#I JUST DON'T HAVE THE FOCUS FOR IT RIGHT NOW

[autisticmudkip]

Please don't vote without sharing!

Right now, my friend Ibrahim Aburakhia @aburakhiaibrahim is suffering from an allergic reaction to chemicals in the bombs the IOF has been dropping on Ghazzah. His hands and arms are painfully swollen and irritated. The reaction has been causing Ibrahim a lot of pain, and keeps spreading through his body. Unfortunately, Ibrahim isn't even able to focus on getting treatment and recovering, as the situation him and his family are in is dire.

Prices for basic food and water in Ghazzah are extremely high. Ibrahim's family of 28 people are living on the brink of starvation, unable to get the food they need. Donations to their campaign have been slow, making it even harder for them to purchase food.

The Aburakhia family has a chance to escape the nightmare they are living through. They have been approved for family reunification to join relatives in Canada, who they have not gotten to see in years. However, before they can do so, they have to leave Ghazzah through the crossing and reach Egypt. Unfortunately, passing the crossing can cost up to $5,000 per person, and saving money is difficult when even a bag of flour can cost hundreds of dollars in Ghazzah.

$15,423 / $30,000 CAD

Even after raising funds for over a year, Ibrahim has only reached about half of his total goal. This isn't nearly enough for his family to survive right now, let alone evacuate and reach safety.

Ibrahim just wants for him and his family to survive. That should not be too big an ask. I ask you to share and donate. Please, support the Aburakhia family in whatever way you can!

Vetted here by @/gaza-evacuation-funds

Vetted #336 on this list by nabulsi, el-shab-hussein, and Mohammed Ayesh

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[silkensago]

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ jason todd x fem reader. fluff & comfort. ⭑ some people just can’t take a hint. your boyfriend (bodyguard) comes to your rescue.

“I have a boyfriend,” you say. For at least the fifteenth time. You’re getting tired of counting.

The guy who’s been hitting on you for the past ten minutes while you wait smirks. Gross.

“Bet he doesn’t treat you right.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. As if. Just flat-out leaving the café right now sounds really, really tempting. But you also just paid for your drink, and you really, really don’t feel like abandoning it because some weirdo with no self-awareness can’t handle being rejected.

A voice cuts in, flat. Dangerous.

“She literally had pancakes in bed this morning. Talk to my girl again, and I’ll cut your tongue off.”

You bite your lip to hide the rush of relief that spreads through your chest.

Jason.

You forgot you were sharing your location with him. Of course he’d notice when your order took ten minutes instead of six.

You’re mentally doodling little hearts around his name as your beautiful, big, grumpy, scary dog of a boyfriend steps into place beside you like your personal bodyguard, hand sliding around your waist—warm and sure, grounding you.

It’s possessive, but not like the way strangers look at you. Not expectant or entitled. His touch says I’ve got you. Like he already knows your worth and never needed you to earn it. Never looked at you and thought prove it. He just sees you. All of you.

You’re not just someone pretty to look at, not just a face.

Someone he loves in all your quiet, tired, messiness. No less breathtaking when your hair’s unbrushed and your makeup's off, and your socks don’t match, and you say something incredibly nerdy that makes him roll his eyes fondly and you forget how to make eye contact.

Someone who stays in his chest long after you’ve walked away, leaving him for work with the ghost of your kiss and lip gloss on his cheek, needing to be on your tiptoes to even reach him, even in heels which he always teases you for.

You’re someone to come home to. Someone whole and infinite and more.

“Was wondering where you were.” Jason mutters. His voice is calm, but you can feel the tension humming under his skin, sharp as a drawn wire, as his hand settles firmly over your lower back—right where the guy’s eyes had been.

The creep mutters something and slinks off, at least he had the awareness to sense danger. He’s lucky Jason doesn’t even spare him a second glance.

His focus is on you.

You’re still standing too still. Your fingers locked too tight around the cup of your drink. You haven’t taken a single sip.

Jason tilts his head and lowers his voice. “You okay?”

He rubs slow, small circles on your back, and some of the pressure inside you finally starts to ease. Your shoulders sag a little more.

"Maybe I shouldn't have worn this today."

You glance down at your outfit, fidgeting with the hem. You had felt cute, when you put it on at least. Now you just feel small. Exposed.

Jason’s hand stills, then smooths down your spine with deliberate care. 

"No," he says firmly. "You look beautiful. Don't ever let some asshole's behavior make you question that. You're not the problem, sweetheart—they are." 

After all the stares that make you want to crawl out of your own skin, his hand feels like water over flame. Quiet. Steady. Like he’s cleansing you of every word, every glance, every inch of attention that never came with the kindness that you deserved.

You nod. Then shake your head. The laugh that slips out is small. Fragile.

“No matter how many times this happens,” you say, “I can never get used to it.”

Jason’s eyes soften.

His hand rises to your cheek, brushing along your jaw with careful fingers like he’s afraid to hurt you even by accident.

“Baby,” he murmurs. “Baby. You shouldn’t have to. Look at me."

You hesitate, then look up at him.

His eyes—a gorgeous clear, deep teal—meet yours, steady and soft. His gaze quiets the noise in your head. There’s no judgment there. No pressure. Just him, looking at you. Because you’re the most important thing in the room.

“This isn't your fault,” he says gently, thumb stroking your cheek.

Your lips twitch. “Mhm.”

Jason shakes his head a little, and leans in just enough for his forehead to almost touch yours.

“I want you to say it with me, sweetheart,” he says.

You take a shaky breath. Your voice is quiet, but there. “This isn't my fault.”

“That’s my girl.”

The corner of his lip quirks up in a proud little smile just for you.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” he says.

“You’re here now,” you whisper.

Jason leans in and kisses your forehead. 

“Damn right I am.”

He glances toward the door the guy vanished through, then back at you.

“If he even looks at you again,” he says, voice low, “he’s not walking. Like, ever.”

You huff a soft laugh, the first real one, and he smiles at the sound.

Jason wraps an arm around your shoulders this time—holding you close, not just guarding you, but keeping you warm. You bury your face in his chest and let his comforting scent wash over you. The smell of home.

He nudges you gently toward a table, like he’s steering a ship back to harbor.

“Come on, sit. Drink your sugary, overpriced caffeine. I’ll be right here the whole time."

You sit, finally, and Jason doesn’t let go. His thigh brushes yours under the table. His hand stays tucked around the back of your chair.

You sip your drink slowly. It's lukewarm by now, but somehow still tastes better than it would’ve without him next to you. His leg is pressed to yours under the table, solid and steady. Like an anchort, keeping you from drifting too far out.

Jason’s thumb brushes the back of your hand where it rests on the table, slow and absent like he’s not even thinking about it—but you know he is. Jason thinks about everything. Especially you.

“I like your socks,” he says after a while. Voice low, coaxing. “The little strawberries. That’s new.”

You glance down. Smile faintly. “Bought them last week.”

He hums, leaning in until his shoulder brushes yours. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve worn mine too.”

“You don’t have strawberry socks.”

“Don’t underestimate how far I’d go to match you.”

