#how to boost confidence

[aaronabke]

Breaking Chains: Discovering Your Inner Light's Strength 🌎

[joitotheworldstuff]

👗 How Choosing the Right Outfit Can Boost Your Confidence Daily

Let’s keep it real, sis: how you dress can absolutely shift your energy. We’ve all had those days where the outfit was giving, and so were we. Shoulders back. Chin up. Walking like you own the moment. That’s no coincidence. Choosing the right outfit isn’t about vanity. It’s about vibe. And every day is a new opportunity to dress like the woman you’re becoming. Here’s why what you wear matters.…

[bestlifecoachinindia]

Confidence isn’t something you’re born with—it’s something you build! 💡✨ Start with self-awareness, set clear goals, surround yourself with positivity, and invest in your growth. Which step are you focusing on today? ⬇️

[pincushionsoup]

Serori and Pom’s height difference

[crabsnpersimmons]

i'm glad you all enjoyed seeing HYE Y/N!

and i love all the comments about how stylish Y/N is! in reality, they only really dress up for work. and any time they're out for work, they eat out, so that's why most of their outfits in that sketch spread are on the nicer side

here's a comparison of their work attire vs. what they wear at home:

because of their work, Y/N doesn't eat at home often and i mean, why would you when you have hot boyfriends that are more than happy to cook for you ykyk? but because of that, they don't have a lot of fresh food at their apartment, mostly non-perishables like instant noodles, canned food, etc.

also for everyone who wants to date Y/N, you'll have to fight their 7 evil exes /ref their 3 clingy boyfriends:

pro tip: the way to their heart is food! and a listening ear (:

[captainpriceslilwife]

little thing with John Price that goes from angst to smut to angst again and then fluff and back to smut....pretty much checked all the boxes here i think. okay yay <3 also ill be honest...idk if i like how this turned out, but.....here it is *serves up half-eaten charcuterie board made from lunchables*

Basically Price is using your daddy kink as a trojan horse to rewrite your neural pathways <3 but like...with love Shoutout @coco-killed-the-angels for implanting these worms (insecure girl x price) into my brain <333 CW: deep insecurities (bc i'm the one writing it, so...it's a given), daddy kink, crying, praise kink (?) - does it count if he's just praising you in a sexual setting and its not necessarily a kink idk, if you're allergic to true, deep love and you just want smut this is not the work for you, not DDLG but like...the cousin of it. Or sibling. DDLG adjacent.

Your day had started off rough.

Well, the whole week, really. With deadlines and headaches looming over your head, it's no wonder that you ended up in such a state this morning.

You were just barely fighting the childish urge to just whack the brush over your head, so you tried to move on to putting your makeup. Which only ended in you crying in frustration when it started to cake up, and then you began crying even harder when your tears started making the rest of it slide off of your face.

"So fucking stupid." You had whispered under your breath as your shaky hands wiped at your face in a sorry attempt to fix everything - only to make it worse.

That's how John found you in the bathroom, furiously scrubbing at your face with a towel to wipe everything off as you sobbed quietly to yourself.

"Woah, woah, woah...sweetheart." His hands are quick to wrap around yours to halt your movements, and you try to bow your head to avoid his gaze, but he tilts his head right alongside you. "What's all this, huh? What's wrong, sweet girl?"

And he tries his hardest to comfort you, he really does, but you're just so lost in your anguish that you blow up in his face the moment he suggests you be gentle with yourself.

"No! I have to wear makeup today because my face is breaking out and I look ugly, b-but I keep ruining it because I'm crying! God, I can't do anything without ruining it!"

Maybe you were just hormonal or about to get your period, but it didn't matter. Your insecurities sound the same no matter what chemical is bouncing around in your brain to cause it.

Which is how you ended up here - on your hands and knees on the bed, facing the mirror on the dresser with John's cock nestled deep inside of you.

He had already been working you up for hours, teasing and licking and fingering you until you could barely hold yourself up - which explains why he's got one hand curled at the base of your skull to hold your head up by your hair to force you to watch as he fucks you.

