#reminder that not all methods work for everyone!

[ncvqk]

Where the Wings Once Were | Alex Cabot x Casey Novak

chapter one loosely based on Let Down by Radiohead 3.5k i didnt really edit this and i kinda forgot what i wrote already...

The file slipped from Casey’s hands and scattered across the bullpen floor like a burst of paper snow.

“Shit—sorry,” she muttered, already dropping to her knees, fingers scrambling to gather the scattered pages before anyone could look too long or care too much. Her hands shook, just slightly, but enough to make the pages bend and crinkle in her grip. She could feel the tremor starting in her wrists and working its way up her arms like static.

The blazer she wore, borrowed, a size too big, folded awkwardly at the shoulders and swallowed her frame. It made her feel like a kid playing dress-up, like everyone could see through the fabric to the imposter underneath. Her cheeks burned. God, she hated how easily she blushed, how quickly nerves painted her face in blotchy red. It wasn’t just embarrassment. It was exposure. A flare that said: Look at me. I don’t belong here.

Alex appeared beside her without a word, her movement so smooth and quiet it felt choreographed. She crouched with practiced grace, her heels barely making a sound as they touched the tiles. Without hesitation, she reached for one of the loose pages, pinching it delicately between two fingers. Her nails were perfectly filed, glossy with a pale polish that never chipped. Not a single wrinkle marred her suit—tailored, expensive, composed, just like her.

Casey didn’t look up, but she could feel the heat of Alex’s presence next to her, the subtle perfume she wore, something sharp and clean, intimidating in its own right. It made Casey hyper-aware of everything: the way her own hair was slipping from its bun, the ink smudge on her palm, the awkward slump of her blazer across her back.

“You know,” Alex said finally, her voice as calm and clipped as always, “if you want to make a dramatic entrance, it helps to have an opening line.”

She said it lightly, but there was a smile just beneath the words—a carefully placed olive branch wrapped in sarcasm. 

Casey glanced at her then, cheeks still burning, but her mouth tugged into a crooked, embarrassed grin that barely masked her panic. “Sorry. I—uh—I was just trying to find the lab report. For the Sanderson case.” Her voice wavered on the last syllable, the kind of crack that didn’t go unnoticed in a room like this.

Alex nodded, already flipping through the disheveled stack with practiced efficiency. Her fingers methodically, not a single page bent or smudged under her touch. “It’s in here,” she said after a moment, holding up a section like it had been obvious all along. “Second section. You organized this chronologically instead of by relevance.”

Casey’s face crumpled. “I thought it would make more sense that way,” she said, voice smaller now, defensive and shrinking in the same breath.

Alex paused, and for a second, Casey thought she might snap. Correct her sharply, remind her of court protocol, or worse, tell her to hand the whole thing off to someone else. But instead, Alex looked at her, not unkindly, but with a sort of distant patience, like a teacher watching a student figure out the wrong formula in real time.

“It might,” she said, her tone even, “if you were telling a story. But a judge doesn’t care about your narrative arc. They want facts. Fast.”

The words weren’t cruel, but they hit anyway, clipped and exact like everything Alex said. Casey’s stomach sank. She swallowed hard, the back of her throat tight.

“Right,” she murmured, nodding as if it would help the heat in her face fade any faster.

Alex stood, offering a hand. Casey hesitated before taking it.

“I’ve seen worse first weeks,” Alex said as they finished collecting the pages. “Much worse.”

Casey smiled, awkwardly. “That’s comforting.”

“Don’t get too comfortable. You’re in SVU now. Nothing about this place is.”

She handed the reassembled file back. “Come by my office after lunch. We’ll go over your strategy for the preliminary hearing.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know,” Alex interrupted. “But I want to.”

Casey blinked.

Alex paused, then added, “I see potential in you.”

And that was it. Nothing dramatic. Just a small moment. A kindness dressed up as a professional courtesy. But Casey carried it with her. Because it was the first time anyone had ever said they saw something in her that wasn’t broken.

After weeks of too much stress and not nearly enough sleep, Casey stood stiffly in front of Alex’s desk, an amended motion clutched in her hands like a fragile truce. Her fingers were clenched too tightly around the paper, leaving faint creases along the edges. She’d rewritten it twice—three times, if she counted the version she’d deleted at 3 a.m. out of sheer self-loathing. Half the night had been spent staring at a blinking cursor, her thoughts circling like vultures, second-guessing every comma, every phrase, every citation.

Now, standing in the cold morning light of Alex’s office, it looked wrong. Stupid. Thin. Amateurish in a way she couldn’t quite articulate but felt deep in her gut. Still, she handed it over.

Alex took it without a word. She didn’t offer a smile or a nod, just began skimming, her lips pressed into a flat line of focus. Her eyes moved over the page with mechanical precision. She flipped to the second page. Then the third.

Casey stood frozen. The silence in the room was suffocating, broken only by the faint rustle of turning pages and the ticking of the wall clock behind her. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, heavy and insistent. She became aware of everything—her too-warm sweater, the stale taste of coffee on her tongue, the sweat gathering at the base of her neck and along her spine. Her legs ached from standing so straight.

“I changed the section on chain of custody,” she offered, the words tumbling out faster than she intended. “I added precedent from—”

“I see it,” Alex said, cutting in without looking up.

The silence that followed stretched, long and thin. Not quite a reprimand, but not encouragement either. Just space. Heavy with unspoken judgment—or maybe that was just Casey's imagination, working overtime again.

She bit the inside of her cheek and forced herself not to shift her weight. She’d spent so long trying to get this right. Trying to prove she could keep up. That she belonged in this office, in this job, in Alex Cabot’s orbit. But all she could think now was that maybe she hadn’t come close.

Alex circled a paragraph, her pen slicing through the air with sharp, practiced motions that echoed louder than they should have in the quiet room. The ink bled across the page like a wound.

“This part’s too soft,” she said, voice calm but cutting. “You’re hedging again. You’re not here to be liked, Novak. You’re here to persuade.”

Casey’s mouth opened, the beginnings of an excuse forming before she could stop it. “I was trying not to sound too—”

“Too what?” Alex looked up then, sharply, eyes pinning her in place like a specimen under glass. “Too confident? God forbid?”

The words were quick, biting, and so precisely targeted they might as well have been tailored for the very insecurity Casey was trying so hard to hide.

Casey flinched—just slightly, but enough. Her spine stiffened, and her grip on the folder tightened.

“No,” she said quickly. “I just—”

“You’re not in law school anymore,” Alex said, voice quieter now but no less firm. “No one’s grading you on humility. Say what needs to be said. Say it like it’s the only version that matters.”

Casey didn’t reply. She wanted to scream. She wanted to explain that it wasn’t insecurity, it was hatred. A deep, gnawing certainty that she was always a few steps behind. That she was a fraud. That she didn’t belong here, in this office, in this life, with her.

Instead, she nodded. “I’ll fix it.”

Alex hesitated. “I only push because I want you to succeed.”

“I know,” Casey whispered.

But she didn’t. Not really.

To her, success was something that happened to other people. To Alex. Not to screwups. Not to girls who almost didn’t make it through law school. Not to her. Alex went back to her notes, and Casey turned to leave. Her fingers were still trembling. 

Outside the office, the hallway felt too bright. Her shoes echoed on the polished tile, each step sounding louder than it should have. The cold air hit her like a slap, too sharp after the tight, heavy stillness of Alex’s office.

She kept her head down as she walked, hoping no one would stop her, no one would look too closely and see what was written all over her face.

The restroom door swung open with a creak. She stepped inside and didn’t even glance at the mirror. Just moved quickly into the last stall, shut the door, and locked it with trembling fingers. She sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, legs folded in, like curling into herself might make her smaller. Might make it easier to breathe.

She pressed her palms hard against her eyes until stars bloomed behind her eyelids. It didn’t help. Her chest still felt tight, like something enormous was pressing down on it. The tears threatened anyway—hot, sudden, unwelcome.

Casey gritted her teeth and sucked in a shaky breath through her nose. She wasn’t going to cry over this. She wasn’t.

But it was never just one thing. Not the motion. Not the circled paragraph. Not even the sharp edge in Alex’s voice. It was all of it: every late night, every second-guess, every time she felt like she was chasing a version of competence that kept moving just out of reach.

She was trying. God, she was trying so hard. And right now, it didn’t feel like it was enough.

That night, Casey stood by the kitchen sink, still in her work clothes, staring out the window like she expected something to be there. A sign, maybe. A reason. Instead, it was just the city, loud and vast and painfully indifferent.

She hadn’t turned on any lights. She liked it better like this, dim and half-shadowed, like the world didn’t fully see her. Like maybe she didn’t have to fully see herself.

On the counter sat a half-eaten sandwich from the deli by the courthouse and the same mug of coffee she kept reheating without ever finishing.

Her phone buzzed. She ignored it.

She was tired. Not the kind that sleep could fix. The kind that lived in her bones. Most people assumed she came from money. She looked the part now, with tailored jackets, a law degree, and polished shoes. But they didn’t see the student loans, or the double shifts she worked at nineteen, or the public library computers she used to write her first legal briefs.

They didn’t see her mother crying behind a closed bedroom door. Or the way her father left like it was a deployment he forgot to return from.

They didn’t know what it was like to fight her way through every room, knowing she was the youngest, the only woman, the one with the least pedigree, and probably the most to prove.

And she had fought. God, she had fought.

Through community college. Through the bar. Through nights she didn’t think she’d make it to morning. Through professors who called her “fiery” when they meant “angry.” Through men who looked at her and saw either a challenge or a joke.

Alex had never made her feel like that.

Alex had made her feel seen. Capable. Like maybe she really could be more than a survivor clawing her way up a staircase that was always just a little too steep. But somewhere along the way, Casey had turned that admiration into a measurement.

If Alex raised an eyebrow, Casey shrank. If Alex praised her, Casey lit up like it meant something. Like she meant something.

She hated that. Hated that her entire sense of self could tilt so easily on someone else’s expression.

But when you’ve never really believed you deserved to be here — not alive, not successful, not seen — it doesn’t take much to knock you off balance.

She washed the mug. Dried it. Her reflection in the window looked tired.

“You’re a disaster,” she whispered.

She turned away from the window.

Left the light off.

Morning filtered in pale through the blinds, casting narrow stripes across the floor. The DA's office was quieter before nine, hushed in a way that made footsteps sound like interruptions.

Casey hovered by Alex's open door, clutching the latest revision.

Alex didn’t look up right away. She was scribbling notes in the margin of a file. Her blonde hair was tied back, black pen glinting in her fingers like a scalpel. Precision in every movement.

“You have something for me?”

Casey stepped in and handed over the new draft. “Amended again. Took your note about hedging.”

Alex flipped to the highlighted section. Her eyes darted across the lines, scanning like she was trying to locate weakness before it could take root.

Casey stood still.

She knew not to fidget. She’d taught herself how to stand in court with hands folded and chin up. She could name fourteen federal evidentiary rules from memory but still felt, in moments like this, like she was twelve years old and waiting to be graded.

Alex hummed under her breath as her eyes skimmed the page. “You brought in People v. Kent, finally.”

Casey nodded, pulse quickening. “It’s a better fit than McCullough. Stronger precedent on inadmissible statements in custodial settings. The fact pattern lined up more cleanly with ours, especially on the Miranda issue.”

Alex nodded slowly, flipping to the next section. “Mm. Good call.”

Her pen tapped lightly against the margin, then stilled. “And here—you cited Jenkins, but it’s dicta. Try State v. Lyle instead. It’s stickier, but more defensible on cross.”

Casey leaned forward slightly, already mentally rewriting. “I can fix it. I can rewrite that whole section tonight—”

“No,” Alex said, with a small shake of her head. “This is good. Just tighten that one part.”

Casey froze. “You think it’s good?”

She hadn’t meant to sound so surprised. Or so uncertain. But the words escaped before she could soften them, and she hated the way her voice gave her away.

Alex looked up then, brows lifting just slightly, like she hadn’t realized Casey needed the words spelled out. Like she was only now seeing how much Casey had been chasing this moment.

“It’s sharp,” Alex said, and her voice was quieter now, not soft exactly, but more deliberate. “You found your footing. It shows.”

Casey pressed her lips together to hide the twitch in her expression. “Thanks.”

Alex didn’t say anything else, but her eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary. Something unspoken hung between them, too heavy to name and too delicate to touch. Then, just like that, her gaze dropped back to the page, retreating into the safe order of notes and ink and facts.

Casey stayed quiet. She didn’t trust her voice not to crack, didn’t trust herself not to ruin the moment by trying to hold on too tightly. So she just sat there, holding the shape of Alex’s words in her mind like they were something precious. Like they might be enough to get her through the rest of the week, maybe longer.

Alex offered a small smile—barely there. Not warm, not soft, but sincere in a way that still managed to leave a mark. “Keep drafting like this,” she said, almost offhandedly. “And the judges might stop underestimating you.”

Casey nodded. Or tried to. Her head moved, but her chest had already started to tighten, like the air had thickened around her ribs. Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? The truth of it, the ache buried just under the surface. People underestimated her because she walked into rooms like she didn’t belong in them. And maybe she didn’t. Maybe that was the problem.

She didn’t know how to stop walking like that, like she was always bracing for someone to notice the cracks. Not when half her mind was still convinced she’d tricked her way into this life with a little too much ambition and a little too little proof.

Alex didn’t look at her again. She didn’t need to. Her pen moved steadily across the page, her handwriting measured and precise, each stroke confident, like a metronome ticking time in a world that made sense to her.

“I’ll use this in my argument tomorrow,” she said, eyes scanning the margins. “If anything comes up in the discovery review, flag it. No surprises.”

“Of course,” Casey replied, trying to keep her voice steady, though her hands still trembled slightly from the adrenaline of the critique and rare praise.

Alex looked up from the paper, her eyes meeting Casey’s with a quiet intensity. “Novak?”

Casey stopped mid-turn, caught off guard by the sudden address. “Yeah?”

“You don’t have to fix everything in one night.”

The words weren’t harsh. There was no judgment in Alex’s tone, just something steady, maybe even gently pragmatic. But for Casey, they landed like a small stone in the pit of her stomach, stirring up a swirl of emotions she wasn’t ready to face.

“Sure,” she said finally, voice thin and brittle, as if the words themselves were fragile. “But some things don’t wait.”

Their eyes met for a breath too long. A pause too still, too fragile to hold.

Then, without another word, Casey stepped out into the hallway. The soft click of the door behind her landed like a punctuation mark, precise and final. A closing bracket on everything left unsaid.

Alex stayed where she was. Motionless. Eyes fixed on the space where Casey had just stood, as if it still held the echo of her presence. The silence crept back in, folding over the room like tissue paper: thin, weightless, but suffocating if you let it linger too long. The kind that rustles if you breathe wrong. The kind that knows the sound of holding back.

She glanced down at the motion in front of her. Clean. Crisp. Elegant without ornament. The kind of argument she wouldn’t hesitate to stake her name on. Not a line wasted. Not a phrase out of place.

Casey had stayed up all night rewriting this. Alex could see it in the edges. In the polish that came not from instinct but from effort. There was a sharpness to the prose now, like every word had been filed down to its final shape. Nothing accidental. Nothing soft.

The case law aligned like vertebrae, tight, purposeful, and inevitable.

And Alex felt it then, that impossible ache of pride. Not loud or sweeping, but something quieter. Twined with caution. Tangled with memory.

