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lunarw0rks · 9 months

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hi! im not sure if you do any requests like this but if you wouldn't mind, with ghost or konig, where the reader is depressed and has suicidal ideations and ghost/konig save them before it's too late? ive gone through somewhat similar things and it would be comforting reading someone be there for them!

A/N: I don't mind requests like this, just read with caution, please! To anon, or anyone reading that has gone through this, you deserve happiness and are loved!! "988" is the nationwide hotline ♡

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° I hope you don't mind, but I chose Ghost since I haven't written for Kӧnig (YET) Italics are Simon's perspective when it's happening at the same time as reader.

Summary: You feel swallowed by depression, but Simon saves you just in time.

Warning(s): depression, talk of suicide, PTSD themes - DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU!!, established relationship, GN!Reader, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff at the end

Word Count: 1.5k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ♡¸.•*' | ao3 ver.

In Your Arms // Drabble

The world's weight had been on your shoulders; the constriction on your chest gave you a constant state of crisis, the strain on your heart soon to break it to pieces, and most of all the strain on your mind.

Each waking moment was a gamble of numbness or overdrive. In the instances of numbness, you were withdrawn, coasting your way through meals, laying awake at night with a blank stare. When you were in overdrive, it was like each bad thought physically pilled itself atop you, increasing your irritability and defensiveness.

It was as if the real you were trapped inside somewhere, but you were being overruled by an enclosure of gloom.

Chores, conversations, and the people you loved dearly became a melancholy hassle. You hated every second of it, and most of all hated yourself for behaving like this. At first, you were begging for an out—some savior to snap you out of it.

But now, you felt hopeless—and were making plans to give yourself that out.

You finally had an opportunity, a few hours where you’d have the house to yourself, with Simon out for a few hours. The problem was, gathering the courage. Even though you had the thoughts raining down on you, it was a decision you would never be able to take back.

You were sat in the shared bedroom, on top of the bed you’d just remade. It had been God knows how long by now, and all you could do was stare blankly at the wall ahead, choking back sobs. You looked at his side of the room, seeing the stark contrast between his and yours.

When you thought of him, how he’d be better off this way, it nudged you toward your answer.

Simon noticed your off-balance behavior the day he arrived home. Despite telling you how lovely you looked, he could tell the isolation of his deployment had taken its toll. The bags under your eyes, the dark circles worsening, your sudden change in eating habits—something he greeted like an old friend.

He, of all people, understood the feeling. He just didn’t know how to confront it.

He was never good with his words, or his ability to provide comfort physically; he relied on his crisis training, and most of all, how much he loved you.

When he said he was going out with friends, he was. At first. He found himself sitting in the driveway with a pit in his stomach, his anxieties swallowing him. He was protective, to begin with, but paired with the behavior changes, he was practically trembling at the thought of something horrible happening.

He was white-knuckling the steering wheel, debating on spending his night inside with you. Guilt consumed him for even considering going out anywhere when you’d waited months for him.

His stomach was in knots, twisting and turning, begging him to give in to nausea overtaking him any second. Something was wrong, something was going to happen.

You were fighting yourself again. The thoughts were racing so hard you could swear you heard them buzzing around your head like an angry swarm of wasps, each of them a stinger in your skin.

You reached for the nearest object—the remote—then stood to your feet, sending it plummeting towards the wall in front of you. It shattered the hanging picture frame on impact, sending shards of glass around the bedroom.

It did nothing to silence the thoughts. The sudden rush of fury only fueled them, begging for you to do something more to stop them—the only option you felt you had left.

He had his car door open, gathering his things before he was on his way inside. He’d made his decision, he would rather spend the night with you.

Simon’s trained ear heard the faint shatter of glass, seeing that the upstairs bedroom was the only one lit. There was no hesitation; no second thought to make sure it wasn’t a critter in the garbage can or another household.

He unlocked the door swiftly, a hand hovering over the holster underneath his jacket. The downstairs was clear, nothing askew. He next went up the stairs, leaning in the direction of the bedroom to pick up any sound coming from it.

In his mind, he was fearing the worst, paired with the anxiety he was already having in the car. He’d been here before, with too many people. It couldn’t, no, wouldn’t happen again, not with you.

When the door creaked open, it revealed you, shriveled against the wall with your head in your hands. Beside you, was a broken picture frame, sent flying into pieces around the room. His mind put the pieces together—the irritability, the insomnia, the withdrawn behavior, his gut feeling—all coming together now.

But his worst fears hadn’t come true. You were alive. Alive, and in need of his help. His gut feeling, that painful ache in his stomach when he left, it was right.

His knees dropped to the ground beside you, ignoring the slices forming through his clothes. His entire focus was on you, nothing else.

“Love…” He whispered, grabbing ahold of your knee to make you look his way. When your pooled eyes met him again, he felt like his heart had been ripped in two.

The sight of you, the pain written in your expression. Not physical pain, not heartache, but hopelessness. A specific, known too well by him, expression.

Simon could barely stand it, the person he practically breathed for, fought for, succumbing to their sorry—and he could’ve been too late. The warmth of your flesh under his fingertips, how it shivered, he knew you were still here, still breathing.

He was at a loss for words, even for a man who spoke very little. Angry at himself, not you, for not saying something earlier on. His withdrawal was both a blessing and a curse—a lesson well learned, now that his life with you had flashed before him.

Without a second thought, he scooped you up, setting you gently on the neat bed. He remained standing in front of you, staring down at you with a foggy expression.

“I’m sorry,” You muttered, blinded by the tears.

Simon visibly shook his head, forcing yours into his chest. It wasn’t your fault, and if he could force you to believe that, he would. He didn’t have words to give you, only the comfort of his presence. He just held you; held onto your frame as you wept into his abdomen, soaking through the fabric of his tee.

Tears only teased at his own eyes, but never made it past them. Though internally, he was weeping for you, nearly inconsolable.

It was his job to follow orders, to do his duty. His duty now, was you. He had to be strong for you, always, otherwise he had no purpose left on this Earth.

When the sobs had turned into defeated sniffles, he dropped to his knees to meet your eye level. Him, never one for eye contact, but he couldn’t take his eye off you now.

“I’m here now, I promise.” His deep voice echoed through the room, bouncing off your repines for his comfort.

You were still in shock, how one minute ago you were so close to the edge, but the next he was by your side. The sorrow only subsided for the moment, but with him as a distraction, you knew you had at least one person there for you. One person who understood what you were going through, no doubt about it.

His large hands, the ones stained with the blood of his hands, gently cradling your face until you were lucid enough to give him your full attention. He was there for you, no matter how hard the stubborn thoughts tried to convince you he wasn’t.

They moved from your face, to your neck and arms, then your fingers, searching for any sign of physical injury.

“Let me help you, please…” Simon placed a small kiss on one of the tear droplets streaming down, wiping away the rest with his thumb. His hand went down again, clasping around yours tenderly as he routed you to the shared bathroom.

He grabbed a spare cloth off the rack, wetting it slightly in the sink as he traced it along each tear stain, his other hand on your waist the entire time. He was focused and stiff, but his eyes were gentle.

When he finished, he cupped your face again, touching his lips to yours, then your temple. “You are everything to me, got it?” He whispers against your forehead, eyes still wide, reeling with the shock of nearly losing you.

Your head was in his chest again as one hand remained on your waist, the other holding your head in place. He was savoring this, not taking you for granted for a second.

Deep inside, he was picturing all those months he’d left you alone to feel like this.

How each tear he wiped was a lash of regret. He was going to make up for it from now on. Whether he could help you one on one, or you talk to a professional, he would back you every step of the way.

That was his duty.

#simon riley x reader #mw2 fanfic #mw2 #simon riley #call of duty #task force 141 #ghost mw2 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #tw depression

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1st-recon-lylith-blog · 11 months

Text

Potter Wasp Megalomorpha

I lay on the floor, paralyzed. How long has it been? Days? Hours? Mere hellish minutes? It’s too dark now to tell. I hear my ragged breath in my ears. White hot pain shoots down my spine as I feel whatever is now attached to my back begin to wriggle and writhe.

–?? Months? earlier.

Grandma Maggie needed help after her fall. I was the closest family member to her, so I was the one to make the several hours’ drive to her home in rural north Georgia. The further north I go, the more hilly the roads become. This shouldn’t be an issue, but July’s hurricane season, and the rain, makes the roads slippery and difficult to climb. I should’ve just gotten a motel room when I had the chance, but by now, civilization was too far behind me to stop. I was closer to grandma Maggie than I was to the Best Value Motel I’d seen hours before.

My beater of a Toyota chugs along a steep road when lightning flashes above and thunder reverberates through my car. My foot slips off the gas pedal, causing my car to slide down the road. I pump the brakes, but it was no use as my car hydroplanes into the guardrail. My head lurches forward as my car comes to a sudden halt. The seatbelt keeps my body safe, but the sudden pressure against my sternum as it holds me in place knocks the wind out of me.

My airbags didn’t deploy, and that perturbs me. Grabbing my umbrella from the backseat, I step out into the rain and inspect the damage. The rear right wheel sticks out at a funny angle. My car is wrecked. I sit back down in the driver’s seat and grab my phone from the glove box. There’s no signal. In vain, I try calling 911, but my phone can’t connect. I’m well and truly stranded.

Resting my head against the steering wheel, I look out the passenger window. I sit back up as I strain to look farther. Faint light from a structure in the woods fills my hopeful eyes. I grab my umbrella to brave the rain once more. Hopefully, whoever owns this house has a landline, or at the very least, a place to sleep that isn’t the backseat of my car.

My boots squish through soft red mud as I trudge towards the house, walking for what feels like hours. My socks are soaked through. I look behind me towards my car. The house was visible from the road, so I should be able to see the road behind me even if I haven’t made it to the house.