But he's not even fucking you. He's just...sitting inside of you. Not moving. Making you whine and whimper as he stares at you through the smudged reflection of the mirror. You plead with him quietly, fresh tears blooming to wash away the dried tracks from your earlier malaise, but he just shakes his head and pulls your hair back a bit more.

"I already told you what to do, sweetheart. Go on." But you just blink at him dumbly with those teary eyes, too far gone to remember how you got here, let alone what he just said five seconds ago. But that's alright - if war taught him anything, it was how to be patient. Especially with a soft thing like you.

"Daddy's not moving until you say something you like about yourself."

Oh, right. That.

You had kind of been hoping he would just fuck your brains out so you could ignore your little meltdown earlier and forget it ever happened - but clearly John had different plans.

"I don't want to."

Brat.

Even when you were trembling beneath him and begging him to fuck you, you still had the nerve to talk back to him. But John knows you well enough to know that you aren't acting out just for the fun of it. So, he isn't going to punish you now. You're upset, and insecure, and you just want him to take it all away so you don't have to think about it.

Which is exactly what he's doing - even if you can't see it from where you are mentally. He's just playing the long game.

"One thing, baby." He murmurs in your ear, locking eyes with you in the mirror as he curls himself over your back to press his hairy chest into you, making you mewl softly. "Just say one little thing you like about yourself, and Daddy will fuck you, just like you want. I promise."

And you poor thing - you're just so desperate. You're cunt is leaking around his cock and no matter how much you try to rock your hips back to get some kind of friction, he's holding you too tight to make any real progress.

So you give up. Or give in. Either way, you decide to just let go and think of something - if only just to get him to pound you into the mattress the way you wanted.

But when you looked at yourself in the mirror - all puffy eyes, splotchy cheeks, and tangled hair - all you could see is what you didn't like.

Every bump, every scar, every part that's too much, and every part that's not enough. Suddenly every mean voice in your head has a stage - telling you about all the times you failed and how you aren't worthy of anything good in this world. Ugly, stupid, worthless, annoying-

There's nothing you can think of, even to just throw out meaninglessly to get him to hop off your case. Nothing.

And all you can do is choke out a pathetic sob - lower lip trembling violently as you squeeze your eyes shut to block out the mean voices circling around in your head. "Daddy, I can't...I c-can't think of anything."

He had expected a bit of resistance from you, but the way your face crumpled so sadly at the prospect of complimenting yourself made his heart ache in his chest. Clearly your insecurities were running deeper than surface-level, and he'd have his fair share of work cut out for him if he wanted to make you feel better.

"Shh, hey, hey, hey. It's okay." He coos softly, removing his hand from your hair to curl it around you to rest it against your sternum. He sits back against the bed and takes you right along with him, planting you on his lap with your back pressed against his chest - with his cock still inside of you. You're grateful for it, since you know you'd just spiral even more if he took it out and left you feeling empty and cold while you were already on the verge of a complete breakdown. "Daddy can help. I'll help you out, sweetheart."

"We can think of things together, my love. It's okay." He murmurs quietly as he wraps his arms around you, rocking you back and forth slightly as he gently hushes your tears. His thumb comes up to wipe away the fresh tears that slip down your cheeks, and he can feel his heart cracking in two at every little heartbroken whimper and sob that manages to escape your lips.

"What about your pretty eyes, hm? The ones that help you read all of those books, even when it's a little dark? The same eyes Daddy loves to wake up to every morning?"

You blink owlishly through your tears, your hiccups coming to a halt for just a second as you begin to process his words. He's not talking about the color of your eyes or what shape they are, but what they can do. You've been so caught up on how every part of you looked...not what they were actually meant for.

Your eyes aren't supposed to be the prettiest color or the 'perfect' shape. They're job is to help you see. And you can read, and admire the sunset, and cry, and watch TV - and none of it has to do with how your eyes look. They're the same eyes that lock onto John's from across the room and tell him 'it's too much. can we go home?' without ever having to say a word. And he always knows how you're feeling, just from taking one look at your eyes.

