her sister Jax is sitting on the couch, watching TV.

"Hey Jax," she says, plopping down next to her. "Can I ask you a favor?"

Jax turns to her, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure, what's up?" she asks, turning off the TV.

"Roman and I are going out on Saturday night," she says. "And I was wondering if you could watch the girls for me?" Iris asked

Jax smiles but shakes her head no.

"Sorry, sis," she says. "Roman gave one of his cousins my number and we're going out this weekend too. You'll have to ask LeLe to babysit."

Iris's eyes widen in surprise, but she quickly recovers and gives Jax a supportive smile.

"Oh, really?" she says, trying to hide her shock. "That's great, I'm happy for you"

Jax grins, clearly excited about her date.

"Thanks, sis," she says. "I really like this guy. I hope it goes well."

Saturday arrives, Kiley was luckily free to stay with the girls. Imani was pretty much old enough to babysit but Iris didn't like the idea of putting adult responsibilities such as childcare on her daughter who isnt even old enough to drive. She knew what that felt like. Iris gets into the car with Roman, though he notices something is off.

Roman notices that Iris seems a bit quieter than usual as they drive to his place for dinner. He reaches over and takes her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Hey, is everything okay?" he asks, concern in his voice.

Iris turns to Roman, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Can I ask you something?" she says, her voice firm.

Roman looks at her, confusion evident on his face. "Yeah, of course," he says.

Iris takes a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"Why didn't you tell me you were setting up Jax with one of your cousins?" she asks, her voice betraying her annoyance.

Roman sighs, seeing that he apparently messed up."I didn't think it was a big deal," he says, avoiding her gaze. "I thought it would be a fun surprise for her."

Iris shakes her head, her annoyance growing. "It's not just a fun surprise, Roman," she says. "It's my sister's life. You can't just go around setting her up with random people without telling me first."

"Jey's a good guy. He's not a random person, I grew up with him. He'll take care of her, and I'll make damn sure of it." Roman said.

Iris rolls her eyes, clearly not convinced.

"I'm sure he's a great guy, but that's not the point," she says. "You should have asked me first before you went and did something like that."

"I was under the impression Jax is a grown woman who can decide herself who she wants to go out with." Roman argued.

Iris's anger boils over and she turns to Roman, her voice rising.

"You know what, Roman? You're so damn inconsiderate sometimes. You just do whatever you want without thinking about how it affects other people. You didn't even think to ask me how I felt about you setting up my sister with one of your crazy cousins."

Roman's expression darkens and he looks at Iris with a warning glare. "Watch your tone, Iris," he says firmly. "I don't appreciate being talked to like that."

Iris scoffs and crosses her arms, not backing down.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt your little feelings, Chief?" she says sarcastically.

Roman chuckles darkly, a sly smile spreading across his face."You decided if you're gonna be my sub or not?"

Iris hesitates for a moment, simply because the question seemed random in this particular moment but then nods her head. "Yes," she says quietly, her eyes locked on Roman's.

Roman's smile widens, something like an evil grin as he hears her answer.

"Good girl," he says as the car comes to a stop at his house. The minute They get out he throws Iris over his shoulder.

Iris squeals in surprise as Roman picks her up and carries her into his house.

"Roman, put me down!" she protests, but he just chuckles, gives her a firm smack on the ass and ignores her.

"You remember your Safeword?" Roman asked

"Yes, Sir." Iris confirmed.

"Good" Roman carries her into the bedroom and throws her onto the bed. He stands over her, his eyes dark with desire and dominance. "I'm about to teach you a lesson in respecting your Dom," he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Iris looks up at Roman, her eyes wide with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "I wasn't disrespectful," she protests, her voice barely above a whisper.

Roman leans down, his face inches from hers. "Oh, really?" he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You weren't disrespectful in the car when you talked back to me like that?"

Iris looks away, knowing she can't deny it.

"Okay, maybe I was a little disrespectful," she admits grudgingly.

Roman grins, clearly enjoying her admission.

"That's right," he says, his voice low and seductive. "And now you're going to pay for it."

Roman leans in closer, his lips brushing against her ear. "I'm going to punish you, Iris," he whispers. "And you gon' take it  like a good girl."

Roman pulls back and looks down at her, his eyes burning with desire. "Strip," he commands.

Iris slowly begins to remove her clothes. She can feel Roman's eyes on her, watching every move she makes.

Once she's completely naked, Roman steps back and looks her up and down.

"You're so beautiful," he says, his voice rough with desire. "But so damn bratty. Your tribal chief is gonna have to teach you to use that pretty lil mouth for something other than talking back."

Roman walks over to the dresser and opens a drawer, pulling out a cute heart shaped leather paddle. He turns back to Iris, holding the paddle in his hand.

"Turn around, bend over the bed." he says, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Iris does as she's told, bending over the bed and presenting her plump ass to Roman. She can feel her heart racing in anticipation of what's to come.

Roman runs his hand over her smooth skin, admiring the view."You have such a pretty ass," he says, his voice low and husky. "all mine"

Roman raises the paddle and brings it down on her ass with a sharp crack. The impact sends a wave of pain through Iris's body, but it's quickly followed by a rush of pleasure.

*SMACK*

*SMACK*

*SMACK*

Iris can feel her skin heating up under the onslaught of the paddle. The pain is intense, but there's that strange pleasure mixed in with it. She can feel herself getting wetter and wetter with each smack.

*SMACK*

*SMACK*

*SMACK*

*SMACK*

"Looks like you're enjoying this hm?" Roman says, his voice full of satisfaction.

Roman stops spanking her and steps back, admiring the marks he's left on her skin.

"You're such a naughty girl," he says, his eyes glinting with desire. "But you take your punishment so well."

Iris looks up at Roman, her eyes pleading.

"Please, Roman," she begs, her voice trembling with need. "Please fuck me."

Roman grins, enjoying the sight of her begging for him.

"You want it that bad, huh?" he says, his voice rough with desire. "You want me to fill you up and make you mine?"

Roman leans down, his face inches from hers.

"Where's all that attitude now, huh?" he asks, his voice mocking. "You were so mouthy in the car, but now look at you. Begging for your tribal chief's dick like a little slut."

Roman grins, enjoying the power he has over her.

"You need me, huh?" he says, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You need me to fill you up and make you feel good? You think you deserve it?" He casually brings the paddle down again, to her surprise.

Iris gasps as the paddle connects with her skin.

"I do deserve it," she says, her voice shaky. "I've been bad, and I needed to be punished. But I took it like a good girl! Please, My tribal chief."

Roman nods, his eyes glinting with obvious satisfaction.

"You're right, you did take it like a good girl," he says, running his hand over her freshly paddled ass. "And now you've earned your reward."

Roman moves closer to her, his body pressing against hers. He leans down and whispers in her ear.

"I'm going to make you feel so good, Iris. I'm going to make you scream my name."

Roman quickly undresses, his clothes falling to the floor in a heap. He positions himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips tightly. Without warning, he thrusts into her, burying himself deep inside her.

Iris cries out as he enters her, the sudden fullness overwhelming her senses. She can feel him deep inside her, stretching her open and filling her up completely.

Roman starts to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first. He leans over her, his chest pressed against her back, and whispers in her ear.

"You feel so good, Iris. So tight and wet for me."

Iris moans in response, arching her back to meet his thrusts. She can feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge, her body responding to his every move.

"Harder," she gasps, her voice hoarse with desire. "Please, harder."

Roman obliges, his thrusts becoming faster and more forceful. He grips her hips tighter, pulling her back against him as he pounds into her.

"You like it rough, huh?" he growls, his breath hot against her ear. "You like it when I take you like this?"

Iris can only moan a soft unintelligible "yes, my tribal chief" in response her body too overwhelmed with pleasure to form clear words. She can feel the pressure building inside her, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust.

Roman leans in close to her ear again, his voice low and menacing.

"I'm going to fuck you senseless, babygirl," he growls, his hips snapping against hers. "I'm going to make you forget your own name. You're mine now."

Roman's words only add to the intensity of the moment, pushing Iris closer and closer to the edge. She can feel herself teetering on the brink, her body trembling with need.

Roman can feel her body tensing up, and he knows she's close. He reaches around and grabs her breast, his fingers pinching her nipple hard causing her to cry out from the intoxicating painful pleasure she's grown to love.

"Come for me, Iris," he growls, his voice commanding. "Come all over my cock."

Iris's body obeys, the combination of pain and pleasure sending her over the edge. She screams his name as she comes, her body convulsing around him.

Roman continues to thrust into her, riding out her orgasm until he finally reaches his own climax. He groans as he spills himself inside her, his body shaking with the force of it.

They collapse onto the bed, both of them panting heavily. Roman rolls off of her and pulls her into his arms, holding her close.

Iris rests her head on his chest, still trying to catch her breath. She feels sated and exhausted, but also strangely content.

Roman runs his fingers through her hair, his touch gentle now.

"You did good, baby," he says, his voice softer than before. "You took everything I gave you and more."

Iris smiles, feeling a sense of pride at his words.

"I just wanted to please you," she says, looking up at him. "I wanted to be good for you."

Roman chuckles and kisses her forehead.

"You were perfect," he says. "And you're all mine now."