But when I turn around, all I see is a thick forest. “It must be the rain obscuring my vision,” I try to assure myself, in vain. I whip my head back towards the house, afraid it might disappear if I look away for too long. Thankfully, it’s still there, its warm yellow lights greeting me with cheer.

It doesn’t seem any closer and I worry the car crash knocked a screw loose in my head. I pray I’m not hallucinating as I continue my slog through the downpour. But finally the house appears to get closer as I walk towards it. Dark brown wood siding and white shutters make the house look quaint, or it would if not for the fact that the house is half buried in a hill.

Was there a landslide? The weather is wet enough, and the area is hilly enough for it, but the house seems undamaged. The hill is red clay with no grass on it or nothing. I try not to look at it. Its strange unnatural lumps make me feel uneasy.

Ignoring my discomfort, I approach the house. But when I knock on the door and the lights from inside the house vanish. I guess they weren’t expecting guests. Desperate to get out of the rain, I pound on the door. My clothes are soaked and I’m shivering with cold despite the muggy July air. There is no answer. I pound the door harder. Someone’s in there or they wouldn’t’ve turned the lights off when I first knocked.

I almost think about shouting through the door and begging when the door creaks open. I expected the door to swing open with someone on the other side. Instead, it pushes open as if it had been stuck and my banging dislodged it.

The inside of the house is dusty and disused. It’s clear no one has inhabited this house for years. I step forward, dripping water onto creaking floorboards. Mud squishes into the faded welcome mat beneath my feet. I turn my phone’s flashlight on.

“Hello?” I call out. Silence greets me back. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as a feeling of wrongness overcomes me. I shouldn’t be here, but as if in a trance, I walk deeper into the house. As my ears adjust from the loud rain to the silent house, I realize it’s not silent. Faint dripping noises from a roof leak above me and a strange gurgling noise ahead of me fill the space. I keep walking forward.

In the living room I walk past moth-eaten couches and a dusty overturned bookshelf. Mildewed books strewn across the floor, filling the house with the heady scent of rotting paper. I keep walking forward. I approach the kitchen, unable to see much of it beyond a toppled fridge from my angle of approach. The gurgling sound grows louder.

“Is anyone there?” I whisper, fearful that someone might answer. When I reach the kitchen, I look for where the gurgling sound might be coming from. Did the landslide damage the house after all? Is muddy water bubbling through the siding? I step around the fallen fridge. I aim my camera light ahead of me and see strange lumpy masses on the floor. The light is too weak for me to see more than the vague shape of things, but the lumps don’t look like kitchen furniture.

I look closer and my heart and breathing stop. The lumps are people, but their bodies are wrong. Twisted and bumpy. Strange long pods seem to grow from their backs. Are those mushrooms? What is growing out of them? The growths seem too organized to be natural, going straight down their twisted spines. With horror I realize these… people are the sources of the gurgling sound. Their eyes are rolled back and they do not seem aware of my presence. Their chests rise and fall, showing they are still barely alive somehow.

I take a step back, but my foot catches onto the fridge behind me and I fall. Above me, I hear a menacing buzz. I look up and the fear washes out of me. Everything is okay. Everything is beautiful.

Warmth embraces me, and pleasure tingles down my spine. When did I end up on the floor? Not that it matters. At some point my camera’s light dies, but that doesn’t matter either. All that matters is this beautiful, pleasurable warmth. I try to smile, but I can’t feel my face.

FANNIN COUNTY, Ga. — Detectives in Fannin County are hosting an event in hopes of getting closer to identifying the remains of 7 people found in an abandoned house that was destroyed in a landslide, according to a release from the district attorney and medical examiner’s office.

People are invited to the Fannin County Public Library on West Main Street to attend a missing persons event and DNA drive. It’s free to the public and being held on May 20 from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.

Families of missing persons are asked to come together at the event to share any information about their loved ones, as well as to open or add to any missing persons’ reports. Officials encourage attendees to consider donating DNA samples, which can assist with identification efforts.

Criticisms of the Fannin County Police Department are mounting as the FCPD deny allegations of covering up a serial killer.

#megalomorpha #bug #wasp art #fiction #short story #horror story #bug horror #wasp #ovipositor #parasitic wasps

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victimeyez · 8 months

Text

Professional//Victim

Darwin

CW: captive whump, drugged whump, graphic depictions of torture, intimate whump

Taglist: @lonesome--hunter

The nausea starts when they roll off the highway. An unfamiliar town lies here, sporting lots of fancy diners and shops for wasps.

“It’s coming up. Get ‘im lively.”

Tommy had been awake for a while now, but a bump of coke made him “more lively” for clients. The bitter taste didn’t help his stomach when he rubbed it into his gums. Sure, it was more direct up the sniffer, but one time he sneezed blood into the passenger window, so they switched strictly to the oral route. He didn’t like the taste or the buzz, but it helped with the pain a little. Not that it mattered.

His stomach drops to his knees when they turn off onto a long side street and begin passing houses. Only a few down and they turn onto a long, neat driveway that slithered into the woods. Finally, a house emerged from the foliage.

(Brown, drab. Not a mansion, but expensive. Groomed lawn. Driveway, maybe a quarter mile. Isolated. Definitely not a client we’ve seen before. New clients are always crapshoots.)

Caius dragged Tommy up the path to the door. He hesitated before ringing the doorbell, making Tommy face him while he fixed his curls and looked him over. He pinched his cheeks and his lips to give him a flushed look, pinching some of his eyelashes between his fingers and tugging them painfully. He repeated it on the other side, making Tommy’s eyes water so they were tearful and moony. He then pressed the gold-framed button next to the door. A twinkling classical piece played inside in lieu of a standard bell.

A middle-aged man answered too quickly, surprisingly well dressed in a tortoiseshell suit and matching glasses. He looked like a professor. He smiled kindly at the two of them.

“Please, come in.”

Caius put a firm hand on Tommy's shoulder and pushed him through the doorframe into the house, while the client politely held the door for the pair. He closed it behind them and activated an electronic lock, hidden from the outside. A heavy deadbolt slid into place with a loud chink. It resonated with an ominous finality that made Tommy’s stomach clench.

“I am Darwin. I take it this is Tommy?” He gestured to Tommy.

“I’m Caius, and this is Tommy.”

Darwin nodded, and then hesitated as he began to turn.

“Forgive me if I’m new to the etiquette of these…arrangements. Could I offer you a water, or maybe some wine?”

“Don’t worry about formalities, you’ve paid for us to be here. Let’s not waste your time.”

Darwin's eyebrows raised just a touch, but he seemed relieved to dispense with niceties. He began up a flight of stairs, which Caius ensured Tommy followed close behind. His heart was starting to pound and his feet felt heavy. Upstairs rooms were less common than basements. They somehow felt so much more intimate. Tommy had long since learned you can’t tell what a client wants based on appearance. He wasn’t sure what he feared more - a dungeon, or a bedroom.

He could feel himself starting to shut down already, and he embraced the dissociation.

(Left, right, left, right, keep walking, just follow. Don’t feel anything, just exist. There’s nothing you can do now. Just breathe. Disconnect from the feeling of desperation. We don’t have to remember this part.)

He walked robotically behind Darwin until he was led into a room that looked like an enormous study, with a fireplace at one side and rows of nice bookshelves and displays lined the walls. The display closest to him looked something like fireplace tools, but not like ones he had seen before. The floors were of a rich hardwood.

“Remove your shoes, Tommy.”

He hated it when they used his name. As if they knew him. As if they were friends. All it took was a warning look from Caius and he peeled off his tennis shoes, setting them awkwardly to the side. (Avoid eye contact. Makes it easier.)

“Are you wearing underwear?”

Tommy didn’t like where this was headed. He despised the romantic ones.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Strip down to them.”

Tommy mechanically removed his shirt, and then more hesitantly, his sweats. He was down to plain black boxers, a stark contrast to well-dressed Darwin. He handed them off to Caius while his eyes scoured the room.

The center of the room was filled with precariously placed items that looked very old and worn. There was a big lumpy looking chair made of wood, a kind of bench-like table with three rolling pins attached in the middle, and a big sort of horse-shaped wooden structure. It looked badly built, and had a big triangle for the saddle.

(Don’t panic. Don’t run. You don’t have to know what’s happening. Don’t think about it. Don't think at all. Turn your brain off. It makes it easier.)

“I curate for the museum here, and over the years I’ve become a bit of a collector of sorts myself. When the museum here wasn’t interested in these pieces, I knew I just had to buy them up. Unfortunately, I haven’t gotten the chance to play with them, and they’ve gone without use. Then I found a video of Tommy here online, and I thought I found the perfect person to try them out.”

Thomas felt like his body was moving without his will as he was led to the chair, which upon closer look, was more than uncomfortable. It had no open slats but was made of uncut pieces of wood with a high back, wide arm rests, a flat seat, and another solid plate between the front legs, almost to the floor. Every inch of it was covered in neat rows of small, wooden spikes.

“Which video?” Caius asked conversationally.

(Market research.)

“It was some kind of flogging scene, with Mistress Alice. A few months ago now.”

Tommy’s head swam before he realized he was holding his breath. He felt a little shaken by the mention of Alice, and struggled to stay adrift from his feelings.

“It looks like he’s healed up marvelously though,” Darwin appreciated, looking him over hungrily.

“He cleans up well, and we have excellent doctors on hand. We cannot allow certain things that will damage him beyond repair, so I will be staying with you for our time. Most nerves can be fixed, but no severing of central tendons or arteries, and go easy on the spine to keep basic motor controls intact.”

