#posts that make you say ‘this person had to take too much philosophy and thought about law school before getting bored’

[totheblood]

true blue. (one)

pairing: modern!ellie williams x reader

summary: ellie has a new philosophy: don't fall in love and you won't get your heart broken. ellie also has a really cute new friend. ellie admires some birds in this chapter idk if thats significant

warnings: 18+ (as a general rule for this series and my blog as a whole) suggestive themes, eventual smut, drug/alcohol usage, cursing, descriptions of abusive behavior (neither ellie or reader engages in these behaviors)

a/n: i am hoping to make this a series if enough people like it and want me too... i really appreciate support and feedback through asks and replies/reblogs, it all means so much to me. also i have this whole thing planned out and i plan for it to be very messy hehe... i love drama idk

This year was going to be different.

At least that’s what Ellie told herself as she gripped the straps of her worn out backpack. All of the classes her and Cat had planned to take together this semester she had quickly transferred out of by the end of the summer, causing her to rack up an impressive list of classes on her schedule nobody wanted to take. 

“Fuck,” Ellie cursed under her breath as she rushed towards the building her literature seminar was in. “I’m going to be so late.” She was practically cursing herself for waking up so late that morning, her bed seeming much more welcoming than the professor who had 1 star on ‘rate my professors.’ She knew she had fucked up, but at this moment she didn’t really care.

As she made her way down the chestnut lined hallway, she frantically checked the door numbers on each door, cursing each time the door number didn’t align with the one she was supposed to be in. When she did find her classroom at the end of the hallway, she had to steady herself with a few deep breaths before entering. Throughout all of this, however, one thought rang clear through her mind: Fuck Cat.

Ellie never really liked to refer to herself as heartbroken, but that was the nicest way she could put the state that Cat had left her in. Ellie always knew she liked girls and while she had many crushes, and a few kisses, Cat was her first real girlfriend. She was the first person to hold Ellie’s hand in public, post lame birthday posts on Instagram, and the first person to give her an orgasm. But if she was being really honest with herself, her first orgasm belonged to her own hand.

Cat had served as a turning point in Ellie’s life and up until this point she was almost certain  that she had been in love with her. Almost. There was always this sinking feeling that whatever feelings she had for the girl was most likely orchestrated by pure hormones. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was that made her feel that way, but there always seemed to be something missing from their relationship. 

Little to Ellie’s knowledge, however, was that was just who Cat was. She made you feel like you were on top of the world, the only person in the universe who could cure her ills, and the only person who got her. She made you feel special, and at the time, that was exactly what Ellie was craving. She needed a person who looked at her like she aligned the stars, and that person was Cat.

Until it wasn’t. Quickly towards the end of the summer Cat got bored and all of the love notes Ellie had written her were quickly discarded within an hour of reading them. She continued to pull away until there was no trace of her left in Ellie’s life. To make matters worse, she broke up with Ellie over text, leaving her dazed and confused. There was nothing left for her to do except to run to Dina’s house and cry in her lap. She hated how pathetic she looked as Dina stroked her hair and shooed Jeese off with the flick of her hand. It was safe to say Ellie was completely over relationships.

Fuck Cat, she thought again, but decided that it being a thought wasn’t enough.

E: Fuck Cat.

D: yea fuck that bitch

Deciding that the text had done enough to calm her nerves, she pushed through the threshold into the classroom. She must’ve not realized how intimate of a class this was when she signed up for it because as she entered all ten of the people in the room now locked eyes with her, and the old man sitting at the front of the table threw her a disappointed look.

“Ellie Williams, I presume?” he questioned, looking at his roster in front of him.

“You do presume.” She awkwardly answered, only receiving a chuckle from a girl sitting at the far end of the table. Ellie looked up to see who it was that laughed at her poorly timed joke but just saw you trying to hide the smile on your face by pretending to write notes.

“You can sit at any open seat, I was just discussing the syllabus.” He told her, his tone sharp. 

“Okay, thanks.” Ellie mumbled under her breath, moving to sit at the open seat next to you considering you seemed like you might be the friendliest person in this room. She quickly moved to get her notebook out but internally cursed herself out for the fifth time that day because she completely forgot her pencil case in her dorm. She decided to save herself the embarrassment of asking if anyone had a pen, so she just continued to ruffle through her bag even though she knew it wasn’t there.

“You looking for something?” you leaned over to whisper to her, still causing her to jump back slightly.

“Yea, a pen?” She whispered back, laughing under her breath to pretend like she wasn’t completely embarrassed right now.

“Here.” A black pen balanced in between your fingers as you offered it to her. She sheepishly thanked you before taking it, making sure your fingers didn’t touch. 

“There will be one main assignment in this class as you can see on the syllabus.” Ellie, obviously not in her element, looked around at all the packets each person was holding. As if you could sense the nerves on her, you shoved your packet in between the both of you, pointing to the assignment the professor was discussing. 

“It is a partner based project and since there are only ten of you I hope this won’t be an issue.” He continued on. “And as you can see it is worth 60% of your grade.” Fuck this, Ellie thought to herself yet again, and fuck Cat too, she added for good measure.

The rest of the 90 minute class went as well as you could imagine, Ellie only having to stop herself from falling asleep three times. When the class was over and she began to collect her things Ellie looked over to where you were stuffing your laptop into your backpack. 

“Hey,” she managed to get out, her fingers fidgeting with her rings. “Would you want to be partners for the project?” 

You let out a breath of relief smiling both to her and yourself. “I would love that actually.” 

“Ok, good.” Ellie chuckled to herself about how nervous she was over something so small “I thought you might’ve thought I was like super unprepared or something since I was late and the pen.” Her eyes widened the pen. “Oh shit, your pen.” Ellie moved to take her backpack off and give back your pen but you abruptly stopped her by placing your hand on her forearm. Your hand right over the very spot Cat had tattooed. 

“Keep it,” you offered her a genuine smile before handing your phone over to her “and put your number in here.” 

Ellie may not have noticed it but she blushed. A part of her knew you were just being kind and you needed her number to work on the project but if this was any other setting this would be considered flirting. Ellie nervously took your phone in her hand and inserted her number and name with a little planet emoji next to it. When she handed the phone back to you she scanned your face for a reaction, smiling to herself when she saw your very own smile. 

“Ellie,” you looked back up at her “nice name.” All Ellie could do was let the tips of her ears turn red as she thanked you. When you offered her your own name and she repeated it back to you, she liked the way it felt on her tongue. She wondered what you wou- No, she wasn’t doing this again.

“I’ll text you tonight about getting started.” You informed her, now slinging your own bag over your shoulder.

“Looking forward to it.” She stated simply, her own feet planted to the floor.

“I presume you are.” You replied with a giggle before turning around and leaving Ellie feeling fuzzy.

Fuck.

The rest of Ellie’s day was uneventful to say the least. She saw a few birds eating a sandwich and thought it was cute, but besides that (and you), her day was boring. She was hoping that this year would be different, that she would be miles ahead of where she was when she met Cat, but she knew she was just worse. She wanted anything, a rebound, a distraction to pull her mind off Cat but all she could do was stare at her ceiling and try not to cry. Or that’s what she was doing until her phone buzzed from it’s place on her stomach.

Y: hey, it’s me

E: Who's me?

Y: pen dealer, duh

E: I thought dealers were supposed to be more discreet.

Y: you know a lot about dealers?

E: I’ve seen a few movies.

Y: nothing is like the movies, be fr

Y: anyways, do you want to meet up to discuss the project tomorrow? we could meet at beans?

E: Yeah, sure. 10?

Y: sounds good, bring cash

E: For? I use apple pay.

Y: for the pens… it was a joke nvm

E: Dumb joke.

The next morning Ellie had to drag herself out of bed so she wouldn’t be late to meet you. She groaned as she watched her roommate sleeping peacefully in her bed while she so desperately wished it could be her. For some reason that she couldn’t place, Ellie found herself smoothing down her hair and checking her teeth in the mirror. She even sprayed some perfume before she left, coughing as she accidentally inhaled some of the liquid. Why was she doing this again?

She saw you through the window of the coffee shop, leaned over your computer screen lost in thought. You tucked your pen between your lips and Ellie couldn’t help but feel like a freak staring at you from the other side. You looked so at peace with your hair tied up and your eyes carefully scanning the screen. Ellie wondered what it would feel like to not have a million things going through your mind at once. 

When she approached you she made a mental note of how your eyes lit up when you saw her. You had known her for a second and you had already looked at her with more adoration that Cat did towards the end of their relationship. 

“Hey, customer.” You joked, as you watched Ellie sit down across from you. 

“You don’t know how to let a joke die, do you?” She questioned jokingly, a warm feeling in both her face and her chest.

“I do not.” You said matter of factly.

The two of you discussed the project, throwing in occasional conversation and jokes when the material got too daunting. After about an hour had passed and the two of you were already feeling burnt out, Ellie suggested you take a walk around campus to “get some fresh air” and “clear your heads.” In reality, she was already growing tired of this project and just wanted to hear your voice ramble on about something other than American Literature.

It was a cool day, and the slight breeze caused both you and Ellie to squint the entire time. There was something so calm about the energy between the two of you. It wasn’t passionate or overwhelming like it was with Cat, but comforting. It was lulling Ellie into a sense of security, but she knew it couldn’t last long. 

“Where are you from?” Ellie spoke up. “Did you grow up around here?”

“Close-ish, I guess.” You answered. “I’m from a town north called Star Valley.” 

“Oh shit, you’re right by Jackson.” Ellie exclaimed. 

“Yea, you’re from Jackson?” The idea that you too lived this close and this was your first time meeting almost seemed criminal to Ellie.

“Yeah, me and my friends grew up there. I’m originally from Boston, though, I moved there with my..” You gave her time to speak, it being painfully obvious she was going to have trouble explaining the situation. “Like my dad? He’s not really my dad, he’s just Joel.” She decided to dumb down her complicated relationship with him for the sake of time. You, however, did not try to get any information out of her, or immediately try to get her to be vulnerable with her like Cat did at the beginning of the relationship. You just smiled at her and continued on with the conversation. 

Ellie liked this. She liked being able to have a conversation with a pretty girl that didn’t make her feel like she was tearing herself open just to bond with you. You two were just bonding in the simplest way people could. The sick and sinister part of her, however, was telling her to leave immediately. To avoid the trouble that another heartbreak would bring her. 

That part of her was starting to win over slowly as she remembered the promise she made to herself. She quickly excused herself and told you she would text you about meeting up again to work on the project. Her brain was telling her run, run, run, but she could tell you were still standing there staring as she walked away towards the direction of her building. 

Later that night, after a cool shower and a few hits of her pen, Ellie found herself ranting to Dina over text again.

E: I’m so fucked.

D: what???

E: I’m working with this really hot girl on a project for one of my classes and today we were walking together and it all seemed normal, like toooo normal, so I left. Like I no joke was like “Bye” mid conversation and LEFT HER THERE. What is wrong with me?

D: what happened to ‘i’m never talking to another girl again’?

E: I’m not.

D: …

E: I’M NOT.

E: IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER SHE PROBABLY THINKS I’M A FREAK FOR RUNNING AWAY TODAY

D: true

E: ?????

D: idk why you would do that so i’m not going to lie to you

D: i would think you are a freak

E: Ok, fuck you.

D: what does she look like?

E: Hot. 

D: oh yes thank you for painting such a vivid picture

D: SEND A PICTURE YOU FREAK

E: You are so mean to me.

Ellie felt the need for validation so she did what any normal person would in that situation: she went to instagram and typed in your full name. To her surprise, there you were, smiling as bright as the sun in your profile picture. Ellie suddenly felt like a kid again scanning through your photos, blushing and smiling to herself as she looked at you, losing focus of her original motive. She didn’t realize how far she had scrolled down until she was stopped by the sight of a familiar face. In a post dated over a year ago it was you kissing another girl. 

And that girl was Cat.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

[multi-fandom-things730]

Ricky Starks Saves The Day

Summary: Ricky refuses to watch his ship fall apart, and makes it his mission to get Y/N and Hook back together.

Warnings: angst, cussing, arguing, drinking, implied smut, fluff, lil bit of spice

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this imagine!!!!! All the support on my last one has been SO amazing and I cannot express how grateful I am for it!!!!🥹🥰 I love all of you so so so so much!!!!! And once again, a special shoutout to my bestie @99hook !!!!! Ilysm bestie and thank you!!!!🧡🤍 If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be posting this🥹🩷

It was never a good idea to spew words without thinking them through while you're both furious.

Because when the feelings of anger fade, you are left with nothing but sadness and immense regret.

This was something Hook learned a little too late.