Novak had potential. More than potential. She was brilliant, when she let herself be. Tenacious to the bone, unpolished, but real. Still so new to the heat that she didn’t realize she was already burning.

Alex had seen it before, in others, in herself, but it hit differently with Novak. The way she carried herself like she was bracing for impact. Like if she moved too suddenly, she might come apart at the seams. The way she looked at Alex like a lighthouse and a guillotine all at once.

That was dangerous. Too familiar.

She knew the signs. The hunger. The fear. The all-nighters. The self-revisions that went too deep. The way even praise felt like a test, and every critique became a wound. She knew what it meant to measure your worth in wins and redlines. To confuse excellence with survival.

Alex had been there. Still lived there, sometimes. Cabots didn’t fail. Cabots didn’t flinch. There was no safety net in her lineage. Only the quiet, pressing weight of legacy — of ghosts who left no room for error.

And Casey… Casey was learning how to live in silence, but she kept walking through fire like that was the only way to prove she belonged.

Alex let out a slow breath. She didn’t know how to mentor this or how to hold someone together without holding them down.

She could sharpen Casey, teach her how to argue with teeth, how to wear the robe and wield the words and never look like she was afraid. She could help her rise. But could she help her stay standing?

Or would she just pass down a torch that burned too hot to carry?

Her eyes fell back to the motion. Her own initials had been scrawled in the corner, not out of necessity, just reflex. A quiet cosign.

She just wants to do it right. She wants to be enough.

And the part that snagged — the part Alex couldn’t bring herself to say aloud — was that Casey already was. She just didn’t know it and Alex didn’t know how to make her believe it.

[study-core-101]

The Leitner System (also known as Flashcards)

Studyblr favourite study method! But, how do we actually use it?

Steps

Create flashcards: on the front of a card, write a question or cue. On the back, write the answer or corresponding information. Make enough cards to cover every topic you need to study for.

Sort the flashcards into boxes: easy/medium/hard or other label that works for you.

Review your flashcards: Grab the first box. Read the side with the question. If you answer correctly, continue with the next. If you answer incorrectly, move the card to the back.

Gradually increasd diffuculty: once you feel confident with the cards of the first box, move to the second. Continue until you reviewed every box.

Repeat: repeat the process; focus on the questions you have more trouble with and review less the easier one (but never none!)

Remember to rest between repetition! Not only you need rest, but this method works because of Spaced Repetition, meaning the more often you encounter the information, the less often you need to refresh your memory.

Pros

Effective, practicing over a four-month period for just 30 minutes a day “you can expect to learn and retain 3600 flashcards with 90 to 95 percent accuracy”.

You can gamefy it! I personally think this is why it's so popular, you can treat it like you are playing so studying becomes less tedius

Cons

Needs a lot of time. You need to start early. You cant expect to make it work if you start the night before. Specially if you have a lot of flashcards. Going through all of them over and over can take hours for only a few repetitions. If you dont have a lot of time before the test, another study method would work better.

Subjects we recommend this method for

Any subject that has a theorical part and specially Biology & related. Not the best method for History in my opinion, but many may disagree.

[cloverapple]

How I Shift On Command + How You Can Too

I don’t plan on posting anything other than this or starting a blog, so I don’t need anyone to “believe” in me. The only person you should trust is yourself—trust yourself to resonate positively with what you see online and click away if it doesn’t serve you. This is here for you to take from if it resonates. I literally only made this blog to post this here. My hope is that it reaches at least one person who can take something from this and apply it to their shifting journey. If not, and this post ends up here untouched, I’m just glad to finally get everything down in words and off my chest. 

Jumping straight to the answer because I’m not going to make anyone sit through a long post for it. The rest, the "advice," is here if you want to read it.

The "method"

I figured out what works specifically for me as an individual instead of following everyone else’s journey. Everyone has their “thing” that makes shifting click, a sweet spot that makes reality shifting possible. For me, it’s a combination of the law of assumption and inducing an altered state of consciousness.

During the day, I spend time affirming—or sometimes just reminding myself or keeping a little note nearby—things like:

I can shift.

I know how to shift.

I could shift tonight.

Shifting is accessible to me.

At night, I watch videos, look at Pinterest boards, or listen to music that reminds me of my DR. This ingrains where I’m going in my brain. Sometimes I do this for fun, and other times I skip it entirely.

When I lay down, I always lie on my back and stay somewhat still because I like the feeling of my body going numb. This isn’t necessary to shift, but I enjoy it—it lets me feel the symptoms of hypnagogia (that in-between state of wakefulness and sleep).

To meditate quickly, I count from 1 to 100 with a few affirmations in between to remind myself of what I’m doing. I do this until my body goes numb, and I start messing up the counting. Usually, the mistakes or random, nonsensical thoughts are my signal to start shifting.

At this point, I begin affirming the things I affirmed during the day:

I could shift right now.

I have the ability to shift.

I have the power to shift at any moment.

While I do this, I focus on the feeling of being in my DR—not my surroundings, not my senses, just the internal feeling of being there.

This is where “brazen impudence” comes in. I hard-force myself to feel like I’m in my DR. It’s not about imagining my surroundings but purely about embodying the feeling of being there.

Hypnagogic imagery and sensations like floating often kick in at this point. These are symptoms of your body falling asleep so your awareness can take shape in that sweet spot for shifting.

I continue this, then stop and start counting from 1 to 100 again, with affirmations like:

I can shift.

I know how to shift.

I could shift right now.

Then I repeat the process: using brazen impudence to force myself to feel like I’m in my DR.

Eventually, I reach that threshold between sleep and wake—a liminal state of pure consciousness. Body asleep, mind awake, I call this the “rabbit hole” which is honstly just a deep state of hypnogogia. It’s a state where anything is possible: lucid dreaming, astral projection, slipping into the void, shifting—anything.

When I’m in this state, I use brazen impudence to force myself to feel like I'm shifting to my DR and don't take no for an answer (I tell myself I'm in Barbados and shut the door in my own face). This can involve affirmations or just talking myself through it, either way I wake myself up there. Occasionally, I simply relax, expect to wake up in my DR, fall asleep, and wake up shifted.

Does all that sound complicated? Let me simplify:

Lay down and get comfortable.

Count from 1 to 100 on a loop with affirmations in between until you mess up the counting, get sleepy, or have your mind wander. Like this:

Me: *counts from 1 - 100* Me: *says a few affirmations/askfirmations* Me: *counts from 1 - 100* Me: *says a few affirmations/askfirmations*

On a loop until...

Persist in the feel of being in your DR—not focusing on surroundings or senses, just the feeling. Feeling is the secret.

Alternate between steps 2 and 3 until you’re in that relaxed body asleep/mind awake state, OR just straight up hypnogogia tbh. (That is, if you don’t already shift lol)

From there, choose what feels right: shift from a lucid dream, affirm, slip into the void, or just feel yourself in your DR like I do, convince yourself that either you shifted and are there, or are shifting and will end up there.

One thing I’ll tell you now—regardless of your circumstances, how long you’ve been trying, how long it’ll take, who you are, etc—is that you already know how to shift. You, reading this right now. You know how to shift, and there’s nothing you did to learn it. There’s nothing you can do to unlearn it. It’s something that will stay with you until the end of time.

Why do you think people shift randomly without prior knowledge of shifting? Even people who don’t believe in it? It’s because everyone can shift. You can shift.

Right now, stop reading this post and say in your head or out loud, “I already know how to shift.” Or, if that doesn’t feel right, “I already have the ability to shift,” “No matter what, I have the power to shift,” or “My mind knows how to shift no matter what.”

Can you argue that? No, you can’t. And if your mind starts throwing out “buts,” go back and read that again.

Shifting isn’t difficult, and no one struggles to shift. I’m sure you’ve heard it before—that shifting is simple and happens in seconds—because it does. You don’t struggle with shifting. You can shift; everyone has the power to. What you “struggle” with, so to speak, is figuring out what works for you, what your brain likes, how it operates—because everyone is different.

What ended up working for me more than anything was figuring out how I operate and modifying shifting to fit me—not forcing myself to fit shifting.

Will my method work for everyone? I have no idea. Unless you assume it will work for you, this is what works for me. I’m me, and you’re you.

Before you say “Oh, but I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked so far” and expect me to sit here and ask you “but have you really tried everything? <3” , listen to me. 

I could shift perfectly well with my own personal method before I started shifting regularly. I knew it worked well for my brain, but the thing that “blocked” me (so to speak) were my assumptions. 

When you sit there and say “I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked” that’s your assumption about yourself. You believe that nothing works for you, that you don't know how to shift, that you’re this powerless, lost baby shifter who needs guidance. 

There’s nothing wrong with this, it’s not your fault, and theoretically you could shift even with your “blockages” (I really hate that term), as shifting waits for no one.

This is why so many people shift randomly and with poor assumptions without meaning to. But you clicked on this because you want to know how you can shift consistently + on every time, and this is the answer I’m giving you. 

You find out what works better for you, be it affirming, visualizing, scripting, shifting awake, shifting asleep, shifting with hypnagogia, shifting with hypnopompic, shifting through lucid dreams, shifting with brazen impudence, through SATs, robotic affirming, through letting go, through putting your DR on a pedestal, through listening to music, through law of assumption alone, and many more. 

If that sounds overwhelming, please note that all of these are the same vehicles that get you to your destination. Just in different shapes and colors. Like how some people drive a car, others drive a motorcycle, others walk, others swim. The movement forward is always the same. 

What you’re doing, no matter how you’re doing it or in whatever state of consciousness you’re doing it from, will always be:

Assume it's true, feel it, receive it. “Assume and persist,” “ground yourself in the assumption,” you’ve heard it all before. 

How to Find What Makes You Shift On Command

You could either test different techniques (affirmations, visualizations, scripting, lucid dreaming, etc.) and see what feels natural to you. 

You could (and I love this one because it’s a cheat code) Assume you already know what works, and let the law of assumption guide you. “Manifest it” so to speak. 

Pay attention to your life, because you already shift on command, you've been doing it your whole life, but I guarantee you haven't noticed it. Pay attention to you, like how easily you slip into hypnagogia, your dream recall, or how strong your intuition is, maybe you put too much emotion into a scenario you don’t want in your life and it inherently manifests, things like that. Pay attention to the thing that makes you go “huh, that was weird”

“But Clover, I tried everything you mentioned above and still haven’t found my method!” 

My darling. Listen up. Come closer—I’m about to let you in on a secret. The way you apply the law of assumption isn’t one-size-fits-all, because assumptions and beliefs are not linear. It's the same every time, yes, it's a law. But just like you, the way you can use it is unique to each person.

Let me tell you how easy it is so you don't think I'm over-complicating it

You could, for instance, believe you’ve got $1000 in your bank account right now and act like it, fully living in the end. Or you could believe you’re going to have $1000 in your account and act like it’s already on its way. Or maybe you believe something’s going to happen that’ll bring you that $1000.

The same applies to shifting. It’s been a game changer for me. I used to struggle so much with things like:

“You’re already in your DR, just act like it.”

“Ignore the 3D.”

“You’ve already shifted.”

Do those methods work? Absolutely, they work beautifully. But like I said, if it doesn’t feel good or true to you, don’t force it.

My dearest, darling reader. If the story you see in your 3D is that you can’t shift, can’t find what makes you shift, are you just going to sit there and accept it? What is more satisfying? Think with me here: accepting that you don’t know how to shift and cannot shift, or persisting that you do know how to shift? 

“Clover, but I’ve been trying for 4 years! I’ve tried everything and I still haven’t shifted”

So that's your story? Your story, your assumption is that you’ve been trying for 4 years and haven’t shifted? If you’ve resonated with the phrase above, that’s your story. And there’s nothing wrong with it, but! there will be no magic solution for shifting. Or a magic method. Or a person like me giving you advice, that can make you shift without you changing your assumptions first.

“But I don’t want to reprogram my mind! It doesn’t work for me. I don’t want to do robotic affirming 24/7, I want results now!” 

I know, right? It’s annoying having to do these 100-step methods, and drink charged water, and have to beg the universe for your desire, and loop affirmations in your mind that directly contradict what you’re experiencing in the 3D.

“Oh ignore the 3D, the 4D is your only real imagination!” they say, as you sit there, clutching your phone, rocking back and forth in bed, repeating affirmations you don’t resonate with while dreaming of being railed by your S/O.

Believe me, I've been there, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I asked myself why couldn't these basic steps that worked for everyone else work for me. I blamed myself for not trying hard enough, for being lazy, for inconsistent. When all that time, the answer was me. I needed to manifest/shift in a way that felt good for me.

Just remember, the law of assumption isn't complicated, and the way you apply it is not one-size-fits-all. Reprogramming the mind through continuous repetition and affirmation works, and if that resonates with you or feels effective, you should absolutely go for it.

However, at its core, you don’t inherently need to reprogram your mind. It’s as simple as assuming your mind has already been reprogrammed and watching it unfold before your eyes. You do what feels right to you.

For example, if person A does better with visualization and listening to music, why on earth are they affirming and listening to subliminals?

If person B feels better scripting in a notebook, why the hell are they reprogramming their mind?

If person C feels good reprogramming their mind, why are they taking the simple route?

Funny, isn't it? Which is why if you've read all of this so far, and you have not resonated with it, just click away. Go find another post or advice that feels true to you. The words I'm writing right now are not universal, they're not the absolute truth. That's the beauty of the law of assumption. Whatever you believe to be true, becomes true.

I didn’t feel good with the affirmations “I’m already in my DR” and “I already shifted.” Do they work, are they true? Yup, but I didn’t feel good ignoring the 3D, even when I knew the 4D was the true reality. So I swapped them for affirmations like "I'm shifting to my DR", “I’m going to shift to my DR”, swapping things like “I already shifted” to “I’m shifting” because those are the kinds of affirmations my brain loves. 

I've heard a silly bit of misinfo that these affirmations stating future events put you in an infinite loop, and that they don’t make you achieve your desire. That’s not true? At all? Makes me laugh, really. Because here I am, “master shifter” or whatever name people give it in this reality, shifting as much as I want to wherever I want with these types of affirmations.

Yet here I see every day on the internet, people implanting stubborn little rules and regulations to a practice that has been done for ages, a universal law that will work even when you don’t care for it to work. 

How I Shifted The First Time

The law of assumption is what made me shift in the end. Initially, I surprised myself at the beginning of my shifting journey because I shifted three months after starting it. I woke up one morning in my DR room, felt it was real, knew it was possible, but accidentally shifted back because it was too good to be true. 

What followed was a period of losing my mind; I shift back to my DR for a few seconds (mini-shifts), fully shifted to different rparallel ealities, and filled the hell out of shifting journals with my discoveries as I went along. But I never fully shifted to my DR and stayed there. I wanted to permashift. I was so focused on leaving my CR and going to my DR permanently, frustrated because I knew I could shift, knew how to in theory, but was stuck in this endless loop of assuming I couldn't make myself shift and had to rely on spontaneous shifts.

And then one night it clicked when I was reflecting on the law of assumption and reality shifting. I knew shifting was real. I knew I could shift. Everyone can shift. I had shifted before. I would continue to shift even if I gave up on shifting. I could shift that night if I wanted to. I could shift that night even if I didn't want to. I knew how to shift. And so do you.

These are all assumptions I went to sleep with in mind, laying there, feeling like an idiot as it all clicked for me. 

If there was no doubt in my mind that I could shift that night, why wouldn’t I be able to shift? 

