#you don't have to make an assignment out of it...

[kiplex]

You hated parties. They were loud, overstimulating, and there were too many strangers. So when Gideon invited you and Caleb to a party he was having you were hesitant to say the least. You thought having your boyfriend there, your emotional support Caleb, you would be fine; especially once you had a little bit of alcohol in your system. But alas, the universe has a different plan for tonight.

You're three cups of something deep, probably some vodka and a splash of juice, and glued to the side of the wall which were vibrating with how loud the music was, the hum of people yelling over the music certainly wasn't helping. Caleb was god knows where, the second you guys got to the party Gideon whisked him away to go take shots with him and some of the guys they went to college with. Your finger drums a consistent beat against your red plastic cup, your eyes scan the room for any sign of him. Sure, you could go and talk to people, mingle a bit but… Something in your stomach lurches at the thought of doing that.

You take another small sip. You pull out your phone check to the time. “You're Colonel Xia's girlfriend right?" Someone shouts to your left. He looked about the same age as Caleb. “Ah! Yeah! Yeah I am." Your voice wobbles, slightly startled. “Man, he is one lucky guy. I was assigned to his fleet shortly after he took over." The man extends his hand offering his name, that you definitely don't catch. Instead you politely smile, shaking his hand and yelling your name back over the music.

He starts going on and on about fleet stuff, with the amount of liquor in your body you really can't make heads or tails of it, you just politely nod. He wasn't a bad guy or anything, you just clearly were uncomfortable and didn't want to be there. When you feel a hand wrap around your waist, you nearly jump ten feet in the air. “Woah woah! Pips, it's me." Caleb's voice is soft in your ear. Your whole body immediately relaxes into his touch. “Oh Colonel! Good to see you off duty." The man you're talking to acknowledges his superior. “Good to see you too, if you don't mind I'm gonna steal her away for a bit." Caleb smiles at the man. You are always in awe of how charming and charismatic Caleb is naturally. He makes it look effortless.

The man nods, and Caleb grabs your wrist taking you to a free spot farther down the wall. His body blocks your view of the crowd, his cologne flooding your senses calming your nervous system down exponentially. " You okay pretty girl?” He asks, his hands cupping your cheeks intentionally making you maintain eye contact with him. Regardless you down cast your eyes. " I'm fine.” You answer, not wanting to ruin this night for him.

He rarely gets time off, let alone gets to spend it with his friends. His eyebrows furrow. " No you aren't.” He sighs, pulling you against his chest before wrapping his arms around you. " Pips, I've known you, your whole life. I know when you're lying to me.” He kisses the top of your head. " Let me ask you again. Are you okay?” He repeats gently. You shake your head no into his chest. "Not really, it's loud and I'm a little tipsy and… I'm sorry Caleb." Your eyes gloss over slightly, tears threatening to spill over.

He pulls you back a bit so he can look at you. “Aw you sweet girl, don't apologize. You've never really been big on this stuff. I'm proud of you for even tagging along with me. Even Gideon was singing praises about you being here tonight… I mean I did shove him for talking about my girlfriend like that, but semantics.” You giggle slightly.

Caleb kisses your forehead. " Do you wanna get the hell out of here?" He asks, grinning at you. “Are you sure? I know you don't get to do this often…" You mumble. He smiles, shaking his head. “I already got to hang out with Gideon for a while, besides my girlfriend is clearly overstimulated and trying to be brave for me. That's my job Pips, how dare you steal my thunder." He squeezes you slightly. You lean up kissing him gently. “Let's go home." He grabs your hand again, leading you through the sea of people out the door. “Oh also, if I see you talking to another man at a party again I won't be so kind next time, I can promise you that. " You roll your eyes, a dumb smile on your face. If you're being honest, you wouldn't have it any other way.

You can find my master list here

[swordgrace]

𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞-𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫. — bob reynolds.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “requesting 'keep reading, don't let me distract you.' for bob reynolds (or even floyd idc) please 👉🏽👈🏽”

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bob reynolds x fem!reader. [2.3K]

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), smut with a slice of plot, needy bob, switch!bob, heavy making out, dry humping / grinding, begging, spit kink, thigh riding, breast play. male orgasm.

[ 4K CELEBRATION. — PROMPT LIST. ]

It’s late in the afternoon, peach-ripe sunlight casting the rooftop in a burnt glow, touching the slats of dark tile and tinted, half-ajar windows.

The Watchtower is unusually hushed, with a majority of the team sent away on different assignments. There’s a soft breeze floating through his nook, carrying the weight of summertime.

Bob sits comfortably on a low, cushioned sofa, brunette waves touched by hints of caramel when the light hits it just right.

The Goo Goo Dolls pour from his headphones, brows creased together in concentration, a book slotted firmly in one hand.

In the quiet, he finds a sense of peace, able to let himself relax, music drowning out the dismal hum of the New York cityscape. His breathing is even, steady; he looks tranquil.

Reading was partially self-taught, a pastime that he’d initially used as a form of escapism, back when he was younger. It’d stuck with him through the years, heightened everytime you bought him a new book.

He hears your footsteps vibrate through the floor, an involuntary side-effect of having superhuman senses.

Taking the serum had gifted him with a slew of inhuman attunements — hearing, taste, scent, his entire body altered to supernatural peak performance.

As he turns the page, your silhouette dances through the doorway, fringed by warmth, light that pools off of your body. Bob marks his spot with a creased corner and a smile.

“Whole tower to ourselves, and you’re hiding from me,” The teasing lilt of your voice makes his heart stutter, and he sits up a little straighter, too. “Must be a great book.”

“Sorry,” Bob apologizes without provocation, hands tightening around the hardback spine. “Think I got caught up in the plot. It’s really good.”

Content, you wander toward the couch, wearing linen shorts and one of his t-shirts, material slouched over your frame.

“Oh yeah? What’s the book about?” You hum, sitting on the end, and the distance you maintain is somewhat glaring.

His jaw slacks in surprise, gaze tracing across the shape of your legs, over the material of his shirt that blankets your frame. You smell nice, a concoction of sugar cookies and warm vanilla.

Bob clears his throat, lashes kissing the skin beneath his eyes, owlishly blinking in your direction as if you’ve slighted him.

“Why are you over there?” He murmurs, momentarily placing his book aside. Warm hands find the muscle of your calf, steady and strong, coaxing you closer.

“I can be closer.” A laugh leaves you as Bob urges you inward, tugging you closer until your legs are draped over his lap.

Wedged against his side, you feel the taut heat of his musculature, bleeding through the loose button-up he wears. His lips smooth over your forehead, inhaling a gust of your scent.

It’s grounding; the gentle lull of your heartbeat, the saccharine haze of your smell, the way your skin tastes beneath his lips.

Bob exhales; a drawn-out, tranquil sound that indicates relaxation. He keeps you close, draping an arm over your thighs, the other reaching for his book again.

“What’s your book about?” Inquiring again, your fingers drift toward his crown, slipping through his hair, lightly tracing over his nape.

“It’s a mystery,” Most of what he’d been reading were philosophical books, with fiction sprinkled in. The genre change was something he sorely needed. “Murder-mystery.”

“I didn’t think you liked those types of books,” You point out, careening in to plant your chin against his shoulder, still toying with his tresses. “No Aristotle or Socrates?”

Bob’s mouth twitches into a threadbare smile, features painted with a delicate shade of rose. “I needed something different.” He replies, drawing circles on your thighs.

His focus shifts to you, a peculiar tenderness stirring within his gaze, countenance echoing with a veiled affection.

“You can keep reading,” Encouragingly, you don’t mind if he continues, even with you present. You’re content to simply bask within his presence, soak in the nook’s sunshine. “I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure? Close to finishing a chapter,” Bob muses, awkwardly clearing his throat. It sounds silly, trying to read when your girlfriend is halfway sitting in your lap. “Then I’ll hold you.”

With a wrinkled nose, you quietly gesture for him to continue his book. However, you have other intentions, and none of them are wholesome.

Carrying on, he settles back into the velveteen and corduroy of the sofa, ringlets of brown framing his visage, brows furrowed together. His eyes shift over the pages, clearly concentrating.

Warm fingertips idly draw patterns over your thighs, goosebumps erupting in the wake of his embrace. A brief shiver grips you as you adjust your legs, sitting up a little higher.

A hush falls between, save for the gentle ambiance of the outdoors and the even exhales that escape through his nose.

Coiling closer, your lips press against his jaw, which breaks his concentration entirely, and quickly. The noise he makes is sharp and sudden, eyes fluttering in your direction.

Slowly, your mouth trails to his throat, planting warm, appreciative kisses to the exposed skin there, hand firm atop his thigh.

“What …” Bob sucks in a poignant breath, swallowing the lump in his throat when you begin to kiss every inch of his neck. “What are you doing?” He mumbles.

God, you make him break so easily; desire screams within him, sparking to life with little action, cock stirring within his lounge-pants. His hand is left to curl into a fist at his side.

Wordlessly, you don’t offer an answer right away, stringing kisses over warm skin, creeping along the stubble that clings to his jaw. It’s reverent, wanting; the way your mouth moves is tantalizing.

Absently, his tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he squirms again, concentration reduced to mere ashes. The words on the page become jumbled, his brain scrambled.

Your hand moves toward his inner thigh, resting over thick muscle, ghosting across the growing swell in his pants.

“Keep reading, don’t let me distract you,” Coyly, you press a lingering kiss beneath his jaw, pulling another low groan from his chest. “Pretend I’m not here.” You tease, and he shakes his head.

“I can’t,” Bob groans, attempting to stifle the sound with a dizzying inhale. “Can’t focus when you’re doing that, please.”

He’s sensitive to touch, especially yours, nerves set ablaze by your embrace. It’s as if liquid fire slithered over his bones, wrapping tightly, harsh and full of an unrestrained ardor.

Bob tries to keep reading, he really does, but he falters and suddenly, the book is horribly uninteresting. He shivers, Adam’s apple taut, feeling you knead at his erection.

Sluggishly, you crawl into his lap, slotting yourself against one of his thighs. Tilting your hips just right, you grind yourself into him, friction simmering, causing you to gasp.

The book falls by the wayside, unceremoniously dropping onto the nearest couch cushion. Bob’s hands find your hips, gripping you tightly, as if you might cease to exist.

He kisses you feverishly, open-mouthed as a strained whine splits his diaphragm. The pressure that pulses between your legs causes you to shudder, hips grinding over his.

“God, don’t stop,” Bob groans into your mouth, tongue lapping over your bottom lip. The kiss itself is sticky, wet — drool sticks to the corner of his mouth. “Please.”

Hot digits flex over the hem of your shirt, palm gliding underneath to cup your breast. When he finds that you aren’t wearing a bra, his pupils dilate, eclipsed with desperation.