All Y/N wanted was for him to spend a little more time with her, and neither of them could even remember why it escalated like it had. But it did.

And then Hook decided to blurt that he thought it might be better for them to break up.

Now both of them were miserable, and everyone could see it.

But Hook was too nervous to approach Y/N, as she had avoided him entirely since that night.

And Y/N had been avoiding him because seeing him made her so sad.

It was just a cycle of sadness, that all of their friends were sick and tired of seeing them be stuck in.

Enter Ricky Starks; who made it his mission to get them back together.

He loved both Hook and Y/N dearly, and just wanted them to be happy. He wasn't gonna sit back and watch true love go to waste.

But at that same time, Y/N had decided enough moping was enough.

And with some encouragement from her best friend Kris Statlander, she found herself considering dating again.

So when Ricky walked into catering and plopped down next to the two women, their conversation almost gave him heart palpitations.

"I'm telling you Y/N, the best way to get over a guy is to get under another" Kris smirks.

Ricky starts choking on his food, making Y/N's eyes widen and she pats his back. "Are you ok Ricky?"

"Y-Yeah" he croaks out, clearing his throat. "You know, personally, I don't really agree with that philosophy"

Kris raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah? And what would you suggest?"

"Um," Ricky falters, unsure of what to say. "I, uh… maybe some ice cream?"

"I like his idea way more" Y/N immediately says.

Ricky feels momentary relief, before Kris scoffs. "Ignore him. Look, just give it a try. Once you go out with another guy, you may realize that you don't miss him as much as you think"

Ricky cringes, as he can tell Y/N is considering it.

"But who would I even go out with?" She asks after a moment.

This makes Kris perk up. "Take your pick hon. I mean, honestly, have you seen yourself?"

"I don't know" Y/N sinks in her chair.

"Hey Y/N" She looks up when she hears her name and sees Darby Allin approaching them.

"Hey Darby, what's up?" She asks with a smile.

"Do you remember that one night you did my face paint when the makeup artist had an emergency and had to leave?" He asks nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah" Y/N answers.

"It's just.. the way you did it was really cool and I wanted to ask if you'd do it again?" He rushes out.

Y/N grins. "Of course I will!"

She sits her plate down and waves goodbye to Ricky and Kris. "I'll see you guys later"

With that, she walks off with Darby.

Ricky scoffs at the pleased look on Kris' face.

This causes Kris to raise an eyebrow. "What?"

Ricky shrugs. "Nothing"

Kris narrows her eyes at him. "Oh hell no! You wanna get her and Hook back together! That’s why you said all that stuff!"

"So what if I do?" Ricky challenges. "Her and Hook are true love! Hook made a stupid mistake, and he wants to fix it"

"Too bad" Kris immediately snaps back. "She is just getting better, and I'll be damned if I let you bring her down again"

"I ain't gonna bring her down!" Ricky defends. "I wanna reunite her with the love of her life!"

Kris scoffs. "I'll believe Hook is sorry when he starts showing it. Until then, expect me to run interference on whatever little plan you have cooked up"

Ricky leans back in his chair with a groan as Kris walks off.

It's then that Hook enters, and raises an eyebrow at the exasperated look on his friend's face. "What's wrong with you?"

Ricky glares at him. "I'm gonna punch you"

"There! All done!" Y/N grins.

Darby opens his eyes and smiles widely when he looks in the mirror. "It looks amazing! Thanks Y/N"

"My pleasure" she smiles back, leaning down to hug him from behind.

He puts his hands on top of her’s and leans back into her. "I have a question"

"Hmm?" Y/N hums.

"Would you like to go out after the show?" Darby asks.

Y/N bites her lip. "Darby.. you’re a really great guy. I just... I don’t think I’m ready to date someone else yet. I’m sorry”

"No!" Darby exclaims. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that. Not go out like a date. I meant just go out as friends”

Y/N lets out a breath, and they both laugh. "Then I'd love to”

"Yes! You're going on a date!" Kris exclaims obnoxiously loud, making Y/N quickly shush her.

But the damage was done, and Ricky overheard Kris' yells.

Ricky's eyes widen, and he scrambles over to them. "So Y/N, a date, huh?"

"No! It's not-" Y/N tries to explain, but is cut off by Kris.

"It totally is" Kris grins. "Y/N and Darby are getting drinks after the show tonight"

With that, she grabs Y/N's shoulders and guides her away, and looks back to send Ricky a triumphant smirk.

Ricky scoffs and runs off down the halls to find Hook.

He finds him sitting on a crate in the hallway, and Ricky snatches the earbuds out of Hook's ears.

Hook looks up with a glare. "What the hel-"

"No time for pleasantries!" Ricky yells. "You need to get off your ass and apologize to Y/N! I know she still has feelings for you, she's told me! And you still love her! You're just too chicken to tell her that you’re sorry, and she's about to go on a date with Darby so you have officially run out of time! You need to go get your girl and live happily ever after! I'll be damned if Kris will beat me!"

Hook stands up with a scowl on his face. "She's going on a date with that little prick?"

Ricky frantically nods and exasperatedly yells “Yes!"

"Where?" Hook demands, causing a smirk to grow on Ricky's face.

"How do you know they're here?" Hook asks as Ricky pulls into a parking spot at a busy bar.

"I asked her. You know, like talking to her" Ricky deadpans, making Hook shoot him a glare.

"Now get out of my car, and don't come back until you've professed your love to her" Ricky demands.

Hook does get out of the car, and takes a deep breath before entering the building.

Y/N and Darby were tucked away in a booth near the back, talking and laughing without a care in the world.

Hook can feel his face flush when he sees what Y/N is wearing, in both anger and attraction. He knew Kris must have picked it because she always needed to be hyped up a little to wear that damn dress. It was the definition of that little black dress every guy loves. It was a short, fitted bodycon dress, with a bustier top and ruched detail on the skirt that accentuated her curvy waist and hips.

That damn dress made her look both classy and sexy all at once, and Hook wanted to go snatch Y/N away from Darby and take her back to his hotel room and have her all to himself.

It was then that Y/N noticed Darby staring at something over her shoulder.

“What’s wrong? You got quiet” She leans in close to speak in his ear so he can hear, and places her hand on top of his.

Darby hesitates before answering. “Hook just walked in, and he’s coming over here”

Y/N’s head snaps around, and she easily spots Hook making his way through the crowd towards them.

Before she can debate between jumping up and running, or hiding under the table, he’s standing in front of them. “Hey Y/N”

“Why are you here Tyler?” Y/N asks with an annoyed expression.

“Can we talk?” Hook replies, shooting a rude look at Darby which only pisses Y/N off more.

“She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you, man. And we’re busy right now, I’m sure you can talk some other time” Darby says, a clear edge to his tone.

“I wasn’t fucking talking to you Allin” Hook snaps.

“Darby, it’s fine” Y/N cuts in, trying to prevent a fight from breaking out.

But neither one of them listened, and Y/N buries her head in her hands when Darby stands up and gets chest to chest with Hook.

She can’t hear what they’re saying to each other over the music and people, but she scrambles to get between them when Hook’s face hardens after Darby pushes him back.

“Hey! Enough!” Y/N exclaims.

But the two just continue to glare at each other over her head.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes at their childishness before reaching down to snatch up her purse and storm out of the bar.

She walks a little ways down the road, before stopping when she realizes she left her coat as a chill runs through her body.

“You left this” she hears Hook’s nervous voice behind her.

She turns, and the scowl on her face softens when she sees the sad look on his.

She takes the coat he was holding out for her. “Thank you”

“You’re welcome” He answers, shuffling back and forth on his feet.

The two of them stand in awkward silence for a moment before Hook speaks up. “Do you need a ride to the hotel?”

Y/N thinks for a second; while she is mad at Hook for coming here and ruining her fun, she’s also mad at Darby for pushing Hook.

“It won’t just be you and me” He elaborates. “Ricky’s waiting for me in the car”

“Why’d you come here Tyler?” Y/N asks after a short moment of thinking.

“I..” Hook falters, scrambling for an excuse before finally realizing he just needs to tell the truth. “Because Ricky told me you and Darby were going on a date tonight”

“So you came to crash it?!” Y/N snaps.

“Seriously Tyler?! You’re so fucking childish” Y/N rants as she starts speed walking to the parking lot, Hook following close behind. “You broke up with me, but you still think you can control who I go out with?!”

Ricky glances over when he hears yelling, and cringes when he realizes it’s Y/N.

She swings the passenger door open and plops down in the seat, before crossing her arms and leaning her body towards the window.

“Hello Ricky” she grumbles as Hook climbs in the backseat.

“I do not think I have any sort of control over you Y/N” Hook insists. “I just-“

“You just what?!” Y/N interjects, whipping around in her seat to glare back at him.

“I didn’t want you to go out with someone else! But that doesn’t mean I think I have control over you!” Hook yells back.

Ricky lets out an overly dramatic sigh as he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot.

This was totally not going to plan.

Ricky practically dives out of the car when they get to the hotel, as Y/N and Hook take their time; more concerned about arguing than getting out.

Taz, who was also just arriving at the hotel, stops short of entering when he recognizes the voices of Y/N and Tyler fighting.

He walks over to Ricky. “What the hell’s going on?”

“I heard that Y/N was going on a date with Darby, so I told Hook. Thinking back I wish I hadn’t. And then I found out where they were going and me and Hook went to crash their date so he could tell Y/N that he’s still in love with her. He went inside and the next thing I knew they came out arguing. They’ve been arguing ever since” Ricky rambles out the entire story.

Taz scoffs. “You two are idiots. In what world was crashing her date gonna do anything except piss her off?”

Ricky rubs the back of his neck. “Our world I guess?”

Then Hook gets out of the car, and he goes to open her door but she swiftly opens it herself. “I don’t need you opening my damn door Tyler! I’m more than capable of doing it myself! Just like I’m capable of deciding who I spend my fucking time with!”

“I never fucking said you weren’t!” Hook exclaims.

“Then why even go to the bar?! You still haven’t given me a straight answer!” Y/N fumes.

“Because I’m still fucking in love with you!” He finally exclaims, stopping Y/N in her tracks.

The two stand in silence for a moment, before Hook lets out a shaky breath. “I’m still so in love with you Y/N, ok?” His voice cracks, and tears well up in both of their eyes. “That’s why I went to the bar. Because the thought of you being with someone else makes me feel like someone is trying to rip my heart out of my chest. I know I fucked up that night Y/N. I was mad, and I was just spouting shit, and I caused myself to lose the most important thing in my life. And I know you’ll never fucking forgive me; I know how much I hurt you. And I fucking hate myself for it! And I know you deserve to move on, and I had no right to go there tonight. But- fuck Y/N! I don’t know how to come to terms with losing you! I can’t..”

Y/N stares at him for a moment, and Hook feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest from the anxiousness coursing through his body.

But Y/N was using that moment to attempt and find the right words to say. “It wasn’t a date..”

Hook furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “What? Ricky said..”

“He just overheard Kris” Y/N elaborates. “She’s been trying to get me to go out again. But I couldn’t do it”

“Why not?” Hook dares to ask as she takes a step towards him.

She puts her hands on his tense arms and makes eye contact before answering. “Because I’m still in love with you. And no matter what mistakes you made, I know that no one else will ever make me feel the way I do for you”

And with that, Hook sweeps her up by her waist and hugs her as tight as he can. She lets out a relieved laugh, and hugs back just as tight.

He places her back on the ground, and their lips collide in a messy, but sweet and passionate kiss.

They only pull away from each other when they hear an obnoxiously loud cheer from Ricky, and they turn to face him and Taz with amused laughter.

“Sorry guys! I didn’t mean to break up your moment. I’m just so excited!” Ricky bounces up and down, and Y/N laughs again when she notices he has his phone out recording them.

“Why were you recording us, Ricky?” She asks with a giggle, as Hook leans down to kiss her head.

“Two reasons. One, I needed footage of my ship getting back together. And two, I gotta show this to Ms.Statlander! True love prevails!” He yells with a victorious grin, before running into the hotel to find Kris.

After Ricky’s gone, Taz approaches them and places a hand on Hook’s shoulder with a delighted smile. “I'm glad you two are working this out. I missed you being around Y/N”

She smiles back. “I missed you too Taz”

With that, Taz bids them goodnight and heads up to his room.

Hook places his hand on the small of her back and guides her inside.

He places one more chaste kiss on her lips. “Now that I can kiss you again I don't ever wanna stop”

“Then don’t” Y/N quips back with a cheeky smirk.

He grins down at her when she pecks his lips once again.

“I gotta get us checked in; but after that, your cute little ass is all mine mamas” he whispers lowly in her ear, and his hand trails down to sneakily grab her ass.

