#my waking world can never compare oh god

[residentsweatgoblin]

Just awoke from a dream, where we lived in a funky dystopian city deal (much like Piltover/Zaun in Arcane) and @TKAYMAIDZA was an infamous revolutionary and hacker (on top of being an incredibly talented artist and my queen forever like irl). Anyway, in the dream I got to meet her and prove myself worthy to join her band of insurgents, and I got to see her up close and talk to her directly and saw all her cool hacker gear. And when I woke up let me tell you I had to take a moment to accept the sad reality of my waking world....

#tkay maidza #dream #dream journal #singer #rapper #female singer #my waking world can never compare oh god

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Welcome To New York

Chapter Two of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley 'Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: It's been seven years since you left Pigeon Creek, Alabama. Seven long, arduous years. Just when everything seems to be moving in the right direction, a seemingly happy event makes you remember how closely the ties bind you to Pigeon Creek.

Themes: angst, love, smut, attraction

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3170

A/N: Here we go with Chapter two! It's finally time to see who Linley is as an adult and explore a little bit of her life in New York. This is also the chapter where we meet her beau! I hope you love it!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

In the seven years since you left Pigeon Creek in the rear view mirror, your life has changed by leaps and bounds. You're not sure when your small hometown went from feeling like your whole world to not being enough. You've always had dreams, and you've always been opinionated. But as you grew up, your dreams and Jake were still the two most important things in your life.

At least, that is, until one dumb decision changed your entire life and ended up losing you your best friend and first love all in one fell swoop. So you left Pigeon Creek and you left Jake behind, and moved to New York City. You lost yourself in your career, working your butt off to become a fashion designer. It’s been a long, hard road to get to where you are now, but you can’t say you regret it.

You wake up the night before your first big debut show at New York Fashion Week, dreaming of the day you and Jake were struck by lightning. You're face down on your workbench and for one short moment, you're not quite sure where you are. But that feeling fades when you see lightning through the stained glass window of the warehouse you and your team are working out of.

"Oh my god." You gather a couple of designs off of your desk before walking up to the floor, checking them for splotches of drool as you go. Your team is clustered around models, carefully measuring and finishing garments to make sure each fits their model to perfection.

"How come y'all let me sleep?" Even after seven years, you haven't been able to lose your Alabama accent. A part of you hopes you never do.

"It was only five minutes. Did you know your accent gets thicker when you're sleeping?" You roll your eyes before comparing the design in front of you to the one on the paper. You make one final adjustment to the cloth on the mannequin before accepting a cup of coffee from your assistant. With coffee in your veins, everything feels better.

"They destroyed Badgley Mischka, did you see, Linley?" You nod ruefully, sure to your bones that the same could happen to you.

As your team laughs, you can't help interjecting. "Yeah, yeah. Y'all are laughing now, but tomorrow that could be us!"

Your words are just enough to have your team erupting into activity again. You forget all about your dream, attention wholly held by the fabric which has the ability to control your entire future. If you send fervent prayers out to the Fashion Gods, Saint Laurent, Gucci and Karl Lagerfeld, your team doesn’t judge you for it. They’re banking on this collection just as much as you are. It's just after dawn when you and your team leave the warehouse. You're exhausted and run off of your feet, but you're filled with contentment at the same time. For better or for worse you’ve made something with your own two hands, a collection from which you adore every single piece. As you walk home, you're filled with a quiet confidence - being a successful fashion designer feels so attainable right now. The city is as quiet as you've ever heard it and the shops are just opening up their shutters as you walk down the street. You can actually do this! 

When you finally, finally get home, your feet are dragging. You only have the time for a quick catnap before you have to head downtown again to complete your final prep for the fashion show. Your apartment is quiet, lit only by the weak light of the rising sun peeking through your gauzy white curtains. You throw the deadbolt home and turn around, only to see flower petals strewn across the pale carpet. Your entire apartment is filled with the scent of freshly bloomed roses.

A riotous wash of colors greets you as you toe off your heels and step onto the plush cream carpet, following the trail of petals into your living room. Vase after vase of bright blooms line the tables and shelves in your living room, the delicate scent lifting your mood instantly. There's only one person who could do this for you.

Bradley Bradshaw. 

When you'd moved to New Y0rk, you'd promised yourself you wouldn't fall in love again - or at least that you wouldn't actively go looking for it. The girl you were, that heartbroken worn creature, you vowed to wipe her out of existence. So you adopted the surname Floyd along with a backstory to match and became a Linley your own father wouldn't recognize. You hadn't expected to fall in love with the New York Secretary of Housing. But under your mentor, you ran in posh circles, even before you got the chance to design your own line for fashion week, and you and Bradley had hit it off.

It hasn’t been a whirlwind romance, at least not in the conventional sense. That wasn’t Bradley’s fault either. Bradley is easy to love. It just took you a while for your brain to convince your heart that you could love him. A part of you still does a double-take when he does things like this for you. You’re still not sure you deserve the pampering, forget the vacations or the parties that you’ve been attending on his arm. It’s good for your reputation, less so for his. After all, the man once known as Rooster in the press for some less than clothed paparazzi pictures on vacation had a reputation for dating models before you.

The red light on your answering machine is blinking and you hit the button to hear what messages you have. It's Bradley's voice you hear, leaving a voicemail so romantic that were you a different, less heart-sore girl, you would have swooned on the spot. As it is, you have to lock your knees, you’re so sure they’re going to give out on  you.

"Hey, Sweetheart." His voice makes you smile giddily as you stand in your flower festooned living room. "Good Morning. There's a rose for every moment I thought of you last night. I know the likelihood that you came home last night was slim to none, so I wanted to do something to brighten your day.  I also wanted to wish you good luck before the show today. It's going to be a hit and I can't wait to see what your gorgeous brain came up with. I love you! Bye sweetheart!"

When a man does things like this for you, how could you not love him?

Mid-morning finds you backstage running around like a chicken with its head cut off. You're so nervous even your nerves have nerves. This fashion show is either going to be a success or the biggest disaster you've ever seen. You've solved about a million disasters, including a blouse that should be purple but is a mauve instead - the yellow spotlight should fix that - when you see Bradley on a video feed of the milling crowd.

He always looks so good, so put together. He's wearing a crisp electric blue suit with a Hawaiian shirt underneath it. Were it anyone else, the ensemble would look garish, but on Bradley, it looks amazing. The mustache and Hawaiian shirt are staples in New York politics at the moment. They're both eye-catching traits that Bradley's dad always, always wore when he was mayor before his death and it's a trend Bradley continued once he became Housing Secretary. Of course, just like his dad, he's also the belle of the press.

"Secretary Bradshaw! Can we ask you a couple of questions? Are you excited about the show?" Your grin is smug and a little unbelieving as you watch him schmooze the press, dropping tidbits about how you're going to knock this line out of the park.

"Please tell me he has a flaw." That sardonic, sarcastic voice? That's Natasha Trace. Both of you had come up under the same mentor, her as a model and you as a designer. She's the closest thing you have to a best friend in New York. 

"He asked to take me to Ireland over the holidays." You can't wait! You've never left the country before.

"Oh, honey, he's going to ask you to do a lot more than go to Ireland with him." She's nudging you even as the other models line up behind her.

"We'll see." You face the models. "We're going to be late! Alright ladies! It's go time!"

It feels like a dream when the curtains come down and the standing ovation rings through the hall. You take a few minutes to clear away your mascara tear trails and to re-apply your lipstick before heading into the crowd. You're immediately mobbed by your friends and industry contacts.

When you see Bradley standing behind the photographer taking pictures of you and your models, Tash included, you're immediately moving through the crowd and launching yourself into his arms.

"Bradley!" He's smiling that grin you love as he wraps you up tight in his arms. The scent of his cologne surrounds you as he holds you tight, holding you up before he lets you drop back onto your feet. 

"Oh sweetheart, congratulations!" You can't hide your ecstatic grin as you stay in his arms.

"Those flowers, Bradley? They were absolutely gorgeous! How did you do it?" You're a little giddy and out of breath just at the sight of his smiling face.

"I just wanted today to be perfect for you, sweetheart." You smile up at him in thanks before pulling away, just a little, your hands still in his own.

"So? What did you think? Do you think the critics will like it?" You can't hide the doubt in your tone.

"Oh, Lin! They're critics. They even hate themselves." His words should comfort you, right? Instead it feels like Bradley's not taking your concerns seriously. But you chuckle it off.

"Well, excuse me, Mr. Bradshaw! I wasn't born with thick skin like you." You're grinning just a little as he smiles sunnily at you.

"That's one of the many reasons why I love you, Sweetheart." His hands cup your face as you rise on your tiptoes to peck him chastely. Of course, right as you're about to pull Bradley over to introduce him to the girls, he's saying his goodbyes.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I've got a meeting across town. But I'll see you tonight, yeah?" At your confused look he continues. "You remember, we have that thing at Lincoln Center?"

That's when you remember, the thought hitting you like a sack of bricks and thoroughly deflating your happy little hot air balloon.

"Oh, right!" You smile wryly at him. "The fundraiser! For your mom! That's tonight."

"I'm afraid so. I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. I love you! Congratulations!" You wish you could say that this is the first time Bradley's had to dip out early for a meeting, but you would be wrong.

You can't help but dwell on it when James, Bradley's personal chauffeur picks you up to take you to the fundraiser a few hours later. Is this what life is going to be like? Feeling like you're never at the top of his mind? Never his number one priority? Sure you get to enjoy perks like chauffeured cars and going to fundraisers and galas, wearing designer brands and diamonds on your neck, ears, and wrists, but are those perks worth never being his top priority? You're jerked out of your thoughts when the car stops and James pulls the divider down.

"His meeting's running a little late. But Mr. Bradshaw wanted me to take you inside so you wouldn't have to wait in the car."

"Where are we?" You don't get an answer to your question. James leads you through a side doorway and a series of plain white-walled hallways.

"He shouldn't be too long, miss. Just go through here." If you didn't trust him with your life and know that Bradley did the same, you'd be a little worried.

There's another suited man waiting at an open door. "Won't you come in, Miss Floyd?"

You walk past his outstretched arm into another bare hallway. But this one has Bradley on the other end of it.

"So, have you decided?" As happy as you are to see him, you can't help feeling just the slightest bit of whiplash.

"About Ireland, sweetheart. Just you and me and a couple hundred of our closest friends and family." You feel even more confused now than you did earlier.

"A couple hundred - Bradley what's going on?" The entire time he's been confusing you, he's led you into a cavernous room.

At a signal you can't see, the lights flicker on, one by one, illuminating shelf after shelf of sparkling jewels. Pretty stacks of robin's egg blue boxes are artistically arrayed to the sides, all bearing the mark of Tiffany and Co.

"Oh. My. God." Your words are a little strangled as you take in the plethora of shiny gems.

And then he gets to his knee right in front of you.

"Linley Floyd. Will you marry me?" Your brian short circuits at his words, an irrational sense of panic clouding your vision.

"A-are you sure? Are you really sure you want to marry me? We've only been dating for eight months!" You're babbling, trying desperately to make sure he's making the right decision while making sure you're making the right decision.

"Of course I'm sure, sweetheart. You know me. I don't make rash decisions. And I don't ask questions I'm not sure of the answer to. So at the risk of being rejected twice, I'll ask you again. Will you marry me?" 

This time, your mouth kicks in before your brian does. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" You're both smiling and laughing as he twirls you around in a circle.