“You’re so handsome,” Your voice is low, affectionate as it curls around him, cock pulsing beneath your hand. “So perfect, Bob.”

Another groan tumbles from his mouth, lips messily clashing with yours, kissing you desperately. Gentle fingers roll across your nipple, kneading at the pliant flesh of your chest.

Hips continue to grind over one another, rocking your clothed core into his thigh, sparks flying. His cock throbs incessantly, a wet patch forming against the front of his boxers.

Lips collide again, a heated exchange of tongue and saliva, pooling in your mouth as you kiss. A moan leaves you, pussy aching, clenching pathetically around nothing.

He’s not going to last long; he can feel it.

His chest stings with excitable pants, kissing you hard enough to make your belly churn with butterflies.

Bob squirms again, clinging to you, inhaling a gust of your scent. He can smell the arousal coalescing between your thighs. “You’re so beautiful.” He pants, visibly enamored.

A scarlet flush blankets his features, as if he’s been burning beneath the sun for too long. He continues to touch you, other hand tightly holding to your hip, rocking you forward.

Bob can feel the coil settle within his belly, a tangle of heat that’s pulled tight, something visceral and real. What he feels for you is overwhelming, raw and sheer want.

A muted buzz shoots through his cock as his hips jerk forward, hot air pushed out through his nose as he teases your breasts. “Can I have some?” He huffs into your lips.

A slick sheen of saliva glistens over your chin, your spit intermingled with his. You touch it with a wry smirk, head cocking to one side. “Yeah?”

He nods several times over, exhilarated and thrilled, pupils blown-out and black with desire. His cock strains against the front of his pants, and you continue to knead at it lovingly.

“Please.” Bob groans, hips helplessly rutting forward, crashing into your palm. You treat him to another careful swirl of your hand.

The wet tendril falls over your chin, a sheen of intermingled spit that Bob greedily covets. Your hand snakes toward his jaw, thumb sweeping over his bottom lip.

His lashes flutter in rapid succession, visibly dazed as he opens his mouth for you, heart stammering beneath his sternum. The hand that holds your hip squeezes again.

Saliva gathers in your mouth as you spit into his, watching it fall like sticky tendrils onto his tongue. His body shudders from the sight, eyes impossibly wide, shadowed by desire.

Bob groans, a breathy whine snaring within his throat as he swallows, blinking owlishly as he slams his lips against yours.

Irises sparkle with a flicker of gold, subtle and fleeting, letting you rock against him still, bodies flush and tight together. Even through clothes, the friction doesn’t die.

He ruts his hips into yours, lets you palm at his cock through his sweatpants, says your name again through clenched teeth.

The look he wears is one of bliss and desperation, all rolled together. Through pinched brows and parted lips, features washed in scarlet, he chases after his encroaching release.

His vision swims with stars, cock throbbing ceaselessly in his boxers, straining against the cotton fabric. Precum leaves behind a wet patch, and he’s nearly bursting at the seams.

You aren’t even touching his skin, and he’s burning for you anyway, collapsing on himself like the implosion of a star.

“You’re — Mm, so pretty,” Bob pants, chest stinging from labored sighs, burying his face beside your throat. He presses a messy string of kisses there, bucking into the friction. “M’close.”

There’s pleasure you gain in getting him to this point, twisted up into knots, treating him gently; when your fingers trace his crown, he pushes out another exhale.

Still, your hand flexes over his clothed cock, feeling the heat that seeps through, teasing his erection until he’s a mess. He trembles beneath you, feeling your hips tilt, knee beside his groin.

As he kisses your neck, he’s everywhere, one palm still pawing at your breasts, rubbing circles across your ribs. He sucks at a sensitive spot beneath your jaw, causing you to moan.

You let your hand drop, using the friction of your body, the both of you humping one another as if you might cease to exist.

He’s nearly there, feeling your hand lightly tug at his tresses. The pulsing of his cock is almost mind-numbing, and he can hear the uptick of your heartbeat.

���Want you to cum for me, sweetheart.” The sultry, affectionate lilt in your tone makes his brain go fuzzy, body humming with static.

The nickname catches him off-guard, but it isn’t unwelcome in the slightest. His insides flood with warmth, a muted buzz tingling his marrow, jaw slack, chest rumbling with a groan.

His hips stutter, grinding into you again and again, making your cunt ache, arousal slick over your core as he reaches his peak.

Bob nearly explodes, body a live wire, skin crawling with an excitable heat as he cums in his pants. It isn’t the first time it’s happened with you, but he’s still flushed and flustered from it all.

It’s sticky and messy over his groin, ruining his boxers, but he suspects it won’t be the last time.

He huffs, blinking a few times over, wetting his bottom lip as he fights for composure. You’re looking beautiful, smoothing a palm over his chest, cupping his jaw.

“You okay? It wasn’t too much, was it?” You murmur, but he vehemently shakes his head, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“No, that was …” Bob swallows, briefly pressing a kiss to your neck before reclining. “A real page-turner.” He teases, and the corny joke causes the both of you to laugh.

“That’s good,” You muse, teeth idly catching on your lower lip, nose wrinkled. Your lips meet for a tender kiss, one that leaves him wanting more. “What does the next chapter look like?”

A flurry of confidence rouses within him, an assurance that he wants to be in-control this time; and he knows you won’t object.

Wordlessly, he lays you down on the sofa, atop plush velvet and corduroy, crawling to find his purchase between your thighs. You gasp, feeling his hands caress along your legs.

Whatever’s gotten into him, you’re thoroughly enjoying it.

As he sinks down to ease your shorts off, linen fabric kissing your knees, you catch the hint of a playful, adoring smile.

“Looks like I’ll have to show you.”

[sabxynsweet]

Okay, hear me out….

Mattheo and sweetheart in the common room and she falls asleep on his shoulder and Mattheo threatens a bunch of first years or whatever who come in loud to stop them from waking her up.

OR OR OR

sweetheart falls asleep on someone ELSE’s shoulder and Mattheo gets mad and jealous, and purposely wakes her up

sweetheart!reader falls asleep on enzo’s shoulder, mattheo's not having it

both these ideas are so cute i think i'll write both <3 here’s your second idea, thank you for the request lovely ! the opening of this is SO dramatic because these boys really are terrified of mattheo it's so silly

They say that right before you're about to die, your life flashes before you like a montage.

Enzo's experiencing that now, memories coming to him like scenes in a film reel while he's frozen sitting at the dining table of the common room.

If it wasn't bad enough that the two of you were paired up for an assignment for a class that Mattheo wasn't in, it was real bad now because you were fast asleep on his shoulder and he couldn't move.

Theo walks past and stops when he see’s Enzo with a look of pure fear on his face, similar to a deer caught in headlights.

"What's up, Mate." Theo asks, Enzo glances over at him with "help me" eyes, unable to move more than his eyes with you hindering his movements.

"Oh." He laughs, "Mattheo's not going to like that."

"Don't you think I know that." Enzo hisses, glaring at Theo who was still laughing, "Let's hope she wakes up before Mattheo see's."

"Before Mattheo see's what?" Mattheo asks, voice cold and low.

Enzo flinches, making you stir a little but, much to his dismay, you're still fast asleep. Theo simply grins and moves back to watch.

"Listen, she was nodding off, I didn't mean to-" Mattheo ignores him, walking closer. Enzo thinks that today he might die.

Mattheo barely even glances at him, instead, he gently taps on your shoulder.

You stir awake - properly this time - and when your eyes meet his, his eyes soften and his annoyance dissolves into nothing.

"Mattheo?" You mumble, your head lifting off of Enzo's shoulder, he breathes a sigh of relief and moves quickly to stand next to Theo.

"Hey." He says, "you fell asleep there."

"Oh." You yawn, "what time is it?"

"5."

"Oh," You say, a little happier now, "it's not too late for a nap right?"

He shakes his head, "no."

You smile, eyes fluttering close again.

"No, baby, you're not sleeping in this position." He snorts.

"Why not." You whine, "M'tired, just let me die."

"You'll hurt your neck."

"You know, it's so totally not my fault that I fell asleep because your common room is so dark."

"I know, Sweetheart."

"Anyone would fall asleep here." You mumble before attempting to sleep again.

He shakes his head, a small smile on his face.

"Come on, you can sleep in my dorm."

"Really?" You murmur, one eye peeking open.

He nods.

"Will you wake me up for dinner?" He nods again, you smile.

"You're my favourite alarm clock." You coo jokingly.

He rolls his eyes but he's still smiling, he reaches out his hand and you let him lead you up the stairs. You lean your body weight on him.

"Unbelievable." He just barely hears Enzo mutter from below, "he was ready to murder me and then she wakes up and he's prince fucking charming."

Mattheo rolls his eyes and continues to guide you, careful not to let you fall.

taglist: @fallingwallsh @espressqe @theodoresvalentine @fanfictiononly4 @genuinelyfloatingsouls @fayezasstuff @glittervame @wxnterwidow333 @thalibaby @cminoko @blainea98 @randomfanpage @megzz-x

[arthurs-ficz]

Mission Accomplished // Jax x reader oneshot !!

Caine had decided to give you random jobs for you to complete today, due to him having 'too many overstimulating options' from the submission box, according to him...

Despite this, you were about to complete another job when suddenly Jax decided to bother you. Of course.

"Whatcha doing? Looks real boring and tiring to me."

He says as he practically looms over you, watching to see exactly what you are doing. The jobs that Caine had assigned you, particularly, were pretty tame compared to the adventures you all would regularly go on. It did make you question why you were the only one assigned them, though... and why were these tasks so easy? You shrug it off for now and respond to Jax.

"I have to do some things today."

You say as you complete another task from Caine.

Jax quirks an eyebrow and leans closer, arms folded.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

Suddenly, you get the idea to say something risky. To get back at all the pranks and embarrassing things Jax had done to you. Would you regret it? Proba-

"Like you."

S i l e n c e .

Jax’s eyes widened at that, and a slight pink tinge tinged his cheeks. A slow smirk spreads across his expression and his tone becomes cocky as he looks at you.

“Oh, you’re gonna ‘do me’, eh? Really goin’ for full on cheesy pick up lines here, aren’t ya?”

Your cheeks stung with a flush as you looked away from him, continuing with what you were doing.

"Okay, but seriously, I need to get things done today."

Jax rolls his eyes with an exaggerated sigh, his smirk staying plastered on his face.

“Fine, be a boring workaholic. Go do important stuff'n ‘n all.”

He pauses and glances at you sideling again.

“But can’t you spend like, one minute just hangin’ with me first?”

You sigh. Just to get him away, you agree and look at him, his smug expression not leaving your sight for a moment.

"Well, what do you want to do?"

Jax shrugs as a mischievous glint appears in his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m easy to entertain.”

