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#am i going to have to turn off anon asks
reasonsforhope · 6 months
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Heads up/warning that I'm going to start posting articles related to the Israel-Palestine War
I've worked really, really hard to keep my blog about positive news only, and that's going to continue - these posts will be only about good news related to the war.
Of which there really, really isn't much, so I don't know that there will be a lot of posts, but I will be posting articles about humanitarian aid reaching those who need it and actions that will prevent more lives from being taken.
I know that, no matter my position on the war, this is something that would be very controversial and make a lot of people upset, so I wanted to be explicit about my position on this - and my posting policy, which is not the same thing. I also wanted to give people a heads up because I know the war in general is really, really triggering for a lot of people right now, for a lot of different reasons. I'll be tagging all relevant posts, so if screening those out is something that you need to do, you can.
I have worked very hard to make this blog a space with only good news because I know how much it can matter to have just one place, if nowhere else, that you can count on to not give you emotional whiplash with horrible news. To know you have one place you can go where you are guaranteed not to see bad news that will send you into a tailspin. That's why I've had a policy of not including signal boosts or PSAs about tragedies, no matter what they are, on this blog. (I do post about some of that stuff, including the Israel-Palestine War, on my main blog, though. I consider this blog to be me trying to run a public service, basically, and so have specific policies for myself around that, including my editorial and fact-checking standards.)
I'm going to be honest, I was really, really hoping the war would end after a couple of weeks, which has historically not been uncommon for wars with/involving Israel.
But that's clearly not happening, and I can't keep not acknowledging what's happening on here, so, this post.
With that, I imagine people probably want to know my actual stance on the war, since that's what I'll be posting in accordance with.
So, here's the official stance of this blog:
Every time a civilian is killed, it is a tragedy; Every time a child is killed, it is a tragedy, no matter their nationality. I condemn all antisemitism and all Islamophobia.
I support all calls for a ceasefire, as well as demands that Israel immediately stop its repeated bombing of hospitals, ambulances, shelters (including UN shelters), and refugee camps.
There is no situation in which the repeated and/or intentional bombing of hospitals is justified.
There is no situation in which the repeated and/or intentional bombing of shelters or refugee camps is justified.
There is no situation in which the repeated and/or intentional bombing of ambulances is justified.
There is no situation in which the killing of children is justified. Yet more children have now been killed in Gaza than in all global conflict zones combined in each year since 2019.
There is no situation in which cutting off an entire country and/or territory's supply of food and water is justified.
Yes, this applies to every group involved in the war, including countries supplying either side, and any countries or non-state organizations who may yet join the fighting.
The initial Hamas attack on Israel was a tragedy. The continued Israeli bombardment and invasion of Palestine is also a tragedy.
Most of the things I post will be about aid reaching Palestinians or news about tangible, confirmed progress toward a ceasefire. I probably will not be posting good news posts about aid reaching Israel, unless it's explicitly and only humanitarian and/or barring drastic unforeseen changes in circumstance. This is because as of yesterday, November 7, the Palestinian death toll is over 10,000 to Israel's roughly 1,400 (only about 200 of whom have been killed in the past month, starting on October 8, aka outside of the initial attack by Hamas). At least 3,195 children have died in Gaza, 33 in the West Bank, and 29 in Israel.
The Palestinian death toll is nearly 8 times the Israeli death toll. The number of children killed is 110 times higher in Palestine than Israel. (Source for death toll here, ratios via calculator.) Every single one of those deaths is a tragedy - and there have been far, far too many tragedies this past month.
(On a related note, Israel stands very, very little chance of actually eliminating Hamas with this war. The US has attempted this same strategy and failed many times: the US failed to eliminate the communist/North Korean regime in the Korean War, which is technically still ongoing 70 years later; failed to eliminate the Viet Cong in the Vietnam War; failed to eliminate numerous groups of Iraqi insurgents in the Iraq War, which triggered Iraq's civil war; and failed to eliminate the Taliban in the Afghanistan War, even though that war lasted for literally 20 years. Afghanistan is once again under total Taliban control.)
The last thing we need is another 20 year war. The last thing we need is more civilian deaths. Bombing civilian settlements, as well as hospitals, shelters, and refugee camps are war crimes under international law, meaning that both Israel and Hamas have committed war crimes.
It's time for the war crimes to stop.
Humanitarian aid reaching civilians is good news, and I will be posting accordingly.
Ceasefire now.
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pigeonpeach · 2 months
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Got my first hate ask today! Friendly reminder that the unfollow button is literally easy to access and completely fucking free. If you don’t like my content then don’t follow its simple as that. Also there is in fact something called a block button if I keep showing up on your feed unwanted.
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goregrishdotcom · 4 months
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If the world were in a better place we would've had an ask-kratsplayboy venigni ask blog by now and people would be sending anons asking him what he thinks of P and trying to get him to confess to being a virgin then a magic (m!) Anon that swaps his body with P for ten asks and there would be moments where polendina will talk to the viewer and share a secret. You know
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toxictranny · 14 hours
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there needs to be an app for playdates. my hunt for broship has been exhausting, there must be an easier way
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ahsokatanoe · 1 month
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dear sydrichie community if anything like set pics/vids drop while i’m on my tbb hiatus for a couple of days out of the next couple of weeks PLEASE send me an ask/dm me!!!!!!! thank you omg
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rose-n-gunses · 2 months
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you friends with kez? better watch your back.
what
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wizardnuke · 9 months
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lived life puking randomly/being nauseous almost constantly for six months straight before my doctors fixed my shit. godspeed you are brave and strong and i mean that absolutely sincerely. but also start packing a plastic bag you trust (you will find out very quickly that ones from certain stores r more likely to have holes than others) in ur everyday bag it makes life. a lot easier. signed, someone who almost yakked fully on the floor of a jimmy john's because she had like three sips of milk tea.