"So pick one." There’s laughter in his eyes as he follows behind you as you try on ring after ring, all in your size. Each is beautiful, but you know each is also more expensive, costing more money than you’ve ever seen, more money than you’re sure you’ll ever see. It’s almost a relief when you pick the simplest one, a band with a singular clear cut stone embedded in it. But your left hand feels heavy in the car afterwards as James drives you and Bradley to the Lincoln Center. 

You can’t name the feeling in you right now. You should be feeling happy and excited. A part of you is giddy and ebullient. But more than that, you’re confused. But you can’t let Bradley see how you feel. So you kiss him softly, relishing in the feeling of his mustache across your lips. As you sink into the kisses, your earlier exhaustion dissipates like champagne bubbles. The divider is up and it feels like you and Bradley are the only people in the entire universe that matter right now.

"I've been planning this for a long time, sweetheart. I knew your show would be great and it'll be great to tell the whole world at the fundraiser tonight, right?" Your stomach lurches a little at the thought.

"I can't wait to see my mom's face when I tell her that we're engaged! Let's call your dad, sweetheart!"

You shock yourself with how fast you snatch the phone out of his hand - he isn’t able to type in more than a single digit.

"No!" You chuckle a little sheepishly. " I mean, um. I haven't seen my dad since I left Alabama. I really should tell him in person. He raised me all by himself and he deserves to hear it from me in person. Please?" You pull out your biggest, best puppy eyes and pout just a little. As always, it works.

"Of course, sweetheart." His sigh is fond as he takes the phone back. "I love that you're that close to your dad."

"Um.. there's one more thing, Bradley." At his nod, you continue. "I think I should do it alone."

"Baby, you know I'm going to have to meet my father-in-law eventually, right? Hopefully before the wedding?"  Now he's looking at you like you’re crazy.

"I know, Bradley. But we've got plenty of time for that, right? And I know my dad will love you!" You cup his cheek gently with your left hand.

"It's 'cause I'm a Yankee, right?" 

You crinkle your nose fondly before leaning in close enough that each word has your lips brushing against his. "Well, it's that and 'cause you're a Democrat." 

You're both giggling as the car pulls up in front of the Lincoln Center. Before you get out of the car, Bradley turns the ring so the stone is in your palm.

"Mum's the word, sweetheart. Just for now." 

The minute you step out of the car, you're bombarded by questions, flashes of light from countless photographs and what seem to be a hundred calls of your name. At the end of the runway is who you would classify to be the epitome of the Wicked Witch of the West, if only the Wicked Witch of the West were less green.

Carole Bradshaw is the current Mayor of New York, ex-First Lady of New York City, and 100% sure that nobody can run her son's life better than she can. So she butts into nearly every part of your relationship with Bradley. He manages to wiggle away by finding a colleague he recognizes. But that leaves you right in her clutches as she pulls you into a hug and takes both your hands in hers.

"Oh, darling, I hear fantastic things about your new line."

You babble your thanks, but you know exactly why her expression changes. Her vice grip on your left hand would hurt if you weren't wholly preoccupied by the cold sweat covering you from head to toe.

"What is this?" She hisses, "Bradley, why is Linley wearing a skating rink on a very important finger?"

She doesn't even notice you trying to tell her to keep it quiet, because all of a sudden she's screaming the words, "You're engaged?!", for all the press and fundraiser guests to hear.

That's when you know you have two huge problems. One, your engagement, your supposed-to-be hush hush engagement is going to be all over the news, you're sure nationally. Everybody will know that Secretary Bradshaw is engaged to you. The second problem? It's that you've never told anyone that you had been married once before. That you're still married, actually. 

It's with a heavy heart that you book the first red eye to Alabama in the early morning hours after the gala. How the hell are you going to get Jake to sign the divorce papers without him finding out that you're engaged? Can you get the divorce processed before Bradley comes to meet your dad? More importantly, are you ready to face Pigeon Creek again?

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@sarahsmi13s @atarmychick007 @the-romanian-is-bae @lt-spork @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @praline357 @seitmai @cheyrenee @trickphotography2 @abaker74 @marrianena-library @angelbabyange @temptest13 @kmc1989 @im-an-adult-ish @chaoticassidy @inkandarsenic @lynnevanss @shanimallina87 @khaylin27 @mizzzpink @emma8895eb @hookslove1592 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @thedroneranger @roosterforme @dakotakazansky @cherrycola27 @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #sweet home alabama #a top gun au #star's sweet home alabama top gun au #jake hangman seresin x oc #hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc

[lavendertales]

Sweet lies: Chapter 7**

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

summary: getting that voice message from you is the last thing Frankie needs on his mind. As it turns out, it completely messes up his intentions.

word count: 4.1k

WARNINGS: cunnilingus, male masturbation, piv (safe).

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

Comments & reblogs are always appreciated 💕

gif: @javier-pena​ 

series masterlist | AO3

A headache replaces your usual morning alarm. You wake up confused, a little sweaty too, one eye open, the other one shut. You check your surroundings: you’re in your bed, the clothes from last night thrown carelessly on the floor.

You rise halfway, daring to open the other eye, and the headache worsens somehow. You realize it’s Saturday, and you couldn’t be more grateful at this very moment. You get to lounge and nurse your hangover today, and that is all anyone could ask for right now.

The phone on your nightstand reveals that it’s 10:31 a.m. You think that you should at least nibble on something before taking something for the pestering headache. The only thing you can digest right now is some toast, so you practically crawl your way into the kitchen to make just that. Your phone rings incessantly, the sound earning a loud grunt from you. You grab it from your nightstand, pleasantly remarking it’s Rose. You couldn’t handle anyone else today.

“You’re alive, that’s a good sign,” you say.

“Alive might be an overstatement.”

“You’re the one who said we were gonna get drunk last night.”

“You agreed to it.”

“True. But you knew what you were in for. You know you’re lightweight compared to me.”

“Oh, please, you had two extra cocktails, big deal.”

“How are you doing?”

“Well, I’m under my blankets with a big cup of coffee and ready to pop pills like the world ends tomorrow. Which, based on my headache, it might.”

You chuckle, putting the phone on speaker and placing it on the table as you start buttering your toast.

“How are you doing?” Rose asks.

“Pretty much the same as you. Making some toast and ready to pop every headache pill in sight.”

“Ohh, some toast would be nice.”

“Come over and I’ll make you some.”

“But I’m all snuggled up!”

You laugh, triggering more of your headache.

“Oh hey, do you remember me talking on the phone last night?” you ask.

“Uh… I remember me talking on the phone. Oh, right, fucking work called.”

“It’s so weird, I feel like I’m the one who did the talking.”

You struggle to recall what you did specifically, but it all comes in patches, nothing short of blurriness.

“Oh hey, seems I called Frankie last night,” Rose says.

“You did? Why?”

“Honey, I don’t even know how the hell I managed to take my clothes off before getting into bed and yet I left the boots on. So unfortunately, I got no clue as to why I called Frankie.”

Something clicks in your head, and you gasp out loud. A clear picture forms in your mind, and you remain in shock.

“You didn’t call him,” you mutter. “I did.”

“What?”

“Oh God. Oh no, no, no.”

“Why did you—“

“I thought your phone was mine! I—I was drunk, I was scrolling and… I don’t know why I called him! This is why we never drunk dial!”

“I’m so sorry, I—I would’ve stopped you if I was there.”

“I know, I know. This… this isn’t on you. This is my fault. Just the call, not—“

“Not what?”

You falter, shutting your mouth just in time. You take a deep breath, trying to recall more specific things.

“What did you guys talk about?” Rose asks timidly.

“We didn’t talk. I… left him a voice message.”

“Saying…?”

“Saying… that he owes me an apology for the way he left. And… and that he should make things right.”

The second secret you are now keeping from Rose. It’s starting to bottle up, but you still don’t feel ready for that little shameful thing to come to surface. Best you deal with it quietly.

And what you need to do, as fast as you can, is sort things out with Frankie.

“Can you text me Frankie’s number?” you ask Rose. “I need to call him.”

She coos your name, softly yet sternly, and you huff.

“I do actually need to talk to him this time,” you say. “I’ve sobered up, and I am ready to face the consequences of my actions.”

“Fine. Just—be careful.”

“Why?”

“Because, honey, you’re about to have a big conversation with the man you’ve described as the love of your life, who so happens to be engaged. It’s dangerous territory. Not just for you. For anyone with feelings.”

You inhale, realizing the truth behind her kind words.

“It’ll be fine,” you reassure her and yourself simultaneously. “I don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize his relationship with Andrea.”

“Good. Call me whenever it’s done.”

“I will. Now go eat something. Love you.”

“I will. Love you too.”

You wait a decent amount of time before your headache has subsided, going through all of last weekend’s events, as well as last night’s. You slowly start to remember every word you’d drunkenly told him, and you feel yourself falling apart. The more you stare at Frankie’s phone number, the larger the pit in your stomach is. There’s no liquid poison in your system now to give you courage, so you just gotta do it.

You exhale loudly, ready to call, then you hear the doorbell. You grunt, rushing to go to the door so you can dispose of whoever it is.

Then, as you answer the door, your heart stills.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, stunned.

Frankie stares you down, munching on his lower lip, clearly upset. “Asked Pope for your address. Figured we should talk face to face.”

“Sure. Come on in.”

The minute Frankie crosses the threshold into your apartment, there’s a knot in your throat, persistent and painful. You observe him from afar at first, watching him pace around the living room, hands on his hips. Who knows what’s in his head, how nervous he is. You know he got your message, and now you are waiting for the inevitable explosion.

“We said we’re just acquaintances,” Frankie grumbles, facing away. “That voice message was anything but that.”

“I was drunk! This is why we don’t let drunk people dial! And Rose should’ve been able to stop me, had she not taken a work call when we were binge drinking. Which now, as I’m saying it out loud, might’ve been a ruse so she could have sex phone with Santi.”

Frankie makes a grossed out face, and then it hits him.

“Rose and Pope?” he asks under his breath. “You mean, you two aren’t…?”

You scoff, growing more and more upset. “No, you moron! No, we’re just friends, we’re close friends like you and I were before you decided to just walk out on everything we had!”

“I didn’t walk out, okay? It’s more difficult than that.”

“Then help me understand! Tell me something useful, something that might explain to me why you destroyed our friendship, and why you broke my heart. Explain it to me, Francisco.”

He falters, his nostrils flaring in anger and disappointment. At himself, at his stupid actions, when all he should’ve done is talk to you, communicate.

Words cut deep though, they carve wounds that may only scar. Yet now, with this wound, it feels like you are both picking at the freshly created scab, rubbing it furiously and pouring alcohol over it.

“How could you say those things to me?” Frankie suddenly asks, and it’s picking at the scab even more.

There is so much anger building up inside you once you hear him say those words with such bold audacity that it makes you see red.

“How could I?” you retaliate. “You really wanna get into a ‘how could you’ game?”

“You know what? I really do. We’re having the conversation, now.”

“Okay, fine. How could you kiss me? Why?”

Face reddened with the shade of regret and shame, Frankie simply stares at you, his mind involuntarily replaying that damned kiss in his head, along with the night the two of you said your goodbyes and he practically begged you to stay.

“Why, Francisco?” you repeat.

“Why do you think?” he grunts, almost as if in pain.

“I can’t let myself think about that. It’s wrong.”

“I didn’t say it was right. But I did it because I wanted to. Deep down… I wanted to.”