“It’s always been your’s” She giggles and stays tucked into his side as they head over to get checked in.

Hook talks to the desk clerk as she pulls out her phone after it buzzes in her pocket.

She laughs when she sees a message from Ricky.

It was a selfie he took of a rather pissed off Kris, and him grinning like a kid in a candy store.

She shows Hook as they’re walking towards the elevator, and he lets out a hearty laugh. “He better stop messing with her before she knocks him out”

When the elevator door opens, they quickly slip out as Hook’s hands start to trail up and down her body.

They get to the room, but as Hook swipes the key card the two of them look up when a yell echos through the hall.

“I told you to shut up Ricky!” They hear Kris yell, followed by more yells from Ricky.

Y/N goes to walk towards the screams, but Hook snakes his arm around her waist and pulls her into the room.

“Tyler!” Y/N chides, but her protests get caught in her throat when he presses her up against the door.

Their bodies are flush against each other, and Hook immediately dips his head down to start trailing kisses along her neck. “They aren’t our problem right now mamas. All I’m concerned with is reminding you how good it feels when I make you scream my name”

#aew hook #aew hook x reader #hook x reader #hook aew x reader #hook aew #aew fanfiction #aew x reader #send hook #tyler senerchia #hook imagine

[ddarker-dreams]

Hellooooo I have been DYING to know this from you 👉👈. You know how there's a lot of tips for writing stuff? Well do you happen to have any tips for reading stuff? I want to read the books you recommend but I fear I'm just too dumb 😭 and won't understand what is going on let alone the themes and philosophies discussed. I feel like I would be insulting Dostoevsky by reading his work looool. We were never taught this stuff in schools ;O

I'm talking about critical thinking and analysis skills, media literacy, being able to picture and visualise sceneries; characters' voices/appearances etc., and just overall being able to comprehend one sentence that doesn't use the most basic active voice structure 😭 thank you if you choose to answer!!!!

SWEET ANON !!!! YOU ARE NOT DUMB !!!!

this is coming from a survivor of the american education system, so it might not be universal, but my experiences in middle/high school made me dislike reading books. no joke. i didn't see the point and thought reading the classics was a waste of time. i'm sure that's partially teenager arrogance, but from the conversations i've had with others, reading was rarely framed in a way that stoked intrigue. we're not given the tools to engage with the text so i'm rarely surprised when i see the worst takes imaginable on a piece of media i enjoy from a 14 year old.

i'm still learning myself when it comes to media literacy, it's an ongoing journey. when i read notes from underground for the first time last year i was literally so confused. i can normally read anywhere from 80k-100k words in one day if i'm motivated enough, but NFU, a novella at around 43k words, took me over a week.

i say all this to reassure you that you're not alone!

some advice that comes to mind when reading a dense work:

do some background research on the author. i know teachers hiss at wikipedia for some reason but reading a few paragraphs about the person's life, beliefs, politics, etc really helps put their writing into perspective.

look into the time period it was written. what were the pressing social issues at the time? who was in charge? what conflicts were ongoing/just ended? what was the predominant religion? books don't exist in a vacuum, a lot of the classics are filled with jabs at ideologies the author doesn't like (i'm looking at you, dante).

if the author's from a different country than you, getting a basic grasp on the culture helps a lot. with reading dostoevsky specifically, historical events like the emancipation of the serfs was an entirely new concept to my american brain.

not everything is going to make sense. sometimes the cultural/historical layers go so deep you'd need to have been alive at the time to immediately get it. fortunately, there are nerds with degrees in book who do extensive research and can give insight. i'll think i maybe understand a book okay, go to read a journal article on it, and go ??????? wat???? page 632 paragraph 3 references euclid's optics?? how was i supposed to know that.

finally, you're not going to like every book you read, even if it's well written. there's a difference between persevering and actively torturing yourself with words. if you dread picking it up again, there are other books to check out instead. there are some classics that i don't care for much (some of edgar allen poe's short stories, the fall by albert camus, no longer human by dazai osamu, to name a few).

ask yourself questions while reading. why did this character do that? is there a reoccurring motif throughout the work, and if so, why might the author be trying to highlight that? what perspective is the work from? is the protagonist lucid, are they an unreliable narrator? what themes are being explored here?

i hope some of this helps dsfhgkdjshgks there's a lot to be said on the subject but i didn't want this post to be miles long.

#answered #Anonymous

[doll-elvis]

did you like linda thompson for elvis? any insight to their relationship?

I recently got two asks about Linda so I thought I would just combine them here: warning this is long because as always I have too much to say 🤭

and thank you so much guys for the asks <3!! I really appreciate the opportunity to delve into these topics and have an open discussion, please share any thoughts or opinions y’all have, I would truly love to hear from you guys too

as for the first ask: this will probably be controversial but honestly I have mixed feelings about Linda Thompson, and it’s not so much over her relationship with Elvis that I feel conflicted about, it’s just some of the comments/posts she has made that have rubbed me the wrong way a little bit🤧

To start though I want to say I by no means hate Linda, Elvis loved her and there’s no questions I have for why he did- I think she is a really caring and nurturing person at heart. So if Elvis loved her, then I wish the best for her, and I try to live by this philosophy for everyone he loved… even if they do things I don’t like or don’t agree with

Also her book is one of my favorites out of all the girlfriends and it is genuinely beautiful (although I do wish the whole book was just about Elvis because I could not care less about Caitlyn Jenner lmaoo). You can feel the love and respect she has for him, and I will always admire how candidly she talks about Elvis whilst also being understanding of him and his complexities. Obviously Elvis was not a perfect human, but Linda writes in a way that really conveys her compassion/love towards of him even during the times when he was being quite frankly, an asshole 💀

I truly respect her for taking care of him the best she could, and still defending him to this day. I was honestly always relieved whenever the camera was on her in that Amazon prime documentary “Elvis’ Women” because she often set the record straight and didn’t allow for any sensationalized stories to be told about him

And one of my absolute favorite quotes about Elvis comes from her book and it’s when she said, “There is black and there is white, and then there is Elvis Presley”

As for some of the comments she has made (mainly on her Instagram), I cannot help but get the vibe that she is a touch narcissistic or as some of the Memphis mafia have said, “has a beauty queen personality”😖

Obviously I’m no psychologist but if y’all follow her on Instagram you might know what I mean. A couple months ago she shared a Instagram story that had a quote from David Stanley saying something along the lines of “Linda was the most beautiful girl Elvis was with and the best for him”

Now there’s absolutely nothing wrong with holding that opinion, she is incredibly beautiful and she cared deeply for Elvis, but I feel like sharing that quote had no purpose but to boost her ego. And David Stanley can choke for all I care, especially because some of the headlines he has been making lately

Linda also has a tendency to diminish the relationships Elvis had with other women, particularly with Sheila Ryan and Ann Pennington

(quote from Shirley Dieu about Linda finding out about Sheila Ryan ⬆️)

Linda was very young and in love at the time and rightfully angry about being cheated on. But at the same time I don’t think that justifies calling another woman a hooker, and that definitely doesn’t make it okay to tell everybody in the group that she was getting paid to be with Elvis, especially when it’s known that Sheila was the one girlfriend who demanded nothing out of him ⬇️ (y’all know I love Sheila I’m serious about defending her lmaoo)

She also recently made a post on Instagram where she shared some photos of her and Elvis and said this in the caption ⬇️

Am I too sensitive or does this rub y’all the wrong way too?? I wouldn’t call Sheila Ryan or Ann Pennington just “friends”. This may have not been Linda’s intentions but I find it disrespectful to reduce their relationship with Elvis to that, especially when Elvis cared so much about them

Even in the Amazon prime documentary “Elvis’ Women” she referred to Sheila and Ann as “dalliances” and also said the only women with any “holding power” in Elvis’ life was herself, Anita and Priscilla. But to name a few, Elvis almost married Dixie Locke before he got famous, he bought Graceland and intended to live there with June Juanico, he seriously considered marrying Ann Margret, he wanted Joyce Bova to live at Graceland (same with Sheila Ryan) and he literally proposed to Ginger Alden

Again, I might just be sensitive but that “holding power” comment totally rubbed me the wrong way. I have the feeling this is how she fuels her self-importance … by minimizing Elvis’ relationships with other women 🤧

as for the second ask: I think what caused the decline of her relationship with Elvis was that as she matured and grew up within the 4 1/2 years they dated, her priorities changed, and they no longer fitted to what Elvis wanted

Linda was pushing for marriage and by doing so Elvis was feeling pressured, and just from what I have read about him, that man didn’t want to be pressured by anybody

I honestly don’t believe Elvis ever intended to get married after his divorce with Priscilla, and despite proposing to Ginger, like many others, I don’t believe he would have taken the step to the actual altar. So by being very open about his affairs and wanting to be photographed with Diana Goodman and introducing women like Sheila Ryan at concerts as his girlfriend, perhaps that was his way of letting Linda know he didn’t “belong” to her and wasn’t planning on getting married🤧

(excerpt from “Elvis: What happened?” ⬇️)

This excerpt is from Albert Goldman’s “Elvis” so definitely take it with a grain of salt but I think it’s very interesting as it describes the course of his relationship with Linda ⬇️

In Linda Thompson’s book “A Little Thing called Life” she talks very openly about how their relationship essentially became “sexless”, and how she graduated to the role of caretaker as opposed to romantic partner. And according to Diana Goodman, Linda even acted as a third wheel when Elvis went on dates with Diana, and so I think by that point in the relationship Linda didn’t feel as threatened by other women because she knew her role in Elvis’ life: caretaker

This is just my opinion but I think Elvis stayed with Linda Thompson so long purely out of convenience. She was a woman who knew what he liked (movies, food, music etc. etc), she knew how to take care of him, and she had integrated herself into the group very successfully and got along with the people in his life, especially Lisa Marie. I have seen Elvis being quoted saying “I don’t want to teach another one” a few times, meaning he didn’t want to have to teach another woman how he lived, and how he liked things, he was simply comfortable with Linda because she knew him

But I think Elvis likely felt a little suffocated by her constant presence, which seemed to be the case with most women who he was with for long periods of time, and I believe that’s when he began pursuing women like Sheila Ryan, Ann Pennington and Diana Goodman. I also believe this is why he bought Linda an apartment out in California and a house in Memphis despite her living at Graceland: he was slowly trying to inch her out of the picture so he could do whatever he wanted with whatever woman he wanted. I forget what Memphis Mafia member said it but I remember a quote that said something like While Linda was out shopping in California, Elvis got with other women, that’s why he encouraged her spending

(excerpt from Linda’s book where she confronted Elvis after he began having affairs after the first year they were together ⬇️)

“once in a while I just need a little different stimulation, different company”

As for Elvis saying he could never picture himself marrying Linda, Ginger Alden’s book gives great insight ⬇️

Elvis could be very old fashioned about things so this definitely seems like a plausible explanation as to why he could never picture himself marrying Linda, she was likely too headstrong about it and it turned him off from the idea. As for flirting with the idea about having children with Linda, Elvis was very “obsessed” with the idea of having a son, and when he began dating Ginger Alden he also told her about him wanting her to have his son, and name him John Baron. So I don’t think his ideas of having more children was because of Linda or Ginger specifically, I believe he just wanted a son, and would likely tell whatever woman that he was intending to be with for a long time, his idea

if y’all have made it this far, thank you for reading <3!! I’m always open to discussion and just remember most of this is just my personal opinions so don’t take anything as the cold truth until you have done research and decided for yourself. I’m curious to read what y’all think about everything 👀

#thank you for the asks!! #this one is a doozy #linda Thompson #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis history #elvis photos #elvis fans #elvis book excerpts #elvis asks

[twig-tea]

Love in the Big City Part 2: Emotional Distance

One of @bengiyo's great discussion questions for this section was about effective distance, and I thought this was so interesting because Young's narrative style seems to already be doing that for us. Besides the clearly distancing tactic of not giving Hyung a name, Young's unreliable narration around his own emotions that I talked about in my post for Part 1 seems to be holding true for this second Part--Young is dissociated from a lot what he's feeling and barely describes it to us; often he doesn't even name it, and he mentions that he often doesn't understand what he's feeling. I could not get over the fact that Young says outright that in order to better understand his own emotional reactions he enrolled in a Philosophy of Emotions course.

PHILOSOPHY! OF! EMOTIONS!

The most intellectualizing, distancing course you could take to help you 'understand' without actually experiencing any emotion. And so when he meets Hyung in this course, he recognizes something in Hyung. Like @wen-kexing-apologist mentioned, Young sees himself in Hyung and that seems to be (at least the initial) attraction.