The laugh you let out comes from your chest this time. A real one. You lean your head against his shoulder, and he shifts just slightly to let you settle there.

When you finish your drink, Jason takes the empty cup from your hands and tosses it for you.

“You ready to go?”

You nod, still leaning into him. “Only if we can stop to get books at the library.”

His hand finds yours again. Squeezes. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

And for the first time that morning, you feel safe again.

[ao3commentoftheday]

I don’t seem to know how to write fic without being mean to the characters. There was a time when I could write fluff, non-angsty slice-of-life, and so on, but now I don’t seem to be able to tell a story without SOMETHING that hurts them.

I’ve had a lot of mental health issues in the intervening years, which I’m sure is related to the why, but doesn’t answer the what or how. It’s a problem because it’s led to me no longer being able to show my partners hardly any of my writing (a lot of dead doves hanging about, which isn’t something they can really stomach). It bothers me that I can’t share my creativity with people I care about.

Do you have any tips for lightening up, or where to find nice wholesome ideas that might spark some joy?

I don’t want to stop writing fucked-up stuff entirely, I just want to find my “nice voice” again.

*hugs* I get it, anon. Sometimes the things that we want to write aren't things we want to share - or at least, not with certain people.

I think a good first step to branching out from your current writing focus is considering what it is about this type of story that's appealing to you right now.

Do you want to make someone else experience a kind of pain or suffering that you've suffered? Pain is a lot easier to manage when you aren't doing it alone.

Do you want to feel a sense of control over someone else's fate? This can be a big comfort when you either didn't have control of your own or you feel as if control is currently slipping out of your grasp.

Do you want the catharsis of seeing someone survive the impossible? It can be extremely satisfying to watch someone claw their way out of the worst situation you can imagine. They get to be the hero in the end. They get to survive.

Do you want to feel a different kind of catharsis? Like the release of emotion that comes with a character's death? Whether they find peace in that moment or whether it's also a torment, it's still a release in the end.

These are just a handful of reasons why you might be writing these kinds of stories right now, and I'm glad you don't want to stop. They are important to you, and even if your partners don't have the same interest that's okay.

You might still be able to share your existing stories if you give your partners a version with the particularly dead doves removed and replaced with a summary, like [Character is tortured until they reveal the secret location. They are left beaten and barely alive.] Then they can pick the story back up after that point.

Of course, if you're writing shorter works then that might not be possible. One way to get back to "nicer" stories that are also on the shorter side could be to write hurt/comfort. You could still get some of what you need by hurting the characters, but then your partners would get the wholesomeness you're looking for when another character takes care of the one you've hurt.

I'll leave it here for now and open it up to ideas from the blog. I know how tough it can be when you want to share something you love with someone you love, and I hope we can get you back to being able to do that.

[manifestingitgurlll]

the biggest advice i would say for manifesting is to completely ignore the physical. like every single aspect of it. dont think about how it conforms. dont think about when it'll conform. dont even think about the fact that its an illusion. JUST DONT THINK ABOUT IT.

i say this because once you start showing any attention to the physical, you can easily find yourself sliding right back into identifying with ego once again, without even realizing.

you think you're innocently thinking about the physical like "oh yeah i know its not real! ego will see it eventually."

then next thing you know, you're watching the physical like a hawk thinking "when is it gonna see it? why hasn't it seen it? do i not actually know??" and now you've gone right back to identifying with the wrong story 😭

these subtle shifts in mindset, i feel, is what causes a lot of us to have those experiences of manifesting for a "long time," and you feel like you're doing everything right but still nothing.

yes, you should know that the physical conforms instantly, and your ego will recognize it. but it shouldn't be your MAIN focus. it should just be a silent knowing in the back of your head yk? like a core concept.

instead, come into manifesting knowing that you're not a physical being! that you're just consciousness, and bcs of that, the physical has nothing to do with you!! it should be literally meaningless to you. if it conforms, ok. if it doesn't conform, also ok. neither should matter to you!

you gotta stop looking at it, stop paying attention to it, stop giving it importance. just act as if its not even there.

and this doesn't mean don't do what you gotta do in the physical, do it. just remember you're playing a role. you're acting. ITS NOT YOU.

[runningracingdancingchasing]

She'd imagined sitting him down on the couch, maybe with some alcohol to make it all easier, imagined the lighting and how it would play on his features. But now they were in the kitchen, and the lighting was completely different, harsh and bright in comparison to her imagination. Well, that was on her. She was the one who'd started the conversation now instead of later.

Clearing her throat again, she found it hard to find her words, and even harder to look at him.

"I've been rehearsing this all day," she confessed with a little smile that didn't reach haunted eyes, toying with her own fingers while wishing she had Abraçinhos to hug. But he was in the living room, on the couch, where she'd meant to have this conversation. "But I can't seem to remember how it was going to go. Sorry if I'm about to ramble..."

Taking a deep breath, she thought through all of the myriad of rehearsals she'd gone through, then picked a place and started. Managing to look at him for a moment, she iterated, "Just know that I'm telling you this because you're my best friend and I trust you." That was very important. It was easy for Rapunzel to love. She loved her friends almost right away. But trusting people wasn't so simple. That probably had something to do with what she was about to tell him...

Okay, here we go. Just breathe and... start. "Okay, so the thing is... I can't remember anything about my past up until a few years ago," she explained softly, "and that's by design. Something... happened when I was little. I'm not sure exactly what, but I know it was traumatic. My therapist thought -- and I agree -- that if I want to function as an adult, I had to lock it all away. It was really the only way to move forward. But that's why there are things that basically everyone knows that I don't know anything about. Which is so frustrating and embarrassing, because I'm usually so smart!"

Even talking about it now, she could feel that locked closet of memories getting banged on from the inside, and her shame from not knowing how schools worked. Her focus started turning inward, a slippery slope to a bad night, even if he decided she was worth hanging onto. Without thinking, she got a glass of cold water and sat down at the table again, pressing the cool glass against her face and neck to keep herself in the here and now and with him.

"There are things I don't remember so much as feel. Echoes of a voice I can't identify or- or thinking someone's going to react negatively to something when no one with half a heart would. Sometimes... it's like a part of my brain is trying to remember the stuff I've deliberately forgotten, and the rest of my brain is trying to keep me from remembering. When that happens I just kind of... go away. Like, I'm there, physically, but my mind..." She paused to sip some water and ran her fingers idly over the place mat in front of her, taking in the texture as the cool drink soothed her throat, keeping her grounded. She surprised herself by the fact that she didn't feel like she was going to cry. Not yet. If he decided this was it, yeah, she'd spend the rest of the night crying. But not yet.

The more she thought about it, the more guilty she felt for being this way and subjecting him to her. Had she trapped him by asking him out before she told him this? But she was telling him now, and giving him an out, right? That was good of her, wasn't it? She liked him so much that she's was putting her biggest flaw right out there in the open and shining a light on it. If he couldn't handle it, well... she could just leave Rio after all.

God, she didn't want to leave Rio. Didn't want to leave him.