Iris snuggles closer to him, feeling a sense of possessiveness wash over her. She knows she belongs to him now, and she doesn't want to be anywhere else. He belongs to her too.

"I'm glad you swiped right" Roman said.

Iris smiles in response, "Me too."

Previous Chapter

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵

Epilogue or nah?

**UPDATE**

Epilogue out now!

Read it here

[l-in-the-light]

Finally someone said it! Every time I try to point it out, people just dismiss it, so I stopped yapping about it, but I will now, because I feel encouraged by this.

Franky, our resident specialist on cyborgs, checked up the PX-4 model they just defeated and declared it's a cyborg, not a robot. He's half-human, half-machine. That's why they bleed!

But who are the Pacifistas then? Why do they look just like Kuma? Look at Sanji's reaction there. We know that Germa actually CAN create humans/clones from scratch!

They all have the same face (and body shape). Just like Pacifistas that look exactly like Kuma.

Franky didn't know that you can create humans from scratch, so he thought Pacifistas are just Kuma's twins or cyborgs modified to look like Kuma. But thanks to Whole Cake Island arc we know human beings CAN be built from scratch!

Judge continued the research (that he did before with Vegapunk) by himself, escaping Government's grasp. The research was for copying and augmenting life which means they researched lineage factors aka the blueprints of life itself. They take OP's equivalement of DNA from a person and make clones.

Judge even keeps those human clones in a special bio-like substance, which we know is kinda neon green. Color green often appears in One Piece in science related to lineage factors (SAD, soldiers of Germa, Seraphim's green blood), and also in relation to soul (any time Brook activates his soul resonating abilities), and, curiously enough, the steam coming from Udon's prison camp chimneys is the same shade of neon green. And then people wonder why do I keep yapping about Green Fairy alcohol... I just see the pattern here, okay. It's green, just by that fact alone it's suspicious, and drinking it did alter Strawhats behaviour for a bit. It screams soul/lineage factors.

And here's a moment of angst for you all. Yes, those clones are people and are unaware they're clones. They're just living their lives the way they were programmed (in their life blueprints), blissfully unaware they're disposable living shields and military power.

The question of "free will" is being raised here. And we should ask the same about the Pacifistas (and perhaps Seraphims). They're also clearly programmed to act the way they do, which is very machine-like. But they are half-humans.

Caesar says this in chapter 684: "[Punk Hazard] is a military testing faculty! We're all here because the Navy wants a weapon that can kill as many pirates as possible!". Punk Hazard wasn't just some random science lab where anyone does whatever they want. They're all there for this purpose, not just Caesar. Vegapunk and Judge were doing things for the military as well.

We know that officially it's Vegapunk who discovered lineage factors. I say "officially" here because I have a feeling he wasn't actually the first, but it's just the obscure feeling I have about it, I don't have clear evidence. Anyway, Vegapunk worked on lineage factors and Judge is using lineage factors, so either VP shared the research data with him or Judge pursued it on his own after they went their seperate ways.

Judge proved to us one thing: yes, you can create human beings from scratch, as long as you're smart enough to make use of lineage factors. You can also use it to clone people! Judge can do all that thanks to Vegapunk's research, so it's likely Vegapunk can do that as well and even better. That's how Pacifistas were born. Seraphims are an even better versions of Pacifistas, because they use green blood with lineage factors for devil fruits and use the best lineage possible: that of Lunarians.

If Vegapunk has Lunarians' lineage factors at his disposal, then there are two possible deductions to draw here: 1. he was part of the research group that was performing really cruel experiments on King, because he is literally the last Lunarian present in the story and we know indeed he was captured by the Government at some point (guess in what science lab was King kept? On Punk Hazard). 2. Government (Saturn) shared with Vegapunk the results from the said experiments so he can develop Seraphims.

But let's theorize that Vegapunk did whatever he could not to dirty his hands and he only sticked to creating countermeasures to mass murder weapons, and whatever the Government was doing to the prisoners, he had no hand in it. But after he got captured by the said Government and forced to work for them (and created Egghead as the result, seastone coating for ships, Pacifistas and Seraphims, among many other things), it's likely he had to at the very least adapt the research data they gave him that they gathered from experimenting on humans. They also had to give him access to SAD (hence the green blood). And of course he had to use Kuma's lineage factors to make cyborg clones of him aka the Pacifistas.

Also, just to clarify, I don't think Vegapunk experimented on humans willingly, I think he was forced to either 1. ignore it and saw it being done under his nose (he was definitely not unaware of it, he was the leader of the science group on Punk Hazard) 2. use the data given to him that was gathered through human experimentation (Vegapunk is smart, he must have guessed how that data was acquired) 3. build cyborg human clones for the Government. Let's also not forget Stussy, who is apparently a clone made by Vegapunk as well!

But I do believe Vegapunk always did whatever he could to not cross a certain line. After all we know that while working on Punk Hazard, he earned Ibel Peace Prize for 'GP Flowers' that bloom out of gunpowder and did those very resistant protection suits that work even against deadliest gas weapons developed by Caesar. But he also did some human enlargement experiments (most likely on the prisoners, but at least he never experimented on children, Caesar made sure we know that). It's simply that in the world of One Piece there's only so much you can do without making your own conscience guilty, if you work for the Government.

Also, Vegapunk might have had a choice to leave and live the rest of his life as a runaway, but then he wouldn't be able to do science anymore. His only choice would be doing it for the criminals in some emperor's empire, like for Big Mom. We can treat him as Government's hostage who just couldn't oppose their power or views directly. Or, quoting Sanji, Vegapunk could have just given up on his dream and hide for the rest of his life in some god forsaken hole, like Woop Slap in Fuusha Village or Wolf in the North Blue, to never openly attempt science again. (Hm, why am I mentioning Woop Slap? Oh, I dunno, just a hunch). I think Vegapunk's ultimate plan to send his research stratum to the clouds was his final stand against the Government. He never truly wanted to cooperate with them, not after what he learned that they do. But he really had limited choices there. Using their funds to create potential for better future of the humanity is really awesome way of flipping them a metaphorical finger for a goodbye though.

Also fun fact, but there is one interesting inconsistency about Punk Hazard's explosion. There were in fact, two explosions, not just one. We know Caesar pressed a self-destruct button (Vegapunk installs that in every research lab he worked in). But there was apparently one more explosion in a different lab. I like to believe Vegapunk did it by himself, either to make use of the situation and destroy the human experimentation site of the Government (he could even blame Caesar's explosion for that, which would be quite clever), or because he was simply mad about the human experiments. It would be basically him flipping them a finger as a goodbye, haha. Sadly he got captured by the Government later.

I like Vegapunk exactly because he is such a morally complex character, makes him feel very human in his struggle to stay at the side of "good" in the "good vs evil" debate.

But let's not forget when Clover visited him at Punk Hazard, Vegapunk himself voiced his concern, unprompted "you won't find the answer to good and evil in old stories", proving that this dilemma was always at the back of his mind when he stayed at the lab there.

Also the "stand down" advice seems genuine, maybe he also had to "stand down" to get through Punk Hazard phase of his life, witnessing the many horrors there.

Also, Vegapunk did think the clones he created are actually humans, as one can see from his interactions with Stussy. He never treated them like machines. Would he treat Pacifistas like humans as well, though? That I'm not so sure about. He might have planned them to be just living machines with a computer program instead of a brain, but as long as he uses people's lineage factors, the results always go beyond his expectations and comprehension. Pacifistas might as well be one of Vegapunk's unmentioned sins.

It will be commented on later by Drake, but something I feel that gets overlooked by the fandom is that the Pacifistas bleed. They're not pure robots. but utilize the Vinsmoke cloning technology and are like Franky--a slurry of mechanical and organic bits mixed together into one.

So when characters like the Straw Hats blow them up, it's not as simple as destroying a robot. There was a person in there somewhere, even if they were grown in a vat and had their brain replaced with a computer. This is a little bit more obvious with the S versions shown in Egghead, but no less horrific here.

[hellfirecvnt]

Don't Piss me Off (Pt. 2)

John Q. (Simon) X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral (female receiving), "public" sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), poor life choices.

Summary: You still can't stand sticking around your parents for too long, but you stay in town for a while longer just to see him play. PART ONE IS HERE!!

Notes: I love him. I'm gonna write a million versions of the same story I stg. I didn't proof read. I got like 6 ideas at once and they're all getting written at the same time.

In the basement of a warehouse you'd assume abandoned, Simon and his band consisting of a handful of less ill-tempered, but just as dirty and dead-looking men set up for their performance. They're all spitting insults at each other as they scramble to plug in each meticulous piece of shoddy equipment they've acquired.

Simon's preoccupied. Clearly stuck on the thought of you. He realized hours ago that he never told you about the show tonight. He's wrapping the wire of the mic around his fist when he overhears the stagehands. "I didn't make it to Y/N's last party, I figured there would at least be one more before she bolted."

"She went back home?" Simon interrupts.

"Yeah, man. She left today, I'm pretty sure." The stagehands hoist a large amp to its spot, leaving Simon in the silence of realizing you two have no way of contacting each other. That's it. He shrugs his shoulders, brushing off any disappointment, as he's used to things falling through. Nothing's special to someone like him, or that's what he tells himself. He reaches into his back pocket and reveals a pair of underwear that had gotten tangled with his clothes when you did his laundry. He chuckles at the thought of how he would've made you think he stole them on purpose. He stuffs them back into his pocket and gets ready to perform as people start piling in the small venue.