Darwin nodded. “They shouldn’t puncture too deeply. Everything is antique, but sanitized.”

Without ceremony, Tommy was shoved back into the chair.

He took a sharp breath in when all the points sank in at once, biting into the sensitive flesh of his ass and thighs. The shock of It was like being submerged in icy water. He instinctively leaned forwards away from the back of the chair, but he could feel beads of blood forming where he had knocked into them initially.

Hands appeared from nowhere, wrapping a leather strap across his throat and pulling him flat against the back of the chair. The shock of the pain winded him, and he gasped for breath as Darwin fastened his restraints. His ankles were locked with leather and pulled taut hard to force his legs into the spikes, and his arms were pulled hard down on the spiked armrests. Thick leather cuffs bound his wrists in place, and slight sides built into the back ensured his outer arms were also penetrated.

The best he could do was try to arch his back away from the back of the chair, but with his neck fastened it only seemed to drive the ones in his shoulders deeper. The awkward position made his back start to cramp immediately, and he doubted he could hold it for long. The urge to fight the restraints was overruled by the pain that the slightest movement caused, and he found himself paralyzed by it. Even breathing agitated the punctures, and on instinct he started to breathe shallowly to avoid it. A muted thought came to him, of the sharp wooden skewers used for shish kabobs, and he suddenly related to being a piece of skewered meat.

He vaguely registered that Darwin had stood back and was watching him, a great grin on his face.

“This piece is called the ‘Armchair of Inquiries’ - a bit of a cheeky name, in my opinion. This one was actively used a bit longer than most, with the last recorded use being May 8th, 1868. I’ve had it thoroughly cleaned and disinfected just for you.”

Tommy tried to pull his head away from the pins, only resulting in choking himself against the leather collar.

Darwin smiled. “I had that strap attached as an extra, from a heretic’s fork. I think it makes a good addition, even if it wasn’t the original.”

There was something deeply sickening about the pride in Darwin’s voice, while he gladly explained history that hardly mattered to the butterfly he had pinned.

The initial shock was starting to wear off, but the pain was blooming. He doubted there was enough coke in the world to shield him from this. His shallow panting took on a whine to it on every exhale as the pain began to steep.

Darwin had walked away, and returned with quick steps holding some sort of miniature harness. It consisted of metal bands arched and connected, with an adjustable leather strap. Tommy couldn’t identify it, but the glee with which Darwin presented it made him think he would find out the hard way very soon.

With a surprisingly gentle hand, Darwin guided his head forward as far as it could go against his neck restraint, and slipped the harness over his head.

“This one has many names, and many forms. It was the first piece in my collection. There are other ones that are shaped like pigs, or fools with long noses, or even a cone coming out from the mouthpiece. Just to name a few.”

At being masked, Tommy started to panic and struggle, shoving hard against his restraints only to have the spikes impale him again and again, agitating the wounds with every movement.

“Wait, wait, wait, fuck, fuck, wait you don’t have to do this-”

Tommy finally begged, which Darwin only acknowledged with a soft smile as he worked the cage mask on. There was a metal band that ran down the back of his head, parting his hair, but pushing him off of impalement on the spikes there as the metal band rested atop the points.

The other band came down the middle of his face, forking into a triangle around his nose. Right below, it connected to a thicker metal band across his mouth, and a sharp obtrusion from it pressed hard against his lips. He clenched his teeth against it to try to keep it out, abruptly ending his ability to beg with words. His pleas reduced to panicked keens of fear and pain.

“It’s called a bridle mask, a scold’s bridle, a mask of shame…” Darwin rattled off idly. He tapped a finger against the metal bit against Tommy’s lips.

“If you can’t feel it yet, there’s another spike in here. I’m about to fasten this tight across your jaw, and if you don’t let it in, it’s going to puncture through your lips and cause you quite a bit more…discomfort. Open up for me, Tommy.”

Darwin’s hands cradled his face with a disturbing intimacy, stroking over his cheeks. His fingers found the hollows of his cheeks and pushed into them sharply, forcing his jaw open. A long metal spike followed by a thick metal bit pushed in, and he had to curl his tongue to keep it from skewering straight through. The metal bit held his jaw slightly open, but if he tried to speak, he would pierce his tongue.

The strap at his jaw was pulled sharply taut and secured. Darwin’s hands returned to his cheeks, stroking his face gently between the gaps of the mask.

(Don’t spiral. Just another - just ignore it - the pain is - how much -)

His best guards against the pain were failing, easily overwhelmed by this unfamiliar torture. A new hysteria was building deep inside of him, and he was starting to grow light-headed from his shallow panting around the gag.

Darwin’s lips were parted and he was panting a little too, his face so close, hungry eyes roving over Tommy’s own caged face. His thumbs tenderly stroked comforting circles over the apples of his cheeks, and Tommy felt a wetness there. (When did we start crying?) His eyes felt so heavy as they spilled over without relief.

Darwin closed the gap between them suddenly, pressing his lips intensely against the outside of the gag. Tommy tried to turn away from him, but Darwin’s gentle hands became restraints holding his head in place. He slowly kissed and tongued and licked the dark metal there, and Tommy couldn’t help the harsh whimpers escaping his opened mouth.

Darwin finally pulled away, his lips wet. A strong urge to wretch boiled in Tommy’s gut.

“You look so beautiful.”

His stomach lurched.

“I have one more piece for you,” Darwin murmured, mostly to himself.

Tears ran down the sides of his face, wetting the metal harness as it started to warm against his skin.

“But before that…can I take a picture?”

Tommy was confused for a moment until his brain finally caught up to the fact that Caius was still there, sitting off to the side and witnessing his agony with a look of profound boredom.

“Sure. I have a camera in my bag if you’d like me to take some nice ones for you. It doesn’t cost extra if you let us also use them for promotional materials.”

Darwin licked his lips. “Of course.”

Tommy let out a miserable moan of protest, with heavy tears of humiliation and pain dripping down his face and cooling uncomfortably at his neck.

Caius kept a calm demeanor of cool indifference while he circled Tommy, collecting photos with his camera. Tommy was only addressed with a sharp snapping of fingers, directing him to look one way or another. He could see a dark reflection of his face in the wide lens of the camera, and he closed his eyes with a sob.

Darwin emerged to be front and center again, holding one of the metal tools that Tommy had noticed when he entered. It was a crude, thin piece of metal, with two fork-like tines on each end. He held it up so Tommy could see it, and then playfully tapped one side of tines against his cheek.

“The heretic’s fork. It fits right in here,” Darwin offered, and slipped it into a leather buckle of the collar around his throat. Tommy tipped his head back to try to avoid it, but yelped when he felt one pronged end pushed shallowly into his neck behind his collar bones. This firmly locked the fork vertically against his throat, the tines on the opposite side baring threateningly against the soft flesh under his jaw.

“If you can keep your head up, this won’t hurt.”

With this last attachment, Tommy suddenly felt entirely overwhelmed with helplessness. He couldn't move an inch, couldn’t even breathe without disturbing the bed of thorns beneath him. His tongue was cramped in the back of his throat, and he was starting to drool around the gag. Lowering his head at all would impale him on the tines of the fork, driving it both into his jaw and into his sternum. He couldn’t think of a time he was held in such strict binding, and his brain was starting to short circuit with the horror of his situation.

Darwin seized this opportunity to lean in and press another kiss over his gag. Tommy whined impotently, hyper-aware of his inability to pull away.

Darwin stood back and took a long, shuddery breath of excitement. He ran his tongue over his lips.

“P-pictures, please,” he called breathily. Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas could see Caius toss his cellphone aside and get back up to take pictures.

Tommy stared at the ceiling, blinking tears of terror. He always hated the feeling of something stuck inside of him, the gnawing urge to pull it out only growing with the many barbs penetrating his skin. He thought his regular collar was bad enough. He could no longer see anything around him, and he had no idea where Darwin or Caius were in proximity to him. The anxiety made him tense, agitating his wounds.

“This doesn’t quite fit in with the others, but, well…we only have so much time. I think this will speed things up.”

He sounded close. There was a popping, crackling sound Tommy couldn’t quite place.

(How much time do we have? How long has it been? It felt like an hour, at least. Maybe. It always feels slower than it is.)

Something touched him, two dull points maybe an inch or two apart. Pressed to his diaphragm. He braced himself for it to puncture him, but for a long minute it just rested there. Darwin was breathing heavier. (Psyching himself-)

His body was on fire.

It almost felt like relaxing. He lost all control while a painful, hot tingling went through his body. He spasmed, shuddering violently until it stopped as suddenly as it had started.

He sagged back into his bindings, but the damage had been done. There were a thousand points on his body that throbbed in urgent pain. It was a full-body pain like he had never experienced before. It was terrifying not being able to look down at his body to see how bad it was - he felt like his skin must be shredded, vivid imaginings of his flayed corpse pinned to this throne.

A touch against his diaphragm, heavy breathing in front of him. Excited sounds from Darwin. He was lit up once more, for a longer time. He could feel himself tearing around the spikes. This time he was vaguely aware of the sound it pulled from his, a deep, guttural cry as the breath was knocked from his body. It was a unique sound he didn’t recognize as his own voice, but a deep wail of anguish. It felt entirely disconnected, like the sound was coming from the prod pushed to his stomach, not his body.

When it ended, his vision was swimming. Everything was black, gray, yellow, dancing shadows. He blinked a few times as he slowly started to come back to his senses.

This time, he noticed the foam in his throat. He coughed, and blood burned on his lips, long dried from the gag. He finally registered the taste of blood on his tongue, the pain in his mouth. His tongue had been speared on the spike inside of the gag. His brain couldn’t process where or how his tongue was pierced, but he drooled blood out the corner of his lips and struggled to swallow the rest pooling in his throat. He couldn’t identify an exact moment when, but the fork under his chin had been driven into his jaw, and judging by the burning pain in his chest, it was up to the hilt on bottom as well.

