#happy birth mania!!!

[saltwaterspite]

happy 5th birthday mania! / jan. 19th 2018

#for adi <333 #happy early birth adi #and #happy birth mania!!! #what an album #scheduled post #edit #fob #fall out boy #fob edit #fall out boy edit #mania fob #lyric edit #patrick stump #pete wentz #andy hurley #joe trohman #last of the real ones #my edit #man its been a while since i did one of these #but i thought... manias birthday... why not

[abimee]

this can tie into ruyan as well i think...... ruyan does not struggle with her gender or sexuality at all in any sort of repressed way i think the only way she really struggles with is outwardly dating other people because of her specific circumstance of not technically a cis woman? but something agender but wants to be spoken to as a woman and the main issue comes with how she transitioned and how she has taken on the body considered ''male'' for au ra and how that influences how people see her and treat her during sex and romantic endeavors. but her problem stew is mostly unrelated to that and more about her insane mental illness and obsessions but this also isnt about this. this post was supposed to be about utterly terrifying it is for ruyan when she marries chefant because she realizes this means shes going to be part of a family and for once in his life have like, brothers and a father and is expected to call them as such and it sends her spiralling down a hole again about the long drawn belief shes had that nobody has ever loved her beyond obligation and ESPECIALLY when she finds out on his very own wedding day that his own mother never really even loved him and did all she did simply out of obligation and now she worries and obsesses over being taken in to a new family and the wedding and what this all means and how terrifying this all is. not to mention after knowing everything that goes on in the family how worried she is that shes so easily accepted in for who she is (agender woman? person bisexual) while they all have been having a magnitude 8 repressed family moment. AND her other fears about marriage and being ''tied down'' and the idea that everyones love for her has a limit that will be met one day and she will be discarded and left behind or that hes expected to be a certain way or behave a specific way and meet ''requirements'' for this love. anyway

#and ruyan going into dysphoric mania because of her wedding and screaming in her dressing room that shes ruined everything #and how shes a horrible person for not feeling happy on her wedding day when she KNOWS she happy #but her body just keeps spiralling and telling her this is awful this is bad when she just wants one moment of peace #from her mind that ruins everything and twists every good thing into paranoia or jealousy or fear #literally in her dressing room sobbing her makeup off trying not to stain her white dress while yelling that nobody look at him #because its bad luck for a bride to be seen before the wedding so horshy has to sit on the other side of a cracked open door #and hold her hand through the small opening so he cant see her but still be there for her #oh and dont even get me started on how he was unable to hold her own child for the first two weeks of her life #because the birth of her triggered her dysphoric mania and made her sick to her stomach about it

[genericpuff]

The erasure of Aphrodite's actual kids in mythology for Rachel's OCs is worse when you notice they're all queer themselves:

Eros - Already a given as to why he'd be a queer figure

Anteros - God of Requited Love. In the more popular versions of his birth he's the son of Poseidon ans Nerites, another man. The god of the most happy form of love is from two queer dads!

Himeros - God of Sex, and specifically is considered a patron to Male/Male romantic and sexual relationships

Pothos - God of Longing and Yearning, and to many can be seen as a queer figure who represents the struggle of queer identities and feelings in a cishetero society

Hedylogos - God of Sweet-talk and Flattery, easily can be made into a bi/pansexual figure to represent queer joy

Hymenaus - God of Marriages and Song who actually crossdresses in mythology to save women in danger.

Hermaphroditus - God of Androgyny, who in the greek version of their birth was always neither male or female, but a mixture of both. They're a symbol of intersex people and being outside the gender binary.

So, Rachel had a whole BTS's worth of queer figures to include in her story, especially in a romance story, and yet removed all of them except one to make a gay best friend. The queer erasure has been there since day one and is worse the longer you look into it!

You're so right though, I feel like it would have made sense to not include them just for the sake of avoiding cast bloat, but instead she just swapped them out for a whole other cast of fake kids, and it's really telling when the OG kids were queer. Now we have... Mania.

(idc what anyone says, i'm genuinely disturbed by this child, it's funny but also it's not, why does the baby have eyEBROWS-)

Pour one out for the real kids of Aphrodite, they all deserve better 😔💔

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #ask me anything #anon ama #ama #anon ask me anything

[holybibly]

Divine Rosa  ❢ot8xreader❣ 

❣ Pairing: yandere!otx8 x reader

❣ Genre: Dark Romance, vampire au, angst, horror, yandere au, smut

❣ Word Count: 8.5k

❣ Summary: The moth always pours itself into the flame; what a pity that in the end it burns out. After the tragic death of her sister, MС tries to find answers to the questions she left behind. This leads her to a gated cottage town known for its luxurious rose gardens. In addition, there are also these mysterious men who manage all the affairs in the city. Too sweet, too helpful, too intrusive, and too in love.

❣ WARNING: only!18+ Themes of death, suicide, severe depression, stalking, blood, yandere behavior, panic attack. Sexual themes: hematolagnia, body worship, masturbation, bite kink, olfactophilia, voyeurism.

❣ Disclaimer: I don't support yandere behavior, stalking, or religious imposition. Themes include violence, obsession, possessiveness, and emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended solely for entertainment purposes.

❣Chapter 2: Wolf in sheep's clothing❣

Love is a word that deserves closer consideration, halfway between the dry hypocrisy of the dictionary and its deep sacral meaning.

What a strange feeling…

Love, both virtuous and vicious, motivates us to accomplish great feats yet also triggers the commission of heinous crimes. This mysterious and inexplicable feeling interweaves its complex structure within us, becoming the most unstable, contentious, and hazardous of all human emotions.

Love is the fundamental source of all our emotions and experiences in the world, both beautiful and disgusting.

Love has a multitude of motives, including the desire for control, submission, care, seduction, lust, protection, worship, creation and, of course, destruction.

The feeling is manifold; We can call this complex emotion by different names, including passion, hatred, obsession, alienation, objectification, mania, unattainable dreams, happiness, idolatry, spiritual unity, and possibly the most poetic of all—the second half of the soul.

Humans crave love from birth until death. This desire is inherent and everlasting. As we take our first breath, we unconsciously absorb the toxic essence of love, which settles in our lungs like delicate, silky flowers.

This need is woven into the very structure of our DNA, an animal instinct that inadvertently condemns us to eternal suffering.

Love exists as a palpable entity, often obscured by human perceptions of carefree happiness and joy. It can be likened to a lurking deep-sea creature, concealing its true visage, branching and moving under the thin surface of our skin.

She is as cunning as a murderer's grin, and she is well aware of the inevitable tragic end of every story she is about to tell. Though we may be in the belief that we have had a joyful life, in reality all our actions have been under the impulse of love. For the sake of this deceptive feeling, which unites us for a moment in the ecstatic joy and privileges of angelic ugliness.

In the end, our physical bodies will serve to feed the earthworms, to house the larvae and to nourish the roots.

Never again will they gaze into each other's eyes, never again will the turquoise flame passion between them ignite, and never again will their lips meet in a voluptuousness kiss. 

Love has the power to drive us insane, to blind us, and even to lead to our demise.

And yet, in life, it is possible to miss everything but love.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

 3rd POV 

I want to fill my mouth with your name. I want to eat you whole. Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems, and a Song of Despair

“You look pathetic, San. Don't you think so? I wonder what Seonghwa would say to that?” Yeosang lazily runs his pale spidery fingers over Yoru's silky black fur, looking with contempt at the naked brunette stretched on a pile of knocked-down sheets and pillows.

The rings on his hands burn with blood, like the eyes of the Devil.

San looked blissfully relaxed and languid, like a caressing predator. His golden skin seemed to glow from within with an otherworldly glow as the translucent sunlight greedily licked his body with its soft touch.

Still, there was something vaguely animalistic, almost primitively predatory, about him, which in no way connected him with the arrogant aloofness that was inherent in the entire vampire race.

There was hot blood running through his veins, making him even more dangerous.

He was unbridled.

“I don't care what Seonghwa says, if he says a word at all in the next few centuries. Personally, I would prefer that his magnificent body continue to rest in the coffin for a very long time.” A smug smile played on his sensual lips. “And unlike you, my dear brother, I don't hide my true desires.” A slow, almost lazy glance from San's silvery eyes swept over the slender body of Yeosang sitting in the chair, lingering for a moment on the pale pink patch of soft skin on his temple.

He imagines, not without pleasure, how, with particular cruelty, he tears it from the porcelain face of his beloved brother with his long claws, leaving behind a wet, gaping wound.

San hated it. His birthmark is indisputable proof of his connection with his beautiful Rose.

The sign that binds their souls tightly into a single whole.

He should have found her first that night.

“Look at you, Sangie. You act like a coward, hiding in dark corners and wandering in her dreams. Perhaps I could understand you if your wayward antics gave her pleasure. If our Rose woke up with your name on her lips, all wet and needy, so desperate for more.

You have to ignite her passion and her desire to be loved, make her feel special, and fill her with thirst and hunger for our touch and our love. All her thoughts should belong only to us. But how did we end Yeosangie? Tell me, huh? Our Rosa has an animal terror before you. Sarang is afraid of you. Isn't that really pathetic? You know, I can smell that sweet scent of fear on her sheets.” San buried his face in the soft fabric of the silk pillow on which Sarang usually slept and took a deep, slow breath. “So damn delicious… I want to eat her whole.”

All he wanted now was to feel her from the inside, so that her scent would stay forever in his lungs, merge with his blood, be absorbed into his skin, and become an integral part of it.

God, he is prepared to worship this woman and idolize her in every conceivable way. 

She was his.

Not in some figurative or metaphorical sense, no. She was his everything. A soul that fills the shell with his dead body, blood black as night, that runs through his veins, his thoughts. Every second of his life. San couldn't tell where he ended, and she began, for you were two halves fused together into a single breathing living being.

The beginning and the end of his life

If he could know death, which was no longer possible for him, he would be happy to suffocate on that heady aroma that was spinning his head like a powerful drug. And to do so until death takes him into his arms.

How beautiful would his death be! Silk sheets, roses, and Sarang are the only true loves.

“She smells so divine, Sangie; how can you resist this temptation?” His back arched gracefully. Under the golden canvas of the skin, the jagged vertebral bones were outlined, and the flexible muscles were stretched like tight velvet ribbons. The relief of his chiseled abs pressing against the bed, his thighs rushing up, creating a perfect s-line.

He moved so smoothly. A large predatory cat, draining gross sexuality and animal dominance. A true erotic vision, fringed by the diffused glow of the lazy midday sun. The smell of her fear brought out the worst in him and made him crave to devour her heart and soul, but he couldn't do it.

“You don't know shit, San. You come here whenever you want and act like a cranky kid, pouting and expressing anger because you couldn't get her first. What a pity, because I was the one who made the connection. I can feel her; I can feel her in my veins; I don't have to act like a bitch in heat fucking her bed.” Yeosang's voice was indifferently cold, so deceptively calm, but San could clearly hear the poisonous malice in every word he said.

It looks like he hit a nerve.