god. i so so desperately hope this goes away within a few days i Cannot keep doing this. i haven't thrown up today at all but boy my body is Threatening It rn and it is so so bad. also the bag idea is smart i should do that and thank u :') this has been miserable im trying very hard to be brave abt it
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m1d-45 · 1 year
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Truth to be told, I was not a huge fan of the SAGAU. I just thought it was a bit of a wasted potential, the themes just being played around in my opinion (everyone can like whatever) BUT then I came across your writing? Yes, I think I've grown rather fond toward it now. It was like finding gold in a mine... Words put together intricately, so beautifully, the symbolism subtle if not one squints to recognize, and just... *chef's kiss*
Very in love with your work ❤ have a great day/night, ty for bringing new light on the SAGAU for me!
thank you so much <33 i’m glad to know i’ve interested you in the genre, and though i can’t point you in any directions, i do reccomend you poke around a bit more online! there are a lot of great writers around, and i’m grateful you think i’m one of them!
enjoy your stay!
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tobe-sogolden · 2 years
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No. Olivia dosen't even run that fast to her kids to make sure they are ok, so I bet she just dropped by to have a good shag. That's what she's good at. Experiencing and portraying sex and female pleasure. Her big O is important. I think she must have taken a clit test too after Harry made her come. After all her female sexual hunger is important. It's feminism. Sex is a revolutionary step towards feminism. Otherwise she's a misogynist.
I'm assuming this is in response to my tag from a week (?) ago which was mostly a joke and this seems like it's supposed to be a drag but imo it's not a drag to enjoy sex or to be passionate about portraying female sexuality in a more accurate way than we see in 98% of media lol. I think any steps taken to deconstruct all the shame around female sexuality and to de-center male pleasure in the sex scenes we consume is a good thing. Female pleasure has always been and still continues to be taboo and it's created a culture of extreme shame around our sexual desires (esp for those of us who grew up in the church like myself). And honestly it's something most women don't even start to deconstruct until their 30s/40s bc a lot of us spend our teens/20s believing the rhetoric that women don't need/want/enjoy sex but still have to be sexually available for men. Our pleasure is so so so rarely prioritized in any form of media so we're not taught to prioritize it when we actually are intimate with a partner. That sucks! I'm not going to flame her for acknowledging that in interviews and trying to do the opposite in her film.
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rileyslibrary · 3 months
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After suffering a gunshot wound, you wake up in a hospital bed with Ghost sitting by your side. Unfortunately, the effects of anaesthesia leave you unable to recognise him and, worse, confuse him with someone else.
A/N: Fluff. Based on a request I received a while ago. Hope you like it, anon!
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A machine on your left beeps rhythmically. The taste of something metallic lingers in your mouth, and the iodine smell stinks your nostrils. Your eyes open slowly, but the bright ceiling light forces them shut again. You lick your lips and attempt to swallow a couple of times. Dry. Your mouth is dry. You need water. Your hand moves towards your face, but a low, raspy voice advises you against it.
“Careful now,” it says, and a hand gently grabs your wrist. “Don’t pull the IV off.”
You turn your head towards the figure beside you and squint. It’s a man, but your blurry vision doesn’t help you identify him. Your eyes travel to your wrist and focus on the closest part of him: a skeleton’s hand.
You try to shake your hand off his grip, but it turns out futile. Frustrated, you give up and raise your middle finger at him.
“Not my time yet,” you declare. “Fuck off.”
“Pardon?” he asks.
“Not ready to go yet,” you reply, tucking your middle finger in your palm and lifting it back up again. “And also, fuck off.”
The man releases your wrist, placing your hand gently beside you. He clears his throat and leans forward. Though your vision remains blurry, you spot what looks like a human skull with a hood over it.
“How are you feeling, love?” he asks, his tone softer.
“How am I feeling, love?” you repeat. “Did Hell improve their customer service?”
“I’m not-” The man begins but pauses. He sighs, shakes his head and rests his elbows on his thighs. “Never mind.”
“Where am I?” You ask.
“Hospital.” He replies. “You took a bullet.”
Directing your attention to your body, you feel a dull throb in your chest. You wince as your fingers brush against the bandages.
“You are joking.” You reply and slap your hand on the bed. “Why? How?”
“Well,” He says and tilts his head to the side. “You exchanged a few shots with the enemy, your gun ran out of bullets, his didn’t, and here we are.”
“My gun?” You ask, shocked. “I have a gun?”
“Several.” He nods.
“SEVERAL?” You shout. “Why would I possibly need several guns?”
“It’s your job, love.” He replies.
“My job is to have several guns?” you ask. “And shooting at people?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he explains, “but it’s mainly for defence.”
“Well,” you shrug and wince at the pain. “Doesn’t look like I’m that good at defence—especially for having several guns.”
“I was really worr—”
“Water,” you interrupt and gesture at your mouth. “I need water.”
“Doctor said it’s not the time for water yet,” he replies.
“Why?” you ask, pretending to check a non-existent wristwatch. “What time is it?”
“No, love,” he replies and muffles a chuckle. “Doctor said you need to wait until you have some water.”
“You throw the ‘love’ thing a little too freely,” you mumble, licking your lips and lifting your index finger. “I’d be really careful if I were you.”
“Really?” he asks, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Why?”
“I,” you say and point at yourself, “got a boyfriend, thank you very much.”
“Oh,” he exclaims and tilts his head. “Is that so.”
“Yup,” you nod. “And he can kill you.”
“Can he?”