Darwin let him stew with the tip of his device pressed to his stomach again. Tommy sucked in a breath, his only chance at pulling away from it, but his movement was easily followed.

He writhed in his restraints as he was electrocuted again, spasming uncontrollably even as it tore him open. Everything was pain, every breath, his nose burned, his eyes rolled back into his head. It let up again and he shuddered to stillness. He could still feel the tingle, and he continued to twitch in spite of his best attempts. He dry wretched, blood in his throat, in his stomach, making him sick. The still room reeled around him.

“Next time…you can call me Arthur.”

It felt a bit like sweating, an intense sweating across the entire side of his body. As the blood trickled out underneath him, he was starting to feel very cold. The shocks left him feverish, and he felt quite sick, like when he had the flu and felt hot and cold at the same time. He hoarsely barked out sobs that wracked his body. Every surface he touched pooled blood, making his seat feel wet and tarry underneath him. He was limp in his restraints, his heavy head supported solely by the prongs driven into him.

He numbly felt a prodding against his naked torso, and unconsciousness took its mercy on him.

pictures of tools used: x

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#captive whumpee #intimate whumper #sadistic whumper #medieval torture #professional victim

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mybeingthere · 6 months

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JAN C SCHLEGEL -

OF ALIENS, MERMAIDS AND MEDUSAS

Platinum Prints, limited edition of 5 in the size of 56x76cm (Arches Platinum Rag).

A folio of 12 plates (plus cover page) is available as limited edition of 3

The series „of Aliens, Mermaids and Medusas" was inspired by imagination itself.

Today it seems as if its influence on people is losing its power because we begin to forget or stop noticing how imagination can change our lives. It is the way people approach all kinds of problems with creativity.

We live in a time of crisis when everything in the world has been turned upside down by global warming, ocean pollution, the coronavirus pandemic, and wars (just to mention a few). We have to deal with everyday problems, and this is quite difficult in a state of anxiety. In addition, we are attacked by negative news, and in this information noise, the voice of our imagination that helps us to cope mentally is drowned out.

We do not mean an escape from reality to completely lose touch with it, but a deeper dive into your inner world, where the answers to all questions lie. The ability to imagine, to think outside the box, encourages us to change for the better.

How long ago have you been peering into quirky, chaotic at first glance patterns to discern unusual images in them? How long ago have you laid with a friend on the grass, looking up at the sky and saying, "That cloud looks like a jumping tiger!"? Jan C Schlegel's series of photographs will help you revive your imagination. Just take a closer look at the most primitive, yet incredibly complex creatures: jellyfish.

Jellyfish appeared long before the dinosaurs. They inhabited the ocean 500-700 million years ago, at the dawn of life on Earth. They have no blood, bones or brain, but thanks to evolution, these organisms have developed very cunning methods of adaptation, some secrets of which scientists have not yet managed to unravel. Bizarre camouflage is the most understandable means of adaptation. But there are many unsolved mysteries. Why would a sea creature without a brain need eyes? How can some individuals transform from adult jellyfish to polyps without any limitations, thereby repeating the life cycle and providing themselves with actual immortality?

To date, scientists have described nearly 3,200 species of jellyfish, and the number is only growing every year. The in-depth study of jellyfish has made it possible to advance in solving the ecological problem of plastic emissions into the ocean. Geneticists are grappling with the question of immortality and suggest that the very same immortal jellyfish will help them get a little closer to answering this important question.

It was these amazing, little-studied creatures that attracted the attention of Jan C Schlegel, and he has attempted to show them from a different perspective. The project was photographed in Germany, at the artist’s house, and the Two Oceans Aquarium in Cape Town, South Africa.

The jellyfish placed in large aquariums moved chaotically, and their movements were meditative and calming. These are the moments when the magic of the imagination happens. The relaxed mind is attuned to observation. The smooth movements of the jellyfish seemed to show some pictures, and Jan only had to follow them and catch the moment.

Each person has their own unique experience, so we guess you'll see something of your own. You can look at the jellyfish silhouette as a whole or you can gaze at a particular element. You can focus on the pattern of the tentacles or the unusual fibers that make up the jellyfish's pileus. All of Jan's photos are chosen so that with a little effort you can see something really unexpected. Just take a closer look.

Let's consider one example that might help you engage your imagination at Jan C Schlegel's series. The box jellyfish, considered one of the most dangerous creatures on Earth, has another name: the sea wasp. Its venom can kill an adult in a few minutes if the victim is not treated in time. And yet in the photo from the series „of Aliens, Mermaids and Medusas“ she appears in a slightly different guise, more peaceful. The pattern of her head resembles the gaze of an elephant. As soon as you notice this look, your imagination will add the recognizable elephant skin texture and it will be very hard to get rid of this image, it will stay in your memory for a long time.

There is no point in telling what Jan l saw in all these amazing creatures. We'll just ask a few guiding questions to stimulate your imagination. Could you see a single jellyfish as a forest on a lonely planet? Would you have thought of the idea that a close friendship might develop between a jellyfish and a fish? Or maybe some picture reminded you of your childhood fears when you didn't want to get out from under the covers, being afraid of the monster under the bed? Would you find a woman's profile in one of Jan C Schlegel's works? As you look at the dancing tentacles, will you hear a melody dear to your heart?

The Series is dedicated to Ksenia Chapkayeva who also wrote this introduction. Her inspiration, encouragement and support were vital to see the series realized.

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hp-soulmates · 7 months

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💞 HP Soulmates: Fated 2 Be - Masterlist 💞

We had 47 amazing works created for the fest!!! Thanks everyone for your participation and support!

These are organized by main relationship type: F/F, M/F, and M/M and within those alphabetically by pairing.

F/F

Bellatrix/Mystery Female Character

💞 [FIC] Rubies Red by Constella1103 | @solis-angelus 💞 (M, Bellatrix/Mystery Character, 3.2k)

Bellatrix Lestrange’s life impacted by two people, through her eyes. Or ~Bellatrix Black, aged eleven and the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, disgraces her family when a ruby red shield appears on her shoulder.~

Fleur/Hermione

💞 [ART] We are who we are by digthewriter | @digthewriter💞 (G, Fleur/Hermione, Digital Art)

Fleur and Hermione try to resist the pull they have toward each other.

💞 [FIC] The Choice by otterlyblued | @otterlyblued 💞 (T, Fleur/Hermione, 2.7k)

When one soulmate dies, the other begins to see them in dreams. Except it’s not just a dream, is it?

Ginny/Narcissa

💞 [FIC] Golden Script by Herochick007 | @herochicklyrrie007 💞 (T, Ginny/Narcissa, 3k)

Narcissa hates the name on her wrist, Ginny Weasley. Ginny is nowhere to be found, so she lives her life without her, but then, Ginny finally appears.

Hermione/Pansy

💞 [FIC] Only In Dreams Do I Wake by lumosatnight | @lumosatnight💞 (T, Pansy/Hermione, 1.5k)

Pansy dreams in flowers. She wakes to the feeling of leaves in her hair and twigs between her toes. It never lingers.

Lily/Narcissa

💞 [FIC] i will love you even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them by chipsnkayso💞 (E, Narcissa/Lily, 60k)

Anything your soulmate draws on their skin appears on your skin. And the universe has a really fucked up definition of “drawing.” The story follows Lily from childhood to early adulthood.

Minerva/Poppy

💞 [FIC] Of Kittens and Serpents by Trueliarose | @trueliarose 💞 (T, Minerva/Poppy, 6.2k)

Navigating a relationship as teachers can be taxing, more so if one of your students is Harry Potter.

Remus/Sirius (as women)

💞 [FIC] Betrothal, Brothers, and Bullshit by tofeycat | @aspiring-artist-em💞 (E, femslash!Sirius/Remus, 3.6k)

Lesbian Wolfstar. Remus never went to Hogwarts, and she’s getting rather paranoid about the Grim that keeps following her everywhere.

M/F

Draco/Hermione

💞 [FIC] The Punch That Made a Mark by Tardis_Magic93 | @tardis-magic93 💞 (T, Draco/Hermione, 1.2k)

His Godfather’s eyes went wide with shock as if he noticed the soulmate mark right on his nose where Granger punched him. “Who is your soulmate?” Draco gulped nervously at his Godfather. He took too long to answer because his Godfather held his shoulders and shook him. “Speak, boy!” “Granger,” Draco mumbled. “Can you please speak louder, Draco,” his Godfather sighed. “Granger! Okay?” Draco sighed looking at his Godfather frantically.

💞 [FIC] Dizzy Edge of Heaven by Wanderingfair 💞 (E, Draco/Hermione, 9.8k)

Draco has just been traded from the Bulgarian National team to the Wimbourne Wasps. When moving into his new flat he hears his neighbor singing The Cure’s Just Like Heaven, and is immediately hit with a vision (or version) of their life together. He doesn’t believe in Divination, and has obviously been hit with one too many bludgers. The more time he spends around his new neighbor, the more he wants it to be true. OR The canon divergent telling of Draco Malfoy, a former Durmstran student, current Quidditch star, meeting Hermione Granger for the first time and being instantly unsure if he’s just incredibly smitten or he’s possibly found his soulmate.

Draco/Luna

💞 [FIC] something’s changed by scattermeamongthestars | @scattermeamongthestars💞 (E, Draco/Luna, 6.8k)

“I want to join the Order,” he repeated. His heart was beating so fast, so hard, he felt like his chest was going to burst. It hurt to breathe. A wise move. He’ll find his soulmate there.