“You tell me you'd never been in my place, Yeosangie?”  San grinned, and on his cheeks appeared charming dimples. “You never could lie;you always spilled everything to Seonghwa like a good puppy at the first snap of his fingers. You should ask Wooyoung to teach you some lessons if you want to play games with me. We all know exactly what you do, so didn't be shy about it, honey. Do you think you can hide from Hongjoong your little dream manipulation, constant stalking, and night visits? Or how pathetic and pathetic you look, whining and wriggling like a whore when you come in with her dirty laundry, which you hide under your pillow. Oh my God, what will Seonghwa say when he finds out? You should care. Our good boy has gone to the dark side; he's going to be so disappointed that he lost his mutt. Although you know, maybe you and Wooyoung aren't as different as I originally thought. He's just as pathetic a puppy as you are, my beautiful brother, and look how that turned out for him. Perhaps you'll be the next one to end up in a coffin. I'd change my behavior if I were you. Bad boys get punished.” There was mockery and outright bullying in his voice.

That's right, they were family; their loyalty to each other was an unbreakable blood oath, and if necessary, they would be willing to die for each other. Blood is thicker than water. But the bond they shared with Sarang was different from anything that could be explained. She wasn't a missing part; to think so would be foolish. No, she was a part of themselves, a part of their dead souls, filling their bodies with a semblance of life. Something extremely more dangerous than any possible blood bond. A bond where the lines between reality and fantasy, obsession and morality, understanding and rationality were blurred.  And that bond was the reason, why Wooyoung, Yunho, and Seonghwa were still resting in their luxurious coffins. Iron, velvet, and crystal—so completely different, so frighteningly the same.

San remembers with pleasure how good it felt to drive stakes into their black hearts. The spell would be broken with a kiss. Perfectly. He hopes their sleep will be eternal. This time, it should be different. He will be the first, yes. San will be first—not Seonghwa, not Hongjoong, not Wooyoung, but him.

That's right. Everything will be the way it should be from the beginning. After all, he was the one who started it all.

Once upon a time, Sarang belonged only to him.

“San…” Yeosang hissed menacingly, digging his bony fingers forcefully into the soft feline fur, causing Yoru to meow painfully and curl up into a ball in his lap. His fangs bared, scratching his plump lower lip, and black veins trickled in an intricate pattern down his thin neck.

The brunette laughed and rubbed his cheek against the soft fabric of the pillow, covering his eyes dreamily.

The silk felt wonderful against his bare skin.

“You hiss like a kitten; will you show me your sharp little teeth?”

“You'd better watch out for your tongue, or I might rip it out.” The fierce gaze literally stabbed him. It burned and penetrated to the core of his being.

“I dare you.” The bloodied lips opened, allowing the pointed tip of his tongue to traverse the tortured, swollen flesh, licking away the blood that seeped to the surface.

“Let his lips be like rose petals - red as fresh blood.” Said the Queen Witch.

San covered his eyes and completely ignored the angry brunette. He loved to play with fire. It was his nature. If it had been Hongjoon or Mingi in Yeosan's place, he might have thought twice before poking the tiger with a stick, and of course he would never intentionally offend Seonghwa; the outcome of any of those confrontations would not have been in his favor. But this was Yeosang - airy and gentle as melting snow.

The shadows of San's long eyelashes lay in a lacy pattern on his heart-wrenching cheekbones. They were one of the most striking features of his appearance - sharp and angular - and they made his face a masterpiece. A creation skilfully crafted by the hand of a master.

Yeosang's beauty was soft and angelic, the kind of beauty one might see on the faces of the winged, plump cherubs beneath the vaulted ceilings of Gothic cathedrals. He had once admired their beauty so much, especially when he tore their flesh with his claws and tore baby, fluffy wings from their pale, soft bodies.

Such an exquisite, decadent taste.

San's beauty was of a completely different kind: vicious, dark and hypnotic. Chiseled like the eternally frozen perfection of a pagan marble god, every line of his face was sharp and deadly seductive. From the feline cut of his eyes, shimmering with silvery immortality, to the capriciously curved corners of his plump lips, always inflamed and soft, so tortured and tender from incessant biting and kissing…

San's appearance was sinful.

He was the most desirable of all nightmares, the special kind that seduces the girls of the church, then fills his bathtub with their blood and organizes orgies in the bloody pieces of their torn bodies. San was formidable and intimidating, but his aura was alluring and seductive. The terrible prospect of an inevitable end and death had never looked so appealing. Maybe he was having an affair with you, or maybe he was going to kill you. There was lust, danger, and rage. There was a delicate balance between horror and desire, as if he were the embodiment of both the horror and the charm of God. He was the man everyone secretly dreams about when they caress themselves before going to bed, in a cold, lonely bed.

He was the person who made you feel uncomfortable in your own skin and who made you experience a shivering sensation of fear that would spread over all of your exposed areas.

San was undoubtedly that person. Despite the potential for his eyes to linger on your skin, his presence was desired. Exquisite wounds, reminiscent of blossoms from damaged tissue, were created by his razor-sharp canines.

Death and sex were not enough for San; he had a craving for disorder and hot sensations.

He always wanted more, whether it was blood or pleasure. He never felt satisfied.

His sole desire was Rose—just her alone.

“Do you smell that Sangie scent?” San inhaled deeply again that intoxicating divine scent, resisting the urge to savor her flavor like a dog, choking and whimpering. “Mmmm, I want her so badly. I want her whole, every fucking cell of her body. She's driving me crazy.”

Sarang emitted a scent that was distinctly sharp and overpowering in its fragrance. Reminiscent of aged wine, it was infused with the bitterness of dark chocolate, the piquancy of red pepper, and the sweetness of roses. It tastes like sin and blessing at the same time. Like a slight saltiness akin to the tears she had shed, he longed to lick them off her rounded, flushed cheeks. The fruity sweetness of illicit fruit. The taste of his own blood. The metal and thick aroma of their sexual encounter. Thick as semen and honey.

San wants to have her. Wants her to love him. He desires his love to be reciprocated as fervently and passionately as he does.

His only wish is her love.

Although it is not enough for him to possess her love, he wants her to have an intense and almost sadistic affection for him—one that goes beyond what seems possible. He yearns for her to destroy him. Because he's confident in Sarang's ability to do so. He needs more. More than she could offer him, more than she could ever agree to. He is but a slave, created to worship her.

San's aim is to belong to her; he would go to any extent, even to the point of destroying the entire world, if that is what it takes to achieve that. The value of her love is immeasurable, and his objective is absolute.   She is the center of his life and the very essence of his being.   She is the haunting presence in his dreams, a seductive force that both seduces and tortures. The midnight idol of his desire, the serpent that dwells around his heart, tempts him to sin.

San craves her love so much, and that need is so painful, so all-consuming, and so twisted. If need be, he would kill her with his own hands, just to be sure that no one else would ever have her.

Sharing her with his brothers was like hellfire burning him from the inside out, but it was a paltry sacrifice he could make in exchange for her love.

This time, he won't let her go. This time, not even death would dare separate them. Saran will be his. She will be theirs. In life. In death. Forever and ever.

Soon.

It will happen so soon. San can't wait for the day when his Goddess is beneath him, in the cage of his body, sprawled on the black velvet of his bed. With his fangs deep into her sweet flesh, and she will screaming his name in a haze of ecstatic pleasure.

He would make her see stars. San will take her all the way to the doors of Heaven.

“San,” “San,” “San,” “San” over and over, until her voice completely collapses to a painful wheeze, until he absorbs every tiny sound she makes, every moan, every breath, every barely perceptible note, until all she will remember is his name.

Until Sarang whispers right into his lips, “I am yours.”

Soon.

In the meantime, San can patiently wait. He will wait as he always has, obediently and without complaint. He will be such a good boy. San will wait obediently, as he has done for centuries and centuries before. Until the time is right to pursue his desires, he will take all that he has dreamt of, and God will save the souls of those who get in his way.

Right now, he thinks he could die here — in her bed, surrounded by the lingering warmth of her body and her maddening scent. He would like nothing more than to show her all his passion and devotion and all the love he could give her.

He dreams of running his lips over her skin and tasting her until his whole face is wet and glistening with her juices. He will fuck her into oblivion until night turns to day and then drown her in tenderness, worshiping her caress-weary body as an obedient slave should.

Sometimes, he thinks it's not normal—the feelings he has for her. Such love simply cannot exist. How can someone love someone so much? Is it normal to hate the very existence of nature and the heavenly bodies for being able to see her beauty, which should belong to him alone?

However, these were only momentary musings until he regained his composure, dispelling any doubts. How could he even question his love? It felt so perfect and effortless, like breathing. How could such thoughts even enter his mind?

Her love was a life worth living.

It was destined since the dawn of time, when spirits roamed the earth, the sun was young, and the old gods had not yet vanished. She belonged to them, and they belonged to her. They sensed her first breath on their lips. He felt. 

Their love bloomed again—a blood rose.

Soon…

These fantasies drove him mad; every cell ignited with the desire to possess, awakening his animal predatory nature. The ugly nature of his genuinely depraved being.

He pictured Sarang biting into his neck and taking possession of him. She aimed at him as if he were nothing more than a thing, a toy for her amusement.

“Say my name, Sarang. Express your fondness for me and acknowledge that I am your only one. I want you to own me and claim me as yours. Say my name until it burns your lips. Again and again. Drink my blood, bite me to death; I'm nothing more than your slave, just a pathetic means of pleasure. Hit me. Hurt me, I beg you. I need it so badly. Please, my love, I am begging you to love me. Love… Love me so much until it kills me. That is what I wish for.”

His hips moved smoothly, grinding his arousal against the rumpled bedclothes. San moaned, breathlessly gasping as he found the perfect angle to satisfy his intense desire for release. He needs to cum; he couldn't leave here without cumming. He buried his face in the pillow, panting and whimpering like a wild animal possessed. His primal instincts demanded he leave his mark on her, to possess her and fuck her into oblivion until her belly bloated from the amount of cum pouring into her and her head felt light and empty.

His claws lengthened, digging into the mattress, leaving sickening jagged stripes as his hips moved uncontrollably, continuing to rub his throbbing wet cock against the silken folds of the crumpled sheets.

The sounds he made were almost heavenly.

Soft, extended moans that turned into pitiful sobs. He sounded like an angel in the throes of passion.

In his fantasies, San imagined drinking from her as long scarlet streams of her sweet blood ran down their naked bodies, staining everything red. How deeply he entered her body, seeing the imprint of his cock on her flat stomach as her neat, pointed nails plowed into his back into gaping lacerations.

His teeth clenched as he let out a hoarse moan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. San needed to cum; he was on the verge of madness. The need for pleasure was more obvious than anything around him at the moment. The transparent essence of his arousal dripped down onto the sheets, sticking to his golden, wet skin with every movement of his muscled thighs.

His thoughts returned to the dark, vicious images of hot animal sex. A fine shiver ran down his entire body.

He will run his tongue along every contour of the intricate bloody lines, licking up every last drop. First, the longest neck-open and vulnerable to his insatiable mouth, then lower down the hollow between the heavy breasts, rising in time with her labored breathing. His lips would close around the hard pink nipples, scraping them with his teeth, making her squeal and gasp. Lower down her flat belly, where the flowers of his hungry kisses and hard touches bloomed. Until his tongue is between the moist puffy folds of her pussy, he runs the pointed tip along the soft silken flesh, plunging deeper into the tight hole where blood mingles with her natural sweetness. He wants to feel the velvety, wet walls of her vagina clench and quiver around his tongue.

“Sarang!” His voice was hoarse, and his hands gripped the sheets beneath him with such force that his knuckles turned white, almost tearing the skin.

He looked pornographic.