“Can?” You say, and a smug smile forms on your dry lips. “He will absolutely, one hundred and a thousand per cent kill you.”
“Is he that good?” He asks.
“I mean,” you shrug, motioning at the bandages on your chest. “He’s much better than I am.”
“Oh wow,” he exclaims and leans forward. “Is he as good of a boyfriend as he is a shooter?”
“Far from it,” you reply, letting your hand fall to your side.
The man doesn’t speak. He doesn’t seem that comfortable all of a sudden. He shuffles in his chair, trying to find a better position, and when he does, he clasps his hands together.
“Go on,” he finally says. “Spill it.”
“Ok, so,” you begin, “first things first, he doesn’t listen to me when I want to vent, and whenever he does, all he says is nonsense.”
“The lad gives you solutions,” he snaps, “and you call them nonsense?”
“I don’t want solutions, man,” you reply, shaking your head. “I want him to just listen to me.”
“Even if the solutions he provides are literally the answers to your suffering?”
“Even then.” You confirm.
“Gotcha,” he nods. “What else?”
“Oof,” you sigh, “how much time do you have?”
“I’m immortal,” he reminds you, “plus the next reaping is in five hours.”
“Oh boy,” you reply. “Business not going that well lately, huh?”
“Not many deaths to take care of,” he spits. “I guess some people could use some serious training when it comes to their aim.”
“Speaking of training,” you say, “he’s always at work and never spends much time with me.”
“The guy’s trying to spend as much time with you as he can, for fucks sake!” he shouts, throwing his hands up. “He even lied to get you on his team!”
“How do you know he put me on his team?” You ask.
“I keep a close eye on him.” He replies.
“What did he lie about?”
“Your precision in aiming,” he jokes and motions for you to continue. “Next one.”
“I can’t think of anything else,” you reply. “Other than he doesn’t say how much he loves me.”
“You’re having a laugh now, aren’t you?” He says, and his tone feels almost threatening. “He’s showing it to you daily; offering advice, keeping you close to him, even risking the possibility of being accused of nepotism for crying out loud! He doesn’t need to say it as well for you to know it!”
“It’s just nice to hear it sometimes,” you sigh and twist a thread from the bed sheet. You turn your head slightly toward him, and he lowers his head to the ground.
“How about you?” You ask. “You have a girlfriend?”
“I do,” he confirms.
���Shut up!” You shout, widening your eyes and immediately closing them back again. “Where did you guys meet?”
“Hell,” he replies. “Right in the pits of it.”
“How is she?” You ask.
“Perfect.” He states.
“Bullshit,” you murmur. “No one’s perfect.”
“She is to me.” He says, shrugging.
“Do you love her?” You ask.
“Absolutely,” he replies, nodding slowly. “One hundred and a thousand per cent I do.”
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waterberry-strawmelon · 5 months
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aro-ai · 1 year
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Can you please keep your weird threatening posts out of the Kaitou Joker tag. You're not killing anyone or protecting anyone, you're just making uneasy posts that make everyone in the tag tense, especially those that follow the tag. Block people that are supposedly 'weirdposting' about characters that make you uncomfy. I have not seen a single 'weirdpost' about these characters that wasn't also tagged or rated mature. I don't have to see them because I have their tags blocked after learning what they were... Unlike you, who are talking about it, putting it in the main tag, and not tagging it.
I mean I can edit it out of the post pretty easy 👍 this is simply how I am and how I talk as a person to my friends so I don't put too much thought into things (some of my writing comes directly from messages where I was talking to my friends)
it was a one off mention which seems silly to me because I would proceed to quite literally never talk about it again
anyone can block me as well I genuinely do not care tbh I am just here to hyperfixate and share some silly clips of the dub and draw
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surftrips · 4 months
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luke x daughter of aphrodite!! maybe a super cute fluff where they help luke show percy around and just their experience with percy!
-🥽 anon
stop this prompt is soo cute ! thanks for sending it in &lt;3
"You okay?" Luke asked the newest camper in his cabin.
"Super."
"We all have them, you know." Luke clicked his tongue. "Intense, recurring nightmares. That's normal here. For the first time in your life, you're just like everyone else."
"So are you also... Do you not know who your..." the blonde boy began to ask.
"Am I unclaimed?" Luke shook his head. "No, Hermes is my father. That doesn't matter though, we're all on the same team here."
"Why is it okay they ignore some of us?"
"Spend too much time figuring out what the gods do whatever it is they do, you'll drive yourself crazy. Sooner you can stop worrying about that, the sooner you can enjoy what this place actually does offer."
"And what's that?"
Luke smiled, guiding Percy out the door to show him the rest of camp.
The two boys ran into Clarisse and the Ares kids first. Luke explained to Percy that the Ares kids were always confrontational and brutally honest, but he had nothing to worry about, as long as he was around.
"Come on, let's go figure out what you're good at."
After crossing off archery and metalworking, and dodging several near death experiences, they sat down for lunch.
"Is there a Greek god of disappointment?" Percy sighed.
"We're gonna find the thing you're good at, I know it," Luke reassured him. "We should try-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Luke's eyes lit up and a smile crossed his face, causing Percy to turn around.
A girl came over to Luke's side of the table and kissed the top of his head. "Hi, love."
Luke beamed, turning toward Percy. "Y/N, this is Percy, I'm giving him the tour. Percy, Y/N. She's in Aphrodite."
That much he could tell, Percy thought she was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen.
"Ah, bonjour! Comment ça va?" she asked him.
Percy looked confused, only recognizing the first part of the sentence. "Uhhh... hello?"
Y/N smiled softly, "Guess he's not in Aphrodite then. Any luck finding out your skill, Percy?"
"No, unforunately," Percy grumbled.
