#its just. very validating somehow

[viniferas]

seeing temma write such an extensive amount of text to fully cover the bases to avoid any miscommunication is so validating to see

[that-anxious-enby]

a bbc ghosts thought i had back in November i dont think i talked about on here yet: Pat and Julian both died with watches on.

my question is are the watches stopped on the exact time they died as a sort of constant reminder, or are they now ticking forever, never to stop? and is the idea of them staying frozen forever at the exact second they died more or less heartbreaking then the idea that if they keep do keep ticking then they're a constant reminder of time passing but never growing old. also depending on the watch you can feel the vibration of the ticking against your wrist, its subtle but its there.. can you imagine being stuck with that for eternity? not just the visual reminder of time passing but literally FEELING every second that passes?

[wortsandall]

jason isnt even angry at bruce for the way that he died, hes mad at bruce for everything after his death. so saying that jason's anger at bruce is misdirected anger at sheila is just wrong on so many fronts. because first of all-jason was never mad at sheila. yes she sold him out to the joker and got him and herself killed and jason knows that and tried to save her anyway. i think hes aware of where the blame falls but that again leads into the second thing wrong with saying that. jason is not mad about the circumstances of his death-hes mad at the lack of change his death caused. because if bruce had died, jason would've done whatever he could to avenge that. that's a part of jason's love language. so to have bruce basically do nothing and let joker continue to hurt others grates on jason. im not even mentioning the massive victim blaming that bruce does as well. but its the aftermath that jason has a problem with not the before.

so no, jason's anger towards bruce is NOT misdirected anger at sheila. again because jason's anger has nothing to do with the circumstances around his death but everything following it. which sheila had no part in due to y'know. also being dead.

[dukeofthomas]

"Jason just needs to see things from his family's perspective and understand how much they love him (despite them never actually communicating or showing him through their actions)" is out. "The batfamily putting a single bit of effort into understanding Jason and reconciling with him on his own terms" is in.

[prentissluvr]

tw long rant and swearing!

hey!! if you don't like something i wrote! shut the fuck up and move on!! thanks bye!! no hate is tolerated on this blog :)))

i don't care if you don't like the way i characterized someone in my story!! shut up and get a better hobby than hating on something someone has spent hours creating and pouring love into and accusing them of hating one of their favorite characters because you think that the fic they wrote FOR FUN and NOT FOR YOU is bad characterization/makes the character flawed in a way that you don't like because you have a poor understanding of what makes fanfiction fanfiction (and also humans human tbh lol). sure, they're maybe more flawed than in the actual show, but THATS THE FUCKING POINT OF FANFICTION!!! IS THAT ITS NOT A REAL PART OF THE SHOW!!! AND ITS WRITTEN!!! FOR FUNNNNN!!!!! AND NOT FUCKING FOR YOU AND YOUR FUCK ASS OPINIONS SPECIFICALLY!!!!!!!! and if you think it sucks, i don't care!! you are entitled to your opinion!!!! hate it so so so much but get the fuck over yourself if you think that telling me it's horrible and unrealistic and somehow creating a bad wrap FOR MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN THIS SHOW is somehow a meaningful usage of your time or gonna get me to delete the fic or stop liking it or stop promoting my own hard work !!!! i'm proud of the things i write and nothing will ever change that. i hope you know what a shitty shitty shitty (and embarrassing) thing it is to do to leave a whole paragraph of hate under someone's hard work just because they interpret a fictional fucking character in a way that you don't like. genuinely genuinely get the fuck over yourself and find a better way to spend your time than caring more about fictional characters than real life people.

[zhuhongs]

oh noninonononóooo

[narwhalandchill]

dhil build update time

[tw: 51.5% crit rate from substats only]

so ive had this guy for less than a week yet hes like. unironically my best built character at the moment after yesterdays relic rolls (rope+orb are new) like. go figure

literally went from having him way2fast and needing to speed tune my supports all over the place thanks to some unfortunate spd rolls on a wild wheat headpiece he needed to use regardless for the rutilant 70% crit threshold to just. the perfect minimum spd investment to hit 134+ with boots and a +6% set effect. and he got extra 20% ish cdmg on top too

& ik the imaginary set can technically be considered his BiS but i personally like wild wheat for the consistency. also like. by the point i had rolled THAT chest no way in hell was i not going to use it HDJSJFKJK

[darkforestwarriors]

having conniptions at 3am as I realize that my only fully finished and realized fanfics are a one shot warrior cats vampire AU and a long ass one piece self insert shipfic that no one other than me will ever lay eyes on (probably?)

why am I like this help

[snekdood]

theres different levels of abuser for me-

theres the ones who actually seem to try, and then theres the ones who im unsure if they're actually genuinely trying but an effort is being made, and then theres the ones who ik are pretending to've changed in any meaningful capacity while it being so fucking obvious they havent nor have they taken any steps whatsoever to do so.

[emizsc]

streamer!kozume kenma x wife!reader

notes: fluff + crack, this is 100% taken from a kenz & kydae moment i think about regularly, lowercase intended, married, brainrot, food mention, can be read as a stand alone but i have a part one and two to this series!!!

it was finally the day kenma hit his subscriber goal on twitch which was “ xx subs for cooking stream w the wife” so when time came, he made sure to clear the background for anything that might put you two’s safety at risk. he already asked you beforehand if you wanted to do this in the first place and what time you wanted to. he stated sternly that if you wanted to back out— even if it was in the middle of the stream and he was mixing ingredients for something— the second you felt uncomfortable, he’d stop the stream. his priority is always you.

you were very much a cook unlike your husband who’s somehow burnt hot chocolate before, so you decided on what to make! “szechuan beef with white rice sound good?” you say, looking up recipes. “anything you want.”

you put kenma in charge of the rice whilst prepping the meat. anytime you’d have to turn your back to the camera, kenma always lingered right behind you, draping his arm on your hip whenever he could.

once the rice was cooked, you pulled your sleeves down to cover your hands as makeshift mittens to hold the rice container. you tilted the bowl for the camera to capture. “rice looks nice and fluffy.. so ken can cook good rice at least!” you tease, laughing softly. “y/n is that not hot?” kenma says with a raised eyebrow, watching the steam coming off the top. “it’s not that hot, i can hold it.”