San was so lost in his fantasies that he had completely forgotten about Yeosang, who was still in this room, until he was reminded of it with a sharp, painful tug of his hair. Long, thin fingers gripped the dark, damp strands with force and tilted his head back rigidly, revealing a view of a strong neck with veins swollen from exertion and beads of sweat running down her

“Here we go, such a pathetic, stupid bitch.” Yeosang said it with mockery in his voice. His lips curled into a wicked smirk, and San could feel it on his skin as the brunet whispered in his ear. “Look at you, you're nothing more than a slut; where's your pride, San, eh? The great general of the dark army, the heartless ice prince, the ruthless Ripper, is nothing more than a drooling whore shamefully rubbing his cock against the sheets.” Yeosang's fingernails dug painfully into his scalp, tugging harder on the long silk strands the color of night.

“Yes, yes, keep calling me that.” His request sounded like a plea. All Yeosang's words made him move faster, almost in desperation.

The rhythm of his hips became erratic and uncontrollable. He was close. His teeth clenched as he let out a hoarse moan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat.

“Are you imagine fucking her, Sannie, hmm? Or what would it taste like? I bet the taste will be heavenly; she's sweeter than ever in this life. Oh no, I know exactly what you're thinking.” A mocking chuckle escaped his ruby-red lips. “You want her to bite you.” Those wicked lips pressed against the frantically beating pulse point. “Right here.” Yeosang's teeth sank with force into the flushed skin of San's neck—that particular sensitive spot on his neck beneath a scattering of pale freckles.

San's eyes rolled back in pleasure, his mouth opened in a silent moan, and his hips shook with the intensity of his orgasm. Thick, hot cum splattered onto the sheets, staining them with the pale, milky liquid.

The brunet unclenched his teeth, releasing the tender skin. The bite mark was wine-red, with swollen incisor impressions and drops of black blood in the hollows. A poisonous flower, tempting to know sin.

“Sannie, look at the mess you'd made. Truly a royal fuck. I always thought it was more Mingi's style.” Finally, thin but surprisingly strong fingers let go of the silken strands, allowing San to rest his face tiredly against the pillow. His whole body relaxes after the overwhelming orgasm. The entire pillow is soaked with drool and sweat, and semen cools beneath his stomach, sticking uncomfortably to his skin.

He opens one eye and looks up at the vampire leaning over him with a lecherous smile.

“Would you like to join me, my beautiful brother? We still have a few hours before she gets home.” The brunet rolls onto his back to make room for Yeosang in the bed. His fingers run along the sculpted curves of his abs, scooping up the viscous, pearly liquid and sliding it into his mouth. “Mmm…” A long tongue swirled around his fingers, licking up every drop with lazy, slow pleasure.

“You're disgusting, San.” Yeosang puckered his lips in disgust, looking around at the brunette sprawled on the bed. He turned sharply on his heels and strode away from the room;  to he pick up Yoru on his way, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, in his arms. “Get up; we have to go. Hongjoon is calling us.”

“You're not leaving the cat?”

The brunette turned around over his shoulder, meeting his gaze with San's silver eyes.

“June misses his darling; for our little girl, it's time to come home.”

San propped himself up on his elbows, looking at the departing Yeosang. His lips stretched in a satisfied smile full of devilish anticipation.

The time had finally come.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

1st POV

"Feed me to the wolves, let them take my flesh."

“Well, I'm glad to finally meet you in a more relaxed setting, Miss Ahn. Please take a seat.” With an elegant gesture, the man motioned me to a deep leather chair in front of his desk. On the glass tabletop was a silver plaque engraved with the name “Mr. Lee Taeho”.

“Miss An” - how sad and tragic that sounds. I never wanted to try out this role. I didn't like being addressed like that, because it was always Mina, and before her, it was my grandmother, and probably my mother was addressed like that when she was alive.

But here I am, the new Miss Ahn, and unlike my predecessors, I have not sought to carry the weight of this unbearable crown. I don't need the congratulatory ribbons and the wet glitter sequins smeared across my face.

Although there was nothing in the address itself that I could call unpleasant, the tone with which it was always delivered foreshadowed the inevitable tragic ending of its own and tasted of earth and chrysanthemums.

You're bound to end up as one of them; it's not all by chance, Sarang.   Don't kid yourself.

I saw the future as a series of predetermined events, especially after Mina's death. She had the arrogance to dispose of my life as she saw fit, putting chains of obligations and secrets around my neck. I buried her in the ground, and my days became nothing more than a list of dull plans, paltry hopes, and bitter regrets, as murky as the water in the city canals through which a coffin floats. Still, I couldn't help but wonder who would be the next Miss An when I died, or would I be the one to hold that title forever?

There are never any former queens. There are only dead ones.

I could feel the blood flowing faster through my veins.

For a few moments, there was silence around us, thick and enveloping like fog. If I'd felt any hint of confidence as I walked through the tall glass doors of Silver & Black LTD, now, alone with this man, I was floundering in my social insecurity like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. I resisted the urge to squirm under the gaze of his night-dark eyes. Beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

Lee Taeho wasn't just one of Silver & Black's most successful lawyers; he was also a devilishly handsome man.

He was built like a god. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, and a tight-fitting white shirt that accentuated his muscular biceps, bulging pecs, and flat stomach. The image of strength and power was completed by the perfectly tailored, tight-fitting trousers. The rolled-up sleeves revealed several tattoos on his wiry forearms—something in Latin that I couldn't make out.

His face was also striking, with angular, pointed features that would have looked strange and out of place on anyone else, but the luscious, perfectly sculpted lips made them something unimaginable and outrageously beautiful.

I felt uncomfortable under the weight of his scrutinizing gaze. He was looking at me like I was something special, but not in a sexual or romantic way; rather, it was the look of an explorer who had found an unexpected treasure in a pile of rubbish.

“I honestly didn't expect you to have any free time in the next few months, so thank you for seeing me at such short notice.”

To be honest, I knew absolutely nothing about Silver & Black until Soomin told me about them on the way here. Soo turned out to be absolutely right when she told me about them. This place was the epitome of the arrogant domination of money and power—cold, glassy, and sterile, like a morgue where the remains of all “happy stories” are taken.

I could never belong to such a place, but I could easily imagine Mina here, with her developing blood curls and the unemotional grandeur of royalty. People like my sister were part of that 'proper' society so suited to closed Sunday clubs and icy glass offices. Like all of her kind, Mina was a great predator, used to labeling people and giving them her own names and definitions. She knew exactly how to make those around her feel uncomfortable with just one look.

Some people have everything, others nothing. It's as cruel and true as the inequality of love.

I still didn't understand how Mina had so much money to afford the services of this company, but judging by how polite and “sweetly” the receptionist greeted me at the entrance, she was very much appreciated here.

Blood of my blood.

“You have nothing to thank me for, Saran.” He said that, and I looked back at him in surprise. It wasn't so much the fact that he allowed himself a familiarity that surprised me, but the way he said my name—as if it had always belonged to his lips. It was as if he'd said it over and over again until the intonation was perfect.

My heart beats fast in my chest, but I couldn't tell if it was fear or something else entirely.

“We will always make time for you. If you'll allow me to be frank, I've left a few free hours each day, just in case you decide to call me. Honestly, I expected it to take a little less time on your part, but who am I to judge you, Sarang?”

“But why?” I tried to gather information and put it together in a way that wasn't absurd. I didn't want to assume anything.

“Why? Do I have to explain? Maybe I just wanted to see you; you're a beautiful girl, and I'm a great admirer of the beautiful. He smiled, seemingly satisfied with the embarrassment that must have been written on my face. I could feel the heat spilling over my cheeks, turning them a painfully inflamed shade of red.

I had never been a girl with a 'cute' blush. I was more like a girl burned by the gold of the sun, pressing her cheek directly against the boiling, bubbling surface of the sun.

Taeho lightly drummed his perfectly filed nails on the glass tabletop, completely ignoring my obvious embarrassment at the situation, and continued:

“But let's say that this is due to the fact that your dear sister was a valued client of ours, whom everyone here at Silver & Black LTD sincerely appreciated. Miss Ahn was our special customer. All the staff will agree with me; your sister is impossible not to love.”

“A special client?” I interjected. Somehow, that didn't surprise me at all. Of course, it was only natural that Mina was always at the center of the universe. People followed the sound of her voice like rats behind the magical melody of the flute.

“Are you surprised, Sarang? Your sister has helped our firm in many ways, bringing us new clients and introducing us to the 'right' people, making our firm one of the best in Korea. She's contributed a lot to the development of Silver & Black. There was a strange note in his voice, as if between the cracks there was something terrible—a terrible secret that could change my whole life.

For some reason, I don't feel comfortable at all right now.

“I'm pleased… hmm, or rather, I'm pleased to know that my sister has done so much for you. Lately, she and I haven't really been close, and we've barely chatted. So I didn't know where she went or what kind of people she hung out with.” My words come out a little sour, and I press my lips together.

The lovely Mina, as always, is proving to be the best. I wonder if the day will come when she damn pedestal will be nothing but a pile of ruins at my feet. I thought all this time you'd been pining for roses, but instead you've been doing the right thing. What else don't I know about you, Ahn Min?

What don't I want to know about you?

''Yes, yes, she helped us a lot. Now let's get on with signing the documents, do you mind? I don't want to keep you any longer than necessary.” His words were very dry, businesslike, and in no way in keeping with the previous flirtation. Something flashed in his eyes—concern, doubt, maybe even fear—there was a tense tremor in his hands, and his whole aura changed, as if something huge and evil had turned its attention to him.

“Sure, let's get started.”

The entire process took no more than 30 minutes. I signed document after document, with occasional detached comments from Mr. Lee, which were completely at odds with his previous behavior. There was nothing special about the documents, except for one thing: Rose Hill. As best, I could make out from the extensive stack of papers, it was a small house in the style of Victorian England. It was in the ownership of a gated cottage community, the grounds of which were owned by a private company. It was all too complex and confusing to realize the meaning in the space of 30 minutes. I'll deal with it later, most likely in the company of Soomin and a couple of bottles of wine.

“Can I sell the house I inherited, Rose Hill?” I asked without lifting my head from the papers; a few more strokes and I could be out of here. The atmosphere in the office was terribly tense; my skin itched unpleasantly and tingled in places as if it no longer belonged to me.

“To my regret, I cannot help you in this matter. In all matters concerning Rose Hill, you must deal directly with the owners of the land; I will email you their contacts.” The smile he gave me was forced, and I couldn't help but wonder what had made such a difference in his change of mood.

“Okay, thank you.” I signed the last form and handed the pile of paperwork to Mr. Lee. “I'm done; hopefully everything is settled now. Can I get a copy of the documents, preferably today?”

Taeho cursorily flicked through the pages to make sure each one was signed.

 “Our administrator, Sunwoo, will give you all the documents. There is one more thing you need to get before you leave. When you leave here, go further down the corridor to the vault, and Bora will show you a locker in the storage room that belongs to your sister. Now, if you'll excuse me, my next customer is waiting, and I don't want to keep him waiting.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Lee.” I clumsily rose from my chair, trying to get out of this stuffy room as quickly as possible. The air felt pressurized, and I felt like I was going to start suffocating a little more. I needed to get out of here right now.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Miss Ahn. Please take care of yourself.” The look he gave me was sad—so unusually sad, like the look of a man living his last day on earth. It was as if the end had come for him before he could realize it.