What followed was an overwhelming sense of peace washing over me. I let go. What more was there to be done? I could shift. There was no crying or screaming that could make me shift more than I could right then. 

I laid there and started my process. Just like I mentioned earlier. I began counting from 1 - 100 on a continuous loop. With affirmations that I could shift, I knew how to shift , I could shift that night.

And then I reached hypnagogia, and began inducing the feeling of being in my DR, just like I mentioned earlier. That liminal space rabbit hole shortly followed. I could go anywhere I wanted then. I could lucid dream. I could astral project. I could slip into the void. I could shift, and I did. Just…letting go and inducing the feeling of being in my DR. Not the surroundings, not the 5 senses, no affirmations. Just knowing that I was in my Dr. 

It was peaceful. 

I was at ease. 

And then I was woken up by a violent crack of thunder because my dumbass scripted my DR wakeup scenario to be in the middle of spring, and it was raining -_- 

I woke up in my DR, fully grounded, fully there, pinching my skin purple because I couldn't believe I was looking out the window at my DR city.

I wish I could tell you that I remained cool, but I so didn’t. I sat in bed for a good 10 minutes, mouth agape, repeating “oohh fuck it’s real….ohhh my god it’s real…whaaat the hell.” 

And then I paced around my room panicking, giggling like an idiot, checking my DR phone because all my friends and DR life was on there as evidence, opening drawers, looking at myself in the mirror, and straight-up freaking out. 

What followed after that was incredible, something I lack the words to describe. I spent a few weeks in my DR before shifting back, spending a few weeks here and then shifting back–here, back, here, back and forth, spending more time in my DR then my CR to the point where I consider my DR my true reality, and this one as my “other” reality. 

I shifted back here in early December of last year, and I’m here now before I shift back permanently—meaning, I’ll shift there, and then the next time I shift will be to another DR or a waiting room somewhere in the multiverse. I’m taking a "break" so to speak and hanging out here until events I scripted in my DR start to happen, and my life changes (positively, all good things I assure). 

I’m not sure if the person or people who find this post will care, but my other reality was originally called my “Witch DR”, where, as the name suggests, I’m a witch :) But not the fun kind, with a broomstick, a cauldron, and a pet cat though 😂The kind where I have to be up early for work in the mornings, can’t keep a cat because the building I live in doesn’t allow it, and have more responsibilities there than I do in this reality. 

One thing I didn’t expect about shifting before I lived there the first time is that—it’s life. You will have good days. You will have bad days. You will fuck up. You will laugh so hard that soda comes out of your nose. You will cry more than you ever have. And the people you once saw on a TV screen are very real, and can be very annoying lol. I miss my DR friends dearly right now, but I can’t go poking around the internet for videos and pictures of them because it feels so weird. 

Gut feelings are strange. I use them as a compass in both realities whenever I have to manually flap the butterfly’s wings and take a route. I felt compelled to write this post, and I’m not sure why. But if what this post has the power to help one singular person and help them realize their power, I'll be beyond happy.

[thydungeongal]

GMing doesn't have to be a chore and can in fact be extremely fun and rewarding but there are certain learned behaviors and attitudes that make things harder on the GM. Here are just a few tips on how to make the job easier on the GM which also may have the side effect of making the game more fun for everyone:

Everyone should make an effort to learn the rules. The rules are not there to make the game unfun and they are not a necessary evil, they are there to help carry the game so the group doesn't have to do all the work. And everyone taking part in learning the rules means the GM doesn't always have to be the one to remember how a rule works.

To that end, drop the "GM is the final word on the rules" attitude. This places the GM on a pedestal and can actually run counter to the idea of players learning the rules. If the GM has carte blanche to run over the rules it disincentivices players learning the rules because they can't actually rely on the text, and now you're right back to the GM having to carry the whole game. It is entirely okay for players to remind the GM how the rules should work and the group should agree on a method for dealing with rules disputes, and spot rulings should not rely on the GM making a unilateral decision but should rely on some kind of consensus.

Communicate your desires to the group and be willing to compromise; respect each other's prep. You may want a game that focuses on a long-form narrative but the GM wants to run an episodic series of largely unrelated singleton adventures. The GM is the one who is bringing the game, so ultimately be willing to compromise on your vision of the game and respect their prep. Ultimately, if the GM does not want to run the exact type of game you want and you can't see yourself having fun in the type of game they want to run, you will be doing everyone a favor by recusing yourself from the game.

Related to the above, communicating your desires should be an ongoing process. End each session by talking about what you want to do next and where you think the game should go. This will also make it easier for the GM to prep ahead.

This relates to learning the rules: pick a game that actually supports the type of game you want to run. Trust me, whatever time you think you will save by sticking to a game you already know you will make back by not having to fight the rules all the time and actually letting the rules take an active part in carrying the game.

You can literally just use prewritten adventures. Not every campaign or adventure needs to be custom-tailored for your specific group. Using prewritten adventures means that someone's already done a lot of the prep for you.

And finally, don't prep any more than you need to: there is this persistent myth that GMs need to have the entire campaign and world planned from the word go to begin with. While there is nothing wrong with expansive worldbuilding as such, you don't need to prep anything beyond what is strictly necessary. If you're running a wide open sandbox you can get by with a rough sketch of the world and only write things in as they become relevant. If you're running a megadungeon your players don't have to know that you've only prepared the first level for the first session, as long as you have a cohesive broad strokes plan that is perfectly fine. If you're running an episodic campaign, well, you don't need to have anything beyond the next episode prepped at a time, but of course having a rough plan can help.

Of course a lot of this is very opinionated and game specific: some games actively resist authoritative GM prep and want to involve each player equally in setting up the situation, and that's actually great, and in those types of games you should remember that the game is explicitly telling everyone to be involved in the prep. And once again, listen to what the rules have to say: they're there to tell you what the game wants you to do.

[ilovecatfr]

Learning how to be more familiar with shifting

and how and why do people constantly shift on accident while people who go up and beyond are usually not as successful?

I seen posts from people frustrated or even ready to give up on shifting. They’ve tried every method, affirmation, or technique, yet nothing seems to work. At the same time, they see others sharing stories about shifting on accident, and it makes them wonder “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I shift when I’m putting in so much effort?”

First of all, there’s nothing wrong with you. Shifting is a deeply personal experience, and everyone’s journey is different.

SO WHY DO PEOPLE SHIFT ON ACCIDENT?

(my opinion)

Most people who shift accidentally are able to let go naturally, without even realizing it. Letting go, in simple terms, means completely forgetting about the act of shifting itself.

Think about it this way: when you’re doing a method or affirming, you’re reminding yourself that you’re still in your CR. Even if you’re saying, “I’m shifting,” you’re acknowledging that there’s a process happening and that you’re waiting for the shift to occur. This creates a sense of separation between you and your DR. It’s like saying, “I’m almost there,” rather than, “I’m already there.”

What often happens with people who shift on accident, they immerse themselves in their DR, they stop perceiving a “process” of shifting—they just exist in that reality.

HOW TO BECOME MORE NATURAL WITH LETTING SHIFTING GO?

First thing we need to learn even tho this is really common evidence:

Methods are tools, not rules.

Trust Yourself: The more you believe you can shift, the less you’ll feel the need to control every part of the process.

What immersing yourself in your DR is?

Anything you want, no limits. Scenarios, going through a day in your DR, thinking about your s/o, thinking about your studies, your job, making outfits, thinking about dates with your s/o, hang outs with your friend group, texting, praising people in your DR, doing your make up in your DR.

Of course you can just think about your DR if you are not good with imagination.

The biggest takeaway here is that shifting isn’t about trying—it’s about being. When you let go of the idea of shifting as something you have to “achieve” and simply allow yourself to exist in your DR.

So don’t be discouraged if you’re struggling. Take a step back, relax, and allow yourself to enjoy the journey without putting so much pressure on yourself. You’re closer than you think.

[itsrlymine]

know that what you decide is what reflects and revision is no exception.

You are only ever experiencing yourself. That’s why myself and others say you manifest who you are. Your decisions decide what you see. Who you claim to be matters more than the all different methods or techniques you could begin to apply. Who you are when you use the technique is what matters. Because you are the technique. 

You “manifest” everything in your reality the exact same way. By deciding it’s yours now and knowing your truth. Speaking against that creates the illusion of separation, which is also just another extension of you. 

Decide it’s yours and it’s yours. If the 3d shows you otherwise, no it didn’t. It actually showed you exactly what you wanted to see. Don't second guess.

This literally how I manifested some cute velour sets the other day when I was at the mall. I saw these cute Juicy bottoms but no top attached. The tag on the pants literally said “No Attached Top Available.” Oh no but the 3d!!! I reread the tag and asked myself what I would think if I had the top. “Probably something like ‘I have the full set’… Oh shit… I HAVE THE FULL SET!!” As I looked through the racks, I stopped myself from thinking that I’m looking for something and reminded myself that I’m just remembering where I found the pieces. I “found” the set two seconds later… There were three sets of what I wanted in my exact size. 

What you decide is what reflects. 

“Oh but my parents are strict and they won’t let me…” Umm? No they aren’t. They fully support everything you want to do and always have. Don't second guess.

“I want to become the most amazing director in the world and I want everyone to love my work but I’m so young and I don’t have the experience to—“ Can you shut up please??? I literally just saw you walk across the stage at the Golden Globes and accept an award for your work and you still want complain?? Don't second guess.

It doesn’t matter if you have a celebrity sp and you just watched an interview where they claimed to be single or you saw paparazzi pictures of them on a date with someone else in Hollywood. Even if they were kissing. You know why?? Because you assign the meaning to whatever you see. Whether you saw nothing at all or oh?! Your sp is an actor now and they forgot to tell you but that was actually a pic for an upcoming movie?? Cool. At least you were there with them at the premiere. That's how revision works. Revision. Re-playing what you actually saw or heard.

There is no dream too big and no situation that can’t be “reversed.” It’s not even revision because the only thing that actually “occurred” was you still getting what you want.

What you decide is what reflects. 

Nothing else. Remember things for what they actually are, not some false story being “told” by your past. The past that has no say in you getting what you want. The past that’s only real based on your cue. 

The world is literally moving in your favor. At least that’s what I remember. 

[jose996c]

Flicker of Recognition

Summery: Twenty years into the apocalypse, Joel Miller thought his soulmate was lost to the world. But a chance encounter changes everything, leading to an unexpected bond, hard-earned trust, and the hope of a life beyond survival.

Warnings: Soulmate au, apocalypse, fluff, infected, violence (gun), age-gap (reader is in her 30's), romance.

Paring: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 4.4k

2023

The wind howled outside the crumbling house, whistling through broken windowpanes and cracks in the boarded-up walls. Rain tapped steadily against the glass like fingers drumming to be let in. Upstairs, in what used to be someone’s bedroom, Joel sat on the floor with his back against a sagging dresser, methodically cleaning his revolver by the light of a flickering lantern.

Across the room, Ellie lay curled in a dusty sleeping bag, thumbing through a battered comic book with pages softened from use. The silence between them was comfortable, familiar now — until Ellie broke it.

“You ever think about soulmates?”

Joel didn’t look up. “No.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, clearly expecting the answer. “C’mon. Everyone’s got one, don’t they? You’ve seen the marks. Can’t just be a coincidence.”

Joel kept working, slow and steady. The oil made his hands slick, but he didn’t mind the routine. It kept him grounded.

“Even now,” she went on, “twenty years after everything went to shit, people are still getting ‘em. I heard someone in a QZ say theirs showed up last year. Like... like the universe still cares.”

Joel’s jaw tensed. He set the revolver down with a soft clink, finally meeting her gaze.

“You had one, didn’t you?” she asked, softer now.

“I did.”

Ellie sat up a little. “What happened?”

“She didn’t make it.” His voice was even, but the words hung heavy in the air. “First day of the outbreak.”

“Oh.” Her voice was small. “I’m sorry.”

Joel gave a stiff nod. “Long time ago.”

They sat in silence after that. The fire’s glow flickered on the peeling wallpaper, dancing shadows across the walls. Ellie eventually lay back down, eyes lingering on Joel a moment longer before she returned to her comic.

Joel picked up his revolver again, but his hands didn’t move. He just stared at it, fingers curling around the grip like it was something fragile.

In the quiet of the room, with only rain and memory for company, he thought of the mark on his skin — the one that never faded, no matter how much time passed. A cruel little reminder etched into him like a promise the world had broken.

She’s gone, he told himself. Even if she’s not, it’s too late now. Ain’t room for hope in a world like this.

Still, something deep inside him stirred — a flicker of warmth, too faint to name and too stubborn to die.

The town was one of those nameless places you could drive through in five minutes back when the world still worked. Now it sat hollowed out, its main street buried under overgrowth and broken glass. Joel led the way with quiet caution, rifle tight in his grip, boots silent on the cracked pavement. Ellie followed just behind, eyes flicking from shadow to shadow.

“This place gives me the creeps,” she muttered. “Like everyone left all at once.”

Joel didn’t answer. He’d felt it too — the odd stillness, the lingering trace of people long gone.

But as they passed a narrow alley, something tugged at his gut. A house at the far end caught his eye. There was nothing particularly strange about it — two stories, faded paint, porch half-collapsed — but something about it made the air feel heavier.

He paused.

“You alright?” Ellie asked, craning her neck to see what he was staring at.

“Yeah,” he said, but it wasn’t convincing. His fingers twitched at his side, just above where his soulmate mark hid beneath layers of worn fabric. It hadn’t bothered him in years. Not since he’d stopped checking it. Not since he’d given up.

Still, the feeling sat there — not pain, not warmth, just a quiet ache. Something… familiar.

Joel shook it off. “Come on. Let’s clear that house.”

They approached carefully. The door was slightly open, the frame sagging. Joel nudged it wider with the barrel of his rifle and stepped inside, sweeping the entryway with practiced ease. The place smelled faintly of smoke and stale food. Blankets were spread out in the living room — fresh, not rotted. A can of beans, half-eaten, sat on the floor beside a small pack. Someone had been here recently.

He held up a hand to signal Ellie to stay close.

Then—

Bang.

The shot rang out like a thunderclap.

Joel ducked and rolled behind the couch just as the bullet splintered the wood beside him. Ellie screamed, dropping flat. The shooter cursed — a woman’s voice — followed by the unmistakable click of a jammed weapon.

“Shit!”

A second later, a figure burst from the hallway — fast, silent, and deadly. She launched herself at Joel before he could react, tackling him back against the ground. He caught the flash of her eyes, wild and terrified. Her hands scrabbled for the gun at his hip, but he was quicker. He flipped her, pinning her down, his own weapon pressed to her temple.

“Don’t move,” he growled.

Her chest heaved beneath him. But she didn’t fight. Didn’t beg. Just froze.

Joel didn’t pull the trigger.

Something stopped him — a flicker deep under his skin, crawling up his spine, settling somewhere just behind his ribs.

Heat bloomed beneath his sleeve. A strange, slow pulse beat in his arm, not painful, just... there. The kind of sensation you couldn’t ignore even if you wanted to. Familiar in a way that made no sense.

He looked at her. Really looked.

And then everything stilled.

The breath left his lungs in a slow, quiet exhale. The world, for half a second, fell away — the broken walls, the storm outside, the sound of Ellie’s frantic movements — all of it gone.

She stared up at him, eyes wide, lips parted like she was on the edge of remembering something too old, too deep, to put into words.