“A-ahh BRO! y/n that’s h-HOT-!! WE HAVE MITTENS, LET ME HOLD IT! YOUR HANDS ARE GONNA BURN!!!” “kozu, it’s fine, i’m literally holding it.” “What do you mean?! Owsssshttt.. I LITERALLT HAVE THE MITTENS ON AND I CAN STILL FEEL IT!” in the end, kenma put the rice on a heat resistant mat and he ran your hands through some cold water. the live chat was racing with comments.

steinogfineshyt: bro doesn’t understand the ‘cooking hands’

bxngchnz: did he call his wife bro????

souleaterpeak: KENMA LOOKS SO STUPID WITH MITTENS IM FRYINGGGG

kaikamalhuening: kenma valid crashout

alhaithamkisser: y/n +134340 aura, kenma -12700 aura

levimalewife: that was so sigma alpha male of y/n

mammonscreditcard: does y/n need a wife

kkumacoups: blah blah blah proper name place name backstory stuff ahh kenma bro 😭😭

shokoscigarette: y/n i love you please don’t die

“my wife is mine to love and she will never die.” kenma scoffed at the screen before turning back to you, just completely enamored, like it was his first time ever laying his eyes on you again.

notes: HELLO THANK YOUR FOR 2.1K NOTES + 100 FOLLOWES WHAT?! (ᯅ̈ )erm guys im just a girl who’s insanely brainrotted pls don’t expect so much but im soso grateful for all the support (ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ·̫ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥̀) !!!!this will probably be a pending series from here as i give up on things in three (3) seconds lawl ALSO PLS TRY SZECHUAN BEEF IF YOU HAVENT ALREADY ITS SO BOMB

[nemesyaaa]

sweet babyface // toxic!bbydaddy!rafe x reader

summary ; rafe was decided to make your little one, a kook princess. and if it means to spend a million of dollars on a diamond swarovski tiara just to see it on the head of his daughter, you can be sure he's gonna do it.

warnings ; basically fluff but i would add +18 bc of a little bit of suggestive content but not real smut. mention of breeding kink. kind of toxic relationship. a bit of stalking. financial dependence. be aware of the warnings.

author's note ; i just wanted to mention @princessbrunette for the bbydaddy!rafe verse. you can check it on her account <3

even if you tried every time to keep him away, push him away, avoid him or chase him, rafe always came back. you could be cold, distant, suspicious and even cruel, he didn't care. by the way, he was better than you at that game anyway? it wasn’t for nothing that you always lost trying to fight him. he was winning while you were just exhausting yourself out. sometimes you wonder why you let him into your life, why you thought it would be a good idea to have a baby with him when everyone on the island told you he was unstable and uncontrollable. some even laughed at your situation, saying it was like giving something to the devil and hoping he doesn't use it against you.

you couldn't say rafe was a bad father. your daughter had always been outrageously spoiled. he always gave her the biggest and greatest gifts. nothing was ever good enough for his princess. he always thought big when it came to his baby. even if you were a pogue, he wanted to raise her as a fucking kook.

and sometimes you wondered if he did all this out of pure fatherly love or out of narcissism or ego.even if you hated him so much, he absolutely needed to make sure your child was on his side. every time he was there, it was like you no longer existed. the house was full of "dad," "daddy, “ or “ papa, " and babbling and laughing. it was always his name, she never called you. and you always felt a pang in your heart every time he grabbed her in his big veiny arms, making her the happiest little girl before taking her away from you to go on some weekly trips.

even when he was not at home, it was always with the toys he gave her that she played, the dresses he gave her that she wore, the hairstyles that he validated by facetime that she asked you to make, the meals he delivered that she wanted to eat. she was truly daddy’s girl. even in her facial features.

so no matter how much you tried to ignore him, he was still there somehow . through the demands of your daughter, the hundreds of deliveries a day to your door, the objects in this house and even its walls because he was obviously the one who paid for it.

you didn't need to work. you had access to all his cards. at first you spent tons of money on unnecessary expenses hoping it would drive him crazy but the next day you saw that even more money had been added to the bank account.

but rafe cameron didn't give you access to his banking data out of pure kindness and affection alone. he was also looking for a way to control you, and stay in your life. then, with that, he could also stalk you and do inappropriate things like when you bought lingerie and he received the bill. he couldn't stop himself from sending you a message. “don't want to see me, but you dress yourself like you want me to give you a second baby ;) ”

the only rule was that you were forbidden from going to see another man and even less from inviting him to the house. he manipulated you by saying it was for your daughter's mental balance but it was purely out of jealousy. and you knew it very well. you weren't the stupid naive girl he had gaslighted in the past and who he could lie to so easily anymore.

one day, you were giving your kid the extremely expensive cupcakes rafe had bought for her breakfast, trying not to comment on the ridiculousness of the prices but especially the situation, and there was a knock at the door. when you saw through the blinder that it was him, you stepped back discreetly, swallowing hard to not clench. your heart was beating fast in your ribcage as you were trying to silence your stepfoots.

“I know you're here.” you had heard his loud firm raspy voice through the door. “baby, i can hear you breathing and backing up from here. come on, i thought we both get over the time i scared you. ”

he continued to knock on the door until your old neighbor called you claiming that a crazy madman was in front of your house and didn't want to leave.

you had been forced to open up to him which made you even angrier.

but that didn’t stop him from smiling at you, the insatiable white colgate smile. his clean and fresh mullet was long enough that hair brushed the back of his neck. he was wearing one of his perfect black suits with the sleeves rolled up to show a glimpse of his nice shirt. a Rolex was tight around his veiny wrist, and the same rings he always wore were wrapped around his fingers.

he had his ear pierced recently with your daughter. you had been against it, but she still wanted to do like her father so you had no authority over the sweet monster. but you had to admit that the jewelry suited them both so well. especially on rafe, you couldn't help but think about kissing his ear, but especially biting his earlobe while caressing the silver piercing until it's wet and rolling against your tongue. all this perhaps while thinking of having a baby again.

“I should be allowed to come here whenever I want. " he had sworn under his breath, staring at you with his evil blue eyes.

“tell me what you have to say or I’ll call the police.” you replied shortly.

"I want to see my girl. I mean, the one who likes to call me daddy. "

“It’s not funny and she doesn’t want to…”

you hadn't had time to finish speaking before your babyface's little footsteps were running on the floor to come into the hall.

“daddy! " she exclaimed before being carried off the ground to snuggle into her father's strong arms, her little frame being hidden by the size of his biceps.

“that's my little girl.” he welcomed her with a kiss on the cheek, making her chuckle.

"I missed you! please, stay !" your kid had asked with bubbly face and pleading eyes, her childish pout so irresistible to say no.

“of course, I’m staying.”

“raf…” you started but he ignored you, walking in the house without your permission into the living room.

“I have something for you, peaches. ”

he took a present out of his bag and you rolled your eyes. you already knew it was going to be something crazy like the giant dollhouse he built in her bedroom, or the huge dinette in the playroom, or a scary tall comfort teddy bear that she couldn't even carry in her tiny hands. sometimes you wondered what he could offer to her because she already had everything. he had literally built her a heaven.

your daughter's eyes widened in surprise, while a smile floated across her lips in excitement. she opened the gift and took out a silver tiara set with diamonds and stunning crystals signed by Swarovski.

“she’s a baby, rafe…” you commented.

"no, she's a princess. " he corrected you and fixed your little one's hair before putting the tiara on her head, and placing a smack on her forehead. “ don't you see that kook babyface ? ”

she giggled before wrapping her hands around his neck to thank him.

“we need to talk.” you said.