You're nearly flooring it back to that gas station. Once inside, you leap over the counter and snatch the poster from the wall. "God damn! You could've just asked for the fucking flyer, man!" The cashier exclaims, certain you were attempting to rob the store.

"I don't have time!" You yell behind you as you sprint out the door. "Old fuckin' Mill building? Where the fuck is that?" You mumble to yourself, frustrated. You read that Psyops isn't set to play for another 30 minutes, so you speed around town to every old and decrepit site you can find. Four failures before you find the warehouse hosting the show tonight. "Finally!" You slam the van in park before bolting to the door.

"It's $10 to get in," a nonchalant man at the door huffs. You shove the money into his hand and he opens the large, black, graffitied door behind him. You're not shy in a crowd, so when you hear the boisterous speakers blasting the sound of guitar riffs through the building, you start shoving. The vibration sends the decently sized crowd into a wave of cheers and you finally make your way toward the front. You can hear a voice over the speakers, Simon. It's hard to make out what he's saying, but once the song starts, the crowd starts moving.

You're being jostled around for most of the set. Song after song, you try to force yourself to the front, but to no avail. Finally, once Simon takes one step off the slightly raised platform on which they're performing, you can reach him. His grip is white-knuckled around the microphone, now's your chance. You lunge forward and wrap a hand around the mic, pulling yourself forward. Confused and annoyed by the sudden tugging, Simon pulls back, effectively breaking through the wall of people blocking you. The moment your eyes meet his, under his ski mask, he grins. In the moment bringing you before him, he'd missed a few bars of the song, but effortlessly picks back up once you're front and center.

It feels like his eyes are locked on you for the rest of their set. You hate to admit it, but it's a hell of a show. The energy of the crowd, their presence on stage. No wonder Simon feels so strongly about it. He's a different person when he's John Q. An alias you found out about when you were seniors, and you hoped staying quiet about it would've shown him you weren't the snitch, but instead it took a coke bender several, several years later. Plus, he wasn't much less of a loser than you were. Who fucking cared back then that he has a stage name?

After Psyops' set, you and Simon slip outside for a smoke. Riled up from the show, he's too abuzz to make sure his face matches the angry stare he usually wears. "Someone said you were headed home already, didn't think I'd see you at a show any time soon," he says, lighting a cigarette.

"Said I would," you echo his words from his promise to back you up next time you got yourself into an altercation. "Can't let fucking John Q. be more trustworthy than me." Simon laughs at the mention of his stage persona. "I like the mask, though."

"Oh, yeah? That do somethin' for you?" He teases, reaching into his pocket for the mask, but pulling out a different wad of fabric. "Oops," he laughs, dangling your panties in front of you.

"Is that my fuckin' underwear, you god damn pervert?" You curl your lip, put off by the invasive behavior.

"They might be yours, I don't know. I get a lot pussy." Simon smirks with his eyes darkened on you.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck-" you're ready to lay into him, too violated to make any excuses despite how attractive he looks with messy hair and drying sweat.

"Calm the fuck down, they got mixed up with my shit when you washed my clothes at your house," he laughs. You roll your eyes and jump to grab them, but he's too quick. You miss the swipe and are now a great deal closer to him. "I'm gonna hold on to these," he says with a low voice as he scoops you against him with a hand placed on the small of your back. A second passes like an eternity and the two of you lock lips as he stuffs your underwear into his pocket again, allowing some of the silk and lace detail to hang out. As the kiss deepens, his hands move down your body, to your thighs before he grips your ass roughly. Soft moans escape against his lips as he gropes various parts of your curves.

"Do you know how worked up you get me?" He whispers between the press of your kiss. "Thought you left before I could get a taste." He reaches for your eyelet belt, but you stop him.

"Someone's gonna see us."

"Call it an encore," he mumbles before going back at your belt, but you swat him away again.

"At least take me around back, dumbass." You grab a fistful of his shirt and nearly drag him around the corner. It's dark and concealed from any passerby. He lifts you up onto a pad-mounted transformer and wraps your legs around him, still moving his head in sync with yours as each of your tongues explore each other's mouths.

"I guess I was kind of a prick to you back in the day, huh?" He whispers, running his hand through your hair.

"You were an angry piece of shit, yeah. We fuckin' or having a breakthrough?"

"Shut the fuck up for a second," he snaps. "I'm trying to apologize." He slips your denim shorts off your legs and all but falls to his knees in front of the large metal, green box you're sat on. His nimble index finger hooks around your thong and pulls it to the side. You barely have time to process what his "apology" will be before he plunges his head between your thighs. You fight to stifle a surprised moan as he conducts his skillful movements against your sensitive skin.

"Simon, oh, my God!" You whine, arching your back against the friction. He laughs against your skin sending waves of vibrations through your legs. One of his hands is occupied holding your panties to the side, the other is hooked around your hip, holding you securely in place as he meticulously works you over the edge.

"You want me to stop?" He asks, lips framed with drenched facial hair.

"No! No, I-" he cuts off your plea, resuming his position.

"Then stop fighting me," he snaps, harshly pinning you to the metal with the hand he had hooked on your hip. The stimulation quickly builds up, becoming too much, too quickly. You throw your head back and tangle a fist in his hair as he guides you through the high. Your legs shake and threaten to close around him, but his grip is too strong. You remain exactly where he wants you until you've ridden out your orgasm. You're slumped back on your elbows with your head down, breathing heavily as you return to reality.

Simon towers over you where you lay, staring down at you with his dark-circled eyes. You look up and watch him teasingly wipe his mouth, licking his lips like you're the first thing he's devoured in months. He slips your shorts halfway up your legs for you, leaving the rest of the work for whenever you can feel your legs again. "Um," you sigh. "Apology accepted."

"Tits."

"Is 'tits' good?" You furrow your eyebrows. He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"You're leaving tonight, huh?" Simon lights a cigarette.

"Well... That's the plan." You feel a pit in your stomach when you think about going back home. The place is nice, it's far away. It's what you wanted, but life is full and meaningless. You don't have friends out there, it didn't strike you how hard it'd be to meet people in your mid 20s.

"You don't sound so sure about that plan, Y/N." He exhales a cloud that illuminates under the street lamp's orange glow.

"It's boring out there, but it's quiet. It's peaceful. My parents aren't in my ear telling me trying something new could kill me." You shrug.

"That's why you're running? Because of your frigid bitch mom and dad?" Simon laughs as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"Okay, well. You know, maybe don't call them that or I'll lay you the fuck out, but yeah." You stand and fasten your shorts and belt, knees still threatening to buckle. "You had a hand in me leaving too."

"I know, I apologized!" He gestures to your trembling legs and you laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," you wave your hand at him. "Where'd you go? I was in town for weeks. I thought you were in the pin."

"I didn't want to overstay my welcome," he chuckles. "Or watch another fuckin' 80s movie with the volume on ten." He turns to look at you and he smirks.

"Well, my parents are in town now. I still have the rest of this week off. I was gonna spend it getting unpacked, but-"

"Fuck that. Let's go, you're driving." He walks off around the building toward the parking lot and you're dumbfounded for a moment.

"Of course I'm driving, it's my van!" You scramble after him. He hops in your passenger seat and you pull out of the lot, leaving his disgruntled band mates to pack up their own equipment. "You're not gonna help them?"

"What for? My shit's in the van. It's a microphone."

"Yeesh, sorry. Forgot you're actually kind of the worst when your head's not between my legs," you tease and Simon can't suppress a smile. As you cruise down the dark road, bright blue lights ignite in your mirrors. "Fuck. Get it the back." Simon wastes no time, he throws himself in the spacious rear area of the van as you pull over. You both wait anxiously for the cop to approach the window. Everything feels silent, until you finally hear the footsteps.

"I'm gonna run," Simon whispers, hand on the rear door latch.

"Don't." You demand sharply, rolling down your window for the cop. The air feels still and tight. It seems like it takes hours for the cop to speak, but when he does it's a routine traffic stop. He asks you if you knew how fast you were going and you innocently explain the floating nature of your speedometer. The officer laughs when he reads your ID and sees your last name.

"You're Frank's kid, right?"

"Yeah, his one and only." You beam, proudly. Happy to name drop your wealthy family.

"You just try to slow it down and tell your dad I said hello, alright?" The cop taps your door twice and sends you on your way. As you pull off, Simon peeks out from under the blankets and sighs with relief.

"Holy shit, with the way this thing looks, you should've been strip searched." Simon tosses himself back into the passenger seat.

"Don't shit-talk my van," you hiss. Simon proceeds to tell you where to go, each turn and shortcut, until you reach a large white house, almost as status defining as your parents'.

"My parents are out of town." He points to a concealed area to park and leads you to a basement door. He fights with a key for a moment before leading you inside. It's a messy basement room with red walls and posters from ceiling to floor. Instruments take up most of the space, aside from the bed.

"Do you avoid your parents like me, or do your parents avoid you?" You ask, bluntly, not considering the weight of that question.

"Both, I guess." He says after a long pause.

"You... Wanna smoke?" You ask, unsure how to navigate the silence.