A spark passed between them — something wordless, undeniable.

Recognition.

Not of her face. Not her voice.

Of something else.

Something older than either of them.

Joel’s grip loosened, just slightly. His hand stayed on the gun, but he didn’t press it tighter. He couldn’t. Not when every cell in his body was suddenly pulling toward the woman beneath him.

A breath caught in her throat. Her eyes flicked down — not to the gun, but to the spot on his arm where her own mark must’ve started to burn, too.

Neither of them moved.

But they knew.

And then the sound hit them: the distant scream of the infected.

A horde. Close. Getting closer.

Joel snapped into motion. He grabbed the woman’s hand and yanked her up, already shouting, “Ellie!”

“I’m here!” Ellie called from behind the kitchen counter, crouched low.

The woman pulled away from Joel’s grip, sprinted past him to Ellie, and hauled the girl toward the stairs.

“There’s a cellar door out back!” she shouted. “This way!”

Joel fired at the front window, taking down a runner that smashed through the glass. More were coming. Too many.

He backed toward the rear exit, bullets flying, but they were swarming the front now — fast and screeching, jaws snapping.

By the time his clip emptied, the woman was shouting again.

“In here!”

She was holding open the narrow door to a shed in the overgrown backyard. Joel sprinted across the grass, shoved the door shut behind him, and slammed the bolt into place just as fists began pounding on the outside.

Then — silence.

The pounding of their hearts. Their breathing. Nothing else.

They stood there in the dark, just shadows in the flicker of Joel’s dying flashlight. Rain pelted the tin roof above them.

And the mark on Joel’s arm still burned.

It was pitch black, save for the thin beam of Joel’s flashlight trembling in his grip. Rain pelted the tin roof in a steady rhythm, a wild contrast to the stillness that had fallen between them.

Ellie was hunched in the corner, wide-eyed and panting. She didn’t speak — maybe sensing that whatever just happened between the two adults had nothing to do with her. Or maybe she was just too winded to ask questions.

Joel didn’t look at her.

He couldn’t look at anything except her.

The woman he’d just fought, disarmed, nearly killed — had touched something ancient in him that hadn’t stirred in decades. She stood against the opposite wall, barely a few feet away, one hand braced on the rough wood like she was steadying herself against gravity.

Her eyes met his.

Neither of them said a word.

Joel felt it again — the hum beneath his skin, a pull in his chest like his body had realigned itself without asking permission. The mark on his arm was quiet now, but it buzzed faintly, like a distant signal trying to come back into range.

She reached up, slowly, and touched her own arm — the spot where her mark must’ve been burning just like his. She didn’t look at it. She didn’t need to.

Her gaze never left his.

And Joel — a man who’d spent the last twenty years learning how to bury things so deep they couldn’t claw their way out — felt something raw begin to surface.

Not joy. Not yet.

Just recognition.

The kind that made his chest tighten and his throat ache. The kind that felt like standing at the edge of a cliff you thought had collapsed years ago, only to find the ground still there.

Her lips parted slightly. Not to speak. Just… breathing. Still trying to catch up.

So was he.

Neither moved. Neither blinked.

The only sound was the rain.

Then Ellie coughed — sharp and awkward — and both of them flinched like the spell had been broken.

Joel turned his flashlight toward her, casting their shadows across the warped walls. The silence was back, but it felt heavier now. Different.

No one spoke for a long time.

Eventually, Ellie sank down against the wall, pulling her knees to her chest. She looked between them, brows furrowed, but said nothing. Maybe she didn’t understand. Maybe she understood too much.

Joel stayed standing, arms heavy at his sides. The woman did the same, shoulders still tense, like her body hadn’t caught up with what her soul already knew.

He wanted to say something. Ask her name. Ask if this was real. Ask if she felt it too — if this meant something anymore, in a world where so much had already been lost.

But the words didn’t come.

So instead, he looked at her the way he hadn’t let himself look at anyone in years.

Like maybe — just maybe — there was still something left to hope for.

The rain had softened to a drizzle by the time the pounding on the shed stopped. The infected were gone — for now. But the silence left in their wake wasn’t peaceful. It hung too heavy, like the kind that only followed something life-altering.

Ellie had dozed off in the corner, arms wrapped around her backpack like a shield. Her breathing had slowed. Even in sleep, she looked wary.

Joel stayed seated on a broken crate near the far wall, elbows on his knees, head low. His fingers toyed with the edge of his sleeve, thumb brushing over the spot where the mark was still pulsing faintly beneath his skin.

He glanced up at her again.

She stood by the door now, arms crossed tightly over her chest, like she needed to hold herself together. Her clothes were damp from the sprint. Mud streaked her jeans. A strand of hair stuck to her cheek.

She hadn’t looked away from him in minutes.

Joel rose slowly, careful not to wake Ellie.

He didn’t speak — he didn’t trust his voice to come out steady — and neither did she. It was like they were still afraid that if they acknowledged it, said it aloud, it might all fall apart.

He stepped closer.

She didn’t back away.

In another life, maybe he would’ve smiled. Teased. Said something charming and low like “Took you long enough.” But there was no room for that here. No time for games. Not when everything in his chest felt cracked wide open just from standing this close to her.

She looked up at him, eyes searching his face like she was trying to memorize it.

He reached out, tentative at first, and gently tucked that damp strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath caught. She tilted her head slightly — not pulling away, not moving closer either. Just waiting.

Joel’s hand lingered against her cheek, rough fingers brushing over soft skin. She closed her eyes for a moment — just a second — and in that second, something passed between them again. That silent promise. That recognition that no words could explain.

He leaned in, just enough for her to feel the warmth of him.

Her lips parted — not in surprise, but in surrender.

Their foreheads brushed, and his other hand ghosted up her arm, steady and slow. She didn’t move away.

They were close now — breath to breath, heart to heart — and he swore he could feel her heartbeat syncing with his.

Then—

“Uh—hey.”

Joel flinched back just as Ellie’s voice cut through the thick air like a blade.

She stood in the doorway, blinking the sleep from her eyes. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “but I think we should probably get moving. Don’t wanna stick around if those things come back.”

Joel stepped back immediately, clearing his throat, avoiding the woman’s eyes as he muttered, “Yeah. Right. Let’s go.”

She didn’t say anything either — just nodded once, that same dazed expression still lingering on her face as she brushed past him and followed Ellie out into the wet grass.

Joel stayed behind a moment longer.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaled hard, and looked back at the door she’d just walked through.

He’d spent twenty years thinking that mark on his arm would never mean anything.

Now?

He wasn’t sure if that terrified him more than the infected.

The forest had swallowed the road hours ago.

What was once cracked asphalt had long since given way to a narrow trail swallowed in vines and damp leaves. The rain had stopped, but the air was heavy, humid with the promise of more. Tree branches creaked above them, the wind threading through like whispers they couldn't quite understand.

Joel led the way, as always, eyes sweeping the woods, shoulders stiff. Ellie walked just behind him, dragging a stick along the dirt. The woman — her — brought up the rear, silent save for the occasional crunch of twigs beneath her boots.

No one spoke much.

Joel had tried once, earlier that morning, to ask if she had a name. The words had caught in his throat, and when she glanced at him over the firelight with that same look — soft and unsure and far too knowing — he dropped it.

Now, in the shifting green of the woods, he caught her in the corner of his vision sometimes. Just a flicker. Just enough to make his pulse jump.

He kept walking.

Ellie broke the silence first.

“So… do you two know each other or something?”

Joel didn’t turn around. “No.”

She glanced back. “Really? 'Cause you were gonna kiss her in that shed like, a lot.”

Joel let out a long breath through his nose. “Ellie…”

“I’m just saying.” Her grin was practically audible.

The woman said nothing, but Joel heard her laugh — soft, under her breath. Almost like she didn’t mean to let it slip. It was the first sound she’d made all day.

Joel’s heart did something uncomfortable in his chest.

They reached the edge of a field not long after, where the trees thinned out into golden grass and low ruins of what must’ve once been a farmhouse. The sun was just starting to dip behind the tree line.

He stopped and scanned the horizon. “We’ll set up camp ahead. Get off the trail a bit.”

Ellie groaned but didn’t argue. She kept walking, boots kicking up dust, until she disappeared behind a cluster of overgrown fence posts.

Joel lingered.

The woman came up beside him slowly, adjusting the strap of her pack.

He didn’t look at her.

But he didn’t move away, either.

For a few moments, they stood there, quiet — not in silence like before, but something softer. Like maybe the worst of it had already passed. Like maybe they were both still trying to make sense of it all.

He turned, just barely, and finally looked at her.

She looked tired. Guarded. But her eyes didn’t hold the same kind of sharpness as they had back in that house. It had shifted into something else now.

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

She gave a faint smile, like she understood what he wanted to say and was choosing — just for now — not to make him say it.

Joel nodded.

They walked after Ellie, a little closer than before.

The fire crackled low in the pit — a modest flame, more ember than blaze. Joel had kept it that way on purpose. Too much light drew eyes.

Ellie was curled up on the far side of the fire, using her backpack as a pillow. Her breathing had gone slow, steady. Asleep. Again. The girl could crash anywhere.

Joel sat with his back to a log, elbows on his knees, watching the fire chew through the last of the kindling. His rifle lay within arm’s reach. Old habit. Necessary habit.

She was across from him.

Again.

The woman — his… soulmate, he guessed — hadn’t spoken much since they'd made camp. She’d helped gather wood. Helped cook. Laughed once when Ellie told a story about a “super infected” that turned out to be a deer she’d startled. But mostly… quiet.

Joel glanced at her now, across the glow of the coals.

She was watching the fire, arms tucked around her legs, chin resting on one knee. Tired, but not in a physical way. The kind of tired that settled into your bones and stayed there.

He cleared his throat. “You doin’ alright?”

She looked up, surprised he’d broken the silence. Then gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

Joel didn’t push for more. He just watched her. In the dark like this, with the light flickering across her face, it was harder to keep the distance he'd been forcing all day. Harder to pretend that this — whatever was happening between them — wasn’t real.

He shifted, voice quieter. “Back there… in the house. That mark. You felt it too, didn’t you?”

She didn’t speak. But she didn’t look away either.

That was answer enough.

Joel let out a slow breath and looked back into the fire. “I stopped hopin’ a long time ago,” he admitted, the words like gravel in his throat. “Figured… she died. Whoever she was. World’s gone to hell. Didn’t think I’d ever know.”

She didn’t respond with words. Just moved — slowly — to sit beside him, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed.

Joel’s heart picked up. He didn’t pull away.

Her presence wasn’t loud. Wasn’t demanding. It just was. Solid. Familiar in a way he didn’t understand but couldn’t question.

They sat like that for a while, shoulder to shoulder, not talking.

Then — maybe without meaning to — she leaned in a little, her head lightly brushing his shoulder. Joel froze, but didn’t move. After a second, he relaxed into it. Let it happen.

The fire popped softly.

And in that moment, Joel turned his head — just a little — enough to look at her.

She tilted her face up toward him.

Their eyes met. Neither of them smiled.

There was something too heavy, too old, about the feeling between them. Like grief and relief tangled together, impossible to pull apart.

Joel lifted his hand slowly, gently cupping her jaw, thumb brushing the edge of her cheekbone. Her breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut for half a second before opening again — like she needed to make sure this was real.

He leaned in, slowly — slow enough to give her time to pull away.

She didn’t.

Their lips met — tentative at first, like they were afraid of breaking something fragile. Her hand came up, fingers resting lightly over the front of his shirt, anchoring herself there. His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her in closer.

The kiss deepened — not hurried, not desperate.

Just real.

Soft.

Grounding.

Like two people who had been starving for something they couldn’t name, and had finally, finally found it.

When they pulled apart, it wasn’t abrupt. It was slow — lips brushing, foreheads leaning together, both of them breathing a little heavier, a little steadier.

Joel kept his hand at her neck, thumb stroking gently over her skin.

“I guess this means it’s real,” he whispered.

She didn’t answer, but her eyes were soft when she looked at him again. And she kissed him one more time — smaller, briefer. Just because she could.

They sat like that for a while.

The fire popped softly beside them, and the night stretched quiet around their little circle of warmth. Neither of them knew what tomorrow would look like.

But for tonight, at least — they weren’t alone anymore.

2026

Snow blanketed the streets of Jackson, soft and slow, the kind that hushed the world and made everything feel still. Smoke drifted from chimneys. The clatter of boots on wooden porches echoed gently through the town. A dog barked once, then quieted.

Joel leaned against the wooden railing outside their porch, mug of coffee steaming between his hands. He watched a pair of kids run past on the street below, bundled in layers too big for them, shrieking as they tossed clumps of snow back and forth.

He didn’t smile, not really — but the tension in his shoulders had gone somewhere in the past few months, and it hadn’t come back.

Behind him, the door creaked open. He didn’t turn.

“I told you it’s too cold for that porch,” came her voice, a little hoarse from sleep.

Joel glanced sideways as she stepped up beside him, blanket draped over her shoulders, hands tucked around her own mug. Her hair was mussed, cheeks pink from the warmth of the house behind them. She looked at him like someone who’d done this exact morning a hundred times before — and wanted a hundred more.

“It’s not that cold,” he said, sipping his coffee.

She arched an eyebrow. “You’ve been out here twenty minutes.”

He didn’t argue. Just glanced at her again, slower this time. “Didn’t wanna wake you.”

“You never do,” she murmured, voice softer now.

The silence settled comfortably between them. No pressure. No need to fill it.

It was strange, Joel thought, how easily this had become normal — she had become normal. The shared house. The shared mornings. The way he could reach out and touch her hand and not flinch from it. The way her presence didn’t set him on edge but settled something deep inside him.

This wasn’t the firelight, adrenaline-heavy intimacy from a year ago. This was steadier. Quieter. Something earned.

He looked back at the street.

“We’re patrolling east tomorrow,” he said after a minute. “Up past the sawmill.”

She nodded. “I’ll pack tonight.”

There was a pause, then she bumped her shoulder gently into his. “You and me?”

He nodded. “You and me.”

Her hand slipped into his then, ungloved and cold, but he didn’t let go. Just held it there, rough calluses and all, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And for them now—it was.

The woods stretched out quiet beneath a gray sky, branches heavy with melting snow. Patches of brown earth peeked through where the sun had gotten bold enough to push through the clouds.

Joel moved ahead, boots crunching softly in the underbrush, rifle slung across his back. She followed close behind, eyes scanning the tree line, her own weapon resting easy in her grip. They didn’t talk much — didn’t need to.

They had the kind of rhythm you can’t fake. One glance, one shift of weight, and they knew what the other was thinking.

It was the kind of patrol Tommy liked to send them on — mid-range, low risk, just a sweep past the outer farms and along the ridge above the river. Still, the silence of the woods never fully lost its edge. You could go months without seeing a Runner, and then suddenly you’d be surrounded.

Joel stopped at a bend in the trail, holding up a hand. She stilled instantly, scanning the bush. A distant rustle. A bird, maybe — or not.

Joel moved slow, crouching by a fallen log. He brushed aside a bit of snow and dirt, revealing a smeared boot print, half-frozen, deep.

Not one of theirs.

He looked up. She was already beside him, crouched low.

“Recent?” she asked quietly.

“Could be,” Joel muttered. “Too heavy for Ellie. Might be one of the new kids… or someone passing through.”

She frowned. “Could be worse.”

They both knew what worse meant.

Joel stood slowly, eyes on the treeline. The woods stayed still.