A sad, scared sigh escaped her. "I'm broken, Rai. I'm broken, and I don't know if I can ever be fixed all the way. I know I should have told you this before I asked you out, because you deserve to have an informed choice, to know what you're getting into, and I totally get it if... if it's too much. If it's a deal-breaker. I can be a lot as it is, and this is just... it's a lot more. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

And she really hoped he'd stay, despite it. And she was terrified he wouldn't. Her head and stomach swam unpleasantly, pizza and wine suddenly not seeming like such a good idea.

He'd busied himself washing out their wine glasses. Washing dishes was his least favourite of all chores - which he despised in general - but she'd gone through the effort to make dinner, and the least he could do was to help clean up.

He felt his shoulders tense a little as she spoke. Serious and important... Her tone and the entire vibe changed, and he tilted his head at her, a little furrow between his brows.

"Sure, girl." He set the glasses down and dried off his hands, leaning his hips back against the kitchen counter and folding his arms loosely. "What's, uh... what's up?" He deliberately kept his mind as blank as possible, refusing to jump to scary conclusions.

[unluckiestmember]

K-Pop Demon Hunters: HUNTR/X X Fem! Reader

Characters: Mira, Zoey and Rumi

Warning: None. SFW.

A/N: I can't believe pride month is over, but I'll be damned if it ends and I don't have anything for these girls! Should I do one for the Saja Boys??

Zoey

“What do you say to us going to the bathhouse after this?… Awesome- You hear that, guys?! I’m taking my girlfriend to the bathhouse!” Zoey knew she liked girls for a long time. When she lived in America, she enjoyed that she was in a sense comfortable to love who she wanted to love without much ridicule if at all. So for her, falling in love with you came easy and somewhat fast. She knew some fans wouldn’t understand, but that didn’t stop her from putting you on a pedestal and making sure the whole world knew who she was dating.

This maknae will always find a chance to hold you if not cuddle you in between shows, all while telling you endlessly how much she loves you between kisses on your cheeks. Because of how proud she is to have you as a girlfriend, she’ll even invite you to join HUNTR/X during interviews and fan signing. This lovebird makes sure no one forgets you two are together because of how happy you make her. And she hopes she makes you feel the same way.

Mira

“Where’s my girl?… There she is~. You enjoyed the show? Good, now come on, babe, we gotta celebrate.” One of the reasons why Mira didn’t get along well with her family was because she wasn’t conventional when it came to her love. She liked guys, don’t get her wrong, but she loved girls way more. And she used to be pretty self conscious about it, but after she met you? Beautiful gorgeous you? Well, let’s just say that she parades you around sometimes. When she’s done with a show, she’s all over you, quick to put an arm around you and walk around as if you are both goddesses everywhere you go.

Expect to get a bunch of kisses on your forehead and brushes along your hand from her thumb. And especially be ready for her to put you in her lap like it’s a personal throne while she caresses your side. If anyone tries to ridicule you for loving her, she’s going to make an example out of them. She dares anybody to hurt you or make you feel like you don’t belong. They’re just another display of how much she loves you and cherishes you.

Rumi

“For the melody, maybe we can-… Why are you looking at me like that? I know it may be hard, but can you try to stop being cute and focus?” Rumi had made it clear that she likes boys as much as her friends. But what she’s always kept behind closed doors along with her past is that she likes girls too. She had to learn that the hard way from performing at so many shows, meeting other artists and just being entranced by their beauty. It’s one of the reasons why she fell in love with you. You just. Waltzed right into her life and she thought you were the most beautiful person she’d ever seen.

She pursued you and at first tried to keep your relationship a secret due to fear of ridicule. But with your help and your unwavering love for the lead singer, after a show, Rumi pulled you aside and revealed to the world that you two were together. She has never been happier now that you two can be together in public. She loves how she can compliment you around Mira and Zoey. How she can talk about you fondly during interviews. And especially how she can sleep by your side without having to sneak you out in the morning. She couldn’t do it if it wasn’t for you. And because of that, she loves you so much and will love you forever.

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[destinysbounty]

I think I wouldn't mind Zane's NPC-ification quite as much as I do, if it didn't feel like they were also retconning the fact that he was ever a person to begin with.

Like, sure, I totally understand. Dragons Rising has a huge ensemble cast, and the RGB trio + new ninja are the clear focus. And I don't mind that! Everyone who does get proper narrative attention is written so wonderfully and I adore what we have. But...sometimes it feels like they're just kinda divvying up everything that makes Zane who he is and giving it to everyone else, and never even briefly acknowledging Zane's ties to those traits.

Remember when Zane used to have prophetic dreams foretelling future events? Me neither. Hey Lloyd, how are your visions coming along?

Or, y'know how one of Zane's most integral plot lines, character details, and motifs is his struggles with memory and identity? Remember that time he got amnesia and was then both manipulated and magically corrupted into being a villain? Nah that never happened, anyway check out what Jay is up to now

Or, does anyone recall how Zane is a canonically really good cook with pies so delicious they made Jay cry on screen? No that's Arin's thing, actually

Heck, we even have our quota of ~Silly Robot Beep Boop Bop~ jokes fulfilled by Lobbo!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not hating on any of the other characters for having these traits. Nor am I arguing that Zane should have a singular monopoly on these types of storylines. But when they take traits that have for so long been primarily associated with Zane, like cooking and visions and amnesia, and share them with someone else without even briefly acknowledging Zane's prior involvement...idk. It just feels like they're trying to repackage all the things that make Zane interesting while still writing him out of the narrative. It feels like they're going "whaat? Zane, have personality outside of being a generic robot character?? That never happened!" Like they're just trying to have their nindroid and kill him too.

And I mean, to some extent I can understand their hesitation. It's the same reason the Mr. E/Echo reveal got scrapped in s8 - theres just way too much going on right now, and the narrative load required to explain somwthing this complicated during a reboot/sequel would just bog down an already very complicated story. Zane has a very convoluted backstory that, for new fans dropping in to the sequel series for the first time, may be difficult to explain. How do you recap Zane's history with amnesia in a neat an tidy way for the next gen story, when there's already so much going on?

Like i said, i get that. But they could at least make, like, brief blink-and-youll-miss-it allusions, yknow? Like how they played the Ice Emperor theme during Zane's existential crisis during drs1, or when Zane told Zanth not to follow dancing birds in drs3. Tasteful, subtle, doesn't require much insider knowledge and newer fans could easily interpret it as a noodle incident comment without losing out on their comprehension.

Maybe after Jay gets eliminated from the Tournament, Zane offers to go after him saying, "I've lost myself once or twice before. If anyone understands what he's going through, it's me." And if you want to preserve the plot unobstructed, maybe you can have it so that either Zane fails to get through to Jay or Jay is gone without a trace before he can get to him. Maybe there's a brief scene of Zane making a pie to try and cheer Sora up, but she can't eat it because it reminds her too much of Arin. Or maybe Lloyd has a panic attack over his visions and Zane is the one to offer him the advice about not fighting the vision and letting it come naturally.