"Aw, don't worry. Soon enough you'll be like Luke here," she had moved to sit in his lap by now, one of his arms curled around her waist. "Did you know he's the best swordsman at camp?"
She looked at Luke proudly, Percy swore he saw hearts instead of pupils in her eyes.
"I think it's come up once or twice," Percy responded.
The Aphrodite girl smiled again, "Have you shown Percy the lake yet?" she asked Luke.
"No, not yet. Do you want to come with us?"
"You mean, do I want to show him the place where we met? Is that even a question?"
The trio finished up their food and headed back outside. Y/N led the way, her presence enough to clear a path in the group of campers idling outside. Luke and Percy followed a few feet behind her.
"So... how long have you two been...?" Percy asked shyly.
"Three years. Since we were 16," Luke responded. Though Percy had only known Luke for about a day at this point, he couldn't help but notice how Luke's entire demeanor had changed since Y/N's arrival.
"Oh, wow. That's a long time."
"I got really lucky."
"What do you mean?"
"Before I got here, I had nobody. I mean, there was Annabeth and Thalia, but they're like my sisters. Y/N was the one that showed me what love is."
"Is that what you meant earlier? About enjoying what this place has to offer?"
He smiled. "You might be surprised, Percy."
"Are you boys coming or not?" Y/N called back toward them.
"Yes, ma'am!" Luke yelled back, jogging up to where she was. They were almost at the lake by then.
"So, Percy, anyone at camp catch your eye yet?" Y/N asked, her hand wrapped around Luke's arm.
"Babe, he just got here." Luke said.
"So? I knew I liked you the second we met."
Luke blushed, caught off guard by her sincerity. That was one thing he wasn't sure he would ever get over, her ability to express her emotions so unabashedly. It was something he still struggled with from time to time, but for her, he would let down all of his walls.
"I wouldn't say I have a crush on her or anything- she kinda just scares me but she did catch my attention," Percy interrupted Luke's thoughts.
"What's her name?" Y/N asked.
"Annabeth, I think."
Y/N nodded knowingly, looking over at Luke. "Well, I guess we'll just see if anything special blooms there. Anyway, we're here!"
The sun was beginning to set over the horizon now, painting the sky in beautiful hues of purple and pink. A gentle breeze accompanied the three as they sat down by the water.
Y/N leaned against Luke's body, savoring the warmth he offered. He absent-mindedly twirled a piece of her hair.
"Three years ago, I was sitting right here, when I saw someone a few feet away from me. He was throwing rocks into the lake and disturbing my peace," Y/N began. "When I looked over to see who it was-"
"You saw the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on," Luke cut in.
"Hey!" Y/N playfulled smacked his shoulder. "I know you've heard this story one hundred times but Percy hasn't yet."
"Yeah, I haven't yet!" Percy backed her up.
The two older campers laughed. "Thank you, Percy. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, I saw this boy with curly dark hair and soft brown eyes, and I thought that's him. He's the one. This was before I was claimed by Aphrodite, but I just had a feeling, you know?"
Percy nodded, even though he wasn't sure he had experienced that feeling yet.
"But anyway, this boy looked kind of sad, so I decided to sit next to him."
"I think that's why he was throwing rocks into the water," Percy broke in.
Y/N giggled and Luke nudged her shoulder to continue.
"You're right, Percy, I had the same thought. When I sat next to him, I sensed that he was annoyed."
"Okay, love, let me finish from here." Luke softly kissed her shoulder and she buried her head in the crook of his neck.
"I wasn't annoyed-" he clarified. "At least, not at you. I had just been claimed by my father, but I was still frustrated with the whole idea of gods having children and just ignoring them. Then, this angel sat next to me and for the first time, I felt seen."
Y/N looked up at her boyfriend, her face full of nothing but admiration. No matter how many times she heard this part of the story, she still couldn't believe how she got quite so lucky.
"Percy, our parents may never redeem themselves for their wrongdoings, but I thank the gods every day they sent me Y/N." With that, Luke gently placed his hand on her cheek and leaned in to kiss her.
"Hello! As lovely as this story is, still a minor here!" Percy waved his hand in front of their faces enthusiastically, causing all three of them to burst into laughter.
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targaryenluvs · 3 months
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pairings: luke castellan x hades!daughter!reader
summary: as much as you loved luke, you were beginning to believe he’d rather keep you a secret than love you in the open.
warnings: angst babyyy, arguments, jealousy, selfishness, insecurity, manipulation, violence, fights, makeups, makeouts, tension
a/n: based on this request - you guys i’m currently reading the books bc i’ve never and i only grew up on the movies lol i will be more accurate soon i hope! i’m not the best an angst bare with me. this can also fit photograph!! hope you liked it anon!!!
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your relationship with luke was amazing.
you’d never dated anyone before, but you weren’t sure how you could ever move on from him. he was nothing short of a gentleman as well as your bestfriend. he confided in you, as you did him, you held eachother and loved eachother. the only problem was that it wasn’t open. being two of the most well-known people at the camp, luke expressed his desire to you to have something to himself, you, to himself.
and at first you didn’t mind.
you loved sneaking away with him late at night, longing stares from across the room, and stolen moments whenever available. no one found out, and he wanted to keep it that way.
of course there were moments where the two of you messed up. accidentally wearing his shirt, the longer length drawing some stares but you’d brush them off, no one exactly was going to call out the daughter of hades. where your hair didn’t exactly cover all of the marks he’d left the night before, his hands were in your hair, his clothes were in your sheets.
and the two of you were always able to keep it hidden.
until you didn’t want to anymore.