There you have it. The most visceral, unexpected and wild response you could’ve ever gotten. It’s very flattering, and it shouldn’t be.

“How could you just end our friendship? How could you just walk away after everything we’ve shared?”

“You were leaving and we agreed we were great as friends.”

“But then you left me anyway, and that’s a load of crap! It’s what people tell each other to make themselves feel better about their stupid, cowardly choices! Guess what, nothing in my life was better after that! I’m not one of those girls whose world revolves around a guy, but losing one of my best friends was horrid. I left abroad and I was miserable for a good portion of my studies because I kept wondering what I did wrong, what could I possibly have done differently and I hated that. I hated how much you made me second-guess my own worth. I swore to myself that no one would ever do that to me again, and here I fucking am, going through it all over again. And because of you, again!”

Frankie stares at the floor, smiling to himself in frustration.

“It wasn’t you,” he mutters under his breath.

“Excuse me?”

“It wasn’t you.”

You chuckle mockingly. “Great, here comes the ‘it wasn’t you, it was me’ speech.”

But Frankie’s anger merely simmers beneath the surface. There is more to it, boiling underneath, and has been for a while. None of it is about you, though. It’s about the unfair and cruel choices he’s made, and how he forced himself to be the better man and make the right decisions for everyone.

Only to mess up anyway.

“It was me, okay?” he grunts, inching towards you. “I met Andrea a few months after you left, we became friends and—“

Your chuckle turns into a manic laughter, paralyzed by your own disappointment.

“You cut me out of your life because you’ve made a new friend?” you say as acidly and mockingly as possible. “Really? Are you fucking kidding me right now? That is the lamest, stupidest, most hurtful—“

“I had to cut you out of my life because she’s not you!”

The way he’s shouting, it’s filled with pain and betrayal, betrayal from his own self. None of this is actually because of you. He could never be mad at you, he could never hate you, and he could never fully get your out of his head.

Or his heart.

“I had to do it,” he continues, eyes dark and apologetic. “And I had to do it because… you were following your dream, I couldn’t fucking stop you from doing that. You’ve always wanted to study abroad, it was your dream.”

He makes a disapproving noise, resuming his pacing around the living room.

“The night we met, when you told me you got into Cambridge… you’ve never looked so happy, so accomplished. And I was so proud of you, so damn happy for you, I swear I was. But that night…”

You hear his voice break in the slightest, and it aches you, for reasons you know damn well, and for the same reasons you’re struggling to keep it all bottled up inside, deep, deep down.

“What?” you ask, nearly pleading, and it aches Frankie just as much.

He inhales profoundly, reminiscing of that memory. “That night, when you told me you go in and that you were moving away… I was going to tell you that I loved you,” he confesses. “I asked you out so that I could tell you that. And then you broke the news and… I couldn’t stop you from following your dream. Even if all I wanted to do in that moment was to tell you that I loved you and that I wanted you to stay. It would’ve been selfish. I’ve actually wished you would’ve never gotten into that college, just so you could stay. It scared the crap out of me to acknowledge that I could be so careless and cruel that I wanted you to fail, just so that I could have you there with me, with all of us. And I know that what I’ve done instead isn’t any better and I am truly so, so sorry for hurting you, but… at least it offered you the space to be the best.”

You stare at him, utterly bewildered. You wanted the truth and now you’ve got it. You just didn’t think it would be this painful, this eye-opening. You hadn’t expected it to cut you so deep, and you certainly hadn’t expected it to make you question your very own morals.

“You… you really were coming over to tell me that?”

His voice is small and fearful as he replies, “Yes. I was.”

He’s standing so close to you now, it’s like his presence is invading all of your senses. It’s like you’re full with him, like he surrounds you in ways you would’ve never thought of as possible.

“Look, Andrea is not you, okay?” he resumes, staring at you with big, puppy eyes. “She could never be you, and… I couldn’t spend the rest of my relationship wondering if I made the right choice.”

“Did you?”

“We’re engaged. Or… we were.”

The moment the words roll down his tongue, in such a blunt and almost careless way, you can’t help but stare at him in shock.

“You were? What happened?”

You gulp, fearing that this isn’t about you. You hope and pray that it’s not about that hasty kiss you shared with Frankie, or the voice message, because you know you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you were the sole reason why his engagement fell apart.

“She’s having second thoughts,” Frankie replies. Fears, doubts, whatever the hell you wanna call them. So we agreed to take a break.”

“So what does that mean? Is the wedding off?”

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know anything, I just—it’s hard to tell left from right when your perfume is… all over the place. When you’re just so… soft. And you’re here and… Andrea and I can’t ever agree on a single damn thing about our future together, if there’s any at the moment. And… we’re not together right now, and haven’t really been in weeks.”

His warm breath is all over your face, so you close your eyes in hopes that if you don’t see him so up close, you won’t surrender. You hope that if you close your eyes, somehow, you’d be able to keep him away, to not listen to the pestering little voice at the back of your mind and how it makes you burn, itch, crave and yearn all at once for something you can’t have.

Something you shouldn’t have.

It still feels wrong and forbidden, no matter what Frankie says. You can feel it in your bones, in your gut, and you can’t just let it slide, not even when one of his calloused hands grazes your cheek ever so tenderly that your whole body trembles. But perhaps the forbidden aspect is what makes everything so much more enticing, so appealing in so many ways that you would never consider otherwise.

You linger with your own motions, and it’s all a dangerously slippery slope from hereon after. His forehead is pressed against yours, your unsteady breaths in sync as they become the sole sound in the whole apartment. When you open your eyes, Frankie does too, and you find yourselves staring at each other in a pleading manner. All you can feel right now are his hands on your hips, touching only tentatively, but even that is sending you over the edges of sanity.

It gets a bit blurry after that. You feel his mouth on yours again, this time in a deeper, sloppier kiss that instantly turns you both into a couple of sinners.

What’s worse, you find yourself reciprocating without much hesitation. You don’t fight it as much, even though you probably should. Truthfully, it’s been a long time since you felt something even remotely close to the way your body feels right now, and a dark side of you doesn’t want this to end.

But nothing about the way Frankie expertly presses his body onto yours feels sinful. It almost feels… natural. Like you should’ve been doing this for a long time. Greediness consumes you both as you stumble onto your bedroom, clashing on the bed with Frankie atop of you. As his mouth starts to leave a wet trail down your jaw and neck, you spread your legs, thus allowing him space to grind in between. Each touch is electric, every passing second tormenting and ecstatic. Neither of you says anything; you both want to prolong this moment as much as you can, but you also want it done fast, rough and messy, get it over with.

You watch in a trance as Frankie’s strong arms pull down your pants and along with your underwear. The sight is making you feel drunker than you were last night, like you’re about to explode if you won’t get through with this.

Frankie’s just as impatient; he’s so hard now that he might just come in his pants like a pathetic whiny teenager at the sight of you fully on display like this. Your pussy is nearly glistening with slickness, now being completely engulfed by Frankie’s mouth. His mustache and stubble tickle you, awakening senses in you that make you think you’ve been kissing and sleeping with the wrong people all your adult life. Simply feeling him like this is enough to make you go crazy.

You could easily come just like this. It’s maddening, the sensation of sufficiency and insufficiency, both in a delicious juxtaposition with each other. Your fingers snake their way up into his hair, tugging roughly, thus earning a grunt from him that reverberates throughout your pussy. The vibration sends you in overdrive; you desperately try to rub yourself against his face while Frankie’s hands hold your thighs in place, his tongue licking furiously against your folds, his nose nudged into your clit.

The white, hot pleasure that sears through you is nearly debilitating. Frankie knows what he’s doing, collecting every ounce of arousal he can right into his mouth. You can’t help the moans that escape your mouth, and yet you do everything in your power to not moan his name. That is the one thing you cannot do. If you do it, if you allow him and yourself that… you’ll give this affair all the power to destroy you all.

Words flee from your mind. The sounds emerging from in between your legs are downright obscene, glib, but God, they’re perfect. Frankie is just as riled up, if not more; he can’t think straight anymore, not when he’s quite drunk on you and tasting you so intimately, giving you exactly what you want and need. He fumbles with unzipping his jeans, needing more. He’s so hard, it hurts to even touch the hem of his boxers. But he has to, he needs this so fucking much, it’s consuming him entirely.

When he finally curls his hand around his cock, he grunts against your cunt, probably grunting some nonsensical words too, but it’s just as irrelevant as talking at all. You trigger each other through the sounds of pleasure emanating from your bodies: you moan, he moans. You rub yourself against his face, he fists his cock faster. You’re both driven by lust, the sensation having its roots deep into other emotions as well: love, abandonment, disappointment, everything else that makes up your history with each other.

Once you come, your body seizes up, legs locked around his face while Frankie still drinks from you. He feels his own climax creeping up on him, so he forces himself to stop. It’s more hurtful than before, but if he’s gonna sin, he might as well do it properly.

He wants to feel you. Wholly, completely unbound and unhinged. So he licks his lips, taking just a fleeting second to admire you beautifully fucked out face, and how mesmerizing you are.

No thinking, he reminds himself. No thinking, no talking, just living in this immoral moment.

So he searches in the pockets of his jeans, not even pulled down properly, but just enough to allow him wiggle room to stroke himself. Alas, he finds the little pesky wrapper and quickly tears it off, placing the condom on his cock, and kneading the flesh of your thighs with tenderness before he guides himself to your entrance.

You watch in awe, your heart beating so fast with anticipation that it almost bursts out of your chest. You want to beg, to mutter something, but you fear that if you talk, it might give this moment more meaning, and you refuse to do that.

You gasp, the sound broken in tiny little pieces when you finally feel Frankie inside you. You’re both still half dressed, too eager and aware of what you are doing to properly do this, but you do know that you are solely guided by lust and forbidden love. Frankie makes a sound like he’s choking, and you can see it on his face that he’s falling apart too, perhaps much more than you are. He rolls his lips once, twice, and the way he’s sliding into you has you seeing stars.

It’s never felt this way before.

You know that it’s because of how you feel about him, but even if you’d voice that, it would be futile. The situation is too precarious already, and you can’t give this moment any more meaning than it already has.

The pace Frankie sets is slow at first, simply feeling you gush around him, warm and tight and so, so full of him. His head falls in the crook of your neck, his hair messy and forehead sweaty as he gives into what you both so desperately crave. You can feel his lips trying to pepper kisses on your neck, his breaths fast and irregular. You hold him by the back of his neck, your touch careful and sweet as he snaps his hips faster, desperate, just like the two of you. That’s just how you need it, speedy and a little bit rough. Too much regret eats you alive to not seize the moment, too many unspoken words and far too much unrequited love contained in the same place.

Frankie is absolutely lost in you, in your scent, in your taste, all of you. He is so hungry and desperate for you, all he can think about is coming. And he feels it crashing over him in no time; he spills himself inside the condom, his thrusts now sloppy as his body reaches ecstasy. His breath is harsh against your neck, his eyes dying to find yours, to gaze lovingly into them.

But he can’t. It would mean too much. It would completely devastate him if he’d do that while he came.

So he doesn’t. He looks everywhere but directly into your eyes, and you do the same. You avoid his facial expression to the best of your abilities, even though you’re already addicted to this feeling, and you suspect he is, too. But now that it’s over, now that Frankie finds enough strength to pull out of you and clean himself up before he leaves without uttering a single word, he knows this made things even worse. He knows this complicates things further, and he can’t help but think back to Andrea and her decision to press pause on their relationship and what it truly means. He momentarily wonders if she had done something similar.