Harry/Pansy

💞 [FIC] Ink Stained Skin by swoonbaby | @swoonbby 💞 (M, Harry/Pansy, 19.8k)

Pansy Parkinson went all the way to California to hide from her past and was pleased to find her escape a rousing success. At least it had been until a freak accident involving a spilled bottle of ink erased all her progress and sent her past (or possibly her future) careening back into her path.

Hermione/Severus

💞 [FIC] Small Silver Linings by dolor_dolores | @dolor-dolores💞 (T, Severus/Hermione, 33k)

Three touches – that’s what it takes to activate an ancient Merfolk binding magic, long forgotten in the wizarding world, and only applied to humans under rare circumstances. When Hermione Granger gets marked by the queen of the Merpeople during the Triwizard Tournament, she doesn’t know that she is bestowed with the ability to recognize her soulmate. Quite unfortunate so, Severus Snape would rather pretend to be dead than face is insufferable soulmate. However, he had made the calculations without Hermione, who is not so easily discouraged.

Katie/Marcus

💞 [FIC] Shatter Your Illusions of Love by liiilyevans | @liiilyevans 💞 (T, Katie/Marcus, 3k)

Katie Bell is Healer at St. Mungo’s. She deals with difficult patients all the time. Just usually not ones who have saved her life before.

Luna/Theo

💞 [FIC] In His Love Story by Halliwell19 | 💞 (E, Luna/Theo, 12.3k)

Set in magical regency England, Lord Theodore Nott is in want of a wife, except he doesn’t believe he will find a witch he could call his soulmate… until Lady Luna Lovegood made the Queen laugh.

Narcissa/Remus

💞 [FIC] Sheltered in Black Wings by Caiti | @caiti-creative-corner💞 (T, Narcissa/Remus, 2.4k)

Sometimes Narcissa wondered what her life might have been like without the bonds she held. And sometimes she had nightmares about the same. She would do whatever it took to protect her family and her people.

Neville/Pansy

💞 [FIC] Lover’s Leap by DrPansyParkinson💞 (E, Pansy/Neville, 13.5k)

The Wizarding World is small and insular—Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom have known each other since they were children. But after Pansy’s Grandmother dies, a magical heirloom forces them to see each other in a new light.

💞 [FIC] Beyond the Garden’s Gate by MarinaJune | @sailtomarina 💞 (M, Neville/Pansy, 29.6k)

Sir Neville Longbottom is the unlikely hero of a gallant quest to slay the Evil Serpent Nagini and return Lady Pansy Parkinson to her fiancé, Prince Draco Malfoy. Except this lady doesn’t appreciate being rescued, nor does she want to go on a journey back to the kingdom–and that’s before they discover they might be each other’s soul mates along the way.

Pansy/Sirius

💞 [FIC] Incendio by UltramarineOrchid | @ultramarineorchid💞(M, Sirius/Pansy, 16.2k)

Sirius Black has spent his entire adult life running away from two things: his soulmate, and spoiled pureblood witches. When Pansy Parkinson enters his life, what could possibly go wrong?

M/M

Albus/Gellert

💞 [FIC] souls and marks by prima_vera | @girl-with-goats 💞 (T, Albus/Gellert, 1.1k)

A new parlour opens near the Diagon Alley, offering to reveal the soulmarks. Everyone is, naturally, curious, and clients start coming over, while the owner, one infamous Gellert Grindelwald, watches over them.

Draco/Harry

💞 [ART] The Petals Within Me by EraJMCouts | @erajmcouts 💞 (M, Draco/Harry, Digital Art)

The fine lines between love and lust, passion and possession, the want with the distrust.

💞 [FIC] Kiss Me, Kill Me, Keep Me Forever by DrWhoIsGinnyHolmes | @drwhoisginnyholmes 💞 (M, Draco/Harry, 2.4k)

A few quips back and forth, and the next thing Harry knew, he was tasting the insults straight from the devil’s mouth, sucking the popped “P” of his surname off Draco’s tongue and swallowing every scream that ripped through Draco’s self-control.

💞 [FIC] As bright as your smile by Nelween | @nelweensfic💞 (M, Draco/Harry, 2.8k)

In a world where you only start to see colours when you interact with your soulmate, everything turned back to shades of grey for Draco during the final battle. Until Potter and Luna show up to defend him during his trial.

💞 [FIC] Chosen of His Own Accord by AliceLiddle | @drarrypotterrenaissance 💞 (T, Draco/Harry, 17.8k)

From the prompt: Some families (the Malfoys, the Blacks, etc.) choose never to learn who their soulmate is due to the very high likelihood that they’re not a pure-blood. But the desire for your “other half” is strong, and every now and then, someone from those families decides to break tradition. In which Draco gets braver, Harry chooses his own path, and they both run into each other a lot while running errands.

💞 [FIC] Sparks by annaotherthing | @annanother-thing 💞 (E, Draco/Harry, 20k)

“I’m sorry,” Draco turned to him, “are we boring you?” Greg looked up. “No, I’m just hungry, and you’re taking far too long to just tell them that you and Potter are soulmates. Do you have to be this dramatic?” There was a moment of silence, before all hell broke loose. Harry didn’t know soulmates existed until he was fourteen. He wasn’t sure what he imagined it would be like, but he knew it wasn’t this. But that’s not to say he didn’t like it.

💞 [FIC] Blank Space by Jelliebabie💞 (E, Draco/Harry, 34k)

Life has not been easy for Draco Malfoy since the war. His hopes that he could complete his house arrest and finally get on with his life were not to be. Spat at in the streets, unable to get work, Draco is getting desperate. Desperate enough to put his life in the hands of a backstreet practitioner to see if finally getting rid of the Dark Mark can make a difference. But his decision has consequences he had not expected, and may provide the answer as to why Harry Potter seems unable to leave him alone.

💞 [FIC] A pulled down shade by fast_brother 💞 (M, Draco/Harry, 43.1k)

Harry does not like Draco Malfoy, not even one bit. Never did and never will. That is, until he finds himself married to him.

💞 [FIC] Expiration of a Summer’s Rose by apricitydays 💞 (M, Draco/Harry, 60.0k)

Draco returns to England ten years after the war. Many things are different, but Harry is the same. But what does Harry have to do with Draco’s compelling new interest in botany? After an unexpected event disrupts the life Draco has built for himself, he slowly finds out. A hanahaki case fic

💞[FIC] tell me where it ends by SquibNation10 💞 (E, Draco/Harry, 63k)

After Harry wakes from his short-lived death, he begins to see red strings tied around the fingers of everyone he sees. No one else seems to be able to see them. He is surprised to see who is (or isn’t) tied to each other. He is tied to Draco Malfoy. Feature: Supportive Kingsley, a twist on the 8th-year fic

Draco/Harry and Harry/Tom

💞 [ART] Pour My Heart (In Places Where It Can’t Be Touched) by starlitsilvereyes | @starlitsilvereyes💞 (G, Tom/Harry and Draco/Harry, Digital Art)

Draco Malfoy’s soulmate is Harry Potter. Harry Potter’s soulmate is Tom Riddle. Only Tom Riddle disrupts fate with his bare hands when he decides to split his soul, severing the string that links him to Harry Potter. The prophecy takes its course – turning star-crossed lovers into enemies.

Draco/Ron

💞 [FIC] unless you’re choosing me by The_HouseRyn | @the-houseryn 💞 (M, Draco/Ron, 31k)

A soulmate was a choice. It was two people deciding to spend the rest of their lives together, weathering any storm. That was a fact that Ron would hold as truth for the rest of his life. Even when the Unspeakables found a spell in some ancient text that tied soulmates together with a red cord and showed them a moment of their “true love”. It was a hoax, he was sure of it. But no one else agreed, willing to upend their lives just because a stupid spell said so. Ron wouldn’t have minded so much if it hadn’t wrecked his.

Harry/Regulus

💞 [FIC] The Enemy of My Enemy by MidnightStargazer | @midnightstargazer💞 (T, Harry/Regulus, 33.8k)

In a world where soulmates are identified by tattoo-like marks on the body, Harry Potter was born with a constellation on his arm. For nearly seventeen years, it sits there, dormant and dark. Then, as he and Dumbledore enter the cave where they believe a Horcrux may be hidden, the stars begin to glow. The Blacks don’t go looking for their soulmates. Regulus was taught from an early age to ignore the lightning bolt on his skin and prioritize his duty to the family. But when he finds himself thrust into an unfriendly future, his soulmate may be the only person he can trust. At first glance, the two have little in common beyond their mutual desire to see Voldemort defeated. Will that be enough to bring them together? In a world where soulmates are identified by tattoo-like marks on the body, Harry Potter was born with a constellation on his arm. For nearly seventeen years, it sits there, dormant and dark. Then, as he and Dumbledore enter the cave where they believe a Horcrux may be hidden, the stars begin to glow. The Blacks don’t go looking for their soulmates. Regulus was taught from an early age to ignore the lightning bolt on his skin and prioritize his duty to the family. But when he finds himself thrust into an unfriendly future, his soulmate may be the only person he can trust. At first glance, the two have little in common beyond their mutual desire to see Voldemort defeated. Will that be enough to bring them together?

Harry/Severus

💞 [ART] Lovers' Eyes by acydpop | @acydpop 💞 (T, Harry/Severus, Traditional Art)

Having a soulmate in their world was dangerous. Being away from Harry while he was in auror training was painful, but Severus found a way to keep Harry with him forever.

💞 [PODFIC] Finders Keepers by Lilian recorded by Cailynwrites💞 (T, Harry/Severus, 50 min)

Based on the fic by Lilian Severus Snape doesn’t find a single thing until he’s twenty. By that time, he has given up and ignores a young boy, when he arrives at Hogwarts.