He turns in the direction of Ragatha and Pomni playing in the distance, and a sly grin breaks across his features.

“Or I could always take a tease at Pomni. That’s always fun.”

You sigh through your nose, looking at him with an uncertain gaze.

"Just don't go overboard... like you did last time?"

Jax leans against the wall and snickers, recalling the way Pomni had freaked out last time.

“Hey, not my fault she’s got no chill. You have to admit it’s funny.”

He glances sideling at you.

“Besides, you laughed.”

"Okay- but I laughed because I was in shock okaayy? That's completely different."

Jax grins widely and steps closer. His gaze is heavy as he leans in, his voice lowers to a murmur.

“You’re cute when you act all defensive.”

You hold your breath. He did not just say that.

"Shut up. I'm just telling you the truth here, it's different."

Jax snickers and raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing into a cocky grin. He steps closer so that you’re both almost chest to chest and lowers his voice.

“You’re totally cute.”

He glances sideling at Pomni, who’s still happily playing with Ragatha, and grins wickedly. You're about to open your mouth to object to what he'd said, but he interrupts your thought before it can get out.

“Y’know what would really get her to lose it?”

You stay silent for a moment, not knowing if you should even ask.

"..What?"

Jax grins mischievously and whispers into your ear.

“You should kiss me.”

He looks at you with the smuggest face, with no regret for what he had said. Did he really just say that? Seriously, what is he thinking?! You could have nearly dropped what you were doing right there and then.

"What?! Jax, that's literally crazy!"

Jax glances sideling at Pomni, still happily chatting with Ragatha. He smirks smugly.

“But it’d get a reaction.”

He turns to look right at you and leans in, his breath fanning your face. His gaze is intense and his tone is a smug murmur.

“You wouldn’t be too scared to do it, wouldcha?”

You have to blink before responding. This was insane.

"I'm not scared- it's just extreme for a prank! Let alone teasing."

Jax raises an eyebrow and takes a step closer to you. His voice is silky and cocky.

“But you’re tempted, aren’t you?”

His grin is Cheshire Cat wide as he studies your expression.

"Don't put words in my mouth."

You shake your head before looking at him again. Still has that smug cheeky expression on his face.

"Look, we'll just do this really quickly because then I have to go.. Are we seriously going to do this just in front of them? To give them a shock or something? "

Jax’s cocky smirk widens into full mischief.

“Oh absolutely we are.”

He glances sideling at Pomni and laughs out loud.

“This is gonna be sooo funny—“

"Okay!!"

You interupt.

"Let's just get it over and done with quick..."

You say as you try to keep your flush from staining your cheeks.

Jax’s expression softens a fraction, and he cups your face with one hand, the other hand dropping to your waist. He leans in closer still, his voice lowering to a murmur as his cocky smirk fades to a softer smile.

“You know, I can make it real dramatic. Give you like, the whole big kiss thing and all—“

His free hand brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Or I can make it quick and sweet… your choice.”

"Does it really matter if it's just a prank anyway?"

You mumble under your breath.

Jax’s grip on your waist tightens for a moment as he leans in even closer, his face a mere few inches from yours. He keeps his voice low, his expression an intense smolder and his smugness replaced with a softer, more genuine emotion.

“It matters to me.”

His voice grows to almost a whisper, his grip on your face shifting so that he cups your cheek rather than holding your jaw.

“I wanna know what you want.”

You feel your flush completely burning your face off again. Not only that, but it's suddenly so hard to stand up? Your legs wobble and your breathing hitches as you think of a response to give.

"I don't- I don't mind..?"

Jax pauses a moment longer, his hand still cupping your face. He searches your eyes and grins.

“Well, since you can’t decide, I guess I’m taking charge.”

He leans in the rest of the way, and his lips are on yours. The cocky smirk from before is gone now with the kiss he gives you: soft, almost slow, although they are right in front of both Pomni and Ragatha. However, he does make sure to keep it brief. After a few seconds, he breaks the kiss, but he doesn’t pull back. He keeps his face a few inches away from yours, his thumb idly tracing the outline of your cheek. His tone is soft, cocky smirk gone, and the mischief in his expression is replaced with something softer.

“Mm. You taste sweet.”

He leans forward and pecks you on the corner of your mouth for extra measure. Your thoughts are completely gone, almost like they pooled to the bottom of your shoes. The only thing you can feel now is Jax's surprisingly gentle grip on you.

"Did they- Did they see?"

You barely mutter out.

Jax glances sideling at both of them, trying not to break into laughter.

“Yeah and now they're both freaking out. Ha.”

He grins and turns back to look you directly in the eye, his expression still oddly soft.

“I think mission accomplished.”

[amarguerite]

Other Emily of New Moon thoughts-- I'm very fascinated by what LM Montgomery was trying to do re: all of Emily's many suitors. Some kind of vague thoughts under the cut:

Now, ever since there have been professional women writers in the Western canon, they have been reflecting on and writing about what it means to be a person your society categorizes as a woman and as a professional writer, since the two are not a natural mix socially-speaking. Hell, even today there's a lot of genre-writers who identity as or who are assigned as female who get denigrated for it in unthinking and weird ways, i.e. the devaluation of romance as a genre, fantasy/SFF writers automatically getting described as YA writers even when they aren't, clearly documented and demonstrated gaps in book advances, weird interview questions about 'having it all' or 'balancing home life and creative life' that men don't get. A lot of 19th century/ early 20th century female authors write a lot about what seems to be a sometimes mutually exclusive drive between marriage and authorship. This is strange and interesting to me because I don't see as much debate about it these days since I think... it's very rare these days in the US for two married people not to both work, and though the strict social divide between male public sphere and female private sphere isn't as prevalent. Even trad wife content pushing for it involves this weird public exploitation of so-called 'private' work-- like how private, how unemployed are you, when you are a literal content creator for the public for money? That's not to say that household work, childrearing, caretaking etc does not fall disproportionately on women but it isn't expected that a woman give up public life upon marriage, and that in many circles (most?) the major issue is not a question of propriety but of domestic labor or day job labor impeding creative work.

I could be misreading this-- maybe the question is not competing social categories, but a question purely of labor, and the difficulty of being a professional woman writer AND running a household, instead of, Austen-like, being a spinster with other female relations who run the household.

However, if we do just think about 'wife' vs 'writer' as discrete social categories, I think all the beaux Emily has are a really interesting way to disprove a then-prevelant stereotype that a female author becomes an old maid through lack of other options. Her choice of profession, or the personality that drove her to it, alienates the men around her, or makes her ineligible in some way. The basic lived reality is entirely different. It's less that writing extinguishes the more conventional passion, it's just that it can be SUCH a passion with people that anything that does not rise to that level of... emotion, or interest, or what have you, feels fundamentally incompatible with the times where you feel most alive, i.e. writing. I don't think I've ever felt more uncomfortably seen as a writer (one who is always trying to figure out, Emily-like, if I have or can ever earn the title of 'professional' with all my magazine work-- and good God, it's depressing that the pay rates are still EXACTLY THE SAME), when Emily miserably confesses that writing is a compulsion. She can't not do it. There is no choice for her but the alpine path. It is a miserable one. She is often in bleak despair about all the rejections she gets and the reviews that contradict each other, but she can't NOT climb it. She can't get off it for anyone, even a Japanese prince or for the man who almost successfully groomed her (Jesus Christ Dean Priest. That's another post.) It's one of the most... real to me. Like, yes there are other options but... are there really? When you are that called to a specific kind of work, you just can't stop it, any more than you can stop breathing or being allergic to peanuts. Why do I keep slamming myself head-first into the wall of rejections? I have no idea. I just can't not do it.

And though I don't entirely think she succeeded (in large part because we don't see enough to Teddy and understand why he's so great in the last book), I do think it's very telling that LM Montgomery points out that for this specific kind of personality, the role of 'wife' can only be a good fit when the role of 'husband' is taken on by someone who ALSO has this artistic compulsion and knows that it does require long hours of work at odd times, and a certain withdrawing from domestic concerns to get into the right flow state. Dean was a poor fit for a lot of reasons, but the primary one was that he crushed Emily's artistic spirit and impeded the real journey of her life because he wanted to BE her whole life-- Teddy was the right fit because, having been in a similar relationship with his mother, I don't think he's someone who will insist he became Emily's whole life. He's probably happier that they can both go into their creative flow states, and do their own work as they wish without the other feeling abandoned or unhappy. It just becomes parallel play. It's Art Time in the Kent Household, where we don't talk to each other for the next six hours and stay holed up in our separate rooms and we're both extremely happy with that-- that kind of a thing.

tl; dr-- I'm very compelled by how Montgomery puts her own spin on the old, old Western canon debate of wife vs writer and how she reconciles the two, even if I don't think she entirely succeeded in the execution of it.

[toadifylackoffantasy]

4to3 Conversion workflow/tutorial

Hi!

So, I know I haven't done that many, start to finish 4to3 conversions yet. But I experiment and help other people a lot behind the scenes, and I soak up teachings from knowledgeable people such as @simlicious @justmiha97 @thornowl @virtual-hugs, a little bit of @elvgreen and more people like a sponge, and have learnt a lot the past months. So I thought I'd write down what I do when I was working on the Aria dress! While it's a bit chaotic, this essentially functions as a very thorough 4to3 tutorial.

The above document contains my workflow, from start to finish. I use blender 3.6 (unless mentioned otherwise) and no milkshape at all.

It is VERY thorough, long, and can be lowkey overwhelming. I hope my table of contents at the beginning is clear enough. All the links are clickable, so you can just go to where it interests you. If you wonder about it, it's most likely in there, can be extrapolated from the information or I can brainstorm and experiment a how-to(-fix) if needed.

Some notes of what it includes:

Adapting the TS4 normal, specular and shadow maps to ts3

A clean finishing method to get EAXIS-like finishes that allows you to optimize the UV lay-out (nicer textures!) and further minimize clipping.

A quick texture making method to adapt the TS4 texture(s) to a brand new, potentially very different TS3 UV-layout. If you're lucky (it sometimes acts up) the actual texture-changing takes 5 seconds - puzzling the new UV lay-out beforehand would be the hardest part! (But it's also fun, puzzling!)

Very Precise bone assignment

Manually editing morphs, with some tricks for e.g. the fit morph...Why do fit morphs have such ugly boobs, even vanilla stuff?

Bonedelta editing to animate well with pregnant bellies or wide skirts.

... And more. I put my heart and soul into this!

Some things I'd like to try out in the future:

Experimenting with adapting the original TS4 bones to TS3 right there in blender.