His words, on the contrary, were a warning. “Take care of yourself.” What kind of lawyer wishes that to a client as a farewell? Was I in danger? Perhaps you were. Although that's true, it's worth crossing out the word “perhaps”, yes, I was in danger. Could he have known about it? Did Taeho know about the roses or the people who sent those awful flowers? Was there something he hadn't told me? A thousand questions were in my head as I walked out of his office.

Mechanically, I reach for the strands of pearls at my neck and twist them around my fingers, nervousness bubbling in my stomach. This isn't some worldwide conspiracy, Sarang. Wake up.

I think I'm becoming paranoid.

The door closes softly behind me. I'm alone in a sterile, shiny corridor.

In the distance, I hear a cheerful laugh—Soomin. She was definitely laughing. Soo is having a great time waiting for me to wrap things up. Even though she was denied my escort to Mr. Lee's office, she wasn't upset at all because the nice receptionist, Sunwoo, I think his name was, was determined not to let her get bored alone.

I could have fallen in love with him. He was charming and cute, with a sweet, heart-shaped smile that would make your teeth rot. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, Armani Prive, in a thinly stitched pinstripe. I'd say he looked like a puppy. With those big, wet, shiny eyes and the way he struck the right pose when you told him to.

Yes, that was the kind of guy I fell in love with—the kind with a good reputation and a well-paid job—the kind who makes love, not fucks. They're the ones who make sure he looks you in the eye and whispers to you about how good you're feeling when he's caressing your body.

Good boys. Obedient boys. Sugar-coated like candy.

If I fell in love with a guy like that, Soomin would break him up like a Christmas candy bar and take a bite right down the middle of him. She liked that type—kind, gentle, and submissive. There had never been a lack of male attention in her life, but for some reason, Soo had always surrounded herself with this type of boy, like colorful toys. She wasn't afraid to break them because she could always move on to the next one. They never crossed her, nodding in obedience and jumping as high as she asked. Men were no more precious to Soo than broken crystal balls, shimmering but useless.

The corridor in front of me was long and empty, with a single door at the end. The sound of heels hitting marble tiles echoed in my head, and the checkerboard pattern on the marble was jarring. For a moment, I thought the corridor was narrowing like a rabbit hole, endless and dark. I was short of air, unable to breathe, and the oxygen in my lungs was as thick and viscous as swamp sludge. I clawed at my neck with my fingernails, trying to pull off the pearl collar, but I felt myself tightening it stronger. My eyes stung from tears and mascara, and ink streaks ran down my cheeks, and somehow they felt colder than they should have.

My fingernails dug into the skin on my collarbones, scratching at it with cruelty and anger.

I needed to get away from myself. To be separate from my body and the way I felt. The nightmare awakened inside me, licking my veins, working its way inside, and gnawing into my soul. My consciousness was beyond my mind.

I hear the sound of tearing threads and thousands of pearls falling at my feet, and I fall with them. I want to go back to before it all began. Before the pain, Before the roses.

Fluorescent lights flash like the tails of nameless comets on the pearly roundness of the beads. I see stars exploding behind my eyes, painting the underside of my eyelids with intricate strokes—the constellation Gemini. Nergal. I want to remember the days when roses were just roses, not home to the ghosts of my soul.

I hear a sound—it's pearls crunching under sharp heels. Under steel heels, like the teeth of the Witch Queen. 

“Oh my God, Saran!” Someone shouts. Soomin isn't laughing anymore.

Her hands are so cold against my clammy skin. She presses my face against her chest, and the feverish beating of her heart brings me back to reality. She is my white rabbit.

Voices, voices—there are so many of them. It's a cacophony of sounds and unpleasant cracking noises. The pearls keep breaking, and I keep crying.

Someone brings me a glass of unpleasantly cold water; it runs down my throat like a liquid flame.

I finally took a breath.

“Take me home.” That's all I can say right now. I want to go home, away from the world, away from the sun, and away from the memories.

“She's having a panic attack; she needs air.”

“No! I need to go home.”

“It's OK, sweetheart. I've got you,” Soo purrs, kissing the top of my head like a little baby. She pulls me off the floor with effort, lifting me to my feet.

I look down at the checkered pattern of the marble slabs and at the scattered pearls. In some places, the white slabs are smeared with red, like lipstick smeared by a kiss. This is blood. My blood.

My legs shake like a newborn fawn as Soomin leads me away from this place. Every step was painful, almost more painful than Soo's tight grip on my forearm.   “It's okay, Sarang, we're going home.”

It's okay, Sarang.

It's okay.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

“Are you sure you're feeling better?”

“Yeah, I'm fine now.” I squeezed out the shadow of a smile. Apparently it was useless; the look in her eyes remained the same: worried, with fear lurking around the edges. Fear for me.

“How long have you been having these attacks?”

“This is the first time. I guess… I don't know. Let's just say it's a consequence of trauma. I don't want to talk about it.”

“I'm so sorry.” Soo crouched on the edge of the bed, taking my hand gently. I was made of glass; she didn't want to break me or do the opposite by hurting herself on me. “It's so horrible that you have to go through all this, baby.”

“Yes, it is.” What else could I say? I could not have said a word, and everything would have been understood. The wounds under the bandage itched terribly. Long red marks stretched along my collarbones and neck. Mascara was still smeared across my face, as was the soft pink lip gloss. I looked like a mess. I was a mess.

My throat was all dry and thirsty, and my eyes were so swollen I couldn't even open them fully.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight, love? We can watch a film or something; maybe one of those stupid comedy shows Mina hated. I'll make dinner and open the wine.”

“No need; I'll be fine. Soomin, go home; you should be resting too, not babysitting me. I'm fine, really. I'm feeling better, and I'll definitely get through the night. I'll probably go straight to sleep as soon as you leave.” Much as I loved Soo, I didn't feel like seeing anyone right now.

“If you say so, Please call me in the morning as soon as you wake up, okay?”

“Of course. Be safe, Soo. Love you.” I thought I covered my eyes for only a second before I heard the click of the front door. The mark of her kiss burned on my cheek.

I don't know how many hours I sat like that—completely still, not taking my eyes off the dark landscape outside the window, which was getting brighter now that a little moonlight was seeping through the thick clouds.

I didn't want to get out of bed, drowning in pillows and blankets like a pipe dream. I felt good in my bed. I couldn't understand what exactly had changed, but I could feel the change. Even in the morning, the bed had been cold and lonely, but now the silk under my fingers was warmer and softer to the touch. Even the smell of the blankets seemed to be different, like purple lilies and musk, a scent that remotely reminded me of something very familiar but long forgotten. Could it have been Soo's perfume? No, more like the scent that Yoru always brought with her.

By the way, where did she go? She was here when I left this morning, but knowing her talent for disappearing and reappearing at will, I didn't hold out much hope of seeing her today. It would be nice to have her around now, though.

I rolled onto my side, resting my cheek against the pillow. I didn't want to sleep, but I didn't want to get out of bed either. My gaze settled on the small box that lay on the chair across from the bed. A casket from a storage locker.

After my panic attack, Soomin took it away, since I was apparently incapable of doing so. Next to it was a neat stack of papers with black paint poisonously embedded in them, listing all the possessions I now owned, including Rose Hill, but the most valuable and important thing was kept in this little silver coffin.

The metal walls of the casket shimmered like liquid silver when moonlight hit them. I was mesmerized by this otherworldly glow. Number 0711 - Miss Ahn Mina. Sometimes a lifetime can be folded like origami and placed on a velvet cushion like a collector's item.

I struggled with myself for a few more minutes before I threw back the blankets and got out of bed. My curiosity outweighed my fear. At that moment, I had to remind myself that “curiosity killed the cat,” and if I had been any smarter, I would have thrown the box to hell and never thought of it again.

The box opened silently, and I felt a chill, as if someone had dipped my heart in ice water. There weren't many things in the box—something old, something new, and something blue—all like a wedding tradition. It wasn't like Mina. She had always despised the idea of marriage; the very thought of anyone daring to claim her freedom made her sick.

It wasn't for her, and it wasn't for me.

Weddings are gorgeous, creamy bouquets of fragrant flowers that breathe in the dawn. At the end of a long journey down a narrow church aisle, a handsome prince awaits with the promise of eternal love. As if. Girls, guard your hearts, for they will eat them for breakfast. Piece by piece, like a birthday cake, until there's nothing left to keep you alive.

Then there'll be another, just as naive. And then another, and so on, endlessly. That's all love is. A streak of devil's rubies and eaten hearts.

There was no heart and no love in that box. Just one little piece of paper with torn edges and a handful of precious trinkets. Just one small puzzle piece that had fallen out of a huge and complex picture. I could recognize Mina's handwriting from a million others, but the words written on that little piece of paper were not hers. In each letter lurked something that had never belonged to Mina; her hand had scrawled those lines, but her lips had never uttered those words.

“My only love. My divine Rose, when I leave this world, I will leave you everything you could ever want. When you read this, I will be gone. Everything has been arranged; everything is ready for you. The whole world will belong to you, my love. I took care of it. On the back of this page, I have left the number of my good friend. Please give him a call; he will help you with all the things you need. He'll be waiting for you. He is the only one you can trust, Sarang. Your beloved Mina P.S. Don't forget, love is eternal.”

I flipped the sheet to the other side. The handwriting was the same but so different; the letters were sharp and crumpled, as if they were written in a hurry.

Hongjoong. I had heard that name before. I knew the taste of it on my tongue.

My fingers hurriedly dialed the number; I didn't look at the time, and, to be honest, I didn't care. I wanted to make sure that he was real and that this wasn't another one of her crazy fantasies that would lead me down a blind alley. I needed to know that Hongjoong wasn't fiction but blood and flesh, intermittent breathing, and an unevenly beating pulse.

At the other end of the phone, the long beeps were interrupted, there was a static pause for a second, and then I heard the sleepy and so welcome sound:

“Hello.”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez yandere #ateez x reader #kpop smut #ateez fanfic #yandere ateez #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez ot8 #ateez imagines

[redditreceipts]

https://www.tumblr.com/genderkoolaid/736795285384216576/

🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯

The only coherent, non-rabidly misogynist and factually right thing OP say in this whole thing is at the very beginning when she recognized transgenderism as a completely made up modern human concept XDDDDD

Okay, let’s go through this word by word:

you can piss of both because it's just blatantly wrong and stupid. I could also say "the earth is flat" and piss of the catholic church and trans activists. what have I proven? nothing.

correct so far lmao

well yeah, everyone shares common experiences with trans and genderqueer people, because nobody identifies and behaves 100% according to their assigned gender at birth

woah, if I didn’t know that this was a gendie blog, I would think that this is a terf lmao. yes, some women are trans (aka trans men), and some men are trans as well (aka trans women)

I mean yeah, if you define “transphobia” as “opposition to gender nonconformity”, she sure as hell lived through transphobia. it’s just a bullshit definition, because being gender non conforming does not imply being trans. the thing with these definitions (i.e. defining trans as “not identifying with your gender assigned at birth” or defining transphobia as "an opposition to gender non-conformity") is that in this type of analysis, there is simply no space for gender non-conformity. every type of discrimination a gnc person experiences is transphobia, and every gnc person is trans or genderqueer.

