#and having to learn the hard way that the world you grew up in is flawed and the people you respect are monsters

[cloudlessly-light]

The love you gave me (One-shot)

A/N: Another not smut fic?! I've been in a angsty mood and today I watched Minimal Loss and this idea came to me and I couldn't get it out of my mind, so here we are.

Title: The love you gave me Summary: I can take it.

She’s said those words before. Aaron just didn’t know the full story why. Word count: 3,1k Rating: Mature Warnings: Child abuse, abuse, SA (nothing detailed), mentions of abortion, Emily Prentiss needs a hug, angst, hurt, Protective Aaron Hotchner

“I can take it.” She knows that the team is listening, knows that he is listening. They can’t come in, they can’t risk the lives of innocent children, children who didn’t know anything but life inside a cult.

“I can take it.”

She grew up in violence. Of course, as a young girl she didn’t realize how wrong it was. She didn’t know that having your arm pulled hard enough that she was sure it would be pulled out of the socket when getting the answer wrong, or the slap to her cheek when she talked back or the quiet tears on her mother’s face, was wrong.

No, Emily learned that violence was a form of love from a young age.

She can’t remember the first time her father had turned his violence against her. There was a memory, vague and blurry that she thinks was the first time, but she can’t be sure. She’s four, running down the stairs in a frilly dress that her mother had insisted on, it’s pink and white and everything Emily didn’t want. And then she trips, tumbles down the stairs and right into the housekeeper that’s trying to save her fall. In the chaos she accidentally knocks over a pot, sending dirt all over the floor and her dress.

“Emily!” Her father’s voice booms as he comes out from the study, dark eyes narrowed into splits as he watches the mess before him. “Stupid girl.” He grabs her arm and drags her to his study, muttering the entire way.

The bruises on her arm take a week to fade.

What she does know is that it doesn’t stop, no matter how much she tries to be the perfect daughter, he would always find a reason why she wasn’t good enough. She’s eleven when she starts to accept that she never would be what he wanted. And it is a piece of her lost.

Sometimes she would look at herself in the mirror. Everyone told her that she looked like her mother, but her eyes, they were strikingly like her father’s. The same dark orbs, the same shape, and she hates it. Because every time she looked in the mirror, she saw him staring back at her, scrutinizing her, finding everything that was wrong with her. She didn’t want his eyes, because she didn’t want to see the world like he did.

She’s twelve when he twists her mother’s arm hard enough to break it and as she sits with her in an emergency room and listens to her mother’s lies to the doctors and nurses, she swears she would be better than her.

“You’re pathetic!” Her father spits the words in her mother’s face.

Emily has watched the whole thing, her mother’s arm still in a cast as he blames her for being late after a meeting. She would watch her mother sometimes, wonder how the woman who with a single look demanded respect in a room full of people, could look so meek standing in front of her husband.

His hand raises and Elizabeth flinches before he’s made contact. And it’s enough for Emily to stand from the kitchen table, palms flat on the smooth wood.

“Don’t!” She screams and she can see the terror on her mother’s face, wide eyes as she shakes her head in fear. But she doesn’t care, she wasn’t going to watch him hurt her mother again.

“Who do you think you’re talking to in that tone?” His voice is cold but his focus switches from his wife to his daughter. He grabs her and she stands firm. When his hand raises again she closes her eyes.

“I can take it.”

At thirteen her parents separate but it’s too late by then.

They move to Italy soon after and she finds Matthrew and John, finds solace in their friendship, thinks that she might have found something real. The night John drinks too much and she finds herself in a situation where she feels unable to say no, she loses another part of herself.

“Who’s the father?” Matthew asks even though he already knew, had seen the looks between his friends, heard their awkward attempt at flirting.

“It doesn’t matter.” She twists her fingers in her lap, nervous as she sits in his bedroom. She doesn’t want to tell him, doesn’t want him to leave her. “I can’t keep it.”

To her surprise he takes her hand and squeezes it.

“We’ll figure it out.”

They don’t. They’re kids dealing with something most grown ups hope to never experience. When their priest tells her that she wouldn’t be welcomed back in the church, she watches as her best friend loses his faith. That’s something that would stay with her for longer than she cared to admit.

“This will be uncomfortable.” The doctor says as she lays on a cold table in a city outside of Rome, far away from home.

“I can take it.”

Her mother gets stationed back in the states not long after and she ends up going to high school in the country she had longed for. It’s a new start for her and she vows to forget about the last few years of her life. It works, compartmentalizing something she’s excelled at for as long as she could remember. She graduates with honors and gets accepted into Yale.

She meets Jacob not long after and he’s nice and loving, funny and smart. She starts to think that maybe not every man was as horrible as she had grown up believing. She falls in love, more like crashes into it so fast she doesn’t notice the changes in him. It starts with a few casual comments about her clothes, too much of this, too much of that. Slowly they get worse, comments about her body that make her feel ashamed and small. So she goes on a diet, because he was right, she had gained a few pounds.

When he tells her she’s doing it to get attention from other men she makes the mistake of laughing, because to her that was absurd.

“Do not laugh at me!” His hands wrap around her shoulder, and when her back collides with the door hard enough to rattle a picture frame she only stares at him. He didn’t mean it, she thinks. Because this was Jacob, sweet, caring, funny Jacob.

He hit her for the first time only a few months later and with that he takes another piece of her.

“This is your fault, you made me do this!” He actually looks sad and she thinks that he’s right, he loves her.

“I can take it.”

When her friends find out they press charges and it’s the end of her relationship with Jacob. She thinks it’s going to be her last relationship ever and instead she focuses on school. She graduates college and works toward the goal she’s had for most of her life. The FBI.

A few years passes, and then she gets the opportunity to work for Interpol and she jumps on it. It was easy falling into the character of Lauren, in some ways she’s been playing different people her entire life.

What she doesn’t count on however, is the feelings that Lauren gets for Ian, that the version of herself that is Lauren falls in love with him. He’s dangerous and thrilling and everything she knows she shouldn’t be attracted to. At least this time she knew he was violent, but she could be violent too.

She doesn’t tell her team about the violence in their relationship, doesn’t tell them that sometimes after he’s had one too many drinks he would find her and take out his anger on the world on her. She doesn’t show the bruises or marks he leaves on her skin. She goes to the hospital in secret when she think her ribs are broken, sits in the ER alone. It’s another piece of her lost and she wonders if maybe this is what she deserved.

“Does it hurt?” He slurs as he forces himself on her, his hand fisting her hair so tightly she’s afraid he’s going to rip it out.

“I can take it.” She grunts out through clenched teeth and bleary eyes.

Then she moves back to DC, meets Aaron and for the first time in her life she finds something true, something precious. She falls in love with him.

He doesn’t know about her past and she doesn’t tell him. The way he loves her is different, it’s bigger and more secure and at times she isn’t sure how to handle it. Because to her love had to be painful, or it wasn’t real. Sometimes she picks a fight just because, and she steadies herself for harsh words or fists but they never come. Instead he holds her when she’s sad, listens as she rants about the injustices of the world, laughs at her mistakes in the kitchen. He loves her in a way she didn’t think existed.

He slowly starts to put her back together again, the pieces she once thought were lost somehow coming back until there’s only small tears left and not gaping holes. He loves her and she loves him.

“You don’t talk about your father.”

They’re in bed and the question comes out of nowhere.

“Neither do you.” She says softly as she lays halfway on top of him, stealing some of his warmth.

“You know why. He wasn’t a good man.” He gently brushes some hair out of her face and watches as she smiles sadly.

“Neither was mine.”

In Colorado everything goes wrong. There’s a raid. Nancy is shot even after she had told the other woman to stay put and somehow Benjamin Cyrus finds out that they work for the FBI. Correction, one of them, and Emily wastes no time taking the blame when she sees Cyrus zeroing in on Spencer, because in her mind there wasn’t a question. She needed to protect Spencer, needed him safe.

The first hit feels like going back in time, somehow the pain now feeling worse than it had been when her father had slapped her and she falls back to the floor she has tried to get up from. He kicks her and she feels her ribs break, new injuries over old ones and she cries out. The sound of the mirror breaking reminds her of that vase when she was four, the crack loud and she sees dark eyes in her mind, eyes like her own, eyes that terrified her at four.

When Cyrus throws her against the wall she can’t help but to think just how similarly Jacob had thrown her against the wall in his off-campus apartment once, the feeling the same, the pain in her body still familiar. She gets up, plants her feet against the stone floor because she knows what she has to do.

“I can take it.”

The slap comes almost immediately, stinging and making her ears ring as her vision goes blurry.

“Pride comes before the fall.”

She anchors herself for the rest of it, protects her body the best she can as she finds that place in her mind where things doesn’t hurt as much. When he finally stops she knows that she’s done her job, has protected the people in the compound. She thinks she passes out soon after, because when she opens her eyes she’s on a bed, hands numb from having them tied behind her back. It’s dark out, she had no idea how long she had been out for, but she knows that Aaron and the rest of them were coming.

Her entire body protests as she lifts her foot to pull on the blinds. She breathes through it, even when the pain almost knocks the air out of her.

“I can try and get the women and children into the basement but I need to know when you’re coming.”

Luckily they can hear her and as soon as she gets confirmation she knows that her only hope is Kathy, the woman who called them there in the first place. Somehow, they make it and when she hugs Spencer she doesn’t care that her ribs crack or the way pain radiates through her, because he was alive, they both were.

A few days later she’s home with Aaron, lying in bed as he takes care of her. A concussion, three broken ribs, seven stitches in her arm and a lot of bruising, that’s what Cyrus had done to her. She can see the anger on Aaron, knows that he wants more than anything to take away her pain.

“I would have killed him.” He says it softly, but there’s a tension in his jaw. “If you hadn’t told us not to come in, I would have killed him. And if the blast hadn’t killed him, I would have killed him after.”

“That’s not you honey.” She thinks she’s slurring slightly, the pain medications and lack of sleep making her drowsy. “You’re not violent.”

“I would have.” He says it with such confidence, but even then she knew he was lying.

“You’re not like them, not like the others.” She mumbles, brain hazy and unfiltered.

“The others?” His eyebrows knit together as he sits on the edge of the bed, his hand in hers.

“The others who hurt me.” Her voice is barely a murmur as she gives in to the medications and the rest she desperately needs and falls asleep.

Aaron never thought he’d love a woman like he loved Emily. After Haley he didn’t think he’d ever fall in love again. And then comes Emily, strong, resilient, stubborn, amazing Emily. She sweeps him off his feet, makes him believe in something that he thought he lost. She’s unlike anyone he’s ever met, hard to read to the point of frustration at times.

He realizes why soon after they’ve moved in together. He finds letters, unopened but sent by her father. When he asks her about him she shrugs him off, but not without getting a vacant look in her eye he hates.

It didn’t take a profiler to understand that her relationship with her father wasn’t a good one. But then she comes home angry, starts a fight that he knows has nothing to do with him, but still manages to push his buttons. He stands up from where he had been sitting and she jerks back, her jaw clenching and for the first time he sees fear in her eyes. It’s just a flash, gone as quickly as it came but he understands a little more now.

He doesn’t think she knows that she sometimes flinches at loud noises or backs away if they’re arguing, but he notices every single time. It breaks his heart that she has this fear inside of her, something so engraved in her that it’s like second nature.

And then the compound happens and he hears her.

“I can take it.”

He’s about to go in, doesn’t care that Rossi is telling him no or the fact that he would probably get all the people stuck in there killed. Because Emily was in there, being hurt.

“I can take it.”

The way her voice sounds, detached and monotone, nothing like the Emily he loves forces him to see reason. She was protecting the people in there with her and he would not risk their lives as well as hers, for his own benefit.

He doesn’t leave her side at the hospital, sleeps in an uncomfortable chair for two nights because he refused to leave. And then they get home and she’s high on medications and for the first time she lets the words slip, confirms what he already knew. It didn’t hurt any less.

“You said something last night.” He starts slowly, carefully because he doesn’t want to force her to talk about something she’s not ready to share. But he wasn’t going to pretend it hadn’t happened.

“I did?” She slowly lifts her coffee mug to her lips, the slight pull making her ribs ache. She had refused any more medications, didn’t want to take them unless absolutely necessary even when Aaron had insisted.

“Yes.” He reaches for her hand and she takes it happily, always finding comfort in his touch. “Actually it was more of… an admittance.”

“What did I say?” She sees the worried look on his face, the anxiousness that rarely cracks through his hard shell and she can feel her heartbeat speed up.

“You said that I wouldn’t hurt you, like the others.” He watches at the realization comes over her, first confusion, then anger, sadness and embarrassment. And he hates it, hates all of it. “I already knew.”