"later. i have a princess to honor for now."

you wanted to fight back and kill him but you couldn't resist your daughter's face. she was happy to be with her father. and you knew it was important for girls to establish a strong bond with their father. and there was this bright spark that shone in her eyes every time she saw him that made you melt.

so you let him stay at home. he stayed with her all day. she managed to make him do whatever she wanted, and that's how he found himself playing with dolls, watching the princess and the frog, doing karaoke to barbie songs, serving as a client for a makeup session, and judging all of her princess dresses while she was making him a haul.

No matter how angry you were that he showed up like that and decided to stay, you couldn't deny the fact that he was damn good, that in the moment, you couldn't find any reason not to like him, even when he caught you spying on them and sent you a smirk to remember that you had no control.

you had decided to do some cleaning, to leave them both for a bit until the end of the day. after a long moment, rafe decided to leave her alone for a bit.

you were downstairs, and you were making food. he raised an eyebrow when he saw you. “don’t forget me.”

“no I’m sorry, I’m cooking for two and you’re not included in it.”

“I was included in this pussy to make you a baby so you can include me in this meal for one night, baby. ‘s nothing. ” he shouted back, chewing some gum arrogantly.

“don’t be trashy.”

"you used to like this..." he carefully said, because he knew he was treading on sensitive ground.

he stood in front of you, picking a taste of the ranch sauce from the bowl before putting it in his mouth. you watched him do it, glaring at the smile on his so fucking evil lickable lips.

“ taste's good. ”

“I want you to leave. “

"We should ask every part of your body if they're okay with this. Maybe it would put you back into your place to feel betrayed by your own self. "

“You’re not good for her.” you confessed.

“I am her father. And from what i know, she's very happy with me. You're the one to have a problem with my presence here. ”

"Please, leave the house. I don't want to call the police."

“exactly, baby.” he moved to stand behind you, rearranging a strand of your hair, his breath hot on the back of your neck. “you don’t want to do it. And you're not forced to do it…” he caressed your hand, slowly putting the knife away from your fingers.

“Step back.”

"I want to stay here tonight. Just this night. She really wants me to stay and would it be cruel to make her sad? You don't want to be the villain, right ? "

“don’t try to manipulate me.”

" mmh, just telling the truth and it makes you mad. you can hate me if you want but she needs me. i'm her dad and you know if I wanted to, I could make her come with me but I love seeing you together. you're a great mom.”

"you will sleep on the couch. and that is non-negotiable. you don't try anything with me, is that okay?"

“Come on, we can sleep together. We are mature and consenting adults.” he replied. "There's nothing I haven't seen before, baby. I know all that lingerie as well as that body hidden behind it."

“about that, stop stalking my bills.”

"Mine , baby. you mean, my bills. these are my cards that you use for your pleasures so I have the right to have an eye on them. even more so when I receive bills for sex toys. you should call me instead of handling it? yourself.”

"After trying them, I'm not sure that you're big enough now. “

jesus, you knew how to provoke him and it worked. he had sniffed the air loudly, trying to contain himself because honestly, he only wanted one thing at the moment, a strong urge that was to fuck you dirty on that counter until he was sure to see your hole tearing to death and dripping to get his cock in. jesus, yeah, he would give anything to see you grimace because it will never fit in but prove you wrong by giving you a second baby.

his jaw was tense and his nostrils were flared. he was forced to clench his fist to avoid touching you. " the day when your babygirl will want a little sister or brother, you better be begging on all fours on my fucking doorstep to convince me to give you another baby. so better to start now and stretch that hole very hard before it's happening because i'm gonna make sure to be breeding you enough to change your whole dna. ”

“ aren't you tired of thr…”

“mom, dad, what are you talking about?” the little girl burst into the kitchen, still with her tiara on her head. a smile appeared when she saw that her dad was still there. because it was rare for him to stay that late.

you warned rafe with your eyes, slashing violently at pieces of vegetables with the knife back in your hand.

“ we were thinking that i could stay tonight. what's your thoughts on this, little one ? want daddy to stay ? ”

“ yes ! i don't want you to leave. stay foreveeeer with me. ”

“ but you know, he can't. he's a businessman. ” you replied.

“ what do you mean, baby ? my only business is right here. ”

” Rafe. ” you said.

“ Baby ? ” he replied with a cocky smile. “ Why don't you tell us what you're cooking ? Seems delicious. Maybe we could get a taste. ”

“ Sweetie, can you go to your room for a second ? I need to talk with your dad. It's not gonna be long. ”

She pouted but agreed after Rafe promised her something if she was listening to her mom.

“you know you can’t stay. "

"All I know is that there is my name in the papers of this house, on your bills, and even on your documents. If I can't stay, you can't escape. So what's better ? ”

[adore-laur]

in one of your pieces it’s briefly mentioned that the first time they had sex after she gives birth it was really uncomfortable and not good and i was wondering if you’d ever write that ? i love the idea of sex not always being perfect especially after going weeks without it

PERFECTLY IMPERFECT

——

There was a sexual suggestiveness about the toothpick poking from Harry's mouth, and its effect on you could only be attributed to your severe case of sleep deprivation. It was a stupid piece of wood, and yet how it was framed between his plush lips sent prickles of heat surging down your neck and spine. On second thought, perhaps it was the apron tied around his waist as he dipped ripe strawberries in melted chocolate for a Valentine's Day dessert—his long fingers working with skillful precision, the sleeves of his tight long-sleeve shirt rolled up, the romantic gesture of it all. No, maybe it was the baby sling wrapped around his shoulder that held your four-month-old daughter, who was watching his every move. God, and the way he was murmuring to her each step of what he was doing definitely contributed to your rising libido. It was a sight you were still getting used to. More remarkably, it validated your years-long yearning to have children with him.

If humble swagger existed, it came in the form of how Harry carried himself as a father. The casual way he interacted with your baby was as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Walking around the house with her on his hip, going about his daily routine. Always willing to step in to give you a moment to relax. He was dependable, and you cursed your hormones for reacting so rabidly to it.

Maybe the changes your mind and body had gone through were catching up. After months, you finally felt healed from the physical wounds of giving birth. No more stitches or soreness down below. No more bleeding.

Your desire for sex was... almost normal again. You were being a bit sheepish about initiating anything, so you sincerely hoped the hunger in your eyes was communicating to Harry what you couldn't say verbally. The problem, however, was that Harry was too enamored with your little girl to notice your longing gaze. She was the center of his universe now, and you couldn't blame him for orbiting her radiance. She brought a certain euphoria to each day.

You rested your chin on the back of the couch where you observed them and inhaled the sweet scent of chocolate. It was quiet moments like these, where baby cries paused, that warmed your soul. You took time to appreciate the beauty of home, with its familiar waves and friendly birds. The creak of the floorboards and the color of the walls. The rumble of your husband's voice and his gentle presence. And most lovely of all, the adorable coos coming from the life you created.

Your eyes shifted over to the kitchen table, where a tall glass vase with flowers sat. You had woken up this morning to Harry helping your daughter hold a pretty bouquet of peonies to present to you. It came with a note that read, You make our hearts bloom. We love you.