@hyeoni-comb wrote here about how Young and Hyung were using one another in their loneliness, that Young's relationship with Hyung was reminiscent of his relationship with his mother in that none of these characters were comfortable being vulnerable with one other. @my-rose-tinted-glasses also mentioned Young's contempt for these two characters; it struck me reading these posts how both Hyung and Young's mother were a part of something that excluded/judged Young for who he was, and that resulted in real or imagined surveillance of them that caused them to hide truths about themselves in public in order to not lose their statuses in their groups, which Young judged them for. Young is already so much an outsider that he judges anyone for their in-group behaviours, even though he then does the same thing with Hyung and his own mother. The traits in other people that upset us the most tend to be ones we refuse to see in ourselves.

At the same time I sympathize strongly with the hurt that Young experienced at the hands of these characters. One of the shittiest feelings is having sex with someone who is ashamed of wanting to have sex with you, and knowing that whatever your feeling is doomed because the other person can't let themselves feel it back. When Young found those browser windows my heart plummeted for him. It must have felt like such a betrayal, in the way that his mother hospitalizing him must have felt like a similar betrayal. Both of those moments were a realization that these people he loved thought there was something fundamentally 'wrong' with him (and in the case of Hyung, with himself too).

But I think what my biggest takeaway was with regard to the way this section was written was how it highlighted the loneliness of Young, picking up from something @bengiyo pointed out in his Part 1 post. @profiterole-reads pointed out how Jaehee's absence in this part stood out to them. What stood out to me in her absence was how alone Young was with his mother's illness. In the flashbacks to five years ago, his relationship with Hyung was in the dark, in the evenings, stolen time outside of hospital visiting hours, outside daylight. It seemed clear, to me, that this thing they had in common--a mother hospitalized and ashamed of the reason why--was something that connected them but also not something they shared with one another in a meaningful way. But five years later the situation is even worse; Young's mother is back in hospital, but he doesn't even have the break/distraction that Hyung had provided. And both times he clearly doesn't have Jaehee either. She's recently married, so it makes some sense she would not be readily available necessarily, but we don't find out if Young ever even just complained about having to go to the hospital to her. It makes sense that since Jaehee was absent from his life during this period five years ago that he wouldn't be thinking about or remembering her this second time either, since the repetition is clearly causing him to reminisce. And I couldn't help thinking, what would this part of his life had been like if Jaehee were still actively in it? It sounded like the stories he was writing were the kind he used to tell Jaehee about either when he got home or in the morning after--Would he have gotten as into writing if he had still had that outlet in his life?

I had to wonder, too, if Hyung sent him the manuscript because his mother also was still/once again in hospital. Were they both experiencing this repeat experience of five years ago at the same time?

#litbc book club #love in the big city #typed so that i can stop thinking it

[floareadeaur]

• Series: Owari no Seraph/Seraph of the End

• Pairing: Ferid Bàthory x female!reader

• Some feverish philosophy of 3.2 k words!

• Author's words:

I wrote this paper 2 years ago.

Now, knowing the true philosophy and creation of the OnS world, I feel I would write it differently.

I now believe that Ferid is not a "dead man" struggling to live because of vampirism, but that he is a living man struggling to live in a cursed and putrid world ― despite reincarnation, despite vampirism. I consider him psychologically unaffected by vampirism, and this interpretation would add a much more vivid and tense dimension to the writings about him.

In addition, I can dive much deeper into the deep exploration of his personality now, beyond the masks like red ruby ​​earrings that adorn a wounded soul with no passion to live, a soul that was raised in the shadow of a leader ― this, when the rubies, ironically, symbolizes the passion and power of a leader.

I think I had write him much more organically now, and especially, I am already writing him in a full dynamic with my original character, with the focus being on his deep drama relative to the OnS universe.

It is fascinating to think about Ferid now, it was still fascinating when I wrote this.

I will post new writings about him. I feel that these new writings breathe better the life out of me and the life out of Ferid.

This old writing breathed too at the time I wrote it. Maybe it still does. What do you say?

Even though it is an old post, kind feedback is welcome. You know, a word in response feeds a writer's soul.

Some people have asked me to repost from the old writings, so enjoy!

And I wish a good day to whoever finds this post!

❝ Warm memories in cold palms ❞

Along his cold, pale palms, through every fiber and vein exposed through the thin, ghostly skin, vibrates a memory.

Ferid Bathory feels that tingle at the tip of his senses, as if something is being restrained and shackled inside the gloves that clothe his bony hands. Maybe that is why his arms twitch for a moment, as if uncontrollably in gesticulation.

As the great vampire lord strides along the dimly lit halls, his coat rustles ― a familiar sound, as does the cadenced rhythm of footsteps gnawing at the marble floor ― interrupting the image of the young dead-but-alive man, which is reflected on its glossy surface.

Ferid does not look at the reflection. His gait is uninterrupted, but not smooth, undisturbed. Something tumultuous is struggling in his posture,  features. Even the way his ruby ​​earrings sway and sparkle in the dim light bears a trace of this chaos  ― the jewels move at the edge of his pointed ears just like the tiny eddies of a restless storm.

But there is silence. Ferid Bathory does not speak, does not smile, but his eyes are not empty. 

On the contrary, on the face of the dead young man, under the gray eyebrows trapped in an expression without curved lines, something glimmers in Ferid's often empty eyes and caught in an unsatisfying, unanswered search. The red irises are still wandering, twitching uncontrollably, or staring too hard at a point that does not even dictate the next step the vampire needs to take.

But their search no longer seems unanswered, barren and dry.

Vampires can not cry. But in their own way, Lord Bathory's eyes, often sharp and full of acidity, seem moist in those moments, or just alive, as if there really is something still dripping from them ―  thoughts, tears, or answers.

But those eyes seem fixed somewhere far away, and yet, not without a certain contentment. The research of Ferid's mind is done for the first time with joy. 

It is precisely this happiness, ecstasy, that creates his tremor. His body would like to touch the thoughts that satisfy him, which give Ferid the answer and awaken his curiosity, that make the vampire look around and know, "There is a meaning."

Lord Bathory's steps flow along the hall with the same classic sting. The hand gestures are there, those strange pulses of long, gloved fingers that hang down his body. Ferid's hands seem to be gesticulating without a direction, as if in a sick tremor, or of happiness. His well-shaped wrists, caught between the frills of the shirt, make a sudden arch. As he walks, his long fingers bend. It seems that Ferid Bàthory's hands would like to grab something.

And all the movement of his hands in the end symbolizes Ferid's desire to be with the reality of the thought that makes him happy.

The man's gaze slowly drifted away. Beneath his gray lashes, Ferid's eyes are flooded with a certain warmth that does not necessarily have anything to do with the marble slabs he may be looking at.

Ferid Bàthory then looks inside himself and for the first time, he is not horrified by what he finds. The corners of his lips pull up slightly in a faint smile ― one of the few real ones for him. 

The cadence of his steps has stopped and Ferid's right hand is clenching. His whole body seems to have tensed under the white robes embroidered in jewels and gold.

It seems that the great Ferid Bàthory is no longer there. The body exists, but he lives elsewhere, with what he wishes he could hold in his gloved palm.

His eyes are deep set and they are actually looking at you. Then they close ― one of the only times Ferid closes his eyes. The smile still exists, the warmth descends in the soul.

When he is near you, his eyes hardly ever close. It is Ferid Bathory's favorite activity ― observing his beloved woman. This requires open eyes connected to a soul. But when he is far away, then Ferid feels this desire to close them more often.

Inside him, Ferid seems to find you better.

The dead body no longer demands breaths, but vampire's lips part, still caught in the light, serene smile. His face resembles that of a man who is still searching and close to what he wants the most. Ferid's palm tightens, then opens. So are his eyes, which then look at the palm. It is bare then, exposed, with all its thin lines traced in the paper-like skin.

The vampire pulled off his gauntlet as if on instinct and now Ferid's red eyes looked at the outline of the visible skin.

His fingers move for a moment, long and sharply defined, with clear, rough nails. But Ferid's eyes do not just see his own dead, immobile hand.

His head bends more. Some of the gray strands slide down the pale cheek to the corner of the sharp lips, which are then lifted in a soft smile. Ferid Bathory sees the outline of your body imprinted in the lines of his palms. His eyes slide along the well-defined fingers from each other, meticulously penciled. The other hand's glove also disappears. Ferid pulled it in a light movement and the shaking of the two hands, that strange tremor, can be more clearly visible,  explainable.

Along every line in his pale palms, he even now sees and feels the outline of your being.

From the wrist now freed from the frills he folded over the cuff, to the tips of the fingers with brittle nails, the same vibrations are sensed. Ferid smiles more, his eyes narrow ― but not out of bitter amusement, or despair.

A line of happiness outlines his features for a moment, for on the surface of Ferid's entire palms, only the memory of your being dances in his senses. The warmth, the edges, the curves and all your woman details, the smell, the texture, the little abrasions ― Ferid has memorized them all. And it is not just maddened curiosity that is at the center ― that often goes away first. Nor the interest in anything else that could break his boredom. 

But for Ferid Bathory, these memories obtained from careful observations are like his food.

The blood has always fed Ferid only to torment him more ― like a curse, a condemnation. But when Ferid is far from you, he can feed on something that does not leave his tongue bitter and as if skinned with thirst, but actually nourishes his being. The soul also needs food, and your memory is the one for Ferid. The sensation is strange, but pleasant to him. Ferid would not want to leave it anymore. 

Beyond the fact that the vampire finally knows something he believes in, a new set of feelings are playing with the dead him, creeping in and gradually ruling the man, ever since Ferid met you and took a new risk, a condition unknown to Bathory.

The first was the feeling of being in love, of loving, which translated strangely to someone like him ― unusual, but so needy for all that would mean, and yet so clearly, almost rationally, aware of the nature of his feelings. Their sheer existence was strongly internalized from the first moment.

And maybe then, that internalization started to externalize, beyond the clear assumption that Ferid loves you.

A sensation of this kind tried him recently, away from you and now on his way home  ― right there, right in his then empty palm.

Along the corridor, his steps begin to echo again with the heel of the boots announcing his internal rhythm, of the thoughts that pinch his mind in the rhythm in which Ferid's boots pinches the floor. His eyes seem to be spinning around, but it is an illusion. For it is only their living light that shines as the vampire wanders again with a memory and realization, the first with an answer and the other sweet then.

His right hand clenches again, cold and lonely but warm. So is the left one, so is his whole body.

Ferid stopped again and lowered his sharp gaze, which then seemed for a moment lost, or more rediscovered than ever.

A candle burns in front of the door where the the man stopped; it is one placed in the candlestick. 

Ferid always appreciates these genuine, tangible things ― just like he appreciates you.

Maybe appreciation is too little to define your case though for him.

The man's gaze is again fixed on the pale palms then illuminated by the candle flame and Ferid does not see his own palms, but in front of his eyes, always sharp, but then dreamy, under the light of the fire, your body dances.

It is warm, it is alive, he can feel your breaths through the soft skin, your ribs rise slowly with every breath and your heart beats under your left breast. You smile at him, knead, your hand touches his, velvety in the warmth of your life. You touch your lover gently.

But his hand clenches in reality and is empty. Ferid Bathory is alone in the dark hallway lit only by the candlestick.

And yet, the gaze of the rational merges with that of the dreamer ― as if for once thought and deed form a common body in the paradoxical Ferid Bathory.

A sigh escapes the thin lips. Ferid's gaze slowly rises and the last sweet realization appears as clearly as his own palm reflected in the light of the wax candle.

Since he met and loves you, since his palms met you, those same palms can no longer do what was specific to them before.

Maybe Ferid got too used to caressing you. Perhaps this is precisely what Ferid Bathory's hands were always made for ― to touch the woman he loves, to memorize and feel her.

Perhaps the blood and life taken by these hands, drained between these fingers, can no longer have their place. However, they always brought a false benefit, a hazard of boredom and that is it, another pit to despair.

Ferid's gaze rises again and his red eyes are reflected by the flame of the candle in the candlestick ― a glimmer dances there, ever searching, but in a circle where the light can shine ― the certainty of finding an answer, the faith.

Now Ferid Bathory believes and the memory can come to life. It is actually necessary.  Memory itself has come to rule his reality differently, but more is needed.

In the darkness of the hall, the man's arm stretches out, his bare hand and his shirt cuff folded over his wrist. Before the long fingers touch the doorknob, Ferid feels the memory of your body, of your being again ― the reality of the beloved woman which Ferid Bathory memorized to perception, like a believer's creed.

But the mere memory is not enough and his hand trembles on the doorknob.

Once the door has opened, his eyes are fixed, injected with desire. Ferid is now looking in reality. Not the wide room is the answer, not some piece of furniture, a work of art inside.