yeah, maybe she just wore this type of clothing because she liked it. maybe she thought it looked stylish. maybe it suited her best. maybe she had sensory issues with skirts and dresses. maybe she really got a message from God. maybe she wanted to protect herself from sexual violence. it literally doesn’t matter, because she should be able to wear whatever she likes for whatever reason

good for her that she stood by what she wanted to do and started wearing the clothing she liked (which happened to be associated with the male sex in that time). and yeah, the society of that time was sexist, so they probably wanted to punish her for crossing gender roles

i mean, many gnc women wear clothes that are typically associated with the male sex for very different reasons, not just as a means to an end. women have always seen things that defy the patriarchy as vital to their soul, like loving other women, abortion, wearing certain clothes, doing certain trades etc. all of these things could have gotten them killed at one time or the other. you just pick “wearing masculine clothing”, because for you gender is just about fashion statements. 

also, nobody presents as cisfeminine, because femininity is an unreachable standard imposed by patriarchy, and “cis” would imply a total identification with that absurd standard. everyone is gnc in one sense or the other, some less and some much more, so there is really no inherent transness about Jeanne D’Arc. 

no, I don’t care about what the Catholic Church says, and we also don’t know whether Jeanne D’Arc actually heard some divine commandments or whether she just had mania or schizophrenia or something. It doesn’t matter at last, because “genderqueer” is not a useful analysis of anything. the human condition is one of being “genderqueer”, because at least for women, it is considered genderqueer to not shave - our natural bodies are “genderqueer”. you’re “queering” something that didn’t exist in the first place - a happily gender-conforming woman. Jean D’Arc is "genderqueer" because she did what she wanted, like every woman who does what she wants is "genderqueer". every free woman is “genderqueer”, every happy woman is "genderqueer", every courageous woman is "genderqueer". 

so in conclusion, this is not per se wrong, because gendies will just define any word how they like it and don’t do any analysis in the end, because the definition of things like “genderqueer” or “trans” is constructed in such a way that it always confirms the point the author wants to make. but because of its tautological nature, we don’t learn anything. 

but the huge problem with this type of analysis is that the language of “her gender expression”, “her masculine gender expression as vital to her soul”, and the individualised analysis of an experience that fundamentally, all women share to varying degrees: the inability to remain both a whole human and to submit to patriarchal demands. You can’t be gender-conforming and be a full autonomous member of society. And in that sense, being “trans” or “trans-adjacent” is an emotion that every woman shares, some more and some less. The thing is that gender roles were never meant to produce a woman that fulfils them completely, they were only ever meant to occupy women’s minds enough so they don’t start a revolution. 

But why do we have to call that very natural impulse “genderqueer”, implying that feeling like this distances you from womanhood in any way? Feeling like patriarchy is restrictive is the most female thing anyone could experience, and is a confirmation of Jean D’Arc’s womanhood. 

#radical feminism #radfem #radfems please interact #radblr #radical feminists do interact #radical feminists please touch #gender critical #terfblr #gc feminism #gc feminist #gender abolition #radfems please touch #radfem safe #listen to trans women #misogyny #reddit #feminism

[erikiara80]

March 22nd and all the birthday references in ST

Will's birthday has always been important.

A birthday mug in episode 1

Same mug in Mike's basement. We see it in scenes with El in S1 and Will in S2. Yeah, I think birthdaygate could be about her, too. Will is the only character whose birthday was used to literally save him and the whole town. And we've seen El's birth and birth certificate, but we still don't know when she was born? Strange

The I forgot your birthday card in Will's room in S1

But in S2 we only see it when Joyce looks at the Will the Wise drawing. In all the other shots the card is not there, and the drawing is on another wall. This could be a hint at different timelines (of a timeloop?) More screenshots here

Basically, I have two theories about Will's birthday: either people really forgot it in S4, or the Will who was born on March 22 is the brown-eyed Will in the Missing poster, in the timeline we see in the shed scene, and not the hazel-eyed Will we see in the rest of the show. Maybe they hid the truth in plain sight, they let people believe that his eyes were different because he was possessed. But then in S3 they show that Billy's eye color never changes (here) Can't wait to see what this means

No birthday card in these shots

Lesbianmindflayer found a video posted on the official IG account in August 2017. At the time, they had already filmed S2, they knew there was an important scene about Will's birthday, so why posting the wrong date? Is it actually a mistake, or that's really his birthday in another timeline? We'll see!

The amazing shed scene. One of my favorite! Joyce talks about Will's 8th birthday. That was in 1979, the year of the massacre. She also mentions his rainbowship, a hint at his queerness, but also a reference to the lab. And I think there's a connection to the "rainbow rocket" near Creel House, and the ship of Brenner's father, who was involved with Project Rainbow, and the first man to wind up in Dimension X. This scene is so important!

Will drawing a spaceship could also be a parallel to Olivia Dunham (Fringe), who drew what she saw in another universe. A Zeppelin

Olivia's drawing (Byler-Polivia parallel and Subject 13)

3x03. Happy Birthday and '76 on the poster. The lifeguard is talking to El and Max here. My theory about what this could mean and what might have happened in 1976 here and here

The original title of episode 3x06 was The Birthday. There is no birthday in that episode, but after the intro, the song that plays is Stand up and Meet your brother, and then El meets the Mind Flayer/Vecna (as a lab kid, Henry is kinda her brother), who is possessing a boy named William. A surfer boy.

Episode 3x08, posters of Firestarter and Sixteen Candles. Will is associated with fire, and in Sixteen Candles a girl hopeful thar her 16th birthday is the beginning of a great year, is shocked when her family forgets it because her sister is getting married the next day.

Sixteen Candles and a boy's 16th birthday are also mentioned in S4, and it is likely that S5 is set in 1987, after the time-jump, when Will is 16.

S4. There are so many mentions of birthdays in this season, it's crazy to think that the writers forgot Will's birthday.

Mentions of birthday and stolen thoughts in the opening scene.

Birthday party at Rink-o-mania. I could be wrong, but it looks like a party for two people, to me. And there's a hidden reference to the massacre. The game Asteroids was released in 1979 (here)

The scene that made many people believe that the writers forgot Will's birthday.

March 22. The Rink-o-mania scene is a parallel to the lab scenes, Asteroids was released in 1979, and the day of the massacre El remembered her birth. Maybe a hint that her birthday is also on March 22?

They call her little baby, and two of the bullies are twins.

Murray says that a one-year-old won't remember their birthday

Also, the wallpaper reminds me of these birds we see in his house, when Alexei explains how the two keys open a gate

Murray says that his "son" is almost 16

Mention of Sixteen Candles

Mike's Happy Birthday mug

At Suzie's, Will mentions Dustin's birthday

Yeah, I think something will happen to Will in 1987, when he's 16. And it won't be funny, lol. But he'll get his happy ending.

Happy birthday, Will!

#birthdaygate #will byers #march 22 #el hopper #mike wheeler #the first shadow spoilers #st analysis #st theory #timeloop theory #stranger things

[kvetchlandia]

Hey Everyone...

Today is the 14th anniversary of my birth on Tumblr.  I can’t believe I’ve been posting my assorted manias and bugging you with my various rants for so long!  I actually find it odd that I’ve totally passed through Bumblr infancy and childhood and I’m now well into Dumblr adolescence (as though once through the physical version thereof wasn’t enough).  I’ve been hanging around this place so long that I can actually remember Stumblr when it was a new, loose, fun platform and I’ve lived through its degeneration into self-righteous virtue signaling, it’s introduction of censorship and its hysteria over “female-presenting nipples.”  I’m still here, and I’m happy that you are, as well.  So, I’d like to thank all of you for joining me in my little corner of the webworld and for indulging me in my photographic and musical obsessions and in my occasional rants.  I want to thank you also for the messages you sometimes send me, which are always welcome and which I always try to respond to somewhat quickly.  It’s pleasant to know that when one is up in the wee small hours, wasting time with silliness, that we aren’t alone.  For those of you who follow me, I’m totally flattered and grateful, and for the occasional in-wanderers, thanks for dropping by.  And now, overture, hit the lights...it’s time to get back to the show.  

[skippyv20]

Hi Skippy! I was thinking this morning about how blessed  this entire community is to have you as our fearless leader. I’ve followed you for years, and have often sought your advice and counsel on many very personal issues. You never fail to come through with wisdom, empathy, and kindness. So thank you for being you and shining some much-needed light onto this world. 

I wanted to give you a long-overdue update. I am the attorney anon who wrote last year about mental health, job, and family struggles, including a challenging marriage, a child with special needs, and a new diagnosis of bipolar disorder after suffering 30 years with wrong diagnoses and medication.

First the good news: my moods have stabalized on a new cocktail of meds, and I haven't had a severe depressive episode for almost a year! My mania is better too, but I do have some uncomfortable side effects. I am on lithium, and I worry about kidney issues and/or developing diabetes, which are two possible side effects.

Second bit of good news - I'm now working back at my old organization. If you told me that this time last year, I'd never have believed you. I was convinced my days as an atty were over because of my mental health issues. I considered filing for disability. The role is one I haven't held in 8 years, I had moved onto a prestigious position in that org before jumping ship to another org for a promotion. So it's a bit humbling to be back in this role, but I'm grateful to be here. I was stuck in a nightmare at my last job, which included at the end fighting disability discrimination.

Bad news: I still worry about my son, who is now 7, and doesn't seem to be where he needs to be. I've done everything for him, 4-5 different therapies a week since his premature birth. He has a physical disability and, while he is very smart and can keep up with his class, he just seems different than other boys his age.

My husband is incapable of providing emotional support, and I do think sometimes I'm in an emotionally abusive relationship. I am not happy, he is not happy, but I'm so afraid to cut the cord. My brother is going through a divorce and I know if I do too it'll cause my elderly parents even more distress. But this is a guy who - get this - snapped at waiters who came to the table carrying (free) cake to sing  happy birthday a few weeks ago. It was crazy and scary, and i just don't want to deal with a person like this anymore. I'm 42 now, not in my mid-30s like when you told me to be strong and leave him years ago...is it too late? I see signs of aging when I look in the mirror and I've gained some weight. I'm worried I've lost all of my appeal and don't want to be alone. My husband is very responsible and does do a lot of things around the house and for our son. If he didn't, it'd be a no brainer to divorce, but maybe it's worth salvaging for the help with things I can't always get to because of my issues? Not to mention our son would be crushed. 

Hi! So nice to hear from you. Thank you for such kind words, but I must say…I am NOT a leader. I am just here struggling along with everyone else. We get through one day at a time, together! Nice to know some things have changed. That is so wonderful your meds are working so well. Don’t spend time worrying about the side effects. If you focus on those you are robbing yourself of joy. If you just keep going for your scheduled appts with your doctor, he will be watching for you.

I understand what you mean about being in one job and going back to another. I was working as a secretary in the government. I was chosen to create a new intake position, that was non existent. It was a six month term. At the end of the six months, I was back as a secretary being supervised again, by the same woman I had been supervising for six months. Everyone thought it was so strange. I didn’t though. I look at things differently I guess. A job is a job, and whatever it is, as long as you know you are doing the best you can….it doesn’t matter what the job is. You just take it one day at a time. After all, a job is not your whole life…right?

Children are strange little things. They do things at their own rate. He sounds like he is doing very well, he is keeping up! Great job! Seems different than other boys? That is ok…your child is who he is….it’s not a contest. Different is ok. My daughter was different as a child, an old soul. She is different now as she is bipolar. There are quirks….makes life interesting…..embrace him, just as he is….