"Can't. Fucks with my motivation," he grins. You shrug, rolling and smoking a joint by yourself while Simon works on some songs. He's got an ear for every instrument in his room, and he layers them over each other, creating complex instrumentals. It's nice to listen to while you lie on his bed and watch the swirling tendrils of smoke twist into the light and air above you.

"It sounds nice," you hum, settling into the cozy divot in the center of his mattress-on-the-floor.

"Write something for it," he commands, tossing a notepad and pen at you.

"Like lyrics? Why?" You stare at the blank page, unable to read the layers and layers of writing indented into it from Simon's heavy, angry hand.

"You need an out, I'm giving you one." He leans back in the rolling chair he resides in, staring me down like a hawk.

"I don't think I'm a very musical person. I think I'm more of a doodler, really," you argue, scribbling in the corner of the paper.

"Just fuckin' write something down and stop being a pussy." He snatches the pen from you and tosses it onto the pad.

"Bitch- How does that make me a pussy?" Your eyes narrow at him.

"It'd be too vulnerable. You're no tougher than that kid you were in high school. It's all fake now." It's clear he's taunting you. Making a fair attempt at reverse psychology.

"Fuck you, give me a minute," you huff, writing a line or two to start with. "Play your shit again." And he does. Restarting the instrumental he put together just for you. After a while, you've written something and you sling the notepad at Simon. He takes a moment to read through it a few times, almost trying to decode the melody of how I'd sang it in my head.

"Perfect. Now sing it." He nods toward his microphone stand.

"Fuck's sake, dude. Are you serious?" You whine, pushed further and further out of your comfort zone.

"Come on, let's see what you got," he says in a tone that lets me know I've already lost the argument.

"It doesn't feel good to be vulnerable to you."

"Tough it out." You roll your eyes at his demand, but you do it. You tough it out and recite your song over the music he provided. He hits 'restart,' and then 'record,' and then he points to you. After a measure you begin to sing. Low effort, but still angelic. Your song is about the feeling of being homesick no matter where you end up. It's about running and putting up a face as a defense mechanism. It's about wearing a mask.

When you're done singing and the music fades out, Simon slides the headphones off his ears. "That... Was tits." He looks elated. Like a poor painter with a new pallet.

"Is 'tits' good?" You ask again, emphasizing the lack of answer last time you asked.

"Yeah, 'tits' is good." He grins. "That was good."

"Fuck you. Who's not vulnerable?" You curl your lip, clearly more moved by the challenge than the release he was offering. Simon just shakes his head.

"Let's mix it." He beelines for the computer and begins fine tuning the song. You're watching in awe of his quick skill at this craft. As if watching him play all those instruments wasn't impressive enough. The night grows older. Simon offers you your favorite party favor, but you're over it. So the two of you share a joint.

"You don't ever get tired of living in a circle?" You ask through a cloud of smoke.

"A fuckin' circle?" He looks at you.

"Just, still in this town, still avoiding your parents, still making music alone in your room."

"Fuck," he huffs, offended but acknowledging the truth in your words. "Do you ever get tired of running from it?"

"Touché." You bring the joint to your lips as you lie in his disheveled bed. His arm snaked around you ages ago, slowly pulling you closer and closer to him. Like he's worried you'll float away.

"If our only two options are run away or get sucked into this shit hole of a town, I think we're a little fucked, don't you?" He chuckles to himself.

"Maybe those aren't the only options. We just don't have all the answers yet. I don't think anyone does." Your voice is wistful and quiet. You can feel Simon's eyes on you, but you stare at his dark ceiling. He rolls his eyes at your corny words, but he knows you're right. "It's funny, because if I could run from the uncertainty too, I would." You giggle, aware of your vices and poor coping skills.

"Yeah, you would," Simon mocks.

"And you? You're just going to live with it? Sit right beside the discomfort and accept that for yourself? Have you ever tried to give yourself more, even if it meant running?" You're slowly building up a sense of passion behind your words and Simon just listens, staring deeply into your eyes as you speak. Suddenly, you're cut off when he wraps a hand around the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and the two of you melt into each other.

You can't even remember what you were saying, you just know you don't want to stop touching him. The heat of the kiss begins to swell as Simon's hands trail up and down your body. He's grabbing at you in a specific order, like he's been waiting to get his hands on it. Really get his hands on it. You grasp at the hem of his shirt, tugging in semblance to take it the fuck off, and he does.

His broad, pale chest rises and falls with anticipation as you strip off the same article of clothing. "Jesus Christ," he moans, pulling you to him to shove his face directly between your breasts. He breathes deeply, taking you in. With one swift motion, he's hoisted you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. Simon unfastens the button on your jeans before tossing you to the side to undress you.

You're both naked and greatly anticipating the next moment your skin will touch. Seconds feel like hours until you're pressed against each other again. Simon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he guides his throbbing erection to your entrance. You're squirming and arching beneath him, and he releases a breathy laugh as he watches you writhe. "You're aching for it," he groans.

"Fuck you," you hiss, pulling him closer to you by his shoulders. All he does is chuckle before slowly slipping inside you. You moan loudly as you adjust to his size. Something about a lanky, dead-eyed man. His pace is steady as he rocks his hips against yours, picking up speed as you gush around him. Soon his thrusts are hard and rough, and your loud, vulgar moans echo off his bedroom walls.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he huffs, pulling out of you and tossing you aside. Simon quickly repositions you in front of him, on all fours. You let your back arch naturally, putting on a bit of a show for him as he watches you. His eyes are darkened and his smirk sends chills down your spine. You can't help but smile wide in excitement. With two round hands, he grabs your waist and positions you at the perfect height. His hands wander the soft flesh of your ass as you press up against him. "You drive me fucking crazy..." He sighs as he slips inside you.

Simon digs the tips of his fingers into your skin, pulling you against him with every violent thrust. You do everything you can to contort your body to give him more of you. He throws his head back, falling into a sloppy, unsteady pace. His breathing is wild and primal all the way up until the point of climax. You release a loud, fluttering moan as he fucks you through your high, quickly withdrawing to finish on your back and ass. You're both breathless for a while, the room is silent but for the sound of your lungs filling and deflating.

Simon climbs off the bed, but you're too fucked out to even raise your head up to watch where he's going. Moments later, he returns, towel in hand. He cleans you up and lands a hard smack on your right ass cheek. The sound is thunderous against the silence. You yelp and break into quiet chuckles.

Finally, you have the strength to roll over. You sit up against the mess of pillows that became a sort of headboard for his bed, feeling beautiful and bare before him. It's a nice feeling that you're not used to. Sure you've had your flings, but it's never occurred to you how quickly you tend to leave or cover up after. Not this time. You're both fully exposed and Simon's eyes drink you in, one last time before he speaks. "Don't go back." You stare at him for a long while, silent.

"I won't," you gasp, surprised by your own promise. As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. In the next few days, you quit your job and Simon rides with you to go back and get the most important of your shit. The rest goes with the trailer when you sell it. You don't run a single thing past your parents and you don't tell them you're coming back to town. It's a new sense of peace and adventure, though it feels like abandoning your old life.

After a month of van living, you and Simon get an apartment and constantly receive complaints about the noise, but nothing stops the music overflowing from your floor of the building. A new sense of bliss. It's comfortable now.

[spiderman2-99]

✨:guilty-Gabriella

[5.20.2022, TRN-1042]

Gabriella had been… unusually sullen in the car ride after school today. Today was PTA meeting day, and one of the discussions was about some C’s in certain classes. The teacher told Miguel how he could help, that otherwise his daughter was a treat to have in class, etc etc., sometimes kids just struggle with some subjects. Miguel understood just fine, promised that he'd help, reassured that it was just a monetary setback, all that.

But Gabriella had been sulking in the passenger’s seat the whole ride home. At best, she’d give monosyllabic answers to Miguel if he asked anything— a far cry from the usual ball of energy he'd come to know and love over the last couple months.

She curls up a little in the seat, her forehead leaning on the glass of the window, arms crossed. She looks… disappointed in herself. Or apprehensive, maybe? Miguel won’t claim to be emotionally intelligent, as much as he tried to be for Gabriella’s sake. He never had to be until Gabiella. Shock. He still has so much to learn. Too much to learn.

He swallows thickly before finally breaking the heavy silence that descended upon the car ride.

“Gabi,” he begins, his voice gentle yet firm, "something's clearly bothering you. You've been silent since we left school. Is everything okay?"

Well. That was a lame start that, as expected, didn't get an answer beyond a half-hearted shrug. Dios en el cielo. He really doesn't want to pull teeth.

"Is it... about the C’s in your report card?"

The last sentence makes her wince slightly. So that was a yes.

(Miguel can't stop the awful thought of what if the other Miguel yelled at her about grades? He has to physically shake his head slightly to clear it.)

She shifts a moment in her seat. “I know, I’ll study harder…” she murmurs like she’s preparing herself for the gallows.

Miguel lets out a sigh through his nose. He isn't entirely an idiot, he figures it's more than just the report card— or maybe something so pressing that it's causing the slip. The problem is trying to get to it delicately; which is much more difficult than it should be for him. Being... soft, gentle, paternal just doesn't come naturally for him. He never had that sort of role model, and now he's flying blind in a life he stole, at any moment about to ruin it, and the sweet little girl that came with it-

Okay, no, no. Breathe. Get your head on straight, O'Hara. You're better than that.