His hands no longer shake with those restless twitches for a moment. The eddies seem to have moved into its surroundings.

But as if called, the man approaches. The same steps echo, but much more determined, or needy to reach the goal, the destination.

Then Ferid's palms rest on the embroidered edge of the couch. The fingers that have trembled sink in, searching for stability. His body slowly bends with his head. The man's eyes look a moment too fixed, frozen, but another emotion touches Ferid's sharp features.

A moment and his dead body seems to breathe again. His shoulders hunch more, trapped in their elegant uniform, they even seem humble. Ferid gives himself then, but he also received.

Serenity floats on his face those moments ― not a smile, but peace. His lips are parted, his eyes eternally sharp, wide and slowly melting ― wet, warm.

It seems that Ferid Bathory wants to say something, but he does not know what when he looks at your sleeping figure on the sofa.

He can only realize that, just as his hands that were given to you by touch, can no longer initiate a killing, your memory can no longer be severed from reality.

Still leaning over you, a few gray locks dangling near your sleeping face, Ferid's arm slowly reaches out. It seems that he is afraid, or it is just a touch of that, where you do not know how to caress more carefully what you value. But Ferid knows, or you teach him, by the very breath of life you give your lover again.

The vampire's cold palm rests on your left breast tight in the thin dress, but you do not wake up. Ferid's touch is too meticulous and he can feel your heartbeat so well, which is exactly the answer to the vibrations that tormented his empty hands when he lacked this touch.  Now these vibrations flow into pleasant sensations down his spine. Ferid shuddered and a tremor vaguely gripped him.

The vampire continues to look at you and his eye is serene, just as your cheek shines innocently in the peace of your sleep. His other hand touches your cheek which he admired. Ferid's well-shaped fingers lightly brush the skin of your face as if they were touching the thin edge of a fresh clay pot that could break at any time. 

His body leaned more over you. The tips of Ferid's gray locks have slipped and are now nibbling your sleeping body with small touches between your even breaths as the vampire's eyes fixate on you. Ferid's mouth still remained slightly ajar, as if waiting for a breath that never came. Or your lover does not know what to say, he just stares at you.

Beneath the gray lashes, his eyes glow warm, deep ― their madness gone and faith found its creed, symbol.

As his cold fingers touch you once more and your body writhes, Ferid leans into you with necessity.

It is not just the thrill that ran through his dead body, Ferid's desire to be between your tender thighs under your dress, to feel your warmth and heartbeat, what makes the vampire kiss you ― with just as light a touch as if he were touching the wings of a butterfly with the tip of a blade.

Ferid knows how easily he could hurt you. He himself is a blade, one made so by many others before ―  but a blade can spread butter on a cake, polish a sculpture, not just cut and destroy.

For a moment, Ferid's cold lips hover over your warm mouth. Your living breaths seep into his dead being and Ferid notices your sleeping and living being again, so peaceful yet his cold hands keep touching you again.

His eyes close serenely. Another kiss comes from him. Strands of gray hair slide past his sharp cheek and gently caress the soft skin of your temples, sliding down to the warm shoulders revealed by your sheer dress.

Ferid sighs softly, but it is more like a vain attempt to breathe. His gray brows furrow above the closed eyes, the trembling of his palms that gripped your warm shoulders barely subsided. You are still asleep and Ferid is frozen like this, leaning over you at the edge of the couch. His cold palm caresses you slowly and in your sweet sleep you feel the familiar touch like the fine curtain of an old and fragile paper.  The sensation tickles you with pleasure in your dream. In the silent of the room, your voice murmurs something indistinct, but for Ferid this is life.

And he, the one who always discharges acidity without meaning, can say nothing but accept that sweet realization. His cold hands can no longer touch anything without life once they have memorized yours in their fine lines. And Ferid can not think that it is possible for his hand to be only left with the memory and not be able to caress your real warmth as he touches it then.

The man moves away from your face with cold moist lips and looks at you again, confusion hanging from his tight gray lashes and those pale, parted lips.

A harsher breath of yours and you meet the red eyes, warmed with a light foreign to others, but well-known to you. That specific sensation tickles you more with pleasure at the moment of awakening. Then you realize through your sweet senses that Ferid is touching you and a smile vaguely appears on your lively face.

Just for a moment you are confused, or even the vampire is more than you, thus bent over your figure, staring and with the cold hands on the warmth of your body.

You say nothing, but your arms slowly stretch out, your dress rustling in a way that reminds Ferid of a living forest. You wrap them around his neck, feeling the locks of his hair, pull him so close, until the man almost slides over the edge of the sofa.

But Ferid is Ferid. 

He rests on his knees, on the same cold palms with agility, but no joke about your so great desire for him comes up, no teasing. Ferid wants you more or it is just something mutual.

He is on top of you, his cape hanging, his hair undone, and when you pull him to kiss your man that you have not seen in a while, Ferid understands better the feeling that keeps overwhelming him.

Warmth, heartbeats, breaths, touches ― as your warm tongue moistens his fangs in a harmless kiss, he understands. With his eyes closed, Ferid Bathory finally understands this new meaning imprinting on his whole being ― from the nimble gaze, to the hearing and the palms that close around you to feel the woman he loves ― all are given to you.

And that is the point, Ferid thinks, once your warmth overwhelms him again, into another embrace where you pull him onto that small sofa, into that dark room, the surroundings of which are as confusing to the vampire as a vortex.

You are the only one of whom Ferid is truly aware ―  and it is precisely the fact that he could not bear not to be able to meet all of this again. That is this new meaning.

His senses, after centuries devoted to bitterness, have discovered a warm, meaningful life that Ferid now gives anything to embrace ― to feel you.

This is the new meaning of things in Ferid Bathory's mind ― the search full of answers and happiness. And oh, how quickly it too could die out if Ferid could no longer touch your living being, if his beloved woman would remain only impregnated on the edges of the senses, in memory.

But then your warm mouth kisses him. No words are murmured, but the tide carries you both. 

Ferid's palms squeeze you to his chest, he hugs you so needy.

The vampire can feel you one more time and you already receive him in a dreamlike reality.

#ferid bathory #owari no seraph #seraph of the end #ons #sote #ferid bathory x reader #owari no seraph x reader #seraph of the end x reader #ferid bathory headcanons

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

Hey 18-20 year olds? You’ve only just started the hardest part of growing up: learning how the hell to do that and how to be an adult. And yeah, I’m in the same boat, here’s some things that have helped me so far

- a friend who is older than you

My best friend is 7 years older than me, and he’s been able to give me so much advice on personal philosophy, how to work on personal issues, etc.

- a friend who holds you accountable/is very honest with you

having a friend who will take you aside and tell you “x thing you’re doing is actually making y hard/unfun/stressful/etc.” is more valuable than yes men friends. These are the friends who will question life decisions if they seem to make you unhappy, in the pursuit of making sure you’re exactly where you need to be.

- learning how to make accountable apologies

Here’s how I structure my apologies now, and I’ve had not only good reactions and conversations afterwards, but I’ve had to use them in various ways. “I’m sorry about x. Y was happening, and instead of doing x thing I should have done z thing. Again, I’m sorry.” It not only has removed the loathed “but”, but it also allows for explanation and a plan on how to avoid it. I will also sometimes add “I’ll try my best to do z thing” if I know I’m going to need some time to fully erase the mistake if it was a habit, but in general that helps a lot.

- start trying to find who is a small dose person and who’s a large dose person

What is a small dose person? For example: I know someone who I can only be around for maybe an hour when with other people before I become irritated by their presence. Is it their fault I’m irritated by them? No, and they’ll never know I am. Because I’m only around them for around an hour once every few months. That’s small dose. It’s the “you’re not a bad person I just cannot be around you for long periods of time”.

- if things you read on social media/the internet make you emotional, restructure how you spend your time

Here’s a really hot take. For those who were tuned in for the dungeons and dragons drama, I’m about to tell you guys something crazy. The draft that was leaked was actually incredibly lenient (I can’t remember what it was called haha). How do I know this? I could tell I was getting a little heated and sent it to a friend who knows way more about that sort of stuff and asked for his opinion, and he told me about other examples of it that were more harsh but not lambasted. If you read a headline or a post or tweet and get up in arms, take a step back and take a breath. You don’t have the time to get emotional about every little thing, you’re too busy growing up.

- make friends or acquaintances who don’t believe the same thing as you

My best friend is a centrist who leans more right than left. I am more left leaning than he is by a good amount. We both have very enlightening conversations because of that. Here’s the funny thing, I do hold some right leaning beliefs anyways because that better supports the area I live in. I don’t want the government grabbing the land around me because they’ve proven to be incompetent. I’m fine with looser gun control because there have been times where mountain lions just. Appear in my city. We have an overpopulation of wolves right now. A few other ones I don’t feel like sharing. My friend has changed how he views certain issues and so I have I because we talk about what we disagree about. If they respect you, they’ll debate but not argue

- not everything is about you

Building off that last point, not every counterpoint is an attack on you. It can feel like it, because you’re still expanding the telescope you see out of into two working eyes (I’m still getting there too), so being able to say to yourself that this is either a) bigger than you or b) not about you at all can help you get through more conversations more levelheaded

- you’re in puberty

Final thing: your body is still a hormonal war zone. Emotions are heightened, thought processes are everywhere, you are still growing up. Give yourself time. And grace. And kindness.

[positivelybeastly]

As much as I'm glad Hank back to being a good guy, personally I'm still not thrilled with the decision. For one it just reads as damage control over Hank's characterization over the years, two it comes at the cost of a decent chunk of his history, and three ig feels to little too late. And it probably wouldn't have come to this if they had an actually good writer on x-force.

"I'm - not quite certain I am a good guy, now. I had always thought that a certainty, that no matter where I was, no matter what I was asked to do, that I would eventually make the right decision. But now? Now I'm, not so sure."

I mean, I've not been thrilled with almost any choice wrt Hank's characterisation and story for the past 10-11 years, so when this possibility popped up, I was like, yeah, that's about the worst way to damage control it. In the end, I'm going to accept it because at least this way I don't have to go into the X-Men Reddit and see people screaming about how Beast is the worst anymore, or panels posted of the latest X-Force travesty, but it's not how I would have done it.

I especially sympathise with the loss of so much history. He loses X-Factor, he loses 90s X-Men, he loses X-Treme X-Men, he loses New X-Men, he loses Astonishing X-Men, he loses S.W.O.R.D, he loses Uncanny Avengers, etc, etc. Yeah, we cut loose all the necrotic garbage that is All-New, X-Force, etc, but . . .

Feline Hank is the Hank I fell in love with, and this Hank is fundamentally not that man. He doesn't know what that Hank went through. He doesn't remember a word of it. If he sees Abigail Brand, he won't blink twice. If he sees Emma Frost, he just thinks, Hellfire Club. If he sees Broo, he'll just think, aaah, Brood! And that just.

Sucks.

I hope, even now, that there's a chance for him to get old Beast's memories. It would hurt him, deeply, to know what he's done, but it would make him whole again, and give him new perspective that would make his journey going forward self-motivated, rather than just at the end of a sharp stick wielded by other people.

But.

Even if that doesn't happen under Percy, there's always a chance it can happen under another writer. There can always be an arc of Beast trying to get his old memories back, dealing with X-Men trying to stop him (either out of fear of him or for him), there can always be a The Crossing style fix like there was for Tony Stark.

All it takes is one good writer, honestly. All it takes is for someone to pick him up, shake off the dust, and put some shine on him. Because do you know how good it felt to open up that comic book, and see him say 'oh my stars and garters' again? To see him chatty, and hanging off ceilings, and being just fucking cute? The idea of getting that, for multiple issues going forward, is just - it's goddamn catnip, man.

Yeah, it's too little too late. Yeah, this is the worst way it could have been done. Yeah, this could have been avoided, were it not for Ben Percy sucking eggs. Yeah, it reads as damage control.

But at the end of the day, Hank is in a better place today than he was yesterday. And so long as he's going up, then I'll take it.

In fact, let me talk to you about something.

Are you familiar with the Japanese practice of kintsugi? From Wikipedia:

"Kintsugi, also known as kintsukuroi, is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with urushi lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum.

As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise."

Comic book characters do not belong to us. That is, unfortunately, the truth of them. They belong to massive media corporations who treat them not as valued parts of a story, but a licence to print money. They belong, momentarily, to writers, who treat them not as beloved icons, but as tools within a story. They belong to the fandom, but only in a fleeting, ephemeral, transformative state.

Comic book characters get broken all the time. But by the same token, all it takes is for the right writer to come along and fix them. You can allow yourself to get bogged down in the history, in the injustice, in the poor writing decisions, or you can allow yourself to see a beautiful pot inlaid with gold, with silver, with platinum.