"And what about your hair? Don't you like braiding it and putting it up in all those pretty hairstyles? Don't you like how Daddy can play with it when you get all sleepy?" You turn your head around to look at him through your tears, and you take in a shaky breath as you nod your head silently in agreement. "Yeah...I know I like it, sweet girl."

You let out a restrained whimper as his words settle over you, your heart cracking in a way that it never has before - like its rearranging itself to fit the beautiful image of his perception of you. You can feel his hand gently squeeze your arm to silently urge you to continue on your own, and it takes you a minute to think of something before you let out a trembling whisper.

"M-My nose..." You sound uncertain, blinking up at him for validation only to be met with a loving smile and an encouraging nod. "I like my nose."

Your nose was never meant to look like everyone else's. It's just there to help you breathe. To bring oxygen to your blood to keep you alive and healthy. And it helps you smell everything - the bread at the farmers market, John's cologne bottle whenever you missed him too much in his missions, even the gross candles at the store that you force John to smell too just so you can both suffer together. It even crinkles up whenever John presses a kiss to it when you aren't expecting it, which always makes him laugh and makes him press just one more to it to get you to giggle and swat him away.

"Yes...good girl." He praises softly as he presses a line of kisses along your shoulder, reverent in both his touch and stare as he tilts your chin back towards the mirror. "Keep looking at yourself, darling."

"And Daddy loves your beautiful smile...you know, that's the first thing I miss when I go away. I keep a little picture of you in my vest just so I can see it even when I'm on my missions. I love seeing my gorgeous girl look so happy." His words coax another watery sob from you, which he quickly soothes by running his hands gently up and down your arms. Eventually he trails them down and circles his hands around yours, using his thumbs to massage gentle circles into your palms as you cast your gaze down to watch. "And your hands...didn't you bake me those cookies last week with these hands?"

"Yes, Daddy." You nod once again, and he brings both of your hands up to wipe at the tears that are dripping off of your cheeks and down to your torso.

Your body let you express your love for him in all the ways you wanted - hugging, kissing, cuddling, crying, laughing, talking, listening, touching - you could go on forever now that you're really thinking about it.

Your body was a vessel for love - a home that could fit all the adoration and affection that John could possibly give you and you could give him - and instead you were using it to house all of the shame everyone else had burdened you with over the years. But John had all the patience in the world, and if he had to pick that shame out piece-by-piece in order to burrow his love inside of you, then that's what he'd do. Happily.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty...such a pretty little girl you are." He punctuates every one of his words with a kiss to your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, your hair...all until he reaches your ear when he finally whispers, "I'm so lucky to have you, baby."

And you poor thing - now your blubbering in his lap as your brain tries to comprehend the sheer amount of love he's pouring into you, and he just continues to hold you patiently as you work through it. It's only when you finally calm down a bit that he speaks up.

"I think you're so beautiful, my love. Inside and out. But if you look in the mirror and you don't like what you're seeing, for whatever silly reason, I want you to remember that your worth comes from a lot more than how you look. Do you understand, baby?" He waits until you nod your head before he plants a kiss right to the crown of your hair. You can feel his hand settle on your thigh, thumbing the sensitive inner skin as he locks eyes with you in the mirror.

"Do you want to keep going?" And then you see it - settled underneath his love and admiration for you is a spark of concern. He doesn't want to push you too hard, especially in a delicate setting like this. His cock is still hard and nestled deep inside of you, but you know if you said the word right now he'd end this all in a heartbeat to make sure you were comfortable and taken care of.

But you don't want him to stop. It feels different this time around - like it's not just sex. It's something more ritualistic than that. So you nod your head once more, making sure to keep your eyes on him in the mirror so he can see how earnest you are.

And slowly, carefully, he readjusts you back into the position you were in before - on your hands and knees facing the mirror. And you can see him watching you closely for any sign of discomfort or regret, but all he's met with is trust in those teary eyes of yours.

"Keep telling me what you like, sweetheart."

And so you do. Clumsy compliments stumbling out of your mouth as he finally starts to rock his hips, granting you the relief you've been craving from him for what feels like forever now. And the more you praise yourself, the more intense his thrusts get - but he never turns rough. Not even for a second. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he whispers his own devotions into your ears, pushing himself as deep as he can as if he's trying to plant the words directly inside of you.