“It’s not just about the grades, is it?” he urges. “There’s something else bothering you, and I want to know what it is."

He risks a sidelong glance. She has to know he's serious. "I’m here to listen, Gabi. I promise."

“I dunno… it’s kinda dumb, but…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Miguel can see Gabriella sit up straight, hesitating, trying to collect her thoughts. He won’t rush her.

“You’ve been forgetting a lot lately. Like… remember when I told you about Emily’s birthday? I’ve been friends with her forever, but you had to use a GPS to find her house. And sometimes I’ll tell you about something we did a year ago, and I can tell you’re trying to act like you remember but you don’t. And when we visited Abuela, you acted weird around her, like you didn't know her at all.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. His daughter, his beautiful, wonderful, smart daughter, noticed the discrepancies between him and the man he’d replaced; the gaps in his cover. It was only a matter of time before she put the pieces together.

"You've been forgetting events for school, and getting lost in our own city, and when tío Gabriel visited, you couldn't even keep up with the conversation he was making 'cause he was bringing up things you didn't remember..."

Then, Gabriella turns to him and gives him a look with those big, watery hazel eyes that makes him want to throw himself off a cliff. “Did you get hurt at work, Papa?”

...

Well. Maybe a little more time.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his fingers clenching the steering wheel tighter. "No, sweetheart, I didn't hurt myself at work," he reassures, but the lie tastes bitter on his tongue. "It's just..."

“Something complicated again?” She interjects, going back to looking out the window.

Miguel grumbles in frustration. He should’ve realized his daughter would be just as much of a smart-ass as him. "Yes, mija, it's something complicated. But I promise, I'm handling it."

'Complicated' is an understatement. It’s a whole paradox, a breach in reality, a cosmic crime against nature. He hates not being honest with her, but how the hell is he supposed to say ‘your real father is dead and I replaced him’?

God, he's a coward.

Miguel would give everything, anything, to make sure she’s okay through all of this. But the more time passed, the more he knew he didn’t deserve to be her father. He isn't her papa. He could never be.

"It’s nothing you need to worry about, okay?” he continues through the lump in his throat. “It’s something... something only adults have to deal with.”

"Everyone always says that; it's always something 'only adults deal about'," she retorts, glowering at her father. "It's affecting me too, but anytime I ask—"

"I can't tell you, okay?" he snaps, his voice strained; the tension rising between them as foreboding as storm clouds in the horizon. He has to take a deep breath before he continues, forcing a calmness in his voice. "I can't. Please, you have to trust me. It’s- it's for your own good, mija."

"And that's another thing they tell me; it's aaaalways 'for my own good'-"

"Gabi..."

"-but how can I trust you when you don't trust me, huh?"

"Gabi."

"When you're acting all weird and not telling me anything anymore and-"

"Gabriella Angela O'Hara."

She winces and shrinks back into her seat. Christ in Heaven, this is going all wrong, and it feels like all Miguel can do is watch it happen.

"You think I don’t want to tell you?" He continues, grinding his jaw to keep the rising anger out of his voice. The last thing she needs is his anger. He can't act like George O'Hara. "You think I want to keep you in the dark? Do you think I like hiding things from you? I’m doing this to protect you, because..."

Miguel's words trail off. He can’t say ‘because I’m not your real father.’

Baffled, hurt, she presses on. "Because what? You- you think I'm too stupid or something? I can't handle it?"

Christ, isn't that a wonderful, ice cold jolt to his already frayed nerves? "No! No, it's not that! You're not stupid, you're the most brilliant, amazing child I've ever met."

He swallows hard. The lump in his throat feels like a brick.

"It’s not that I think you can’t handle it, it's that you're still just a kid! And you shouldn't have to handle it!"

Gabi lets out a long groan, slumping her head against the headrest, but seems to drop the subject.

Momentarily.

Long enough to lull Miguel into a false sense of security. Long enough for him to pull in their driveway before he hears--

"Still get to feel it all go to shit though," grumbled under her breath; only audible due to Miguel's enhanced hearing.

He kills the engine and just... sits there a moment; the silence thick and oppressive, thoroughly killing any semblance of energy he had left. The language suddenly doesn't even feel worth reprimanding.

Slowly, he turns to look at her. His daughter. His sweet, beautiful, brilliant baby girl. The only thing left in the world that is truly good.

I'm ruining her.

Then again, he ruined her the second he inserted himself into a life that wasn't his. He should've known this charade would blow up in his face. God knows he can never have anything nice without having to fight for it; tearing into it with his teeth and shocking it all up from his own desperation.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, pained.

"Gabi," he begins, his tone heavy with a mix of guilt and frustration. "I... I'm doing the best I can. I'm trying."

She doesn't even look at him. "Not trying good enough."

Shocking hell. Out of all the things she could inherit from her father, did it have to be his bull-headedness and the ability to cut where it hurts? It's bad enough on him, but when it's someone else? When it's the truth?

He has to fight the urge to snap back, to say something he’ll regret, to prove his own inadequacy correct. Instead, he closes his eyes and takes a breath in an attempt to collect himself.

Operating word being 'attempt'.

Bile still leaks into Miguel's voice as he grates out, "Get out and go to your room."

"What-" So now she decides to spare me a glance.

"Get out," he repeats, low and deliberate, "and go to your room. I don't- I can't be with you right now."

The pause that follows as his words sink in isn't just pregnant; it's straight-up post-due with a necrotic placenta and a calcified fetus.

The words are already out; no taking back even if he felt they deserved to be. Gabriella's expression morphs from horrified to disgusted to a sort of passive anger.

Finally, the silence is broken by the sound of her seatbelt clicking. Then, "fine. I don't wanna be with you either," followed by the car door slamming.

There's no parting barb, no further vitriol thrown at him. Maybe there should've been; there'd at least be some sort of outlet for Miguel to let out his metric shitton of pent-up frustration and sheer, utter rage. They'd both deserve it then.

But there is nothing.

Just a broken, run-down, irreparably shocked up man trying to pretend to be a father; the role fitting him as good as if he'd skinned his alternate's face and wore it on top of his own. Why did he bother? Gabriella doesn't deserve her life being ruined by a genetic abomination from another world deluding himself to be something capable of loving.

He slumps his head against the steering wheel and screams.

[akirathedramaqueen]

CBT and Exposure Therapy: Blitzø Showcase

An important (really, don't skip) disclaimer

If you are contemplating whether or not you would benefit from any kind of therapy, consider consulting with your medical provider first. While I did my best to validate all the points made using publicly available resources, I am not a medical professional. At the very least, I strongly advise that you do your own research and not take some amateur's opinion about a character from a silly demon show for granted.

"Everyone in this show needs fucking therapy STAT!"

We hear fans screaming into the void every now and then. Me too. I plead guilty and I willingly put myself in custody. But I am not taking these words back.

Especially often it is being said with Blitzø in mind, who, as hinted earlier and clearly shown in the latest episode, Ghostfuckers, is not doing okay. Not in the slightest.

Which is . . . yes. Indeed, trauma-ridden Blitzø is a major problem for both him and those around him. Yes, we see him reaching his lowest point now exactly because he left these gaping wounds untreated for so long.

But the tricky question is—how, though? What to do? Will a good talking to a confidante help? Or, maybe, some kind of shock would snap him out of the spiral?

I've been pondering on this topic for more than 4 months, and, as the Ghostfuckers came out, I finally got all the data I need to prove a point. The show did all the job for me and effectively made Blitzø go through improvised versions of two popular therapy techniques. And, before I even start, I want to say—I am so glad with what we ended up with. What they did, and, more importantly, didn't do, aligns well with how it would likely happen in real life.

So buckle up, and let's see where it gets us!

Therapy # 1. Cognitive-behavioral therapy, or CBT

This is, in essence and with some corrections, your good old talking. Here you can find more information about it, so, if you're not familiar with the topic, I recommend following the link first.

But, very shortly: CBT is an extremely common approach to be tried while you're dealing with anxiety, depression, and a number of other mental disorders. What it aims to do is to help you get past unhelpful thinking (distortions) and learn not to act on it.

Looks like it fits the bill, right? Blitzø has a lot of issues with self-fulfilling prophecies, infuriatingly stupid assumptions, poorly thought-out actions . . .

But he's not like, you know . . . w-we're not, like . . . we're not doing a . . . w-we . . . what's betw— It's a transactional fucking, you see.

If you don't feel like coming, that's OK! I'm sure I can do without it for one month. :)

Stolas only cares about having a rugged peasant raw-dog him into his matress! It's nothing, ya know . . . it's nothing else.

You . . . no longer have any obligation to see me, to touch me, to bed me . . . You are— you are free of me.

He sees things which aren't truly there.

It's not Stolas giving him space after the disaster in the 'Ozzie's.' It must be Stolas not needing him anymore, getting tired of him.

It's not Stolas caring about Blitzø. He is a royal, why would he care how an imp's day he happened to be fucking was?

It's not Stolas setting Blitzø free and putting an end to a problematic transaction they had with the hope for it to grow into something more. It's him getting rid of Blitzø.

As a result, he ends up hurting himself and the relationship he had with that one sad gay bird he happened to fall deeply for but literally trashed in his own house twice, acting on nothing more than frenetic fear of losing Stolas, but in reality, driving him away even more . . . for good.