you wanted to love him in the open, show everyone just how much you loved luke castellan. you’d bring it up to him when you spent time together, the idea of letting everyone know was foreign and unnecessary in his eyes, but it was all you wanted. just to be able to show how happy you are with him and so neither of you will get asked out anymore. but his kisses on your neck and trailing hands seemed to draw you away from the thought.
you kept telling yourself you were fine with it.
but a girl can only hold on so long, you were done with it, with him. it broke your heart, even thinking of not being with him anymore but you’d rather be free and sad then unknown and happy. the two of you were sat together, stargazing in the forest, your own hide out, deep in the woods, a clearing for the two of you.
he seemed so happy, with you. the whole night he chatted away with you, holding your hand, kissing you, hugging you. you loved him so much, he was your other half, your luke. you felt as if you’d implode. your heart clenched at the idea of being away from him. you knew you couldn’t live like this, “luke?” he turned your way, still smiling, “what’s up babe?” his smile dropped at the sight of your teary eyes and trembling lips, “hey, hey what’s wrong?”
you swallowed, “i— i can’t do this anymore, i can’t be a secret. i hate having your nights and being ignored in your mornings, i hate looking at all the girls fawn over you, knowing your mine. i hate not being able to tell you how i feel during the day, not being able to walk up to you and hug or kiss you. i hate it, and i hate myself for hating it. i just want to be with you.” luke’s eyes were glistening, his hand resting on your cheek, “don’t do this, please. you agreed to this, to our relationship. please don’t ask for more, isn’t this enough? am i not enough?”
he held your hand, pressing it to his chest. you could feel his heartbeat, the rhythm you listened to most nights, lulling you to sleep. you could see the gorgeous face you adored, and listened to the heavy breathing of the man you loved. your smile ignited a flicker of hope in his heart, “no, it’s not. i don’t want to be a secret. i want to be able to tell everyone how much you mean to me, i want you to tell everyone what i mean to you. to be able to talk about our future and our life, plan out the biggest of adventures and our wildest dreams. i can’t do that with someone who’d rather love me in the dark of night than the light of day.”
and with that, luke’s heart was beating faster, a tear falling down and his relationship with you in pieces. all he could do was watch you walk away, a part of him with you. he wanted to get up and chase you, tell you how much he truly loved you, but he sat and stared.
the next few weeks were miserable for both of you. sleepless nights, missing the other, no one to stare at anymore, no one to pass love notes to, no one.
luke had the attention of the entire camp, everyone but the person he wanted.
you had the love of everyone but him.
you tried your best to hide it, the pain in your chest, the tears you’d rid your body of at night, the bracelets and necklaces you hid at the bottom of your jewellery box. trying to eradicate any memory of luke castellan from your eye and life.
whereas luke found himself seeking you out. the horrible drawing youd made of him, the beaded bracelet with your nickname for him on it, the chapstick you left behind and your favourite shirt of his. it still smelled like your own perfume. his favourite photograph of the two of you, a polaroid, you kissing his cheek, with both of your matching necklaces on display.
luke seemed fine to everyone else, of course he did. why would he be any different? whereas you were less chatty, energy drained, and happiness gone. no one seemed to ask, too scared of the reply.
three months, without him.
it still hurt, seeing him. but day after day, it tended to get easier to get up. your friends were your saviours, and strength. they could infer the reason behind your sadness, but they didn’t push you. everyday became a routine, get up, get ready, eat, get through the day and relax at night. you thought you were doing better, until you saw him. happy and uncaring.
and all of a sudden you were back where you started. you were so tired of feeling unwanted, always getting frustrated when you cried, you were crying over someone who couldn’t care less.
so when one of the hermes boys approached you with a smile and a drink offering at a secret party in the woods, you were more than willing to take it. he was nice, and funny, and into you. whilst you laughed away with him, occasionally drinking and eating, luke was across the campfire from you, grip tightening on his cup. all the voices around him were muffled, he couldn’t care about their conversations when the girl he loved was right there.
it was one thing for someone to approach you but from his own cabin? it felt as if the guy was trying to piss him off, and he couldn’t stand for that. luke was trying his hardest to hold himself back, but then the guys hand was on your waist and the cup in his hand was crushed within an inch of its life.
suddenly, luke appeared out of nowhere, his eyes burning with jealousy. unable to control his emotions, he confronted the guy. “what the hell do you think you’re doing?” luke sneered as the boy, derek, looked at him confused, “what’re you talking about luke?” luke scoffed, his patience was wearing thin, and the stupid look on derek’s face looked so punchable, so that’s what he did.
the situation escalated quickly, and before you knew it, a full-blown fight broke out between luke and the derek. as chaos erupted around you, you began to realize the depth of luke's feelings. you knew him better than anyone around, you saw the pain in his eyes, hiding behind the rage. luke wasn’t overtly violent in his daily life, let alone starting a fight, all for you.
derek was holding on for sure, a few hits in but again, no one was really a match for luke. the crowd around you had grown, chanting and cheering mixed in with laughter. “luke! luke let him go.” you shouted at him, but it wasn’t really any use, you implored his cabin mates to pull him away, and after a few seconds of contemplating they agreed. derek scrambled away, running with a few friends, whether to chiron or the cabins, as long as it wasn’t near you, luke was happy.
you stormed over to luke, clutching him by his shirt, “let’s. talk.” a plethora of ‘ooh’s’ rung out as luke shrugged off all the hands holding him back.
you’d found a quiet spot to talk, and with tears streaming down your faces, you talked. for the first time in three months, you held a conversation. it obviously wasn’t breezy, yelling and shouting, shoves from you, a slap or two. “you ignore me for three months, and then you beat the shit out of a guy just because he talked to me? what the hell is wrong with you? you were completely fine after we broke up, why did you do that?”
luke took a step closer, “you thought i was fine? i was anything but, every single night, all i wanted was you. you drive me insane, do you get that? not having you, not being able to hold you, to be with you.” his hand held your waist tightly, pulling you into him.
you were looking up at him, nose to nose, heaving chests and an unbelievable amount of tension in the air. “to kiss you.” he whispered, before kissing your neck. your hand tangled itself in his curls as his hand tightened around your waist, the other holding the back of your neck. the two of you ended up pushed against a tree, roaming hands and messy kisses.