Don't you see how easy that is? You would change literally nothing about the story at large, and you're not detracting from the main plotlines or character arcs that are quite validly dominating this series. But you're also throwing a bone to the people who actually like Zane. Like???? I'm not even asking for much here, man :/

Idk. Maybe I'm just bitter and need to touch grass, who's to say

[thesportsprgirl]

Since Lando is involved, there's of course a particular narrative that has popped up around his Monster release and which other drivers deserve it more, so I'm going to get on my professional soap box once again because oh my god shut the fuck up already.

My creds: dual BS in Business Analytics and Marketing. MA in Strategic Communication (thesis on sports PR in the social media age). MBA with a sports economics coursework emphasis. Consultant working in corporate partnerships in a variety of sports, including motorsport.

Based on what I've seen today, people have no idea how much work goes into securing personal sponsors. In order to get a personal sponsorship deal, you and your team have to pitch the sponsor and demonstrate the value that it will bring to their business through things like DATA and RESEARCH. Engagement metrics, impressions, reach, products sold, brand recognition, return on investment, etc.

If a McLaren sponsor does a personal sponsorship of Lando as well, it's because his team pitched and demonstrated that the metrics bear out that it would be worth their money. It's not like oh let's throw money at this kid bc VIBES. Or bc Zak Brown says we had to. I keep seeing people implying that they just picked him on a whim, when things like this take ages to decide, with a ton of data, a ton of research, and a ton of really smart people analyzing it before making the call.

You have to show a sponsor the reasons that they should work with you and why it's worth their money. Lando and Quadrant have done that. And it's a fuckton of work to not only get them, but to deliver the results to retain them. Some of those results are in the form of social media engagement that they've gotten from Lando and his brands likely before the drink was even contracted.

Identifying sponsors, pitching and securing their money, etc. is a multi-billion dollar industry that requires a ton of work, data analysis, content testing, focus group testing, etc. The people saying "it should have been _____" clearly either have a personal bias or don't understand the level of personal brand you have to have to get this sort of a deal.

Lando has larger reach, more engagement, recognizable brands with very passionate followings, etc. when compared to some of the other drivers people are bringing up here. He's selling out merch collection after merch collection after merch collection, and that is not true of 90% of the other drivers on the grid. He sold so many tickets to Landostand that they quite literally BUILT ANOTHER GRANDSTAND. And sold that one out, too! These are things that come with a ton of value to sponsors. Sponsors are seeking out his audience based on demographics. It's not some sort of conspiracy, it's business.

Right now, there are a couple of drivers that are LEAGUES above the others when it comes to the effort they've put into developing their personal brand, ability to drive product, and relevancy within high disposable income and retail-spending fan demographics (Lando over indexes with four key demos: young women, highly educated women, queer men, families with children). Averaged across these "big spender demos," Lando is in the top 2. I can say that based on the data I have at my fingertips.

tl;dr - Monster is looking to sell product. Data says Lando Norris sells product because people actually like him very much.

[fennecfoxfavouritefox]

I hast been summoned from the depths of my Tumblr Pit! @runestonefox

Favourite Color: So many good colours to pick from, I would have to say pink

Last Song: 學貓叫 - 群星 I've been subjected to it for the last few weeks and I want you all to hear it too

Last Read: A Random Walk Down Wall Street by Burton Malkiel. All the way back in Winter. I need to read more books Aaa

Last Watched: How to Train Your Dragon Live Action

Currently Craving: The end of the current social-economic system that is leading to the sixth mass extinction, climate change, and untold suffering. But fried rice would work too.

Coffee vs Tea: Tea. I don't vibe with coffee. Every time I'm tired, I'm like maybe I should try coffee, it works for everyone else, right, right, RIGHT? Instant regret. My hands start hard shaking, I'm just as tired, if not more. My thoughts race just as hard as before. And I still cannot focus, and now cannot rest. And I spend the next few hours in absolute agony.

I have relatively few mutuals so I'll boop the few I do have @gbfmi1 @prairie-chimera ^w^ (Darn I should talk to you three [including runestonefox] more but I've been busy freaking out over nothing)

Pride Month is almost over and I haven't even wished you all a Happy Pride Month yet. So Happy Pride Month, in case I don't get around to a more direct wish. I am proud of you all ^w^.

Get to know your mutuals!

Coping with some shit rn and being tagged by @atlasspade honestly helps! Thank you very much!

Favorite Color: Yellow and periwinkle blue and do not make me choose between the two

Last Song You Listened To: I Always Wanna Die (Sometimes) by The 1975

Currently Reading: The Odyssey. I know, I mentioned reading it like two months ago, it's going slow.

Currently Watching: Another comfort piece... Ugly Betty

Currently Craving: hugs and reassurance

Coffee or Tea: Black tea

Don't be a stranger <3 @lilsnatch @pinkberrytea @mercymaker @steel-valiant @not-those-kids and @song-writer-melo-wrath (even though I have a feeling I know answers lmao)

[barleyo]

Frostbitten, Forbidden.

Hector Condicionado X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: another one shot with my favorite cretin. he's so lovely, i just want to eat him in one bite. hope you enjoy reading this!

Tags: dub-con, p in v, creampie, lots and lots and lots of dirty talk, sensory deprivation (eyesight)

Wordcount: 1.1k

Hector would do anything for you. He made it abundantly clear. From the moment you met him, or rather, from the moment he saw you, he knew he would make any sacrifice, any oblation, just to make you happy. No, he didn't want to make you happy—he wanted to keep you happy. A constant state of pleasure and contentment, all due to his own efforts. 

If you were tired, he would build you a bed frame with his bare hands. If you were bored, he would come up with a story to rival the telling of Shakespeare on the spot. Sad? Paw at his vent and tell him all about it. 

Fuck, he would slice his own palms and use the blood to write one of his novels for you if you wanted to do some light reading.

The only thing he couldn't do for you right now was turn up the heat. His only purpose, his one job, he simply couldn't do. Whether there was some sort of blockage in the air filters or a malfunctioning motor, nothing seemed to be working. 

Dead winter and not a single puff of air to ease your pain. 

It tore him up inside more than you would ever know, watching you toss and turn in bed, layering yourself in blankets that hardly helped. He tried for days to fix it himself. He borrowed tools from Tony, but hell if he knew what he was doing. Bang a wrench against the grate? Plead with the thermostat to co-operate? 

He felt like mold. Worse, actually. At least mold gave the world penicillin. What was he giving his beloved? Hypothermia? 

Your poor, freezing legs kicked under the thin covers in discomfort. He knew he had to do something, and he had an inkling of where his mind wanted to go, but it just seemed risky.

Then again, he'd take any risk to satisfy you. 

Your body was shaking inconsolably at this point. You were miserable. Days of straight ice and still air were starting to get to you. Truly, you were convinced it was colder outside your home than in it, but you wouldn't run the chance of finding out. You wanted nothing more than to drift into sleep, but it was too cold to even hope for a good night's rest. 

Just as you began to give up, you felt the bed dip beside you. That wasn't right. You lived alone. 

You tried to scream, but a quick hand covered your mouth. Was this the end? Jesus, why you?

"Hush, my love, it is I."

Oh. 