You're so overwhelmed by the love and the pleasure he's giving you that you barely even realize how fast your orgasm is sneaking up on you, but he notices. He can feel you clenching around him as your thighs begin to shake, and he doesn't waste a second in gently guiding your gaze to look at yourself in the mirror once more.

"Are you a pretty girl, baby?" He grunts softly, barely staving off his own release long enough to drive his message home. You begin to nod your head frantically, too caught up in your impending climax to form any coherent sentences as you begin to flutter around him - but he's not having any of it.

"Yeah? Go on, then. Daddy wants to hear you say it."

"I-I'm a..." Your stuttered words are cut off by a deep moan, and your eyes squeeze shut tightly as you clamp down around him. "I'm a p-pretty girl!"

And then you're sent into the most mind-shattering orgasm you've ever had in your life. You can feel yourself gush around him and you hear his restrained curses as you collapse into the bed, but even your own voice sounds muffled as you call out his name with a quivering cry. He fucks you right through it, leaving you trembling and crying from the intensity as he finally spills inside of you with a few tears of his own.

He just barely catches himself before he collapses on top of you, and it takes him a minute to catch his breath before he readjusts to, very carefully, pull himself out of your squelching cunt. He coos gently as you whine at the loss of contact, and he scoops you up like you're a porcelain doll that'll shatter if he's not careful.

You're still so fuzzy from the intensity of it all, but he places you in his lap to let you bury your face in his neck, and his arms quickly wrap around you the second that your trembling form curls up to him like a kitten in a storm.

"There she is." He whispers softly as he kisses your forehead, one hand trailing up and down your back as the other one circles tightly around your shoulders to ground you with his presence. "There you go, sweet girl. Take a deep breath, my love."

He can feel the little puffs of air hitting his neck as he continues to hold you, and it brings him back down to earth as well as he works you through your comedown. Soft whispers of praise graze your ear as he moves to clean you up, keeping his movements soft and careful when he sees your eyes begin to flutter shut.

And you look up at him with so much love and trust when he finally pulls you down to lay back against the pillows, he can't stop himself from taking a moment to brush at the soft skin of your cheek before he presses his lips against yours. It's not hungry or lustful - just pure love being poured into you as he pulls the covers up to cover your bare form.

He pulls back just enough to murmur quietly against your lips, eyes looking down at you with so much reverance it makes your head spin.

"I love you so much, baby."

And you can't help the little wobble in your lips or the glassiness in your eyes as you rest your head against the pillow, pulling him closer with your shaky hands as you plant a little kiss on his lips.

"I love you, too, Daddy."

[soclearly]

it's so frustrating seeing bylers writing thousand-word posts explaining why byler makes complete narrative and thematic sense in the show, and then seeing everyone else being completely incapable of giving any actual argument that isn't a variant of "you're reading too much into it", "stop trying to make everything gay", or absolutely distorting the actual story and what actually happens in the show in order to do so. it's truly ridiculous, but i bet it will be real funny in the future. i cannot imagine having byler doubt anymore because this fact says everything: byler is meant to be a sort of plot-twist, it is not meant to be totally obvious to most, just to the ones that can and want to see it. it is meant to subvert most people's expectations. i thought these people were in denial back then but most of them are not. they are not in denial at all, they truly think this. they intended to make it all work in a way that's obvious yet not at all, that most people think it won't happen yet they can't tell you why.

[gotchibam]

I'm sorry for posting this 2 weeks late but here it is!! This is the full canvas from the magma session hosted last 10/12!

Full pic: https://magma.com/shared/WaFnHaUsnz3LBsdsVv6RDS

Thanks so much to @doodlejoltik, @opossumonashelf, @kitsuroid, @sonikkuruzu, @protagpigeon, @owlmond, @plantollante (plus others I may have missed - lemme know so I can tag you!) for participating!! ;w; <3

[cerulean-crow]

Twicord my beloved <3 Using my redesigns this time!