I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this every time, like you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as important!

Ha! I'm right, aren't I? You get off getting plowed by people you look down on!

And I can sorry more people, everyone but you! 'Cause I don't owe you dick! Everyone, but you . . .

So, the case's closed? Let someone—say, Millie—talk to him and tell him how wrong he was about himself and the others?

Well, here's the thing. Despite him being infinitely wrong about Stolas's intentions, we can't deny the fact that every one of his beliefs was not, in fact, a distortion. It'd led him to wrong conclusions, yes, but it was built on the information he received and legitimate experiences he had in his life. Here are only some of the facts connected to only this situation with Stolas, but there are other problematic behaviors and other reasons for him acting the way he does.

Fact # 1. The circus fire did happen, and Blitzø was the reason for it. Unintentional, and of course it wasn't his fault, but it still ruined the lives of many people—him included. Blitzø cannot act like it never occurred.

Fact # 2. Hell is divided by class and race. Their situationship with the grimoire was an embodiment of that inequality. A lot of Blitzø's outburst during the Full Moon and later in the Apology Tour was connected to it, to his beliefs that Stolas is the same as the rest of the privileged circle. Beliefs, I stress, justified by the real world. Stolas is more of an exception, and even then, his behavior is only different when it comes to Blitzø. He still acts the same toward other imps.

Fact # 3. We knew about Stolas's intentions all along, but before that fateful Full Moon, what Blitzø saw was Stolas avoiding him and not communicating the issue the Ozzie's date had raised. And before Ozzie's? Stolas did act entitled and inappropriate. He was baby-talking to Blitzø and used derogatory terms while addressing him. The dude literally called him an impish plaything in the Truth Seekers.

Fact # 4. Blitzø's heavily implied (though not officially confirmed by the show) existing conditions—ADHD*, BPD**, PTSD, and dyslexia/dyscalculia***—do affect his life, and while Hell seems to be somewhat receptive of neurodivergence, he still has to deal with it every single fucking day. He is going to be avoidant and afraid to be abandoned at the same time. He is going to hate himself. His learning disabilities are going to make his life harder. No way around it.

Note: *, **, and *** contain links to separate meta-analyses from @timkontheunsure and @tealvenetianmask about the respective conditions and how they show themselves in Blitzø's case.

And my beef with CBT here is exactly that. CBT's goal is to gaslight you into believing your distortions hold no water and suggests you just ignore them. And, as I've shown with Blitzø, these reactions and assumptions aren't baseless. They are legitimate, and, in fact, sometimes help to get by. Even though it's a crooked crutch, you can't learn to walk properly by just throwing that crutch away. You're still going to limp, and oh, will it be painful.

This is oversimplistic and dismissive. Anxiety and depression don't come out of the blue, and with mental disabilities, it's even deeper. The class/disability stigma is alive and strong, and just slapping a "you're fine" bandaid on your traumatized self isn't going to help.

Therapy # 2. Exposure therapy.

Exposure therapy is another approach commonly used while dealing with traumatic past and its aftermath—PTSD, anxiety, phobias, and such. Again, if you're not familiar, there's the link for you, but very shortly—the therapist puts the patient in a safe environment and 'exposes' them to the feared object in question for limited periods of time. The goal is to eventually get rid of the targeted fear and decrease avoidance.

And Blitzø has got some phobias for sure.

The fear of letting everyone down. Again.

And the fear of abandonment. Again.

All of it is a result of self-hatred, sitting so deeply it rules his life and his vision of how others perceive him. Said it himself. Almost.

So, where and how does the show expose Blitzø to his traumatic past?

First, the most recent, and the most obvious one—Rolando and his slideshow of all traumatic events Blitzø ever had in his life.

Second—Blitzø's drug trip in the Truth Seekers. While it does not contain the events of the past as they were, it does force him to face his fears.

Are you worried I might have enough of it one day as well? . . . You're going to die alone! . . . You're going to die alone, Blitzo!

With some stretch, the third one is Verosika's 'Blitzo sucks' party. Where Blitzø was forced to see the consequences of his avoidance and rejection.

Note: to be clear, I do think the party does not show the true extent of Blitzø's actions and how much he'd hurt people. It was exaggerated by Verosika, and here I explain why this is the case.

So, what gives? Or, rather, what gives it not?

It might sound funny now, considering I brought it up myself, but I, once again, say this is not therapeutic, just as CBT kind of 'talking.' If anything, all these three events did more harm than good.

The D.H.O.R.K.S.'s goal in the Truth Seekers was to torture the information out of Blitzø. He was not supposed to overcome it. He was supposed to crack.

The Verosika's goal was to ruin Blitzø's reputation. She was working her ass off to prove he's just a heartless freak.

The Rolando's goal was to fucking kill Blitzø.

And okay, their motivations had nothing to do with helping him, but maybe it did, in its own twisted way?

No. The writers added this to push Blitzø past the breaking point, not to heal him, and to show us more of his lore. Each time he was forced to face his past or fears or consequences, he was only spiraling more.

The only thing which did him some good was . . . well, Millie finally seeing his bravado mask falling off. But the cost of it was way too high. Not worth it.

To the therapy's defense, some points why it would never work in the way it was done in the show:

Blitzø had never given his consent and was not ready to face it. I might be very rude right now, but go and try producing some explosion-like sounds in front of war veterans without letting them know first and see what happens.

The amount of fearful experience exposed was way too overboard. He couldn't possibly digest it in a healthy way.

The environment was not safe. It was straight-up retraumatizing, an intentional one.

So there's that.

But what helped then?

We've briefly brushed over the fact Millie did talk to Blitzø. While I did imply this might be an example of CBT, here are some key deviations from the classic therapy which made all the difference.

Millie didn't sugarcoat all the shit Blitzø did. He was hurting their business. He didn't pay her. He was reduced to Bethanie. It showed her opinion can be trusted.

Millie apologized for not being there for him sooner. She admitted she relied too much on Blitzø being bulletproof, unbothered by everything. She admitted she didn't support him in a way he always did.

While proving she could never hate Blitzø, she used their common story, one he knows and can recall. She used evidence to prove him wrong, not a "it's all in your head" bandaid. And more than that, later she proved it with action—not for one second did she believe Rolando and his shittalk about what Blitzø supposedly was thinking about her. Her unwavering faith spoke more than any words ever could.

Getting back to exposure therapy . . . Metaphorically, she reminded Blitzø he can handle a beating or two. And physically beat the infestor demon out of him, which, as we can see later, didn't really affect Blitzø that much. He wasn't even battered. So, apparently, when the said exposure is done by someone who genuinely tries to make you feel better and knows your limits well, it might just work?

And finally, Millie acknowledged Blitzø's pain. She didn't brush it away. She validated him.

What all of this is about?

Like every treatment, too much of a medicine can become poisonous. So are CBT and exposure therapy.

They might help, and lots of research shows they do in certain cases. But there are limitations to what they can and cannot achieve, and they have to be adjusted to each individual story, to each trauma, and they should not be applied as a way to mend the outcome of the trauma without taking into account the story it comes with. Again, legitimate concerns and experiences cannot be brushed away or ignored.

Actualy . . . we've seen where it leads in the show too. In the beginning, Millie was quite dismissive of Blitzø's worries—all of this over a . . . breakup?

And here it comes full circle.

Only when Millie started taking Blitzø seriously, did it help them progress. And look how quickly we've switched from a complete despair to a glimmer of hope! Isn't that a beautiful closing scene?

As a closing note—we do not need to 'fix' Blitzø. After all this shit he went through, there won't be a day where he wakes up and be like, "Hey, I don't hate myself anymore! And look, I'm not afraid to be abandoned or misunderstood!"

I'm sorry to break it to you, but this is a lifelong battle. Being mentally whole, healthy, and constantly happy is no more than a myth, and everyone has their own demons and skeletons to deal with.

What Blitzø needs is some good support system to pull him back when he's down.

And boy, do I hope that one particular owl will fill in that role of unyielding pillar for Blitzø each time our lizard will fall into that pit again. Look, I love Millie, but there's only so much she can do. She can't be always present, she has her own life . . . and her own disaster of a husband to look after (affectionate <3). Here and here @lost-romantique talks about Stolas's capacity of loving, with me occasionally nodding, ha-ha. But to be short—it's fucking immense. And since he loves words, I do believe he has all the energy to tell again and again and again how awesome Blitzø is. Even if Blitzø wouldn't believe it himself.

[pubbamoon]

Planetary Joys

Hello! It's me again! I hope you are doing well and if you're not, then I hope it will get better. Inspired by the one particular comment from one of my recent posts about the astrology misconceptions, I want to make a specific post about planetary joys this time. The point of this observation is to explain you why planets find their joy and function well in some houses. I hope you're gonna like it.

Firstly, I want to introduce you the Hellenistic astrology a little bit. Hellenistic astrology is a tradition based in the late Hellenistic period. The practice of this tradition started in the 2nd century BC in Mediterranean Basin, but it was mostly practiced in Egypt. The whole point of Hellenistic astrology is to describe someone's canon events and to predict what is probably going to happen in someone's life through someone's birth chart, not only to describe the person's personality and psyche. Hellenistic astrology is basically like a traditional tropical astrology, meaning that there's only seven planets present in every birth chart (from Sun to Saturn) and we use the Whole Sign system for houses. Forget about the asteroids (Chiron, Lilith, Ceres etc.) here in Hellenistic astrology. We use Hermetic lots in this type of astrology instead. But that's whole another story. In Hellenistic astrology, there's a thing called Planetary joys, meaning that planets find their joy in certain house and that's going to be the theme of this post. So, let's finally get into it!