Look at more efficient methods for editing morphs and FTOM and age conversions more in-depth (I didn't include the FtoM because it is just lots and lots and lots of proportional editing)

Converting a high-poly Alpha mesh to be more optimized and maxis-match, while keeping good topology and castability. (Likely lots of dissolving edges like here, rather than purely the decimate modifier, which often messes up the topology)

Any questions or something that isn't clear in the doc, don't hesitate to ask!

[puppygirlsnout]

1. Trans women are hurt by this too??? The article you listed literally talks about how this bill targets trans women in the first couple paragraphs. Iswtg yall don't read your own sources on here

2. Nobody is against transmasc specific language. There are objections to the term "transandrophobia" because it's a very obvious "but what meeeeee. What about men" response to transmisogyny. Also the idea of "androphobia" or hatred of masculine traits on a structural level is very antifemininst at its core. It's obvious of you think about it for five or so seconds.

3. A large portion of hate transfems receive comes as a source of their "rejection of masculinity" they are viewed as a stain on the male oppressor class by staining themselves with femininity. At the same time, we are also viewed as invaders of women's spaces, putting "the real wombyn" in danger by our "male presence" this is part of the "third, worse thing" that transfems are treated as, a very foundational part of transmisogny. I also can't tell you how showing it is that you state that this treatment is unique to transmascs while claiming to vy for "listening to others experiences." it's showing how despite the fact you claim to be open minded to others, while yelling right over transfems with no consideration for our experiences. It begs the question, are you telling us to listen, or are you telling a bunch of "whiny bitches" to sit down and shut up when the men are talking.

4. The dehumanizing I've seen towards transmascs comes from expression of feminene traits, not masculinity, or not matching to the identity they claim. This is, misogyny and transphobia intersected of course, but a transfem could just as easily suffer this. Tran women are often harassed for this too, often facing claims of being a "fake woman" whereas transmasculine people will be clocked as "actually a woman." You can see that, while transmascs are reduced to their assigned gender at birth, as is common with trans people, trans women are seen as this worse, third thing. In this way, transfems get the worst of both worlds, and a third of their own as well, making this dehumanizing and sexualization you claim to be transmasc unique, not so transmasc-exclusive after all.

I dont want to minimize your personal experiences, and I don't want to speak over you, so I'll keep this brief. but I would ask you to consider what your mother would have done if it was a "son" wearing a dress. Think about what your mother would've done if it was a "son" trying to be feminine. Because I don't think she would welcome that with open arms.

If you want to say transphobia on a stage is exclusive to transmascs, you are so out of touch that it's incredibly concerning. Do you know how often people like Matt rife of Dave chappele will just get up on stage and shit on transfems? Do you want to talk about how people will spew lies about us being crazed rapists who want to get into women's spaces for sexual assault? This point is perhaps the most telling of them all. This shows that you 1. Did not take transfems into account at any point writing this 2. Do not even listen to transfem experiences, while telling people to listen to yours. Can you make your misogyny any clearer?

Your claim that transmascs have been erased more than anyone else is just ridiculous. Once again you are blatantly ignoring transfem experiences. You have to consider, there is more then one kind of erasure. When someone who was a "crossdresser" (feminine) is shown in history, that is more often then not all they are. Unless if they are shown unfavorably, then, they are every awful thing you can think of, because they were a sick crossdressing mental case. When someone is overshadowed by this one aspect of their life, this one major thing, it is also erasure. Erasure of trans women as people. Erasure of trans women as anything more then some boogeyman, outside of man or woman, some third, monstrous thing. And transfem erasure is more than that. Most people have never heard of Compton cafeteria riot, the things that gave rise to it, or any other structure of transfeminine identity outside of the role of "weird and exotic sex object", and most don't even know that. So no, erasure is not some "transmasc-only" form of oppression. And claiming that it is is fucking disgusting, as with everything else you've said.

The idea that that transmascs are the only trans people who get sent to asylums, jails, etc. Is absolutely insane. This was done to "feminine men" too. They were lobotomized, raped, and abused, and when you say that transmascs are the main class that has been sent to mental institutions and prisons to fie, you spit on the Graves of countless numbers of my dead sisters. This is genuinely one of the most evil fucking takes ever. You were whining about erasure in the paragraph just before, but you've done nothing but yell over transfem voices in your entire response. This genuinely sickens me to my core. I don't even have words for how awful this is.

And for my tags, I'm sorry if I offended your sensibilities, but you've confirmed the exact thing I was trying to say. You're just telling transfems to shut up and listen to the men who know better. I genuinely hope you come around from your violent transmisogyny, but you will be blocked because of your horrid opinions and beliefs.

without fail, every single time, men just seem to forget that there are women experiencing all the same stuff they do with added misogyny. "well what if i don't pass as a man? i'm treated like an ugly woman!" what do you think happens to trans women who don't pass. real quick. hey what's that transandrophobia thing doing in your bio

[lush-escape]

The Vigilante's Guide to Grief

pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

wc: 360

summary: Jason's therapist recommends journaling to help him through his grieving process after your death

a/n: this chapter is a little short guy but it'll get better promise lmao I can already tell I'm going to have so much fun writing this one

next entry: shock

Dear diary, journal,

"No, that's stupid..." Jason mumbles. He groans as he scratches at the paper in front of him. He runs his free hand down his face, scratching at the small beard that was starting to grow along his jaw. He lets out a rough sigh.

Dear mother fucking stupid fucking diary,

Today is May 26th. My dumbass therapist said journaling is good for healing. I think it's fucking stupid. This isn't going to help heal anything. This is my “homework” assignment she said. To write letters like you're still here

Jason stops himself, his hand stills and his breathing grows a little more ragged when he realizes what he's written. ‘Like you're still here.’

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath before sniffling. He brings a hand up to wipe at his nose. His hand shakes now as he goes back to writing.

I don't want to fucking do this. I know you would be laughing at me making fun of me. You should be here to sarcastically ask if I want to use your stupid fucking glitter pens that I fucking ha

A tear falls to the page, wetting it. He roughly wipes at his eyes. Jason prided himself on the fact that he hadn't cried since your funeral. Now he sat at his desk, rather his desk that you claimed as your own - surrounded by your trinkets and pictures of the two of you. Now he was a mess. Fat tears in his eyes and mucus running from his nose. The bags under his were deep and dark. He was even growing a beard now. You always told him to grow one, just to see what it looked like-

“C'mon! It would be so hot, I bet it would!” you'd always say. You would laugh and poke fun at him. He refused every time, telling you his baby face was too good looking for a beard.

Slowly Jason's tears subside and he looks down at his now ruined journal page, covered in tears and snot.

“Fuck this.” He closes the book and pushes it away.

taglist: @vellichor01 @thy-crimson-king

[f1gc]

formula 1 graphic challenge - july

hello again it's almost july???

how it works:

at the beginning of the month, you and another blog are given the same image of a driver you both like

you have until the end of the month to make a graphic featuring that image

you can sign up for up to 3 graphics!

entering:

fill out this google form by 9am est june 30

reblog this post (as always, we're not gonna like. check. but the more people the better, no?)

assignments will be sent out via dm (so if you have your dms set to people you follow only you'll need to follow @albon-no)

posting:

posting begins the first day of the month and ends the last day of the month (july 1 - 31)

post the graphic to your own blog, and be sure to tag your partner's blog and this blog

that's it! this is open to anyone and everyone who likes f1, so even if you've never made a graphic before, now's your chance to start! if you have any questions please don't hesitate to ask :)

[vera-deville]

I am here with but one simple request, jack with a non-confrontational, socially anxious reader! it’s such a contrast with his own confrontational manner and lone-wolf nature that I think would be quite interesting to explore (๑>ᴗ<๑)

love your writing, keep up the good work ^_^ ♡

Louder Than Words 05/03/2025

Pairing: Jack Howl x Reader Word Count: 1,104 Warnings: N/A Gender: GN Tags: @qaxdea, @katzline Notes: Thank you so much! I really needed to hear that, and I'm so happy you enjoy my writing! Masterlist

You had always known that group projects were simply another nook of purgatory established to make life that much more devious to get through.

The very idea of them gave your stomach leeway to twist into anxious knots, constricting like a boa until you couldn't breathe anymore. It wasn't that you didn't like people (okay, perhaps a little), but it was more so that you didn't know what to do with them. The talking. The awkward "who's doing what" conversation. The silent tug-of-war when nobody wanted to take the lead, and everyone kept glancing around, waiting for someone to volunteer. You'd rather write five essays alone in a cave than do one group project with three strangers who barely remember your name.

So when Professor Trein announced a four-person Herbology research project, you nearly curled up under your desk and died on the spot.

And of course, fate - cruel, ironic fate - put Jack Howl in your group.

Jack, with his gruff voice and stone-faced demeanor. Jack, who didn't care if someone got upset when he said what he really thought. Jack, who had no problem walking straight into confrontation like it was a warm summer breeze.

You were going to die. Or cry. Possibly (most likely) both.

The rest of your group was rounded out by a loudmouth from Savanaclaw named Yulan, who had opinions about everything, and a sleepy Octavinelle student who you were 90% sure was just in it for the grade. That left you, nervous, anxious, and wouldn't-say-boo-to-a-ghost you, trying desperately to keep things from going up in smoke.

The first meeting went about as well as expected.

"I'm just saying, if we're talking about magical soil composition, we have to include the variant growth properties from the Scarabia greenhouse. That stuff is wild."

"Yeah, but that's not what the assignment's asking for," Jack cut in, arms crossed. "It says we need to focus on herbological integration in real-world applications, not theory."

"I am talking about a real-world application!"

"Not if you can't prove it," Jack said flatly.

Yulan slammed a notebook on the table. "You wanna bet?"

You could practically feel your soul saying goodbye to your body.

"Um...maybe we can, uh, do both?" You squeaked, almost whispering.

Neither of them heard you.

"Alright, I'm done arguing," Jack growled, standing up. "If you want to waste your time, go for it. But I'm not failing because someone can't read a prompt."

Yulan bristled. "Who're you calling someone, dog boy?"

You slid a little further down in your seat.

And yet, even after the shouting and the note-slinging and the pure chaos of that first meeting, Jack stayed behind when the others left.

You hadn't said a word in the last fifteen minutes. Just scribbled things in your notebook and tried not to look like you wanted to evaporate.

Jack leaned against the table, arms crossed, looking almost...thoughtful.

"Hey," He said. "You okay?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

He nodded toward your still-white-knuckled grip on your pen. "You looked like you were about to bolt."

You flinched. "I...I don't really do well with conflict. Or people in general."

Jack's ears twitched. "I could tell."

You braced yourself for the judgement. The teasing. The "well, toughen up" speech.

But it never came.

Jack looked away, scratching the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to snap like that. I just hate when people don't listen. It's not personal."

You blinked again. Slowly. "You...weren't mad at me?"

He snorted. "You didn't do anything."

That shouldn't have made you tear up the way it did.