“does this mean you’ll take me back?” luke whispered, forehead against yours, “are you willing to go public?”
he smiled, “for you? anything.”
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Not Just A Pillow Princess - LN
Request: hi! if your reqs are open (if not just ignore this!), could i request this with lando please? 👀 love your works !!!!!! (also if i could stay anon, that would be really cool) thanks!!!
Love this inspo, and idk if you guys are just like me or whether you get the right vibes. But this is...very much me so again, you guys are delivering on requests for fics I love writing for. I do think this is a little short but I think it covers the request (I hope).
Also tell me I'm wrong but we're all obsessed with this picture yeah?
Themes: Smut
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Y/n and Lando approach their Christmas time offer very differently. She turns into a hermit, only leaving when to see family who would otherwise start hounding her about not having visited.
Lando, on the other hand, keeps up social appearances with friends, family and just enjoying his time off. But he appreciates that y/n working a 9 to 5 and having prolonged time off, so she wants to spend it resting a recouping. Plus she doesn't completely hide away, if he asks if she will come with him to somewhere, then she'll jump at the opportunity to spend time with him.
Today he went to a football game with none other than Romeo Beckham. Y/n doesn't exactly have much interest in football so Lando didn't bug her into joining him.
However, when he comes home to find y/n pulling some banana bread out the oven, something she said she might do if she wasn't feeling like rotting in bed.
"Hello, beautiful." Lando greets as she turns around, hearing him enter.
"Hey, how was the game?" Y/n asks feeling his lips pressing to her neck.
"You don't care about the game." Lando chuckles making her smile a little since they both know he's right. "I've missed you."
"You missed me." She echoes knowing what that means, but a conversation she was having with one of her friends sparks up.
Her friend had been talking about how she managed to get injured during sex while riding the guy in his car. She's hit her head and actually got a concussion. A "sex sent me to the ER" moment where she managed to split her head open. When y/n made a comment about never having had such an experience, her friend immediately shot back with
"Baby...I'm not a pillow princess, am I?" Y/n asks turning around and making him look at her nearly wide eyes. "What? I'm not a pillow princess."
Lando is definitely deciding whether the risk of telling her that she is indeed a pillow princess is worth the possible sex strike. He actually loves that she is a pillow princess, he's a bit of a control freak so her being on top doesn't bring him the type of pleasure other guys might enjoy.
"You are a pillow princess." Lando confirms in a bold moment of confidence that it won't backfire.
"I am not a pillow princess!" Y/n gasps looking genuinely offended. "I...I am not."
Lando can't help but laugh a little since she is definitely in a bit of denial.
"How about we put that to the test?" Lando offers making her swallow thickly before she looks at him for a moment. This is definitely pushing his luck.
"Fine...but only because you look so good in that stupid suit."
Win.
Y/n takes his hand pulling him to the bedroom, yanking off his jacket which will get in the way later before pushing him down on the bed with his back pressing against the headboard, her doing it in a way that maybe does turn him on a little more than just the idea of getting to have sex.
She gets his half buttoned shirt completely undone, kissing down his body while he groans feeling her hands work at the button and fly of his trousers.
Lando is loving the attention along with the prep blow job but it still doesn't feel right. This whole thing is feeling unusual to what he's used to.
"Baby, as good as this feels you're going to have to move if you want to ride on top." Lando states almost desperate for her to be on top of him. Even if he's going to be fighting the urge to flip them over and take back every ounce of control.
She does climb up on top of him and smiles when he feels her slide down on him, he has to move his hands to her hips so he can somewhat control the pace and speed. He also wants to ease what is definitely going to tire her out quickly, and he knows that for a fact.
"See would a pillow princess be doing this?" Y/n questions already sounding breathless and if Lando wasn't feeling so amazing then he might smirk and comment back but he's letting her have her moment of superiority.
Admittedly y/n manages longer than Lando expected, but it's about 6 minutes later that she stops, shaking her head suddenly before she nearly body slams him with her upper body flopping forward.
"Jesus, Y/n." Lando laughs, jumping slightly before he gives her some time to just recover. "Are you ok?"
"I don't have the stamina for that shit."
"Are you admitting defeat?"
The silence is all the answer he needs but he doesn't move from his spot. Her face is nuzzled into his neck and she lets out a whine which he is assuming her choice of answer to his question.
"Can I get on top?"
There's a mumbled whine of a yes making him smile before he shifts slightly so he can roll them over. Her dropping down under his body once he's rolled them over, the new position letting him see her face. She's pouting.
"You know I prefer you under me right?" Lando states pulling out of her purely so he can really get out these clothes. "Let's me being in control."
He's sure she mumbles an "of course" under her breath before he's back on top of her, pushing her legs up to fold them with his hands holding her thighs to keep her in this position.
"Comfortable?" He asks purposely dragging out before he's back inside her, which he is growing impatient for but it'll pay off when she...
"Lando...stop making me wait. Please..."
Perfect.
Thrusting back inside of her, she tightens around him thanks to the more familiar angle that Lando is more than happy to make use of it to the point of her trembling, when one hand moves to cup her boob while he latches his mouth onto her nipple. Her back arches at the addition stimulation and she's pulsing around him nearly pulling him further in.