Life was chaotic lately, yet so very blissful.

Harry was humming now as he threw the toothpick away and set the dipped strawberries in the fridge to harden. The plump red flesh encased in delectable chocolate made your mouth water. Such a simple recipe, yet somehow Harry made them taste better than a gourmet baker ever could.

He shut the fridge and moved to the sink to wash his hands. He must have sensed your gaze because he looked over his shoulder and smiled. Just the sight of him in this new role caused a swell of emotion to crash against your chest and crack your heart open.

"I've got an audience," he remarked.

You just stared at his hands supporting your daughter's small body—beautiful, sculpted, and what you had been missing desperately on your skin. It was embarrassing to admit that ever since giving birth, the closest you and Harry had gotten to any sexual intimacy was dry humping. Even then, your stitches had still been healing, so the experience was never quite satisfactory. It was no surprise that you were growing impatient.

"What?" Harry asked, noticing your strange silence.

"Nothing," you murmured, feigning nonchalance.

He chuckled and walked over to you. "You're blushing."

Your palms flew to your cheeks. "I am?"

"Big time. Are you feeling okay?"

"I... yes, I'm just"—you fanned your overheated face—"feeling a lot of things right now."

His brows scrunched together. Men were so lucky not to experience the rollercoaster of female hormones. You would sound asinine if you attempted to explain why your body was responding to him doing nothing but being a good father.

"I'm stressing you out," Harry stated as a guess.

"No, not at all."

"You're having a hot flash," he guessed again.

Groaning, you dropped your head face-first onto the couch and mumbled, "I need sex."

"Say it again, please?"

You lifted your head and avoided contact as you repeated, "I need sex. I'm healed, and I want to take advantage of this urge before it goes away." Because it would. Your hormones were still regularizing post-birth, so you weren't going to count on getting your libido back to complete normalcy. Instead, you would pounce on the open opportunities.

Harry contemplated your confession for a while, making no show of judgment. "Any blood?" he asked.

"Nope."

"And the stitches?"

"They're dissolved. Can't even tell I pushed a nearly ten-pound baby out."

He smiled, albeit cautiously. "But how do you feel?"

"I'm fine, Harry," you assured. "If you're not feeling it, we don't have to do anything. Just, you know, giving you the green light."

A shadow of sincerity passed over his face. "Who said I'm not feeling it?" You shrugged, and he gently grabbed your chin to raise it. "Look at me." His green eyes held your gaze steadily. "You wanna try?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "I miss you."

"You have me," he said resolutely. "All of me, tonight."

"Oh," you said, not expecting him to jump on board so eagerly.

"Let's shoot for eight o'clock. When the little one goes to bed."

You broke out into a giggle. "So... a sex appointment."

Now it was his turn to blush. "I heard scheduling sex is supposed to help new parents reconnect."

A rush of heat spread to the tips of your fingers. You thought of the multiple instances when you and Harry consolidated spontaneity and sex. It often sprung upon you without warning, like a carnal beast clawing at your skin. And it always involved mutual desire, like a burning ball of tension the size of the sun. The house was memory-stained with reminders of all the ways your body had been worshiped. Over by the kitchen island, Harry had held you captive with his hips pressed flush against yours. The bay window in the living room had sometimes been blemished with handprints. But the bed in which you sleep and wake up to him every morning was where long, intense sessions happened. Harry slowly sliding into you during weekend sleep-ins, providing a warmth and fullness so heavenly. Late-night quickies after being away from each other all day, a little messy yet perfect all the same. Hell, you had even done it in the ocean under the moon. You wanted nothing more than to find that natural groove again.

"Okay." You reached out to squeeze his bicep. "I believe you."

"All right," he replied in the deep, sensual tone he reserved for intimate conversations like these. You looked downward, feeling giddy. Within milliseconds, Harry planted a hot, heavy kiss on your lips before walking away.

With the way your heart fluttered, one would think you had just met him. But you knew his body exclusively, as he knew yours, and tonight would be a test.

——

You stood in the doorway of your closet, sifting through the three pairs of lingerie you owned. They were lacy little one-pieces in off-white, powder blue, and red. It was doubtful they would fit like they used to, but you craved wearing something other than baggy sweats and Harry's shirts. While it gave you pride that you grew life, an insecurity still planted its pesky seed inside. You hadn't looked at your bare body in the mirror since, honestly, you didn't have a clue. It would never look the same again, especially considering you didn't plan to only have one child.

There was a nervous tremor in your hands as you took the red lingerie off its hanger—a slimming color to hide the loose, extra skin that still remained postpartum. You thought about Harry and how he liked to strip away every last piece of fabric blocking him from his touch. Even before pregnancy, during sex, you had never felt the need to accentuate your physicality with frilly, feminine garments. Harry took you in just about anything. Unfortunately, as new parents, there was simply not enough time or energy to initiate anything more than mediocre makeouts. You felt foolish for even bringing up the prospect of sex earlier. Now there was an expectation, and you couldn't guarantee you wouldn't chicken out.

Why were you so jittery? He was your husband, for crying out loud. There was no one you felt more comfortable around.

With a huff, you started undressing yourself just as the sound of the blow dryer stopped. Harry would be ready any minute for this supposed sex appointment. Meanwhile, you were out of practice, self-conscious, and hopelessly horny—he was going to regret agreeing to this.

You tugged the lingerie on, feeling it cinch your torso and breasts. It was tight, the flimsy fabric holding on for dear life. The V-shaped cut revealed the stretch marks lining your hips. The lace was itchy and dug into your skin suffocatingly. Fuck, this was quickly turning into a self-enforced humiliation ritual.

The bathroom door slid open, and Harry emerged in just a pair of white boxers, his hair dry and fluffy. The leftover shower steam made his skin glow, as did the dim lighting. He was effortlessly handsome, while you stood there in too-tight lingerie wondering if you looked desirable enough to stimulate his sex drive. From your perspective, all signs pointed to not likely.

Harry slowly walked toward you, his eyes exploring every inch of your body, and you leaned against the wall while fidgeting with the lingerie's shoulder straps. In the silence of his appraisal, you awkwardly shuffled your feet—it was futile to fake confidence right now.

"My forever Valentine," Harry said quietly, immediately attaching his hands to your waist.

You practically whined, then muttered, "I look ridiculous."

"You're joking, right?" He bent his knees to be eye level with you, a near-crazed look on his face. "Right?"

"It barely fits, Harry."

A slow smirk stretched his lips. "That better not be the only time you say that tonight."

You glared at him for his crude joke and said, "This is silly."

"What is?"

"This whole... rendezvous."

"I think it's fun," Harry said with a carefree shrug.

"But it's different from other times," you admitted.

"How so?" He kissed your neck, his affection warm and a welcome distraction to your disoriented thoughts. He smelled ravishing, the subtle hints of his spice and black vanilla shower cleanser putting you under a spell. A pulse of appetency made you press against him.

"My body," you said.