“W-what?” She isn’t aware that there’s tears in her eyes until he wipes one from her cheek, “How?”

“I just, I figured it out.” He keeps his voice soft, waits for her to react, to get angry or walk away. But instead she’s gripping his hand tighter, so tight the bones shift and his fingers turn white. He barely notices.

“I’m sorry.”

Whatever he had expected, it wasn’t that and he quickly moves from his chair to kneel beside her chair, not caring that it hurts his knees.

“What?” He feels his heart break when her chin trembles and a few more tears make their way down bruised skin.

“I’m sorry for not telling you.” When his arms wrap around her she lets herself fall into his embrace, into the warmth of him. She falls into the safety of him, of the man who would never hurt her.

“Do not ever apologize.” He presses a kiss to her temple and speaks quietly against her skin. “I’m sorry there was no one there to help you.”

She doesn’t know how long they stay like that, didn’t realize that she’s soaking his shirt as she lets out years of emotions she’s refused to feel. But he’s there, her unwavering support, the man who put her back together again without even knowing it, the person she couldn’t see herself being without.

“You helped me heal, in ways I didn’t even know was possible.” She cups his face in her hands and presses a kiss to his lips. It’s not until she pulls away that he notices the shine in his eyes. “The love you gave me, it healed me.”

“You healed me too.”

It wasn’t a conversation that was over, it wasn’t something that magically healed just because he knew. But it was a start, the start of Emily talking about it, acknowledging it.  

But it was a new beginning, and for that she was grateful.

[separatist-apologist]

You’re on queen of shadows and still think he did nothing wrong?! I agree that he didn’t in crown of midnight, but in QoS he is such a DICK! I guess he didn’t like actually do something wrong, but his attitude rubs me the wrong way. He’s giving toxic, I feel threatened by powerful women vibes

Yeah, so true bestie. He's so toxic for giving up everything and fighting for the city he grew up in to not be destroyed and trying to save Dorians life. He should absolutely bow at Aelins feet when she strolls back in, blames him for Sorcha and Dorians demise, tells Chaol she's going to kill Dorian, and threatens over and over to destroy Rifthold because she hates it. And he's such an ASSHOLE for not being able to read her mind or know the details of the magical happenings, or being able to keep up with her endless secrets.

And like yeah he still does everything she tells him to do but he should have been more obsessed with her about it because Aelin is NEVER wrong and NEVER makes mistakes or misjudges people and she's definitely never impulsive to a destructive degree.

And like- I absolutely get this since no one ever complains that Rowan let's her do whatever she wants with no pushback, which Chaol is doing and is, I guess, also wrong and toxic.

[jankwritten]

yall wanna know how fucked up my anxiety is about some shit

i scroll past a post that's about a topic i don't like. whatever, it's fine. i scroll past a video that's a topic i don't care about. that's normal.

i scroll past a video that's a topic i don't like or care about but the person presenting it is a person of color? i IMMEDIATELY feel immensely guilty and need to "compensate" by "proving" it wasn't because of race by also skipping other random posts, JUST IN CASE someone thinks I'm racist because I didn't want to watch a video on a topic I didn't like or care about, that happened to be presented by a person of color.

this just in on: the police in my brain are loud and i'm scared of them

[wereh0gz]

I'm definitely not the only queer person who's kinda wary of Christian ppl they encounter online right?

Like I see a profile that clearly states they're Christian and they post like Bible verses and shit and I'm just. Hoping they're not queerphobic. Or saying some dumbass shit like "hate the sin love the sinner" or whatever while pretending that's not queerphobic

If they're interacting with me first it's pretty safe to assume they're not gonna be like that bc I'm very obviously queer (🏳️‍🌈 + pronouns in bio) but if it's someone who hasn't interacted with me at all I kind of instinctively avoid interacting with them out of fear of them being that way. Y'know

[toytulini]

i made an oc thats at least nicknamed "Stupid" and im constantly thinking about what a power move that is tbh

[astro-rainbow777]

💐🌸 𝓣𝓪𝓾𝓻𝓾𝓼 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓼 🧸🌱

♉︎ - Happy Taurus Season Everyone!!! In honor of Taurus season, I am continuing the signs through the houses series. I hope y’all enjoy my findings & this post serves you well. Thanks so much for all of the support! Happy Spring & Upcoming Beltane to the Pagan Community <3

🌸 Taurus in the First House ~ Taurus on the ascendant is the embodiment of peace, calm and pleasure. These natives aren’t the most outgoing but leave such a comfortable and cozy first impression. They don’t say more than needs to be said, however they are unlikely to turn down a conversation. They have a soft and natural beauty about them and strong familial values. They enjoy the finer things, have a clean aesthetic and a “rich” aura. Many of them are shorter or more petitie in size, have a pleasing and smooth voice and kind eyes. However, if you mess with the bull, you’ll get the horns! Being on the opposing end of Scorpio, when they cut you off, it is completely. Good luck getting back into their lives because they are a closed book. Why y’all always smell good? Fr tho

🐂 Taurus in the Second House ~ Here the sign is in its ruling house, they do very well in saving their money, are picky about what they eat and indulge in the material pleasures of life. They value loyalty, commitment, stability and security - not to mention their love fashion & the arts. They will tell you they have the most exquisite taste, you would find it very difficult to change their mind. They hold up strong values and morales, what they know to be right and wrong is the truth. This is a very secure personality, they are very comfortable with their bodies, and have a healthy sense of worth and self love. Honestly such a healthy placement - as someone with NO earth in their chart - muhbenaaaace

💰 Taurus in the Third House ~ These natives find security and peace in their childhood homes, where they grew up, the memories of their cousins and siblings. They could be the most stable or the least stable out of their siblings. The way they think, learn and communicate is slow and methodical. They take their time in studying new topics, preferring to stay on the surface of a topic. They may have an artistic and beautiful singing voice, or maybe the way they speak is just very polite and sweet. They were raised with manners and this makes them very charming. They can have a liking for music that moves at a slower pace, classical music, or just a more elegant taste in art.

🥘 Taurus in the Fourth House ~ Their family could be a source of stability and security for them. The mom, mother figure or more feminine role model can be the bread winner in the family, her love language could be gifts, an amazing cook, and give a lot of hugs 🫂 They have stable emotions, it takes a lot to emotionally sway them. It may end up bothering people who try to get an emotional reaction from them because of this. They can be the most grounded one in their family. Their family may view them as realistic, practical and reliable. Family is what gives them sanction from the world.

💝 Taurus in the Fifth House ~ They express them selves in a very material type of way, their flex is their finances. These natives take a lot of pride in what they have...this usually comes from a place of having to work really hard for their things. They love the natural look, minimalist, they like long lasting, high quality, practical fashion. To them that is the best statement to make. They don’t like that trash to treasure look their tastes are refined. They will shower their kids with the finer things and really enjoy providing for them - this will be their love language. They aren’t huge adrenaline junkies and enjoy more grounded, chill hobbies. They definitely don’t mind being alone and love their down time at home…on the couch…snacks…naps…repeat.

🐻 Taurus in the 6th ~ These natives prefer a slow start to their daily routine, and enjoy a slow paced job, with chill yet organized coworkers. The workplace must be something that they don’t hate… because if they hate it and it stresses them out just thinking of going, they won’t work there. Period. They need low maintenance pets as these individuals are very independent in nature. It’s important for their day job to be a place of peace and pleasure for them, and once they are comfortable, it’s gonna be hard to get them to leave. Their job can provide them with sooooo much stability if they have a good one.

🍨 Taurus in the 7th ~ Wining and Dining with your loved ones! Shopping sprees, luxurious and high quality partners. With the ones they love the most, they spoil, eat and they just want to be lazy with them honestly. They want their relationships to be a place of peace for them. It’s important that their partner can support themselves and is stable on their own. It will just cause them stress if they are constantly worrying about having to take care or mommy their partner. It’s possible that they can stay with someone out of fear of the unknown/change, even tho they don’t like them or it’s not working anymore.

🌷 Taurus in the Eighth House ~ Cycles related to self esteem, self worth, and supporting themselves. Honestly, this is a really hard placement to have- they may have times where they stay in ab*sive relationships because they can’t support themselves financially or they are too uncomfortable alone. However, the eighth house is notorious for taking your greatest fear/weakness and turning it into their super power. You just have to get through those lessons and take those leaps of faith to unlock that power and hidden potential! They like to engage in their senses when they’re intimate with their partners and prefer slow love making rather than the raw primal stuff.

🪴 Taurus in the Ninth House ~ These people can be a little fixed in their beliefs, their spiritual beliefs/religion can be a source stability and sanction for them. If they aren’t necessarily spiritual- they could just have a specific philosophy or lifestyle that they stick to. What I admire about these individuals, is they know exactly what they want. When they travel, it has to be somewhere where they know exactly what to expect, somewhere that won’t give them anxiety, and probably a more luxurious staycation type of experience. They could also enjoy a nice nature walk with their loved ones.

👛 Taurus in the Tenth House ~ Every single person I have met with this placement neeeeeed a stable job, they will not leave a job if it provides them with the type of lifestyle they desire. It doesn’t really matter what they are doing for their career as long as it aligns with their values. Their dad/father figure could have been the sole provider and could have made a huge impact on their reputation. This is definitely a daddies money placement 💀 - sorry if that’s triggering for anyone lol. The father figure could be super down to earth and chill, enjoy cooking or just be way too overly indulgent in a negative manifestation.

👒 Taurus in the Eleventh House ~ Is the stay at home friend, doesn’t like to get out of their comfort zone to meet new people. Much likely to want to stay inside and bond with their community in a space that is familiar and inviting to them. Their community could be their sanction and be the most stable part of their lives. They enjoy cooking and creating art for their friends. Anything to bring peace to their homies senses! For their friends, the Taurus eleventh house native’s place is a home away from home. How special 🥹

👄 Taurus in the Twelfth House ~ When it comes to matters of the twelfth house, spirituality, isolation, ect. - these individuals may like to keep things light and on the surface. They are comfortable being alone, in fact they consider it to be comfortable and safe. Their spirituality isn’t something they spend time questioning, and they could be very comfortable with the unknown, they enjoy their own curious nature. They are endearing to their own selves, however sometimes their sense of worth could be confusing. They may have a hard time understanding their own values and morals, preferring to just go with the flow, everyday they are a new person trying on different personalities, hobbies and styles! The possibilities are endless! It’s quite an interesting placement. One more thing….secret indulgences…the silent snacker

Smell ya later!

[nothorses]

"the public education system is intently evil and all teachers are abusive because it was the worst experience ever for me personally"

guys, look, I'm legitimately sorry that happened to you. that's fucked up. it shouldn't have happened, and it shouldn't be allowed to happen again to you or anyone else. I'm sorry.

public school was hard for me too, at times, and I'm still suffering the consequences for the harsh grading, the arbitrary deadlines, the hours of completely useless-to-me homework. I could name a few teachers who have been pretty fucking terrible. the fact that nobody considered getting me evaluated for ADHD has had an impact on my self image and academic success that I can't erase.

and also.

I grew up in an area where education, in particular, is incredibly progressive-leaning. educators are working really hard to create and try out education philosophies and practices that prioritize kids and their learning, rather than teachers and what they think kids should learn.

My sex ed was comprehensive, and came entirely from school. My gay sixth grade teacher taught me about HIV/AIDs in a useful, accurate way. In high school, I learned about the way orgasms work & I was prepared not to feel shame for normal stuff.

I learned that Communism was not what the USSR actually practiced, and what it really means. I learned about atrocities and, specifically, the genocide of indigenous people committed in/by the US. I learned about the military industrial complex, the school-to-prison pipeline, and I learned about manifestations of racism specific to my local area. I learned about Stonewall, and the intersection of the civil rights movement with gay rights and disability justice.

My creative writing teacher taught us about LSD, and the real reasons we shouldn't do it, after a hilariously ineffective assembly run by some local cops. He spoke gently, carefully, and emphatically about his friends and his own experiences. Later in the semester, he read us a story he wrote about two gay men finding each other in a deeply homophobic environment.

My sci-fi teacher made me feel safe & seen as a kid with "weird" interests. My US History teacher helped me research and put together a 10-page paper on the modern relevance and mission of Feminism. My government teacher made me feel appreciated for the work I put into the class, and the thought I put into what I said in it, even though he disagreed with a lot of it. My sixth grade teacher bought me books to read with his personal money, whichever ones I asked for. My third grade teacher made me feel safe. My science teacher in middle school made me excited for and passionate about science, and saw and nurtured the effort I put into her class.

A lot of stuff sucks, absolutely. But I am seeing new teaching methods being tried out all the time, and I am watching teachers get really excited when I teach their students about the roots of modern graffiti in US black history & to question property laws, and just...