“You take the left,” he said. “I’ll swing wide, loop back.”

She nodded. “Don’t get distracted.”

He gave her a look, deadpan. “Only thing distractin’ me out here is you.”

Her smile was quick, crooked. She nudged him once before disappearing into the brush like she’d done it a hundred times before — because she had.

The patrol went quiet again after that. They circled wide, careful, methodical. No fresh signs of infected, no sound beyond the wind and the distant call of crows. Eventually, they met again near the stream, the water running shallow and dark between the rocks.

She knelt, splashing a bit of the cold water over her face, pushing her hair back.

“Clear,” she said.

Joel nodded, but his eyes stayed on her for a second too long.

She noticed. “What?”

“Nothin’.”

“You always stare at me like that when there’s nothing?”

Joel stepped closer, letting his rifle rest against his shoulder. “Just thinkin’. A year ago, I didn’t think I’d ever have this again. Peace. A partner... Someone who’s got my back, and who I can trust with mine.”

She stood, brushing snow from her knees. “You do now.”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at her, steady and warm in the cold.

She leaned in, brushing her lips against his cheek — barely there. Just enough.

He caught her hand before she pulled away.

“Let’s get home,” he said softly.

And together, they turned back toward the path.

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

[fictionalsweethearts]

A CHILD FOR ZAUN | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

Synopsis: Under pressure from the Council and with a heavy responsibility on her shoulders, Sevika decides to have a child with her wife to show her commitment with the cause. However, indirect methods are too risky and she ends up choosing the traditional way, being an equal part spectator and participant.

Contains: mention of pregnancy, threesome, male participation, voyeurism, breeding kink, wife!Sevika, dirty talking, jealousy (I could keep going).

MINORS DNI

Note: Alright, so this is some kinky ass shit, I admit, so if you're not into male participation you can enjoy my other works on my masterlist. If you're staying... enjoy.

“A child?” Sevika asked, her eyebrows knitting together at Shoola’s sudden proposition. The councilor had waited until the session had adjourned and the rest of the councilors had left to discuss this with Sevika.

The work at the council seemed endless; since the war with Noxus and all the havoc it caused—from half of Piltover in ruins, to hundreds of casualties, widowed wives an husbands, orphaned children, and protests and riots on the bridge due to Zaun’s refusal to actively collaborate with the other side of the bridge—Sevika had barely had time to make amends and command a plan of action to favor Zaun in this whole mess. She was chosen by her people to represent a city whose fate hung in the balance. There were internal disputes, the districts seemed to want to take sides in the war and attack Piltover now that it has weakened, but Sevika knew that this would cost her authority and the promise to finally include Zaun in the Council's plans and stop being marginalized from public discussion. There were sessions and sessions of disputes and long speeches, where Sevika was ignored or the problems she brought up were disregarded by the rest of the members; by everyone of course, except for Shoola and Caitlyn. Both knew the importance of including Zaun, of making its needs known, even if in the past Sevika had been the enemy, or vice versa.

"A child," Shoola insisted, professional as ever. "You're in a difficult position, you don't yet have the trust nor approval of the rest of the Council. They don't know who they're dealing with."

"How a child would make them see me differently?" Inquired Sevika, both hands on the table before her.

"You must understand that you are rare case by being on the Council and being a Zaunite," Shoola explained. "In the eyes of the others, you are still a threat. The others do not trust you to have a say in matters on this side of the bridge, because they do not know what you are putting at stake."

Sevika clenched her jaw. She was a Zaunite at Piltover's council table, a fish out of water in a world of politics and alliances.

"My loyalty lies with my city, not this side of the bridge."

"Your loyalty will bear no fruit if you are not listened to. You must prove that you are not a mere visitor, Sevika. Committing to the cause means having something to risk."

"And what do you suggest, Shoola? A Zaunite child to hold as a bargaining chip? A token that ensures our cooperation?"

"Not a token, but a proof. A proof that you're not just advocating for your own interests..." she said, her tone growing more serious. "But for those of someone you care about, and the Council can see that you do so."

"Isn't the whole city of Zaun proof enough?" She inquired.

"It's about making yourself seen, Sevika," Shoola insisted. "The rest of the Councillors have entire nations behind them; children, parents, countrymen, enemies and allies. Yet you show up here without the full backing of your people, only a small portion who are not related to you in any way other than mere conviction and ideology."

Sevika looked away, Shoola's speech seemwd to acquire more sense with every word. "Besides... a child of your own will keep you grounded, it's a reminder of why you're here and what you're fighting for." She added.

Sevika knew Shoola had a point, no matter how much she hated to admit it. She was a lone wolf in a pack of powerful families and nations, at a disadvantage before an entire lineage of renowned nobles and politicians.

"I understand the need for solidarity," she said through gritted teeth. "But a child isn't a toy to be used for political gain. I won't endanger a child just to prove a point."

Shoola's expression softened, she interlaced her fingers. "It's a necessary decision, Sevika; causes require sacrifices," she said. "There are children waiting for a change there, using one could help dozens, hundreds. You can't keep arguing with a wall."

Sevika stood there in tense silence for a long moment after Shoola left. The room felt more empty than ever. Her mind raced with the idea of being responsible for a child, of being held accountable for their well-being. With a frustrated growl, she slammed her fist down hard onto the table, the sound of her prosthetic arm hitting the wooden top echoed in the room.

"How long am I gonna fight against this?"

┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈

"Margot won't allow it." Mumbled Sevika under her breath, letting out a heavy sigh.

Sevika took another drink, stamping the glass on the desk before looking back at the map hanging on the wall. She had been in a resounding silence for twenty minutes, interrupted by her own murmurs and growls. The plan to reduce the coverage of the red light district to favor the construction of hospitals seemed more like a fantasy than a plan, taking into account the powerful influence that brothels and sexual services had in Zaun. Sevika knew that truncating that specific area would be liquidating much of the city's income; she herself, when she used to be a regular customer, could realize how essential the business was.

Suddenly, a couple of arms wrapped around her chest, the softness of your cheek against her back and your smell interrupting Sevika's thoughts.

"You're going to pierce the map if you stare at it for so long, wifey." You purred.

Unconsciously, Sevika's shoulders relaxed as she heard your voice behind her. "It's called strategizing." she said with a half smile.

"What's the deal this time?" You inquired, peeking from your wife's wide back to take a look of the map too.

Sevika's grip on the edge of the desk tightened as her gaze traveled over the map pinned to the wall. She seemed to be studying the layout, her mind working through the challenges and options.

"The Rapturewalk," she replied. "It's becoming problematic. Profits are up, but the city needs hospitals, not more entertainment venues."

"Margot won't allow it." You said, just like Sevika thought before.

She sighed loudly. "I know. But the needs of Zaun are not being met. We're prioritizing profit over basic necessities. People are suffering while Margot makes money."

You ran your hands over her shoulders, your eyes sharpening at the markings on the map before you. "Keeping Rapturewalk is your best card, actually."

"How so?"

"It's a constant and safe source of income, after Shimmer's factories." You argued, crossing your arms as you looked at the map. "Let's say that whores are the economic basis of Zaun, whether you like it or not. And the best way to generate reserves to allocate them to other projects is to take advantage of the profits of the red light district."

It was not the first time you had helped Sevika to unravel a problem of this nature. She used to pay attention to your judgment as much as the councilmen's and she trusted your vision as much as her own.

Between pouts, jokes and a kiss on her cheek, you proposed possible solutions. Sevika responded with a grunt, dragging on her cigarette before looking at the map again. "I've only been on the Council for three months… and I'm going crazy already."

"Take the mining and taxes thing as advice only," you said. "I'm just the wife, the final decision is up to you."

"Don't say that." she said firmly, walking up to you and gently grasping your arm. "You're my partner, in every sense of the word." she stated, placing a kiss on your forehead.

And the truth is that your role in Sevika's life was not limited to just being a wife. From the beginning you were a pillar for her when she didn't believe in pillars or in the need to seek support from other people, you showed her that asking for help was not a sign of weakness but of strength, although to this day it was still a bad habit of hers to swallow her problems until she vomited them out between complaints and a few days of drunkenness. That night was no exception, and as soon as you moved away from her, you noticed her staring at your abdomen longer than usual.

"Is something wrong?" you asked.

"No, nothing's wrong." she grunted, knowing she was lying.

"You sure?"

Sevika remained silent for a moment, her tone sobering. "How does children sound to you?"

You seemed speechless for a moment.

You raised your eyebrows and a flash of excitement crossed your face before you turned serious. “Sounds like something we never considered possible…”

"I know we've never discussed it. But the thought has crossed my mind a few times... I never thought it would be an option, given our circumstances. But then again, I never thought we could have a life together in a room above a poker den either."

"I, uh..." you stuttered. "It's a sort of fantasy of mine, actually." you admitted. "You always said you weren't interested in children, and I respect it."

"Well, things has changed, haven't they?" Sevika took a step closer. "We've changed."

But something wasn't fitting, and you sensed it. "Sev. Why are you suggesting this all of sudden?"

She took a deep breath, her hand dropping back to her side.

"The Council has been... making suggestions," she said. "They think it would be a... symbolic gesture. A way to bridge the gap between Zaun and Piltover."

And all clicked.

"So you want a heir, not a son." you stated.

"No, I want what's best for Zaun. And if having a child serves a greater purpose, then that's what I must do."

"A child for a purpose? A symbol." you spat, crossing your arms as the anger began blooming. "Are you trying to please those snobs? Who made you think a heir would change their vision towards you, or towards Zaun?"

"It's about making them respect us. Showing them that Zaun can play the game they set and still come out on top. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good."

"Haven't you done enough sacrifices?" you insisted. "Following Vander, then Silco's cause, then Jinx. You've sacrificed what you are every damn time and they still believe it's not enough?"

"What choice do I have?" she snapped back. "If I don't show them, if I don't do something significant, they'll continue to disregard Zaun."

"And using a child is the proper way to earn approval?"

"Babe, it's about respect!" she snapped at you, followed by a sigh when she noticed you flinched.

Silence, thick as fog, settled in the room. Sevika looked not only exhausted, but hopeless. She was making drastic decisions and she knew it. "Love… I don't expect your approval in this, just your support."

You reached out, cupping her cheek as she looked into your eyes, speaking with them. You couldn't stand against that look, you never could. "I'll think about it." you whispered. "But I want you to understand that if we have a child, I will treat him as a son first and as a political tool second."

"I understand." she nodded. "I swear I do."

As the days went by, while the Council gave no respite and neither did Zaun, Sevika planted the seed of a child in your mind frequently. She would talk to you about adoption processes when you were cooking, accompanied by a well-placed caress on your back and a kiss on your neck, and then, after making love, she would talk to you about the possibilities of testing fertilization in a laboratory. Usually you limited yourself to nodding or emitting an "mhm", still questioning the changes that a child would mean, not only as a political symbol, but as an addition to the family.

Sevika would be a good mother, no doubt. She took care of Isha for a whole month without even mentioning she cared for her, but she still came to Jinx's lair with treats and toys or gadgets that she bought at the market. She asked you to cook an extra portion for dinner and whenever you asked her why, it was because "she got hungrier lately", knowing well that it was for Isha. And when she finally admitted her affection towards the blue-haired girl, she passed away.

Sevika remained strong for Jinx and for herself, but you found her asleep in the bathtub the day she found out, her eyes swollen and stinking to whiskey.

"I loved that kid," she admitted later, once you were able to get her out of the tub. "Why is everything dying around me, babe?"

That day you promised yourself to be Sevika's anchor, and bring more joy than worries to her life.

“Baby?” you whispered after Sevika turned around. “Do you think we could visit that doctor you mentioned the other day?”

"Dr. Allard? Yeah, we can. Why?"

"We could ask for advice... about the fertilization process."

Sevika rolled over, her eyes pierced into yours. "Do you wanna... try?"

"Yes, I-" you said before Sevika swallowed your words with a kiss.

And she kissed you later that day, as you two waited for the test results. Fertilization using hextech was still in the experimental phase and was certainly based more on theories than successful cases, but you still hoped you were a suitable candidate for the procedure. Sevika held your hand as the doctor entered, her solemn face not indicating good news.

"The preliminary tests show that your body's response to the hextech fertilization process is not as strong as we would have expected. The success rates will be much lower than we had originally suggested..."

It was the formal way of announcing that achieving a baby by that means was not feasible. And Sevika read your disappointed expression while the woman continued explaining technical details that you stopped listening to. Your wife squeezed your hand and wiped the hint of a tear from your eye. "We'll find a way."

And frustration was beginning to overwhelm you and Sevika. You drank at breakfast and dinner, ruminating on the possibilities and pressuring the Zaun orphanage just to find out there wasn't a goddamn orphanage in the first place. A month of arguments, tears and breakdowns went by. The Council gave no respite, Sevika was on the verge of collapse balanced by two cities that refused to cooperate, drowning her anguish in whiskey and smoking her worries, sleeping barely a few hours and giving up her intimacy and quality time with you. You watched Sevika fall into a cycle of slavering work from which you could not get her out until you found her unconscious in the living room, passed out from exhaustion and alcohol.

And that was the last straw.

"I'll look for candidates," you said in bed, after having fed Sevika a substantial dinner and a spoonful of Shimmer. "You can choose the one you like the most."

"And if I say no?" she dared to argue.

"Then you'll quit the Council."

She was silent for a moment, too weak to argue and too tired to find another solution. She couldn't believe she would consent this.

"Fine," she said grudgingly. "You can look."

It took you no more than a week, spreading out a series of files on the living room table and asking Sevika to study each one carefully. The process took barely an hour.

"This one," she said finally, laying the sheet on the table. "It's the most suitable.

You kind of expected it, Misk. A thirty-three-year-old Zaunite in impeccable health; a rarity in a city like ours. He was an athletic man who was both handsome and noble. He was known to run a humanitarian business, providing beds, food, education, and health. A true symbol of the spark of humanity struggling to survive in the city and an indirect ally of Sevika, if she could put it that way. The file was accompanied by a photo of the man in question. He had tanned skin, pale, slanted eyes, a straight nose, and generous lips. His black hair, usually tied back in a half ponytail, was dazzling with silvery glints and vitiligo had paled half of his face, spreading across his left arm and left pectoral. You knew Sevika had chosen him for his unusual features, she had a thing for Zaun's genetic diversity.

"Did you find him handsome?" you dared to tease her.

"Qualified." grunted Sevika. "I could never call a man handsome."

┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈

"I won't repeat myself," Sevika said firmly. "We bought your silence, you keep your mouth shut. Whatever happens in this room, stays in this room."

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, an olive-colored robe as your only garment, your hair loose and your skin soft and smooth from the scented bath you took earlier. The room smelled of floral, penetrating honey, while the lights were dim and invited to retreat and intimacy.

You had prepared the room in advance for the special night; cigars lay on the coffee table in front of the wide bed with silky damask sheets. Three glasses of whiskey with ice, a jug of water, poppy oil beside the bed, aromatic herbs hung from the ceiling and a series of candles spread across the furniture and the windowsill, through which the silver bath of moonlight filtered in. You looked at Sevika, clad in a wine-colored kimono, revealing a glimpse of her bare chest and long, shapely legs. Her hair loose and her mechanical arm gleaming with Shimmer. Certainly her feminine energy was taking more prominence tonight, and you couldn't help but finding her even more beautiful.