Fun fact! This was basically my first real ship, basically ever! I was never too into shipping growing up and I was very confused about just how much discourse surrounded it and how absolutely feral some people got over their ships.

But Mlp was what would open me up to stuff like multishipping and crack shipping and how to enjoy a good rare pair- so at one point I just decided I was going to ship something I didn’t see anyone else really shipping. Thus! Twicord!!

At a certain point it stopped being a “joke” and this pairing has since owned my heart for the last decade <3

Sketch and flats under the cut because why not- I tried rendering this a bit differently and I like how it came out

[spikedfearn]

need part 2 to the jungleland fic like i need air

it's on the menu for next week 😊 gonna upload Corpse Bride au tonight hopefully then I'm gonna upload Under the Blood Moon 2 but after that I will be releasing Part 2 for the Lion fic!

[ki1ldeer]

Oh pinterest my beloved, for so long I underestimated the worth of your silly pictures for drawing references 🙏

[pearl-the-artist]

(You called for me) Gabriel / Reader Oneshot

Ok please be patient with me on this. I spent over 24 hours in a car on a trip to Russia a few days ago and it made me do something I've never dared to before: write a fanfic. On my humble Samsung notes.

If this isn't a total flop I might make more? I dunno? Maybe hop on ao3?

Criticism and feedback is appreciated ok thank youuu have fun

Another restless night, another hour spent lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling above you. The room was shrouded in the comforting night air, more illuminated than usual by the soft glow of the full moon outside.

You look at the clock on your nightstand; precisely midnight. Two hours after your drunken father came home again, letting his pent-up frustrations and anger out on you in a one sided yelling match. Of course, as usual, neither was your mother of any support; only giving you that same disapproving, disdainful glare. You were never really welcome, not even in your own home- your parents biggest mistake lingering around only to weigh them down, and remind them of what they could've had. Or so they've told you, many, many times before. Tonight was no exception.

When the broadcasts first announced the new threat infesting the county, "alternates" they called them, you were, admittedly, both terrified and somewhat relieved. You were never really one to believe in the supernatural, but who knows, your parents were just superstitious enough to maybe fall for their schemes.

The first announcement had been around, what, a year ago now? Not much had really changed admittedly, although the population had begun falling drastically since then.

Your parents had of course used this opportunity to also confiscate your phone, the CRT TV in your room and old little MP3 player gifted to you by a relative, god forbid you let an alternate in to potentially threaten them, your own safety not even really a point for consideration to them.

Living with your parents was already hell, but getting by without your favourite albums and shows? Torture.

So tonight when you lied in bed unable to fall asleep, your mind wandering as usual, it may have wandered a little too far.

You recalled something you overheard your parents talk about. A friend of your dad's, a man of unwavering faith, who had been found dead in his own home a few weeks ago, seemingly in the middle of his usual prayers. Even though his family mentioned having seen an odd, ghostly figure outside their home that night, the doctors seemed to blame the cause of death on a brain hemorrhage.

It made sense, come to think of it. When you first saw the emergency PSA, it explained all kinds of methods to protect yourself from alternate attacks, one of which being avoidance of religion, faith, and philosophy.

So then, the alleged "ghost" that visted that poor man just might've been... Well.

This gave you a bad idea, but you weighed the options available to you.

Either you would die in a similar way as the old man, or... you might just get lucky and bargain with it. Alternatively, nothing happens, and you remain stuck with an unhappy married couple that hates each other as much as they hate you.

It was definitely stupid, but at this point it seemed like you had nothing to lose anyway. You weren't really much of a believer yourself, so you didn't exactly know how to pray, but you gave it your best shot. Sitting up in your bed, hands clasped together with a bowed head and closed eyes, you tried your best to focus.

If there was a god out there, may it hear your pleas. Wordless whispers called for help, begging to be heard, while you did all you could to try to concentrate on any spiritual connections. All the while you knew you may as well be praying to a literal demon.

A few minutes passed as you racked your brain for what to say before you stopped, your hands falling back into your lap.