He groans before cumming himself, just holding himself off of her. Then only dropping on her so he can roll her back on top. Hugging her tightly to himself.
"So you'll be sticking it out as a pillow princess?" Lando asks making her groan.
"Yes...but if you tell anyone else I'll never forgive you." Y/n pouts as she looks up at him only to be kissed. "We both need to shower."
"That's true. And you can tell me all about your day while we do." Lando smiles while she sighs and hums nodding at him.
"I need just a bit more recovery time though."
"That's fine. I like your cuddles, especially since you're a pillow princess. You were made for keeping in bed for as long as humanly possible."
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pathologicalreid · 6 months
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Dude I love ur writing sm!! It’s literally so good and Buried Alive was amazing! If ur down for it (totally no pressure at all) I was wondering if u would eventually write a second part where Spencer helps the reader with the aftermath? Like maybe they struggle with PTSD or severe claustrophobia after that? Idk ur literally amazing enough I’m sure u have great ideas and again, it’s completely up to u, I was just wondering
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above ground | S.R.
part one part three
in which spencer helps you cope with the aftermath of your abduction, and you reciprocate
who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader
category: hurt/comfort, angst
content warnings: claustrophobia, being buried alive, nightmares/night terrors, ptsd, death, cpr, use of pet names, mentions of drugs, therapy, suffocation
word count: 2.2k
a/n: hello anon! i am absolutely always down for spencer reid hurt/comfort!! thank you so much for asking!!! i've been super overwhelmed with all of the support i've received on buried alive and i'm so so grateful for all of the kind things people have said.
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Standing in a dark room, you looked around your surroundings. There was nothing around you that told you where you were. The walls were all blank, the ground was cement, and it was too dark for you to even see the ceiling.
Hesitantly, you reached out your palm, touching the wall just for it to be met with something… damp? You pulled your hand away, and your skin came back dirty. Your stomach churned as you observed the soil that had settled in the creases of your fingerprints. “No,” you breathed, quickly moving to dig at the walls.
You felt it on your elbow next, like the dirt walls were encroaching on you. You turned around to see the dark room was just getting darker, and the walls started to deteriorate. Like an avalanche, the dirt of the walls falls to the ground, covering your feet, “No,” you cried out this time.
Digging at the walls just made your earthly prison bury you faster, so instead, you tried to climb toward the ceiling. You whimpered in defeat as you reached the previously unseen ceiling. The loose earth reached your chest, constricting your breathing. You tilted your head back in an attempt to keep the dirt out of your mouth.
Your face felt cool like a gentle breeze was being blown on it. You choked, but to your surprise, you didn’t choke on dirt.
            There were hands on you, one hand on your shoulder and another on your waist. That didn’t make sense to you, someone hauled you into a sitting position, patting your back in an attempt to help you clear your throat.
            The choking turned to coughing, which then turned to dry heaving off the edge of your bed. Very rarely did anything ever come out, but you kept a trash can there just in case. You blinked as someone reached over and turned on the lamp on your bedside table, the comforting hand remained on your back.
            Desperately, you tried to catch your breath, tilting your head back as you tried to open your airway. “You’re safe. I’m right here, angel,” Spencer whispered from behind you, he leaned his forehead between your shoulder blades and drew hearts on your back with his index finger.
            You took a deep, shuddering breath as you finally filled your lungs, visualizing the air going in and out of your body. Breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth.
            Spencer continued whispering to you, not once did he tell you that your dream wasn’t real because it was real. To you, being buried alive was very real. The suffocation was real, it had happened to you.
            Two months ago, you had been abducted and buried alive by a family, a mother and her two sons. All of whom were in jail awaiting trial. The two agents from the Omaha field office who had left you alone in the funeral home apologized profusely, you had a private meeting with the director of the FBI, and the BAU rallied behind you, it was nice, but none of it made the fear go away.
            The first nightmare came the same night you were back in Virginia, and you had screamed so loud that your neighbors called the police. Spencer handled everything, and when the officers insisted that they needed to speak to you directly, he flashed his FBI credentials, something he really wasn’t supposed to do.
            Your response was to avoid sleeping, at least at night. You stayed awake at night, reading, or watching TV with headphones on, and you slept during the day so that when you opened your eyes, you could feel the sun on your face. The problem was when you needed to go somewhere, you didn’t sleep, or when it rained, you didn’t sleep.
            The exhaustion just made your anxiety worse, and Spencer caught on to it. He sat you down on the couch and held your hands, telling you that he understood that you didn’t want to feel like you were burdening anyone with your nightmares, but he needed you to understand that you were killing yourself at the same time.
            He didn’t do it for everyone, but for you, Spencer took over the role of protector. He found you a therapist in the district that specialized in patients with PTSD and claustrophobia. It was an hour round trip, but Spencer was more than willing to take you the first few times.
            Dr. Montgomery quickly diagnosed you with PTSD and claustrophobia. You hadn’t realized that claustrophobia was something you could be clinically diagnosed with, but the doctor told you that there’s a difference between a fear of enclosed spaces and what you had. He was straightforward, which you liked, and he told you that your claustrophobia was a response to the traumatic event that you had experienced.
            A steady course of treatment that included medication and exposure therapy had slowly been giving you your life back.
            But then there was Spencer.
            Spencer had Morgan help him take the inside doors of your apartment off the hinges so air would flow, and you wouldn’t be afraid of suffocating. He left the ceiling fan in your bedroom on even as the weather cooled so the air never got stale.
            Six weeks ago, you had mentioned offhandedly that you were having a hard time sleeping in total silence, and Spencer had come home later with a white noise machine.
            When you apologized to him for needing the lights on to sleep, he responded by stringing lights around the entire apartment, telling you he read that warm light can help prepare the mind and body for sleep.