"Thanks," You said softly. "I, um...I wanted to say something, but I didn't want to make it worse."

He looked down at you, golden eyes narrowing slightly. Not in judgement. In...curiosity?

"You always like this with people?" He asked.

You nodded mutely.

Jack grunted. "Then I'll talk to them."

"What?"

"I'll keep the loud ones off your back. You focus on the research stuff. You're good at that, right?"

"I-I guess so. I mean, I like organizing and writing..."

"Good," Jack said simply. "Then you do that. And if Yulan tries to start another debate, I'll shut it down."

You blinked. "Just like that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You want me to not help you?"

"No! I just...I'm not used to people being that direct."

"Guess that's why I'm here," Jack muttered. "Balance."

From then on, Jack didn't just participate in the project - he managed it. Not in the way most people would simply take over, but rather by smoothing out the chaos so that you never had to. If Yulan got too loud, Jack would glare at him until he quieted down. If the Octavinelle student slacked off, Jack growled until he did something useful. And whenever it came time to present your findings to the professor, Jack always, always deferred to you to start the presentation.

"You did most of the writing," He'd shrug. "It's only fair."

You couldn't remember the last time someone had made you feel...capable. Protected, even. But never belittled.

It wasn't just about the project anymore.

Jack started walking with you to class after your meetings. He'd slow his pace to match yours, quietly adjusting his long strides so you didn't feel like you were trying to keep up. When he asked you questions, he actually listened - ears twitching every so often as you spoke, tail swishing thoughtfully behind him.

"You talk quiet," He once said, "But you say smart things."

You flushed all the way to your ears.

Eventually, you even got comfortable enough to sit with him at lunch. Jack didn't talk much, but you didn't feel like you had to either. He liked the silence. He thrived in it. And now, so did you.

"Can I ask you something?" You mumbled one afternoon as you sat underneath a tree, papers spread between you.

Jack nodded.

Why do you go out of your way to help me? I mean, I'm not...strong. Or brave. Not like you."

Jack looked at you for a long moment, then snorted.

"You ever try doing something when your heart's about to leap outta your chest? Walking into a room full of people, talking even when your throat locks up?" He shook his head. "That's strength, too. Just a different kind."

You stared at him.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Don't look at me like I said something poetic."

You laughed. "Sorry. You just surprise me sometimes."

He shrugged. "I like people who are real. You don't put on a front. You just...are."

Your chest swelled with something warm and unsure and a little fluttery.

Maybe group projects weren't all bad.

Author's Note: I've been in a bit of a rut lately, which I was really sad about, because a couple of months ago, I had a really good streak going, and I was churning out fics at a rapid rate. Unfortunately, I just kind of fell off that streak for a while. I'm trying to get back into it, and I also plan on opening commissions soon! Please be on the lookout for more information regarding that, and I hope you enjoyed this fic!

[werezmastarbucks]

10. stuck on a tree

flowers over boys masterlist

in which you lecture Jungkook about cocks

word count: 3289

it's the beautiful nature of your work: you are always in the gardens. trimming, digging, placing the stones, cleaning, gathering, planting. and, while the days are sunny if a little stuffy, people are drawn to the gardens. walking and speaking probably feels stupid in the empty yard where there's nothing to look at. of course the king won't go outside the gate to the street to chat, either. so, he retreats to his gardens, after all he has a crew of staff working on maintaining them tirelessly. soon, you will have to run back to the market to beg Seokjin for a new jar of fat for your hands. the Garden of South is full of trees that give fruits. unlike the tangerines. majority of these are ready to be plucked, so for once, you're enjoying standing up and stretching, sometimes standing on your tippy toes to reach them which is good for the back. however, there's always some rearrangement to do, something to perfect. the plants and flowers, even the trees, even though they are much slower than people, constantly change. your eye catches their leaves nodding to one side so you may tie them up a little because all flowers should be facing the windows. you don't try to trim them too much or stomp out the natural lush of plants as they grow and form curious shapes; you highlight them, and Jiyoung says you are really good at listening to them. flowers especially; you listen to them as they sing to you how they want to grow, and you help them. you assign your own meanings to plants when you don't remember the conventional symbolism. you think that, of course, Yoongi is a tangerine. he needs peeling to get to the good stuff. Jimin is an oriental lily that grows in the Night Garden, pretty, so pretty that you don't want to touch it. Seokjin is a peach, full and warm, because when he brought you peaches the first time you were in the cell, they saved you from vomiting from hunger. Taehyung is a pomegranate, with hard skin but many, many scattering parts inside. Jungkook turns out to be a papaya, southern sunny fruit that matches his robe in colour. Hoseok is a black pine, traditional, dark, vivid and strict, all soaked in elegance. you wish Namjoon made himself known. you crave to assign a growing thing to him. whether it will be a tree or a flower, or a fruit. you want to see him.

consumed by your thoughts, you stall under a persimmon tree. those are exceptionally stubborn when it comes to shaping, and maybe Yoongi should be a persimmon. you don't know. you hear Jimin's melody for voice first, and only then notice him: he walks into the garden. the afternoon is a little cloudy, although here and there the sunspots fall on the ground. maybe it's a promise of colder weather soon. you raise your head and get back to work, your hands up in the branches, adjusting the straps. persimmons, like tangerines, are barely ripe yet. king and Jungkook step next to Jimin and circle the tiny pond with fishes, and the maknae throws a look at them. comments something about the fish that's floating too fast, in his opinion.

you should make your presence known, probably. what if they have a super secret royal conversation not suitable for your pleb ears. then again, you didn't care before and you don't still. you find out you're still humming under your nose when Jimin, the one with the sharpest ear, warns:

"i think there's a wasp in your garden, Yoongi. i hear the buzzing".

he hums in return. you are covered well by the branches and the other trees.

"are the fishes fed, y/n?" Jungkook asks, raising his voice. at the pace they are strolling through the garden, there's still a good distance between you.

"yes", you yell back.

"yes what?"

"yes, your Royal Monkeyness".

it's quiet for a little bit.

you can hear his chuckle floating through the garden. they walk slowly, taking in the sights, and you wonder if Yoongi is quiet because he is looking for something to pick on. his usual black and golden dragon robe is back on him, contrasting with silky hair. you realize that you never gave it a thought, how he even has this blond hair. fine, this is the Daechwita dimension, but within this world, there must be a reason he is pearl-blond. it's not like anybody else in the whole of Joseon has similar hair. his nephew has his very characteristic curly long black hair. even Jimin's hair looks natural, although there's an unmistakeable glint of dark-purple now that the light shines on his head. face covered with the bluish mask, highlighting the eyes.

"we could clear a spot around here, close to water", Jimin suggests, and you feel your ears turning. even cock your head to see what the fuck they are discussing. the gardens at this point, although it's barely been over a month, feel like your domain. "clearing" spots sounds to you like upturning flower beds or, god forbid, rooting up trees.

"i don't think this garden is big enough. Eastern is better".

"but it might be colder".

"however there's a direct exit inside the corridors with the barn".

Jimin hums in agreement. Yoongi sighs.

"why did you have to bring me anything at all, Jungkook?"

"i haven't sent any presents for your birthday, uncle", Jungkook complains.

"but peacocks?!"

your nostrlis flare slightly. you sigh noisily. the three of them are already relatively close.

"imagine the beautiful birds walking around here when you get up in the morning", Jungkook goes on, "maybe we should put them in the Night Garden".

Jimin produces a protesting whine. you say,

"lilies are poisonous for birds. it's bad enough you treat them as a present, you also want to kill the poor things? use your head a little, i beg you".

they all stand there and look at you, Jungkook munches on your words. and you can swear, he moves his lover lip inwards as if his tongue is searching for a piercing to play with.

"delightful", Yoongi concludes. that warrants and enthusiastic glance from his nephew. Jimin simply tilts his head.

"you know, animals should live in the wild", you continue. one stubborn branch doesn't want to get inside a knot of twine, and you work it with both hands.

"these are just cocks", Jungkook retorts.

"cocks have certain intelligence, feel pain and can experience distress", you hammer. "can't believe i need to explain animal rights in this year of our Chr- , in the middle of nineteenth century".

"peacocks", Jimin inserts, "lack souls for the simple reason of their beauty". you click your tongue, irritated by his willing ignorance, unless he's fucking with you.

“how do you know they’re beautiful?”

“i touched many”

"so, you don't have a soul, either?" maknae replies jokingly. you would've said the same thing if he hadn't outpaced you.

"but you're right", he turns to his uncle. you can see them with your peripheral vision, relaxed, Jimin turning his head to listen to the sounds, and Yoongi stares in front of him. "knowing you, i should've got you a pet cheetah".

"and named him Jason Statham", you advise. Jungkook raises his eyebrows.

"what, you think i can only quote bts songs?" you shake the coil of twine in your hand, finally having tamed the persimmon. "i am a music fan, i'll have you know. i like a lot of different stuff".

"she always speaks so much?"

Jimin sighs, seeing that the king keeps silent.

"you have no idea. when i had to follow her, my head was buzzing at nights".

Jungkook lowers his voice, turns completely to Yoongi and you hear, as you pick up the basket to move it under the cherry tree:

"can i have her as my personal servant while i am here?"

Yoongi chuckles, low:

"no".

your head snaps towards them.

"maknae, you can't handle me".

Yoongi continues, his gaze firm on you, again because he knows that long enough, and you will start fidgeting.

"but you are right about the hands. look how neatly the trees appear this season. and the flowers are still blooming at the beginning of harvest. Jimin, are you seeing it?"

"very funny".

"you should be the royal florist".

your eyes narrow. his stare is a challenge.

"why are you so nice to me?"

he is in such a good mood around his nephew that he grins, squinting one scarred eye:

"scared? it's about to get worse. come to the palace tomorrow morning".

you clutch the basket to yourself, suspicious. Yoongi seemingly loses interest in this conversation, satisfied with the chill order he'd just dropped, and he turns around. Jungkook and Jimin have nothing else to do but follow him back.

"isn't it curious", counselor purrs, his mask turning half-way, "how she constantly names the century we live in?" Yoongi's long earring clicks in response.

next morning, perhaps because you are nervous about what is on king's mind, you oversleep slightly, and Min-ssi oma's stick finds you on your futon. it's not completely late, but usually you prefer to get up before she grasps her treacherous weapon.

you dress up, checking how clean your hanbok is. arms ache because yesterday was the washing day and you are still the courier girl for the washing basket. those who pissed you off, had their dresses dry in the stables again, and are now wandering around, sleepy, confused, around the garden.

you look at yourself in the metal mirror, your face distorted and a bit blurry like you suddenly have a -7 vision. in the palace, mirrors are better and his royal highness definitely knows what he looks like in details. shit, even the swords are better to look into, than these medieval mirrors. a lot of things still feel medieval here, it's another fifty or something years until the fall of Joseon dynasty if you remember correctly; as you assimilate further, surprisingly many facts come up in your head. all thanks to ot7 obsession. speak about how useless it is to be a fan girl.

your hand reaches for the small jar of the crushed berry paste, forgotten by one of the maids here, still open. some of them even do their makeup on a usual working day, hoping to catch a cute royal guard's eye. now you convince yourself that you plunge your finger inside because it's the palace after all. should look formal and all. can't have Hoseok side eye you because you stand out from other staff. uh huh. you pinch and rub your cheeks with the red finger, then add a little to your lips. you make it barely noticeable and leave the mirror without a second look. huh. why do you even have to do it. what is he, the President of America or something.