Beast is on the road to recovery. It's in the shittiest way possible, the pot is broken and we're missing a few pieces, but we can always find them again and add them back in.

And who knows? Someone amazing might come along and use this to tell the single best Beast story ever told.

X-Force could have been that story - I've talked at length about how this could have been a Greek tragedy, a reflection on a life ruined by throwing one's self at the world's problems and being struck down for caring too much, but it isn't. It's a spy thriller with a Bond villain. But it could have been. There's almost no such thing as a bad story (unless you're Chuck Austen), just bad execution. X-Force was bad for Beast. Okay.

But what if the next story is the best one he's ever had?

And I'm gonna leave you with this. You know how you should never read the comments? Well.

"I do admit i missed him, tho."

"Oh shit! I was JOKING that they'd bring back Stars-And-Garters Beast to beat modern beast! HELL YEAH"

"I'm honestly happy they are. I'm so tired of the "Beast is a bad guy" storyline."

"I'm so glad Happy-Go-Lucky, child-like wonder Hank is back! It's why he's one of my top 5 X-Men."

"This is the Beast we kmew. It's nice to have him back for now. As expected. Him crying at the end over all the files present Beast has written, shows that this is the old beast, from way back then."

"Yaaay non-genocidal maniac Beast is back."

"Welcome back, real Beast."

When was the last time you saw so many random strangers on the internet be happy about Beast, man? Celebrate this. The 5 years are almost over.

Well. Unless things go horribly wrong in the next two issues.

Knock on wood.

#vinial453 #verse: I wait to wake #outofmuffins

[msfcatlover]

You’re all going to be seeing these back to back (thank you queue,) but I wrote the Star Sapphire Damian post last week and have been doing more research on the corps. And honestly, I like it even better now?

First of all, ever since I found out how Lantern rings work (that is, being drawn towards the entities most filled with/fueled by/capable of inspiring the emotion the ring represents,) I’ve been really curious about what happens if someone doesn’t agree with the main philosophy of the corps, but the ring was drawn to them anyway. Because the Green Lantern ring only cares about strength of willpower, but the Green Lantern Corps is a political faction with its own rules, principles, etc. What if someone had one of the strongest wills in the multiverse but when they find out about all the other stuff they’re just like, “Nah. I’m good.”  …I mean, in the case of the Green Lanterns, I’m sure they all team up to take that person down and take back the ring. But literally what is stopping the ring from just flying back to that person? Or one of the other rings just flying about? And some of the other corps seem to place a much higher value on their core emotion than the rules they have in place, so would they let that person keep a ring that had decided that person was worthy even if that person wouldn’t follow their rules? (I am 100% certain this has been addressed in the comics at some point, but I don’t know where to even start to look for it.)

What I’m saying is: Damian doesn’t have to agree with the Star Sapphires’ policies as an organization to get the powers. Which is good, because Damian definitely would not be down for the whole brainwash-recruitment strategy. But he is still full of love & loss, he’s still driven by it, he’s still willing to make huge sacrifices for the sake of those he loves (case in point: as far as Damian’s concerned, none of his family even know he exists at this point in time, and by pursuing such a dramatically different path Damian can never recover even a facsimile of those relationships—the context is just too different, there’s no way they’ll ever see/treat him the same way they did before.) (Which is just some delicious dramatic irony. Especially because I get to reward Damian with people who did live through many of those things with him, and who care about him & understand him the very way he thought he was giving up forever. Much more damaged, scarred, and emotionally shredded versions of those people, but those people all the same. Who will be just as happy to see Damian as he is to see them, because each & every one of them lost him before and probably thought they had again when they found out the League was burning & Damian was fully MIA.)

BACK ON TOPIC! Damian is filled with love & loss, and could absolutely draw in a Violet Lantern ring. And the Sapphires seem to be one of those corps who care more about the purity & power of the emotion felt rather than the rules they follow, so there is a solid argument for them letting him keep it. And it would give Damian the equipment to personally stop the invasion, because he could force the generic Evil Alien Overlord to experience all the pain they made Damian go through. Not in a brainwashy way, but more in a, “Let me help you make a more informed decision by showing you what you actually do to people in your quest for conquest. Let’s see if you still want to pursue the same path after witnessing the other side,” sort of way. (Is that more of a compassion thing? Yeah, but you can’t tell me the Sapphires can force feelings of love into people to bend their wills and not expect me to believe they can make them feel other emotions tied to love, especially when having loved & lost is one of the things the rings prioritize.)

This requires me to make the non-green Lantern corps a much longer-standing thing than they canonically are, but fuck it, that’s a retcon that should’ve been made long ago; it does not make sense for the Green Lanterns to be this centuries-old organization and all the other (supposedly equally powerful & important) emotions only getting rings & corps in the most modern last few years.  Plus, it means Earth’s primary Violet Lantern would be a very, very small child, and I think that’s hilarious. He’s gonna adopt Dex-Starr, and then they’ll both make Hal Jordon look like somehow the least competent Earth representative.

#How much of this ends up in the story? Idk #but #I’m having so much fun #// #iwctw (time travel) #time travel fixit #damian wayne #damian al ghul #dc lanterns #star sapphire #violet lantern #star sapphire Damian wayne #Violet lantern Damian wayne #batfam #batfamily #bat fam #bat family #Batman #my writing #mine

[jomiddlemarch]

Except you enthrall me, never shall be free

Part II

Alina woke to darkness.

It was deeper than the Fold, than any nightmare’s abyss.

She woke to the sound of a man’s low voice coming from some little distance she couldn’t measure, piss-poor mapmaker that she was.

“It’s all right. You’re safe. It’s all right, it’s morning, it’s morning and you are home.”

She knew his voice but she couldn’t name it. It was lightly accented and precise, both too far and too near. She couldn’t see anything—

“Am I blind?” she asked. Memory came to her in fragments, none of them images: pain, like a great claw, and the smell of sweat and pine needles, the weight of her hair against her neck, and wind rushing past, taking her breath away. She moved and the darkness grew somehow more impenetrable. “Have I gone blind? Saints, am I—"

“No, Alina. You are well, it’s only—”

Here the man broke off as she tried to sit up, the wildness of terror taking hold, her heart pounding, making her feel faint, nothingness around her, consuming her—

“Seguru zaude, zurekin nago, neshama,” the man said. Said or sang? She’d never put much stock in the Saints, had never seen what they did for people like her, but what he’d said reminded her of the litany as it was recited on the winter holy days, when the earth was hard and the sky like a stone. She could not have said what the words meant but she recognized them, recognized him.

“General Kirigan?”

“Aleksander,” he said, the gentlest correction.

“Why am I—why is it, it’s so dark, I can’t see—” she said. If she were not blind, had she gone mad? Her mind crumbling into dust, to be swept away—

“Yes, you can,” he replied and the room took shape around her, the wide bed with its tall carved posts, the chests and the diamond-paned window with its elegant draperies parted over lace, Aleksander sitting in a high-back chair, just within arm’s reach, all of it lit with the most delicate light, softer than moonlight, warmer than a candle’s flame, and all of it coming from his palms as they lay in his lap. Darkness trembled at the corners of the room, intensified for a moment, and then was gone.

“Here you are and here am I,” he said. “I shall have some tea sent up and something to eat—”

“But you are the Shadow Summoner,” she interrupted. She gestured around them, where a few dust motes sparkled in the light. “I thought that meant you only controlled shadows.”

“I am. I did. And now we are here and what was no longer is,” he said. She frowned, at his oblique remarks, at finding herself so far out of her depth she could not begin to get her bearings, at his serenity when she could not claim any for herself.

“I’ll have to do better than that, I see,” he said, smiling. Becoming a man instead of a remote and impressive leader. Becoming the person who had held her after saving her. “But let’s eat first, before I get us both muddled in arcane mystic philosophy and quantum physika. I promise it will all go better after you’ve eaten. They say an army runs on its stomach, but I think you don’t have to be a soldier to think more clearly with a full belly.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said, because she never was. Not for the ordinary food from the orphanage kitchen, porridge and lentils, stewed vegetables, black bread, and not for the treats they might get once a year at a festival market-day, fried cakes, jellies dusted with sugar, spiced chickpeas and wafers rolled and filled with sweet custard. It had been no great sacrifice to give Mal the larger portion of whatever she was served or to hand over her once-a-year festival penny for him to spend on something he’d gobble up in an instant.

“Are you sure?” he asked. The light in the room trembled or perhaps she shivered. Shadows dimmed her vision for a second, quicker than a blink, and then were gone. “I can have the cooks make you whatever you want, it’s no trouble at all.”

“I’m not—” she began to repeat and then found it wasn’t true, the appetite she could hardly remember making itself known. She wasn’t ravenous but she did want to eat, even if she couldn’t think of anything particular to request.

“Perhaps something sweet? There are some pastries filled with quince jam and then some biscuits made with kakaoliker and mazzard,” he said. 

“Those pies with the cheese, they have them at the fairs sometimes,” she said hesitantly.

“Khachapuri. A savory,” he nodded and stood. His kefta was open and the shirt he wore beneath it was open at the neck, the linen rumpled, his trousers creased. She saw him as he’d been when they first met, looming above her, not a hair out of place, every aspect of his person perfect; he must have slept in the chair he’d been sitting in. He moved about the room with complete familiarity. Was it his bed she’d slept in? What else could she surmise? “I’ll let them know. It won’t be long.”

“I can get up,” she said.

“No,” he said.

“Why?”

“The Healers said you needed to rest. What happened, what I did, it wasn’t how such an injury would be treated by a Grisha Healer,” he said. “They want you to be careful.”

“I feel fine,” she said.

“I don’t believe you,” he replied, shrugging. “You’re too used to being ill, suppressing your power. You’re too used to no one wanting to hear if you feel poorly, to any distress you have being ignored. And I’m not sure how it will go for you—”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean I didn’t expect to wake up in darkness. I didn’t expect you to think you’d gone blind. Or mad,” he said. She hadn’t spoken aloud her fear of insanity to him but he’d known it anyway.

“I can’t believe you don’t know what’s going to happen to me,” she said. “When you used your ring to cut me, you sounded entirely confident. I felt it when you touched me. Just like when you healed me.”

He laughed, but it was an unhappy little sound, and suddenly his face looked exhausted.

“I couldn’t fail, neshama. That wasn’t confidence, it was necessity. Beyond that, I can’t say I know anything,” he said. “I did what I could, but I was afraid. The whole time.”

“And now?” she asked. He looked down and then back at her. His dark eyes were full of tears.

“Here you are. And here am I,” he said. It was an answer, she supposed. Not one he would have given two days ago, but it seemed the whole world could change in an instant.

“Home, is what you said last night. I remember that. You said I was home,” she replied. “Were you lying?”

“No,” he said. “I can’t lie to you, Alina.”

Can’t. Not won’t. He’d used her name, not any endearment that said she was little or ephemeral. She noticed and she understood he’d wanted her to.

“I think I’d rather stay here for breakfast after all,” she said. “You like those quince pastries. I’d like to try one. Plus the cheese one. It turns out you were right about my appetite.”

“That’s good,” he said.

“That you were right?” she asked. He smiled and it was like nothing she’d ever seen before, all his restraint cast off. With a flick of his wrist, the room was filled with the most cheerful, buttery sunshine.

“That you are hungry.”

And that was the morning of the first day.