His hands traveled to your backside, squeezing the flesh there. "This body? The one I'd get down on my knees for?"

In one fell swoop, all your internal heat returned with a rush. "It's kind of a mess," you replied. "I haven't shaved. And my stomach looks like a wrinkly prune, so there's that."

Harry traced his thumb under the lacy hem hugging your hips. "Doesn't bother me. Prunes are delicious."

Deep down, you knew he wouldn't care. He had loved every part of you through pregnancy, with all its mind-bending changes and symptoms. If he had found you sexy then, he would appreciate your appearance now. Though it would take time for you to truly believe it.

"I just want this to be good," you murmured, resting your forehead on his firm chest.

"Hey." He lifted your head and cradled it. "We'll find a way to make this work. Let's take it slow." You nodded, and he leaned closer to whisper, "I know how to get you wet. Don't think I've forgotten."

Truthfully, you were already wet, but you didn't say anything as Harry grabbed your hand and squeezed it before guiding you to the bed. While he had been taking a shower, you had fluffed the pillows and straightened the sheets. You had even sat there and mentally filtered through what positions would be most reasonable. Sex was to be careful tonight. No need for anything crazy.

You climbed into bed, and Harry remained standing. The outline of his hardened cock pushed against his boxers. A flame ignited low in your belly—to get to have him inside you after so long was exhilarating.

When he didn't move to join you, you asked, "What are you doing?"

"Following your lead," he said. "Where do you want me?"

"Um... on your side, I guess. Next to me."

Harry didn't waste any time and got into position, his hand propping his head up. There was an expectant openness in his eyes, and you almost laughed. This was out of the ordinary, but it somehow eased your nerves.

"I want to face each other," you added. "And I... I want you to do that thing where you hold my leg up against your hip."

He hummed, his eyes flashing with something lustful. "Understood. But you're going to have to take your lingerie off."

"Right." You swallowed nervously. "I'll do that."

You stripped while Harry removed his boxers and rolled on a condom. He watched your breasts bounce free, watched the lace slide down your torso and legs. It was your armor against the reality that your body wasn't the same as the one Harry had touched for the first time. But you trusted him and his admiration for the life you brought into the world. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

You lie bare beside Harry now. His gaze turned fond, taking in all of you—no judgment, no confusion, no surprise. But why would there be? He'd been there when your pants stopped fitting during pregnancy. When you hadn't been able to shave anything below your bump. When you had needed help getting off the couch. Christ, he had seen you give birth. It didn't get much more intimate than that.

"Come here," Harry said softly. You scooted down to lie on the mattress facing him. "You're beautiful. This version of your body isn't something to dwell on. Every stretch mark, every wrinkle, every curve is a testament to your amazing ability to grow life."

You were speechless, so you just sprung forward and kissed him

"Ready?" He smiled against your mouth, and you returned it.

"Ready."

"I'm going to go slow. Tell me if it hurts." Harry grabbed his cock, holding the tip against your entrance. Without you needing to remind him, he bent your leg to rest against his hip, opening you further. He slid himself in, only an inch or two, keeping his eyes locked on yours. It was slow, like he promised, but there was a slight burning sensation. You inhaled sharply and gripped his wrist.

"Too fast?"

You moaned, half in pleasure and half in discomfort. "No, it just... feels rough. Even with the condom on."

"Okay. I won't go further."

"Maybe go deeper and it'll stop."

"No," Harry said, pulling out. "I'm not about to risk making you bleed or delaying your healing. Absolutely not."

"But—”

"But nothing. Your body's obviously not ready yet, and that's okay."

"I'm sorry," you whispered sadly.

"Don't be," he said, stroking your hair. "You thought you were healed, but it's hard to know for sure without actually having sex."

You let out a disappointed sigh. "Well, this was a bust. Back to dry humping for the foreseeable future."

"I'm not complaining." Harry rolled onto his back, then yanked the sheets over his boner. 

"You're serious?"

He patted his lap. "Hop on, baby."

Laughing, you straddled him for yet another clumsy experience. But with his determination to make it enjoyable, it would be perfectly imperfect.

——

[transmisogyny-explained]

I want to submit a perspective on "afab transfemininity" from. an afab multi gender person. I know my experience isn't representative of everyone who calls themselves this, but I wanted to at least share

I don't call myself a trans woman, I hesitate to call myself transfem. nonetheless, I feel connected to femininity in a distinctly transgender way. when I first came out, I hated being a girl. I was a transmedicalist and validated myself by invalidating others. I had to face a lot of internalized misogyny and transphobia in order to really learn what it meant to be a man. after I started testosterone about 3 yrs ago, I realized I was a lesbian, and started feeling more comfortable being, at least in part, a woman. it was different this time because it was something I liked, something new and my own, not something ascribed to me. it's not cisgender in any way, it is transfemininity

this being said, I know my experience toward transfemininity is extremely different from the norm. I am not what most people are referring to when they refer to transfems, and there are many definitions of transfem that do not include me. despite that, I do have some experiences that overlap, things I can relate to. my femininity is at its core transgender in nature. my gender now is more complex... I feel like both a man and a woman, neither and both. but that doesn't mean my feelings about my gender are predatory or invalid. I don't want to talk over transfems, I am very aware of my place in these conversations. but I still have a place, and it frustrates me to see you share posts that minimize my experience into a stereotype

Why do you view transfemininity as being, at its core, the experience of being “both a man and a woman” lmao

Get back to me when you start viewing trans women as actual women and transfemininity as actual femininity, and not an aesthetic or a vibe or “some other third thing” apart from femininity.

You “feel femininity in a distinctly transgender way?” Congrats! You’re nonbinary! But that is NOT what being a trans woman is — Their womanhood and femininity is not essentially different from cis women’s.

What you are describing is a very generic experience of being a feminine nonbinary person, and I don't say that to insult you; but to compare that experience to those of trans women’s betrays the fact that you don't view them as the same gender as cis women. Which is transmisogyny. It’s textbook third-gendering.

Call yourself a nonbinary woman- Call yourself whatever you want, in fact. But trans women and TMA people are never going to feel safe around you so long as you continue insisting that transfemininity is essentially the same as the nonbinary femininity you experience, and essentially different from “real” cis women’s femininity.

Also, can I just say that it’s a little condescending that you would end your ask by saying “I’m aware of my place in these conversations, but…”

Like, if you were really “aware of your place” and were actually listening to transfems when we talk about transfeminism, you would be able to recognize the enormous amount of transmisogyny baked into your message. On top of the third-gendering, you also managed to:

Imply that TMA people don’t understand the complexities of gender and nonbinarity like you, a TME person, do

Imply that TMA people creating the language and spaces to discuss our experiences in a way that excludes you, a TME person, is invalidating and somehow tantamount to labeling you as “predatory” (what does that even mean?)

Sent an unprompted ask to a transfem’s blog venting your frustrations with the language of transfeminism, despite the fact that I’m not even the one who made those posts?