Sitting on the couch, Misk watched Sevika intently, sipping whiskey and taking orders with the abnegation of a soldier. He had a robe on and his hair tied in a ponytail. He was more handsome in person and when Sevika first watched him walk in, she let out a chuckle. "He looks like a puppy."

"Sevika."

"He'll act like a puppy, alright."

Misk greeted you and your wife cordially, acknowledging the reasons why he was there and taking a seat on the sofa.

"This is not about your pleasure, but about the purpose. You will do as I say." continued Sevika. "You will touch my wife only when I allow it, and you will not speak unless spoken to. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"C'mere." she commanded, watching Misk stand up and come closer.

Sevika wrinkled her nose, blowing smoke into Misk's face as she studied his bearing, his face, and his scent. She parted his lips with her fingers, taking a look of his teeth and then his eyeballs, looking for any indication that would cast doubt on his medical certificate. He smelled healthy. "You're in good shape," she said, cupping the young man's jaw to look at his angles as if he was a rare animal.

Certainly for Sevika he was, she only adresses men for gambling, business or brawls. The sole thought of sharing a bed with him was uncanny still. "My wife chose well."

She ran her hand down his throat, feeling his pulse, which felt strong and steady. "Have you been in a threesome before, young man?" inquired Sevika with a dark grin.

"I have." nodded Misk.

"Good, I'm not into teaching men what they have to do." said Sevika, letting his throat go. "No funny business or I'll rip your cock off."

"Sevi." you protested from the bed.

Sevika grinned, her eyes flickering to you. "My wife seems to have a soft spot for you," she said. "Don't push your luck, then."

Misk nodded, his expression serious. "I understand."

"You're scaring him, babe." you insisted.

"He has no reason to be scared," she said shortly. "If he behaves, he'll be rewarded. If he doesn't, he'll remember it for a long time. He also signed a contract, remember? He knows what's he getting into."

Just then, Sevika seemed convinced enought to start.

“Take a seat and watch,” Sevika ordered, leaning over to stub out her cigarette in the ashtray. “You’ll join when I say so.”

You stood up, ready and eager as Sevika approached you with confident steps. She caressed your cheek. "Are you sure you're okay with him watching?" you whispered softly. "He can enter later."

"Let him stay. He can learn a thing ot two."

┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈

You squeezed your tits between your fingers, Sevika gave you a slow and methodical oral, she ate you out with all her heart and her whole face, diving between your legs and moaning against your pussy. She took all the time in the world on it, making you shudder and whimper for relief, only for your wife to straddle you on her thigh and order you to ride her as soon as you reached your first orgasm. You refused her nothing, even when Misk was on the couch watching everything and made you shy for a moment. But Sevika gave two shits about his presence, urgently kissing your mouth, whispering obscenities that only she was capable of saying and pinching your nipples between her fingers.

Misk realized that he was in front of an experienced couple, totally in tune.

"Don't look at him," she murmured. "Eyes on me, baby. I'm the one you're riding right now."

Sevika kissed you hard, filling all your senses so that you wouldn't even consider looking at a man while you were with her. She didn't take pleasure in letting a man possess you, not now or ever, but she couldn't deny that she was attracted to your pitiful moans and the way your lips would part when Misk fucked you. Sevika knew that this encounter wasn't just for a particular purpose, it was pleasurable in equal parts and she was certainly spoiling you by consenting to it.

"Admit it." whispered Sevika. "Admit that you're dying for him to fuck you. That you're dying to be the center of attention."

"No, Sev..." you whimpered.

Sevika grabbed your throat and looked into your eyes. "You're an attention seeker, even in three years of marriage that hasn't changed. And I love how desperate you are."

"Ah." that's all you could do, pant. "Ah, ah..." and your eyes softened before Sevika let your throat go and you cried your orgasm out.

You fell on top of her. Sevika cupped your neck with a tenderness she only stored for you and placed a kiss on the top of your head. "You're not allowed to be tired," she whispered to you. "Misk is still watching."

You asked for water, Misk was the one who handed you the glass and while you drank, Sevika drew circles on your back. She looked at Misk with analytical, wary eyes, knowing that the unpostponable could not be postponed.

With a kiss on the top of your head, she made you descend from her lap and wait on the bed, still a little shaken by the two previous orgasms. Misk remained in place, Sevika reached for a cigarette on the coffee table and lit it solemnly.

"Misk." she said. "Take good care of her."

You swallowed, still not believing that Sevika was giving you over to a man. A rush of adrenaline and anticipation ran through your body when Misk nodded, looking at you lying on the bed. You stood up, bare and glowing still, allowing him to come closer.

"Can I…?" he asked, clearly afraid of angering Sevika with the slightest contact on your body.

"Yes." you whispered, allowing him to wrap his hands around your waist and kiss you.

Sevika drowned her jealousy in her cigarette, watching as Misk laid you down on the bed and ventured into your skin, your breasts and your abdomen. His touch was gentle, you appreciated it since your wife had left you quite sensitive after her intervention, but you couldn't stop looking at her while he rubbed you between your legs.

You needed her close, not to be removed from the equation.

Sevika read your thoughts clearly, sitting on the couch, the tip of her cigarette glowing with each drag before she placed it on the ashtray. “Stand up,” she ordered, to which Misk seemed to back away. “I didn’t say you were leaving.”

Misk seemed to understand, allowing Sevika to position herself behind you, cupping your breasts in both hands as she began to kiss your neck. You greeted Misk with another long kiss, feeling more secure with your wife’s close supervision. Only then you moaned opnely with pleasure, parting your legs so Misk could once again rub a sensitive but so wet pussy that it left his fingers with a wet sheen.

With your wife's intervention, the evening flowed (very) well. You were already sitting on the bed, leaning against your wife's chest who was already easing a couple of fingers in you, while Misk was busy pleasing your nipples with his tongue. You moaned, looking at your wife and giving her a short kiss before looking at Misk again. The man seemed engrossed in his task, his robe sliding enought to reveal his chest and the paleness of the vitiligo. You thought he was handsome, an ideal candidate for a beautiful baby.

However, you didn't allow yourself to look at him for too long, knowing that provoking Sevika's jealousy would probably end with a dead man in the room.

"I wanna eat you out." you whined then, cupping your wife's cheek.

"Aren't you busy enough?" she teased.

"Please..."

Sevika wasn't going to deny you anything either, she loved to indulge you in everything. Not in vain she was allowing a man on her bed. Still, she hadn't pay attention to him, much less touched him; he was there as a mere tool, she insisted. Sevika tangled her fingers in your hair, her palm firm on the back of your neck as she watched you trail kisses from her chest to her pubis. She hissed, Misk kneeling behind you and kissing your spine slowly. She felt the urge to break his nose with a punch, but you kept her busy with your mouth between her legs.

“Fuck.” She growled, looking at you. “If it wasn’t for you…” she added in a whisper.

"Mhm." you moaned, venturing to ease a finger into her. And Sevika's anger was soon replaced by a stronger feeling.

You gasped, noticing the presence of his phallus, hard and wet against your entrance. Your body bristled in anticipation, believing yourself ready to receive Misk. Sevika frowned, her hand between your locks clenching tightly. Her blood boiled.

"You hurt her and I swear I'll rip your cock off," she threatened, not caring if she was ruining the mood or not. She only cared to know that her wife was willing to continue.

"It's fine." you purred, pulling back to look at Sevika. "I'm... I'm ready."

Your hands on either side of her hips, you watched Sevika the entire time. You didn’t look away from her grey eyes, not when Misk rubbed against you, not when you arched your back to allow him in. Sevika sucked in a breath between her teeth, holding your chin when your lips parted in a shaky moan.

“Fuck.” you breathed out, kissing your wife as Misk buried himself in you.

And you were embarrassed by how fucking horny you were.

You didn't know how to put your pleasure into anything but moans, words fell short. The feeling of kissing your wife, her hand around your throat while you were being fucked was delicious. Being the center of attention turned you on like nothing else, the moans, the grunts, the obscenities that reached your ears and made you smile. You soon agreed with what Sevika had said before; you love attention. The clash of skin on skin filled the room, Misk held your waist and squeezed your skin while Sevika caressed your lower lip, watching you, almost admiring you.

"Seems you're having fun." she said against your mouth. "Breaking into moans for a man, aren't you ashamed?"

"So ashamed." you whined before Misk leaned to place a kiss on your shoulder and you read Sevika's jealousy in her eyes. "But you love watching."

"I love you." she whispered, only your ears catching such strong phrase.

You lost count of how many times you gasped, or how many times Misk made you shiver with a precise thrust. Your wife watched everything, absolutely everything, scolded and admired you in equal parts, finished smoking her cigarette and gave you a tobacco-flavored kiss before forcing you upright.

"You're already all wasted, I thought I taught you better than that." she said, gripping your chin as your eyes fluttered with exhaustation. Misk had a firm hand on your shoulder, making slower but deeper thrusts. You felt him fill you again and again, causing a slight numbing sensation in your pussy.

You were reaching your limit.

Misk let out a groan, his breathing becoming irregular and noisy. "I take this is how men let you know they're about to cum?" asked Sevika with a raised eyebrow.

"Sev." you whimpered. "I'm..."

You didn't know if you were about to cum or faint, whichever came first, but it worried Sevika. You weren't used to this amount of stimulation and Misk seemed insatiably focused on his task. It was then that Sevika kissed you and left the bed. Your chest hit the mattress, Misk growled against your ear and his hips moved incessantly, to the point that you felt imprisoned by his body. You wanted to cry, it was an unknown pleasure and your body gave signs of wanting to give up.

Until you felt it, like a warm, wet torrent that made its way inside you and filled your insides. It was then that you stifled a cry into the pillow, Misk didn't seem to stop.

"I told you to take care of her, son of a bitch," Sevika said.

Misk stopped dead at the cold touch of a cannon against his temple. "You get away from her right now or I'll shoot you in the balls, you hear?"

You didn't see Misk leave the room, but you heard him. You were lying on that bed, your legs shaking, a thread of his seed seeping between your legs. Until Sevika made you close them.

"Relax, it's all over now…" your wife whispered, sitting next to you and placing a kiss on your shoulder. "I shouldn't have agreed to this in the first place."

"I'm fine…" you murmured. Exhausted and sore, you couldn't deny that you'd never felt this pleased in bed. It wasn't Misk the important addition, it was the dynamic of being watched by your wife and realizing the desire that prevailed in her gaze.

Well, desire until she seemed to kill Misk at the last minute very appealing.

"Keep them closed, sweetheart. I won't let this happen again, either you get pregnant or I set the Council on fire. You won't go through this again."

You looked up, glancing at Sevika beside you on the bed. She covered you with her kimono, tracing circles on your lower back before frowning. “Tell me the truth.”

“Mhm?”

“You fancy Misk, don’t you?”

“You already said it, Sev. It’s suitable, but I don’t like him.” you smiled despite your exhaustion, leaning over to place a hand on your wife’s knee. “I just want to give you a child, Sevika. I want to be and make you a mother.”

“You’ll look beautiful pregnant.” Sevika whispered. "So damn beautiful, round and glowing. I wonder how I got myself such gorgeous wife."

"I wonder the same..." you smiled and Sevika leaned down to give you a kiss before patting your bottom lovingly.

“I’ll run you a bath and dinner, okay? Get some rest.”

You nodded, rolling over to lean back on the soft pillows of your bed as you watched Sevika get dressed.

"Are you gonna kill him?" you asked after a moment.

"I wanted to." she admitted. "But I have too many things to attend to add murder to the list. As long as he doesn't cross my path on the street, I won't try anything."

"Okay..." you mumbled, watching Sevika leave the room. "Love you."

"Love you more."

You sighed, tired and sore, barely processing the situation that took place in that same bed you were laying on. You had never been in a threesome, and it was a good but unrepeatable experience. You stared at the ceiling for a moment, wishing with all your might that this method would work and that you could have a child for Zaun.

But above all, a child for your wife Sevika.

[bloomzone]

📍. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟏 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

[Hi everyone, so today's blog may look a little interesting because we are in the last days of April so it's reset time . So i've been a little disconnected lately, it's exam season, and honestly it’s been a lot . Also, sorry for anyone who's been sending me questions in my inbox I might not answer everyone right away, but I promise I’ll be more active after finals and my regional exam , and actually for anyone out there who’s thinking about building a habit or tracking something next month... this is your sign ⏲️.]

ॱ🪽 ₊ . why a 7-day challenge works

"Change doesn’t happen because we suddenly decide to become someone else overnight" It happens when we choose to become slightly better versions of ourselves so for one week you will be asked to show up for yourself because all lasting change begins with a decision to start, no matter how small or imperfect that beginning may seem.

For me personally, the 7-day method has been the most effective way to rebuild habits, especially during the moments when life feels heavy when I’m stuck in a slump, caught in a rut, or feeling disconnected from myself. I have built and rebuilt many habits through this method, and I’m not here to pretend that I follow all my habits perfectly every day. That’s simply impossible. Life is unpredictable bro 💀 and being human means accepting that sometimes we will fall off track. But I’ve found that committing to a 1-week challenge creates just enough structure without feeling overwhelming. Whether it’s studying after a long period of burnout, taking care of my skin , exercising, or simply keeping my space clean, the same principle applies. I give myself one week of small, consistent effort. By the end of those seven days, something inside me shifts naturally. The habit begins to carry itself it becomes part of my daily rhythm again. This approach it’s about reconnecting with the parts of yourself that want to grow. !

so let's get into it !

ᵕ⁠⑅ 💌 .building a habit is like planting a tree

When you approach building a habit, imagine that you are planting a tree. In the beginning, the seed is fragile and invisible to the world. No one applauds you for watering it. No one even knows it’s there but you do ofc . Each action you take is a way of pressing that seed deeper into the soil, helping it find its first roots. A tree It grows because every day it reaches for the light, it anchors itself to the earth, and it trusts the slow work of time. Your habit is like a tree so it will not reveal its strength immediately. It will be built through consistency, patience, and hard work . The stronger the roots you lay in the beginning, the higher you will grow later.

🪄 ♡⁠˖ Preparing before u start

Before you start the challenge, it is important to create the right conditions for success. First choose your habit carefully. Do not pick something because it sounds impressive or because it feels like what you "should" do. Choose something you genuinely want to nurture something that will add peace, energy, or meaning to your life. Next, make the habit as specific and realistic as possible. If your habit is "read more," define it: "Read 10 pages before bed." If it’s "move more," define it too like : "Stretch for 20 minutes after waking up." Specificity turns intentions into actions. Finally, prepare your environment. Remove distractions if you can, and set yourself reminders that pull you gently back to your commitment. Success is easier when you remove as many barriers as possible before you begin.

👛 ꪆ୧ How to stay connected to your habit

As you practice the habit each day, it’s crucial to understand what you are really building. You are not just completing a task. You are shaping ur identity. Every time you follow through, even if it’s only for a few minutes, you are reinforcing the belief that you are someone who keeps their promises to themselves. At first, the actions will feel mechanical. You will not see immediate results, and it may feel pointless. This is natural NATURAL PLEASE READ IT AGAIN . Habits develop strength under the surface long before they show themselves outwardly as I said is like planting a tree . Trust the process. Know that the first few days are about teaching your mind to accept a new way of being, even if the change is invisible at first. When you focus not on achieving perfection but on maintaining connection to your action, you create a system that can survive setbacks, challenges, and the inevitable moments of doubt.