You slacked in Hector's grasp. You had heard his voice many times, and although it sounded a bit different outside of the vent, you still felt its comforting tones wash over you. That didn't change your confusion. Why was he out of the vent?

As if he could hear your thoughts clicking, he answered, "I couldn't stand to see you like this. Suffering, when I can do something about it."

You hummed against his palm in understanding. Your eyes flicked across the wall in front of you as you laid on your side. You wanted to flip over and see him. You tried to resist the urge, to respect his privacy, but your body acted on its own.

Hector quelled your movements sharply, firm hand turning your head to face the wall again. 

"You know I cannot have that." His calloused hand covered your eyes instead. He cupped his palm over them to keep you both literally and metaphorically in the dark about his appearances. "Don't focus on anything but my warmth. Let me help you, amor."

He hastily fidgeted with his belt, popping the buckle with overly eager hands. 

"Let me make everything up to you. Please."

"Don't you know what it does to me to have this power over you?" 

Hector had gotten much more into this than he thought he would. Obviously, a chance to get this close to you, to touch you, was heaven, but to have complete control?

This was the stuff of fantasy. 

Total domination, zero vulnerability. An opportunity to act on all the depraved things he had said to you in the vents without the fear of being judged for his looks? Sign him up.

"To have you at my mercy? To have all of your trust?" He bottomed out, pushing your face into your pillow. Gentle, as to not hurt his precious girl. "I've wanted this for so many moons. So much wasted time—god—if I knew it could be like this..."

You moaned a strangled little noise into the fluffy pillow. He hated not being able to hear the full extent of your pleasure, but there would be time for that another day.

"That's right," Hector said, voice syrupy and warm as he spoke to you, "I would've taken you much earlier."

His hands gripped your hips and forced them upwards. He dreamed about this. It nearly felt like deja vu, seeing as how he thought of bending you into these nasty positions many times before. It was almost too good to be true. 

"Maybe I would have snuck out of the wretched vent early in the morning to visit you." 

What a tease.

"Or maybe late at night. Late when you think nobody hears you, touching yourself in the dark." His hips stuttered. He didn't want to cum yet, not until you did. He wouldn't forgive himself if he messed up yet again. "I hear you. I hear every sound, every little noise you make. I turn the air up. Make it nice and loud, so nobody else gets to enjoy the show you put on."

Despite the slight uncomfortableness of the angle he put you in, you could see why he did it. He was hitting deep. Deep and purposeful. It was too much for you to handle, especially with his teasing. 

"If only you would have asked me for help. I would've been out in a heartbeat." 

A sexy, but flagrant lie. The sweet vent-dweller took to hiding deep in the vents when you masturbated, stroking himself recklessly while trying to silence his breathing. He was far too nervous to actually do anything about it and far too ashamed of eavesdropping. 

"Next time you need pleasure," he choked out, feeling your gummy walls flutter around him, "call for me."

If he had any shame in the current moment, he'd be horrified at how quickly he came after you. He was simply waiting for your body's permission before he blew.

"I'm always here for you, love."

[keirareidss]

unknown/nth - a.h

♡ summary: hotch nearly breaks when you're in danger, and afterwards, realizes he can't live without you pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader warnings: violence, case details wc: 1.4k based on this request

You know the distance never made a difference to me I swam a lake of fire, I'd have walked across the floor of any sea Ignored the vastness between all that can be seen And all that we believe So I thought you were like an angel to me

Hotch was going to have a breakdown. Mental, or physical, he didn't know. All he knew was that, if they didn't find you soon, he was going to start breaking shit.

You'd been gone for nine hours now, and it was all his fault. If he hadn't decided to split up, the unsub wouldn't have found you alone and you would still be with him, by his side.

He didn't know what was happening to you. Were you hurt? Were you conscious? Were you even still alive? He quickly pushed that thought from his head, focusing on how to get you back. They knew the unsub was dangerous, they knew he had a hair trigger so they had to be very careful about how they went about this. Hotch didn't care. He would do whatever it takes to get you back. He'd travel to hell and back if it meant you'd be waiting for him when he got there.

"Hotch? You listening?" Morgan said, snapping him out of his stupor.

"Yes." Hotch rasped, his voice rough from shouting at everyone. A regrettable moment, he'll admit.

"Garcia got a lead. A hardware store he might work at."

"Good. Take Prentiss with you." Derek's eyebrows furrowed.

"Prentiss is with Reid at the morgue. Hotch are you alright?" When had she gone there? Aaron was really losing it.

"Alright then take Rossi." Derek hesitated a moment, watching his boss carefully. He left the room, finding Rossi in the kitchenette, leaving Hotch alone in the conference room of the police precinct. Alone with his thoughts of what you could be going through right now.

It ain't the being alone It ain't the empty home, baby You know I'm good on my own You know, it's more the being unknown So much of the living, love, is the being unknown

Hotch typically worked better on his own, or at least taking the lead which worked out for him, being the boss. He had his own office where he could isolate himself, close the blinds, fully shut himself away from the rest of the world.

But then you broke down his walls. You permeated his office, filling his space, his senses, with you. He didn't know what he was like to be alone without you anymore. You were always there. Every day, bringing him coffee, dropping your files off and lingering for a chat, taking your lunch break in his office, forcing him to eat as well.

Now, while you were gone, he couldn't eat. He couldn't force himself to focus on the case, couldn't stand to look at the files because every step closer he got to finding you, the more he envisioned what could be happening to you.

It wasn't the fact that he was alone. It was the fact that he was alone, without you.

"We've got him." The words rang in his ears, the blurry world around him becoming clearer. He blinked and he was surrounded by his team, awaiting instructions. Garcia found a name, an address. They were so close to finding you.

"Let's go." Hotch said, standing from his chair. The team followed, wary of their bosses state right now. They couldn't tell if he was just a tick away from a breakdown or a murder. Maybe both. Maybe he'd end up fainting again.

They drove to the address, sirens blaring, lights flashing, though, as they got closer to the house they slowed down, turning off their alarm. This had to go perfectly. They had to get in quietly and take him down quickly. If he heard the police coming, he'd kill you and run. They pulled up a few houses down the street.

"Hotch." Rossi called to his friend, pulling the man's attention away from the vengeance on his mind. "I think you should stay back."

"What? No way, I'm going in there."

"I don't think that's a good idea and if it was anyone else in your shoes, you'd be saying the same thing. You're too close to this, Aaron, you know that." Aaron considered Dave's words and then nodded. His heart did feel as though it was beating a bit too fast and he could feel sweat forming on his forehead. He leaned back against the SUV as his team headed on without him, creeping up towards the house.

Any minute now, you'd come out of that house, perfectly fine, and right back into his arms, where he'd never let you leave from again.

Do you know, I could break beneath the weight Of the goodness, love, I still carry for you? That I'd walk so far just to take The injury of finally knowing you

Fourteen minutes and thirty five seconds. Fourteen minutes and thirty five seconds he stood at that vehicle, waiting for any glimpse of you. Any indication that you were okay, alive somewhere in that hell house. Just when he was considering storming into that house himself, the door opened, Derek leading you out of the house.