Showed a pretty absurd amount of entitlement by insinuating that it’s somehow my problem that you feel frustration over misunderstanding the basics of transfeminist theory

Subtly demanded that I do the emotional labor of managing your frustration, which, frankly, is just classic misogyny

Displayed a complete lack of understanding towards what transmisogyny even is, nor why we, as the direct targets of transmisogyny, need the the language and spaces to discuss it

I really don’t care what transfem “experiences” you think you relate to, the fact that you perpetuate and can benefit from transmisogyny will always separate you from us, and if you actually gave a shit about us and our struggles, you would recognize that and try to be a better ally to us rather than co-opting and redefining our language in a shallow attempt to define us out of existence.

As has been said countless times now:

“Transfeminine” does not mean “trans + feminine,” it is a term coined by TMA people to describe our specific experiences with being denied our femininity. That is something which you, as a person for whom (as you said) womanhood/femininity was ascribed by the system of patriarchy, cannot understand in the way we do.

[alexiroflife]

"phobia"

i literally can't stop writing for this mf, flufffff :(

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: you are an incredibly talented sorcerer, but your deadly fear of spiders tends to interfere with your daily life every now and then. it doesn't help when you happen to encounter a curse that looks just like one

to sum it up: satoru is always there for you to kill a spider when you need him to

WC: 2,764

Warning(s): arachnophobia, icky spiders

The burden of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was taxing beyond comprehension, which of course was why it paid so well.

Sorcerers were expected to give their lives each day within the battlefield, watching as their comrades and the people they were expected to protect die left and right at the hands of the morbid amalgamations of human beings’ worst possible fears, anxieties, doubts, and other nasty negative emotions.

To be a sorcerer was to sacrifice oneself, to accept death before it inevitably took its toll on those around you, and then eventually, on you yourself. This was why sorcerers were expected and trained to be strong, fierce, and with perhaps a few screws loose in their heads to allow them to plow full force into danger with no fears and no regrets. 

Sorcerers were meant to be fearless.

And in many ways, you truly were. You were a first grade sorcerer, more than capable of handling yourself in the face of adversity. You were proficient, quick on your feet, merciless when you had to be, and above all, you were confident in your abilities, which was just as important of a trait to have as a sorcerer as courageousness. 

You were a proud woman, content that you could put your skills to good use by aiding those who were weak and helpless, by saving as many lives as you could alongside your colleagues at Jujutsu Tech. 

You were a damn good sorcerer too, only, there remained a small matter that often seemed to creep up on you at the worst of times. Something you had tried desperately to overcome through years of training, therapy, private meetings with Yaga, and more. Something that had been clinging to you since the very moment you were born, and something you were still somehow unable to completely escape well into your twenty-sixth year of life. 

And that was your deathly fear of spiders.

You admitted that it was silly, that to have made it this far within the world of sorcery after having encountered more horrors than most people could imagine, a little fear of spiders was completely absurd. You knew it didn’t make any sense, that this fear of yours was beneath you, but that didn’t stop you from shrieking horribly and seeking shelter each time you saw a spider crawling along the wall of your apartment. 

You knew that you should have had more patience with yourself, for there was no way of conquering a fear if you refused to acknowledge it as valid, but come on. You were a grade 1 sorcerer for god’s sake, a professor at Jujutsu High teaching students to cast their fears aside to focus their emotions and energies into properly honing in on their techniques, yet you still couldn’t get over being squeamish any time you saw those little demons hurdling their way over the earth. 

In your mind, they were far worse than curses, a source of terror that must have been executed. 

Nevertheless, you kept your fears to yourself for the sake of your occupation and reputation. The only person who knew anything about this vulnerability of yours was your boyfriend, Satoru, and even he found it funny at times to tease you about such a small thing in a world plagued by monsters and curse-users. He had seen you slice open a curse all the way down the middle of its body with a blank face, blood spattering in all directions, but spiders were what got you. 

While he poked fun, he still harbored an understanding that beneath the hardened exterior sorcerers were forced to put up, you were all born of flesh and blood just as any other living being on this planet. 

Satoru was quick to rush to your apartment whenever you called him screaming, standing atop your bed and jumping up and down on your cushions in fear upon catching sight of one of those nasty things. He would throw your door open, catch you in your rather comical position, and hold back a fit of laughter upon seeing you.

“SATORU, SHUT UP AND JUST KILL IT! PLEASE!”

“Calm down, pretty, it’s not gonna hurt you,” he would say, a sickening smirk gracing his gorgeous features. “You’ve faced much worse things than this.”

“I don’t care!” you’d sob. “Just kill it please!”

And once he was finished picking on you, he’d hurry to your aid, approaching the bug in the corner and flicking his finger, rendering the creature dead. 

Then afterwards, he’d always hold out his arms for you to jump down into them once you determined it was safe, cooing into your ear as you threw your arms and legs around him, his hand holding your head. 

“You were so brave, baby. Good job, you got through it.”

It was humbling, to say the least, for the strongest to witness you in such a weak state, but despite Satoru’s teasing, he still took you very seriously. He didn’t diminish your strengths or your worths because of a simple fear. Hell, he had fears that he had buried deep within his gut that only you could drag out of him, and that was okay. Satoru poked fun, but he never judged his precious girl for feeling. 

After all, he enjoyed the fact that you were comfortable enough to let him see you in such a light after long days of having to be strong, just like him. He liked that he could help you with this one thing, even if it meant teleporting into your room at two in the morning on a work day. As long as he was taking care of you, he didn’t care less what you needed. When you needed him, he would be at your aid within a heartbeat. 

And in this moment, you really, really did need him.

Yaga had sent you on a quick solo mission to eradicate a few low grade curses at a nearby summer camp facility while most of the other sorcerers were busy with training or on leave for other missions. It was a quick and easy task for you, granted that your grade was much higher than those of the curses you would be exorcizing.

Only, what Yaga failed to inform you, and likely did not know or care about, was that one of these particular curses was unlike the rest. While you easily winded through the three other creatures, the very last one at the end of the corridor caught you by surprise. 

Your face was hardened as you whipped your head around, sensing the presence of the last curse within the space. Once your eyes landed on the source of the cursed energy, however, your face dropped and your eyes shrank in terror.

There before you cowered a three foot tall dark purple curse which took an arachnoid shape, with an array of beady red eyes atop its head and eight hair legs digging into the wood of the floorboards. Your heart dropped and your mouth ran dry, your body freezing in its tracks. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t do anything. Of all the first grade curses you had come across in your lifetime, this grade 3 creature would be the very first thing that stood between you and seeing the light of day.

The curse hissed, chattering its chelicerae-like mouth as its legs tapped restlessly against the floor, sending a horrid shiver up your spine. You were stronger than this, braver than this, you knew you were, but your legs had gone to jelly and your heart was pounding in your ears. Perhaps if you had been given a warning ahead of time. you would have been able to approach this threat differently, but instead, much to your shame, you took off in the opposite direction once your legs willed you to move. 