But it’s too much, both reeling from the crushing force of his orgasm and how it felt to be inside you at last, and thinking about the reasons why marriage might no longer be an option. He can’t think about all of that, his head hurts as much as his joints and heart.

He does throw you a glance before he leaves, as if apologizing. You understand as much, and you share that feeling as much. If you couldn’t stop thinking about a pathetic little kiss, how were you going to be able to keep this out of your mind?

How will you—or he—be able to face each other, knowing what you did, and how much it meant to both of you?

previous | next

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fic #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales fic #francisco morales fanfiction #francisco morales smut #francisco morales x female reader #francisco morales x f!reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #sweet lies series

[froggibus]

Rest and Recovery - poly! Zenyatta & Genji x reader

Pairing: poly! Zenyatta and poly! Genji x reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: after getting hurt, Zen and Genji know just how to take care of you

CW: blood, violence, gang violence, fainting, severe injury, knives (switchblades), hurt/comfort, (fluff eventually i swear), poly! relationship (kinda)

here is my Zenji brainrot no one asked for lol. this has been on my mind for like a while but i finally got around to writing it. also have severe leon kennedy brainrot rn so there's a 50/50 chance next time i post it'll be that

————

Genji and Zen had always warned you not to go too close to the villages nearby the monastery. Though most of the locals had learned to live with the colony of omnics on the mountain, there were some who actively rebelled against them. 

Gangs pounced on any omnic or omnic sympathiser who got too close to city limits. The lucky ones came back to the monastery sore and missing a few parts, and you never learned what became of the unlucky ones. 

That’s what led the pair to constantly warn you about wandering too close. You were precious cargo, they said. They didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.  

Listening was never your strong suit. That’s how you found yourself being beaten by a few low ranking gang members.

One with dark, spiky hair spat on you. “Had enough yet, freak?”

You narrow your eyes on them. “No,” you lie. The truth is, your sides are burning and your head is spinning, but if you give in now, you’ll never be able to live with yourself. 

“That’s too bad,” another one says, his words punctuated by the distinct sound of a switchblade. 

Suddenly you’ve had enough. 

You scramble to your feet, your heart pumping adrenaline through your veins faster than you can track. The pain in your body fades as you try to run away, only for one to grab your hair and tug you into his chest. 

You kick off of him and manage to get away, but not before the switchblade grazes your side. Still, the scrape is nothing compared to the regret flooding through you. 

You run, pushing off of the pavement as hard as you can, dragging yourself back to the monastery limits. You’re barely aware of your injuries or the warm blood dripping down your side. Your only solace is that it’s just a scrape, that your injuries aren’t major and you won’t have to tell Zen and Genji about your scuffle. 

You wouldn’t be able to bear their disappointment. 

As soon as you make it to the main stretch of land, monks stare at you. You ignore their stares, limping to the temple and the rooms that reside around it. 

You stumble to your room, but as you get there, you see Genji leaning against the outside wall. “Genji?” You squint.  

“Oh my god, y/n…”

He looks horrified, dark eyes narrowed on you in surprise. You look down to where your hand has been squeezing the spot you got scraped, only to realize it wasn’t a scrape at all. 

Blood gushes from what you now see is a stab wound, pouring down your side and onto your legs. You look up at Genji, the reality setting in and bringing nothing but pain with it. 

“Wha—” you start to say, but your knees give in and the world goes dark. 

Genji catches you, your cold body falling against his. He swings your legs up over his arm, and before he even realizes where he’s going, he’s running to find Zenyatta. 

He’s frantic, tearing through the monastery in search of his master. You lose more and more blood by the moment. It pours over his clothes and down his body.

He finds him in the gardens, meditating. On a good day, he’d never disturb him while he concentrates. But it wasn’t a good day—it was the worst day of his life. 

“Master!” He calls, and the omnic’s head snaps up to see his student holding your unconscious form. 

————

You wake up warm and comfortable, almost comfortable enough to forget the horrors of the day. You blink your eyes open slowly, trying to adjust them to the light. 

Genji sits at your bedside, head in his hands. Next to him, meditating, is Zenyatta. The sight of your boys brings a smile to your face until you remember how you got injured. 

“G-guys?” You murmur, your voice hoarse. 

Both heads snap to you at the same time. 

“How are you feeling?” Zen asks. 

You shrug, “mostly good…just tired.”

“Y/n,” Genji sighs, leaning in to hug you. “What happened? How did you get so injured?”

“I-I left the village limits,” you admit, “I’m sorry, I know you guys said not to but-but I was bored!”

“Y/n—”

“Let’s not focus on the past,” Zen interrupts, shooting Genji a look. “I managed to heal, and you survived. That is what matters.”

His words don’t leave much room for interpretation, both you and Genji quieting afterwards. 

Zen rubs a hand across your forehead, smoothing your hair back. “I’ll get us some tea, okay?”

You nod and watch as he floats out of the room before turning your attention to Genji. He has his head in his hands, black hair falling through the cracks of his fingers. You sigh—it wasn���t fair for you to make him worry like this.

“Gen,” you murmur, running your hand across his shoulder. “Talk to me.”

He looks up at you with bloodshot eyes, eyebrows knit together. You run your hand up his shoulder and cup his cheek, the cold metal of his jaw warming under your touch.

“I never want to see you that hurt again, y/n,” his voice is shaking, “please don’t be so reckless with yourself. Please.”

“I promise.”

He sighs in relief, “thank you.”

You nod, reaching your other hand to intertwine with one of his. He offers you a weak smile, squeezing your hand in reassurance. Zen walks back into the room carrying a tray of steaming teacups and sets them down on the nightstand.

You can see him glance at your intertwined hands and hum in appreciation. He hands you a cup and another to Genji, and that’s when you notice the grey ball of fabric tucked under his arm.

“Here,” he notices your gaze and thrusts the fabric out to you, “you need to stay warm to recover.”

You flush slightly but set the tea down and take the sweater from him. You tug it over your head, the sleeves hanging over your hands and the fabric practically engulfing you. 

Genji looks at you and almost chokes on his tea, “isn’t that my sweater?”

“Indeed,” Zen says smugly.

“Why didn’t you get one of yours? Not that I mind but,” he gestures to how large it looks on you.

“Mine wouldn’t have looked so cute.”

If you were flushed before, you were practically on fire now. You weren’t used to all this attention from them, and certainly not at the same time. You take a deep breath and sip your tea, hoping it’ll calm your racing heart.

“Your face is so red, y/n,” Zen notes, “is it something I said?”

You want to tell him that he knows damn well it’s something he said, but Genji speaks first. “So cute,” he murmurs, using a thumb to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“G-guys!”

Both boys back off, chuckling slightly at your reaction. You squint at them, “how am I supposed to rest with the two of you teasing me?”

“Aw, y/n,” Genji coos, “we’ll leave you alone and let you rest, okay?”

He sits up from his chair and grabs his tea but you find yourself reaching up and grabbing the fabric of his shirt. “Wait—”

He turns around, Zen hovering just next to him. The sides of Genji’s mouth lift up in amusement. 

“Do you…do you guys have to go?”

“Of course not,” Zenyatta says, and suddenly he’s at your bedside and lifting up the corner of the sheets to lay next to you.

You’re so distracted by the sudden contact of warm metal on your skin that you don’t even notice Genji crawling in on the opposite side, essentially sandwiching you between them.

“Are you comfortable enough?” Zen asks.

You nod, curling up between them. Genji throws an arm across your waist and scooches closer to you, his body heat warming you better than any blanket.

“Good,” he says, “but you better actually rest, y/n.”

Your cheeks burn at the implication, but you’re too tired to make any jokes about how being sandwiched between them in bed has been a dream of yours for a while. Instead, you close your eyes and try to sleep.

#overwatch 2 #overwatch #ow2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #ow #overwatch fic #xreader #overwatch headcanons #zenyatta x you #zenyatta x reader #zenyatta #poly Overwatch #genji x you #genji x reader #genji shimada

[comshipbracket]

Antis DNI - Block the tag "comship" if this causes discomfort.

Remember, you are voting for the ship you prefer, not the ship you find more problematic

Propaganda for both ships under the cut.

Disclaimer: All ships (other than NozoCoco) on this bracket are FOLLOWER-SUBMITTED ships, the Mods do not always hold necessary knowledge to be aware of any errors or fanonizing what should be canon material that may arise.

Zackray Propaganda (MinorxAdult, Toxic Dynamic)

"Ray is a 13-year-old girl who wakes up in a weird building without memories. Oh, there are some weird killers in the building with her too. Zack is one of them and the first time they meet he runs after her with a scythe. Love at first sight <3 (/joke)

At first, her memories return and she remembers why she was in that building in the first place. With her memories back, she becomes apathetic and almost indifferent to everything.

After Zack saves her from a very creepy doctor, she turns to him and asks one thing: `Could you kill me?`. Zack is very confused, but after he realizes that he would never be able to leave the building alone, he offers her a deal. He would only kill her after she helped him leave the building. This is the beginning of their connection.

I can't give too many spoilers, but seriously, they are a duo that subverts all expectations. Although Zack is a cold serial killer and blah blah blah, Rachel can be more cursed and scarier than him. It's really funny that she spends the entire anime begging him to kill her, and his reaction every time is `Wtf is wrong with you`. And yes, Zack may be an adult, but Ray can be more rational than him and is very good at understanding things quickly. She is the one who always finds a way for them to escape the traps of the other killers in the building.

He spends the entire anime asking her to smile, because then he would be more excited about killing her, but every time she tries to smile, he laughs at her and says that her smile is lifeless (and it really is, my poor girl).

At one point in the anime she says that he is her god. It's serious. She even hugs a knife he gave to her very intimately.

He compares her to a doll a few times in the anime. It's so weird and cute <3

They're not canon, but I would argue that the romantic subtext is there. Anyway, they are weird, traumatized people who end up getting very attached to each other."

Family Rentarou Propaganda (Pseudo-Incest - Hakari and Hahari are related, Rentarou dates both. Kusuri and Yaku are related, Rentarou dates them both, Pseudo-Age Gap/Pseudo-Teen x Minor - Kusuri and Yaku both use an immortality potion making them LOOK 8, Rentarou is 16, Incest, MotherxDaughter - Hahari french kissed her daughter Hakari, Age Gap, AdultsxMinor, AdultsxTeen - Yaku is 89 and Hahari is 29 while Rentarou is 16, Nonconsensual Drugging/Nonconsensual Love Potion - Kusuri keeps doing this to Rentarou)

"The God of love in Rentarou's world has legitimately declared these are Rentarou's official soulmates. He is required to date all 100 of these girls. When he even considered cheating as an option, he beat himself up for an entire night before settling on making this a proper polycule circumstance. Even when Hakari's mom enters the polycule, the polycule still keeps going strong! He's the first harem protagonist I've ever seen who says `You know what? Let's try polyamory! That's a way better idea!` and manages it healthily

With the polycule growing strong, with this many girlfriends, you might think that Rentarou would run out of energy or time to care for all of them. He doesn't! When it comes to Hakari and Karane, he manages to please them both despite their clashing deredere and tsundere personalities and jealous attitudes. He gets them to fall in love with not only him, but it's heavily implied also with each other!

When Shizuka - a mute girl - enters the picture, he spends entire days staying up all night to transcribe every word in the book she uses as a talking tool into a proper text to speech app, despite the book not having an App Reader version yet. He even downloaded the app he made to his own phone to show it was safe to her!