There's hope. there are so many people doing so much work to make things better. so many people agree with you on what education should be, and are trying so fucking hard to put that into action, and so many public schools- not just teachers, but whole schools and even districts- are really doing that work. so much is getting better.

I had more to say, about necessary childcare and trusted adults and outside contacts and time away from abusive family. But like. Please just sit down and listen to more people on this, and please talk to educators and education professionals about what's really going on in this big huge world of philosophy, science, and practice.

[venuslut]

FANTASIZING ABOUT a whiny Choso Kamo ♡︎.

He’s whiny because it the first time he’s ever felt the euphoric sensation of his cock sliding deliciously across your warm gummy walls as you rode him. Bouncing slowly on his cock and grinding your clit on his pelvis whenever you came down. You leaned your body back while holding his thighs for support, and gave him a full view of what you were doing to him, watching as he disappears into your cunt, and the way a small bulge forms on your lower stomach from having to accommodate him inside you.

His face contorted with pleasure and quiet moans escape his lips. He grips the sheets instead of holding your hips, knowing that he’d hurt you if he held you, and that was the last thing Choso ever wanted. He’d be plagued with guilt if he hurt the first person to introduce him to such pleasures and he cared for. “Y-Y/n, fuck… ‘t’s so good,” he moaned and he threw his head back with a whine when he felt you clench around him. It wasn’t hard to pick up on the fact that his sounds were exciting you, even if he didn’t intend for it too, but he’s glad he can please you in some way.

No matter how much Choso wants you to speed up, he won’t say a word in fear of being too demanding or needy. You find him so cute too, watch him whimper and bite his lower lip while your wetness coated his shaft, making every inch of your joined bodies slick and slippery. His flushed face was scrunched up as he screwed his eyes shut, caught up in the moment and feeling himself become fully immersed, the only thing he’s aware of is the way you squeeze around him. “fuck— I can’t... ‘m not gonna last,” he whined, upset that he was close already.

Unable to handle it any longer, Choso sat up from lying on his back and grabbed your hips with shaky hands. He peppered sweet kisses along your jawline and down to your neck before burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Dove, little bird, let me— fuck… can I fuck you? Please, i’ll make it quick babe, just... ngh! let me use you.” And the minute you give him permission, he’s rutting into you like an animal. Setting a relentless and sloppy rhythm that was designed to bring him closer to the edge. His moans grew louder at the new pace and his fingers dug into your skin, but trying to be mindful of your frail body. They were like music to your ears and you had a sudden desire to make him moan more, to make him come undone from your cunt alone. Choso's grip on your hips tightened even more as he felt an unfamiliar tingle building in his body, but he knew it wassignaling his own impending release, learning for your ‘private’ lessons. His hips picked up speed, thrusting into her pussy like a possessed man.

“Are you going to cum? Going to cum inside of my pussy?” You pant, your breath warm against his ear as your hands explored the expanse of his chest. "That's it, baby," you grunted, your voice deep and thick with pleasure. "Give yourself to me." His head was spinning from your brazen words and a pathetic whimper escaped his lips. With one final thrust, Choso felt his release wash over him. He grunted, his body tensing as he emptied himself into you, his cum mingling with your wetness. The pleasure radiated through him, leaving him momentarily breathless and sated. It’s like he’s walking on clouds and he’s entered a whole new world, a world filled with of pleasure and happiness with endless possibilities. His vision goes black and all he can think about is how good it feels to push himself to the pinnacle of joy, and he doesn’t think he can ever give this up now that he’s got a taste for it.

But Choso doesn’t stop fucking you, adamant about helping you see the light just like he did. Even though he’s fucking himself into overestimation, all he cares about is making you finish. Thankfully, your orgasm wasn’t to far off after being filled with Choso’s seed. You grip his back and dig your nails into his skin, dragging down to leave angry scratches along the expanse of his back, making Choso groan in pain. Finally teetering off the edge and cumming on his cock, bucking your hips wildly from the intensity of the orgasm and cum drips out of you. A loud cry ripped from your throat.

When you come down from your high, both of you are left panting and sitting in silence as you stew in your orgasmic bliss. Choso came up from your neck, opting to gaze at you. He held your hair back, exposing your flushed face to his view, your eyes glazed over with pleasure. The sight of your beautiful features contorted by pleasure was almost too much for him to bear. As your body trembled against him, Choso felt himself become hard again, ready to go and experience that state of bliss for another time. You whined when you felt him harden inside of you, reawakening your own desires again. Choso pouted cutely, kneading one of your breasts between his fingers, kissing the base of your throat, and rolling his hips to provide friction.

“Again… make me cum again please, dove. Can’t get enough of your pussy.”

[diejager]

God! I love dark price, please write a part of dark price and reader with his son (I want a mini price 😔) I think it would be a boy 😅 but I'll leave it up to you <3 have a good day, best writer on Tumblr <3

Cage Cw: forced pregnancy, forced relationship, MENTION OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, DARKFIC, tell me if I missed any.

“Mama! Mama!” Two, childlike voices called out to you, their tones light and jovial with a child’s innocence, untainted by the horrors of the world.

Rapid pads followed after their screams, running steps heading your way as you turned to look at the source, putting down the knife you used to cut the ripe and fresh carrot for supper. Two pairs of hands grabbed at your pants, wide, blue eyes staring up at you with joy and wonder in their pretty eyes, they begged for attention.

You loved them. You truly did. From the lingering fat on their three-year old cheeks, their round, doe eyes in a stormy, blue shade, their chubby limbs and fingers holding onto you to the soft locks in the shade of your hair. From the adorable behaviour, pliant and obedient, always eager to listen to you if it meant receiving praises and kisses from you, to the innocence in their being, untouched by the cruelty you’ve seen when you were still working. But everything about them reminded you of him, of their father, of your husband. Your boy and daughter were spitting images of their father, only with your shade of hair.

“What wrong?” You crouched to their height, thumb rubbing the blue ink off the fat of your daughter’s cheek with your clean hand, you’d left the both of them in the living room with a box of coloured pens and paper to draw with.

“Hungry, Mama,” Olivia moaned, clutching her shirt with an adorable pout, reaching for her brother for help to convey her hunger.

You cooed at her, picking the both of them up, bobbing them until they sat comfortably on each side of you, arms wrapped around your shoulder as they cried and moaned about being hungry, about their tumtums making sound. You put them on separate chairs, handing them a small cracker to eat while your finished making your soup. Olivia and Arthur - you precious twins - liked the bland crackers, wanting something to bite into while their teeth grew, to stop the itch and discomfort of growing teeth.

“Mama’s almost finished, it’ll be done once Dada’s home, okay?” Your kids were smart, they understood words that most wouldn’t at this age. You chalked it up to them having your husband’s genes, his smart and quick decisions made it nearly impossible to beat him in a battle of wits, you learned that the hard way.

As if summoned by your voice, you heard the lock click, announcing your husband’s return from work. Hearing their father open the door, Arthur and Olivia jumped off their seats and rushed to the door, smiling and giggling, overjoyed to see their father home after leaving early in the morning. He bent down to kiss them, bringing them into his chest and blowing kisses, a few dozen on their forehead, another dozen on each cheek and a few on their pink nose, small and adorable.

“Go on, give Ma and Pa a moment, yeah?” He smiled softly, petting them on the head before coaxing them away, wanting a moment to hold you on his own.

He pulled you towards him, hands grasping onto your hips, strong and unyielding in his hold. He pressed his lips to your cheek, slowly trailing down to your lips with a searing and possessive kiss, demanding your attention and whole being. He nipped at your lip, teeth biting on your lower lip until you let out a small whimper, audible to him and you alone, protecting your children from Price’s darker side.

“John,” you mumbled, panting when he pulled away, your lips swollen from his rough kiss.

When you tried to move back, you were stopped by his grip on your nap, unaware that his hand snaked up to hold you still, keeping your face near his. His stormy eyes brewed with a cyclone, a violent and powerful torrent of emotions that had you shudder in fear and apprehension. He was strung high, pulled tight on the edges, his nerves burned to its core without any relief for him to come back down. You knew you would have to help him relax, to surrender your body to his whims.

“Let’s… let’s just eat dinner and get the kids to bed first, all right?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

[ghoulphile]

no use cryin' over spilled milk | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.8 k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, frottage, lactation kink, pregnant!reader, fingerfucking, praise kink, breast play, the ghoul calls reader pretty mama, he's a pervert who wants to lend a 'helping' hand ➥ summary | based off this ask; oops being an experiment from vault 4 where you may be the first rad resistant human pregnant with a possibly rad resistant baby, and you come across the ghoul who helps you get to a safe place but then he gets attached with you and the baby 🥺 (this is just me trying to insert a lactation kink somewhere i'm sorry) ➥ notes | uhhhh pls let me know if i missed anything, my brain is dribbling out my ears (its 3:44 am and i have work at 8 am rip) but the parasites persist. i'll do the tag list when i wake up ❤️ masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

Going topside wasn’t an easy decision.

In fact, bile bitter regret often lingers in the back of your throat - a lump that stifled the air in your lungs.

And while you might’ve been bioengineered to survive better under these harsh wasteland conditions, every time you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you're catapulted headlong into paralyzing self doubt; alone and rudderless.

No one lives in the vaults - not truly.

Birdie (and the others) warned you of what awaited beyond those lead-lined walls. But you couldn’t abide spending the rest of your life trapped in a cage, albeit a gilded one.

Not anymore.

Oh no, you wanted to feel a real breeze instead of air pumped through the HVAC. Experience the sun baking warm into your skin like fresh bread instead of the artificial heat of the UV lamp used for mandatory light therapy sessions. Complain about the chafe of sand in your shoes and hear the crunch of dirt under foot instead of a hollow clunk of sterile metal.

To witness first hand all the sights, sounds, and smells this world offers. 

Only… you didn’t expect it to be this hard.

Nor did you expect to be pregnant when setting off into the great unknown on your own (a definite oversight on your part [you really shouldn’t have had one last hurrah before hitting the road]).

Through trial and error, motion sicknesses that swing into crippling nausea as manic energy - your first taste of true freedom! - dwindled into dragging fatigue, you found a happy medium. None of which would have been possible had it not been for the most unlikely of companions.

Ghouls; who knew, huh?

Sure, you’d heard of them from the rotating door of visitors that found themselves at Vault 4, but you’d never seen them. While you grew up surrounded by visible mutations, seeing the battlefield of his body was off putting; how a person could survive a patina of burns and patchwork slices without unraveling at the seams was beyond you.

And kind of frightening.

But he took it in stride, introducing himself as Ghoul. Refused to divulge anything else of substance no matter how much you poked and prodded.  His life pre-bomb was a complete mystery filled with plot holes and unanswered questions (which is exactly what he preferred).

You learned to be comfortable with his meandering conversations, and all the words he spoke that said much of nothing. And what you did glean, you did so through observation alone. 

He was alone - had been for a very long time.

He was very old - one of the last of his kind.

And he was, in his own way, very kind - at least by wasteland standards.

“The fuck you doin’?”

Pausing, you stop mid push and hover awkwardly on your hands and knees. The vault suit pulls taut across your hips, pinching behind your knees uncomfortably. Your toes squeak in your shoes, socks thoroughly soaked through with sweat.

It’s been unseasonably hot (or it’s the hormones). Whatever the case, this is the first semi-decent lodging you’ve camped in for weeks, and you’re not about to miss an opportunity to freshen up.

And maybe find a way to soothe the building ache in your tits - flesh swollen tender and nipples rubbed raw.

“I’m just, uh, gonna,” you motion towards the back of the house, the askew bathroom door clinging to its hinges by a corner, “y’know, f-freshen up. See if they don’t still have some water.”

The Ghoul scans you up and down, gimlet-eyed. “S’that so?”

You huff, your knees starting to ache.

Being five months pregnant throws your center of gravity for a loop, the atmosphere weighing extra heavy on your bones. It doesn’t help that the baby’s decided sitting directly on your bladder with a foot tucked under your ribs is the best position.

“Didn’t know I needed permission to take a piss now,” you snipe. Usually, you try to reign in the hormones but the day’s been too long and you’re in pain. Anyone would be a little snippy (right?). “Can I do that on my own or do you need to watch, Mr. Ghoul?”

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his gaze glinting from beneath the rim of his hat as he tips his head. “Better watch it, sweetheart,” he says. “Otherwise, I might have’ta wash your mouth out with soap.”

Pushing yourself up with a grunt, you determinedly ignore the raspy chuckle that follows as you waddle towards the bathroom. Cussing him out all the while in your mind.