You could hear it crawling after you down the hall, screeching out nonsensical sounds as it rounded the corner to follow you. You were quick to duck into the first room you saw, slamming the door shut behind you and pressing your back against the surface. You searched the room in a panic, which you discovered to be a dorm, and ran to take cover in a closet in the corner.

You trembled, sinking down to the bottom of the platform as heavy, panicked breaths wracked your body. This was pathetic. This was humiliating. You were better than this, but god, this fear, those damned spiders would always get the best of you, despite how hard you tried to help it. 

You were trembling, squeezing your eyes shut as whimpers spilled from your quivering lips. That thing was so big, bigger than any spider you had encountered, and while you understood it was a curse, it looked far too real. 

You didn’t know what to do. You had to finish this mission, and the principal wouldn’t accept a sorry excuse about you being too afraid to exorcize a curse because it looked like a spider for an answer as to why you would come running back to the school. It sounded ridiculous! Especially for someone with your skill. 

You could hear the creature running up and down the halls erratically, its gross legs clicking against the walls. You pressed your lips together tightly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You wanted this to stop.

Hesitantly, you reached into the pocket of your uniform to shakily pull out your phone. You breathed out heavily, on the verge of a panic attack, trembling fingers dialing your boyfriend’s number with his. You lifted the phone to your ear and listened to it ring.

Then it clicked.

“Hello? Baby?” Satoru’s comforting voice spoke into the phone, a sigh of relief escaping you. “What’s up? You done with that little mission yet?”

“S-Satoru?” you whispered, voice trembling harshly. Immediately, the sorcerer on the other line knew something was off.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” his tone dropped with urgency. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You pursed your lips again, muffling a pathetic sob that was prepared to break past your mouth. You scrunched your eyes closed, the confined space doing very little to ease your nerves. Satoru could only hear the choked whines that left you, and he was on his feet, captured with instant worry. 

“Baby, talk to me. I need to know you’re okay. Tell me what happened. Where are you?”

“T-The…” you stammered, struggling to get it out.

“Deep breaths, pretty. Breathe.”

You gulped, knocking your head back against the wood, taking a moment to release a few sharp breaths. “The camp,” you managed to whimper. 

“You’re still there?” he asked, almost incredulously. “Did something happen? Were the curses higher grades than you were told? I’m on my way right now.”

“No, i-it’s,” you shook, pressing your phone to your forehead. “It’s- a s-spider…”

There was a pause as Satoru processed what you were saying. “A spider?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“The last curse,” you exhaled. “It’s a spider, Toru, it looks like a damn big ass spider,” you rambled. “I’m so scared, I'm sorry, please come help me.”

“Oh, baby,” he sighed. “I’m coming, don’t worry. Stay where you are, I’ll find you.”

You nodded rapidly, scrunching your face as tears pricked your eyes. “M-kay.”

You tucked your phone away and within exactly two seconds, you heard a whooshing sound from outside, followed by the screech of the curse. You heard its legs clatter along the walls once more before another tormented, animalistic cry, and then there was nothing. 

You waited silently, hugging your knees to your chest as footsteps ascended. “(Y/n)?!” you heard Satoru’s voice through the walls, and your shoulders slumped with alleviation. You heard the door to the room open and you slowly reached up to the closet door handle, creaking it open to peer outside.

There, you saw your boyfriend standing in the doorway, gaze finally landing on you beneath his blindfold. The moment he saw you, he dropped his arms, pained by the sight of you curled up in hiding out of fear. “(Y/n),” his gentle voice breathed out as he stepped further into the room, extending his arms in that same manner he always did when comforting you.

The second you saw the motion, you were breaking. The reality of your weakness came crashing down on you, and your lips wobbled as you climbed out of the closet and fell into his warm embrace. You shook against him, embarrassed, petrified. You were the partner of the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, and this was what you were. Powerless at the will of a low grade curse.

“It’s alright, baby, I’m here. Please don’t cry, pretty. It’s okay, I got you,” he murmured against your temple, pressing his soft lips to it then to the crown of your head as you buried your face in his chest. 

“Satoru,” you sniffled into him, clinging to the fabric of his black suit as he wrapped you into his warmth.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” 

“I-Is it gone?”

“Yeah, baby. I got rid of it. It’s all gone, don’t worry,” he whispered. He hated seeing you like this. Normally when you faced spiders, the interaction was far more lighthearted. You would screech, sure, but you had always recovered fairly quickly after he had killed one. Granted, you had never encountered a spider as big as the one that you just saw, but Satoru was aching upon  witnessing how rattled you were by this thing. “You got the rest of them, baby. You did so good, you know that? My strong girl.”

He was so loving with his praise as he eased you down from your high, rubbing your hair and pressing his palm to your waist, letting you know that you were safe with him. 

“M’sorry,” you mumbled into him and he looked down, pulling away slightly to hear you better and to get a look at your face. He tilted your chin up so that you could look at him, your eyes glossy and your brows pinched.

“What are you sorry for, pretty?” he asked you genuinely, heart clenching as he smoothed his thumb over your flushed cheek. 

“Cause,” you sniffed again. “I should’ve been able to handle this. It’s so stupid. I dragged you here to get rid of something so small.”

“Hey,” he said with firm tenderness, holding your cheek so that your eyes stayed on his. “Don’t do that.”

“B-But, I should be able to-”

“Stop. I won’t listen to you beat on yourself for being afraid,” he shook his head. “You’re so strong, (Y/n). You always have been, but we all have our weaknesses and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Says you,” you muttered, guilt catching your eyes. “You’re the strongest.”

“And you know better than anyone that that’s just a title,” Satoru said earnestly. “Yes there’s truth to it, but none of that takes away from the things that keep me up at night. Just like your grade doesn’t take away your fears.”

He traced the curve of your jaw softly, lifting his free hand to remove his blindfold and tuck it into his pocket. You watched as his white hair fell over his face and his sapphire eyes washed over you, displaying his loving, concerned, understanding gaze. 

“But that doesn’t mean we’re not strong. It’s okay to be scared as long as you know I’m here to help you, and as long as I know you’re here to help me.”

You could feel a lump building in your throat as he gazed at you and he curled his brows, jutting out his bottom lip slightly. 

“Don’t look at me like that, princess, you’ll make me cry,” he said, catching your face in both of his large palms as your hands moved to delicately hold his wrists. “C’mere, baby,” he whispered, drawing your forehead to his lips. The sorcerer then kissed the bridge of your nose and the edge of your brow before letting you fall back into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso as he held you close.

You melted into him and closed your eyes. “Love you, Satoru,” you murmured into him.

He kissed your head again, resting his cheek atop you. “I love you, too, (Y/n). Let’s get you home and all cleaned up, yeah?”

You nodded against him, thankful to the universe that the man you loved made being vulnerable feel like a gentle, welcoming, consuming form of unconditional love. 

But, fuck, did you hate spiders.