He's able to understand Nano's lack of emotions and need to do everything logically, but also able to see the subtleties in her mostly neutral expression and notice when she's enjoying herself. With Kusuri, he tries to both support her endeavour of making weird and new drugs, but ALSO to keep her safe. He does everything he can to keep these girls safe.

When Hakari's mom tried to prevent Hakari from dating Rentarou, he and his girlfriends staged a girlfriend rescue mission where they'd snatch her back and find her a new place where they could be together forever, no matter how much it would end up with Hahari trying to hunt them down... only for Rentarou to find a relationship with Hahari as well, after convincing her he was right for her daughter! Hahari fell in love with his genuine and sweet way of adoring each of these girls! If I talk about the rest of them this'll become far too long, so I'll leave it here! I adore Rentarou's family. The best depiction of a polyamorous group I've seen in any media, despite all it's wonks."

#comshipbracket #antis dni #antis do not interact #comship #comship safe #proship safe #comship bracket #comshipbracket3 #comshipbracket 3 #comship bracket 3 #comshipbracket3 round 1 #comshipbracket 3 round 1 #comship bracket 3 round 1 #Zackray #Rachel Gardner #Ray Gardner #Isaac Zack Foster #Zack Foster #Angels of Death #100Kanojo #The 100 Girlfriends who Really Really Really Really Really Love You #Family Rentarou #Rentarou Aijou #Hanazono Hakari #Inda Karane #Yoshimoto Shizuka #Eiai Nano #Yakuzen Kusuri #Hanazono Hahari #Haragi Kurumi

[deviljesterlamb]

Asmo on my mind...Like always. 💕

But listen...

Asmodeus is the Avatar of Lust, yes...But imagine this...You lust for life and living...

Asmodeus learns what you truly desire and lust for in your life, is more than just shows of love and affection...You desire to learn to love living and existing again. You desire to feel actually feeling loved, wanted and needed in this world. You desire to wake up actually looking forward to the next day, than dreading it. Etc.

And Asmo plans on helping you have those desires met and more...

He'll help you find more joy in life through little things. He'll help you find love in simple tasks again to help you through the days and nights. He'll help you learn to love yourself, body, mind and soul. He'll do everything he can now to fulfill your desires. To see more life in your eyes, and to see you genuinely smile and laugh.

But if he weren't in love with you by now though. Expect him to truly fall in love with you once he sees you truly smile and laugh. And if you happen to be the type to tear up from laughing too much, or even have a cute snort laugh. Oh god, he's gonna instantly hug you tightly and shower you in kisses over how cute you are to him. Over how much he adores and loves you.

If he hasn't truly confessed his love for you by then, he'll do it now in that moment. And it'll actually come out sounding true and genuine from him than compared to his usual "I love you" to others. He'll never want to let you go now after this.

He'll be later dealing with a internal battle of feelings/emotions over the fact, he might of finally found someone he actually loves more than himself. But at the same time, he'll be so happy over it. He won't be able to shut up about it, and have to rave about it to someone(Solomon). While same time just endlessly talking about how much he loves you, how much he treasures you and just wants to shower you with all the love he can give to you now.

Asmo just wants to see you actually happily living your life to your fullest, and actually enjoying living now. But it'll make him even more happier, if you would live and share that lovely life of yours with him too, for eternity. 💖

#;jester sheep speaks ☕️ #obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #asmodeus x mc #asmodeus x you #asmodeus x y/n #asmodeus x reader #obey me imagine

[johnslittlespoon]

It just makes so much sense that you were writing in 2013, you have the unhinged vibe that the golden fics from that era had.

I'm just here to compliment you really lol, mostly because I am giving a try to write a lil something for the first time and god I can only dream of ever being able to write as good as you. I've been writing poems and music for years now but i find writing actual coherent storys with characters and dialogue so so hard.

I was wondering if you have any tips, or like little rules you follow when you write.

all the love, xxx

🌷

I'M GONNA CRYYYY this was the sweetest thing in the world to wake up to wtf wtf <333 thank you SO much, i really appreciate this wahh my heart :'))) but also you are SILLY. don't compare yourself to others!! if we all did that constantly we'd never get anything written!! there are SO many authors i adore on here that will always have me chasing the "i wish i could write like that" feeling and it's a great motivator but alsooo at the end of the day. you gotta fall in love with your own words and characters and stories <33

and i feel that so much!! we are twinsss, i also started out writing poems and music and then realized i had stories i wanted to tell that wouldn't fit in shorter form, then discovered fanfic in middle school in the early '10s and it was all downhill from there LOL. truly such a golden era tho oh my god. growing up reading the hat fic and borderline illegible wattpad stories was certainly... formative!

yapping ahead vv (i don't have much advice bc i'm still just learning as i go but hopefully some stuff i picked up on can be a bit helpful!)

i have zero method to the madness when writing so it's a relief to know it doesn't come off that way LOL but i do have a few little things that i follow and i always look for them when beta–ing as well! they're pretty small technical things and they're generally up to personal preference, but some of them come from authors i admire and i think they can really take anyone's writing up a notch <3

i don't feel qualified to give advice because i'm just raw–dogging everything lmao i've never taken classes or anything, so take all this yapping with a grain of salt bc it's just what's worked for me!

– i try to use descriptors like "the man" or "the blond" or "his friend" etc sparingly. i wish i could remember the source, but i read a great piece about why it's better to just go with the character's name 99% of the time, and then i went through so many of my works to edit them and i felt so much more confident in my writing afterwards– it made a big difference in readability (imo).

ofc there are exceptions, like if the name of a character is unknown, or if there are too many names being thrown around in one sentence and a "the man" or "the soldier" etc just sits nicer. i definitely still use them occasionally! but it does sometimes put some distance between the reader and the story when those descriptors are used too often instead of names, so it's a good thing to keep an eye out for when it comes to flow. sometimes less or more or whateva ??

– sorta on the topic of less is more, i love challenging myself to show vs tell when i can! whether it's by keeping dialogue short and letting actions speak instead (can add to intimacy/realism– we communicate so much through body language yk), through metaphors (literally how my whole '#john egan is dog coded' fic was born LOL), or describing feelings rather than spelling them out (his heart ached vs he was sad, his pulse raced vs he was scared, you get the gist). you said you've been writing poems so i feel like stuff like that would already probably come easily to you tho! <3

– this guide on ao3 is great for smut writers! whether someone's a beginner or just looking for ways to elevate the filth, i found it really helpful, it's a fun read as well lol. it calls out stereotypes/cliches and teaches you how to reword them, gives lists of slang and reactionary words, do's and don't's, etc. i don't follow everything in it but that's the beauty of writing; we all have things that work for us and things that don't and that's so okay. :-)

– in the same way that artists use references to practice and find their style, you can do that with writing too! i know a lot of writers have a doc or note where they jot down stylistic things they find while reading that they'd like to emanate, or words they want to use, specific phrases, descriptors, etc. if i'm reading a fic and find an auditory descriptor i like, i might take note of it, stuff like that. sorta like a text document version of a pinterest board!

– thesaurus.com is my best friend truly. often going with the 'simplest' version of a word makes for smoothest reading so someone isn't taken out of the story being like wtf does that word mean lol but sometimes things can feel repetitive, or like there just needs to be a little bit more spice; i probs go back and forth btwn my doc and thesaurus a dozen times an hour tbh.

that's all i can think of rn and ik those are pretty basic so i'm sorry about that!! i really do just kinda write what evokes emotions in myself, and then i hit post and hope it translates over to whoever is reading too :') drawing from your own experiences if you can/really sitting with what the characters would be feeling in whatever scenario you're writing is probably the most powerful way to present what you see in your mind.

i have a hard time writing about emotions/things i haven't personally experienced, so i usually stray away from it out of fear of not getting across what i want to, but some people are great at winging it and putting themselves in unfamiliar shoes so!! it's again just personal preference really.

and alsooo be kind to yourself! i'm an anxious wreck every time i post any of my writing, i am very much not confident when posting new fics and i agonize over my docs so much and trash a lot of works, but i know at the end of the day i can't grow or learn if i don't get the words down, and i can't get feedback or gain confidence if i don't post. becoming your own hype man and giving yourself the opportunity to improve is essential <33

sooo much love and best of luck!!! lmk if you end up writing smth, i'd love to read it (◠‿◠✿)

#also tentatively offering beta services to mota/sb moots bc i love helping w fics <33 hmu #if i am not super busy i am SAT #this got so long WHOOPS so sorry anon #johnslittlespoon asks #johnslittlespoon yaps

[frecklystars]

Omg not to overwhelm you or anything but look how much progress you're making!!! I know it's not fun to look back at the past but comparing your original post where you came back to now, can you see the difference? Or at least feel it? I know it's been around maybe a week since then(maybe, I'm kinda horrible with time) but look at you go lady!! You're simultaneously taking your time/precautions while almost speed running it and I'm so happy to see it

Oh thank you! HAHA "taking your time while almost speedrunning" made me laugh. Yeah I literally thought to myself yesterday that I think I'm like, 70% okay with the color pink most days now??? I've been flinching seeing it since January, now I only flinch on my Really Bad Days! or I'm handling it at least much better than I used to when I get anxious seeing it, I'm able to ground myself much easier. Which is great! I love pink, I don't want to flinch at it, I want to enjoy it. Now I only get the flashbacks when seeing that color if I'm having a rly rly bad/fragile day. I know I can't look at any pink transformer right now (so sorry Arcee and Elita-1 my wives 😔) but I can look at Princess Bubblegum and Pinkie Pie without any problems now. So that might be healing... knock on wood...

I'm hoping I can have that same improvement with the clothes I associated with my abuser too, I've been actually thinking about purchasing a JBWKZ crop top and wearing my shorts/boots with it when I'm alone in the house for maybe 10 minutes on a good day and seeing if that helps me overcome the trigger. Psychologists say it takes 30 days to break or form a habit, if I did that for 30 days I might feel so much better. Or at least, I will feel more in control. Or I can draw my S/I wearing Charlie Watson's outfits, or Marceline's outfits, bc they wear that same type of clothing... I've been trying to draw my S/I in a red cloak when she's with Steeljaw, like trying to view it as a little red riding hood thing, something safe. It's still really hard for me but god I want to get better so bad. I will do anything to make the ptsd go away. I am 100% willing to look at these things every single day (if I know I'm in a safe enough headspace to allow the feelings to wash over me instead of consume me) if it makes the healing process go faster. I hate feeling this way, I am so angry that someone made me like this. I want myself back, I miss Me more than anything else in the world and I am getting Me back!!! no matter what!!!

I was having a rly rly rly bad day yesterday so I was offline the whole day (my queue is always rolling, all the happy tags you see on my reblogged posts are from almost a year ago). And I was like, dang I'm never getting better, I'm stuck like this forever, I just want back what was stolen from me blahblahblah the usual depressed spiral, I felt that way a bit today too after waking up :( my anxiety is so present right now, there is SO much dread in my chest it feels like there's a physical weight on it. But I used to feel like this EVERY day! I've had 3 days in the last 10 days where I didn't have an anxiety attack even once! That's so big for me!!! Sometimes I wake up feeling shaky but the dread/weight of anxiety is not as strong, and I consider those days easier to work with. And I used to have days where nothing was "easier to work with" it was just hell. I wouldn't say that I'm feeling so much better than before, I am still really hurting, but I am feeling better! which is something!