#darklina #shadow and bone #season 1 #shadow and bone au #hurt/comfort #alina x aleksander #soft!thedarkling #sab #merzost plus #domestic #two summoners summoning #romance #angst #worldbuilding

[catchyhuh]

If each of them would ever have YouTube / Tik Tok account... What would their content be?

i tried so hard to really and truly answer this but i just kept thinknf of this throughout

lupin: started as a joke but he IS having fun with it. he’s mostly just fucking around there’s like NO production quality there it’s just. viddy oe. and thats the case whether its youtube OR tiktok, either way it’s going to be quick cutesy spur of the moment junk. if he ever really went all out, he might make some kinda digital calling card (he has made video cards before to inform his targets he’s about to rob their asses lmao) but it’d be some stupid hilarious shit. like imagine those video wedding/graduation invitations with the poorly animated stock resources and generic acoustic guitar music. text slides in that says “i want that statue dumbass” (cymbal fade sfx) “so yeah i’ll be taking that” (dramatic text pan) “seeya thursday, can’t wait :)”

jigen: no profile pic no real username. just like jigen76943 with the blue j icon. NO tiktok. NO tiktok for our guy. insists lupin shouldn’t be using tiktok either as its shortening his already horrible attention span. jigen doesn’t really post videos too much, but if he does it must be something very important to him, really only uploaded so he doesn’t lose it. there’s a handful of videos from some of their vacations (whether its an intended vacation or just ‘oh shit we’re in spain. we should have fun with this’ type deal) but it’s almost all privated. he’s not really showy about stuff like that

fujiko: she had a momentary lapse of judgment when making it, because she thought, easy way to sucker in idiots and make some money off that ad revenue. but also… do you REEEALLY want the world knowing exactly where you are, what you’re doing, at any given moment? well. no. but if you heavily screen every tiny fraction of your video before even THINKING of posting it, maybe nobody will be able to tell you’re literally sitting inside the taj mahal. posted a makeup tutorial once while she was already wearing a full face of less obvious makeup just because it was funny to her to see comments insisting she was so much prettier “without makeup.” so yeah like everything else in her life she’s found a way to rig this for money and her own personal entertainment

goemon: Nay. you know i don’t personally subscribe to the “goemon cant understand ANY technology he’s so archaic teehee” philosophy, but this ain’t even about that, it’s about the fact that goemon is the only one who’s initial reaction was “you want me, a wanted criminal, tagging the people i have been around and locations i have been to? for ‘clout’????” at best he just uses jigen’s phone to watch random stuff that interests him, and like, he’s not PHYSICALLY RECOILING when fujiko tries to show him a funny tiktok, he enjoys the fun of it. but he’s not making one, and if he has anything to say about it, he will not be featured in lupin’s bullshit

zenigata: doesn’t even have his own. he’s like a background feature when (SURPRISE YATA SNEAK ATTACK) yata posts. yata will be like “wow the louvre!!! look!” and take a lil video and zenigata’s just in the background looking bored out of his mind. in the louvre. he’d never BULLY zeni into participating, but once yata becomes aware of the fact people are playing where’s waldo with his stuff, he might try to have fun with it. q&a with the inspector. share some life advice with the audience. and the whole time zenigata’s like “um. uh. don’t break the… law?” and the commenters eat it UP. zenigata thinks its stupid but he tells yata he’s doing it because yata enjoys it, and that's it. however secretly you know he’d fucking love the attention

so final verdict: unfortunately i believe all of these people would be baffled and horrified if i explained how many times i've rewatched defunctland's disney channel theme video in full. but they could have a little fun with it

#also if this is formatted strange and weird compared to the other posts um. don't tell me <3 #lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin #jigen #fujiko #goemon #zenigata #yata #asks

[pro-xy]

Welcome to this week's meltdown post 180 degree longitude, buckle up my emotions are all over the place.

First thing first, I can't move on from In stopping Wang. I can't and won't let go of that moment, i'm keeping it in my heart forever, pretty much like the whole series at this point. I'm holding onto this scene for strength for what's ahead.

After 7 episodes i still don't get how In can be so chill about two people 'invading' his space, as an introvert i know i would freak out 100% like, no m'am, you won't throw a party at my house with a bunch of people i don't know. Nope. Mi casa no es su casa ffs.

As a uni dropout I kind of appreciate In telling Wang to follow his passion and choose philosophy as his major, it's refreshing to see.

Can't have an episode without Wang challenging In at least once. We (and I mean me) love to see it.

Mol is a certified party pooper. Do i need to elaborate on this? I don't think so.

I won't touch on her narrating the post award ceremony events, it pisses me off too much.

Let's give a 10 at In's expertise in deflecting potential uncomfortable situations, at least this once.

Okay Mol, we know you know and now they know it too (subtlety left the chat). On a serious note here we go again with her belittling Wang's feelings. Is this something new? No. Does it rub me the wrong way anyway? Heck yes.

If we took half a step toward moving from the past last episode then we took 10 steps back with this one.

I still stand by what I said last week about how every character is lonely in their own different way and I think I really hit the nail in the head that time.

Someone should remind Mol that even though Wang is her son, he's still his own person and he's not her property and as such he has a right to make his own choices which don't have anything to do with how much he loves her or not.

If I could give Wang a hug and tell him he's not a disappointment I would, lord knows i would. The pleading in his eyes, shit, that hurt. If anything, he's the one who should be disappointed in Mol cause for all her big talks of loving her son, well, she's not doing a very good job. As she likes to remind him, she may have given him privileges because of her fame and the money that come with it, but love? Does she actually love Wang for who he is, all the good and the 'bad' or does she only love her ideal version she has of him? I think they should have a conversation about the love she thinks she gave him and the love he needed her to give him.

'I may be young, I still have a lifetime ahead of me but how long do i have to wait? Do i have to wait until those people die so i can love who i love?' Don't touch me cause i might crumble, my emotional sanity is hanging by a thread at this point. He's so strong for staying true to his feelings and his identity, I love him so much.

When will In stop running away? Man, I'm so confused. I thought he was finally ready to be free and begin to move forward but now I'm not so sure. Old habits die hard, they say. It's frustrating, that's what it is.

The look in Wang's eyes when he looks at In is the same In had when he spoke about Siam and all I know is pain.

I am of the opinion that a conversation starting with 'do you have a minute' never bodes well and i'm not wrong. I hate everything about that conversation but I also feel it's very telling about Mol's character and the dynamics between her and In. I shed angry tears when she had the guts to ask him to give everything up for her, again, when there's nothing left he could give her and at the end of the day Wang is still her son, no one's gonna take that away from her also he never gave any sign he wanted to cut her off his life or did i miss something? Is she really so selfish to not realize she's setting up Wang for a lifetime of unhappiness? Doesn't she recognize what's happening again? Mol is entitled to her own feelings okay yes, but I can't with her. First she doubts Wang's feelings who's probably the one most in tune with his own feelings out of the three of them, then she says she wants to make him normal again? What does that even mean? Normal by her standards? I want to scream.

I don't think i know how to explain how bad i feel about the last five minutes of this episode, by now english is not englishing anymore and i'm just too wound up. The first time he's asking, no, he's begging be acknowledged he's let down by both of them because they're so obsessed with the ghost of his father they cannot see Wang who's standing in front of them baring it all for them, being vulnerable. Them walking away because they're not strong enough to face reality is probably the worst form of betrayal. In the end there's only loneliness, again.

#it's a good old word vomit you're welcome #the lonely by christina perri plays in my mind as bg music and it's depressing af #it's probably the first time i'm getting pissed off at In #but his passiveness really gets on my nerves #Wang is the only one trying to change things he's the only one fighting for what he wants and the life he wants #by now you know i can't stand Mol and after this episode there's virtually nothing that could redeem her #180 degree longitude passes through us #180 degree the series #thai bl #personal

[ultramarine-spirit]

Is there a phrase that Athy has said that you like a lot? Or any other character? Is there a phrase that Athy has said that you like a lot? Or any other character? I personally think one of Athy's best lines was when he bowed to Claude on his birthday, it was really epic

That's a good choice! I'll keep this post about Athy, because I have too many favorite lines of hers. But overall, Lucas is probably the one who says the quotes I love the most. My favorites from the novel:

«Lucas, you brat... I'll kill you. Next time we meet, I'll really kill you!»

« I'm not yours, you are mine! »

« If this were a kid's story, everyone could have had their happy endings. No one would have been unfortunate or have any faults. In their perfect forms, everyone could have had their beautiful endings. »

Funny, romantic and thoughtful.

First one is funnier without context. Second one, everyone knows it, it's iconic, no explanations needed. Last one is from the final chapters. I think that line perfectly reflects the novel's philosophy, and it's a nice contrast with the manhwa's different take on the story. Neither is better than the other in my opinion, but rather, that contrast is what makes each other much more fascinating.

And as for the manhwa...

First, this classic (from both the novel and the manhwa). When you think about WMMAP, you think of this scene. Moving and heart-wrenching at the same time.

My absolute favorite quote... This felt like the one chapter where Athy finally exposed her heart to the reader. In volume 7's author notes, Spoon wrote about how she wanted Athy to learn that the love others gave her is not something to be gained or lost, and that she hoped Athy could in that way learn to love herself. That's it, that's Athy's whole character arc in a nutshell. Yeah I'm going to cry.

A simpler line but also a direct thematic continuation to the one shown above. The sequence leading to this is so impactful (I love the alliteration of people asking Athy her name. It's literal poetry, I'm not joking), and the scene that follows even more so...

Putting these scenes together really shows how much Athy grew over the course of the story, huh? From accepting she truly loved Claude but being willing to give that up, to confessing how afraid she was of losing her loved ones' affection, because it was the first time she held anything across three lifetimes, to finally realizing her true self and then being willing to sacrifice herself to protect those she loves.

Excuse me, I need to go cry for a bit...

#who made me a princess #i suddenly became a princess #suddenly became a princess one day #wmmap #sbapod #sbap #athanasia de alger obelia #athanasia #athy #wmmap novel #wmmap meta #my favorite lines from Lucas... where to even begin. In the novel. when he tells Athy she doesn't need to reciprocate anyone's feelings #'... But if somehow something were to happen to her... #I would be so enraged that I might kill everyone and set the entire obelian empire on fire. #I'd burn down everything until every living being on this land has turned to ash.' #'I shouldn't have shown her the sacred tree. But it's too late for regrets now. She won't... listen to me even if I try to stop her.' #'But why is that I can't bear the thought of losing someone now...? Did you feel this way too?' #'I still don't know how it feels to have a family. but I do know how lonely I would be if I weren't able to see that someone again.' #'... I understand why you didn't want to exist any longer.' #'It's still fine... I'm protecting her... so at the very least she'll be able to come back...' #'... You are the only person that I think of as someone I want to protect...' #Diana's: 'Though I couldn't raise you and hold you in my arms. Never once have I not loved you since the moment I felt your existence.' #'I love you my daughter Athanasia.' #'That's our child... I want to protect her even if something happens to me.' #Claude's: 'Don't be sick. I'll do anything for you. so please always stay healthy and happy...' #'I'm sorry Diana. Now I finally understand you.' #woah notice how most of these are about Athy or people loving Athy? I wonder what's up with that

[mareenavee]

Okay, I want you to gimme some Varlais answers~ Because I love a disaster Thalmor

Which areas of Skyrim do they find most beautiful and most dangerous?

Do they regret journeying to Skyrim?

Who is their mentor? Who do they go to most for lessons?

What is their stance on taking a life? Do they kill without a second thought, in the name of a god or daedra, or do they adhere to pacifism?

Hehehe. Okay, alright. I'm inspired. Let's go. I'll let Linare Varlais answer these things himself. :> (From this ask game here.)

Which areas of Skyrim do they find most beautiful and most dangerous?

Hm. Skyrim. I'd say, especially now with the dragons flying about like vermin, it's likely dangerous everywhere. There is a kind of beauty though, if you ignore the danger. I'd say the most beautiful place is likely Solitude, or the surrounding mountains overlooking the ocean. It's cold, but it reminds me as much as is possible of Alinor, regardless of the snow and ice. It's still the sea and it's close enough. That said, it's still one of the most dangerous places here. There, Solstheim, Winterhold, Markarth...anywhere there is a strong Thalmor presence, honestly. You make one mistake and you're -- well. No need to worry about that. As I said, everywhere's dangerous these days.

Do they regret journeying to Skyrim?

Well, to be perfectly honest with you I never did have any choice in the matter. I've lived here most of my life. My father was a guard for -- oh. Yeah, no Ondolemar just said I shouldn't bring him up, so I won't. After a few interesting events, he was promoted to Lady Elenwen's personal guard and that opened up a lot of doors for me when I got older. The only time I get to leave this frozen boulder of a province is when I mess something up and am sent back to Alinor for retraining. After that, though...ugh. They always ship me back to Northwatch as if that'll make the difference. I do regret the mistakes, even when I can't help but make them, because I absolutely hate that fort. If I never see the inside of it again, I'll die happy.

Who is their mentor? Who do they go to most for lessons?

I think this is a complex question, and Ondolemar will kill me if I divulge too many details, maybe. But I can say this. My mother and my sister taught me everything I know about archery. My sister's skills probably outpaced Mother's, and I'm sure she could've outshone me, too, if she had survived her retraining. ... ...Yes, sorry, I was just... I was just thinking. Forgive me. Anyway. Yes, it's not possible to go to Alinor on my own right now with my current posting to train with my parents. Instead, I put all my focus behind the plan Ondolemar is working on. I look to him for guidance whenever things get a bit iffy. For me, to be honest, they usually do.

What is their stance on taking a life? Do they kill without a second thought, in the name of a god or daedra, or do they adhere to pacifism?