While he’s been ‘nicer’ today - stopping for extra breaks, even packing it in several hours earlier than usual because he noticed how weary you looked - he’s still an asshole.

The toilet’s gone, the tub’s tipped sideways, the linoleum’s cracked, and closing the door sounds like a pack of howling mole rats but its functional. When you catch your reflection in the spider web fractures of the mirror, you grimace.

The wastes have certainly left their mark on you. Gone is the prim-and-proper vault dweller, replaced by a gremlin of a woman Overseer Benjamin would surely scowl at.

A true ‘surfie’ now.

“Great,” you groan, scrubbing a palm over your face. “Just - ugh!”

You’re caked in grime, a steak of dirt smeared across the bridge of your nose. Mysterious stains darken the blue fabric, the golden stripes of your suit an off-putting grey.

Your hair clumps in greasy chunks. You’re glossy with sweat, and while your curves have plumped up over the last few months, you didn’t realize just how much until now.

The vault suit’s always been tight - now it clings and creases in unflattering places. And there’s nothing you can do about it, unless the Ghoul is willing to spare a sewing kit.

You could let the waist out some…

What the hell am I gonna do if he won’t? There’s no way I’ll fit if this baby gets any bigger. Shit, I look like a fucking sausage. Your hand cradles the side of your stomach, stroking over the bump with a frown. This is all your fault, you little parasite.

“You better be so fucking cute - the cutest goddamn baby in the wasteland. Or I will riot.”

Tugging down the zipper over your breasts is heaven, the swollen flesh spilling out of the parting fabric, no longer compressed. It’s almost enough to make you cry as you struggle to tug the lycra off your shoulders, the fabric putting up a fight.

After some awkward contortions that pull uncomfortably at the muscles of your shoulder blades, you manage to wrangle yourself free.

The temptation to burn the stupid goddamn suit is almost too much to resist, but then you’d really be traipsing around the wasteland in the nude and just… no.

Peeling off your undershirt is another story altogether, the soft cotton feeling like sandpaper as it scrapes over sensitive skin. Your nerves tingle with awareness, bolts of pain shooting through your nipples with every shift.

Quick like a bandaid, you think, taking a steadying inhale.

It’s a miracle you don’t scream.

Tears cling to your lashes, your nose running as you toss the shirt to the side with one hand and cradle your chest with the other. Sure, you’ve had tenderness with your period but this kind of pain? A whole new level.

You almost don’t know what to do with yourself.

How is this fair - aren’t you suffering enough?

Sniffling, you peer down at your tits and gingerly cup them with your palms. Swollen hard and warm to the touch; a heavy weight crushing your ribs.

Do I really have to milk myself like a fucking brahmin? Another bolt of lightning crackles through your nerve endings as if in response. Fine. God, this is embarrassing.

Only any attempt at touching your nipples produces pure agony, shards of glass biting into delicate skin.

No matter how slight your touch, no matter how gentle your fingers - it doesn’t work. Leaves you more distraught and in pain than when you began as inflamed nerve endings crackle and burn.

And when the tears truly start, the dam breaks. It’s not long before they drip down your cheeks in fat rivulets, your breath hitching from you in pathetic little exhales.

Your fist shoves against your mouth in an attempt to smother the sounds, teeth sinking into your knuckle until you leave sore indents.

But you should know better, not only does the Ghoul have heightened senses (he’s taunted you constantly with this fact like the asshole he is), but he’s uncannily perceptive in a very annoying way.

You don’t hear the squeal of the door, but you do sense his presence behind you; the rad warm burn of his body as he stops a scant few inches away. You feel his breath against the nape of your neck, the barest brush of his chest as he inhales.

“You ready ta stop bein’ stubborn?” he hums. “I thought I told you not ta wait s’long.”

Your voice warbles from you, “G’way.” You curl into yourself, shoulders hunching as you hang your head. “Don’t need your help.”

The Ghoul snorts. “Cuz you doin’ so well on your own, huh?”

“I resent that.” You shoot him a weak glare, the animosity ruined by the crumble of your lips. “I really, really do.”

You hate always having to rely on him, so desperate to prove that you can take care of yourself only to have every effort to do so thrown back in your face.

Shit, you hate how right Birdie was, “Honey, you won’t last five minutes on your own. Please stay here with us where it’s safe.”

“Well, maybe so. But pickers can’t be choosers, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a languid roll of the shoulders. “Ain’t no use cryin’ over spilled milk. C’mon, the longer you wait, the worse it’s gon be.”

“I just - you don’t understand…”

He reaches around you to set his hat on the sink, the dwindling light of twilight creeping in through the holes in the roof to bathe him in its bloody light.

He looks like a grotesque demon that clawed its way from the depths of hell. It gets your pulse thudding, electric awareness an unwelcome visitor as it roosts behind your navel.

“I understand plenty. Now, let me.”

Not an offer - not really.

More akin to a demand, one wrapped up pretty like a gift. You’ve been here many times before, and while the Ghoul proffers his help under the guise of not wanting to hear your bitching and moaning, the hungry gleam of his eyes as they rake over your face say otherwise.

If it’s one thing you’ve learned in your travels with him, it’s this: he is entirely self-serving. He offers because he wants to suck on a set of pretty tits. If you happen to cream your panties while he does, well, he counts it as a win-win.

Quid pro quo.

And what you hate more than how utterly correct everyone is about life on the surface, is how needy he makes you. How desperate and dumb and dripping he’s got you by the end, drunk off the flick of his tongue and the rasp of his touch.

Because it’s so hard to be strong in the face of pain when the solution is right there; open-palmed.

“...Fine, just don’t - don’t leave marks this time, okay?”

A slow waking smile creaks across his face, and he says, “I ain’t makin’ any promises, sweetheart.”

Your stomach swoops, and your thighs clench.

Shit.

Scarred lips work over tender flesh as a talented tongue flicks and swirls over the bumps of your areola, the tip digging into your nipple and drawing the swollen nub into a hot mouth. You whimper, arms tossed over the Ghoul’s broad shoulders.

Cold ceramic digs into the base of your spine, your body crowded back against the sink as he plasters himself to your front. Cuts off any escape routes and refuses to let you squirm away from the overwhelming sensations as he suckles.

Heavy palms grope at the plush curves of your hips, fingertips digging into the fat.

His lips pop off your nipple with a sticky smack. “Always taste s’fucking good,” he groans against your sternum. “Got the prettiest set a tits in the wasteland.”

“Hnn! N-Not so hard.”

While you say that, you don’t mean it - not really. Your pussy throbs in time with your heartbeat, clit swollen and aching for friction. Your inner thighs are a mess of slick, your vault suit caught around your knees.

He never touches you below the waist directly (some boundaries still exist between you two), but at this point in your pregnancy, you’re so sensitive a gentle breeze could set you off.

“Heh, ain’t you know lyin’s a sin?” he says.

A scarred cheek drags over the swell of your breast, the rasp of rad burn alighting your nerves. Bolts of desire ricochet down your spine, fizzle like Nuka Cola on your tongue. He presses an open mouth kiss to your nipple, his tongue flicking out to massage the tender bud.

At the taste of your skin, his cock twitches where its grinding against your thigh. You feel him through his ragged pinstripe slacks, his shaft a thick line of heat.

It’s probably the hormones (you refuse to admit its anything else) but just the thought of touching him, of sinking down onto his erection - feeling how fucking good he’d stretch you out and fill you up - makes you dizzy.

You pant, your voice distinctly whiny when you say, “Please, d-do something. It still hurts.”

His grin reminds you of the mongrels roaming the wastelands. “Sh,” he hushes you. “I got you, sweetheart.”

The tips of his fingers brush along the side of your swollen stomach. Your heart flips in your chest, your breath catching as he follows the contours of your body, reaching down to brush over the skin of your mound. This is new, he’s never done this before. It’s simultaneously as arousing as it is terrifying.

“Can smell how wet you are for me,” he says, tone low and gruff. “You gonna be a good girl for me, ain’t you?”

“I-”

Then his mouth is slurping at your tit, his teeth biting down on your nipple gently as those strong fingers dip between your thighs. Blunt nails scratch through your pubic hair, a calloused pad swirling circles around your slippery clit. Your hips jump, your head rolling back between your shoulders as a loud moan rips itself from your throat.

You arch back so far your belly presses against the Ghoul’s, your tits smothering his face.

You think, half deliriously, it’s a good thing he doesn’t have a nose otherwise you might’ve broken it.

“Shit, that’s so - oh, fuck, please, please, please!’

Your legs widen to make room for his hand as yours fly up to grab his biceps, nails biting into the rough leather of his duster.

His tongue flutters across your areola. “C’mon, pretty mama, give it ta me.”

“Oh.” Sparks dance behind your eyes, your knees shaking as the Ghoul strokes over your folds, tests your wetness and the give of your cunt as he plays with your entrance. “Right there,” you gasp. “I’m gonna…”

He grunts, tugging on your nipple with his teeth.

The sharp bite of pain shoots through you, deepens the kindling warmth behind your navel that steadily builds and builds and builds. You feel on the very edge, nerves plucked like the keys of a piano.

So close you can taste it.

Then a tingling starts in the tips of your fingers.

Burns its way up your arms to settle in the weight of your chest, pins and needles pricking across the skin of your tits, lancing through the swollen buds of your nipples.

You tremble, the relief bringing tears to your eyes as tears the heaviness releases in a warm flood, your milk letting down to flow into the Ghoul’s eagerly pulling mouth.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he moans, chasing after the taste by nuzzling into your chest. His cock ruts against you. “Took you’re sweet damn time, didn’t you, darlin’?”

Your head spins, hazy thoughts scattering like confetti.

Endorphins simmer through your veins as you float on a cloud of cotton softness. Reality seems worlds away, your vision blurry as you focus on the points of contact between your bodies. The stretch of his fingers plunging into your pussy to stroke over the front wall.

Mouth slack, your hands creep up the Ghoul’s arms to trace over the sides of his neck, watch the dance of your fingers over his skin. “It feels s’good,” you slur. “Please don’t stop - wanna cum just like this.”

“Heh, wouldn’t dream of it.”

[punkpandapatrixk]

❤️‍🩹I Just Want to be Loved ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

We attract terrible loves for various reasons; so many lessons; but now sorrow has got to lessen. Let’s reveal patterns by exhuming roots. We’ve got to stop this cycle of disappointments. Done being made to feel as if we’re hard to love.

We’re not hard to love. Many of us were simply denied love, warmth and affection as we were growing up… Don’t know how to love self; don’t know how to love others; basically don’t know how to even receive Love… Who’s to blame now?

Why the hell were so many children denied love, warmth, affection…?

What are you going to do with yourself when you were denied love, warmth and affection as you were growing up?

☆♪°・.

‘The child who isn’t embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.’ – an African proverb

People denied warmth and affection tend to fall into a desperate loop of fishing for attention as a result of love-deficiency, right? Some learn to lick love off a knife; some pursue success (whatever that means) all too frantically; some…shoot complete strangers in broad daylight; and some who ain’t got the guts to murder complete strangers in public places go instead for antagonising strangers on social media… Gosh, that is desperate.

But you know what, not all hope is lost because there’s still plenty of us who are blessed with this incredibly RARE thing called self-awareness. There are plenty of us who will take our traumas to the graveyard than pass them down the next generations.

You, don’t deserve to have your sanity and your Life ruined by some psychos who didn’t know how to love you. Reclaim lost pieces of yourself by understanding THREE Houses in your natal chart, babe:

4th House: your roots; tells you what was lacking in your home; explains your erratic 10th House ambitions

8th House: your marriage or your desire for a bond like it; this the House where trauma manifests itself in full spectrum

11th House: your wish fulfilment; where you connect with people who support your visions; breeds a healthy sense of connection, even community

SONG: Emptiness by BoA

MOVIE: Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Because I Can’t Even Trust Myself

VIBE: Trust by Hamasaki Ayumi

lost pieces (pertaining to 4th House) – Ace of Pentacles Rx

It’s clear your childhood didn’t offer a sense of stability or security—the physical kind that children usually need. It could be that a grownup left early or it could be that you moved around a lot, so you easily lost contact with new friends you’d just made. In essence, it feels like you grew up feeling ‘everything disappears eventually; everyone leaves eventually’.

Some of you might’ve grown up not having a lot of material resources, but for the majority of you tuning into this Pile, it was more a feeling of a lack of warmth. For children, the pain of neglect and a lack of emotional connection do really affect our physical health more severely. You might’ve grown up poor and sickly due to all the grownups around you being inattentive, unaffectionate, and just…unreliable at best.