Jiyoung notices you when you try to sneak away. she always does, her eagle eye trained on you, for everybody's sake. it narrows now, her voice at normal volume because she doesn't know how delicate the matter is. you don't either.

"where do you think you're going?"

"i need uh..." your finger points in the indefinite direction. it's a bad day to decide to yap less. now four, five, and then six faces are turned to you, looking up.

"you need uh?"

"i need to be somewhere".

"yes, in the Western Garden, fertilizing".

her hands are on her hips.

"you don't get to skip like yesterday".

"hey, i did all the persimmon trees yesterday".

"fine, but today it's work as well".

"oh dear", Yu points her finger at you, "oh dear! her cheeks are red. you have been summoned, haven't you?"

the girls step closer to you, staring you in the face.

"it's the Monkey Prince, isn't it? he is known to take anyone, just about anyone..."

your face wrinkles in indignation.

"i have been promoted, okay? i need to go to the palace and... i guess..."

"sure, you have", they giggle, "that's fine. lucky, lucky".

"eugh", your body shudders, "don't even say that. stop. the baby. no. just..." your hands wave in the air.

"you should put ribbons in your hair if you're going to the palace", Jiyoung gives up, laughing. "come here, i will help you".

it takes her a couple of minutes to weave two silky-lilac ribbons into your braids, and even though they belong to her, they match your face.

"if i see Taetae, i will give him your best".

she hums, trying to stay unaffected, but her cheeks take on a little bit of blood, and she looks fantastic. she closes her eyes, nodding, just like her brother does.

"try not to get yourself into the white dungeon".

your head snaps back to her, horrified mouth opens.

"white? what the hell do they do there?"

Jiyoung covers her mouth with her hand and leans back onto the wooden column, trying not to laugh out.

"sorry. sorry. i had to mess with you".

you sigh with relief, move your head around, as the tips of ribbons bounce on your shoulders.

"you look... admissable", she beams.

you turn around, your eye catching the ribbons flying behind, following your head.

"i look like an idiot. y/n-chan? yes? what do you like? mint fucking chocolate".

Jiyoung lets herself go and roars with laughter, looking at what must be a very alien, very barbaric little dance to her. you realize you're stalling, so you take a breath.

"come on, y/n. it's just little meow meow", you grumble, "you've seen him already. nothing special. just don't lose your cool. fighting".

the storks fly over your head in the bright-blue autumn sky. they drift harmoniosuly aloft, red legs visible from the ground. it smells like spices: the smell comes from the market, opening in the morning. you pass by the gate and keep your back straight, humming a melody as usual. it gets easier as you approach the main doors and climb the stairs to the palace. you actually feel cool doing that. yes, if you were to climb these stairs in the very middle every day like king does, you'd also walk like a gangster. upon entering the hall, you meet a guard's terrified eyes:

"why are you taking the royal entrance?" he whispers. you feel annoyance creep up on you immediately.

"how else am i supposed to enter?"

he looks around and shakes his head quickly.

"move, move. your entrance is at the back".

"should've put up a sign or something".

your steps fall softly on the clean wooden floor as you throw your head back to look around. there are so many rooms in this labyrinth-like place; and you've only been in the back corridors and a couple of places in this month. so there's no chance there's even an approximate map of the palace in your head. especially considering the natural topographical stupidity of someone from the modernity. you picture your loyal and pretty IPhone in your palm and sigh, but think going on without it for a while is very good for your mental health.

it must have taken immense talent to built and decorate this palace: every inch of the wall is encrusted with intricate carvings and gilded, or there's a painting, or a murial, and the blues and greens are so vivid that it catches your eye and startles your mind. the images dedicated to the king's conquests, or whatever he does, maybe the defense of his kingdom; blue mountains covered with black pines like those in the garden. imagery of exotic and fierce animals that have his eyes. there's even a huge, muscular tiger on the tapestry hung in the center of the huge hall, that has a scar over his right eye. handsome. you twirl around yourself to look at every little detail, realizing how fundamental it is, that some two hundred years later people like you will stand on the same spot, seeing the copies of these tapestries, admiring the same carvings, having the same thoughts as you. you have no idea where to go next, because this part of the palace is totally unexplored for you. for now, the hall takes all your attention, and your sloth doesn't go unpunished.

General is again like a shadow; you never hear his steps, like he floats above the ground. ever in his black aura, his eyes still cold, although there's no hatred in them anymore which makes it better.

"you are late and in the wrong section of the palace".

he looks at the entrance, blinks once.

"don't tell me you took the royal steps to come here".

you do a bow, putting one foot behind yourself, covering your face with an arm in the round motion. Hoseok doesn't get the reference, naturally.

"do you need an exorcism?"

you drop the act, seeing that nothing impresses him.

"not very i'm your hope of you".

you make the last attempt at softening Hoseok up, pick up the ribbon on your shoulder and make it jump, but he only gets moodier. he motions with his head.

"you are expected in the throne room at first", he's clearly not happy about it. but doesn't say things like 'how did you even get this far'. of course you suspect there's more to Yoongi's decision to put you right here, than just his admiration of the flowers still blooming. it can't be just that his nephew gave him the idea, and he found it genius. Hoseok is on it whatever the reason is, but it's useless trying to get anything out of him. however, annoying him, as he takes you down the royal corridors, gives you a needed release from the morning nervousness.

"how do i look at least?"

he is silent.

"am i about to cause a wreck?"

"are you?" his voice booms in front of you. you try to catch up with his light but quick steps, all the while spinning your head to see as much of the palace as you can.

"i mean i am probably the worst candidate for the royal florist".

"i wholeheartedly agree".

"you are so mean", you sigh, exasperated, losing energy.

"and you, loud".

he takes you through what looks like an armoury quickly, and you don't get to stare for too long. then, through the small door in the side, to the throne room, now empty. you take a few seconds to look around at first, to check for someone's non-obvious presence, then let your eyes get used to the dimmed light.

"is it always so shaded here?"

"almost", this is the first normal thing Hoseok tells you. "flowers wilted".

"that might be the reason", you look into his face with a helping smile, but his eyes are wandering around the room. he looks a little hesitant, then produces:

"do i need to tell you, do not touch anything. focus on work".

the said work takes your mind pretty quickly. you walk over to the nearest wall with the dried display. the state of the light in here is such that you didn't even notice flowers when you were here before.

"the previous florist did a really lousy job", you conclude, "chrysanthemums? for Yoongi? in autumn?"

General nods.

"the previous florist has been executed".

your head turns to him, amalgamating with the shadows. only his pale face contrasts. your mouth is slightly ajar.

"he reported, happily. you are the arsonist jack in the box, aren't you? blade always thisty for blood?"

his glossy eyes measure you carefully for a moment, then he leaves. good convo.

taglist: @cerulean1riz , @kiki-zb , @mar-lo-pap , @ashyiiy , @enfppuff , @coolpeanutskeletonpersona

[caffeineaddictedturtle]

Is this what you call self-care?

idol!Felix × afab!Reader genre: fluff, slice of life, established relationship warning(s): usage of curse words, no beta we die like man an: i explain it here

It was a regular Saturday for you, waking up at 6 AM and feeling your boyfriend's arm around you. After you turn your alarm off, you turn to look at him, smiling. His long, blond hair fell into his angelic face. It is so hard to not say fuck it and stay in bed with Felix, but you—with the smallest of movements to not wake him—get out of bed, making your way to the bathroom to get ready. After you get yourself into some comfy stay-at-home-and-study clothes, you brew yourself a cup of coffee with some coconut milk.

You've been researching for your midterm paper for a while now. It wasn't the worst topic, but selecting what's important and what isn't is where you were hopeless.

After restarting it for the hundredth time, you heard movements from your bedroom. You peeked out of the study/gaming room to see Felix's tired face, which filled your heart with warmth. "Good morning, love. How did you sleep?" He looked back at you while he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "I slept well until some gremlin left from next to me way too early this morning." A smile crept up his face, reaching out for your hand so he could pull you in for a hug. He kept you close with one hand, resting his face on your head while you hid in the crook of his neck. His sweet scent filling your nose. "How's your university work going?" you scrunch your face, not even wanting to think about the research and writing your essay. "Well, I read a lot, but I do not know where to begin or what things are the necessities to put into my paper." You felt yourself wanting to throw a tantrum like the 5-year-old who you are at heart. He kissed your forehead, then put his pinky out. "Okay, I have a trade offer; once you're halfway done, we can play on our farm together." Your eyes lit up. You've been pretty hooked on Stardew Valley for a while now, especially since the new update, and you got Felix to play with you on his days off. Sadly, they've been pretty busy with their comeback, so you couldn't hang out as much. He usually got home by the time you were asleep, and you went to class or to the library to learn before he woke up, since it was soon time for your final exams. You only have one year back from your university, and you don't want setbacks, so it is important to get a good grade. Your parents would be pleased as well since you flew to another city to learn specifically there, so you want to make them proud. You link your pinkies together to form an unbreakable promise. "Okay, but no distractions! If you want to play, please play in the living room; we both know I won't ever finish my assignment with you distracting me." He chuckles and nods his head in agreement. You happily made yourself another cup of coffee, then went back to the study to work on your task. You still cannot believe it that you somehow snagged such a perfect man: he is supportive, understands your concerns, and can always accept your compromises. He openly talks to you about how he feels and bravely tells you if something bothers or concerns him. You honestly can't believe these past couple years have been real.

You've made a bit of progress; it helped that you talked with your old dorm roommates—you moved in with Felix about half a year now; you two realized that it would be the easiest since you went over any given chance anyways. They gave some good suggestions. Once you caught up with each other, you four said your goodbyes, since all of you have a lot of work to get done by the end of this month. After some time, you smelled a sweet scent coming from the kitchen. The door opened before you could sneak out to have a peek. Felix brought in your favorite cookies; it was a mixture of his classic chocolate chip and your oatmeal cookies recipe. You two perfected it while he got some time off, and you didn't have school just yet. His brown eyes looked at you proudly behind the plate of cookies with milk in his other hand. "How's your progress, baby?" He bent down to give you a peck on the lips. You waited until he put the plate and the cup down, then patted the ground next to you, signaling for him to sit down. He didn't waste any seconds, and plopped right next to you, happy that he could sit beside his girlfriend. Felix didn't want to make you feel pressured; he just wants to spend as much time as possible with you before he has to go back to endless dance practice, content creation, etcetera. You both know he loves doing what he does, but it can get overwhelming sometimes. They got cussed out a lot for the smallest of things, getting bullied and going as far as getting death treats. He was grateful for being able to work his dream job, and he is also happy that you understand what this kind of life comes with.