Your arm was over his shoulders, you didn't have any visible severe injuries, no limp, no dislocated shoulder. From what he could see you were fine but as he got closer, his feet bringing him closer and closer to you, he saw more injuries along your body. Bruises on the exposed skin he could see, blood on your temple and running down your bicep.

His eyes didn't leave you as he rushed across the yard. You spotted him, a sigh of relief leaving your lips. You took your arm from Derek's shoulders, stumbling forward to meet your boyfriend. He wasted no time pulling you into his arms. His lips pressed roughly to yours, his large hand cupping your cheek as your eyes fell closed, the passionate kiss making all the pain and aching in your body disappear.

"I thought I lost you." Hotch murmured against your lips.

"I'm right here." You whispered, Hotch pulling you back to kiss you again. The feeling of you pressed against him felt familiar, felt right. His arm wrapped around your waist before he remembered himself, pulling back again to look in your eyes.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He was out of breath, from the running to you or the kissing, you didn't know. Maybe a combination of both. Maybe it was just you alone who took his breath away.

"No. No, I'm okay." He leant down, burying his face in your neck, holding you tight. He didn't care who saw, the team, the press, the fucking president could watch him forgo his professionalism to embrace you and he would tell them to go fuck themselves.

"We should get you to a hospital." He says, leaning back to scan over your body for injuries.

"I'm fine, Aaron, just a few bruises."

"We need to be sure-"

"I'm sure." You said firmly, placing a hand on his bicep.

"Hotch." Derek called, pulling the yearning man's attention away from you. Morgan nodded to where the unsub was cuffed in the back of a cop car and the team was awaiting instruction.

He didn't let you leave his side as he finished up the case, keeping you within arms length as the team headed back to the precinct, packing everything up and heading back to the hotel. The two of you, in his hotel room, laid almost nose to nose on the bed, his hand clutching yours.

"I wasn't very helpful with this case." Hotch admits in the dark of the room.

"No?" You implored.

"No. I couldn't stop my mind from wandering. I kept thinking about what he was doing to you." He said softly. You sighed, raising a hand to his face, cupping his cheek softly.

"I'm here. I'm okay."

"I know." His hand found your wrist. And he was telling the truth. Seeing you in front of him, feeling your soft skin under his callused fingers, he finally felt at peace. He finally felt as if the calm, the constant in his life was returned to him.

Taglist: @cinnamoncunt, @dramioneforevertilltheend, @tinythebunni

[sydwritess]

The Life of Racing Pt. 1

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: through it all, the racing, the media, the meetings. What matters to Lando the most is you. His home life is just as important as track life. Some days, he doesn't balance it easily. But through it all, the both of you try. Going through some challenges, but always coming out together, hand in hand again.

Second Person POV

Notes: my first F1 series! Requests are open!

01 02 03 04 05

You were a well know journalist in the F1 community. You were known more for what your write. Articles on driving life, as well as interviewing drivers about their F1 experience as a whole.

To say the least, you were well respected in the community, and by the public, you were known as an influencer to. You showed up at multiple events and races, surly not as big of a base as the drivers, but people knew you.

You were hired by f1 around a year ago. Climbing your way up the ladder in the workforce.

You were grateful to be working there. And you weren't alone in it either. Your best friend, Lewis, has been by you for what feels like forever, seeing how your families did know each other too.

Article after article. Late night after late night. You got so well ahead that some of the drivers started talking to you and hanging out with you on paddock. Which tells the story itself, seeing how you were an interviewer.

Your main focus was on the McLaren team. Zak, your boss, knew you were a 'hard worker' from the moment he saw you, he said.

Now you were at the Canadian GP. You were walking out of the paddock and into the McLaren garage, sitting down at a desk they watched the races from.

You got out your laptop, notebook, and pen. Cliking it quickly on the desk, out of anxiousness.

"Y/n, did you get those interviews recorded today?" Zak asked, walking by you in a hurry.

"Yeah. I'm working on it." You say tiredly.

It was a long day to say the least. A long week. You look over to your right, seeing Lando sit down next to you.

He smiled slightly before logging into a computer.

"Looks like someone can't keep up with this job." And engineer said from the back.

"Will you shut the hell up?" You say, slamming your pen down and looking at the person. He just put his hands up in defense and turned around.

"Fucking Christ." You mumble, turning back around to your laptop.

"Y/n, do you need to go home? It's been a long day-." Zak said quietly, walking up behind you.

"No. I need to get this done." You say. He takes a deep breath before walking away.

You were working silently for a couple of minutes, writing down notes from today's interview.

"What are you working on?" Lando asked quietly, leaning over and looking at your screen.

"Just... today's interview." You say. He nodded his head silently.

"You know. Don't listen to Gerard. He's always and asshole." He says, a slight grin forming on his face.

"Thanks." You say, smiling slightly.

You continue working on different article drafts for Zak, hoping to get them published this week.

Next to you, you hear Lando sigh deeply, rubbing his hands on his temples slowly. He had the replay paused on his crash.

"You shouldn't let one crash define who you are." You say quietly.

"What do you mean?" He asked, looking at you with a straight face.

"Within the short time I've been here. I can tell your the type to beat yourself up about one mistake. You just... shouldn't." You say.

"You know, you definitely have some great opinions." He says, smirking.

"It's called... being open minded." You say, letting out a huffed laugh.

You continued to work on your drafts, while also looking at the interviews from today. You were deeply focused on what you were working on, signaling out Lando's voice.

"Do you want to hang out tonight?" That came clear to you.

"We can. But I'm just going to be reviewing the race. Nothing special." You say.

"That's fine. We can work, or do whatever." He smiled.

"Yeah, okay meet me at my hotel room around five." You say. You write down the floor and room number and give it to him.

"Fancy." He said slyly.

"Please, I bet you have a full house out there." You joke.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But..." He holds up the paper. "I'll meet you there." He says.

It get's closer to evening time, and people start to leave. You begin to pack up your things and leave the garage, walking down the paddock strip.

The crowds were dying down. There was a long line to get out of the gates. You walk around to the back entrance, mainly for workers.

You walk up to the gates, security guarding the entrance.

"Ms. Y/n, right this way." One of the guards say. He walks right next to you, leading you to your car.

You look at him slightly confused along the way.

"It's a new protocol. Anyone who works here, or who is known to the public eye, unfortunately needs escort." He says.

"Right, okay."

You walk down to your car, the guard opens your door for you.

"Thank you." You say, he nods and shuts it when you get in.

You slowly drive out of the parking lot, making your way out of the circuit and into downtown.

You made your way through the heavy evening traffic and to the hotel. You quickly walk through the lobby, and to the elevators.

It took a minute before the doors finally opened. You stepped inside, clicking the 30th floor button. The elevator slowly rose to the top.

You got off and walked down the hallway, entering your room at the end.

It was big to say the least. A little foyer at the front. Straight in is a small living room, to the left was a kitchen and small island, and to the right was a small hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom.

It was spacious, which you were grateful for seeing how you were spending over a week here.

You kick off your shoes, putting them under the bench near the door, and dropping your keys down on the table.

You walk into the living area, quickly turning on the TV, putting on the race to review for work.