I will always advise anyone who is being emotionally or physically abused to leave. You say you aren’t happy, and he isn’t happy? Perhaps a marriage counsellor? People get too comfy in their lives, and don’t want to change things. No one likes the unknown future. You mention your parents, and your son being distressed? Timing is always a problem…when is the best time? You say your husband is a great help…see to me…there must still be something there, I couldn’t find one good reason to stay with my ex, and believe me…he did all the cooking, he cleaned like no other, he did everything….that was one of the biggest problems for me…I couldn’t do anything, he told me that all the time.

Bipolar people can see things differently. They can hear things said one way only….it will be negative. It takes time, love and patience to communicate with someone who is bipolar. People don’t understand that unless you tell them. I have had to learn to speak to my daughter differently. Maybe you need to explain that to your husband. If you want to save this marriage, it will take work on both sides. Communication is everything. I know some think being bipolar one just needs meds….no…not true. It’s much more involved than that.

Anyways, I am so proud of you! You sound so much better. I really, really appreciate you dropping by, so nice to hear from you. You are in my prayers. I send love and hugs….and…thank YOU for staying with me!🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[quicklikelight]

... In light of the last thing I reblogged, since I'm not actually sure if I ever I ever told folks here...

Mental health/medical diagnosis info under the cut.

I was misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2010 following the birth of my son. I'd had anxiety, depression, and what I now know is OCD symptoms for years at that point, but they all got much worse after kiddo was born. I believe I've shared here before that I was very ill while pregnant, and nearly died before and during my emergency C-section that bright kiddo into the world. I have very few memories of my pregnancy but the ones I do have are impressed into my brain like the world's most depressing stamp collection: not neat pictures, but deep grooves that form shapes and can be laid over one another to see the cumulative chaos, the terror that I still feel every time someone puts a blood pressure cuff around my arm, the dissociation from my body that I still have because all I can remember was it hurting.

I had cptsd before I ever got pregnant, but my pregnancy made my symptoms so much worse, and a doctor who spoke to me for three seconds gave me the "convenient" diagnosis of bipolar disorder. I was a young woman in college, it was 2010, and he never asked me anything about my life. This diagnosis wasn't corrected until 2022.

I'm sharing this because in the past I frequently blogged about being bipolar. I wasn't bipolar though. What I thought was mania was just my behavior when I was triggered beyond my ability to ignore. What I thought was depression was... Well, it was depression. My life was miserable, my ex is a horrible human being who deserves to be thrown in a deep pit full of snakes, my family hates me and acts like it, I lived in Texas of all places, and on top of that I was working in a dead end job that I couldn't ever seem to escape.

In 2020, I was fortunate enough to move in with my friend LC and her family. We weathered the worst of lockdown together, our children becoming close friends, and I'm grateful for the time, energy, space, and love LC afforded me to begin recovering from a lifetime of wounds.

I'm 2021, I moved to New York state to live with my best friend, my heart's companion, @tofixtheshadows. Dea has been the best partner I could want as I grappled with my changing sense of self, the sheer madness and unreality of what my life used to be. I am so fortunate to call her my best friend and to be able to share my life with someone who knows me and wants to help me be better.

I found a psychiatrist in 2022 who changed my life when she said, "I believe everything you say that happened to you. I think bipolar disorder is a convenient diagnosis for a man to give a traumatized young woman when he isn't interested in doing his job well. You aren't bipolar, Anne. You have PTSD."

I was shocked. I shouldn't have been, since I already knew Dea thought I had PTSD. But it seemed so out of left field to me, that... Well, that maybe there hadn't been anything inherently wrong with me in the first place, as I had been led to believe, but that the years of horrible actions happening around and to me had just taken their toll.

It was liberating. Scary, but good.

I've been working with my psychiatrist and a therapist since to try and build more tolerance, better coping skills, and to process my trauma. It's slow going. Life doesn't stop because I need EMDR. But it's ultimately been so rewarding, and I'm still only in the early stages of the work.

Last year, for basically the first time in my adult life, I was able to go off of all my mood altering medications. I just didn't need them anymore.

I'm still in treatment and working toward goals that will probably take a while. But I am happy. I'm actually happy for the first time in my entire life. And to me, that's pretty much everything.

#about anne

[tr4umaborn]

** IMPORTANT INFO RE: TJ HAMMOND

a study in. drug abuse / addiction,  self harm,  suicidal ideation / attempts,  over dosing,    bipolar I disorder  (  which includes mania episodes,  heavy depressive episodes,  anxiety,  and minor psychosis breaks  ),  bdsm / submissive behaviors,  sex as a coping mechanism,  in being the bad twin,  the nature of growing up addicted,  undiagnosed mental illness, the golden gay, an opposite role model, making music until your fingers bleed, the minor chord, living fast dying young

full name. thomas james hammond also known as. tj, teej, golden boy date of birth. 02 / 19 / 1984 age. 38 zodiac. pisces sun / libra moon / leo rising gender. male (ish) pronouns. he / they romantic orientation. homoromantic sexual orientation. homosexual occupation. pianist / influencer / model species. human birthplace. raleigh, north carolina, united states current home. new york city, ny, us nationality. he's never asked beyond being american ethnicity. just another dumbass white boy language(s). english parents. president elain barrish, former president bud hammond siblings. twin brother - douglas hammond other family members. lydia martin - basically a sister thanks significant other + children.  canon: mieczyslaw stilinski-hammond (husband) @mieczlw jason stilinski-hammond (son) @jasnstilnski the bee and jenna cinematic universe: antonio dominico marcus rizzotti marvel au: bucky barnes @whtwclf faceclaim. thomas doherty hair. brown + short eyes. baby blues height. 6 ft build. as an addict: too skinny for his own good when sober: muscular from getting addicted to the gym dominant hand. left scars. one of his left arm from the singular time he shot up, plenty of scars on his chest and back for boys who were too rough both in the bedroom and in the bar tattoo. many small pieces in easily coverable places piercings. one on his right ear, many on his left ear, had an eyebrow piercing decided against it, nose stud and septum vurrent positive traits. sensitive, whimsical, romantic, charming, artistic, gentle, love of beauty and harmony negative traits. gullible, gregarious, dependent, cagey likes. giving and receiving gifts, sweets, coffee, massages, cocaine (unfortunately), fuck boys (even more unfortunately) dislike. being wrong, being proven wrong, fears & phobias. disappointment, drowning wishes & dreams. to not be in the spotlight because of his family, but instead because of himself. mbit. ESFP - The Entertainer moral alignment. neutral evil enneagram type. type 3 - the achiever

biography.

 THE GOLDEN SON  𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. now imagine the feeling of floating away into the nether reaches of space. imagine the way slipping up into the air would make you feel – do you feel the air around you at all? is there enough oxygen to make the trip sliding up through the sky and into the unknown worth it? or will the whole experience just leave you clawing at your own skin because it’s burning from the inside out without the attentive oxygen filling up your pores?

the headline read : 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 but there’s nothing golden about the downward decent into enveloping madness. he was not born mad ( and really is anyone? ) but had the madness set upon him by the events that took place. born ninety seconds before his twin brother douglas, thomas james hammond was smiling when he came out into the world. it may be hard to tell now, but from that first moment he has always known that he wanted to experience all that life had to offer. the happiness didn’t end much at all in the first ten years of his life ( except for when it did, but according to doctors he was simply a growing boy with a growing mind ). even through the first campaign and moving into the white house ( seven year olds still in awe that they have this much space to play in ) his smile stayed so strong. there were things that made it even brighter : his brother, his mama, telling stories with a flashlight under the blanket long past their bedtime. but there was one thing that kept him happy, kept the madness at bay when it threatened to show its burning head.

music never wanted to kill him. while it may be an artist’s curse to feel everything so fucking fully, it isn’t the art form that grabbed him with sharp jaws. he picked up his first piece of sheet music at three years old, and everyone in the family broke out the camcorders. 𝐨𝐡 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 they’d say as he banged tiny fingers on keys. those tiny fingers grew into the keys. passion and music weaved together, only those within his most inner circle allowed to see what really showed. books upon books begin to get filled through the years. music notes that look like water as they swim across the pages of score sheets. his happiness isn’t dependent on his music, but his music has always and will always provide him with natural serotonin that he chases after in the powder of small bags.

fear and loathing keep him from doing well in school. doug is the favorite twin with grades and extra curriculars that fill out the resume how every college wishes it would. he’ll go to princeton or yale or harvard or wherever the fuck he wants and tj instead knows exactly where he’s headed ( 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 ) but his steps to get there are the difficult part. first he must survive high school : where his best friends are snow and addie. they provide the blanket of protection he needs when he finds himself on the wrong side of his first tmz article.

the first son is a fag? it didn’t say that, but when he read it it really may as well have. the world plucked him from the closet just before y2k ; a fifteen year old boy with a life sentence. first came tmz, then the times article, and then before he knew it he’s suddenly the country’s most famous gaybie. to america that makes him their sweetheart, but the world never knows what sweethearts do when they’re craving sweet tarts.

the same year he found himself on the wrong side of a conversation. while the world doesn’t know it, having your father be the 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚 really makes these trying times much easier to keep undisclosed, he knows the truth of it all. the good ole boy’s private school couldn’t have a drug addicted slut making a bad name for their school, so they banished him to the other realm. or you know. . . expelled him. he finds himself in the countryside of france for the next two years where catholicism is the ruling decree and drug addicts rule the halls. it’s here he rules the school with charlotte arnold by his side, and cross my heart and hope to die those two are a dangerous duo.

college isn’t for everyone, but for a hammond it is an expectation. he’ll start his education one place, and eventually end it in another. the location doesn’t matter : after all there are phones on cameras and street corners now. his antics can destroy his life no matter what he ends up. wherever he is, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬.

 COCAINE DREAMS  and what about the snow? playing in the white confection as the world keeps spinning around you. it’s comfortable, holding you and keeping you warm when the world outside is desperately freezing. why wouldn’t you jump into it’s open arms that widen more for you? it doesn’t feel good to leave it’s grasp so you stay there. where you are wanted. where you are needed. 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝.

he feels everything so fully that even empathy doesn’t cover it. with elders describing his symptoms as a side effect of drug abuse, tj knows the symptoms came first. 𝐢𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 ( and if only when he screamed it was outside of his mind ) they wouldn’t feel the pain of every time he runs. snow opens her beautiful arms for him and through out his twenties he jumped too far into her arms. some moments were easy – someone at a party helped him sleep it off or his few friends gave him the space to grieve the loss of his sanity. other moments hurt more – nearly dying in a crackhouse in canada just over the border line from buffalo. or the time he thought a bottle of downers was a bottle of uppers and sent himself spiraling more when trying to fix his own problems. he’ll hurt those he loves with every gram that goes up his nose.

after tj and doug turned 24, elaine barrish hammond began her first campaign for president. in a never shocking turn of events, people seemed more interested in a third term of bud ( even though they knew the scandals he locked in his closet ) instead of elaine. he doesn’t care ; after all, a tour de usa means he can find a fuck in all 50 states. they want to use him as a puppet like always? not a person, not a son, but a 𝐭𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞.

she ends up secretary of state, and tj ends up with a forced residency in dc once again. at 25 years old he is beginning to 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠. no one notices when republican senator sean reeves of ohio begins to steal glances at the ex first son. what’s worse is the reciprocation. tj on the wrong end of those glances turns into allowing someone to devour him whole while knowing he’ll spit him up and throw him out. the details of his sobriety, and his happiness, are unfortunately unimportant ( after all, they come at the hands of a false idol ) and instead the focus shifts to the inevitable ending. our sweetheart feels the false love ooze from every pore ; it leaves him as the tears spill from his red rimmed eyes. there’s a car, and a garage, and it’s all he can think to do in a split second. how might a mother, who loves her children with all of her heart despite how she hurts them so, feel when she finds her son no longer inhaling fumes because he’s passed out? ask elaine barrish.

no one knows for over a year, names and pseudonyms being confused and dispersed. forced sobriety normally didn’t work for tj, but this time rehab seemed to get through to him. he can maintain a sense of sobriety, nothing that’s considered illegal or prescribed to others, until 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. the puppet is now a pawn, an article being published on the suicide attempt of america’s sweetheart. he watches the story unfold on the news while sharing a straw to soak up snow on his dealer’s couch.

the rest of his life will never look the same. he realizes that sobriety is a privilege he has to work for. feeling everything makes the lows lower and the highs higher. when no one will name it ( maybe one day a doctor will say the word bipolar to him outloud ) how can you treat it? mania gives him excitement, but with it comes his chest being ripped to shreds by his own mind. 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭, 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭?