Sun in the 9th house: The planet Sun finds its joy and functions very well in the 9th house. Both the Sun and the 9th house represent spirituality. The Sun represents pure intelligence, the knowledge we naturally have, which we didn't gain in school and seeing things as they really are. The Sun is a luminary, representing the light which lightens the day. The 9th house represents higher education, wisdom, religion, knowledge etc. Since the 9th house is connected to the Sun, the planet that represents light, father, authority, norms and how things should be, the 9th house is associated with the spirituality we seek beyond and the type of spirituality which is widely accepted, such as Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam etc.

Moon in the 3rd house: The planet Moon finds its joy and functions very well in the 3rd house. The Moon is also a luminary which represents the light and seeing this clearly. But, since the Moon lightens the night it's possible that there's hidden aspects or area of this planet. The 3rd house also represents spirituality, just like the previous house, but the 3rd house is mostly related with the type of spirituality we seek within and that is not very mainstream or widely accepted, such as magic, witchcraft, wicca, palm readings or even Tarot readings. The 3rd house also represents cousins we may not be aware of their existence. Have you ever heard that almost every celebrity from Hollywood has a 11th or 14th cousin, but they don't know that they're actually cousins? Although the Moon represents the light, it can also represents something hidden or uncertain in our life, as it illuminates the night.

Mercury in the 1st house: The planet Mercury finds its joy and functions very well in the 1st house. Mercury represents communication, unpredictability, adaptivity, logic, chaos, contradictory and it functions well in both day and night, while the 1st house represents the life itself. Communication is the key everywhere in life. In astrology, we interpret both the cosmos and the human's life. Mercury is the planet that is associated with astrology the most, because in astrology, we describe the movement of celestial bodies, interpret the planets, houses and aspects together to make predictions and give guidance. Mercury represents multitasking, doing everything at once and is the messenger in Roman mythology. Life is life a wheel of fortune, it is very unpredictable, chaotic and sometimes it doesn't make any sense. And if you wonder which planet represents the unpredictable area of your life where nothing makes sense, that's Mercury.

Venus in the 5th house: The planet Venus finds its joy and functions very well in the 5th house. Venus is a benefic and a positive planet, representing fertility, creativity, giving birth to a new idea or a life and the area of our life which favors us or works out in our favor. The 5th house is one of the most positive houses and is connected with Venus because the 5th house represents good fortune, privileges or good things that happen in our life, such as good circumstances, good health, wealth, children, fame etc. Having the 5th house placements might indicate being in a privileged positions, enjoying the life, going into great schools, having a nice car, being lucky that you don't have to work, doing something that fulfills us, having children or even getting the princess treatment.

Mars in the 6th house: The planet Mars finds its joy and functions very well in the 6th house. Mars is a malefic and a negative planet, representing war, violence, labor, taking forced actions, commanders, danger etc. The 6th house represents slavery, hard-work that leads to nowhere, misfortune, working class, challenges, bad things that happen in our life, bad circumstances, bad health etc. Having the prominent 6th house in our birth chart may indicate taking forced actions we don't want to take, but we don't have other choice, like working 9-5, getting a credit to buy a house, paying bills and something similar. It can also indicate going to not very nice school, having a bad car working a job that drains us and that we hate. Unfortunately, that's usually a story of almost every normal or average person.

Jupiter in the 11th house: The planet Jupiter finds its joy and functions very well in the 11th house. Jupiter is also a benefic and a positive planet, representing, luck, abundance and the area of our life that works out in our favor. It also represents the faith, morality, churches, schools, universities and all of the places where there's a lot of people coming together. The 11th house is one of the most positive houses in astrology, representing the success, victory, gains, good spirit or good things that happens in our mind. Jupiter is related to the 11th house because the 11th house represents the privileges in our life and the people that helps us to achieve our goals because they want us see succeed. Jupiter represents collectivity, while the 11th house represents friends and that's another reason why they're connected.

Saturn in the 12th house: The planet Saturn finds its joy and functions very well in the 12th house. Saturn is the most distant planet from the Sun, representing darkness, isolation, losses, marginalized people, outcasts, death and ending of a cycle. When there's the darkness, we cannot see things as clear as they are. The 12th house also represents isolation, losses and marginalized people who don't have a community, since the 12th house hides behind the 1st house which represents life. Having the prominent Saturn or 12th house in someone's chart might indicate someone feeling melancholic about their own limited life. That person may feel like a outcast or that they don't belong anywhere. It's a lonely path if you have the prominent Saturn or the prominent 12th house in your birth chart. There's a lot of mental battles coming with these placements, since the 12th house represents mental health.

Well, I guess that might be it. I hope you learned something new today. Keep in mind that this observation is related mostly to Hellenistic astrology. I don't think it is going to work in modern tropical astrology or even in vedic/sidereal astrology. Anyways, I hope you liked it. Have a great and successful week ahead!

Best regards,

Paky McGee

[suchawrathfullamb]

Sure, there you have it:

HOW TO GET THE HANNIBAL LECTER AURA

Another analysis of energetic configurations and practical advice on how to embody the vibe.

The first thing to understand is that we analyze the energetic components of characters based on the actor's charts, because if we look at life as one big play, and theater/film being a micro reflection of that concept, then the director or creator of the movie/play/show acts as a god, casting a specific actor for a specific role. Therefore we do not need to know a fictional character's date of birth or anything of the sort, as the actors are always being cast in characters that mirror the spiritual stage they embody.

Mads was born under an energy known as Vishakha.

Vishakha is linked with dual deities Indra (the king of the gods and god of thunder and rain) and Agni (the god of fire). This duality embodies a push-pull of desires, ambitions, and transformations.

The potter’s wheel, a symbol of this nakshatra, illustrates the crafting of raw material into a finished product, the process of refinement through fire and effort.

Vishakha’s energies are often described as unstoppable once focused on a target, much like Indra’s lightning or Agni’s fire. This nakshatra often embodies an intense focus, sometimes to the point of obsession, in achieving its goals.

Just as a potter needs patience and precision to create pottery, Vishakha nakshatra’s myth conveys the importance of perseverance.

Like Indra, those influenced by Vishakha often have a strong desire for success, social recognition, and accomplishment, which is something we see clearly in Hannibal.

This constellation is ruled by Jupiter, the guru or teacher in Vedic astrology, and symbolizes wisdom, higher learning, and the search for truth. This planetary influence on Vishakha reflects a higher purpose in its ambitions — not just worldly success, but the pursuit of knowledge and self-improvement.

This Jupiterian desire for wisdom manifests in the nakshatra’s ability to endure trials and persevere through obstacles. Vishakha natives often undergo intense transformations, using their experiences to cultivate inner strength and insight.

The nakshatra’s focus on achievement is not merely for material gain; it is often coupled with a sense of idealism, where individuals feel drawn to accomplish something that resonates with their personal beliefs and sense of truth.

With Jupiter’s guidance, Vishakha’s ambition takes on a visionary quality, pushing individuals to set high standards for themselves. This can make Vishakha natives inspirational to others, as they seek to embody principles that resonate with the people around them, often motivating others to pursue their own paths.

Jupiter here manifests as a desire to help others, serve a greater purpose, or guide others with the knowledge they’ve gained. Vishakha individuals often feel compelled to share what they’ve learned, finding meaning in using their journey to inspire or empower others, which is essentially Hannibal's arc as the master, searching for worthy concubines to share wisdom.

In terms of personality they rarely show reaction, and are rarely stirred up or impressed, and are skilled at acting more pleasant in social situations.

They tend to remain under control at all times, and they only lose this pose when they feel they are failing at something.

They are often found at the top of the social hierarchy.

Because Jupiter represents excess, it often causes these individuals to experience frustration due to the necessity that we have of giving up excess to achieve liberation, so they often have a very good nature but also have a tendency for aggressive behavior. Which leads to them sometimes throwing everything they accomplished away in a strange way, which we do see with Hannibal in Season 3.

And because Jupiter's chakra is the throat chakra, they carry a lot of power in what they say and in general people can sense that and tend to just obey them.

They don't struggle to fit in because they do not care to do so, and this is obvious and causes that perception of ferocity and confidence they exude.

Mads expression number is 6, derived from 15, which is the energy of The Devil (what Mads and Bryan always say Hannibal is), and The Lovers.

The Devil representa trials and tests. Temptations and seductions. Magic. Disorder. Chaos. Passion. Lust. Dependence. Exchange, eloquence, mystery, emotional strength. And The Lovers is a mirror card to The Devil, and it's about chaining, combination, balance, embrace. Fight, antagonism.

The mantra to embody this vibe is Strim. It grants power. Strim (pronounced ‘streem’) contains the Sa-sound of stability, the Ta-sound which gives extension, and the Ã-vowel that provides energy, direction and motivation. It is connected to root meanings such as to stand, to spread, to take a step, to rise or traverse from one level to another. The mantra Strim provides the power of the Divine feminine (Stri-Shakti) to give birth, to nourish, to protect and to guide.