Because of this awareness, from a young age you realised you would have to do everything yourself. You wanted to grow up quickly and do your own things your own ways. It’s not like you had to grow up fast, you wanted to grow up fast to have your freedom and power! It was…hard to trust adults. It was hard to trust the world at large.

growing pains (pertaining to 8th House) – 8 of Pentacles

On the path of growing up, I think you became a hard worker of sort? This is very nuanced though—there are layers to your developing yourself to become a hardworking person. In many ways, you grew up responsible because you didn’t want to become like the adults who had disappointed you. But since this sense of ‘responsibility’ is a product of neglect and trauma…this is coming off as your feeling responsible for everything. Everything!

Some of you could’ve been too hard on yourself, expecting way too much for your age. You’ve felt like you’re always the one with everything to prove. It’s hard living like that. It feels like you’ve put so much effort into keeping everything together, and yet, nobody sees how much you care. Nobody truly understands the fear in your mind and pain you carry in your heart.

In matters of relationship, you cling extra hard to friends or lovers, too; because deep down you’re afraid of losing things and people, again and again. This unhealthy attachment—and to some extent, controlling behaviour—is truly your wounded inner child attempting frantically to keep your Reality from falling apart…

reclamation (pertaining to 11th House) – 4 of Cups

I’m very sure that at some point in Life, your Higher Self and team of Spirit Guides are going to kick in and meddle with your Earthly business. For some people, it’s possible you could lose contact with everybody you’ve ever known in Life and go into a hermit mode to find yourself again. For some, it could be that your whole Life is simply flipped, without necessarily losing key people in your Life, for you to look at Life and human connections from a very different point of view.

It’s going to be hard, of course. Emotionally, it could be devastating. Themes of abandonment and betrayal are big in your incarnation. But you know, ultimately, all of these challenges serve to remind you that the Cup of Love and Affection you’ve been looking for has always been right inside of you. You’ve had a bitter time with a lot of people because deep down you couldn’t trust them. You couldn’t trust other people’s loyalty because you didn’t even believe that you’re worthy of that Love and Loyalty you yearn for.

Your Spirit Guides are saying, that although at some point in Life things are going to get really tough, know that when you’ve graduated those lessons, you’re going to be rewarded with the most beautiful Soulmate-shit friendships, familyship and relationship. Truth be told, part of your Soul’s scenario in this incarnation is to find your Soul Tribe; and find your Tribe you shall~

A L O N E🔻💗

ALL of you – Red Alchemist (John Dee)

becoming ONE and whole – Priestess of Healing

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Pile 2 – Misled by My Own Compassion

VIBE: Cry Me A River by Julie London

lost pieces (pertaining to 4th House) – Knight of Cups

It’s very likely your 4th House is in a Water sign, but if not, you’re still very much a Water-y person; perhaps your Ascendant or Moon is in a Water sign, or that you have Neptune/Moon near/in your 4th, 7th or 11th House. All of this generally makes you a deeply compassionate person. No matter what outer appearances give, you strive to look deeper into a person’s Soul. You have so much empathy and you want to believe in the good of people.

Alas! This rotten world doesn’t make it too easy. This world is not a world where kindness and compassion are truly rewarded, if we don’t learn to be a tad cruel ourselves. You’re not in the wrong for being so genuinely good and compassionate; it’s this world that’s the wrong world. You know that? Therefore, it is paramount you learn to be a bitchilante! But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In spite of this PAC’s intro, I sense the majority of you tuning into this Pile actually grew up quite well. Many of you actually grew up in loving homes and that’s why it’s been quite challenging for you to grapple with the realness of the ugliness of the world outside of your loving home. Really…people in the real world…are monsters! And you were taken aback!

But some of you instead most likely grew up in chaotic, battlefield-esque homes and that’s why you’ve striven to be so good to a point of detriment.

growing pains (pertaining to 8th House) – 0 The Fool Rx

Be that as it may, you being you… Well, you do put in the effort to try and understand what makes monsters the way that they are, right? It’s all good and wonderful, until you get yourself in deep trouble where nobody can save you but your own monstrosity. Depending on your age when reading this, this could be something that’s happened in the past or will happen; where you will be forced to grow up in the sense of seeing the world as it is and get firm with assholes!

Dr Jordan Peterson has this gold shit to summarise this spiritual lesson you will be taking at some point in Life: ‘You should be a monster, an absolute monster, and then you should learn to control it.’ Well, that’s male speech. In female speech, we just say: ‘you gotta grow up and be a bitchilante!’

Be a bitch only to those who deserve it. How would you protect yourself from monsters if you don’t have the strength to fight them at their own game, darling? If you’re harmless, weak as a fawn, if anything, the real monsters in the world are going to toy with your sanity: ‘I saw my “crazy” side once and decided I wouldn’t be involved with anyone that would take me out of my peace like that ever again.’

Be a bitchilante. That whole concept of ‘good, harmless, love and light, positivity-only’ bullshit was put out there not to really make you good but to weaken you against the truly monstrous ones. WAKE UP, BITCH!

reclamation (pertaining to 11th House) – 4 of Pentacles

So? So what if you’re selective with your affection? Not everybody deserves your compassion. That’s for sure. There are many people in the world and you can’t be nice to all of them. One at point or another, you’re gonna be a villain in someone’s story—so what? Everybody else is the main character of their own Stories; that, you can’t control.

Be careful that you’re not falling victim to your own narcissism in wanting to be praised in everybody’s Story, yeah? So then, pertaining to your 11th House, weirdly enough, your wish fulfilment is in the form of a psychological liberation from your own idea of yourself in the minds of others. I sense that if you’re East Asian this is gonna resonate much harder and louder LOL

Anyway, I want to assure you that once you’ve graduated from your spiritual lessons, you will be met with unique, courageous, rebellious weirdos who will be just as clear as you are about what it truly means to be a good person in a world that’s often very bad. How good should a person be to truly be considered a good person?

‘If I offended you, cry me a river. I’ll bring snacks and a raft. I will literally float down your tears eating chips and working on my tan.’ – Fuckology

A L O N E🔻💚

ALL of you – Green Geographer (Gerardus Mercator)

becoming ONE and whole – Priestess of Success

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Pile 3 – Lights Out; I’m Out to Find Myself

VIBE: To. X by Taeyeon

lost pieces (pertaining to 4th House) – Ace of Cups Rx

I’ve to preface this Pile by saying this the pile that gets a little violent…

You were originally such a positive, happy-go-lucky kid, but quite early on, this world gave you so much darkness. So many reasons to be sad. It’s not been a very kind life, to be honest. Defo many of you have tragical placements here—your 4th or 5th House could start or end in Scorpio; have Lilith/Pluto/Chiron/Saturn there or in the sign of Cancer/Pisces; or it could be that your Venus/Moon is imprisoned in the 8th or 12th House and harshly aspected, too...

If your childhood has been violent or mightily confusing, it’s a group thing, OK? You can think like that. It’s not your fault. Know that practically everybody who has these harsh placements has gone through very similar things as you. So you’re really not the only one who’s failing—whatever that means. You’ve been gaslit a lot into believing there’s something wrong with you, but it was your environment that was just filled with totally terrible Human beings. That much I’d like to assure you.

It wasn’t natural how you were abused psychologically and emotionally. The people around you drew a parallel to Cinderella’s stepsisters in the Disney classic. It’s ridiculous like that. I think you grew up terribly lonely and created comfort characters in your head to console your sorrows? It’s very likely that your comfort characters were in actuality a mirror fragment of your Soul Family’s existence locked in your memory bank.

growing pains (pertaining to 8th House) – XIV Temperance Rx

Life, unfortunately, isn’t a Disney movie. As a result of the psychological and emotional abuse you’ve endured in childhood, your friendships and relationships might’ve been quite turbulent, at times even violent. Juuust a small number of you could’ve dealt with being called a violent kid, or you could’ve struggled with anger management and have terrible tantrums. All of these have made human connections quite difficult to navigate.

It’s not like you want to be a nasty person, right? Many times, you couldn’t help the way you react/respond to what’s being said and unsaid because, somehow, there are many things that people do and say that trigger a trauma response in you. There’s a very difficult Mars thingy going on here. I think many of you resonating with this Pile have some difficult Mars (ruler of Scorpio) placements/aspects that affect the way you manifest human connections in your Life.

Speaking in terms of synastry, it could be that you’ve attracted a great deal of people whose Mars aspected badly in your natal chart—consequently triggering bad traumas and manifesting violent outbursts in your connections. Ultimately though, these negative experiences with other people could’ve enforced your belief about how unlovable you are, which, really, is a false belief…

reclamation (pertaining to 11th House) – 5 of Wands

It is a false Reality that you’re unlovable or unworthy of a healthy relationship. That bullshit was implanted in you through the creation of a harsh environment that caused you a great deal of rage. Of course, you’re accountable for how you behave towards other people, but your foundation was never quite healthy or peaceful or harmonious, so… How about we put it all behind us and focus on healing? After all, it’s not like the people you’ve had a beef with were completely innocent? XP

It's kinda selfish to think like that, but you can depend on your own discernment to distinguish who amongst the people you’ve hurt or had a beef with to apologise to. Remember: sometimes apologies only make you weaker and looking at the unique bullshit astrological placements you were born with… apologising to the wrong fucker would only get you gaslit even more! So, don’t. Don’t apologise for the distress you experienced under other people’s lack of support.

Burn that bridge and detach yourself from that old stinking world. With your sheer willpower, you have it in you to rebuild your own little world of love and peace. After all, those harsh placements you were born with, are you aware of just how much power they bestow you? These placements come with a lot of turbulences but once you graduate your first Saturn Return, they also give you a burst of power unlike any other!

Lights out. Not entertaining aenergies that seek to nip your power at the bud anymore. Burn, baby, burn strong! Burn the whole Tower and find yourself on new lands~!

A L O N E🔻💜

ALL of you – Gold Alchemist (Roger Bacon)

becoming ONE and whole – Priestess of Solitude

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[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

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[spookypete-94]

Dark Horse- Breath

PriceXFem!reader

Start of a mini series. Reader is a single mother, working double shifts at a restaurant. Father of the child starts to become a problem while reader is at work and Price offers a solution. Non-con mentioned but not described. Slight age gap between reader around 25 and Price around 35.

Hard work was never something that had bothered you. Entering the work force at the ripe age of 14, you had learned many things the hard way. Like how what you thought was your "Highschool Sweetheart" was the love of your life.. Until he took advantage of you, in a time where you had too much to drink at a graduation celebration caused by him egging you on. Ultimately, the cost of his choice forcing you to become pregnant. You did not know how ever, that you were carrying his child when you broke it off with him, upset he had pulled such a stunt on you. Again, learning the hard way- you became forever tied to him, but would never settle with him.

Even for such a hardship to happen at a young age, you were blessed with the best gift. A piece of you. The entire pregnancy, you prepared yourself for the baby to come out like your ex. A reminder of what happened to you, but would care for nonetheless. But to your surprise, your baby boy came out with your color hair and orbs that matched your own. Literally the apple from your tree which quickly became the center of your eye.

Naming him Abel, meaning breath. He would be your fresh air. A man you would try to raise better for this world.

Locking the door behind you, you turned down to look at your little one. He was always so bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning, donning his school backpack.

"We got everything?"

"Yup." Abel said popping the p, reaching for your hand to hold it as you walked him to his school. He rather liked school for his age, making friends with ease. Watching as he skipped next to you, and listening to what he thought was going to happen at school today. These moments were what you loved most, feeling truly connected with Abel.

Infront of the school doors, kneeling down to speak with him face to face and fiddle with his jacket.

"Dad will pick you up today." You said smoothing his hair.

"Oh.." Abel said quietly. Abel knew how hard having split custody with his dad was for you. Your ex may be terrible to you, but he was a good father to Abel. Making getting full custody of Abel hard and the fact due to your funds coming from a restaurant. Of course the boy who took advantage of you turned into a man that became successful. Many times he would bait you ,"If you just came back to me." A smug smirk on his face almost telling you he'd knew you would come running back. Instead, you planted firmly, took root and grew. Getting a job at a local restaurant and quickly becoming it's best worker. Making enough to make ends meet, living pay check to pay check but still taking care of your son.

"It'll be alright momma, I'll see you later tonight." His arms coming around his neck and pulling you into him. Nearly teetering on falling over, but instead pulling him into you closer to lean on him. A perfect explanation of your relationship with Abel.

Watching him run into school you waited for him to slip inside, and walked to work. Hoping for a busy day to help with distraction making it go quick until you can see Abel again.

It for sure started off with a bang, like someone had fired a starter gun. Table after table, coffee turning into soda signifying the change from breakfast into lunch. Answering the phone of what you thought was going to be a to go order. was actually a phone call from your son's school. He had forgot his lunch. Thinking about how you had locked the door after asking, but then realizing his lunch box was on the counter still at home. Sighing, feeling further rushed, your boss Kate, could tell something was off and you explained what had happened.