💞 [FIC] Invisible String by emeraldlove | @givereadersahug 💞 (G, Harry/Severus, 3.7k)

The first time Harry saw Snape’s black eyes — him truly acknowledging Snape’s existence beyond him being his mean professor — it was the night after Harry killed Professor Quirrell. He was dreaming and in his dreams he was screaming. Harry dreams of Severus over the years.

Harry/Teddy

💞 [FIC] Of Flowers, Unfaded by Aspen_Gray | @aspengray 💞 (E, Teddy/Harry, 34k)

“Excerpt from Arithmancy journals of the witch Brwyn y Dail, inventor of the Ipsum and Morex spells: “In crafting this Fpell, it had been mine Intention to affift fuch Perfons that feek their Foulmate. They will come to know themselves with the bundle of Flora I have named the Ipsa Coronae and their Mate or Mates with an Alteri one…Af their Relationfhip groweth, the third and final Coronae, the Vicini, will detail its ftatuf.” Or: Teddy and Harry are soulmates. It takes a long time for Teddy to realize this fact and an even longer time for Harry to accept it.

Harry/Tom (Voldemort)

💞 [FIC] Stories that end and begin by HadrianPeverellBlack 💞 (M, Tom/Harry, 4k)

Tom had been right. Now that he was in his fifth year at Hogwarts, he could state that Soulmates were a nuisance. With the exception of a few souls who could consider themselves lucky, most of them were forced to put up with people they despised and who would do no good for their future.

James/Regulus

💞 [FIC] Fireflies by shushu_yaoi_lj | @orange-peony 💞 (E, James/Regulus, 26.9k)

James’s fingers suddenly brush against his skin, touching the very top of Regulus’s spine. “This,” James says, his touch featherlight as it ghosts over Regulus’s skin, making it tingle in the most peculiar way. “It’s a lovely tattoo. Almost like antlers. When did you get it?” Regulus can’t speak. This can’t be possible. Of all people—why James Potter? Still, his mother’s words echo in his head. Every member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black has a soul mark. A tattoo that appears at birth and can only be seen by their soulmate.

James/Sirius

💞 [FIC] breakable heaven by Graceless_Lady | @gracelesslady23 💞 (M, James/Sirius, 7.8k)

James lies comatose in the hospital wing with a curse that can be cured by his soulmate’s kiss. Unlike fairytales, however, in life the story doesn’t end with learning your soulmate’s identity… and true love’s course doesn’t always run smoothly.

Marcus/Oliver

💞 [FIC] rough around the edges (but the edges look good) by epsilonargus | @epsilonargus 💞 (G, Marcus/Oliver, 8.5k)

oliver wood is obsessed with 2 things: quidditch, and marcus flint. and his soulmark will be, must be, awakened by marcus flint’s first words—if only he could get the surly slytherin to talk to him…

Marcus/Percy

💞 [FIC] Fifteen Years of Preparation by EloiseEvans | @eloiseevans 💞 (M, Marcus/Percy, 3.3k)

Percy wasn’t ready. A fact that threw him off, regardless of the cause. Because Percy was always ready. It was a fact of life, a tenet that he lived by. The situation was made even worse by the sheer amount of time that he’d had to prepare. Fifteen years to be precise. But together, they would fix it.

Remus/Severus

💞 [FIC] Phantom by nocturn 💞 (T, Remus/Severus, 1.8k)

Soulmates communicate by writing on each other’s skin, Severus leaves Remus on read way too often, and the two confront a little unfinished business because (you guessed it) they’re ghosts!

💞 [FIC] He’s already in me by p0intless_p0et 💞 (T, Severus/Remus, 2.9k)

On the night of Dumbledore’s death, Lupin’s mark appeared.

Remus/Sirius

💞 [Podfic] Coming Across a Silver Moon based on the fic by sliebman10, recorded by BurningAurora | @burningaurora 💞 (T, Sirius/Remus, 30 min)

When Sirius’s father bids him to investigate the rumors of a beast in the forest surrounding their lands, he meets a humble woodsman, Remus, and learns about the mark of true love, and what exactly might be lurking in the forest.

💞 [Podfic] Romantic Obscenities and Other Curiosities Of Love based on the fic by casstayinmyass, recorded by BurningAurora and ashata | @itsaash💞 (T, Sirius/Remus, 41 min)

Sirius Black’s soulmate has a foul mouth– that’s all he knows. Remus Lupin wonders what he could have possibly done to warrant such an explosion of words that he’s had tattooed on his back his whole life. In the small mountain town of Hogsmeade, they’re both bound to find out soon

💞 [FIC] Click to Connect by TherestheSnitch | @theresthesnitch 💞 (E, Sirius/Remus, 11.0k)

When the only way to find a soulmate is to see if you Click! during anal sex, being a Bottom with a very well endowed soulmate can make things hard–hard to get off, that is. Sirius is a little desperate to find his big-cocked Top soulmate.e

Severus/Sirius

💞 [FIC] Soulless: Blind Date by picklesonsaturday | @picklesonjupiter 💞 (T, Sirius/Severus, 1.7k)

There were three types of soulmates: platonic, romantic, and enemy. Severus was one of the rare few without a soulmate. He was one of the soulless. Those who are shunned by society because they are seen as unable to make connections, which is a blatant lie. Or Severus has the opportunity of finding love when he goes on a blind date.

#hp soulmates 2023 #hp soulmates #masterlist #hp fest #hp events #mod post

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jewishconvertthings · 7 months

Note

Hi! So, I’m a fictive in a plural system. The body is halachally Jewish by reform standards (patrilinear) but in exomemories, my family was WASP-y as hell. I’m reasonably sure I need to go through the process to convert and I consider myself a Jew in progress, however, I’ve got absolutely no idea how to explain the situation to a rabbi. I actually tried reaching out over email to one at the shul we half heartedly attend, but I didn’t get an answer. I’m not sure if it ended up in spam somehow or if he did see it and thought I was fucking with him or crazy. Or both. I don’t have any guarantees I’ll be in the system forever, though I’ve been here for like three years now. Is it worth trying again? The shul is Reform and super chill with LGBT stuff, but I don’t know what that means for the scarier neurodivergences.

Hi there!

So you are definitely not the first (and I doubt you'll be the last) person to ask about plurality and conversion to Judaism here. Because of that, I am giving a much more extensive answer that may exceed the scope of your question, because I want to be able to hopefully assist others with similar questions. Thank you in advance for your patience!

Here's the thing about being plural and conversion - you convert as a unit. Once the body is halachicly Jewish, that's it, you all are. Judaism is interesting in that we already canonically believe in (at least Jews) having multiple souls. Additionally, there is the mystical idea that the soul of every convert was at Sinai and therefore that when someone is driven to convert it's because they already had a Jewish soul. However, they still need to convert.

Why? Because Judaism is an embodied religion. It is very much about taking things that exist in the animal world and elevating them to sanctity through mitzvot. Every human and animal pees, but Jews say a bracha afterwards because we are grateful that our body's innards are working correctly enough to make that possible. Every human and animal eats, but Jews keep kosher and say brachot to sanctify what goes into our bodies. Judaism even has mitzvot related to married couples' conduct with their spouse, especially in relationship to menstruation. For as much as Judaism believes in souls, it equally believes in grounding those souls in the earthly realm and therefore liberating the divine sparks of creation in the process.

Which is all to say: Judaism is also a group project. We are judged collectively as a nation on Rosh Hashana and repent as a nation on Yom Kippur. Even if you were a singlet, you would still need to consider carefully whether you were prepared to join in the collective project of mitzvot. People who have existing familial ties to others may find it more challenging to convert. What if your spouse or teenage children do not wish to convert with you? It is often still possible to convert (I did, and my spouse did not convert with me) but it requires at least some amount of buy-in support from those you live with and are permanently tied to, even if they are not directly joining you. My spouse, who again is not Jewish and did not convert with me, still knows at least as much about kashrut as I do because he does the vast majority of the cooking, he helps me clean and prep for Pesach every year, and he actually eats pesadik food with me every year so as not to bring chametz into the house. He helps me prepare the house for Shabbat and does not interfere with the setup, and works around my observance. It's a huge commitment from a gentile who does not believe in G-d and appreciates but does not wish to join the Jewish people.

Your system has to be on board. They just do. Because if/when you decide not to front or determine that it's time to move on or what-not, the body will still be halachicly Jewish and it will be up to those running it to determine how to act in light of that reality.

For what it's worth, I am very familiar with a system who converted, and I have learned about what their internal conversation was like beforehand. It was extensive! They operate like a family, and there are six of them. Two it was clear right away were dyed-in-the-wool Jewish and were they singlets, nothing could have stopped them from becoming observant Jews. (One probably would have tried to become a rebbetzin and the other would've become a gay yeshiva bochur. Alas ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.) Two of them were people who would make excellent Jews, but probably also could've stayed excellent pagans. The fifth is very much a skeptic and the sixth was very much a Witch. The middle two were easy to sway after being exposed to queer-friendly Judaism. The fifth only agreed after understanding enough about Yiddish socialism and the history of Jewish leftism and secular culture that he realized he could very much appreciate yiddishkeit even if he didn't really believe in G-d (or if G-d is real, didn't really trust or like G-d given the state of the world.) He basically agreed that as long as he never had to do the davening or ritual mitzvot, he was cool with it.