What the hell were you doing? Yes you hated it here, and you couldn't even run away if you wanted to, but inviting an alternate to your house just like this? It was a death sentence, and not a pretty one, that much was certain.

You shook your head. It probably wouldn't have worked anyway. Right, this was all just some silly superstition, not that different from those "send this to 5 other people or you'll die tonight" chain e-mails. You laughed internally at how silly it was that you even thought this would work to begin with, and, admittedly, felt a brief sense of relief. You decided that you were ready to just go back to sleep, and just as you pulled your blanket up to crawl back underneath it- you almost jumped.

It was a voice, faintly audible outside your window. You didn't even process it until a few seconds after, a barely legible, strained whisper.

"I heard you praying."

You froze. A cold wave shot right to your stomach. Slowly, agonisingly so, you turned around to face your bedroom window.

A tall figure stood outside, its hands clasped together similarly to how you just had a few minutes ago. With long, flowing white robes and silver, wavy locks that reached down to his shoulders, he looked... Ethereal. Not to mention the massive, pure white wings folded neatly behind his back. His head blocked out the full moon, the light creating something almost like a halo around him, making him appear even more angelic.

"Woah."

You couldn't help the little gasp of awe. He seemed to find it amusing, his grin spreading a little too wide for comfort. Admittedly, you almost doubted if he even was an alternate at all. Maybe you'd come out a person of faith yourself, after this.

"Are you... An alternate?"

You whispered hesitantly, quiet enough to try to conceal the trembling in your voice and also not alert your parents sleeping upstairs, though you weren't sure if he actually heard you at all.

He didn't respond for a moment, tempting you to ask again, before that inhuman whisper was heard again.

"You called for me, and now I am here."

Avoiding your question, huh. Suppose he was an elusive sort. You quickly glanced around your room, eyeing the door in particular just in case; you really hoped your parents were asleep.

"May I... Come closer?"

You couldn't even recall the last time you were this polite to someone, though it was your best bet not to piss him off while he was still friendly, if you could even call it that. You had no point of reference, though he wasn't actively trying to harm you, so it was a start.

The angel, his smile unwavering, simply nodded, waving his arm in an invitation to approach.

It took a moment for you to will your body to move from the initial shock, but with slow, careful steps you moved to open the window to properly speak to him, a pleasant cool breeze inviting itself into your room.

"So... What's your name?"

Did alternates have names? Suppose they just took on the name of whoever they were trying to mimic. You leaned onto the window frame, trying to catch a good look at his face; and for the first time in god knows how long you were met with eyes that, albeit a bit creepy and lifeless, looked back into your own with an unfamiliar lack of hostility.

"You may call me Gabriel, child."

Gabriel? That name sounded familiar- Oh! The Saint Gabriel's church at the edge of town. Suppose that made sense, given his angelic appearance, if it wasn't just one morbid coincidence. Your thoughts and scrutinizing stare dragged on for a bit longer than you were aware of, though, as his voice pulled your attention back to him.

"Are you lost, my lamb? I can save you. Let me in. Let me into your mind."

The last bit seemed a bit more... Pushy than the rest, making your stomach feel just a little heavier. You gathered your thoughts anyway, trying to push that feeling aside for now. You did do this for a reason, after all, though now that he was actually here you were starting to second guess things.

Gabriel seemed to take note of your hesitation after a while of you not responding.

"Open your eyes, my lost little one. Look at me. I can grant you anything you wish for. You just need to let me in."

An odd mix of dread and comfort you'd never felt before settled in, and the feeling was almost... Refreshing, in a way. You quickly glanced back up at him, and he was still staring at you, ever so patiently, eerily.

"Uhm... I was just- well, it's probably kind of silly."

No backing out now, not when he was already here. Even if you wanted to, you don't think he'd let you go so easily. As you verbally stumbled over your own thoughts, he simply waited, his unblinking eyes staring into you, gouging out your soul. Or so it felt.

"I just thought... Is it possible for, well... Is there a chance for humans to be able to ally with alternates? Can I join you?"

Surprisingly, that got his smile to falter, if only a little bit. A flicker of emotion you couldn't quite explain showed in his eyes- surprise, perhaps, or consideration.