✧🕧 ~ A helpful hack to never forget ur habit

One tip that personally changed everything for me especially when my mind felt busy or overwhelmed is setting up reminders in a very intentional way. It’s simple .. If you are someone who naturally checks your phone first thing in the morning (which most of us do without even thinking about it), use it to your advantage. The night before, right before you go to sleep, open your Notes app, Notion, or even just the simplest app you have for writing and write down the habits you want to keep track of the next day. You could write something like, “Skincare routine,” “Study for one hour,” or “Stretch/workout for 30 minutes ) and add some affirmation if u want and write some words that will motivate u to get up and do it because 100% ur own words can fix u also then, leave that note open and lock your phone screen on it. The next morning, when you reach for your phone instinctively, the first thing you’ll see is your gentle reminder. It’s like that screen will be guiding you back to yourself before u will forgetting

And if you’re someone who doesn’t look at your phone first thing in the morning, you can use a simple journal instead. Keep a small notebook or journal right on your nightstand, your desk, or wherever your eyes naturally land when you wake up. Before sleeping, write your habits or intentions for the next day on the first page you will see when you open it. This way, whether you are a phone-checker or a journal-lover, you are creating a natural path for your brain to reconnect with your goals that would be like a reminder waiting for you every morning.

੭ 🗒️ ۪ ⊹ it’s okay to fall

Please don’t let people on the internet make you feel bad if you slip during this challenge or while building any habit. If you don’t feel okay one day, that’s normal please don’t be sad. NOBODY like nobody is watching you, nobody cares, just come back the next day and start counting your seven days again. This is so normal. I swear to God, it’s NORMAL . I don’t know why people make it seem like if you fall off for a day or two or even weeks , you’ve ruined everything. Like if you missed two days of exercise, or didn’t study, or didn’t do your skincare, suddenly you’re not worthy anymore, or you’re not going to be like the person you see online. That’s not true. Please don’t compare yourself to anyone you see on the internet. Even the people who post their perfect routines they mess up too. Some show it, but most of them don’t. You’re only seeing a small part of their story.

So please, never feel bad for slipping. If you fall off track, just come back the next day. It’s completely human. Bro, you’re human. Nobody’s judging you. If you feel ready the next day, go back to your habits. If you don’t feel ready, that’s okay too. Just don’t stay stuck in burnout forever. Don’t think, “I’ll rest until the burnout ends,” because usually, if you wait too long, the burnout only gets heavier (by experience) . If you feel like you’ve been stuck for days, it’s okay but please, get up gently. Go take a shower. Clean your space a little. Go outside for a walk. Then slowly come back to your habits, your intentions, your small actions the ones that make you feel like yourself again. Your body, your mind, your energy they will start to come back, even if it’s little by little ! trust yourself alwaays 🍀

@bloomzone

[ruewritesoccasionally]

I Spy | Terry Richmond

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black reader

Warnings: Dark themes & explicit smut (18+) – dom/sub dynamics, power play, voyeurism kink, degradation kink, breeding kink, overstimulation, mutual masturbation, edging, rough sex, choking, spitting, hair pulling. Use of pet names (Daddy, Princess, Sweetheart, Baby, Good girl) and aftercare } Everything is consensual, but read at your own risk.

Summary: Terry Richmond is a protector—his wife’s safety, comfort, and pleasure are always his top priority. So, when he installed security cameras around their home, she thought nothing of it. That is, until one night, when her impatience gets the better of her, and Terry calls at just the right moment. How did he know what she was doing? More importantly—what is he going to do about it?

Word count: 3K

a/n: i fear i may never get sick of writing dark fics with terry 🤭🤭

The world saw Terry Richmond as a man of discipline, a protector, a security expert who made a living out of keeping people safe. His job required precision, foresight, and the ability to stay ten steps ahead of everyone else.

It was a skill set that bled into every aspect of his life—especially when it came to her.

To outsiders, he was the devoted husband, the kind of man who took care of everything so his wife didn’t have to. A provider, a leader, a steady hand to hold in a world that never stopped spinning. But behind closed doors? That carefully curated image cracked just enough to reveal something deeper, something darker.

Because Terry didn’t just protect—he controlled.

He never had to demand obedience, never had to force her submission. That wasn’t how their dynamic worked. He made sure she had everything she needed, took every burden off her shoulders, so all she ever had to do was be good for him. She was independent, of course, but not when it came to him. Not in the ways that mattered.

And she loved it.

Maybe she didn’t realise just how much, but Terry did.

The cameras in their home were supposed to be for protection. A necessary precaution—especially given his line of work. At least, that’s what he told her. And she never questioned it, never really thought about the way his eyes seemed to be on her at all times.

How he always knew things he shouldn’t.

How he’d casually mention the way she liked to stretch after a shower, in their bedroom, alone.

How he’d remind her to drink water, to take a break, even when he wasn’t home.

Little things. Tiny, insignificant moments that should’ve been easy to brush off.

And yet, every now and then, she’d jokingly accuse him of knowing everything.

And every single time, Terry would just smirk.

Terry was at work when the doorbell camera notification pinged on his phone. A routine check—he already knew who it was. His wife. Home.

He watched as she stepped inside, her shoulders sunken, bearing the weight of the day. His jaw tensed. Terry watched, letting his eyes track each motion, each flex of muscle, each quiet sigh as she exhaled the stress of the day. He made a mental note to stop by the store—flowers, wine, something to make her smile.

His eyes stayed locked on the screen as she moved through the house, each step methodical, shedding layers as she went. Bag down. Shoes off. Jewellery unfastened. Then, without pause, she stripped away the first layer of clothing and made a beeline for the shower.

A smirk played at his lips. Switching feeds.

Bedroom feed. Ensuite door left open. Perfect view.

Steam curled past the frame, misting over the lens, but not enough to block his view. After so many years together, she could still bring him to his knees, take his breath away like it was the first time. Stunning.

The water cascaded over her skin, gliding down the soft slope of her shoulders, rolling over her curves, tracing lines he had memorised by touch. Awe and jealousy twisted in his gut. Watching the way the droplets stroke along her body, touching places before he could, had his fingers flexing over his thigh.

She was relaxing now—he could see it in the way her muscles unwound, the tension draining from her limbs with the rising steam. And then…

Her hands started to wander.

Innocent at first—dragging over the length of her arms, fingertips gracing her collarbones, down her chest, ghosting over the peaks of her nipples, following the curve of her waist, down the expanse of her thighs to the soft heat nestled between them.

Terry’s trance faltered. His breath stilled.

Would she?

His jaw flexed as he watched her fingers tease at her entrance, skimming the sensitive flesh - a mere whisper of a touch.

But then as if she knew, as if she felt his eyes on her through the lens her fingers halted.

Just like that, she continued the rest of her shower.

Terry exhaled slowly, heat curling in his gut. Good girl.

He would definitely reward her tonight.

Terry watched as she left the shower, her skin glistening and soft, her routine precise and practiced. His fingers itched to replace the ones that gently massaged the oil into her body, but there was a soft warmth he felt in seeing her more relaxed now—more content than she had been when she first walked through the door. His shift was nearly over, and though he had done his best to be patient, the pressure in his trousers told him how badly he wanted her. He couldn’t wait. Not with the way his dick was fighting against the fabric.

He saw her stretch out on the bed, melting into the soft sheets, her expression a mix of contemplation and need—something that made Terry pause, unable to fully read her through the tiny screen. He wondered what thoughts had crept into her mind, but that question was quickly answered. She parted her thighs, giving in to the pressure he couldn’t see but always felt. The same motion she had started in the shower, now continuing in the sanctuary of their bed.

All thoughts of reward and praise left his mind in that instant. This... this was a challenge. And a betrayal. And he wasn’t going to let it slide. Not with the way she had been so damn careless.

He kept his focus on the live feed, watching, unable to tear his gaze away from her as she touched herself. He wanted to reach through the screen, stop her, punish her. Instead, he called her.

The frustration was evident on her face as his call interrupted her, the satisfaction on her features faltering. But then she recognised the name on the screen, and a soft smile replaced her frustration. She thought it was a casual check-in, a harmless conversation with her husband. But Terry wasn’t here for pleasantries anymore.

He teased her at first, coaxing her into comfort, his voice soft, like he hadn’t just watched her betray him in their own home.

“How’s my girl doing?” he asked, his tone deceptively casual. “What’s on your mind?”

She responded, her voice softer now, already losing some of the tension she had held when he first interrupted her. Terry let her settle into the illusion of normalcy.

But he couldn’t help himself. His gaze hardened. The possessiveness that surged through him made his next words come out sharp, laced with that commanding tone she knew all too well.

“Are you enjoying touching what’s mine, my love?” he asked, the heat of his voice sending a ripple through her. “Too greedy to wait until I get home?”

Her breath hitched at his words, a flicker of shame— or was it excitement?—crossing her face as her mind caught up with her actions.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Terry continued, his voice lowering, predatory. “I have something to fix that impatience.”

With that, he cut the call, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

She sat up, dumbfounded, her mind reeling as she pieced things together. How did he know what she was doing? He always had a sixth sense about everything, from the mundane to the extreme. She used to joke that he had eyes at the back of his head or that there were cameras everywhere—but maybe that wasn’t just a joke anymore.

All she could do now was wait. Wait and see what was in store.

Terry came home, taking his time. He barely acknowledged her presence as he entered their bedroom, heading straight into the en-suite. If she didn’t know any better, she might’ve thought he was angry with her. But she knew better. She knew how much he loved her—too much to ever stay angry for long. No, this wasn’t about anger. This was about something else. Disobedience. That’s what he couldn’t tolerate.

She squirmed uncomfortably on the bed, her anticipation rising as she waited for him to finish his shower. Right on cue, he emerged, dressed in nothing but a towel. The sight of him—drenched, glistening, and radiating confidence—took her breath away. She couldn’t help but drink him in, her gaze lingering on the defined muscles of his chest, the water still clinging to his skin. They were both greedy, in a way. Him for being so impossibly handsome, and her for having him all to herself. That was exactly how she liked it.

His voice broke her idle reverie, smooth and knowing, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, as if he could read her thoughts. "So, do you have anything to say for yourself?" he asked, the mockery clear in his tone.

She knew there was no good answer, no way to make it right, so she chose to stay silent. Her heart raced. Her pulse quickened. She waited for him to make his move.

He tilted his head, his eyes darkening with that signature dominance of his. "No? That’s fine. I did say I have a cure for your impatience." His voice dropped lower, a dangerous edge to it now. "You have a scratch to itch? That’s fine, sweetheart. You’re going to do just that. Here. Now. Until I say stop."

She held her breath, his words settling into the heavy air between them. "And since you’ve taken on that silent streak, I’ll take it as a yes. Not that you would ever say no to Daddy."

Terry's control was absolute. He dragged the chair from the vanity, positioning it at the foot of the bed, where he had the perfect view of her centre. His gaze flicked between her, observing every response she gave him—her parted lips, chest rising and falling with each breath, the curl of her toes. He ignored her pleas, focused instead on the sight of her slowly falling apart in front of him.

The thrill of the moment wasn’t enough for him to rush. He slowly stroked himself, his fist working over his length with an even pace. He was in no hurry. Watching her unfold, helpless to stop her own reactions, was enough.

Her attention shifted when she heard a low groan pass from his lips. She blinked, eyes drawn to the bead of pre-cum that pooled at the tip of his cock, a perfect drop dribbling down the shaft. His balls rested heavy on his thighs, and their eyes locked—an unspoken understanding between them, the tension palpable. The game was his, and he played it to perfection.

Terry’s voice broke the silence, a playful yet possessive tone dripping from each word. "You wanna watch, don’t you, baby? See what you can’t have until I decide."

Her breath quickened, and her chest heaved as she clenched the sheets tighter. The sound of his voice, mixed with the image of him touching himself so slowly, made her insides ache. She could feel her orgasm building, every inch of her body begging to release. But Terry wasn’t finished with her yet.

When she tried to stop, thinking she could control the situation, he halted her attempt with a firm command. “Now, I know I might be asking a lot from that pretty head of yours, but until you hear me say stop, you don’t.”

He moved to her side, kneeling between her legs, his gaze soft yet dark. Her pulse quickened as the reality of what was about to unfold hit her. She had no idea what he was planning, but she knew it wouldn’t be gentle.

Her climax was building, more intense now with his eyes on her, the thrill of being watched making it so much more unbearable.

Terry’s hand gripped her jaw, tilting her head back as he stared into her eyes. Her breath hitched, the air thick with the weight of his control. She was trembling, the effects of his teasing leaving her both desperate and afraid of what was to come next. He hadn’t given her permission to speak, but her lips parted nonetheless, desperate for something—anything—to release the pressure that had built inside her.

Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her, her body fighting the urge to writhe under his touch. She knew he wouldn’t let her go until he’d fully reminded her who was in charge.

Terry’s smirk deepened, watching her struggle with the flood of sensations. "Good girls don’t beg, sweetheart. But you? You’ve been nothing but greedy. You’re gonna finish what you started, and you’re gonna do it right. Under my control. Understand?"

Her body was still, her eyes pleading with him, but no words left her lips. It wasn’t that she couldn’t speak—it was that she didn’t need to. He knew.

"Perfect," he murmured, his fingers moving down her body to stroke her folds, his touch slow and deliberate. She gasped, unable to hold back the soft sounds as he teased her. His other hand, still holding her jaw, forced her to keep her eyes on him, keeping her attention firmly on his every movement.

His eyes never left hers as he slid his hand back down to her body, his thumb circling her clit with torturous slowness. The sensation was overwhelming, but his control was absolute. Every inch of her body screamed to come undone, but he was in charge.

Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her skin slick with sweat as the pressure inside her built higher. She couldn’t hold it anymore. Her orgasm threatened to tear through her, but just as she reached the brink, he pulled away, a deep chuckle escaping his lips as he watched her squirm in frustration.

“Now, Princess,” he purred, his voice dripping with that predatory tone she knew all too well. “I’m not sure which I want first—a thank you or an apology?”

Confusion flickered across her face, and he smirked, knowing she hadn’t quite grasped his intentions. “Now you know I take care of you in every way I can, and I do a damn good job at it too,” he continued, his eyes darkening with the hint of a challenge. “So why’d you think it was a good idea to take that from me, huh?”

Her head spun, but his words cut through the haze, her body reacting before she could form any sort of coherent thought. The sharp bite of his dominance pierced through her, the sting of humiliation mingling with her need. Her face flushed, the power dynamic flipping in an instant.

Terry moved to her side, pulling her legs wide as he positioned himself between them. His voice dropped, commanding her attention. "It's time to remind you who you belong to."

His hands slid over her body, his grip firm and possessive. He didn’t give her a chance to protest, pulling her into his lap as he thrust inside her, every movement rough and deliberate. She moaned loudly, the feel of him filling her driving her wild with need.

"Don’t forget who owns this," he growled, thrusting deeper, harder. "You’re mine, and don’t you dare forget it."

His thrusts were relentless, punishing in their intensity. He filled her, the connection between them now absolute. As he fucked her harder, faster, he pulled her hair back, forcing her to look him in the eyes as he claimed her fully.

“Don’t fight it,” he commanded, his breath ragged. “You’re mine, baby. Always.”

As the aftershocks of their climax rippled through her, Terry didn’t let go of her right away. His hand moved to her face, brushing away the strands of hair that clung to her skin, his touch gentle despite the fierceness that had just passed between them. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, soft but unwavering, as he cupped her cheek in his large palm.