The sixth acquiesced to the majority. She was very uneasy about making an eternal vow of any kind to any being, but especially one as powerful as the Almighty, and especially with something as complicated to follow as the mitzvot. She was reassured by the process of Yom Kippur to annul vows (Kol Nidrei) and to reset the slate through teshuva and collective forgiveness. She was also very nervous about the concept of tying one's fate to the collective fate of the Jewish people in terms of said agreement to keep the mitzvot. Her position was basically: You Don't Make Deals With Things You Can't See, and YES That Absolutely Includes Hashem. But! If the rest were going to insist on doing that anyway, well. They'd better be willing to hold by that Forever, even after death. How frum were they willing to be? After some further discussion (fifth alter's reluctance notwithstanding) they collectively agreed that they would agree to the mitzvot on the terms of the Conservative movement. The fifth alter agreed that he would not do anything to disrupt the others' observance even if he personally might have done differently as a secular/atheist Jew, e.g. watched TV on Shabbat or driven somewhere besides shul.

It's worth noting that I got this story because we are friends and that once they had full system buy-in, they decided for safety reasons *not* to discuss this particular wrinkle of psychology with their rabbis. Now, part of that decision was that that are a healthy system that works well together, has had extensive post-trauma therapy that *did* work with each alter individually as well as the system collectively, and were totally functional (after therapy) without any sort of psychiatric intervention. They were unwilling to jeopardize the relative safety from mental health institutions and their professional career by "coming out" about their plurality to anyone of authority in person or online. (I have obtained their collective permission to share this story as anonymized through myself as a third party to help other systems who are considering giyur.)

So to be clear, this is the advice I would offer as a layperson and as an informed friend.

**Major important reminder that I am not a rabbi or a mental health professional.**

Now, your situation is somewhat different from theirs, in that any conversion you make is going to be to solidify your halachic status as someone who is already Jewish in a major way and probably considered Jewish by the Reform movement already. They did not have previously existing ties to Judaism, whereas even if you do nothing, you will still be Jewish (even if not halachicly so by the traditional movements.)

I would recommend having a full system discussion. You want to figure out what your system, as a collective unit, needs, wants, and is willing to go along with. You will want, as part of this discussion, to do a major mental health and system balance analysis as well. How stable is your system? How functional are you as a group in the broader world? How healthy are your relationships to one another? Do you have trauma to unpack first? Need some type of therapeutic intervention? Do it now; do it first.

Then, if everyone is on board (enough) and working well together as a system, I would approach a rabbi to convert as a unit. It's up to you to determine how much, if anything, to disclose about your plurality to the Rabbi, so long as you can honestly tell him that you are [all] mentally well and stable. It is very possible to be a healthy system and/or to have long-term chronic mental illnesses while still being relatively stable and mentally well. Lots of people with well-managed mood disorders, personality disorders, developmental disorders, and even reality and dissociation disorders can and have converted. Judaism can truly be a place of peace and a shelter for the troubled. However, you must know yourself(/ves) well and you must be willing to seek professional help first or along the way if needed.

All of the plural stuff aside, I would recommend reaching out again after the high holidays and/or considering reaching out to a Conservative rabbi. The Reform movement may already consider you Jewish and therefore may not want to do a giyur l'chumra. The Conservative movement (much as I might personally disagree with it on this point) would not consider you halachicly Jewish and would be delighted to help you solidify your Jewish identity. If you ultimately decide not to convert but rather to reclaim and learn through the Reform movement, please know that you still have a place here. It's labeled as a gerische space, but the same types of resources and communities tend to help both gerim and reclaimants. We would be delighted to help you connect to your heritage and people and to support you doing so in a way that feels the most correct and appropriate to you.

Wishing you all the best in your exploration, a shana tova, and a meaningful Yom Kippur if you are observing it!

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jupiterswasphouse · 3 months

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Saw you like great golden diggers and if I'm not mistaken I saw one shortly after moving to the PNW! She was one of the most beautiful bugs I've ever seen.

Ohhh how beautiful!! I hope that she enjoyed her meal ^^ thanks for sharing!

[Image IDs: Two photos of an orange, yellow, and black great golden digger wasp feeding from a green plant with bundles of white flowers with very prominent stamens, potentially apple mint or a similar plant /End IDs.]

#Wasp House Answers #Bugblr #Wasps #thread waisted wasp #sphecidae #hymenoptera #photos

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jungle-angel · 1 year

Text

It Takes A Village To Catch A Menace (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You and Rhett adore your kids, but once they’re turned loose with their cousins, they give everybody a run for their money

Tagging: @rhettabbotts Shelby, I hope you’re doing ok. I know things have been kinda rough but I thought this might give you a good laugh and cheer you up a bit

No one could have asked for a better day than this, the threat of a long, hot summer approaching from around the corner and the Dutton Land near to bursting with the new life of spring. So many animals had been born as soon as spring hit, mostly from the cattle, but to everyone’s surprise, even the bison hadn’t slacked in the procreation department. Everyone was reeling with excitement when it was discovered that a white calf had been born to a female in Felix Long’s herd, a highly auspicious sign in everyone’s eyes.

Rhett, Rip and Kayce leaned against the wood rails of the paddock fence, watching the little calf graze with its mother, the cow clipping the grass and the little one sneaking in to nurse every so often.

“It’s gonna be a good year, that’s for sure,” Rip remarked, pushing his aviators back up onto his nose.

“Herds are doing great, land’s nice and green,” Rhett added. “Couldn’t ask for better.”

“Yeah and in two weeks, you and I are gonna be uncles again,” Rip chuckled.

“Because THAT horn dog over there couldn’t keep it in his pants!” Rhett laughed, pointing to Kayce.

“Fuck all o’ ya’ll and the horses you rode in on,” Kayce retorted.

Rhett laughed but deep down, he knew Kayce and Monica deserved it. Sure, they had Tate, but after one rough ride, Monica had given birth to Jake, their precious little rainbow baby and Felicity after that. Now, another little girl would be entering the family in just a few weeks. There wasn’t a day that went by where you and Rhett hadn’t kept the family in your prayers, grateful for the lifelong bond you all shared with one another.

The three men kept talking away, hardly noticing the smaller footsteps traipsing through the grass behind them. Rhett, Rip and Kayce turned to find Tatum and Tanner, yours and Rhett’s twin boys, Rip’s son Joey and Kayce and Monica’s little boy, Jake, running through the grass with something in their hands.

“Whatcha got there boys?” Rhett asked them.

“Nothin,” the four little boys chirped.

Rhett, Rip and Kayce all looked at each other, knowing that nothing usually meant something.

“I’m gonna ask ya’ll one more time,” Rhett warned them. “What’ve ya’ll got in your hands?”

“There’s a wasp nest in the tree daddy,” Tatum chirped.

“Yeah, a big one,” Tanner added.

“And we’re gonna burn it off the branch,” Joey proudly declared, holding up one of John’s cigar lighters.

Rhett, Kayce and Rip were suddenly overcome with a look of fear on their faces, almost as though each one had just shit themselves.

“Uh oh,” Tatum said meekly, noticing the look on his father’s face.

“HAND THAT SHIT OVER!!!!”

“NO!!!!!”

The four little boys took off into the grass, their fathers all hot at their heels as they leapt over the pasture fences and chased them around one tree after another.

You and Beth had just come out onto the front porch of the main house, coffee mugs in hand, ready to relax and enjoy the morning before helping Monica with whatever she needed. All of a sudden, you heard the shouts of small children and three grown men coming up behind them.

“Oh my God, what did they get into now?” Beth chuckled.

“Well, I noticed at least three cans of hairspray and your dad’s cigar lighter was missing,” you answered.

Beth almost choked and spat out her coffee. “Why the fuck do they even have that?!”

“One of life’s great mysteries I guess.”

You and Beth fought the urge to chase your sons through the yard, letting their fathers try and catch them for once. John’s heavy footsteps came up beside you, his gaze fixed on the sight before him. “Anybody have any idea where my good cigar lighter went?” he asked.

“Why don’t you ask your devil grandchildren Dad,” Beth answered.

John laughed and shook his head when a loud curse from Rip reached his ears. “I’m gettin way too old for this shit,” he chuckled before pulling his phone from his pocket and hitting the record-video button on his camera.

*******************

“C’MERE YA LITTLE SHITHEADS!!!!” Rhett bellowed as he, Rip and Kayce charged across the grass towards the barns.

“No we need it!!!” Tatum yelled back.

“BULLSHIT!!!”

Teeter and Avery leaned out the window of the loft where they had been stacking haybales all morning. ”What the fuck are them lil goat turds doin now?” Teeter questioned, adjusting the Astros cap on her head.

“No idea but by the looks on their faces, I’d say it’s not good,” Avery answered.

“SOMEBODY HELP US CATCH THESE DAMN KIDS!!!” echoed Rhett’s voice.

“Ight, let’s go git’em,” Teeter sighed climbing through the trapdoor and down the ladder. “Them idjits have suffered enough.”

Teeter and Avery headed down into the main stables where three of the other ranch hands were busy feeding the horses. “The fuck’s all that yellin about?” Lloyd asked.

“Them lil skunk-herd motherfuckers are at it again,” Teeter answered. “Ya’ll got the oversized feedin sacks?”

Colby tossed her one and Jimmy took another before giving one to Avery. “What’re ya’ll doin with those?” Lloyd questioned.

“Gonna go and catch’em,” Teeter answered before sticking her gum behind her ear.

“Well, if ya’ll are goin, I’m goin too,” Lloyd chuckled. “I ain’t missin this shitshow.”

Teeter led the way and the ranch hands all hurried to the other end of the pasture, blocking off the only escape route the boys had a hope of taking to outrun their fathers.

“Keep’em steady boys!” Teeter ordered.

The kids came charging over the hill with Rhett, Kayce and Rip still on their heels, clutching the cans of hairspray and the lighter as if their lives depended on it. In a split second, each one of them tumbled right into the feed sacks, the hands closing them right up as they wriggled and squirmed inside.