"What for, my child?"

That uncanny whisper of his never gave away any emotion, monotone and unfeeling, yet not unfriendly. Admittedly, his question made you pause; you hadn't exactly thought of how to explain this to him. You hadn't even expected him to show up at all.

Fidgeting nervously, unsure of whether to tell him the truth or not, you tried to think of what to say. Despite your rationality screaming at you for being an utter moron, you knew you were in too deep at this point.

"I don't think I'm any good to these people at all anymore, I just... don't know what to do anymore. With myself. I have nowhere else to go. And, maybe..."

You weren't sure if you should say it or not, you already let more vulnerability slip than you wanted to. But your spite driven words were quicker than your brain, and man did it feel good to open up for once.

"...maybe for revenge, also."

Gabriel listened to you surprisingly attentively, very interested in your words. At your last statement, he perked up with an almost malicious twist to his grin. Before he could respond, though, you suddenly heard the sound of your parents creaky old bedroom door and footsteps from upstairs. And you could tell by the sound of them that it was your mother. And she was pissed.

For a very panic filled moment you weren't sure what to do, your thoughts racing- instincts called for you to jump into bed and pretend you were asleep like you usually would... but with Gabriel here, you couldn't- and that's when you realized you really only had two real options.

Stay here, and continue living this miserable life, and also deal with the imminent outburst of your mother.

Or go with him, and then... Well, nothing and no one could possibly guarantee what would happen to you then.

"Choose wisely, my dear lamb."

Your dilemma seemed to be rather palpable to the "saviour" as he pulled you out of that mental spiral, and you were rather grateful for it. As much as it made you nauseous with uncertainty and anxiety, you finally snapped out of that paralysis and turned towards the window.

"Please, help me. This is the only favor I'll ever ask of you. I will do anything you want in return, I promise."

You began to plead in an urgent, hissed whisper, practically leaning out of the window, causing him to take a step back.

Desperation and panic shook your words as you glanced back at your bedroom door.

"Get me out of here."

He chuckled, an amused sound mixed with something you couldn't quite explain that made you feel more fuzzy than you'd care to admit.

"Come. Come to me, my child. Step outside."

For the first time tonight hesitation became a foreign concept as you practically leapt out that window. Your bare feet felt the cold gravel beneath, just in time as the door to your room swung open.

The angered yelling of your mother were drowned out by the feeling of suddenly being lifted off the ground, Gabriel taking you up into his arms like your weight was akin to a feather.

He was cold, lifelessly so. And yet the soft silken robes, the way he held you in his arms, and his deceitfully promising whispers were lulling you into a sense of security you hadn't felt in a long, long time.

"A lost little lamb, asking their shepherd for guidance..."

His eerie, yet strangely comforting laugh filled your ears once more over the noise of your mother not yet realizing you weren't in your bed. You're surprised she wasn't hearing him at all. Maybe it was another mind game of his.

"You made the right decision. I knew you would. Such a smart, yet scared little thing you are, are you not?"

You leaned your head against his chest, sighing deeply, beginning to forget what you were ever doubtful about during the start of this whole fiasco. Your weight began to sink into his arms as you relaxed. He held you a little tighter in turn.

"Of course I shall guide you, my child. Come with me; you will be mine. You will be safe."

Just as the furious woman realized to check the opened window, Gabriel vanished as swiftly as he appeared, leaving behind the sight of nothing but an empty garden, peacefully quiet, as if you were never there.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

it’s been over five months and every time i put my necklaces on i still think about that time miles kane specifically came over to me and told me how much he liked them 🙈

[emily-mooon]

In honour of the fact that this blogs birthday is coming up soon in March of 2025, I decided to redraw the jancy titanic au portraits (with a few changes) from the first piece of fanart I ever posted to the internet!

Original from 2023

[overwhelmedfernfrond]

Turns out all I needed yesterday was to dress up and do makeup and be with my friends as we all enthusiastically hype each other up

[ryuki-blogs]

Today's companion by @chanceofclouds 🐵