You walk over to the kitchen, grabbing a wine glass and a bottle of Barolo wine.

Your pour some into the glass and go sit int he living room, watching the TV and taking down notes.

You continue the notes that you need to when you hear a light knock on the room door. You walk over to it, and open it slightly. Lando stood there.

"Hey, come on in." You say, moving over. He walks in slowly, standing across from you as you close the door.

"I'm just finishing his up." You say, lazily pointing to the TV as you sit on the couch.

"It's alright, I don't mind watching me be a brilliant racer." He teased. Sitting down to the left of you.

"Yeah, I mean, you totally didn't crash or anything." You smile. You press play on the race, grabbing your notebook.

"You've got a lot of notes." He says.

"Got a lot of writing to do." You say.

You keep you eyes on the TV, writing down details of different laps. You are mid sentence when Lando reaches over and takes your book and pen, setting it down on the table.

"Hey, what are you-" You cut yourself off when he put's his hands around your waist, effortlessly pulling you onto his lap, gently kissing you on the forehead.

"I hate hiding us." He sighs. You reach your hand to the back of his head gently.

"I know. But you knew this when we started going out." You say.

"Is it wrong to want to brag about my beautiful girlfriend all over social media? Or tell people that your mine when walking around the paddock?" He whines.

"No, but you can't. It might get us in trouble." You say.

"By who?"

"By our boss. Who does, might I add, have a very, very high temper some days."

"We could find a new job."

"Your really willing to let go of a Formula One career for a relationship?"

"If it means I get to stay with you, then yes." He said, putting his head into the crook of your neck.

"You'll be fine. At least we get to be together after work."

"But it's to short of time." He mumbles into your neck. There was a pause, a deep silence.

"Do you know why I crashed today?" He asked, looking up at you.

"Why?"

"Because you weren't there to hold my hand, or kiss me before getting into the car or I couldn't post you on Instagram the night before." He said, slowly, and sadly.

"So am I just your good luck charm?"

"No- no, no I'm just saying. I missed you, that's why I crashed." He said, backing up his answer.

"Hmm, I think you crashed because you thought you could get through a gap that wasn't big enough." You say, looking him in the eyes.

"Because I wanted to impress you." He said, smirking.

"Impress me?"

"Yeah. Like how you impress me."

"How do I impress you?" You ask curiously.

"Because, some people might think your just another journalist, but your good at what you do. And you even need a security escort to your car at work." He said.

"Yeah, and he told me it's for every worker on the circuit."

"He just said that to make you feel not special." He said, pausing. "He downgraded my girlfriend."

"Downgraded? Lan I don't think-"

"Yes he did." He interrupted.

"Okay... whatever you want to believe." You say, smiling. He leans to the table, grabbing your book and pen.

"You can write again." He smiles.

"Thanks." You say. You flip open the notebook to an empty page, and start writing something.

Lando tried to peer over to your book, but you turned it away, closer to you. You finish writing your sentence, and give it to him.

"Lando Norris, states privately that he crashed into Oscar in Canadian GP due to his secret girlfriend, journalist y/n, y/l/n, not giving him a kiss before getting in the car." He mumbles.

"Y/n." He gasps. "You can't write this!" He said, scrambling the notebook back into your hands.

"Oh I'm sorry. Weren't you the one who wanted to brag about e everywhere?" You ask.

"Yes but that's different. That is my love. This." He said, tapping on the page. "Is just calling me out."

"I thought." You pause, working up fake tears. "I really thought you loved me." You say.

"Awe come on, don't be sad. I do love you." He says, cradling you in his arms like a kid.

"It's a joke."

"Not a very funny joke." He says sternly. You stay like that for a couple of minutes in silence. The race playing in the background.

"Can I spend the night tonight?" Lando asks.

"You really want to risk that?" You ask, pulling your head away fro hi.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you and Oscar are only a couple floors above us. He's staying right next to you. And he's suspicious of like... well everything." You say.

"So, I can just leave early."

"Right. Did you forget he has early training tomorrow?"

"Wait- how do you know that?"

"Because there's a calendar in the team garage."

"Okay, then I will leave extra, extra early." He says, smirking.

"Whatever you say." You smile.

Hey loves! Pt. 1 of 'The Life of Racing' is here! Hope you like it, any more chapters to come! Comment ot be added to the F1 tag list! Requests are open!

Tag list:

@mimisweetz

[my-flesh-is-crispy]

The Heights Grasp

Yan!Telamon x trauma!reader

Cw:Yan, stalking, trauma,death, suggestive, !very toxic!

I don't know why I made this, it's pretty short.Prolly ooc btw.

You were just a silly mortal. You thought to yourself as you anxiously walked home, your steps falling quickly after the last, it was the rhythm you could focus on to distract yourself from the feeling of being watched. You knew who..no, **what** was watching you, however, that couldn't really help you here.

Because up there in the heights? Telamon was watching. He never usually interacted with the mortals much, but you? You were an interesting little bug to Telamon! I mean, you had it all...a family that you left the moment you could, a lack of support system, and most importantly, you fall for the first person who shows even a little bit of interest

Of course, you tried telling yourself otherwise, you didn't like Telamon, you didn't like him, you didn't like it.

But it certainly loved you.

He watched in the heights, looking down at your silly little worried face. How you may ask? Don't question it. You looked so paranoid that at moment, he found it pretty endeering. You were so easy to toy with, I guess the feeling of being watched is worse then any other.

He hummed to himself quietly, you heard it but no one else did, it drove you absolutely insane. You were the weird one after all. You've been isolated from everyone around you because all you talk about is the voice in your head. It's ruined your life. You had no one.

No one except him. No other options besides him.

You were crossing the road, the same one you did everyday in this cycle you seem to be stuck in. You didn't check the traffic lights. And a semi truck drove by and...

Dust.

Dust flew in the wind and knocked in your face like small pin needles poking and stabbing. You opened your eyes only to be met with a rusty orange sky with brown platforms scattered about. Infact, you were sitting on one right now. You looked down to see an image of the fire ring. Wait, wasn't their like....a cult for that symbol?? You thought. Though immediately interrupted by a figure appearing Infront of you, leaning down with a cocked head. It reached out to grab your chin, tilting your head. Tela:"hmmm...your much more stunning up close, dearest..."he hummed as he examined you with shaded eyes.

That's the voice. That's the voice that's been in your head for so long, eating away at you like a parasite. Y/n:"wait...are you the telam-" Tela:"yep. I'm the Telamon, you can just call me Tela because we know each other so. Well." He teased. He probably did know everything about you, he's been stalking you for... about a year.

Y/n:"hold up, aren't I supposed to be DEAD?!" You asked in surprise, your fingers digging into the ground below you. Tela:"shhh, darling... You should know by now my,well, obsession, with you. See, I would never let you die. I'm guessing you did that to escape me, but all it did is bring you to my doorstep, didn't it?" He traced one of his bird like claws down the side of your neck, making you shiver slightly

He suddenly grabbed the side of your neck hard, reaching for your arm to pull you up off the ground. Y/n:"hey..! Owww...." You stood up, flushing a little as he brushes the dust off you. Tela:"the ground isn't exactly clean" you just stared blankly, making him chuckle at your confusion. Tela:"just follow me,dear, we have certain things to get you.... accustomed to.."