And yeah you're right, if you compare how I was like, crying while writing my pinned, fully believing nobody was going to be there for me, I was like "I'm gonna write this whole vent post to explain where I went, nobody will believe me, I'll open 5 commission slots to pay off the most recent hospital bill and then I'll leave again and no one will have to care bc I'm not worth caring about" (which wasn't just a self depreciative depression thing, that was like, a genuine belief that was instilled into me for so long). And then immediately I got bombarded with people giving me the kindest words. I got almost 250 messages in the span of just 4 days, all of them people saying they want me to get better and that they hear me, they see me, they are acknowledging what I went through. I spent so long isolated with one single person who put me down continuously, and my family who truly did not feel concerned when I was trying to end my life. I did not expect people to be kind to be because I was conditioned to believe I'm not worthy of kindness. So the fact that I was able to go on my blog and receive that almost immediately? I actually felt like myself for a solid 6 hours the other day because people were writing nice comments on my art and telling me they want me to reclaim my TF F/Os and they're cheering for me. I didn't think I could accomplish something like that, feeling like myself I mean, bc I've been feeling so bad for so so long. I really hope I still have the capability of improving from here.

I'm still very numb most days and I've been masking my feelings trying to be rly enthusiastic with my public responses, putting a bunch of hearts and smiley faces when answering asks... today I'm struggling a bit, but I think I have improved at the same time. even if it's just a little, the improvement is visible to me and that gives me hope.

#anonymous #asks #keepsake #hahaha im speedrunning this healing process [finn voice] boyEEEE #hell yeah you ARE right anon. look at me go #looking at me right now compared to january. jesus christ #for me the biggest difference will be IF i can self ship again #so im not noticing the other differences like... how im handling my triggers #im having a bad day today so im actually kinda struggling to see my progress #but like. im sure theres more im not seeing

[astridthevalkyrie]

From one south asian sister to another….. oh no :( have you been telling them you’re wearing the hijaab but not actually wearing it? I can definitely just TELL the absolute awkward tension though of them finding out.

Luckily enough my parents haven’t really forced it onto to me and respect my own boundary of when I want to wear it, I can wear it.

thank you for checking in! i'm gonna use this ask to explain what exactly happened. i'll put most of it under a cut since this got really long. at a cliffhanger too, click read more to see the story.

so my first day of work was yesterday, i started at a store in our local mall. i knew my parents were the type to drop in without warning and i did expect them to do it eventually, but not on the first goddamn day. i had my phone on me tucked under my clothes even though technically i should have left it in my bag, just so i could check their location, but obviously i was training and couldn't just pop it out and look at it whenever. so when they came and saw me, without my hijaab on, i never saw them.

my youngest sister texted me saying that my mom had come home, said they went to the mall, and said they "needed to talk to me." she said my mom didn't seem too mad, but obviously i got nauseous pretty much right away, i could barely focus in the last hour i was there. it was better that i knew before they could ambush me, though, so thank god for my sister.

i get home and immediately play off that i'm sleepy, and crash onto the bed for a "nap." i heard my mom say something like "so why weren't you wearing your scarf" but i was pretend half-asleep so it got brushed off. then i pretty much just laid there for a couple hours.

we were supposed to go to my aunt't house, but my mother didn't want to go anyway, and she told my sister that since i wasn't feeling well, she would just use me as an excuse to stay. and, y'know, fuck that. i have a ten page paper due today that i have written half a page of that i need to get done and submit in eight hours today. and i should have worked on that yesterday instead of going to my aunt's house, but the idea of being alone in the house with my mother after that revelation actually makes me wanna drive a knife into myself.

so anyway, i "wake up" and tell my dad i'll go, he just quietly nods along and whatever. so i go up, and now everyone's upstairs, and as i'm drinking water my mom asks, "why did you have your scarf off while working?"

and while i was asleep, i considered three options: a, i could tell her that i decided to do it for job hunting and work because of discriminatory reasons. b, i could tell her that i started doing it a few months ago when law school started. or c, i could i tell her the truth, that i've been doing it consistently for two years and even before that whenever i wanted since i was 13.

i went with option b. so i told her no one made me, or anything, i just didn't want to wear the hijaab anymore. and that went about as well as you would imagine it to. here are some of the things i heard last night (not capitalizing, but most of these things were yelled, not spoken calmly):

"You're so spoiled. I allowed you to stop reading Quran, but this is too much." - not true, I stopped reading Quran everyday and she has continuously pestered me about it since, she hasn't allowed me jack shit.

"What's next, you stop praying, and then you're not even Muslim anymore!" - haven't prayed in years, but she doesn't need to know that. also, never wanna hear anyone say to my face again that all muslim women choose to wear the hijaab and no one ever forces them, or at least not in the precious western world.

"I always thought cousin x was like this because of the way she was raised, but now my daughter with MY raising has turned out like this." - the cousin of hers she was comparing me to hit her while she was pregnant with my sister. lovely comparison. also way to make it about yourself.

"It's because you watched too many movies and listen to too many songs." - a classic. check out all those things i participated in that hurt so many people. listening to music? what a horrible sin.

"It's because you hang out with friend x and friend y, they've filled your head with these thoughts" - the friends she named were my two closest friends, both of whom are black women. mind you she followed up with "i don't want you hanging out with black or white or non muslim friends anymore" but she also reemed into friend y, who mind you, has always greeted her politely and dressed appropriately if she was visiting my house. the other girl? more religious than i am (though she's christian) and neither of them drink or smoke or anything like that. meanwhile a muslim girl i hang out with wears a hijaab on her head for sure, but she vapes, drinks, goes on dates, but sure. muslim girls are the fuckin role models for this generation, definitely.

(she also took this opportunity to walk into my sisters' room and scream that she doesn't want them hanging out with their nonmuslim friends either. we live in a very white area—they don't have muslim friends. i only started to make them in college because my high school didn't have any but me. so.....total isolation except from their family! how healthy i'm sure my sisters will be fine.)

"I don't want you around my other daughters, i don't want you influencing them." - probably the one that stung the most, but also hilarious. HILARIOUS that she thinks i need to influence them. my middle sister hates my mother at the age of 15 far more than i did in my teen years. she's had trichotillomania for years and my mother has consistently told her to: just stop, that she's doing it for attention, that she must like doing it, etc.. so, yeah, my influence? definitely not needed. it's not like my sisters come to me to talk about things they can't talk to our parents about. i'm not worried about the day i have to move out and leave them, not at all! i'm sure they're in such good hands!!!

oh, fun fact also! my mother got married at like 25? 26? and only started wearing her hijaab like a few years after that. i wonder how she was raised! if me having been forced to wear it at 8 is bad parenting, i wonder what this says about my grandmother.

and here and there my dad being the coward he is interjected with "i don't understand why it's so hard" to which i answered that i didn't expect him to. when she screamed at my sisters i told him to stop her and he just said "she's in shock." like okay??? so come scream at me you fucking bitch???? i also had to play pretend that my sisters didn't already know i did this.

my brilliant father also said that while i was living with them, i need to wear it, but after marriage it was on me. oh RIIIIIGHT. marriage! after i belong to a man instead of my parents! the marriage that could very well be to a man who requires a hijaabi wife! why didn't I think of that??? and when i told them as much my mom cut in before my dad could and said "so what if he wants a hijaabi wife? is it a bad thing for him to be religious? better than being a degenerate!" am i actually. here? is this real life? is this fantasy? i mean same woman who told me she hopes my husband beats me if i continue to do theater so not surprising, but i'm sure my spoiled little brat self just doesn't understad.

then my mother goes and sobs in her room for a couple minutes. my dad gives her: reassuring words, hugs, back rubs, comfort. i got a head pat. i mean i was crying too but not loud heaving sobs like someone just shot my cat, so what did i expect, right?

he tells me to start wearing it at work. i say no. he tells me to quit, then. okay. four interviews, four job offers—i got every. single. job. i. interviewed. for.—and i walk away with nothing. nothing! side note, will probably be opening commissions soon, because i'm not in a hurry to take up another customer service job and deal with this again. i quit this morning. the manager was understanding even though i worked all of one day and black friday is coming up. this one's genuinely on me. i could just work with my hijaab on. but i won't. and again, not the reason i did it, but something just tells me in the area we live in, i was not getting four job offers with a hijaab on my head.

anyway, i just ask him if we're going to my aunt's house, and we are.

in the car, with just him and my sisters, i talk openly. he knows that i don't wear my scarf when i don't have to. he doesn't care. supposedly he understands (how interesting that he understands when my mother isn't there to hear it.) his advice? "just tell her you will, and then don't." oh.......so what i've been doing! lying! fantastic, brilliant, inspired. and he's very sure that a, she will believe me when i do this now, b, i'll "definitely" be married within two years, and c, that she won't stop me from hanging out with my friends or sisters.

like, in the nicest way possible, i wasn't worried about that in the slightest. i pay for my car. i'm in law school—LAW SCHOOL!—on FULL ACADEMIC SCHOLARSHIP. and i'm bragging. i am. the year's tuition could have been more or around 50,000. my parents aren't paying a dime to send me here. if i'm gonna go get lunch with my friend after class, there's quite literally nothing she can do to stop me. my sister and i just will not stop talking and if she ever tries like locking my sister in her room it's fuck around and find out at this point. what does she hold over my head? a toxic home environment. it's definitely exhausting to study for LAW SCHOOL and do LAW SCHOOL reading and then come home to utter bullshit, whether that's more yelling or the silent treatment or whatever. she also cooks for me. again, nicest way possible, i can cook for myself. i can buy my own ingredients if i need to. i can eat out. i don't need my father's money to do it either. not that i have enough saved that i could live on my own, but my father isn't kicking me out of the house, and i worked hard and saved enough that i can very much afford to make meals for myself, thanks.

where my mom has me, and where she doesn't even know she has me, is that i'm not as batshit as her. sorry to seem ableist, but she gave me most of my mental issues, so. i care about my sisters. i do not want them dealing with her and her abusive ass everyday. i care about my pussy ass father. he's already in a marriage with her and works full time, he's got enough on his plate to have to deal with her ranting his ear off about it everyday. and i care about her. can you believe that? i don't. i care about this bitchy ass woman and how she's a victim, how she had to move to a new country after marriage and how her in laws don't always treat her well. how she's schizophrenic and how terrifying that must be. so after all that, do i have any choice but to play nice? i quit my job, i'll tell her what she wants to hear. i'm not going to wear my hijaab at school but i'll still let her think i do. if she wants to watch me pray, she can.

so at the end, i am still the only one compromising. and all this because i don't want to wear the hijaab. which is supposedly as so many stupid fucking people have told me, is my choice, it's up to me! i live in a western country! but it's okay because once a man owns me i will maybe be able to make my own choices. yay!

yeah. sorry for this, it's super long—thanks to anyone who read it. i now have to get this ten page paper out, because it's definitely too late to ask for an extension and professors don't really care about minor religious complications. hope everyone has a good day, love you guys <3

#i do not have time to cry and yet i keep. crying

[oh-cool-a-burning-sword]

Welp, I played and finished Fire Emblem Engage!

NGL, it's really, REALLY good.

Like the people who reviewed the game before it was released did not do it justice. (not that I cared for those reviews anyways). Sure the story is simple when compared to Houses, but that doesn't make it bad. Sure plot points are rather predictable if you've played past games, but their played out in more interesting ways.