I am not a pacifist. Oh, but Gods would I have preferred that. No, early on I learned how it really is in this world. My parents are both veterans of the Great War, and their philosophy on the matter -- regardless of if they'd be able to form other opinions -- is that if one does not strike first, then in most cases, it gives the other person the opening they need to eliminate you. And I've seen it plenty all across Skyrim, a thousand different times. After a while, you don't think. You just aim and shoot an arrow and hope it's enough to get you out of danger. I can't say it doesn't affect me, because I do hate it. Very much. But I can't fix anything if I don't try. That said, I don't fight for a god and certainly certainly not a Daedra. I fight to remain part of the insurgence, more or less, so that I might right the wrongs done to my family first, and to my people as an extension of that.

#AskMareena #AskVarlais actually #MareenaWrites #Skyrim OC asks #Varlais #Linare Varlais #skyrim #skyrim fic #The World on Our Shoulders #elder scrolls #tes #tesblr #Thalmor #Elenwen #Ondolemar #fanficblr #writblr #writeblr

[enaelyork]

BLUE - A Thrawn x Tarkin daughter OC (reader) Fanfic [Part 1 - The Ghost]

Agent E. Tarkin X Grand Admiral Thrawn

[+18 ONLY]

A lot of TW English is not my native speak

--

Chap prompt :

During her older sister's wedding, Eleanore Tarkin suffers the consequences of her reckless actions and comes close to death. Until the arrival of a strange Grand admiral

For the first post click here

1. Eleanore

In my family, we all have a propensity for destruction.

It's a philosophy instilled in us from an early age, first by preventing us from grasping what the word feeling means. Then, Eriadu takes away the part of humanity that we have left. Allowing us to detach ourselves from the world of the living. We are there to succeed and this triumph leads irremediably to the loss of others.

But I never did anything like everyone else.

This is how I explain my tendency to focus this destruction on myself rather than on the universe in general. My person being easier to access and the impact on others much less considerable. Yet what is happening to me tonight is beyond my control, I swear. It's bad enough to choose your older sister's wedding to try to die, even when the family tradition is to ruin everything you touch.

That'll teach me to want to steal my dad's stuff, including the drinks they send him. I had decided to swallow it in one go to avenge myself for his indifference and currently I feel totter between nausea and lack of oxygen. The teenage crisis was ten years ago, Eléanore, you should know that we don't touch dad's business, especially when it's an eminent governor of the empire who wants to offer it to him.

I needed to feel alive. It was so funnyl that I burst out laughing alone, telling myself that I spent most of my life putting myself in danger. Integrating the empire's secret services was part of my provocative strategy, as was my irresistible urge to contradict everyone. The taste for danger, the indifference of my existence and yet tonight I wanted to live.

Such a shit.

At this point, my heart no longer knows whether it should beat fast or slow down. Beads of sweat bead on my forehead and I'm sure my face is catching fire in the freezing air. It's probably my loud cough that's drawing attention, because my trachea is retracting and it's almost impossible for me to breathe normally.

And I hit him.

Was I still walking? To stagger, to crawl? In any case, this is how I met the ghost. I called him like that because he had this deep blue spectral complexion and a white uniform, like the sheets of the ghosts of my childhood. And his eyes fascinated me.

- Damn, you are both beautiful and terrifying!

I don't have a damn idea how he reacts, but he's not leaving, that's pretty good news. Although, when you have blue skin and red eyes, nothing should scare us, including the half-crazy one who laughs at her agony. His lava-colored orbs deflect towards my hand and back at me, making me wonder why I'm missing the air.

-What can make me see your skin so blue?

He chuckles in a monotonous and serious tone. The timbre of his voice is incarnated tranquility, self-control in excellence.

-It's not what's in your glass that affects my appearance. What did you swallow?

-Something that wasn’t for me.

I still have enough lucidity for not say too much. I don't know who he is and it's better for him that he doesn't know my identity. Anyway, everyone wants everyone dead here, nothing is too good to win favor with the emperor, not even a corpse.

His hands rest on my cheeks and he pulls me closer to him, leaning down to examine my pupils. It must be absolute darkness in my eyes, because the effect of this contact has on me is absolutely insane. Was there an aphrodisiac in that glass?

-How long ago did you ingest this substance?

His tone remains peaceful, but something must have changed in his features, I guess behind a slightly more troubled vision. I gather my thoughts, my eyesight begins to derail dangerously, the barrier I'm leaning over blurs, and he pulls me into a more secluded space to allow me to kneel on the floor.

-Less than five minutes.

I'm cold, I'm hot, my legs are a kind of spinning material unable to hold the rest of my body upright.

-Are you sure ?

-It's the only thing i know.

And the fact that he is clearly not human. So why is he wearing an imperial white uniform? Only prestigious officers wear it, and the empire is not one to ennoble the unhuman.

-You need to see a medic droid right now.

- No ... please. No, not that.

They must not know, no one must know. Don't make waves, don't draw attention to me. I will never be forgiven.

-In this case, you will have to make you vomit. -Dying is a good option too. Your hands are warm and you look friendly. - Lean into this basin.

That's it yeah. After all, a wedding is more of a great opportunity to die stupidly. I'd rather think about my fate than even consider for a second sticking a finger in my mouth.

- My fingers ? In my mouth ? No way !

That's good, my life is coming to an end, it limits opportunities.

-I'll have to do it for you, then.

He's not serious? Oh, yes, he is, I can't see much in his red eyes, but the wrinkle that forms under his forehead marks his determination. I'm completely screwed and I'm probably going to die in it. Facing this extinguished fountain, he leans my head down to allow me to remove the poison more easily. Something happens then, when the placid cold around me gives way to the warmth of his body against mine. He gently brushes my hair back, his fingertips brushing my skin with stunning delicacy. Despite the urgency of the situation, it does not lack sweetness and it stirs something deep inside me and I can't explain it.

- May i ?

I am speechless, my trachea choking with the poison that oppresses me. Unless it's him. His imposing body and the coldness of his insignia which is flattened against the bare skin of my shoulders.

- Close your eyes, it will go faster.

And I don't have time to react when his movement already hits my glottis and causes a lightning vomiting reflex. Everything that comes out of my stomach is dark and slimy and even though the pain that pierces my insides tears me in two, I feel a real relief there.

Several nauseas manage me to spit out what was forming in the hollow of my bowels and slowly, my heart resumes a normal rhythm. It's finish. I know that in such a short time what was in the glass had no time to reach anything but my stomach and although the pain was still unbearable the rest of my body won the battle.

My mind is different.

Cause apart from this awkward situation and the fact that I just threw up, I find this situation, the way my body fits into his, particularly erotic. He is a hardened soldier, my evening dress is not thick enough to prevent me from feeling his build under his costume. The fact that he is not moving, that he has barely moved away to let me vomit, arouses doubt in me, the idea that he is not so indifferent to it either.

- It's done.

- Already ?

What a stupid question. Our eyes meet for a moment and my lips still tremble from the shock I just suffered. For a moment I believe, I hope, that he touches me again. But instead, the ghost stands up and detaches itself from me, giving way to this coldness that characterizes me so much.

- How do you feel ?

Horribly, I thought for a moment to sex with a non-human, despite my situation. Nothing is going anymore.

- Nauseous.

- Nothing out of the ordinary.

-Horribly frozen.

-Drink some water from the fountain over there. And if you feel bad tomorrow, see a doctor droid.

-As you order, Doctor GreatBlue.

I watch him rinse his hands and not even the water washes away his skin tone. He doesn't say a word, turns around and leaves me in my disarray. Time to prepare myself, to let my palpitations calm down and to discern what is real or not in what has just happened.

Despite the water I've just swallowed, I still tremble when I reach the grand ballroom where my sister's guests are feasting on the best imperial dishes.

No trace of him.

-Oh my god, honey, where have you been?"

A hand rests on my shoulder and my fiancé's big caramel eyes hit me as hard as a collision of ships. It brings me back to reality, that and his perfume with acid notes that he sprays on himself outrageously every day.

- Where were you ? You slipped again! We are looking for you everywhere! Your father is furious.

Dying, poisoned by the drink they wanted to give my father. He should be thanking me instead of spitting on me like that. Erwin Spencer is a young prodigy in the Imperial Army. A brilliant academic, admiral in the marine and he rose as an instructor for trains pilots and future recruits alongside me in our training unit.

He's also the man I'm going to marry. An agreement his family and mine made to guarantee him a bright future in the shadow of Tarkin's influence. And, as usual when it comes to major decisions in my life, I had no say in the face of my father's authority.

-The speech is ready, I hope?

I shake my head, absent, my gaze wanders around the large room and the lights are still very blurred. Am I still under the effect of the poison? Is there something else confusing me so much. His hand slips into mine and I let myself be drawn into this tragic current that takes me to the head table.

-You better not shame us tonight, El'. If I learn that you have consumed spices, I will inform your father immediately.

Like a torrent trying to break the dam, I feel my emotions catching up with me. Nothing human, we said, yet what constricts my throat and blurs my vision is all my humanity about to scream for help. Then, suddenly, the world stops turning and I see him again.

The ghost.

He is facing me and although we are far apart, I am convinced that he has seen me. That he perceived what crossed my eyes and from behind I recognize the silhouette of Colonel Yularen at his side. This moment is fleeting, but it seems endless in its intensity.

The ghost saw my tears.

And it is no longer the poison that squeezes my heart.

[Next]

#thrawnisromantic #thrawn x oc #thrawn fanfiction #thrawn x reader #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #starwars #star wars fanfiction #star wars

[whump-n-comfort]

🔪 this is a sideblog! if you see interactions from a blog called @halorocks1214 in your notifications, that's me :)

🩹 on that note, I go by Halo! I use she/her and he/him pronouns and am proudly aroace 💚💜

🔪 I'm one of those guys that has always been into whump as a kid—I REALLY enjoyed the kidnapping episodes in animated shows lol—but didn't have a name for that enjoyment until I got onto Tumblr and immediately felt at home with all y'all cool people 😎

🩹 as you may have seen by this blog's title and description, most of this blog's motif is sharing hurt/comfort content! I will be upfront and say that I project a loooot onto my faves, which is why I like to see them comforted so much (touch starvation is a bitch 😔) and in general prefer "soft whump" most of the time or explicit happy endings for the harder tropes i'm into

🔪 however, I still also enjoy whump because of its core foundation: being able to beat the shit out of your favorite character. sometimes, I will find something that does not have comfort in it that I want to share because it's simply too good not to! if all you're here for is that sweet sweet comfort, feel free to blacklist the tag #no comfort to avoid those sparse posts :)

🩹 outside of that, I tag art as #art and gifs as #gif as well as gifsets as #gifset when applicable; #whump trope for the posts that get more descriptive and #whump prompt for the posts that are more quotes/"fill in your characters here"-type interactions; #whump meme is self-explanatory and #whump community is for sharing love to all you lovely people out here browsing this corner of Tumblr; I occasionally tag #fave whumpee on characters that have stuck with me through the years (characters in the tag liable to change as time goes on); and of course, #~my stuff~ are the posts where I'm OP; #before whump was here is a cheeky tag I use for specific moments I remember feeling strong whumperflies for growing up but still had yet to learn about the term "whump" lmao

🔪 everything else is up in the air as tagging goes. I try my best to catch as many descriptors in a post as I can, but I'll admit some stuff could slip through. let me know if you think a post is missing something and I'll be sure to add proper tags 👍

🩹 my squicks are mainly things like pet whump, mind break, forced full-nudity, betrayal/broken trust between close characters (if it's because of a "twist villain" then that's fine), and heavy NSFW, so, for the most part, you won't see those on this blog, but my philosophy has always been that if it has comfort, I'm willing to give it a shot, so even if it's really rare, it could happen. remember to just let me know if I'm missing a tag!

🔪 my inbox is always open under the "💌 insert rambles here 💌" button if you ever wanna submit whumpy thoughts. I try to post everything I get, so feel free to hit me up! all answered asks regardless of what they contain will be tagged with #ramble tag

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🔪 as mentioned, this is 99% a SFW "soft" whump blog, but I still support my more NSFW and otherwise "dark" whumpers! I am a firm believer in that there is no "correct" way to enjoy whump. whatever your reason is that makes you enjoy it is valid and as long as you are properly tagging your content then keep on doing stuff that brings you joy :) we may not interact with each other all that often because of squicks or personal preferences, but just know that I will have your back and defend your right to write whatever you want ❤️‍🔥

🩹 I do believe those are all the topics I wanted to cover, so if you managed to make it this far, thanks for checking out my blog, and most importantly, the whump community in general! If you decide to stay, well, then hope you enjoy it to your fullest capabilities :D

#about me #GOD i wanted to make a shorter info post and just ended up making one twice as long how do i ACHIEVE these things- #regardless i got an influx of new followers (hello!!) and figured it was time for me to update a few things #esp since ive been attempting to interact with my blogs in a new way #also next post is my 800th post and thought it would be funny if this was it lmao