"Well take him lunch," she said matter-of-factly like she couldn't understand why you were so stressed about it. "I got your tables for now." You were quick about it, asking your line cook for a cheeseburger and fry explaining the situation. Thankfully just pulling one he had just started for a customer and giving it you, you rushed out the front door.

Sudden surprise struck you, as you turned the corner and collided with a regular patron with your shoulder.

"Oh!" you said turning to look at the man with gentle blue eyes and brown mutton chops. "Sorry John." He would come in periodically, sometimes almost every day for 2 weeks and then would up and disappear for a month. Figuring it was military related, you always tried to be nice to him as he always left a generous tip.

"Careful love," he grumbled a name he said to you often ,"where you off to?"

"Abel forgot his lunch," you said showing him the bag, before starting to walk again.

"Silly boy," he said watching you walk away, hand resting on the door handle of the building. You grinned before sprinting off again in the direction of his school.

Finding him in the lunch room, you dropped he bag off in front of him.

"Sorry momma," he said at your winded state.

"Its fine, we just gotta clear out your lunchbox when we get home." Kissing the top of his head and quickly ruffling his hair. "Love you, see you later." Waving as you left heading back to work- this time at a stiff walking pace, too winded from running prior.

Back at the restaurant, the lunch rush starting to slow down as you approached Kate behind the counter, tying your apron back on again. "Thank you," you said whispering to her.

"It's fine," with a warm smile, her eyes peering up at you from the counter. "Your regular is still here."

Rolling your eyes, you gave her the same grin you had shown John earlier. "Not my regular. Maybe he is your regular."

"He didn't use to come every day like he does until you started."

"He doesn't come everyday."

"You know what I mean," she chirped back. "And he only ever tips you like that." Shaking your head, you started bussing tables, wiping down, and restocking preparing for the dinner rush.

In the mean time of waiting, you tried to make small talk with John.

"Want cherry pie? Fresh one was made this morning."

"Sure," he said sliding his coffee forward for a refill. Filling it, and turning to the kitchen to grab the slice of pie.

"Cherry pie?? That's your way of flirting?" Kate asked leaning against a kitchen counter, the cook giving a small snort and smile listening to your banter.

"Fuck off, I'm making you profit." causing her to cackle loudly.

Pie on the plate, you slipped through the saloon style doors and back into the dining room.

"Told a funny joke 'aye?" he asked.

Staring blankly, for a second you realized he heard Kate cackling. "Oh! That, no, just bullshitting with Kate."

The feeling of nervousness returning seeing his eyes peer up at you locking with yours before cutting into his pie, watching him poke some into his mouth on his fork. There must be a God however, because a table walking in is what broke your gridlock with him, grabbing your pad and paper. Ready to get back to work.

The entire dinner shift was a blur. John still there at the counter moving to a more private booth with 3 other men. Like he had been waiting for a meeting.

In the mode, your nervousness and anxiety left you, taking the order and trying to offer the best service you can. The mode finally being broke when 2 little arms snuck around your waist and hugged you from behind.

"Momma!" he yelled into the back of your apron. Kneeling down and turning around you hugged him around his shoulders. "Hey love bug."

"I missed you!! but..." and you could tell the next part he did not want to say.

"What's the matter..." You asked lowly and quietly.

"Dad's outside, he wants to talk to you." Your eyes leering up, seeing him outside leaning against his car, arms crossed.

"Ok, go tell Kate to give you some pie." You said ushering her to his direction. Eyes connected with Kate's speaking with a face that told her you were going outside as you untied your apron and placed it back behind the counter. She leaned to the side to see who it was you were meeting and once she did, the eye roll she gave back to you from the burning hatred she has for him.

Taking a deep breath in, closing your eyes to focus.

That's what you told yourself. Breath. Breathe. Abel, breathe for Abel. Little did you know, the booth all the way in the back, 4 pairs of eyes watching you. John's sending a glare in the direction, like he knew what was happening and the distress you were under.

The air outside humid from the impending summer that was approaching. The night sky starting to turn dark and street lights coming on. You refused to acknowledge him, instead standing in front of him with your arms crossed.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"Our son told me you forgot to send him with lunch today."

"I did- but then I ran some to him." You said defensively knowing all to well your son did not say it in a manner to throw you under the bus.

"If its that hard for you to make sure he has what he needs, you should come back so I can do that for you both."

"No. You know that's never going to happen." Tone almost feral, tired of being beat with the idea.

"Fine," he huffed out almost nonchalantly, "Then here is this." He said presenting a packet of documents rather aggressively.

Looking on the front page, you saw it was a petition from him filling for full custody. He was trying to take Abel from you.

"Are you fucking kidding me??" Your tone hot.

"Don't think I won't win it. A mother working at a restaurant as her main source of income?? Unable to make sure he has lunch at school. Who knows what else you are failing at," his tone smug like he had full custody already. "Cat in the bag, Abel will be with me. And you can either join, or be miserable. Your choice." He said leaning down over you, laughing at your slack jaw look at him.

"You can't take him from me, I'm his mother."

"I'm his father with a full time job, money saved. I will do as a please. As I always do." He said darkly, hissing into your ear referring what had happened in the past.

Realizing how close he was, the reek of his pride burning your nose and eyes caused you to shove him back from you. He laughed, finding your attempt weak, seeing he got under your skin.

The scene could be seen from inside the restaurant, thankfully it was almost empty, John's table being the last one. Abel had his back turned from it and Kate stood inside distracting him from what was going on outside. Everyone couldn't help but notice John standing up however, long strides in his gait trying to get to you quickly. The other 3 with him standing up and following.

To your ex's mercy, he got into his car, still laughing before the group got outside the doors.

John continued outside, the other 3 standing inside, lax now. Hot tears stung your eyes and you did not want to present yourself to Abel yet.

"Love," John said quietly approaching you.

Turning to look at him over your shoulder, you quickly wiped your eyes, trying to look normal not wanting to bleed on him emotionally, but it didn't work.

"Love, what happened?" he asked approaching finally seeing your state. Unable to answer him, you hand him the packet of papers. Looking down on them he could see the intent behind it.

"I can't afford a lawyer," you choked to him. An arm coming around your shoulders pulling you into him. You never realized he smelled of pine and tobacco until now.

He let you sob into him. Heavy cries you tried to smother into his chest. John took in a large breath before finally uttering, "Marry me."

"What?" you asked thinking you misheard him.

"Marry me," he repeated, firmer this time.

You looked up at him wild look in your eyes. "Marry you??" you repeated.

"I'm British military. My benefits would be your benefits. Meaning you would have a lawyer." Your eyes bounced back and forth between the glaciers above you. Uncertainty filling you... but a spark of hope igniting. Had your conundrum really been solved this easily? You would do anything for your son.

Finally finding your voice, you muttered an "Ok." to him.

Strong arms wrapped back around you, pulling you into his chest and resting his head on top of yours. The shock of everything that had just happened, all you could do was lean into it. Breathing him in. A Breath in, Breath out.

"What jus' happened?" The one with the mohawk asked, leaning over to the one in the blue hat still watching through the windows. The blue hat answered "I think Cap'n is gettin' married."

Next

Dark Horse Masterlist

Captain John Price Masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

[trappolia]

PUT ALL YOUR FAULTS TO BED (YOU CAN BE KING AGAIN)── leona kingscholar x gn!reader, 1.1k

some days, leona thinks about what the word king means to him and how it links back to you.

contrary to popular belief, he does not so easily forget the whispers of rumours behind his back; though, loathe as he is to admit, leona knows that some are less rumour and more truth, no matter how spiteful. he is a prince, after all, and not some spoiled rotten child who's had compliments fed to him on a golden spoon.

leona knows, better than anyone, that you deserve more than him.

he’s well aware of the fact that many perceive him as lazy, irritable and intimidating, and that is only saying the least. the perfect example of a student who has had to repeat a year way too many times, who is probably still in the world’s greatest magical academy because of his royal blood and noble connections.

the second prince is one way to describe him as well. second to everything his brother does is also a possible description. second to the throne, to their parents’ love, to the praise and glory befitting of a king. because leona will never be king. not as long as his brother and his blood live, because leona has always been the second option.

and so he acts like it. what else can he do? surely he cannot try to usurp his own brother; leona may be a better king than falena, but he is also intelligent enough to understand the consequences of a coup, long-term or otherwise. not to mention his nephew, who undoubtedly has the capacity to be a real pain in his ass if leona ever does away with his father.

now leona spends most of his time bored and unpleasant to be around, not so unlike the whispers that circulated the halls of afterglow savannah's royal palace when his signature spell was discovered. it is when you find him, lazing around in the light of the sun creeping into the greenhouse (one of the only times he has ever felt that he has ever felt that he could escape from the shadows), and, for one reason or another, you decide to stay.

leona hates it.

he hates the way you shine a light in his life. it’s too bright, too hot, and he can’t get rid of you no matter how hard he tries. and, at some point, he has become too scared to get rid of you. the underlying fear of losing that light, reduced to the shadow of a king and a crown prince that he once was; it kills leona. it kills him because he was supposed to be a king, grew up wanting to be the perfect one to rule over the kingdom, and kings do not have weaknesses.

but leona is not a king.

he is the brother of one, the second son of a royal family. with enough skills and intellect to survive in the battlefield that is the royal court of the afterglow savannah. he is born to a long line of kings, emperors, leaders; has learned from the stories of the great kings of the past, of which their blood courses through his veins; but he is not a king. never was, and never will be.

but then again, who is to say that he isn’t a king in another sense?

"the only kingly thing you haven’t done yet is actually opening your eyes, leona," ruggie’s damned hyena laugh echoes in his mind, the mischievous smirk on his face while his eyes stay rooted to the pathetic homemade crown on his head.

leona does not think ruggie has the right to laugh, when he doesn't even understand.

because even with his eyes closed, the second prince sees. he sees the way your breaths come and go, the warmth of the sun and the chill of the breeze on your skin, your quickening pulse and heartbeat. he sees it all without ever needing his eyes, and that is the exact reason why he doesn’t want to open them.

because if he does, he will see you, backlit against the sun and light of the greenhouse you both visit so much, and then he will want more; you by his side in the kingdom of afterglow savannah, bathing in the morning light while wrapped in royal robes, the consort's crown on your head, your rightful place on the throne beside his. you cradling his cub in your arms, sweetly whispering to the result of your love, the future ruler of the afterglow savannah. leona knows that there is none other more deserving of a consort's crown than you, and he would kill anyone who tried to take it from you.

(he would kill for you in a heartbeat. no matter what the cost.

one day, leona thinks, he will not be the only one to fear the extent of what he feels for you.)

but what murder is justified when the crime hasn’t even been committed? when you don’t have the consort's crown, because leona doesn’t even have the king’s.

(child’s play. reaching for something he will never get. leona is a master at this game, even when he loses every single time.)

silly lion, you would chide him with a smile. not for these foolish fantasies (for leona would never admit them), but for the most mundane things. being late to class, forgetting to do homework, getting detention, forgetting to go to that detention. such simple, pathetic things, and leona listens because you are his consort, and kings listen to their consorts.

(pathetic, hopeless little fantasies.)

"leona?" you call out his name, your voice the melody of his sweetest, softest, weakest dreams.

leona's eyes flutter open, lashes brushing against his cheeks as he blinks in the light.

he sees you there, bent over to peer at his sleeping expression. the way your head eclipses the sun makes it seem like you’re wearing a halo (angel’s crown), and if leona looks closely, he can see his own kisses tangled between your locks and the light.

he closes his eyes before he can meet your gaze, see your lips and everything else he’s ever wanted. he will settle for sense and touch, if not for the sake of his sanity, then for you.

"what is it now?" he snarls, feigning annoyance. he hears you laugh, and leona knows you see right through him.

just give him some more time, then he will give you a kingdom, the world, and everything else you’ve ever wanted and deserved──

──but for now, this will be all he can offer you.