            He turned in all of his PTO, even accepting some from David Rossi, who didn’t use his anyway, so he could stay home with you while you were on mandatory medical leave. He tagged along to therapy appointments, to the neurologist, and even to the FBI physician who needed to clear your physical injuries to your ribs before you could return to the field.
            On his nightstand, there was a stack of books all about claustrophobia and loving someone with PTSD.
            Not once through this whole endeavor did you question your relationship with Spencer, he made himself perfectly clear through his actions. He wasn’t going anywhere.
            The FBI physician cleared you two weeks ago, your neurologist faxed Hotch paperwork stating you were without any deficits, and your psychiatrist told you that as long as you felt like you could avoid your triggers, you should be able to go back to work. In fact, Dr. Montgomery thought going back to work could be beneficial.
            You were supposed to go back tomorrow.
            Spencer was now sitting in front of you, and he offered you a small smile as you blinked yourself out of your nightmare-induced stupor and met his eyes, “There’s my girl,” he whispered. For a moment, you focused on his movements, smoothing your hair back with one hand and leaving the other hand resting on your waist. “I love you. You’re safe, you’re at home with me,” he reassured you.
            You narrowed your eyebrows, “It was- I was in the ground again.” Hesitantly, you looked down at your hands, they were perfectly clean, not a speck of dirt to be seen.
            “It was a night terror, angel,” he said, speaking gently to you as he reached over and pulled the strap of your tank top up and over your shoulder from where it had fallen. A night terror, not a nightmare.
            Tears dropped down your face when you closed your eyes. “I couldn’t breathe,” you whimpered. Taking a gasping breath, you looked at Spencer as you tried to draw air into your lungs, “I couldn’t breathe, Spence. I couldn’t breathe.”
            Quickly, Spencer pulled you into his lap and held you, “Shh,” he cooed. “I’ve got you, my love. I’m right here,” he murmured as you set your chin on his shoulder and cried.
            “I suffocated,” you whispered, it was a fact of your life, that you had stopped breathing for a period of time. The doctors estimated you had been down for almost ten minutes.
            His hold on you tightened, “I know,” his voice broke slightly. “I know, baby,” he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “What do you need?” He asked, watching you intently as he reached up and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away your tears.
            You blinked the last of your tears from your eyes before meeting his, “Can we go outside?” You asked him, placing your hands on both of his shoulders.
            Spencer nodded, leaning over to grab his glasses off of his nightstand before standing up and picking you up as he went.
            Instinctively, you yelped, but a laugh escaped your lips. It was a foreign feeling sometimes, but Spencer always knew how to elicit a smile from you. “Put me down,” you said, but your tone was light.
            Once your feet were touching the ground, Spencer looked at you, “I just wanted to see you smile.” He said earnestly.
            Despite yourself, the corner of your mouth quirked up, “Thank you.” You reached over to grab your phone off the charger and slide it into your pocket before you led Spencer out to your apartment’s balcony. He sat down on one of the chairs and pulled you down onto his lap.
            You let him hold you, not moving and just letting your body settle on top of his. The cool autumn air filled your lungs as Spencer held you. You let him hold you because you knew that his fear was just as valid as yours. While you were afraid of confinement because you had been confined, he was afraid of you dying because you had died.
            “I can hear you thinking, honey,” you whispered, leaning your head on his shoulder. “What’s on your mind?” You asked him, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers together.
            He sighed, “I’m worried about you,” he admitted. “I want to tell you not to go back to work yet, even though I know that logically it’s the next step for you,” Spencer said, you watched his honey-colored eyes as they studied your face. “And I know that you need it, you need to return to something dependable.”
            You move your head so you can look him in the eyes better, “But?”
            “But,” he continued, “the BAU isn’t dependable. You have this great routine that we’ve very nearly perfected and I’m so worried about you straying from it. The long hours at work could very well cause you to lose all of the progress you’ve made in the last two months,” he tells you candidly. “What happens when you need to get on an elevator, or when you need to get on the jet, and you can’t? What about when you-“ He cut himself off, swallowing thickly before he said something he couldn’t take back.
            You shifted so you were facing him, shoulder to shoulder, “What is it, Spence?”
            He took a deep breath and cupped your cheek with his hand, “The last case you worked on, you died. I pulled your dead body out of a casket. Fuck, Y/N,” his curse took you aback, he usually strayed from swearing. “I did CPR on you before Morgan took over,” he finished, voice growing hoarse.
            Your lips parted; you couldn’t answer him. You didn’t know how to answer him, but you took his hand and selected his third and index finger before pressing them to the pulse point on your wrist. In response, he sighed and leaned his forehead to yours. You watched his lips move as he silently counted the beats per minute.
            The both of you jumped when your phone went off, and dread filled your stomach when you checked your phone.
            Penelope Garcia: Local case. Round table room in thirty if you’re up for it.
            “If you ask me to stay home, I will,” you told Spencer, sweeping his curls behind his ears. “I won’t hold it against you, I’ll tell Hotch I need more time.”
            Spencer shook his head, “You know I can’t do that. I can’t make that decision for you, and I don’t want you to make the decision for me, you need to choose what you want.”
            You both went, Spencer distracted you for the entire elevator ride up to the BAU, but he was still tense. Even though he insisted he was fine, you knew him better than that.
Spencer followed you up to Hotch’s office and when you told Hotch you wanted to work but you didn’t feel ready to be in the field, your unit chief nodded and told you that you were welcome to stay in the local precinct and work on a geographical profile with Spencer.
            You watched the tension leave Spencer’s body. He tried to tell you that you didn’t need to do that, but you just rolled your eyes and dragged him to the roundtable room.
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