#** about: tj. #** headcanons: tj. #uh.... all of the things to avoid are in the top there LOL #i wrote this bio in 2022 and it's just a very good tj bio #anyway i develop a LOT of ships for tj hehe #90% of the time i write him in his addict phase from 20-27

[theshebinator]

✪ PARTNERS MUST BE 18 OR OVER ✪

✎ INTRO

Sheb | 27 | He/They | ENG

I'm pretty new to the rp scene. Started on a whim in 2022 and fell in love with it! I'm not a beginner writer though, and I have about 15 years of fiction, fanfiction, and comic scripting under my belt to prove it!

✎ 3rd person, semi-lit to lit. No pressure for timely responses. VERY open to novel-length rps and long, convoluted AUs and plot lines. Will happily keep going until one of us dies.

WILL DO - Adult content (must be over 21), angst, fluff, light gore (think slightly above PG-13), villains, OCxOC, AUs, crossovers

WILL NOT DO - incest/pedo/zoo, self harm, suicide, age regression, bodily waste, homophobia/transphobia/racism/sexism/bigotry of any kind (EVEN if its fictional! I just don't want to), drugs, non-con

ALL smut and romance rp will require clear consent and all parties may revoke consent at any time for any reason.

Exclusively on Discord, Tupperbox or similar preferred.

DM if interested! ૮ • ﻌ - ა

OCs and Fandoms under cut

✎ OCs

Sedgewick Wolke - Alien, 30s, He/Him. Nerd, out of touch, well-meaning, gay. Imprisoned for 8 years after accidentally destroying his kind (whoops!). Trying to make up for it all, needs everyone all day long to like him so much.

Sybil Wolke - Alien, 20s, She/Her. Cunning, dry wit, impulsive, will kill you, bisexual. Thrust into leadership after 90% of her kind was killed, bearer of the curse (chosen from birth to be a messiah. She's handling it really well.) Sedge's sister.

Rin - Wolf, Adult, She/Her. Tough, kind, used to looking our for herself. Bastard child with a strained relationship with her dad, but knows how to swing a staff.

Neska - Wolf, 20s, He/Him. Gooey center with a tough outer shell. Was born to breed new gods and die a horrible violent death by said gods. Mama's boy, large build but frail health.

Ha Forte - "Catgirl" (alien), 30s, She/Her. Rough and tumble, but very short with most of her weight in her tail. Pansexual. Researcher on earth, unfortunately landed in rural Michigan. Something of a tinkerer.

Sophia - Lesser Gryphon, 50s, She/Her. Lesbian. Ornery, crotchety, and desperately lonely. Doesn't like to talk about her past much and prefers to be left alone. Has a soft spot for kids, though.

Harley "Happiness" Stermann - Star Entity, 20s, He/They. Pansexual. Egomaniac, paranoid, flashy, has done things he's not proud of. Has a strained relationship with the truth.

Maxim "Mania" Stermann - Star Entity, 20s, He/They. Pansexual. Even worse than Harley, but doesn't feel any shame about it. Stereotypical villain, loves violence and bloodshed. Can be tamed, but not recommended. Harley's brother.

All my OCs are open to be shipped with yours if you want!

✎ FANDOMS

Wandersong - Miriam mainly, but will happily be Kiwi or Audrey, or any minor characters as needed. LOVE Mirikiwi, Audwi, RGB!! And AUs!

Adventure Time - Ice King / Simon Petrikov is my preferred role, but still flexible. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO WINTERKOV/SIMONCEST WITH ME!! Petricrazy and Wintergrof are also great!

Don't Starve (Together) - If you want Maxwell to berate you for thousands of words, I'm your man! I also like being Wes and Wilson. LOOOOVE Maxwil and Wilwes!!

Homestar Runner - Strong Bad main, yet flexible here too. More than willing to rp my OverloadAU as Homestar. STRONGSTAR NATION!!!

Send me an ask or DM me if you're interested! I might even doodle scenes from rps winkwonk

#rp intro #roleplay #rp search #wandersong #adventure time #dont starve #dont starve together #homestar runner #oc rp #fandom rp #strongstar #winterkov #simoncest #mirikiwi #rgb #petricrazy #maxwil #wilwes

[thewhumpcaretaker]

The Broken Veil: Summary of Unfinished Remaining Chapters

As I mentioned in the author's notes, I've had a mental health crisis related to maladaptive dreaming/limerence/mania/I-don't-exactly-know while writing this story. I'm going to stop and focus on the real people who care about me. So, here's the spoiler-filled outline of what the rest would have looked like to prevent myself from returning to the project. If you want to know what would have happened, here it is!

With that, this blog is going dark.

With love for all whumpees, real and fictional,

TheWhumpCaretaker

Helen and John talk with The Bowery King. They explain why Helen is invulnerable and propose revolution. “How many assassins are there in New York alone? And how many of them chose this life? Don’t you think something is out of balance?” He agrees to back them. However, he is interested in using her powers to his own advantage.

The Director hears what’s been happening and puts out the call for information about Helen. Helen’s grave is exhumed. There is no body, only her clothes. The Director is afraid of hell. “It’s hard to tell who’s dead and who’s alive these days. Gianna D’Arentino’s dead and then she’s missing and then she’s back…and now this mysterious woman claiming to be Helen Wick.”

They go to confront Santino. Helen talks John down from killing Ares and they leave her with a knife in her aorta, incapacitated but with the option to survive if she doesn’t pursue them.

Helen shoots Santino. Winston: “Your wife is excommunicado.” Helen: “Can’t kick me out of a club I’ve never joined.” Unfortunately, John is responsible for Helen’s behavior while on Continental Grounds, so he may still be excommunicated too.

Conversation with Winston (and Ares?). “How do you know that that…thing is your wife? How do you know it’s not some bride of the devil?” “Because I am the devil, and she is my bride.”

Helen meets John’s new dog. Pure fluff.

The High Table holds a trail to decide whether John is liable for Helen killing Santino, his marker holder. Meanwhile, they are assembling a team, first contacting Gianna and Cassian. Cassian is immediately onboard, Gianna is not. Helen makes her realize how much she loves Cassian through some means and she joins them.

Others who join include Caine, Sophia, and Ares. Winston is reluctant to join, not wanting to let go of the world as he knows it and his position of power. John fears for his life in the coming war.

They discover that Helen is pregnant. “What if this is why you were sent back? What if we only have nine months together?”

John proposes to Helen for a vow renewal, because they said “till death do us part,” and now he knows that death will not part them.

At some point, mission to kill the head of the high table.

At some point, John is stranded in the rain with severe injuries until Helen can find him, followed by a sicfic chapter.

At some point, existential crisis chapter. Winston is wounded or dead. John asks, “Why are there beings at all? If we’re all headed for nonbeing…why can’t we just shorten the trip?” “Because of the becoming. Out there, nothing changes. Don’t you want things to change, John? We aren’t finished yet.”

At some point, the movement begins burning the money and leverage held by all heads of crime throughout the world.

At some point, they call for the end of all markers. “No debts, no markers.”

At some point, John and Helen’s vow renewal takes place.

At some point, shortly before the birth, they hold a revelation. An announcement broadcast to the entire world about the nature of death and the afterlife, with Helen as living proof. A new era of different turmoil begins, including religious conflicts and attempts to reach loved ones. The meaning of assassination is altered forever. Mediums are established.

Helen gives birth. I have yet to choose between three endings:

Happy ending: Apparently, she is still needed at John’s side, because she remains with him.

Bittersweet ending: Helen vanishes back into the afterlife and John spends his remaining days passing on all of his wisdom and fighting skills to his daughter, who is born between life and death and carries supernatural powers, including the ability to help them communicate at times.

Weird ending: There is a battle going on at the time. John dies to save the baby, but claws his way back from the dead just as Helen did. They reign together over a new world as immortals.

#john wick #john x helen #helen wick #fanfic ending

[heaven-said]

{{ SO........ in honor of the holiday its time for sacrilege

Let's discuss the real world connection of the archangel Gabriel liking blood !!!! If you humor me with this tangent i will be very thankful--

TL;DR....... I adore the feral, primordial god madness just beneath a calm surface trope, and think Gabriel should be allowed a bit of that as a treat-- but also all this explains so much about him.

The long version--

Now, fair warning, logically speaking, the reason for a lot of the cultural dissonance i'm going to explain is because Gabriel is from an extremely old religion written by dozens of ancient people across hundreds of decades. BUT.... for fun, I love to justify these weird disjointed beliefs through a fictionalized lens from a character perspective.

So! Why associate Gabriel with blood, mythology wise? Gabriel, old testament creature that he is, has a lot of connections to blood sacrifices. Especially lambs. You know the lambs blood above the door thing as I've mentioned before-- very classic plagues story, love the dreamworks movie-- but also there was the lambs of atonement, which was a borderline routine live sacrifice in the old testament era, and vaguely the origin of the very concept of why something needs to die to atone for sins at all. Why do some people associate these with Gabriel? Well, despite not outright naming an angel for who declares the need for sacrifices, being both the Will of God and also the proclaimed "guardian" of the group of people who used to do this, it seems likely this was his job, personality speaking. Just as some people, as far as l've seen, assume Gabriel to be the angel that takes the first-borns in Egypt.

Now what's interesting to me!! is that lamb sacrifices quickly, in modernity at least, became associated with satanic worship! And from a character perspective I love the thought that what people are seeing is actually a general ritual, that ALL angels are capable of accepting the benefits of this kind of sacrifice. Its just that Lucifer continues to use it where as the angels nowadays are like " NOPE we don't do that shit anymore hush-- "

And culturally.... there is always this split where Gabriel almost abruptly stops being associated with scarier subjects and becomes very tied to just Christmas and being a messenger. And I feel like, in character, he deliberately changed how he presents himself when he stopped doing the blood thing and went on to be who delivered news of the immaculate birth that specifically is going to free him from doing it anymore. ( its all connected-- ) Maybe specifically because he didn't like the ritualistic mania that comes with the blood, not just in the mortals but himself....... ( my man has an "ecstasy" form for when he's happy about bloodshed,, )

But to ME ( in my heart ) this is so absolutely the root of why Gabriel can literally get drunk on blood. Why he falls in love through blood and viscera, why doing the exterminations in his Hazbin verse make him a little feral and unhinged.