[harmonysanreads]

Idk if you saw but Phainon apparently has a hobby in appraising antiques. Just imagine if for his partner he fondly refers to them as his greatest or most priceless treasure. Though on the other hand, it certainly gives "dragon coveting its hoard" kinda vibes. Possibly romantic depending on who you ask, but it speaks volumes of how much he cherishes them.

Yup I've seen his shenanigans regarding this and I must thank you because, I feel like this is a great opportunity to discuss how possessive Phainon can be.

The idea seems contradictory to what Aglaea and Tribbie have told us about him — he's selfless, willingly takes on more burden than he should and pushes himself constantly to meet that image of a ‘perfect vessel’ in order to protect Amphoreus. The term possessiveness should be absolutely unthinkable to be put in the same sentence as his name. Such a noble hero couldn't possibly be... selfish, right?

Phainon himself battles with these doubts, well, it would be more precise to say that he's the one who thinks about it the most out of anyone living in Amphoreus.

The first time he notices the evidences of that particular behavior, it has to be pointed out by someone ; you, one of his comrades or just a random person. Phainon relies on external validation to a degree, his sense of self can be altered through a strong enough comment on his personality.

The process of it developing isn't different from how it would be for anyone ; an attachment to you is secured, outside influences threaten it, he realizes a need to be in your presence more, becomes annoyed when your attention is stolen until it reaches to a point where he's actively trying to maintain it on himself alone. But the thing is, he's so swept up in all the emotions of being in love that he doesn't stop to process them all for quite some time. That's why an external call out is required.

Perhaps it would've been best if no one pointed it out to begin with, because now he's simmering in guilt and shame in his head. The Chrysos Heir is notably rigid for some time, mulling over his every action and word until he's caught in analysis paralysis. Because even if he'd like to convince himself that he's nonchalant, he cares about how you perceive him, a lot.

At the same time as this inner turmoil almost frying him, there is no notable change in his paranoia — if anything, it gets worse. The more he tries to test distance and respect for your personal time and space, the more his anxiety worsens, suddenly devoid of a medium to soothe it with. Two greeting texts increases to ten, phone calls are no longer enough, he needs to see that you're okay and safe.

At one point, a sinister thought somehow plants itself in his mind. He's lost so much ; his home, his family, his friends, his peace and his identity. But he continues sacrificing more, he continues giving up things for the sake of others, for a future marked by uncertainty. Now that there is someone who makes him happy, who he finds solace in, who he genuinely loves... he's demanded again to ‘tone it down’ when all he wants is to spend time with them? Is that not unfair to him?

And well, he brushes it off quickly — not that it completely goes away. These ideas only really torment him when he's not with you, which is another reason why separation will have a physical effect on him if it is extended to a point. Which direction all these inner conflicts and overthinking will take him towards, depends on him alone.

As for the ‘evidences’ mentioned previously, they're so him that it's honestly difficult to tell whether he's being driven by something less than innocent. He usually tends to whine and sulk to prolong your presence, gives you the doe eyes and kicked puppy look. There is also the matter with texts and calls as mentioned previously. He responds to your texts very quickly and tries to keep conversations going for as long as possible, low-key spirals if you're taking too long to respond and insists on hearing your voice, unless you tell him strongly that you aren't comfortable with it.

Is not afraid of showing physical affection in public, likes holding hands and/or linking arms with you at all times. Uses his height to his advantage as well, as in, serving as your personal shield — whether you want it or not. He doesn't really lash out at people, unless of course, they were rude to you. Given his naturally amicable personality, most people don't try to do something outrageous in front of him either. His jealousy is kind of obvious as well and since he tends to use the ‘kicked puppy method’ frequently, it can be difficult to take it seriously, to be honest. Make sure to not let your guard down though.

As for the matter of him calling you his treasure, I personally like to think that he sees his darling as above him, above everyone actually. Treasure implies towards something that was acquired and typically has a material value. Phainon is out there thanking fate and every holy being everyday for blessing him with someone like you, he struggles to even answer the question of ‘what he likes most about you’ (it's everything). He might say it out of affection in the spur of a moment once, but in his heart, your worth exceeds the notion of treasures.

[kiddotarot]

Your Moon the habits you develop to avoid neglacation from past life.

1H/Aries = you need administration or acceptaion from others people. You want to be seen you don't like to stay in background. In past life when you looked you got accepted now you develop this tendency over and over again in this life your emotional self feel neglected because of it. In your past life your opinions and feeling held by upper position thats why the need to out.

2H/ Taurus = you want your body comfortable and safe and you also need physical comforation by others life hug , forehead kisses and if you ever feel neglected you can develop skin sensitivity and skin problems and may be comforts eating is becoming you escape when you feel neglected by others.you sacrifice your emotional need for mone and lern to live in less so soul need to complete it need there is a guilt of wanting more.

3H/Gemini = you crave for attention and want to listen by others. Most likely mental acceptance. If you feel neglected self talking or continuously talking become your problem to block your emotional needs. In past life your soul in not appreciated in feeling or sharing your thoughts slowly soul learn to cover it up.

4H/Cancer = You need emotional validation and acceptance from strong bond or from person . Home is important for you otherwise you feel lost. You need a mother a very soft nature mother your soul carried . Your DNA can have wands of female from past generation in your family or your soul experienced the separation of child.

5H/Leo = You need to be adored and want to feel powerful otherwise it becomes drama queen. In past life you can be very proud on you no watters what happened you never ask for help even you are dying . So in this life time soul want to earn the validation of that part.

6H/virgo = your soul is rewarded in past life for doing every little thing so that's why you are very insecure about taking desion and like to pay details on small things. May be in past life your family in past life or in this life have thing to critized thing and slowly you develop it in this life time.

7H/Libra = your soul is craved for acceptance , adoration and peaceful surrounding. Comfort is important for you somehow povert idea terrified you. Somehow you forced to make surround nice no matter what situation is. Anger and other emotions showing is tottaly banned and you leared to get in this mold.

8H/ scorpio = when you are emotionally unfulfilled so its become abusive it can be any type of abuse. Past life or your current life secrets are included like drugs , abuse and may be dissappearing of a person in your life. There is emotional intensity but you or your family want to hide it.

9H/ sagittarius = your emotions seek companionship and acceptance someting ehich can make you more smater and your hunger of knowledge. Discussing someting is your emotional healing. Your soul may be grew up in a surrounding where no one is truthful so your soul learns to be honestly brutal in this life time may be it need to fix.

10H/capricorn = you need success, approval and things to right . It want to remsin control but still want to nourishment. Your soul get tired of to be too much responsible and duty oriananted. It strongly want good carrer , name but neglected his own fulfillment now you need to fill it.

11H/ Aquarius = you have great experience and talent to work with society. But you need a close emotional and approval to get nourishment. Your pattren can be a fighter and a revolutionary person may be someone in your family. But it forget to creat a safe space home can be rarely a home .

12H/pisces = what you desire is emotionally melded relationship actually you just feed off other people. Your soul feels right to secrafice yourself for others tottaly devoted it can be for anything . You need to set boundaries hun.