© trappolia 2024

[goldenwilliamson]

Could you do one with leah x reader where reader is a new signing and she catches Leah's attention and Leah, all cocky, asks her out repeatedly, but the reader was warned about Leah's fuckgirl fame and always turns her down, but obviously ends up falling for Leah in the end, pure fluff please ;)

Pd: you write soo goooodd

bad idea right? | leah williamson

pairing: leah williamson x reader

a/n: thanks for the ask!! i had fun with this one. reader is australian obviously inspired by kyra's signing after the world cup, but with a very different vibe to KCC's annoying little sister energy hahaha. also this is an ideal world where ACL's don't exist and leah was in training at the start of this season.

summary: reader signs at arsenal and leah has her sights set on her, but reader tries her best not to let herself fall for leah.

word count: 2.9k (got a little carried away with this, but i loved it)

When you got your call up for the World Cup, you had expected that some clubs might take an interest in you, along with all the other younger Australian players who hadn’t yet gotten the chance to play in such a large tournament. What you didn’t expect however was that the club you grew up supporting would be making a deadline day signing for you. When you heard that Arsenal were interested after the World Cup, it was just the cherry on top of what was the most surreal experience of your footballing career so far. Obviously with Steph Catley and Caitlin Foord already being at the club, you had felt entirely comfortable about making the transfer. You had already been playing in the WSL for a few years, but you’d always told yourself that if Arsenal ever came knocking, you would go there without a doubt. 

Being such a fan of the club and playing against Arsenal in the past, you already had preconceptions about many of the girls. Before you had your first training, Steph and Caitlin had come over to your new flat to help you settle in and put together some furniture, and you took it as an opportunity to get all your final questions out of the way. You had already spoken to them endlessly about the culture of the club for the players, but you hadn’t spoken too much about the other girls. All that they had told you was that you would fit in well with the team, and that was good enough for you at the time. 

But now that your time for actually joining the team was getting very close, you decided you wanted to learn more about some of the girls you would be spending the majority of your time with for the foreseeable future.

‘What’s Kim like as a captain?’ You asked first, and both Steph and Caitlin sung her praises while explaining that underneath her hard front is a big softie who wants the best for everyone. 

‘I’m not going to lie, I’m nervous about not clicking with anyone,’ you said next. 

‘I can’t imagine you ever not getting along with anyone,’ Steph said, ‘You hit it off with everyone you’ve ever met.’

‘True, I reckon you and Leah will get along well but,’ Caitlin adds. 

‘Really?’ Your voice is higher when you say this, a little surprised. 

‘Oh yeah, she’s going to love you. She’s already spoken to me about how she’s excited you’ve signed,’ Steph says and you feel very flattered. Leah is a player you’ve admired for years, and a defender you’ve dreaded coming up against in games. Even though you’ve played against her, you wouldn’t expect her to have noticed you, let alone be excited about you joining the team which she cares so much about. 

‘What’s she like?’ You ask, genuinely curious. 

‘She’s somehow managed the perfect balance of being super fun and lighthearted, but also stern and serious,’ Steph says. 

‘Is she single?’ You find your mouth moving before your brain has the chance to tell you not to say that. Both Steph and Caitlin laugh at your forwardness, but they don’t seem all that surprised. 

‘Leah is undateable, she meets a lot of girls, but they never stick around for long,’ Caitlin says truthfully, and for a moment you feel a bit of disappointment.

‘Because she’s not a good person?’ You ask, unsure about why no girls would want anything with her. In your eyes she’s a catch. 

‘No,’ Steph says quickly, ‘She’s an amazing person, she just doesn’t want them to stick around for long, it’s always more of a one night thing for her.’

This surprises you, and it does make you see her a little differently. In the media she seems very mature, being the England captain and all. You can’t really imagine her going out, meeting girls, and having one night stands, but then you remember you really don’t know the girl at all.

A few days later you arrive in London Colney for your first training session of pre-season, carpooling with Caitlin and Katie. You’d already met Katie a few times now, which made your arrival feel a bit smoother. You don’t take it for granted having Steph and Caitlin around to welcome you and make sure you’re connecting with the other girls. 

Before you go into the first meeting of the season with Jonas, you get to meet all the other girls. While someone might find this overwhelming, you are unbelievably excited to finally be introducing yourself and meeting all these players you respected so much. 

Everyone greets you warmly with a hug and kind welcoming words. When you approach Leah she flashes you her fantastic smile and you can’t help but mirror her expression. You keep in mind but that she is used to being able to charm girls, and you try not to fall victim to it. 

‘Hello, mate. I’m Leah,’ she says in her relaxed voice, giving you a hug hello. 

‘Hey, good to meet you,’ you say.

‘Likewise. I’m so glad you’ve signed, you’re going to be a great addition to the team,’ she says and you thank her graciously, feeling good knowing you have a little bit of support behind you, from Leah Williamson of all people. 

From your first meeting, you can see what everyone else sees in her. She’s a beautiful girl, there’s absolutely no denying that, and she carries a confidence that radiates off of her. It’s both incredibly attractive and intimidating at the same time. You know immediately you can’t let yourself go down the rabbit hole of developing a crush on her, because you know all too well that it would consume you completely. So for the first few weeks at the club you don’t spend too much time with Leah. You don’t avoid her, because you don’t want to be rude, but you don’t let yourself go as deep as you normally would want to. Usually when you find yourself around someone attractive you’re asking questions, trying to get to know them. You decided the less you knew about Leah the better. 

You didn’t realise that Leah had noticed the way you hadn’t been giving her as much time and attention as you’d given some of the other girls, and the way that you had bruised her ego. One day Leah and Jen were peddling on the exercise bikes in the gym next to each other while you ran on the treadmill on the other side of the room. Leah watched you like a hawk as you took your long, easy strides. 

‘She’s great isn’t she?’ Jen said, following Leah’s line of vision.

‘Oh god yeah, she’s gonna be our secret weapon going into this season,’ Leah says without a beat. She’s been watching you every day, witnessing how well you’ve managed to establish yourself within the team already, earning respect from all the players. She would be very surprised if Jonas didn’t start you in the upcoming games, because you're the perfect number 9 that the club has been needing. 

‘Lovely girl too,’ Jen observes and Leah nods.

‘I haven’t gotten to know her that well, I don’t think she’s too interested in me,’ Leah says, and even though she tries to hide her contempt, Jen reads her like a book.

‘Finally someone who’s not interested in you, whatever will you do?’ The naturally sarcastic Scot makes fun of Leah’s obvious dissatisfaction with her ability to have you in the palm of her hand. 

‘Shut up,’ Leah pushes her shoulder. 

‘You’re seriously crushing on her aren’t you?’ Jen says.

‘I wouldn’t call it a crush,’ Leah scoffs. She would never admit to having a crush on someone, it’s not in her nature at all. When it comes to dating she has always preferred to be detached and aloof. 

‘What would you say then?’ Jen asks.

‘I guess you could say I’m intrigued by her,’ Leah says, immediately cringing at the way it sounds coming out of her mouth.

‘Alright stalker, don’t go following her home now or anything,’ Jen says, unable to contain her laughter seeing Leah in this new position. As Jen makes this comment you step of the treadmill and pull off your headphones and Leah quickly shushes Jen. 

‘How was the run, Y/N?’ Jen calls out to you from across the room, and you smile, striding in the direction of her and Leah as they continue to peddle. 

‘Yeah not too bad,’ you nod, ‘How are the bikes treating you guys?’ 

‘I think I zoned out watching you running over there,’ Leah says, and you don’t know whether or not to interpret it as a flirty or not.

You laugh lightly and shake your head, ‘Glad I could be of service.’ 

‘You do look proper graceful for someone doing sprints,’ Jen says.

‘Well now I know who to come to when I need a pick me up, thanks girls,’ you look at them both, your ego boosted. You had no clue how you looked running on the treadmill, but you couldn’t have imagine it was anything impressive, or graceful. You tell the girls you’ll leave them to it as you turn to walk out of the gym, thinking over Leah’s little comment for quite some time. 

A few days later you’re invited round to Beth and Viv’s place for a little dinner. It’s not a huge group there, just yourself, Steph, Caitlin, Leah, Jen, and Kim Little. Despite being one of the younger girls in the squad at 24, you’ve found yourself feeling most comfortable around the girls a little older than you like Jen and Beth. Even Viv who was notoriously introverted had made an effort to get to know you. 

The night is lovelier than you could have expected, chatting with all the girls with ease, like you’ve known them all as long as you’ve known Steph and Caitlin. At one point you decide to go into the kitchen to refill the water jug, and when you’re standing over the sink, Leah slips into the space with you. 

‘What are you after?’ You ask casually.

‘You,’ Leah says and you turn around to look at her with a confused look on your face.

She’s leaning against the kitchen bench, eyeing you confidently, but you’re determined not to let her work her ways on you. 

‘Whatever for?’ You ask innocently, turning back to watch as the water fills the bottle in your hand. 

‘Why’ve you been avoiding me?’ Leah says as you flick the tap off. To buy some time you rest the bottle on the bench and grab a tea towel, wiping off the water that spill down the sides of the bottle.

‘I didn’t realise I had been,’ you shake your head, not looking at her as you lie through your teeth. 

‘Maybe it’s in my head then,’ Leah shrugs.

‘Maybe, but I’m sorry if I haven’t been giving you enough attention,’ you say sarcastically, knowing that your words would cut deep for a girl who usually has her ways with girls. 

‘That’s alright, why don’t I just take you out for dinner, that way I’ll have you all to myself,’ Leah suggests and you scoff.

‘Sorry, as fun as this is, it’s not really me Leah. I’m not interested in being another notch on your bed post,’ you say, and while you might feel rude saying this to anyone else, you feel like you could chip away at Leah’s ego all night and she would remain confident as ever. 

Leah sighs with a smile on her face, ‘Worth a try,’ she says and you two walk back to the table, acting like nothing ever happened. Jen Beattie is the only one who catches the smirk on your face and the ever so slightly defeated look on Leah’s. 

She tries again a couple of days later after training, asking what your plans were for the night.

‘Going home,’ you say, stating the very obvious fact after a long and tiring training session. 

‘Want some company?’ Leah asks. While you would’ve said yes to company, feeling like anyone being around was what you needed to settle into your new home, you knew you couldn’t say yes to Leah.

‘Uh, not tonight, I’m going to go home and fall into bed,’ you say.

‘Tomorrow then?’ Leah offers and you shake your head at her persistence. 

‘You’re relentless,’ you say, smiling at the cocky look on Leah’s face. Slowly it’s getting the better of you. 

‘I prefer the term driven,’ she says and you laugh. 

‘Don’t let me stop you, it’s doing wonders for my confidence,’ you say.

‘Oh don’t worry, I won’t,’ Leah assures you as you part ways walking towards your cars. You ignore her once again, but of course she occupies your thoughts the whole drive home, and the rest of the night. 

There is even a moment after you eat your dinner that you consider asking her to come over, knowing exactly what would happen if she did. You groan out loud, realising that she had already won this battle. That’s why the next time she tries her luck, you fold. 

It was the perfect setting, all the Arsenal girls and the Matildas that lived around London were out at a bar celebrating Caitlin’s birthday. Leah was of course locked in on your every move, and you knew it. Every time you glanced in her direction, she was already looking at you. It was driving you crazy, making you feel all hot and bothered. As if dancing was the cure for your overwhelming feelings, you remained among the girls throwing their hair and arms around to the music. 

A classic ABBA song comes on and Leah makes her way into the people moving on the dance floor, subtly making her way towards you. It’s unsurprising when you feel her hands on your hips, you’d been waiting for it at this point. The music is loud in your ears, drowning out any remaining inhibitions. You turned to face Leah with a look of defeat, as if you were forfeiting to her. You let your arms fall around her neck as she stabilises herself with her hands on your hips. She leans in close to speak directly into your ear and you can feel her breath on the top of your neck, sending a small shiver up your spine.

‘You’ve been driving me nuts,’ she says, giggling slightly with her admission. 

You lean into her now, planting a tantalising, gentle kiss on her neck before murmuring, 'I still don’t want to be just another notch on your bed post.’

Leah pulls back and looks at you with a face that tells you that you can believe her when she shakes her head, ‘This isn’t about that, I just want to know you.’ 

‘Do you say that to all the girls?’ You ask, still harbouring some slight concerns about Leah’s notoriety when it comes to her sexual partners.

‘I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a long time,’ she says. Even though you really don’t know her all too well, you know her words are genuine, and you know that you feel the exact same way. There was no denying the chemistry between you both, and the similarity in your personalities. You remember the way Caitlin and Steph had predicted you two would get along, and you know it’s true now.

‘Me neither,’ you tell her honestly, and you can see from the grin on her face that it was exactly what she wanted to hear. 

‘How about we get out of here and go find some food,’ Leah suggests and you nod eagerly, dying to step out into the fresh air with her to speak freely without trying to talk over the music. 

‘Great idea,’ you say. With that you and Leah say your goodbyes, not feeling too guilty about leaving as it was nearing midnight already at this stage. When you step out into the night it feels like you’re back in the real world, and your feelings about Leah were still very much there. 

She takes your hand in hers and leads you up the street and the two of you walk until you find some fried food to sink your teeth into. You talk the night away and get to know Leah behind the persona she has created. This Leah is endlessly caring, a listener, a deep thinker, incredibly witty, and much more vulnerable.