Strim is the seed mantra of the Hindu Goddess Tara (not the Buddhist Tara, who is a different deity). Tara is connected to Durga, who is often called Durga-Tara, as a protective and fiery form of the Goddess. She is the high priestess and represents the inner knowledge and the insight of the guru, particularly the power of the Word. Tara controls the weapons of the Gods.

[meteor752]

can we have more details about hermes x Odysseus? Please ~

More than happy to dearie

(Also you didn’t need to send the ask twice lol)

Since Ody is technically Hermes great grandson (*cough cough*), he’s known about his general existence long before he met him on Aeaea. He didn’t care that much about him tho, cause like if he gave a shit about every mortal offspring he had then he literally wouldn’t have time for anything else.

Still, hearing that Athena herself had taken an interest in one of his? Fascinating to be sure. Not enough to start giving a shit, but still, fascinating

And then, Poseidon. Hermes was of course the first to hear the news that Poseidon had attacked and killed over five hundred Greeks over one slight, and you know he spread that gossip to the rest of Olympus like fucking wildfire. But still, that makes two gods (one of which a member of the big three) that has taken an interest in some way in Odysseus. So it might be time to investigate

Hermes finds him and the remainder of his crew having washed up on Aeaea, which tickles him a bit. One of Athena’s “warriors”, seeking refuge on Circe’s island? Interesting choice indeed.

But Hermes takes his time to indulge in one of his favourite pastimes, spying on people. And sure, Odysseus does his fare share of moping there on the beach, but to the messenger gods surprise, despite all of the man’s losses, he takes action almost immediately, ordering some other guy to go scout out the island. And even though Hermes loves watching Circe trick and hex people, he doesn’t leave to go check that out. He stays, watching the mortal go about.

Hermes also takes the time to truly take notice how handsome the man is. He has a slightly short stature and lean build, just like any descendant of his, but he seems to have not let that stop him as he moves about with confident elegance. His hair is much darker than Hermes own, and despite being ruffled and damp from the sea water, the messenger god can see that it’s well cared for. Most of all, he takes notice of the mortals eyes, a deep rich brown, and despite the weariness and paranoia to be found in them, he still sees a small twinkle in them, a light that has not yet been snuffed out by his uncle.

Hermes could have watched the man for hours if he so desired, and so was a little pissed off when the other man from before came running and interrupted them.

But it was through that that Hermes got a chance to see another of Odysseus strengths, his way with words. Despite the frankly idiotic decision to land on Aeaea, the messenger god could clearly see his sister in the way he spoke. He was even more intrigued by the things he was saying, showing loyalty and honour, despite having a chance to escape the situation. Hermes himself never cared much about loyalty, but the fact that the mortal is willing to risk his own life and safety for his crew? He can’t help but be impressed

Until he realises that yeah his new favourite mortal is most definitely going to fucking die if he doesn’t do anything, so, he gets involved.

And if he’s a bit extra giddy when Odysseus says his name, if he flirts a little more than he usually does, if he holds him extra close when they dance, well that’s only for him to know.

Hermes keeps spying on Ody even after Circe, even going so far as to follow him to the underworld. Usually when mortals have extreme breakdowns and cursing the gods out, Hermes finds it kinda funny. It’s a good show. But, when his mortal does it (Because that’s what he is. He’s not Athenas, or Poseidons, he’s his. It was Hermes who saved him from Circe, it’s Hermes who’s keeping an eye on him, hell he would never have been born if it wasn’t for Hermes), it’s way less fun, and just upsetting.

Hermes keeps keeping watch as his mortal keeps getting worse. The sirens, Scylla, his mortals crew turning on him, Hermes witnesses it all. As much as he’d like to assist in some way, he was already in trouble with Zeus for his intervention on Aeaea, and that had been a pretty minor thing all things considered. Despite everything that occurs, he still sees that same twinkle remain in his eyes, that same light that Hermes treasures so.

Still, it was hard to not get absolutely pissed when that other man stabbed his mortal.

When Zeus got involved with his mortal and struck down his crew, Hermes lost sight of him. The messenger god spent seven years scouring the ocean for any trace of the king, but to no avail.

When he’d searched every single corner of the earth, Hermes through in the towel and finally did what he really didn’t want to do.

He asked his sister for help.

Despite how much it upset him, Athena had actually formed a divine bond with Odysseus, which made her capable of tracking him.

And find him she did. On Calypso’s island.

Fuck.

Luckily, Athena wanted him freed too, so Hermes didn’t have to grovel to Zeus himself. He would have done so if needed, but having Athena do ir for him was easier on his pride.

And he was more than happy that that was the case, as Athena got a lightning bolt to the face, and Hermes got the job of retrieving his mortal.

He’s never been as excited as he was, travelling to Ogygia, past the veil keeping the island hidden from the outside world. And, maybe he’s a little gloaty when he tells Calypso to release his mortal, but it’s difficult not to be. The goddess has spent seven years thinking that Odysseus belongs to her. Laughable, truly.

Hermes has spent years thinking about his mortal, missing his elegant stride, his beautiful hair, his lopsided cocky smile, his eyes. Yet, when he first get a look of him again after so many years, building his sad little raft, it’s nothing less than painful.

Because he’s wrong. The paranoia has settled in, making him jumpy and uncertain, and while his time on Ogygia had made him altogether more healthy, it was in a way that just didn’t fit. He looked almost uncomfortable in his own skin as he moved. And worst of all, his eye twinkle had all but vanished.

But all of his upsetting feelings vanished the second his mortal laid eyes on him, and his smile shone brighter than Apollo himself.

Hermes stayed by his side as long as he could warning him both about the dangers ahead, but also drinking in every moment his mortals attention was on him.

But even still, he eventually had to depart. He knew his uncle was waiting for a final chance to finish his mortal off. If Apollo was to be believed, Odysseus would survive the encounter, somehow, but that didn’t stop the rising anxiety Hermes felt as he said farewell to his mortal, taking his leave with a soft kiss.

~~~

I have many thoughts on Hermes, my favourite Greek god (Not my favourite overall god tho, Idun my beloved <3). Mans is most def extremely Not Normal about poor Ody, who did not ask for all this attention from the gods.

I do also imagine most gods to be extremely possessive, and do not like sharing, so Hermes isn’t too fond of the fact that like five other gods are vying for Odysseus attention.

He remains silly tho, stalker tendencies and all

[eternalera]

discussing project 2025 and how it will most likely NOT affect ao3

tw: p0rn mentions/discussion

ive seen some news in the past few days about something called project 2025 and how it could result in ao3 being taken down because theyre trying to limit pornography and theyre classifying the lgbtq (or trying to) as part of that content.

people are afraid that because of this ao3 might be taken down as a result but here's why it most likely won't and you don't need to worry to much (but should still be cautious just in case). from my reading of the situation theyre mainly focusing on porn sites, porn hub and things like that. theyre started making it so that you have to enter in your drivers ID to prove that you are above the age of 18 so that kids and stuff dont have access to this content.

of course that itself is going to take a while because its a whole damn website, its not just in the US but it's international in itself. the programming and passing the bill will take an extremely long amount of time.

but this bill (or whatever) also violates things such as freedom of speech. writing is a form of speech and you are allowed to write about whatever the hell you want and no one is able to take that away, whether it be online or in real life and believe it or not writing gay fanfiction is a form of speech. especially if youre creating healthy gay relationships and promoting lgbtq content. the government cant just take that away because they classify it as 'porn' when its clearly not.

thats called censorship, limiting what you see so that they can control what you get fed in media and stuff like that. but not only that but if they were to do this then it would also affect sites like twitter, facebook, discord, pinterest, tumblr, literally ANY website where you can make ANY statement this would affect.

and no one is going through with that lets be honest for a second. because at that point its just controlling the internet and whats put out and what isnt. and no one can do that, at least not in america because guess what? YOU HAVE RIGHTS. and i can NOT stress this enough.

the government is NOT allowed to control what media you get fed and what you create. in fact that cant even reasonably define lgbtq stuff as porn because guess what? it wont work. people will riot, they will find a way, and yknow why? BECAUSE ITS NOT PORN.

then again you must be wondering about the explicit fics on ao3 and to that i say what about the explicit stuff on twitter? the bots on tumblr? hell even youtube.

the government cannot control all of this.

and if they were to even try i guarantee that the silly little website known as ao3 will be one of the first not even top five things that they try to target.

they'll target pornhub, youtube, twitter, literally ANYTHING before they get to ao3. and even if they do im more than certain that ao3 will lawyer up and put together a case about why they should stay in tact.

ACTUALLY if they try doing this in the slightest about ANY website that site is likely to fight back.

so while you should stay cautious i dont think any major panic is necessary. in order to take down ao3 the freedom of speech would need to be taken away in an amendment and that is not happening.

so basically, stay cautious but dont be too worried. and if ao3 does get taken down (which it most likely wont) there will probably be a set date where you can download and save everything before then

[howicked]

BBC GHOSTS (2019-) // THE CHANGE (2023-)

[edwinisms]

george rexstrew deserves awards for many things but i have to say. edwin’s bloodcurdling scream as niko gets killed deserves a whole award unto itself. like. that scream did not feel at all like a tv show scream. to a somewhat jarring degree. and i can’t express how much I respect that