This has all become my secret in-joke for why Gabriel likes deep red wine so much. Like its a substitute for when he gets the craving sometime. ( which is literally functionally the point of "subsituting" wine for jesus' blood ) When he is holding that wine I'm just like yup there's gently contained demi-god insanity somewhere deep in there-- }}

#{{ I'm sorry for the wait on some threads i'm a little all over the place mentally right now lmao... }} #✟ → { o.o.c. } ⋰⋰ #✟ [ 1. ] → { 𝕲𝖆𝖇𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖑. } ⋰⋰ headcanon.

[justwannaflex]

(—) ★ spotted!! NOUR WILSON on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 53 year old looks like SALMA HAYEK, but i don’t really see it. while the CASTMEMBER OF THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF BEVERLY HILLS is known for being CAPTIVATING my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be TEMPERAMENTAL i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song KA-CHING! BY SHANIA TWAIN {she+her / cisfemale}

Headline

Can you hear it ring. It makes you want to sing. It's such a beautiful thing, ka-ching. Lots of diamond rings. The happiness it brings. You'll live like a king. With lots of money and things.

Stats

name: nour wilson née mouawad

age: 53

nicknames: tba

date of birth: 1970

place of birth: Beirut (Lebanon)

nationality : lebanese, mexican & american

gender identity: cis woman (she/her)

sexuality: moneysexual

family : Henry Wilson (husband), several children tba (1st born in 1990)

occupation: cast member of the real housewives of beverly hills

career claim: jennifer grey (sort of)

net worth : 3,1 Md $

spoken languages : english, arabic and spanish

positive traits: resourceful, cunning, captivating, perfectionist, confident

negative traits: materialistic, self-centred, temperamental, opportunistic, deceitful

characters/celebrities inspo: tba

zodiac sign : tba

Bio

tw : civil war and death mention

Nour was born in Beirut to a telecom mania father and a telenovella actress mother. She spent the first five years of her life in a Lebanon which was becoming more and more unstable and dangerous. At the beginning of the Lebanese civil war, her family fled the country, relocating to the United States. They still had money but most of it was stuck in Lebanon. She lived a relatively luxurious life in Los Angeles until she was twelve years old. Her father who still went back to Lebanon from time, did not return from one of his trips. He had been caught in the war.

With her father gone, her family began to lose money and status. Eventually, they had to sell their luxurious L.A. mansion and move to Mexico with their remaining fortune but Nour did not accompany them. She plead to stay in the States and her mother agreed to leave her in the care of a distant cousin. Inspired by her mother's past as a telenovella actress, Nour started to go to auditions. She hoped to become famous and gain back the life that had been stolen from her.

When she was seventeen, she quit school to star in her first movie. Dirty Dancing became a hit and she was suddenly under the spotlight she had sought. Nour was nominated for a Golden Globe for Best Actress. She was invited everywhere and tasted a life better than the one she had lost. She quickly burned her 50 000 dollar fee but no new movie was coming along.

Not wanting to go back to sharing a bedroom, she had to act fast. With her fame and pretty face, she was a catch and it was not hard to secure a rich suitor. At only 19 years old, she married Henry Wilson, heir to a real estate empire. She quickly became pregnant and gave birth to her first child at the age of 20 years old. That way, even if Henry divorced her, she would still get alimony and child support. She would be set for life if she played her cards right. The couple later welcomed other children.

Nour tried staring in movies or tv shows from time to time but none became very successful. Offended by those failures and not needing the money, she stopped acting. She simply led a socialite life, spending her husband's money.

In 2009, she was approached to appear in dancing with the stars. She won the season and rediscovered media's attention. It felt so good to be back on talk shows and red carpets. Not wanting to go back to relative anonymity, she joined the real housewives of beverly hills to stay relevant. She had missed the spotlight too much.

Career

At seventeen Nour starred in a movie called dirty dancing. It would become a classic. She still appeared in movies and tv shows from time to time but never knew real success again.

She won the 2009 dancing with the star season.

She is one of the original cast member of the real housewives of Beverly Hills.

#hillzintro #nour.about

[lyricalive]

Touhou 15.5   (Blooms of Spirit Possession)

—English fanlyrics—

  Raiko: lori-hime  ★  Lʏʀɪᴄᴀ: ᴀsᴀ-ᴛᴜʀɴᴇʏ Lunasa: asa-turney  ★  Merlin: lori-hime

      "One… two…  One, two, three, four…"

♪ ♪ ♪ ~

It starts with a seed in the dark of the night.

You wait for a sunbeam to bring it to light.

The birth of a legend where you are the star.

The moment defining the person you are.

  Then, in that moment, the record is set.

Are you that person, or did you forget?

What would possess you to do such a thing?

A spirit of fate has been playing your strings!

  Oh…  Are you listening?  Are you listening?

    "Thank you.  Thanks for listening."     "This is Raiko Horikawa on drums, ushering in a new era for the Prismriver Ensemble."     "But don't worry…  You'll always recognize that classic, pristine beat."     "Now, are we ready to drop the bass?"

      "On the synthesizer of sounds reborn from obscurity... Lyrica!"

  Aɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ… ғᴀᴅᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ.

Dᴇᴇᴘ ʀᴏᴏᴛs ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴜᴛ ᴏʀ ғʀᴀʏ.

Tᴏ ʙᴇ sᴛᴜᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ɪs ᴛᴏᴜɢʜ.

 Sᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ… ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴀʏ.

Lᴏᴏᴘ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ᴅᴀʏ ʙʏ ᴅᴀʏ.

Aɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ… ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ.

  Wʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟɪɢɴᴇᴅ...    Tʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ's ғᴀᴛᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ.

Bᴜᴛ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ, ʟᴇғᴛ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ...    Aʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ғɪɴᴅ?

Wʜᴀᴛ's ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ?  Wʜᴀᴛ's ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴇʏ?    ...Aʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ?

Bʀᴇᴀᴋ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴡɴ.  Bʀᴇᴀᴋ ɪᴛ ғʀᴇᴇ.    ...Aʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ?

    "On the heartbreaking violin that outclasses Stradivarius... Lunasa!"

 Strings of the heart…

Gently upon which somber memories play…

So they haunt…

Pluck on the pains of yesterday.

 Let it play, from the heart.

Yours is a tragic song with no counterpart.

Let them flow…

Tears that you've held back from the start.

 Let it build, thick as a swarm,

Outside yourself, given voice at last, given form.

Sharing it with the world may be

The only course left through the storm.

      "On the fearsome trumpet fed with the pure blood of jazz... Merlin!"

  Now what's left but the harmony?

Is it moving you?  Entertaining you?

It's a dance you've been doing since who even remembers when!           Make some noise!

That is life itself!

Let this mania keep you company,

And you'll never be lonely again!

 Take the lead of the nonsense!                        Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴇᴀᴅ.    Take the lead.

Is it wonderful?  Unbelievable?                                               ...Of the nonsense!

It's the song you've been singing forever, now sing it again!       Somber memories play…

In a higher key!                                                Aɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ…

Let this mania keep you company,                                       ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ.

And you'll never be lonely again!                Take on the spirit that's playing on your strings!

  Aʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ?  Aʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ?

Are you ready to hear what your soul has to say?

Aʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ?  Are you listening?                           Is it wonderful?  Unbelievable?

And that seed would be happy to hear it today.

Are you listening?  Aʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ?

Wʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ sᴇᴛ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴏᴜʟ,

There's a flowering melody, not a memory.

The performance is now…  Tʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀғᴏʀᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪs ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴɪɴɢ ɴᴏᴡ!

#touhou #prismriver sisters #raiko horikawa #lyrica prismriver #merlin prismriver #lunasa prismriver #lori hime #railyri #lyrics #fandub #antinomy of common flowers #i love them... #this nihilistic yet optimistic band has wonderful messages to share #prismriver with h

[kurgy]

i know nothing about bnha other than what my bf has told me. didnt endevour leave dabi for dead? like assuming he wasnt strong enough? how do ppl like him.

you've activated blorbo brain I apologize in advance

so Endeavor and his wife Rei had 4 children, Endeavor only got married to Rei specifically and had children because he wanted to create a child with the "perfect quirk" to fulfill his dream of surpassing the number 1 hero, All Might, Endeavor being the number 2 hero. even in universe, this practice is highly controversial for pretty obvious eugenics reasons

Touya/Dabi was his first attempt

Touya was born with a fire quirk, like his father, except it was much stronger than Endeavors. even though he didn't get a child with fire and ice like he wanted, Endeavor was certain that Touya was perfect for fulfilling his dream.

shortly after Touya was born they had a daughter, Fuyumi, who only had ice, and was immediately not up to Endeavors standards, I don't think Endeavor even knew she lived there

then they had Natsuo, who I believe also had ice? idk but same thing with Fuyumi happened here

Touya's flames were very strong, but soon they started to hurt and burn him. most fire users have a natural immunity to fire. Touya however, didn't. he has a much stronger immunity to ice

Touya's entire life revolved around Endeavor and getting his praise. He started training Touya for combat at age 5, specifically showing him to burn hotter. he loved his dad, and in his own words "wanted to make him happy" but when his flames began seriously hurting him, Endeavor concluded he was incapable of fulfilling his dream

so they had their 4th child, Shoto, who was born with the perfect quirk of fire and ice that Endeavor wanted, and Touya, who lived his whole life training for Endeavor, being the center of some...very unhealthy and dangerous attention, was fully replaced with Shoto, who was "perfect"

mentally, Touya already wasn't doing well with the pressure of Endeavors dream, the training, and the burns, but once he realizes he essentially lost all purpose for living, deemed a "failure" his mental state began spiraling further downward. verbally lashing out, burning himself, and pulling out his hair, training in secret because he's still trying to win Endeavors approval, were all very blatant signs this 13 year old needed help, and nobody did anything

it got to a point where in a fit of mania and emotional uncertainty, Touya cries and begs Endeavor to see what he can do with his flames to prove his birth wasn't a mistake, something Endeavor rejects, causing Touya to lashes out and direct that anger at his baby brother, which Endeavor puts a stop to very quick. possibly not in the best way

Touya regrets this, and later asks Endeavor to meet him on Sekoto peak, in the mountains where Touya trains, to see what he's accomplished.

so Touya waits there, and Endeavor never comes. In his unstable emotional and mental state he lashes out with fire, burning himself and igniting a forest fire where Touya burned alive

the only thing authorities found were a damaged jaw bone, concluding that Touya must have died in the fire

Endeavor blames Rei for this

but he didn't die! AFO (the main 100 year old antagonist) finds him, literally burned to a crisp and dying, and takes him back to his weird backup child facility where they reconstruct his body and he lays comatose for 3 years.

when he wakes up, he insists to go home and apologize to his family and show his dad his power

they explain hes been asleep for 3 years, that his family moved on, and that with his quirk being so unpredictable, doesn't have much longer to live

hes 16-17 at this point, and after being denied the ability to go home, breaks out and runs back home anyway

he makes it, walks inside, and finds Endeavor training Shoto the same way he trained him, that even his "death" couldn't break the cycle of abuse, and just snaps.

Touya prays at his own alter, and adopts the name Dabi before fucking off for about a decade

no one knows where he was or what he was doing during this time

then he comes back specifically to ruin Endeavors life and career

so, how do people like Endeavor? easy! he felt kinda bad about all of it once his kids were old enough to fight back and bnha fans love worshipping abusive dudes that do the bare minimum like they're gods

#blorbo posting