That night you two end up back at your North London flat to save her the trip out to her house in St Albans. To your surprise, you don’t sleep together, but you’re pleased with that. Part of you was still waiting to see what Leah’s intentions were, and she proved that she really did just want to spend some time with you. You were happy to give her your attention now.

 ’You’re nothing like how I expected,’ you admit to her as you lay face to face in your bed, your legs stacked on top of each other. 

‘Better or worse?’ Leah asks, smirking at you in the darkness of your room.

‘Better,’ you say with a smile, leaning in to finally kiss her properly. It’s gentle, but there is clear passion behind it. You hum, satisfied as you pull away, ‘Definitely better’.

[cock-holliday]

I think Joyce Messier is one of my favorite Disco Elysium characters because ohhhhh is she painfully real. She is the absolute pinnacle of her ideology; the quintessential Nice Educated Lady and ooh does she suck so bad. Lol she’s witty, she’s intelligent—she is your absolute best source of political, historical, and possibly philosophical information about the world around you because of the access she has had for decades.

I grew up in small-town nowhere with open blunt bigotry. When I first moved to a city I thought the backwards ass sort of oppression I was used to was over. The city was full of friendly educated people. I wanted a seat at the table.

I thought someone brandishing a knife was scary, but learned the hard way that someone smiling and asking if you’re okay while stabbing you in the back is soooo much scarier. Any left-wing political theorist could have told me as much, but to me it was brand new.

Joyce is…THE ultraliberal. The coveting of status. The rare chance to stick out your neck to make connections but the immediate farm-razing evacuation when anything threatens your comfort let alone your safety. She knows the language and she makes careful calculations. Which makes betrayal much worse. Ignorance is not knowing, or refusing to know. This? It’s being placed on the sacrificial altar to the capitalist meat grinder for 10 more minutes of heat in the jacuzzi.

Joyce is a representative of utmost cruelty, and worse than indifference—the capitalization off of misfortune, and preservation of the status quo of unimaginable violence. And she knows it. And boy is she likable.

[mobbu-min]

☆ erm, let's not do that ☆

requested by anon! Hi there! So i would like to request The overblot gang with a S/O who likes to pick on their fingers whenever they are stressed and considering what Yuu have to go through, they would have a bloody hand if it werent for the fact they use gloves when they are really stressed out. (They dont wear gloves often because it will look weird when it doesnt fit the outfit but will wear it if necessary). So what are the overblot gang (seperate) reactions when he learns why his S/O pick on their fingers and wear gloves? P.s. you are an amazing writer and i love your work, keep up the good work! Hope you have a lovely day/night!

a/n so it's been awhile... how have you guys been? i've been okay, been dealing with post graduation fatigue and depression. been wondering what the hell am i doing with my world and wondering if things are really worth it. i miss bts, i miss jin and hobi and most of all yoongi. i miss the person i used to be. i miss the person that was my rock for a good few years. i wish this whole life thing wasn;t so hard, but! twst makes my brain go brrrr, so that's good i guess lolol. i'm working on stuff dw! and i'll try to post more, so thank you all so much to those who have been waiting! i love you all!!! <333

characters mentioned: overblot boys!

!tw! blood, would this be considered self harm? (an actual question btw)

Riddle Rosehearts <3

⋆ He’s so concerned. Honestly, when he saw the state of your hands, he gasped like some Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time.

⋆ He’s not the type to beat around the bush, but he’s gentle about it. He’s quick to voice his concern for your health and if there’s any way for him to help you. 

⋆ Knowing that he is part of the cause of your pain, sorta sends him spiraling somewhat. It really makes Riddle want to become a better person after seeing the after effects of his tyranny.

⋆ Whenever Riddle sees you picking at your hands, he kinda swats at your hands like an angry cat. A disappointed pout on his soft features. He really tries okay. 

⋆ Riddle will patch your hand up. He’s so gentle about it too. Holding your hands as if they were blessed by the Queen of Hearts (honestly there’s probably a rule about it)

⋆ He’s taken to holding your hand when you're together. He stutters out a quick ‘I-it’s to help you!’ before dragging you away to study. When you're alone, Riddle has the habit of kissing your hands, mumbling sweet words. 

⋆ Overall, Riddle is concerned but willing to do anything to help you.

“If you ever find the urge to harm yourself, no matter how small, I ask you to seek me out. I will always spare you a moment. Afterall, I care about you, please don’t forget that.”

Leona Kingscholar <3

⋆ He noticed the state of your hands the moment he met you, but didn’t mention it until you grew closer. Like Riddle, he doesn’t beat around the bush. But unlike Riddle, Leona is so incredibly blunt.

⋆ After you tell him it’s a habit you’ve picked up after certain events, Leona drops the subject. The both of you are too awkward to keep it going. Afterall, you both knew what events could have led you here. Guilt was quick to snag Leona’s heart.

⋆ He’s not upfront about his emotions. Leona’s quite bad with vocalizing his worries, but he’s always been a firm believer in actions over words anyways.

⋆ Expensive gloves, creams and ointments from his land, heck even fidget toys he’s seen Cheka play with, shows up at your door. Anything he believes that could help you, he’s getting.

⋆ If you’re together and your hands get particularly bad, he’s dragging you to the infirmary to patch you up (he ends up snagging/buying bandages to keep on him just in case after) He doesn’t really talk much, but the sentiment is there.

⋆ Like Riddle, Leona will hold your hands to stop you from picking at your skin. His grip is tight, but not in a way that seems like he’s scolding you or mad, but tight in a way that's comforting. As if saying ‘I’m here.’

‘Oi, stop that… Yeah, I’m aware, but I’m here now. Let’s find other ways to deal with your stress, yeah? (whispering) I think I’ve got a few ideas, if you’re up to it, herbivore~’

Azul Ashengrotto <3

⋆ He beats around the bush. Azul is weirddddd about it.

⋆ On one hand, he’s worried about you. On the other hand, his capitalist side wants to find some way to profit off it. Somehow he manages to quell both sides. (he ends up making hand cream/ointment using like floyd’s mucus thing, rip floyd)

⋆ Azul, despite his incessant need to bottle up his emotions for others, finds it hard to ignore the state of your hands, and likewise state of your health, any longer. He doesn’t know how to approach the topic. Does he ask right away? Should he ease you into it? He, for the first time since his overblot, is lost for words.

⋆ He does eventually get the guts to ask and oh boy, he never knew guilt felt this bad.

⋆ Azul kinda sucks at helping you, he won’t hold your hand (only in private) and he’s kinda frivolous with money (so no expensive gifts) but he’s good with his words. And when he sees you starting to pick at your hands, he immediately starts running his mouth. And he can talk for hours. And he’s entertaining too. Leaving you so enraptured by his words that you forget about the need to pick at your skin.

⋆ He’s always good at always keeping you busy. And no this isn’t some way to get free labor out of you. Typically you help him with paper work, just you and him in his little office.

⋆ Azul may always be boasting about how kind he is outloud, but you both know his true kindness is always quiet.

‘Ah, that’s enough paperwork for today. How about we go to the lounge for a few drinks? There’s plenty more I wish to share with you about the stock market.’

Jamil Viper <3

⋆ He doesn’t notice until you’re hissing in pain from something spicy touching your tender skin (listen i know this does make sense, but trust me, it hurts) He’s confused and worried at first and confused and worried after.

⋆ Jamil scolds you for working without some sort of protection while he tenderly washes your hands.

⋆ I feel like Jamil also has some bad coping habits, so he’s quick to put two and two together. He doesn’t ask, but there is a noticeable shift in his behavior. Jamil is a lot more gentle, not in a demeaning way, but in an awkward ‘I want to help you, but idk how, just please appreciate my efforts’ sorta way.

⋆ Since he still has his duties as Vice Housewarden and Kalim’s aid, he’s pretty tight on time, but he tries his best to spare you a few minutes. And if he can’t, you’ll always find a lunch box sitting on your desk.

⋆ Jamil is always willing to bandage your hands if they get particularly bad. He’ll use healing ointment that smells like home and is as gentle as his voice.

⋆ And while he can’t give you extraordinary gifts or talk for hours on end, Jamil is always ready to lend you a hand to heal your own destruction like how you healed him.

‘Stop squirming so much, I’ll mess up your banadages. -sigh- You really have to start wearing some sort of gloves… Mh? What was that?… You like it when I bandage your hand? E-eh- ahem, well if you like it so much, I might as well start charging you. …Ahaha, I never said thuarmarks, did I?”

Vil Schoenheit <3

⋆ He takes one look at your hand and instantly brings out a 12 step hand routine.

⋆ Listen, he doesn't care if you do it out of stress, he’s going to fix your hands while helping you find better ways to handle it.

⋆ He rubs like this gel liquid thing that tastes bad to prevent you from biting away the skin near your nail (it’s an actual thing don’t worry) He’s pulling all the stops to prevent you from injuring your hands even more than they already are.

⋆ Vil often walks the fine line of being really gentle or really strict about it. And it doesn’t stem from his perfection issues, he is just kinda bad at expressing his emotions in a way that is both productive and compassionate. He does care, you’ll just have to look for hidden meanings in his long lectures.

⋆ No doubt, Vil is getting both of you matching gloves with your signature colors as accents.

⋆ The whole 12 step hand routine actually does become routine for the both of you. Typically taking place at Pomefiore, you’ll both talk about your day. Vil sees this as a way to check off all three boxes.

⋆ He gets to do his nightly hand routine.

⋆ You're improving day by day from talking about your emotions with him.

⋆ And he gets to spend one on one time with you!

⋆ It's a win-win situation! And your hands have never been softer!

‘And Epel just had to prove his point, which ended up with him casting a Zip Tight Spell on him. Despite not even being able to move his mouth, I could tell there was so much anger running though his little body. Goodness, how ridicu-hm? Did my little spudling fall asleep? How rude~ -sigh- Sweet dreams, darling~’

Idia Shroud <3

⋆ It’s Ortho that brings up your problem. Worry evident in his voice as he showed pictures of your hands to his big brother.

⋆ Despite being gaming buddies, Idia really never paid attention to your outer appearance. Too preoccupied in his desire to beat you at every game you both play.

⋆ And poor Idia, guilt grabs him by his long ass hair and flings his lanky body across the room multiple times (not really, but in Idia’s head that what's happening)

⋆ Unlike all of the others mentioned, Idia’s way of help is rather unconventional. He’s not good at talking nor is he good at physical touch, but you know what he is good at? Yeah, making things.

⋆ After a long night, Idia shows up at Ramshackle holding a small box. What is in the box? Well your own personal health robocat! This cat is kinda like Ortho just to a lesser degree (think of the robocat seven made mc!)

⋆ Listen, he knows he’s severely lacking in multiple departments of this whole dating, heck even friend, thing, but he is trying! And RoboCat is the ultimate form of his love! It’s quite romantic really.

⋆ Is Grim happy about the new intruder? No! But your health is more important than his feelings!

⋆ Idia swears he died of pure happiness at your expression. His two favorite things together!? Eek! It’s too much!

‘A-and next time you find yourself in trouble, just c-call for Robocat and she’ll come flying!… A laser beam like Ortho? Good idea! I’ll make sure to add it in her name update!’

Malleus Draconia <3

⋆ His heart aches to see the pain you put yourself through. If it was up to him, he’d simply whisk you away to a place where no stress could muddle your beautiful mind. If he could, he would kill stress itself.

⋆ But alas, he can’t kill something that doesn’t have a physical form, how sad~ (lilia had to convince him not to go after Crowley)

⋆ Malleus is doing everything he can to help you. Just name it and he’s doing it.

⋆ Multiple gloves made of the finest materials? Got it!

⋆ Healing ointment from the farthest land made from an extinct organism? Done!

⋆ The heads of your enemies? Why didn’t you say so sooner!

⋆ He’s so silly ahahaha.

⋆ But seriously, Malleus sorta never feels stressed (he does, just thinks stress is a human emotion that only humans can feel) but he’s always willing to listen to you. Afterall, you’re always willing to lend your ears to him, it’s the bare minimum.

⋆ Advice? It’s so-so, sometimes he comes off vague but that really just because of his faeness. But he tries and is actively trying to be better, trying to be more intune with your emotions and his. (lilia has been great help, and surprisingly enough, watching silver and sebek on a more friendly level has also helped him be more in tune with emotions)

⋆ You shouldn't have to suffer in silence and he’ll make sure you never will for as long as the universe will let him.

‘You’ve been such a good companion, my dearest child of man, so please let me return the favor. Allow me to see the deepest parts of your soul, of your mind and heart. If you fear that I will cast judgment, do not. I could never judge the soul that has welcomed me with an open heart.’