“Thanks guys,” Rhett blurted out, completely out of breath as he took one of the sacks that had a twin inside of it. “We owe ya’ll one.”

“You don’t owe us shit,” Lloyd told him. “Here, c’mon, bring’em back to the bunkhouse, I’ll make damn sure they’ve got the fear of God in’em for this one.”

Rhett, Rip and Kayce followed them all back to the bunkhouse, hoping that this time the boys would learn their lesson.

****************

“Are you shitting me?” Thomas Rainwater laughed as he watched the video John had pulled up on his phone.

“No, wait, it gets better,” John told him.

Thomas laughed and shook his head as he heard the loud curses and Beth’s remark. Mo tried to hide his laughter too, but it was no use. Neither of them cared who in that office saw them or heard them. It was just too funny to look away from.

“I take it they went down to the fire station?” Thomas asked him.

“Nope,” John replied. “Didn’t have to do that. Lloyd took’em aside and showed’em what’ll happen if they do it again.”

Thomas and Mo each made a face knowing that Lloyd’s tactics, as unorthodox as they were, would at least stick with the boys for a long time.

“Well,” Mo sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Maybe there’s an advantage to all this.”

“You’re damn right Mo,” John said. “There’s definitely an advantage.”

“And what might that be?” Thomas asked him.

“If that bitch, Caroline Warner, ever comes onto the property again and tries to pry the land out of our hands, we’ll just sick the grandkids on her,” John explained. “Odds are no land developers will ever come back.”

“Truth be told, I like those odds,” Thomas grinned.

#outer range #yellowstone #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rip wheeler #kayce dutton #rip x beth #kayce x monica #lloyd pierce #thomas rainwater #john dutton

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bonefall · 7 months

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i am definitely one of those people who gives their cats warrior names so here r my parents' two young cats:

"Cloudbound"-> Haipipip "fat cloud bouncing." He is a big floofy ragdoll himbo and he reminds me of a cotton swab.

"Flywhisker" -> Ffawshusspap "keen fruit fly." There's not yet words in the lexicon for her name I think, so I used "bee sensing with carpal whiskers" as a placeholder which is kind of what I want to get at but she's really more of a fruit fly yk? And I couldn't find a personality adjective for an observant cat or a proficient hunter, which I think could be a good addition regardless. Anyways she is a very skittish and twitchy little black and white spotted cat and i am her favorite person because i walk quietly.

Don't feel obligated to answer this ask, i just wanted to share :]

FLIES

Fruit flies are actually quite rare, and mostly only seen in ThunderClan because of their notorious love of including fruit in their recipes. This climate is very cold, and fruit flies are most common around human settlements where there's a year-round supply of fruit (pre-infested!) coming in from supermarkets.

So I'll add fruit flies when I get around to a legitimate entry on flies as a whole, but for now, there's a whole bunch of teeny flies that could be very fitting here.

Let's start with the broad "categories" of "Fly" that Clan Cats have plus some related words;

Fly (Generic) = Usprr Any insect that primarily flies to travel, but is not a butterfly, dragonfly, or midge. Bees are a type of Fly in Clanmew. (Midges include craneflies, robberflies, and mosquitoes)

Waste = Bloh Translates directly. A waste. Something that can't be used.

Gall = Oorp Swollen bumps and shapes that rise off plants to house certain types of insects, very popular with certain types of flies, but also used by some mites.

To Harmlessly Pretend/To Pretend To Be Busy = Aweerron/Aweerro/Aweerr This is a REALLY hard verb to translate into English. Translated directly, it means "doing the act of being dandelion-yellow." Translated roughly, it means to don the color yellow so you're left alone by something with a greater threat-level. It can mean 'compliance,' or it can mean to 'mind your own business,' or it can even mean 'looking busy.' A verb that describes several animals, but especially types of flies, of which bees are a type. Their yellow coloration acts as a deterrent to bigger animals who want to avoid being stung. If you've ever been at work and just done something pointless when the boss rolls around, so you don't get assigned more work, you were doing this.

Maggot (of any fly) = Ulae The most general term for baby flies of all types. Also used for bee larvae. NOT derogatory in Clanmew.

Maggot (of green bottlefly) = Huli The medicinal maggot, a VERY important species for use in treating SEVERE wounds.

SPECIFIC CATEGORIES OF FLIES

Hover Fly = Hafrr Little flies capable of a true hover, coming in various odd shapes, but most are dandelion-yellow. Just like butterflies, a fly that is capable of performing this difficult flight pattern is highly respected, but in a cutesy, diminutive way. Hover flies are primarily pollinators, seen around flowers. Being likened to a hoverfly is like being called "spunky."

Building Fly = Kyybr Most bees, wasps, hornets, certain gall flies. Flies that build another structure. Ants temporarily become these at certain times of the year, according to the Clan cat interpretation of an ant's nuptial flight. There are a TON of other subtypes under this, wasps, solitary bees, swarming bees, etc, which I'll get into some other time.

Bristle Fly = Bfurr Probably what you imagine when you hear "fly." Round, bristly, buzzy things, which are often attracted to rotting things and waste. A little fruit fly is a type of bfurr, but so are bottleflies and the golden dung fly. Some flies which are not drawn to decaying matter, such as the Red Parasite Fly, get lumped in here too.

Lace Fly = Honrr Clear-winged, slender insects. Includes scorpionflies, some sawflies, actual lacewings, and the bay sucker.

And lastly, a couple of interesting species.

Scorpionfly (Panorpa Communis) = Yykrn The web-pilferer. Named for its habit of snatching the prey of spiders right out of their webs!

Cleg (Haematopota pluvialis) = Grawr The MOST annoying fly in the entire Clans, absolutely detested. A nasty creature whose bite contains an anticoagulant, causing it to bleed profusely. Common in WindClan and near the edges of conifer forests (such as the plantation near ShadowClan). Considered a lot worse than mosquitoes, which are just itchy.

Marmalade Hover Fly (Episyrphus balteatus) = Fsi Yes. Marmalade can be a valid warrior cat prefix if you'd like <3 The most common hoverfly, traveling in swarms and looking almost exactly like a bee. Their maggots kill aphids and the adults pollinate flowers, causing them to be looked at especially fondly in ThunderClan.

Green Bottlefly (Lucilia sericata) = Holibf The species that is attracted by Clerics so its maggots can be used in medicine. A fly species you're definitely already familiar with, for its shiny, green abdomen.

#Flies #Clanmew

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theircurse · 12 days

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━━━━━━ㅤㅤGET TO KNOW THE MUN . 🌙

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ(ꜱ) ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ?

This is embarrassing but when I first watched BSD, the second I saw them in the OP, I was like ' WHO IS THAT CUTE KID ? ' and then it was all over from there. I did not know that this ' cute kid ' would be holding the brain cell for like six years nowㅤ—ㅤor that in those six years, Asagiri would still REFUSE TO GIVE THEM ANY SCREEN TIME OR STORY RELEVANCE PAST SEASON 2.

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ?

Nothing really aside from s/mut and r/omance ? I have played adult muses despite my abundance of child muses and shipping was never really something I found appealing. And when I do play adult muses, I tend to like slowburn but probably too slow for the other partner lol

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ?

Let Yumeno see things ! Let Yumeno experience life ! But also let them experience THE HORRORS.

ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ?

Sometimes they just pop in my head or some sort of media or thing I'm consuming makes me think of the headcanons ! And considering Asagiri didn't give me a lot to work withㅤ—ㅤit's free real estate.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪɴ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ?

Usually I do !

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴡɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ?

99% of the time, I wing them because I am the most organized A/DHD person in the world /s. Sometimes in the rare instance that a reply is REALLY LONG or there's a lot of stuff happening in the reply, I plan them !

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ?

Motions at the answer I typed about this. Not really ! Maybe that's why I stick to minor muses for the most part. Howeverㅤ—ㅤI am all for platonic / familial dynamics.

ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟɪᴀꜱ/ɴᴀᴍᴇ?

Stella ! I don't have any profound story about it tbh. I just liked how it sounded.

ᴀɢᴇ?

Old 28.

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ?

May 1st and I have the most FUCKED Astral birth chart ever !

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ(ꜱ)?

Everyone knows it's blues but I enjoy the rare purple / pink / red every once in a while.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ(ꜱ)?

I have this disease called I hyperfixate on the same songs for long periods of time until they lose all meaning. I ALSO have a disease called I'm very specific about what I like to the point that I DON'T know what I like. But some of my favorite artists are Bring Me The Horizon, Emilie Autumn, FAKE TYPE, In This Moment, POPPY, etc. Butㅤ—ㅤI've mainly been listening to P/okemon OSTS lately lol

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

I honestly cannot remember !

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Some weird Kdrama my Dad and I still haven't finished.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ?

Giant stellar turtle !

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏᴏᴅ?

Basically any form of junk food like cookies and cake and also Chinese egg tarts. In terms of real food, pasta, shrimp rice noodle rolls, adobo, lumpia, sinigang, etc.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ?

The cold dead winter because I don't have to worry about cutting the grass or bugs ! We SOMEHOW always get wasp infestations in our house every spring / summer and it's super annoying.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ?

Yes ! There's @jardinae who's so creative and talented and her OC world is absolutely magical ! Then there's @embxllmer who I've been friends with since before BSD which is crazy because you all know I've been in BSD for YEARS. Then there's @diverse-hearts and @smol-sirens-garden who've seen me at my best and my worse and tolerate me screaming about infinitely spawning fish in H/SR ! @idleautumn is like a big sister to me and then @lunargifted and I have been moots for a while but we've already been through a lot together and I trust them a lot ! There are definitely more I'm missing as well but every mutual is friend-shaped !

Tagged by: @jardinae ( ilu )

Tagging: Whoever !

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