Like while it was fairly obvious that Alear was related to Sombron. It was surprising that Lumera wasn't Alear's biological mother. Found family tropes aren't really common in FE games (since parents usually die). Yet the bond that Alear and Lumera shared, despite Alear being taught to kill divine dragons and Lumera's family dying because of the Fell Dragon... and said bond being so strong that she took years out of her own life to bring them back?

That, right there, is family.

And on the topic of Sombron and Lumera. There were already plenty of parallels before the game was even out. Lumera's name meaning light and Sombron's name meaning shadow, divine and fallen. But then you play the game and you find one more thing that they have in common. They both lost everything. In the final battle you find out that Sombron's people were killed and he was exiled to another world (aka Elyos). The difference is that Lumera found a new family in Alear and by the looks of it, moved on. While Sombron HAD someone at first, an Emblem from another world known as the Zero Emblem. Yet the Emblem vanished when Sombron was taken in by a village, and after that he decided to stay alone, pushing away people who genuinely cared for him like Veyle.

He's still obviously the villain. Even with that backstory, he hurt too many people, was willing to destroy a world just to get back to his own. Sombron killed his own kids because they were 'defects'. Because of his treatment, past Alear behaved like an emotionless puppet due to trauma and fear of being killed like his siblings. You can sympathise with a villain while still seeing them as the bad guy.

Same can be said for Zephia. She did so many horrible things, tried to erase the real Veyle, killed Marni, which honestly that scene brought tears to my eyes. When we learn her backstory, we find that she was also alone. She never got to know what Love really was until it was too late. Zephia wanted a family, a child, and she genuinely thought of the Hounds as her family. Hell in the scene where she and Griss were dying, she finds out that Griss truly saw her as a mother/sister. It does kinda make we wish that they could have joined us, but oh well.

Also glad that they actually gave an explanation as to why Alear and Veyle never turned into dragons. Past Alear gave their dragon stone to Veyle (which then breaks when Alear dies), and Veyle in a wake up event reveals that she buried her dragon stone. I would have liked to see how a Fell/Divine dragon hybrid would look like, however, as despite not being biologically related, Lumera giving her powers to Alear made them in part a Divine Dragon.

Then there's these little moments in the game that just makes it shine. Like meeting Fogado's retainers, aka Pandreo's hilarious reaction of 'Oh hey it's God... GOD!?'. King Morion (despite not lasting long) being revealed to absolutely loving both his kids was nice. I really thought that he wouldn't have been a good guy, but he was a sweetheart? I wish he lasted longer tho.

Honestly the whole Brodia fam is just great, I love them.

I like how if you get a game over during the final battle, you don't just get a game over screen, you get a bad ending. Alear loses their divine side, Veyle is under Sombron's control again and has Alear's emblem ring. Everyone dies. There's not really that many bad endings in FE games. At least as far as I'm aware? I mean there's the 'right' thing to do, finishing Grima off as Robin so that the Fell dragon's gone forever, choosing to side with neither Hoshido or Nohr to save everyone. But never an ending that straight up goes 'you fucked up big time'. Even Three Hopes, despite the fact that sure, recruiting Byleth is the 'right' decision, with the exception of Scarlet Blaze, there's no huge consequence for choosing to kill them (though the story just kinda... drops at the end so we never known what happens afterwards)

Granted it's a small scene and you get brought back to the fight soon after, but it's still really neat that they did that.

All in all I really enjoyed this game. It makes it abundantly clear that Engage was meant to be an anniversary title that got delayed. I can't wait for the next instalment which there's a 90% chance of being a Genealogy remake. We should find out about it in about 2-3 years since that seems to be the release pattern FE games have atm. Unless there's any delays.

I didn't get the DLC yet, but now I think I will. Just to see the side story we'll get and also to meet new Emblems/new Characters.

Oh and yes, I married Alfred.

#fire emblem #fire emblem engage #fe engage #this game is fun #you should play it #just don't make my mistake an remember to boost your bonds with the emblems #I'm glad that I overpowered my Alear so literally nothing could touch them #like... Sombron in his final form had a 0 hit percentage against Alear #because their avo was so high #though I also switched to normal early on because I was stuck #so that could be why #I also wonder if we'll get an engage character or two in this year's fallen banner #I mean #Corrupted Lumera #Past Alear #Evil Veyle #along with all the Emblems when controlled by the Fell Dragon #they'd all be neat candidates for Fallen Alts #that's probably why there's so many evil characters in Engage #lol

[jeansyvesmoreau]

My love, the days that have passed since I last saw you feel like the everlasting sea. The space in my bed where you should lay feels barren and empty. I feel the cavern in my heart, carved empty from the spot in my arms where you should lay. These sheets that used to be silky to my hand are unremarkable now that I have felt the touch of your skin. I find myself thinking of you always, my love. Did you know I am enchanted by the very shape of your lips? You have tainted my life, my dear. Now I cannot see a bottle of wine without thinking of your lips against a glass. I cannot savour a taste of milky chocolate without remembering that night we spent on the Grecian coast. I cannot close my eyes without seeing the curves of your body, the taste of your lips, the willowy strands of your hair in which I long to bury my hands. Every bird song is paled in comparison to your voice, every shine of the stars is nothing to your eyes. The color has drained from the world in your absence, the beauty following in your wake. I cannot help but think the moon is brighter, the grass is greener, and the flowers more vivid wherever you are. I long for you my dear. I am counting the days till I can see you again. 

All of my love, 

Your dear friend. 

P.S. I hate to talk of him, but my husband has fallen ill. Soon he shall no longer be a problem, just a blight in the beautiful pages of our love story. No matter, he could never compare to the touch of your hand. 

oh my god this is an even better anonymous homoerotic ask I could have ever asked for you're a legend for this

#anon asks #while i was gone i would have asked you* #fave

[just-a-laughingstock]

I Need Y’all To Listen

Stop comparing Prince Phillip to Prince Florian. They were in two different situations. People use both  of these characters to be like “Oh my god, Old Disney knew nothing about consent.” but you listen to me. Both of them kissed sleeping woman but only 1 of them is a creep and that’s Prince Florian.

Prince Florian met this girl ONCE and then the next time he saw her she was in in coffin. Nobody knew she was asleep, because the only person who knew it was a sleeping curse and not poison. DIED at the end of the movie. As far as everyone knew, specifically the dwarves. They came home and the princess they were housing was poisened by an apple. And they put her in a coffin. They didn’t know she was asleep, they thought she was dead (y’know, why they put her in a COFFIN). Then Prince Florian found her in a coffin and kissed her. And I don’t want to hear “It was a farewell kiss” cause you can do that somewhere other then the lips. Then she woke up. Nobody knew that would happen, because they thought she was DEAD. Florian thought he was kissing the corpse of a girl he met ONCE, he didn’t know she’d wake up.

Prince Phillip on the other hand didn’t. Sure he might have met her “once” but magic exists in this world so “Once Upon a Dream” could be literal. Meaning they could have met multiple times in dreams. So he KNEW her. But that doesn’t magically make kissing a sleeping girl okay. What does defend him is the fact that pretty much EVERYONE told him to. He was probably in his very late teens to early twenties, and a bunch of hundred year old faires were telling him “This girl is cursed to sleep forever unless you kiss her.” even the fairy who CAST THE CURSE said “I’m gonna lock you in this cell for years, so that you’re really old when you go and save Aurora from eternal sleep”. So it wasn’t like he just found her sleeping there, he was told by people older and wiser then him “Hey, go kiss that sleeping girl. If you don’t everyone’s fucked.”. So he literally did what he was told. If you want to shame anyone for “not understanding consent” blame the fucking fairies. They were the ones who changed the curse so that she would need to be kissed in order to wake up. He was just following the rules he was given.

In conclusion,

Prince Florian found what he thought was a corpse and kissed it on the lips, he had no clue anything would happen from it. Nobody told him to do it. He just did it.

Prince Phillip was told by 4 people older and wiser than him, one having cast the curse and one having modified it. That he had to kiss this sleeping girl or she would never wake up. Making him aware that the only way to save her was to kiss her on the lips. We have 0 clue if he would have done that without being told. But I stand by inoccent till proven guilty, so I’m gonna assume he wouldn’t have.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

#disney #disney movies #disney princes #prince florian #prince philip #old disney #rant #snow white #sleeping beauty #snow white and the 7 dwarfs #disney hottake #hot take #hottake

[temporalhargreeves]

I keep seeing everyone asking about how Klaus died in the first Apocalypse, if Five buried him alive, etc, etc. While I see a lot of theories and thoughts out there I have yet to personally see anything similar to my own take on this plothole and seeming lapse in judgment from the writers.

I do not think Klaus came back to life after the initial Apocalypse, which will simply be referred to as "The Apocalypse" henceforth, and I especially don't think Five buried Klaus alive and I will briefly explain why.

First and foremost there is no way that Five wouldn't have noticed. He was thirteen when he discovered the bodies of his siblings in the wreckage of the world and I'm sure we can all come to the conclusion that Five was arrogant enough to think he'd get back to his time far quicker than he actually did. He would have lingered around their bodies indefinitely for at least a small amount of time before he started to diminish the resources in the area and there is absolutely no way in hell that if he did bury them that he would have dug a deep enough grave or buried his siblings deep enough that Klaus wouldn't have been able to either dig his way out or make enough noise that Five would take notice, regardless of how many resurrections it would have taken to eventually get Five's attention.

However, despite all that, I don't believe Klaus came back at all after his initial death in his futile fight to stop the Apocalypse.

From all the deaths we've seen or heard of when it comes to Klaus he was either completely unaware that he'd died at all or he was already aware that he had the ability to resurrect himself. This does include his stint in the afterlife when he died during the rave in season one, as the only reason he believes he died is that he met God and talked to Reginald and that could easily be brushed off later as a side effect of his powers during a "near" death experience. For all intents and purposes, Klaus would have no reason to think he's going to stay dead in any scenario, especially given just how doped up he'd been a majority of his life. Subconscious or not, there is an effort put in to come back from the dead because Klaus sincerely believes that he's just going to bounce back or "wake up" as if nothing had happened at all. We have yet to see a Hargreeves with abilities they don't activate themselves unless we want to assume that Luther and Marcus are just in a constant heightened state but even then their powers really fall under a different category when compared to everyone else's. I firmly believe that Klaus' ability requires an effort because we've seen him remain in the afterlife or "the Void" after he kicked it in Oblivion. He came back when he more or less wanted to after Luther's relentless pestering, not because he was just sucked back into the realm of the living.

Long story short, I don't think Klaus came back after the Apocalypse because there is no way that man watched the world explode and thought "Oh, I'll walk away from this." Klaus really thought he died, and he had zero reason to believe otherwise because Reginald never thought to inform him about the extent of his abilities, and so, by all means, he really did.

#|| 00.04 #|| the academy #|| scribbled equations #klaus hargreeves #00.04 #the umbrella academy #tua #the seance #tua season 3 #umbrella academy

[ryttu3k]

A selection of moments from my last session/s of Tavias' run. All spoilery for endgame. Image-heavy, used all 30 image slots.

"When I said I wanted to get more in touch with my draconic ancestry, this was not what I had in mind."

This is an interesting example because Tavias was in this situation. Two days ago. And his exact response was, "Actually, I would rather die than become a monster under a more powerful being's thrall."

Not capped: *gross sobbing over Dear Ansur*

Not capped: Just for the record, the line that officially pushed Astarion from approval 99 to approval 100 was:

Halsin: "Perhaps you'd care for a little extra company..."