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM DATE EVERYTHING (PART 2) *  assorted dialogue from the 2025 video game, specifically the volt and eddie romance, adjust as necessary

trust me, i would never forget such a striking face.

why is so hard for you to believe i actually like spending time with you?

care to dance?

it's far too easy to lose oneself with you.

don't think i'm done with you yet, [name].

i imagine it would be quite difficult to focus on anything with you around.

you have quite the reputation. i'm eager to explore it for myself.

it's a pleasure to officially make your acquaintance.

i kinda feel underdressed.

trust me, you look stunning.

as long as you're going to be there, i'm up for anything.

careful there. i might just take you up on that.

are you always this oblivious?

are you always this much of an asshole?

cute. now get out, i've got work to do.

there's no time, all right? there's too much to do.

have i ever failed you before?

i'm serious, [name]. if it gets worse, you come get me.

how delightful. you're back.

you do learn quickly, don't you.

i'll have to find some more challenging lessons for you.

as much as i'm enjoying our conversation, there are a few more things i must attend to.

allow me to show you to your seat.

oh for fuck's sake, what do you want?

you actually care about this, don't you?

can i finish my drink in peace?

look, you'd better rest up if you want to be useful tomorrow.

you can't get rid of me that easily.

you'll probably change your mind once you realize what you signed up for.

i'm fine. you can put me down now.

that was unbelievably careless. what were you trying to do exactly?

just pay more attention.

i suddenly feel awkward and self-conscious.

you've done a decent job the last couple of days.

now you can get back to... whatever it is you do when you're not invading my space.

i already told you. big crowds aren't really my thing.

i do better on my own. trust me. i'll only slow you down.

be honest, you enjoyed yourself so much last time you just couldn't stay away. am i right?

i can't go back to being alone.

i can't lose you.

it's my job to protect you, even from yourself.

just do it before i change my mind.

i'd almost forgotten what this felt like.

isn't there something you wanted to talk about first?

[podcastenthusiast]

My probably unpopular hansry opinion is that if they did run away together to escape the arranged wedding, living alone in the woods somewhere or even trying to disappear in a city, Hans and Henry would start to feel so much resentment toward one another and the entire situation once reality sets in, like I'm sorry but I think they would.

Hans would absolutely miss the comforts of nobility, there's a very small part of him that laments falling for a peasant, but he can adjust to living with less. The necessary isolation? He's been lonely all his life. What I don't think he could handle is knowing he abandoned the people of Rattay--he really did want to be a good lord, to look after his people, and now he feels useless, without purpose. Henry still has nightmares he won't talk about, worse than before, leaving him tired yet restless. Surely Hans is not enough for him after all, just a selfish brat whose wonderful love indulged his most foolish whim. Hans doesn't cope well with boredom or guilt, as we know. He can get mean, words sharp as poisoned arrows, even though the regret is immediate. Everything should be all right. Henry should make it so; that's what he does.

As for Henry, well... that boy just needs a village, his friends, family, a task on which to focus. He would miss the other survivors from Skalitz and the Devil's Pack terribly. Y'know that Vonnegut quote that's like "But what they’re really yelling at each other about is loneliness. What they’re really saying is, 'You’re not enough people.'"? That's Henry. Not to mention he'd have to watch the war carry on without him and wish he could join the fight, torn between the sweetness of choosing freedom and the bitterness of running away, again, of knowing they can't truly build any sort of life here meant to last. Sometimes part of Henry wonders if he should've stayed in Rattay where things felt simple, as much as it would've broken his heart. He clearly isn't enough to keep Hans happy, if Hans is even trying to be, and he can't be happy either. Why isn't this enough? It's supposed to be enough.

[ghoulishhx]

i yeaaarnnn to be ‘used’ by frank whenever he wants to. he’d suddenly bend me over and just fuck me roughly while being degrading obvy😩

this. yes. absolutely yes. omg

also I'm so sorry for disappearing on you all, I'm gonna keep it real I completely crashed and burned with my mental health. a lot has happened in my personal life these past few weeks that have exhausted me to fuck so I needed some time to focus on myself. I'm gonna try get back to my regular posting. thank you for your patience ♡

in happier news though, tomorrow is my birthdayyyyyy :3 so enjoy this tiny lil drabble as a lil present

- MDNI below the cut :3 -

I believe frank is like a feral dog when it comes to his girl. watching you do anything domestic makes his monkey brain go crazy and he just needs you right there and then. the feeling is mutual of course, and you're more than happy to oblige.

maybe he watches you in the kitchen, hair up out of your face wearing nothing but a thin short summer dress because of the scorching heat (absolutely taking inspiration for that from the state of the UK rn in this godforsaken heatwave), you're just minding your business washing dishes and you feel frank coming up behind you, trailing his coarse hands along your front, grabbing and squeezing at your soft breasts deliciously peaking through the top of your dress as he trails his lips down your neck, nibbling the skin.

"frankie- what are you doing? aren't you too warm-"

"don't care, need ya now."

he flips you around and bends you over your kitchen table, hiking your dress up above your hips and exposing your dripping cunt to him. he hums appreciatively as he toys your throbbing clit with his calloused thumb between your legs, collecting your slick and coating his cock in your juice. you can't help but jolt into his touch, your body subconsciously opening yourself up to him.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he pushes himself fully inside and begins a punishing pace. your eyes well with tears by the force of his hips, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling the room along with your strangled moans. the sting of him stretching you out only floods his cock more.

"feel so fuckin' good doll, always so perfect and tight f'me" he mutters to himself as he slaps your ass, the sting hurting so good as the tip of his cock touches your cervix. it's not long until you're creaming around his member, covering him with a ring of your arousal at the base before he fills you up with his own seed....

or maybe you're in the shower, humming the melody to your favourite song as you look up and notice him standing and staring at you from the doorway, his hand confidently resting on his large bulge in his jeans as he watches you intently. Frank can't help but practically lick his lips at the sight of your hard nipples, the way the water cascades down your figure, the soap coating your body with delicious bubbles. it's not long before hes stripping himself off and taking you up against the cool tile wall of your shower, wrapping your legs around his hips as he thrusts himself up into you.

"couldn't help m'self sweetheart, ya just looked too damn good..." he mumbles into your neck as he sucks purple bruises all over you, marking you. "you dunno what ya do t'me"

or finally, you're out together at a bar and he watches the bar tender look at you for too long, notices the way his eyes leer over your body as he hands you your vodka cranberry. the way his lips curl into a smile as your fingers graze his as he hands over your drink. Frank can't take it anymore, he slams a 50 dollar bill on the table and grabs your wrist, whisking you away to the nearest bathroom and fucks your brains out in earshot of the bartender, making sure he knows you belong to him and only him.

"that's it baby, let it all out. let everyone know who's making ya feel this good. let everyone know who ya belong to"

a/n: idk if this is any good, just something I cooked up while not being able to sleep. I'm sorry if it's mid </3