Felix watched you type your thoughts out in your document and started to play with your hair, which made you relax instantly. You couldn't help but melt into his touch. You leaned onto his shoulder, feeling exhausted. "I am almost done with half of my assignment; I just need another page, but I feel like my brain cells are giving up on me." He chuckled, placing a kiss on your head. "You got this; I believe in you." He started giving kisses all around your face, which soothed your tired thoughts. Felix eventually kissed your lips; the kiss was sweet and made you feel like you're under the sun at the beginning of the spring. You reciprocated immediately, feeling as though time had stopped—no tasks, no school, no pressure—just you and him tangled together in a complete state of Nirvana. Before it could get heated, Lixie pulled away, holding you firmly, so he kept up his strenght to not distract you further. "Is it okay if I play Zelda while I lay in your lap?" You saw a hint of pink on his face, making you smile. "Well, I am close to finishing it, so why not? I don't think it can cause any harm." Felix got up excitedly to get his switch with his headphones. He laid down and got comfortable, then started playing his game. He has been quite into it lately. The game was beautiful, and there were a lot of things to do. The excitement in him got you into playing it, asking for his help in some harder situations.

When you got done with half of your paper, you looked down and saw a sleeping Felix with a gaming console on the ground next to him. He looked so peaceful like this: his pink lips parted, his eyelashes casting shadows on his face, and his freckles painting constellations onto his features. You can't help but start connecting the dots on his face with your fingers, making his eyes flutter as he awakens. "What are you doing, gorgeous?" You lean down to kiss him as a response. You feel like you're going to explode with all the feelings inside your chest. "I am done with half of my paper; I didn't want to wake you, sorry." You pout just a little, earning a smile as he reaches for your face to caress it. "That's my good girl. Are you ready for some farming time?" You nod, knowing that you're going to end up either playing until the sun gets up again or none at all and will end up cuddling in bed.

You two made some lunch and plopped down besides each other. Your desks have been set against one another, his PC taking up one desk while yours is cluttered by notes and books for your university courses; you just keep pushing it back each time you take your laptop out instead of organizing it. Felix tried to reason with you or help with that mess, but that's how you were, looking unorganized yet knowing exactly what is where, always on point. That's what your grades always reflect: perfect or almost perfect scores, even though you procrastinate until the last minute. He smiled to himself, knowing how he and the boys wished they had this superpower.

You put on your two's favorite chill playlist and booted up the game. We made a lot of progress, stopping to occasionally show physical affection for each other or taking a quick bathroom or snack break. I didn't even notice how the time flied until you looked down on your watch, seeing that it had passed five a.m. "Yongbok, we have a problem. Have you checked the time?" He has been so into the game that he almost looked up into the corner to see the in-game time, realizing that this might become a problem in the future. "Oh shit, I didn't notice when it got this late. I mean, I am going to be okay; I won't work for a couple of days now, but when do you need to send this assignment in?" he asked, knowing damn well that you have a habit of sending in your tasks with one minute left on the clock, giving him a scare. One time, Chan got to see your study progress and felt his soul leave his body. He still remembers how he and Han watched how their leader scolded you about your academics and your attitude towards your learning, painting a picture of an overworked father lecturing his rebellious daughter, who—no matter what she's doing—will always be his treasure. It never got said out loud, but you became the younger sister of the group, with all the older members looking out for your happiness and safety. And Felix isn't sure that if you two ever break up—which, let's face it, is highly unlikely—he wouldn't get the shorter stick and wouldn't get scolded.

Once you two saved and logged off for the day, got ready for bed, you snuggled close to each other leaving sweet kisses on one another, fighting the strong urge to sleep. When he heard your breathing change, he knew that you were fast asleep, what he waited for all along. It makes him happy and calm, knowing you are asleep. He pressed a light kiss on your forehead.

"Good night, my love," and with that, he dozed off to sleep as well.

masterlist ║request something

[icarianlibrary]

Oh yeah, some more for y'all (QUICK TW!! Literally all of these quotes are said by 12-17 year olds. They're gonna be unhinged, and some of them may be a bit offensive if you squint. There are also mentions of suicide, WW2, domestic abuse, & homophobia. None of it is meant in malicious intent, middle/highschoolers just don't have a filter)

Nico: "You aren't invited to my Serbia themed birthday party"

Will: "His weakness is being a liberal"

Nico: "They need to raise the price of monsters dawg I’m buying it every minor inconvenient assignment"

Leo: "It's okay, I can say that, my cousin's autistic"

Leo: "Yaoi is magic"

Piper: "I submitted five page Genshin smut to my creative writing teacher, got an A+, and said "I can imagine the characters saying this"

Leo: "I love Batman, he's my baby girl"

Percy: "Batman would adopt spiderman the MINUTE he found out he's an orphan with superpowers"

(The next three are from the same convo)

Leo: "God is always with us" 

Annabeth: "I thought you were a scientologist"

Leo: "Oh- Uh I mean our glorious diety, he is always with us. I mean- Uh They- They/Them is always with us"

Magnus (I know he isn't, but I feel like he would say this) "Oh yeah!! You thought, you thought you could discriminate against me because I'm straight"

IDK HELP??: "The people who weren't Nazis in Germany were the minority, and were they wrong??"

Random Hermes Kid: "I wrote the poem 'The Raven', and cut out the last two lines because my dad died, Edgar literally copied me"

Percy (Before his amnesia wearied off): "Who's Leo, who's Annabeth??? I'm a Gemini??"

Will: "That's like colonization, and that's kinda wrong" - *This was said in an actual PF debate in Speech & Debate)

Alex: "We'll like cut open their brains and go "Why is it rainbow in there??" - My friend watching me read Webtoon

Leo: "I am Kanye West's campaign president"

Leo: "What's it called? PRIDE and prejudice?" - My friend after asking what my book was about and I said "Gay people"

Alex: "I need her to get diagnosed with seasonal depression, it's BAD"

Lester: "There's no way anyone in this story is straight" - My friend talking about Jackson's Diary

*The next three are in the same convo)

Annabeth: "Nevertheless is a conjunctive adverb-"

Percy: "THAT'S SO GAY."

Leo: "Do you want to know the three most prideful words in the English language? Gay, Homosexual, Nevertheless."

Any demigod coming from a house with a different belief system: "I'm like a bisexual when it comes to religion"

Piper: "I was having social anxiety over Ao3"

Percy: "Burning question: do bi ppl exist irl?😭💀 or is it just me💀"

Leo: "And on the 3rd day, God created homosexuals"

Percy: "If I took AP or IB, which one would colleges think are more sexy?" - (I have to emphasize that this was TO A TEACHER.)

Leo: "Math is like a dystopian society"

Piper: "boys are supposed to ruin your lipstick, not you mascara”

Leo: *Touches his friend* "Now you have an STD"

Gabe: "I downloaded an AI girlfriend app and started beating women"

(The next two are in the same convo)

Leo: "Brodie, let's makeout together under the sunset"

Jason: "Stfu gay boy"

Piper talking about Percy: "Saw a guy earlier go to serve in volleyball and yell out to his girlfriend "this one's for you!" then proceed to serve the ball straight into the net"

Leo (Ifykyk): "He's in LOVE with superman?!? And I'm not judging, I am too"

(The next two are in the same convo)

Frank: "What's your 6th & 7th period?" 

leo: "Beatboxing" *Proceeds to beatbox so horriblly, eminem could make a distract to it*

Nico: "Never thought they could make suicide hot, but here we are"

Frank: "My birthday wish is being Amish"

(The next two are in the same convo)

Percy: "And you have crendle disorder" (Talking about the character from clarence)

Nico: "You're not allowed to say that word Infront of me anymore :("

Piper: "Literally every man in a 200 mile radius is the reason I'm not bisexual"

Some hermes camper probably: "Spider-Man makes me jerk"

PJO characters as stuff me & my friends have said

Piper: "I'd marry canes if they were a person"

Leo: "Dang it! I was crossing my d-"

Percy: "For the longest time I thought British people were a ploy to get us to be grateful for our seasoned food"

Jason: "Leo, we're not that stupid" Leo: "Well I am! I am stupidity!"

Reyna: "I am going to commit an Achilles." Nico: "Date Patroclus?" Reyna: "I was more thinking killing ten thousand Greeks, but that works too"

Leo: "Jason is alpha"

Piper: "LEO SUPPORTING WOMEN IS NOT OKAY"

Will: "Mr bean is a slay queen"

Piper: "Don't worry, Jason, I accept you and how gay you are for literally everyone in the MCU" [OG quote was about me w/ PJO…]

Annabeth: "Well in that case I love being manipulative?"

Hazel: "Henry Cavil is like 45 but I'd get on my knees"

Will: "Every fine guy is old"

Octavian: "How tf are you bi and aroace??" Leo: "With gods, everything is possible"

Piper: "Now I'm a homewrecker slut"

[n1k0laa5]

Redirect everything towards your desires.. just because you can.

This is pretty simple and a nice technique for those who doubt a lot—I like to pair this up with a pair of specific affirmations and breathing in and out. My affirmations often times for me were like an interruption to doubts.

These were the exact ones;

“Worries don’t manifest.”

“Negative thoughts and unwanted thoughts don't manifest.”

“Doubts don't manifest.”

“Fears don't manifest.”

“What ifs don't manifest.”

“Opposing thoughts don't manifest.”

“There's no such thing as what ifs or even ifs because that would mean it has an option of not happening when it's already happened.”

“Intrusive thoughts don't manifest.”

“Anxiety never manifests.”

“Anything I don't want to happen never happens—it doesn't have the power to manifest.”

“This is not my story.”

“I do not accept this.”

(Both last ones were for doubts.)

And yes, you may think these are excessive. But, I would only use them the moment I felt an ounce of doubt come up. I didn’t scroll through Tumblr or look for validation, I affirmed, persisted and distracted.

Now onto our actual topic;

Redirecting everything is something that can be done casually or have some thought put into it.

For example: you’re manifesting or attempting to shift, and suddenly your 3D shows you something that badly contradicts it. You can either affirm that your 3D is temporary OR you can redirect it.

“This is just my 3D acting up, before something dies, it gets stronger one last time. This is proof my 3D is changing.”