Tavias: "The more the merrier!"

Astarion: *approves*

(I hc he's quietly nursing a raging crush on Halsin and the V relationship absolutely has the potential to turn into a full triangle, and not just because I'm hopeless for Halstarion.)

I really wish you could talk to Astarion about this later. I'm very glad you can talk to Halsin, but this should be addressed too! I'm glad he feels confident and safe enough to push his own boundaries, I just really wish we could like... check in on him and make sure he's doing okay. See also: helping Halsin recognise that what happened to him was trauma.

Seven years too late (he was seventeen years old, Ulder), but finally some parental approval!

<3

Not capped: the forehead touch after the kiss with Halsin is. Goddamn adorable ;_;

Genuinely motivational tbh

This is what we call an, "Ah fuck" moment.

Okay so. Orin basically saved the world.

Like obviously the Brain breaking free from the influence of the crown is a bad thing. But consider the alternative - a Brain who willingly follows the Dark Urge. A Brain who doesn't rebel, that rebellion leading to its ultimate downfall. A Brain who does follow the Dark Urge is a Brain in a world where Bhaal wins.

But Orin was jealous. Orin wanted her father's love. Orin attacks her sibling, and that sibling wakes up and goes, actually, you know what? I don't think I do want to be Bhaal's puppet for the rest of my existence, and the world is saved.

Dude there are plenty of other options that don't involve that. What is wrong with you.

Not capped: Beorn Wunterbrood being like, "Balduran's grace be with you" and Tavias just going, "......yeahhhhh haha about that, there's a non-zero chance we're gonna have to kill Balduran. Just. Just so you know."

You got it, boss. #ResistDurgeIsChosenOfJergalTruther

Not capped: "I always dreamed of walking these halls, you know. My dreams never included a giant brain or smoldering ruins, but I'll take what I can get~" I <3 him what a goddamn dork.

Not capped: you know this is the part where I'd have to be like. Yeah you guys go ahead. Yeah I'm gonna sit this one out. Why? Well, do I look like I can climb the giant squishy completely vertical tube while it actively tries to fly? No no if someone can teleport me up I can fight but otherwise I may have to sit this one out.

For the first time... quiet at last.

Oh this shit hurts ;_;

He chose against apotheosis this time <3 I can only surmise that what happened in Tae's run was that saying, no, fuck Mystra, you don't owe her anything, made him decide to act against her? This is still... not necessarily a great ending for Gale, because it still requires capitulating to the desires of his abuser, even if it does mean being free of the Orb (and not becoming Cringegod(tm). It's the best possible ending for him, yes, but I wish there was an option for him to acknowledge that what Mystra did to him was awful and he didn't deserve to be treated like that, and be able to reject the Crown.

Not capped: still! goddamn! hate! how Astarion running from the sun is almost played for laughs! I got Gale's line in this one and hearing how dismissive and flippant it is compared to what'll be the new line, where he sounds genuinely horrified and worried and openly states they'll need to be a good friend to him and offer him comfort, is... god. Dramatic difference. "Welp, that's the last we'll see of him!" that original line is so wrong ;_;

Glad she was able to make the decision herself. Forcing her just feels wrong.

I like this <3 Halsin still carries out his dream, but the relationship doesn't end, it's just. Long-distance, haha.

It's interesting how this plays out if you do Halsin poly, because it has the scene of Halsin waking up next to the PC, they talk about where things go, they walk off hand in hand... then it has the scene of Astarion waking up next to the PC, they talk about... etc XD I'd love if they included a poly option with all three of them, so you can get just the Halsin one, or just the Astarion one, or one where you talk to both at the same time. IIRC the only relationships where you can do Halsin poly is with Astarion or Shadowheart, so that's only two extra scenes they'd have to work out! It just feels a bit awkward as it is, with both scenes playing one after the other?

Anyway. The Astarion scene <3 This is the bit where I got all misty-eyed because. The reflection of, "What do you want?" "You. I want... you", and the beautiful Durge-specific line of being able to choose family... ;_;

They absolutely get together while in Avernus <3

Final decisions: Orpheus requests a merciful death, which Tavias provides. Lae'zel chooses to go to war. Gale returns the crown to Mystra. Wyll offers to accompany Karlach to Avernus, and she chooses to accept. Halsin goes to start a new community for those in need, with his relationship with Tavias continuing. Tavias and Astarion stay together and look for a way for Astarion to walk in the sun again.

There will be a separate post just for the epilogue, once I sort the, uh, 723 screencaps I took for it!

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #ry plays bg3 #oc: tavias

[lowlyroach]

338) The Trunk

My chest is tight

Overloaded heart on stimulants

Every time I leave you it is as if a year has passed

Chasing fresh memories as if looking through stained glass

A hazy fog of chemical love

I talk to God again on the walk back to my car

We're in this one deep, huh, you fucking cunt

I'm going to tear you from heaven

And beat you with my own two hands

Is everything predetermined?

If you knew all of me would you be able to know

I would continue choosing you?

I sprint under the lamp post again

We walk to the car

You yell at me as I set everything up

Playfully, of course

I climb in the trunk with you

You are the greatest feeling in the world

How long was a smile plastered on my face?

Until my cheeks grew sore and still I smiled

Oh, sweet everything of mine, touch me more

Watch my skin react as you melt me

Abs and chest tensing

Deep breaths as if I could engulf the feeling into my lungs

Leave me fluttering

Eyes unfocused as I come to

Blink the feeling away

Come back and I see your face

Looking at my body

Eye contact

You lean in, try to peer at me in the shadows

In these moments I really feel as if it's just us

That you are mine

I am becoming more deluded

But God, do I wish it was you

Every day waking up to this

You stare at the plate in your hand

As if to dare the noodle to fall

And it does, as if in protest to your glare

I am a fly on the wall, here

I love watching you for hours

We talk in the car for a bit after your shift

I am exhausted, can you tell?

Yet you light that fire in me, still

You teach me how to play rummy in the trunk

I crush you three times in a row!

DO NOT MESS WITH ME!

YOU WILL NOT DEFEAT ME!

I stare at you as you shuffle the cards

Are you doing the same when I do?

Isn't this so cruel?

Am I digging a grave

Or bathing in heaven's grace

Which answer is worse?

Which one of us will leave first?

When will the light fade?

Or the dirt smother me, permanently?

You can't focus when I massage your back

Are you melting?

Your eyes flutter when I play with your hair

Is my touch too much?

Relax into my hands

I want to make you feel amazing

Let me touch something as beautiful as your skin

Let me feel like I can be good

Your legs are sore, but you won't let me touch them

Won't you let me make you feel better?

You are worth the weight of the world

I will carry the sky for you

Won't you let me show you?

Unconditional love.

Perhaps, it feels like that

Maybe there is a condition somewhere I haven't found yet

I suppose I was trying to, once

In ten years I haven't found one

You tell me to keep my hands to myself

I don't have to massage you

Of course not, I know that

I want to, so badly

But you say it's enough

So I resist touching you

Keep my hands to myself

You set them aside

And you melt me with yours

I hastily take off my shirt

Please, touch my skin

I want to feel it

Do you have fun with me at your mercy?

I can't do anything as you trace me, there

I am a speck in the infinity you wield

Do you see me begging wordlessly?

Your hands cup my face

Oh, how could heaven ever compare?

Pinch my cheeks

Oh, how will I resist?

I can't

I won't

You would crumble any wall I set

You are the force of nuclear detonation

A black hole's gamma radiation

Leave yourself in my every cell

I will carry them with me forever

You slap my face lightly

Oh my god

wow

I didn't think I'd be into that

Hit me harder

You tug on my hair

How are you doing that?

I've never even been into anything close to this before

Slap me

Grab my chin and turn me to face you

I am nothing in your hands

You are creator and destroyer

I don't think you understand

Good GOD! HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT?

Please slap me more

I am your play thing

Ugh

Shape me like clay

I will take whatever form you desire

Do you enjoy making me squirm beneath your hands?

A tsunami across my torso

Sink me into the blanket

Let's never leave

Won't you be a statue here, with me?

Blissful harmony

We walk back and you mention

You wanted Friday to be the last time

You planned to never speak to me again

You say, you can't stay away

Neither can I

Is this right?

Are we both avoiding the truth?

I grab two hugs before I leave

I cry on the drive to work in the morning

I am up for 44 hours before I find sleep again

It was worth every second

Every second in this heaven

I'll shoot for the stars

If i miss I'll just

Die alone, in the vacuum of space

#writing #poem #poetry #spilled ink #twcpoetry #poeticstories #There was more i think. but ive been drinking and wanted to finish this up. sorry

[ratcatcher0325]

Hi Penn! My name's Kit and I'm probably one of your biggest fans. (And also Travis of Sticks and Stones. He's pretty amazing too). I've been following you since Seattle and I'm having a bit of a fangirl moment sending you this Ask...

OK... my question: Describe an average day in your life.

Oh, hi, @kitn-underfoot ! It’s amazing to meet you! Biggest fan you say? Since Seattle? Damn, that’s like… early days…. I was still knocking at the knees back then. Hey! Hey Trav!! You can tune that later, come here…. We’ve got our biggest fan, Kit, say hi!

Hi Kit!! Pleasure to meet you! Thanks for enjoying our stuff! Who knows, maybe we’ll stop near you on tour and we can say hi in person!

Okay you’ve said your piece, now get outta my ask inbox. Shoo! (He just rolled his eyes at me and jabbed me in the shoulder with his finger). He’s lucky I’m in a chipper mood…. I’m kidding, I love that man, I dunno what I’d do without him.

Describe an average day in my life? Hmm, it still blows my mind how much that’s changed, and so quickly too. God, I mean, the lives I’ve lived before now, compared to the one I count myself lucky to wake up to every morning??? It’s like night and day. So, I’ll give you a window into my current little slice of heaven:

Most mornings I stir awake at 11 at the absolute earliest, most often lying atop Eveline’s heart, but sometimes we switch it up and I curl up in her hand or her hair. Neither of us are big on rising early. Most of the time we snooze our alarm three and four times. Travis usually ends up having to slam on our hotel room door just to finally get us up. He loves that, I know (sorry, Trav…). One of the things I absolutely love about my life is I find myself someplace new sometimes within the span of 24 hours. We always love exploring wherever we are: see the sights, get lost, meet up with friends if we have them there. Sometimes we all hang as a group, sometimes it’s just Ev and I.

Alternatively, if the weather’s shitty or we’re tired from being on the road, we’ll just hole up in one of our hotel rooms and jam or write something or just order room service and pig out.

Then, when the sun goes down, it’s time to get to work. Sticks and Stones warms up and goes through sound check and I check my equipment backstage… then, before I know it, I’m suddenly onstage with my best friends behind me and so many wonderful friends in the making in front of me, swaying and singing along with me. I play my heart out, have fun, usually make an idiot of myself one way or another, meet people backstage, sign a million things until I’m terrified my skin is just going to permanently turn silver, and then, we crash, and I find myself settled back over the beating heart of the woman I love and we get ready to do it all again, someplace else.

Isn’t it insane that I get to claim that as my routine? Never in my life would I have thought something like that would ever be possible for someone like me. And yet, here I am, living it. It’s craziness. But…. It’s our craziness and it’s something I enjoy sharing with people like you. So… thanks for enjoying my stupidity captured in sound waves. And thanks for believing in me. It means in the world.

With love, one of Kit’s biggest fans,

Penn