Or, if that didn’t necessarily make sense or you’re not one to have time to put thought into it..

“This proves I have my desire / I have shifted.”

That’s it.

You don’t need external validation. You don’t need anything. You need redirection.

Doubts? It proves you have your desire and you’ve shifted.

Worries? You have your desire and you’ve shifted.

Any emotion ever? Any thoughts from your ego telling you it’s not working? Everytime you cry or react?

IT PROVES YOU HAVE SHIFTED AND HAVE YOUR DESIRES.

It doesn’t need to make sense.

You are God. You decide if it makes sense. You decide what’s possible, you decide what works, you assign meaning and power to everything.

And if you decide your doubts and spiraling have zero power over your desires—it now has zero effect.

You can spiral. You can doubt. You can cry while eating five buckets of icecream and scream about how tired you are. Don’t repress your emotions.

Because after that; you’ll decide to redirect everything to work out in your favor.

Because that’s what God does.

[misc-obeyme]

hello!! knock knock!! 👁‍🗨 is here to request something!!

I wonder how the brothers would feel towards an mc that bites them out of nowhere. not in a kinky way, but in a way to release their stress? lololol pretty self indulgent but sometimes my energy goes towards my mouth instead of my limbs so i would hopelessly bite the air to release some energy ⚡

i do imagine it being sudden since i imagine my mc to be the type to just hold (biting their own nails, sleeves, etc), but it's totally up to you!

Ohhh heeyy there, 👁‍🗨 anon!! Sorry this is sooo late hopefully you're still around to see it 😩

Anyway, I hope this is kind of what you were meaning? It's a short little scene but it has all the brothers (though only two of them get bitten lol).

MC & all the bros

Warnings: none though there is some biting obviously and just the usual brotherly antics

It had been a long day at RAD, as usual. Not only did you have your hands full keeping the brothers in line as usual, but you had also had to prevent Solomon from getting involved in a cooking assignment in home economics. Not to mention the piles of homework and upcoming tests that were looming. You were a bit stressed, but you were doing your best to keep it all under control.

Thankfully, it wasn't your night to help make dinner or clean up. So you had a moment to sit at the table with the brothers, satisfied with the food that Satan had made.

Lucifer was currently lecturing Belphegor, who had fallen asleep in his pancakes that morning and who was not listening now, while Asmo and Levi were having a lively discussion about the aesthetics of DevilTube streamers. The discussion was beginning to escalate into something closer to an argument, but you tried to keep your focus on your food.

Biting into your black tapir helped a bit, but it wasn't enough. You felt the energy building inside of you at the continued noise.

When you couldn't contain yourself anymore, you turned to the brother nearest to you and bit down on his arm.

"Ow! What're ya doin', MC!"

It turned out that Mammon was the recipient of your random need to bite and he was currently trying to shake you off of him.

Asmo's attention left Levi entirely as he giggled. "Shouldn't you save that kind of behavior for the bedroom, MC?"

Beel, who was sitting on your other side, leaned over the table to look at you better. "I think they're just hungry."

"How can they be hungry when there's a plate of dinner sitting right in front of them?" Satan asked, gesturing to the plate that indeed still had quite a bit of that evening's meal on it.

"Haven't you ever gotten hungry while you were eating?" Beel asked.

"No, Beel," Belphie said. "Most people don't know what that's like."

Beel seemed confused. "Then what is going on with MC?"

You listened to this conjecture, but you didn't feel as though you had the presence of mind to let go just yet. So of course you couldn't answer their questions when your mouth was full.

"It seems to be a stress response," Lucifer said.

All the other brothers looked at him in surprise.

Lucifer frowned and folded his arms. "Don't look at me like that," he said. "I've learned a lot about humans since MC has come to stay with us. My understanding is that sometimes when they're stressed, they release that stress in unusual ways. Just let MC bite you, Mammon."

Mammon had stopped trying to dislodge you. He pointed across the table at Asmo. "If you and Levi hadn't been arguin' this never woulda happened!"

"You can't blame us!" Asmo said.

"Yeah!" Levi put in. "How do you know it wasn't Lucifer's droning lecture about not falling asleep in your food?"

As they devolved into further arguing, Mammon whimpered a bit as you clamped down a little harder.

"Stop arguin'!" he yelled. "You're makin' it worse!"

Everyone fell silent.

Beel put a hand on your shoulder. "It's okay, MC," he said. "If you need to bite someone, you should bite me. I have plenty of muscle, I won't even feel it."

"Are ya callin' me scrawny?" Mammon mumbled.

You considered this and realized Beel was probably right. You closed your eyes, tried to calm down a bit, and then released Mammon.

"Hey, I'm free!" he cried.

You sighed and leaned back in your chair. "Sorry," you said. "There's just been a lot going on lately."

"There, you see?" Lucifer said. "It was stress, as I said."

"Do you feel better now, MC?" Beel asked.

You frowned a little. "A bit, but…"

Beel was already rolling up his sleeve. He pointed at his arm. "This is the best spot," he said.

You almost laughed at his sincerity, but it also made you feel cared for. You bit down and he didn't even flinch.

It became an accepted thing. Now that they knew about this tendency of yours to decompress through biting, their main reaction to getting bitten was to worry about you. And Beel was always prepared to give a you a little snack, too, as he insisted it would help. And if you were honest, it usually did.

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[pushspacetocontinue]

"Yeah, that's true," Travis agreed.

But it seemed that he had gotten the hint about what Willow was getting at.

"Heh, you can say that again," Travis said, "You got Martin with his voluntary work and finding a place that assigns therapy animals to people and the camping he likes doing, you got Truman with his film directing and love of theatre, you got Simon with his computer work, you got Bradley with his teaching and his nutritional knowledge, David with his farming and the love of the sea, me with the fitness talk and dancing skills, and Custard with his love of space, gaming and drums."

And of course, if Lewis was still here, his carpentry, his love for birds, and all the things he said to bring hope to others.

"Oh I didn't know that," Travis said. It was good to know it wasn't from some horrible injury at least, "But I'm glad that doing that didn't cause any notable drawbacks."

Travis smiled again then.

"And we're all thankful too," Travis said, before he then nodded, "All right, on we go."

With that, he started to follow Willow's directions as she gave them.

"Y-yeah, I, I can only imagine," Russell said, as he glanced around once more. He was also trying not to imagine it too hard, "Or, or your footsteps or, or just any-anything you, you might have said, said out loud."

If the volume had been just that little bit loud enough at least.

"But you made it work," Simon said, "And that's impressive. You made it habitable so you don't go completely insane when you have to do something in here."

Antonio's ear twitched at that.

"I'm surprised it didn't do it anyway," Antonio jokingly said, "With all the sassy energy I was most likely emitting while in here."

Leofric nodded.

"Yes, that makes a lot of sense," Leofric agreed, "And I will say that that impresses me further. Not that you need my approval of course. I just wanted to say it."

Antonio looked down at the coin he had picked up, and then back at Rook.

"Then I will make sure to take very good of it," Antonio replied with a small smile, as he placed into the chest pocket of his coat for the moment. He would find a better place for it when he got home.

"Oh he does," Leofric said, "And he really enjoyed creating some useful items with you back before we planned and carried out today's endeavours. Perhaps he might like to do that again."

"Thanks, Rook," Simon said.

"Y-yes, th-thank you," Russell said, before the blush on his cheeks darkened a bit at that comment, but he seemed to find the humour in at the very least, "Heh, m-maybe. I, I can't say I've, I've really felt the, the need to work out why. I'm, I'm just happy."

"That sounds like a good idea," Leofric said.

It seemed that Bill had indeed about to land as Rook had predicted. He had actually come to enjoy the experience, not that he was going to say that out loud in case Veronica decided he needed some kind of worse punishment.

But he had ended up not sticking the landing and completely falling flat on his face when everyone else arrived. But Bill still had to try and play it cool as he got himself stood up.

"Well, that was quite the trip, wasn't it?" he said with a grin, "How was yours?"

"I sure hope so. Things start going bad when we don't care anymore what happens to children."

"It must be quite interesting whenever you and the rest of your brothers meet up. With such a wide array of professions, you may never be at risk of running out of conversation topics." Willow chimed in. It was a touchy matter for Erica and she didn't want her to upset herself with the current topic too much.

"We have to take turns and there's just four of us!" The trick had worked perfectly. "Well, I didn't feel much pain as a zombie, but elves like me are just born with a hollow back. I don't know what it was for, it didn't really do anything. So I let Willow get rid of it."

"It was merely an aesthetic change that didn't interfere with Erica's magical affinity, as we have now confirmed."

"Yeah, it's no big deal." Erica reassured, "But I guess that's why we didn't know about it. I'm glad Rook met Russell, though. We wouldn't know all of you guys if she hadn't!"

"And for that, we're both thankful."

Erica nodded fiercely at Willow's words, before looking ahead. "I think I've seen this part of the city before."

Right on cue, Willow started giving out directions.

"I had to do it for my own peace of mind. Imagine dropping anything in here. The noise will bounce back and forth for days." Rook said, before eyeing Antonio, "And I had to think of my guests. After all, if you're too sassy while in the void, the void will eventually sass you back."

Luckily, there weren't signs so far of the pocket having any level of awareness. Perhaps its artificial nature meant it'd never fully go beyond reacting to the presence of those tied to it.

"Oh, I really panicked at first." Rook admitted, "Because I kinda sneaked in to see where mum was going and I got left behind. But then I just got bored of the panic and started poking around again. I guess it's just the effect this place has on you after you've been here for a while."

It did help that after a while it occurred to her she wasn't feeling hungry or tired. Not being directly affected by the passing of time while being in that glorified broom closet took part of the urgency away.

"Alchemy and herbalism are different disciplines. The ability to directly control the temperature and intensity of our fire is however a major advantage." Veronica replied, "I wouldn't mind sharing some of my knowledge on the subject. It can be very useful at times."

It wasn't just good for creating huge piles of precious items they could treat like Lego, after all. Rook was glad to see her gift was being appreciated.

"Anything for my big bro. But that coin you picked," She paused to point at it, "that's a lucky one."

She proceeded to pass more pouches around, even holding one up so it could be stored in the drone for the time being. They'd figure out a way to get it over to Simon's place later.

"Thanks, Leofric." She offered a second bag, "I can't wait to see what he'll make with these. It seems like he really likes smithing."

"I'm no expert, but I'll do my best with it." Lucien said, standing up, "Russell deserves to have something that shines at least half as much as him."

Rook rolled her eyes, "You guys are so mushy. I bet it's all those sweets you two eat."

Still, she was very happy for what Russell and Lucien had going for themselves. It was clear it made both happy and that was all that mattered.

"Well, let's catch up with Bill. He should be almost at the exit by now."