"You're okay," he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw, soothing her with each pass. His voice was no longer rough with dominance, but warm with the comfort she desperately needed. His presence grounded her, reminded her that she was safe. She nodded slowly, her breath still unsteady, but his words had calmed the storm inside her.

He pulled her closer, guiding her to rest her head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear lulling her into a sense of calm. She breathed deeply, trying to steady her pulse, his hands gently massaging her back, easing the tension out of her.

“You did so good for me, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You always do. But listen to me now, alright?"

She blinked, nodding against his chest, eyes fluttering closed as she waited for his next words. His voice was softer now, but still commanding in its way, holding her attention like a tether.

"When you're out in the world, you can do all the thinking you like," he said, his voice deep and steady, "but at home, with me? You switch your brain off. You listen, and you let me lead. No questioning, no second-guessing. Just trust."

The words settled in her chest, warm and reassuring. There was no shame, no hesitation—just his quiet certainty that she belonged with him, and he would always take care of her.

Her hand found his, threading their fingers together, and she squeezed, the gesture simple but full of meaning. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, before lifting her chin to meet his gaze.

"Do you understand, princess?"

Her lips parted, a soft smile tugging at her mouth, her heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper, something all-consuming. “Yes, Daddy. I understand.”

Terry’s smile was soft, approving, as he brushed a final lock of hair from her face, his thumb grazing her lower lip. He leaned in to kiss her, slow and lingering, as though they had all the time in the world.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against her lips, the words a vow, a promise. “And that’s never gonna change.”

She melted into the kiss, content in the certainty of his love and control, knowing that no matter what the world outside brought, at least here, with him, she was safe. Always.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718 @notapradagurl7 @theogbadbitch @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @wildcardmelaninfreak

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[sordidmusings]

He and His Hat Will Be the Death of You

Summary: "He didn’t think that these close quarters would be an issue; hell, he was looking forward to it. He’s been fixated on you for awhile now. He’s deep in the yearning stage, actively seeking excuses for easily written off closeness. This hiding spot was sure not to be found and he gets to be crammed in there with you? ‘Best of both worlds!’ He had thought like the ignorant fool he was."

Y'all in a wall to spy and being trapped against you has Sabo at his wit's end.

A/N: Overthinking but a friend encouraged me to post❣️ Managed to get a very belated thing done for Sabo (almost forgot his bday tbh lol). Big shoutout to @hannahbarberra162 for beta-ing and suggesting to have this be a two parter and encouraging me to follow my instincts on Sabo being a Freak (affectionate) and reminding me I should utilize his dumb hat lol. Also a big shoutout to @schoute, who read through at the end and gave me encouragement as she always does 💚💚💚 Much love!!

Also thank you everyone for your patience with me as always 🤍🤍🤍

Word Count: ~3.5k

Warnings: NSFW, afab!reader, Sabo a freak freak in this one, cumming in pants, getting off to near death situations, dry humping, he's suffering of horny and you're accidentally making it Worse lol, accidental stimulation, very close quarters (you're both in a false wall because Reasons), some power imbalance (you’re his apprentice and obvs he’s a superior officer)

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Sabo is so glad that he’s the one in front. If he was the one behind you, you’d find out things he’s not ready to talk to you about. He’s sure he’ll tell you soon. One day. Maybe. Hopefully.

But if when that day comes, he won’t be telling you like this. Not with a nervous flush pinking his skin. Not with a slight tremble in his fingers and a shiver in his spine. Not with stuttering breath nor a mind skittering from all but your touch.

Despite his advantageous position, you’re sure not making it easy on him. Your steady breaths keep tickling the baby hairs on the nape of his neck, kindling a heat that swirls under his skin, moving through his chest and down. The insides of your thighs gently tease his hips. They give him little shocks every time your muscles move to adjust your dangling legs, accidentally caressing him. He dreads each time you move to peak around him; it invariably involves your hands holding his shoulders for balance and your chest pressed to his back for the same reason. You have a habit of always needing your hands busy, and it works against him when you absentmindedly massage thumbs into his tense muscles or trail your nails over his shirt, gently picking at it. The reminder that the touch is barely in your mind while it’s all his mind can hold onto makes him want to slam his head into the wall in front of him.

Unfortunately, that would be bad for many reasons.

High among them is that you’d likely think he’s a weird fucking idiot for doing that out of nowhere, especially when you’re meant to be silent. Then there’s the fact that you’re meant to be silent because there are targets he’s supposed to be spying on on the other side of the wall. Ones who definitely wouldn’t let a suspicious thump in the wall stay free of bullets for long.

That all is why you are both hidden in this false wall in the first place. A mission listening in and gathering intel with his beloved protege is not out of the ordinary, but this method sure is. He didn’t think that these close quarters would be an issue; hell, he was looking forward to it. He’s been fixated on you for awhile now. He’s deep in the yearning stage, actively seeking excuses for easily written off closeness. This hiding spot was sure not to be found and he gets to be crammed in there with you? ‘Best of both worlds!’ He had thought like the ignorant fool he was.

The logistics were nightmarish in themselves - finding the intended location that these meetings were to be held, finding the schedules of everyone in the building, sneaking in during the blind spots, creating a hollow you could slide into and traverse from the roof just above, replacing the mirror in the room with a one way. So much of it was luck, really, especially that your targets were the type to meet in gaudy gold crusted rooms with walls crammed full of decorations and filigree. No one who covets wealth so much could stand to stay in a room without a mirror, lest they go too long seeing their own image caked in opulence. And unfortunately they also tended to be tall if the height of the mirror was anything to go by.

Sabo could see out of it standing, his lips at level with the bottom edge of it but that meant that you would need a boost to see out. The mirror wasn’t wide so one of you raised behind the other made more sense, thus a small ledge was made with just enough strength and size to hold you sitting. The walls they built here were thick for soundproofing and fireproofing and that old castle feel. It gave you enough room to hop up and let Sabo squeeze in front of you, but you were always just brushing against his back and your knees were gently touching the wall next to his thighs. It was insanely uncomfortable for you after hours of being in here. You kept fidgeting, the time enough to make you a bit restless but the harsh ledge trying to turn you numb and the awkward way it rested your weight made it impossible to hold completely still. You tried to find comfort in Sabo through leaning into him and focusing on his warmth instead of the needles starting to creep down the back of your thighs. Good training and deep breathing kept you centered enough to focus on the room through the mirror and you had recording snails to save anything you may miss.

Sabo can’t believe himself right now - you’re his apprentice not the other way around, yet he’s the one that couldn’t tell you what these men were talking about if his life depended on it and it might actually come to that. Luckily you would have the answers but unluckily you are why he did not. You were also why he was so hot in this damned wall crammed against your body heat and electric touches. You’re why he’s currently picking a hole through his gloves in an attempt to keep his hands from sinking into the thighs that cage him. You’re why his lower back aches from the tenseness of holding his body still when all it wants to do is roll and give him some Gods forsaken relief.

He gives his head a small shake to snap himself into focus. He feels you reel back in surprise, narrowly avoiding a faceful of his hat. Your hands slide down and you squeeze his biceps lightly in question.

Are you okay?

Sabo hates that you’re so kind right now. Well that’s a lie, he always loves it but did everything you do have to overwhelm him so much? He thought this would be fine, it’s not like he hasn’t been close to you before but fuck being around you has gotten harder and harder as it’s gotten sweeter and sweeter. With each piece of you he sees he’s come to respect you more then enjoy you more then adore you more and he can’t tell you. He’s your superior, your idol, and now your friend. If you knew the devotion - the hunger - swirling in him, surely you’d be upset, surely you- fuck why are your thighs squeezing him?

To Sabo’s delight and horror you let out a whimper so quiet it barely made it to your lips, but he heard it. His hips rock forward once before he even knew they were moving but he does know the flush of pleasure that washes over him when his aching erection grinds into the wall before him. He stills his body, leaving his hips pressed tight to the wall and away from you. It’s slightly painful and definitely not what he wants, but he’s so wound tight that any attention on his throbbing cock is almost too good to resist. Choking back his own whimper, Sabo slowly rests his forehead on the wall, careful his hat doesn’t fall off completely, and blows out a tight breath.

You continue your slow squirming. One hand leaves him but the other digs in firmly to his shoulder now, slightly pulling down as if to lift yourself up. He shuts his eyes tight to keep them from rolling, unable to stop the flood of fantasies of you gripping and pawing at him, panting and whining, drawing him closer with clenching thighs just like the ones twitching at his sides-

Sabo is unable to stop another rock of his hips forward. He slowly presses his hands hard into the wall to keep them from seeking you. He soon gives up stillness and busies one hand with keeping his hat steady while the other fists around the lapel of his jacket. His hips can’t keep from motion either; miniscule circles keep his cock rubbing against the wall. It’s too hard to feel good but feeling nothing is maddening and he couldn’t possibly do anything else with you all over him.

You pull down harder and this time his eyes do roll back. Precum leaks heavily out of his painfully sensitive tip. It starts to leak down over his head and down his shaft, well all the mess that isn’t soaked up by his pants. He worries for a second about hiding the growing stain when you both leave but then you sink your fingertips into him again and huff a breath on his tingling skin and there’s nothing in the world but you.

Your warm presence at his back, your desperate touch, your weight teasing at him, fuck he can even smell you on the air in here trapped so tight for so long. Wait does that mean you can smell him? Does he reek of sex - can you tell he’s leaking for you? Would you mind? Would it flatter you to know how much of a mess you make of him? Would you taunt him and make him make it up to you or would you want him to use the strength you admire to rip every bit of pleasure either of you can feel from your bodies-

Deep squabbling voices drum through the wall and remind him where he is.

Sabo’s hands finally flit to your thighs to stop your torturous squirming. Even with his gloves he can feel the plush of them by how his grip sinks into you. His fingers press deep and he can tell how good the grip is, how he could use it to press and pose you to his whims, drag you closer, open you up, fold you half. At the moment, all he allows it to do is hold you still and hold you close. Instead of a command to stop, however, you take it as an invitation.

That invitation leads you deeper against him, leaning your chest forward to put some of your weight on him instead of your sore bottom. It’s not much, but enough to dial encroaching agony back down to pain. Your head relaxes forward against him in relief, gently bumping under the brim of his hat from your spot buried against the back of his neck. One hand stays anchored to his shoulder while the other slides around his trim waist to anchor him to you. You feel his abs twitch and diaphragm stutter even through all his layers.

Sabo tries to shift himself up to help you and do something with all this energy. It relieves a speck more of the numbing pressure from your seat, and you can’t help but sigh from it. The sound is barely there, definitely kept safe from outside ears by the barrier of the wall but definitely close enough for Sabo to feel as well as he hears. He knows it was from something innocent but god was it just the same as some of the sighs he’d dream of pulling from you - sighs dripping with relief and need and even the pain of drawing you close again and again till all you can do writhe and gasp and beg and need him. He needs you to be as pathetic of a puddle of want as you’re making him and without even trying.

The fantasy melding with your touch takes him again and he just can’t help but cant forward again to grind himself on anything. He’s not sure if he’s ever ached half as much of this and is dangerously close to ruining the mission and risking your lives just to spin around, shred your clothes, and fuck you. But more than that he needs you to be as obsessed with him as he is with you or he shouldn’t get to sink into you, it wouldn’t feel right.

His hands give one massaging change of grip and then he’s pulling you forward with him on the next grind. This time, he’s holding a sizable portion of your weight and you squeeze him in relief and for more. Your second sigh stutters so prettily and he can feel your lungs and breasts jump with it against his back and the little hairs on his neck that it tickles. Who could blame him for tilting his head back to hear and feel more?

His hat is falling, the action bumping it right off of his head. Habit and instinct meet to jerk his hand towards it and the thump of knuckle meeting wall stops both of your hearts.

Before they could find their next beat, three shots tear through the air and the drywall. Your world lurches and liquid tingles run through every inch of your body, washing out all other feeling. Every muscle tightens, stopping squirm and grasp and blinking and breath and all but your newly sprinting heart. Sabo is stiff as stone in your hold, doing little to comfort you. Your only measure of time is the growing burn of your wide eyes and stalled lungs.

“Always breathe first”

The echo of Sabo’s steady voice in training breaks through the fuzz in your head and you can exhale. A spec of clarity eases in with the oxygen and you realize that you aren’t hurt. A tilt of your head and you realize the bullets ripped through the wall and planted themselves in the back layer safely to your side. And only because Sabo jerked you both just out of their aim.

More oxygen guides you out of the purgatory of fight or flight when the sounds of the meeting resume. The adrenaline begins to fall off of you, pulling you to lay slack against Sabo’s back. You feel him tremble and hold him as best you can, worried he’s stuck in the punishing fear that just swallowed you before spitting you back out.

Sabo is definitely stuck and there certainly is fear, but that’s not why he trembles. At first it was definitely for your safety; he doesn’t know what he’d do if you were truly hurt, especially because of his own blunder. He’s thankful that true danger kicked off his haki and let him act so quickly and competently where before he was too consumed to think of much of anything. He’s only dug back deeper into that hole now that “you’re safe” turned to a ringing of “we almost died” in his head. Each time the thought repeats, it pounds in his heart and shoots violently to his cock. The exhilaration, the danger, the relief, they all overwhelm him and make him feel so alive and so needy and so sensitive and so fucking close.

He trembles and gnaws at his lip to keep his throbbing cock from drooling out any more than the precum that’s been wetting his underwear for awhile now. He can feel it pounding between his legs so hard that it hurts. But shame keeps him fighting against the mouthwatering orgasm wringing in his gut.

What kind of freak cums from getting shot at? How could he lose himself with you so sweetly tucked to his back, no clue to how desperate and turned on and depraved he’s being? How lowly would you think of the man that’s your superior, your teacher and guardian, if you found out that being near you has them so close and a little fright pushes them over the edge? That they held you as they came in their pants like a pathetic loser?

The hyper awareness of his stoked haki and adrenaline make it all the easier to feel every little movement you make. He feels you settle boneless against him, relishing your weight pressing you so close. He feels your grip turn from a lifeline back into an embrace, making him hold back a sob at how soft it makes his heart and how painfully hard it makes his dick. He feels you use your thighs this time, gently squeezing his hips in something meant to be comforting but that ends up being agonizingly erotic. The muscle and fat of your thighs feels so warm and alive squeezing him and all he can think of is them holding him tight while his cock is instead throbbing in your wet heat, where each jerk of his hips shoots another gush of hot cum to the rhythm of your orgasm wringing down around him. He can hear your moans and cries and pleas ringing through his head now.

“It’s alright, darling, please cum in me, fill me up -nngh- I need all of you -hah!- Sabo! please cum for me, it’s okay, I need it”

Against his will, his hands grip down hard again and pull your thighs even tighter to him. You’re pressed so close he can feel the natural heat between your legs warming his lower back and it drives him insane.

Thinking he’s scared from the close call and possibly nervous about causing it, you give him a reassuring squeeze. A fresh shiver runs through his body from head to toe. Heart sinking even more at his sorry state, you move your hand from his shoulder so both arms are wrapping around him. This one changes trajectory, sliding to the middle of his chest, over his heart. You draw a few shapes over his sternum before applying firm pressure with a flat palm.

Sabo’s heart beats its ardor against your palm, but all it translates to you is anxiety. You don’t know that your sweetness only warms him through, drowns him deeper in the depths of love and desire he was already struggling to tread, sinks him into the world in his head where he’s already flooding you full like every cell in his body is begging for. A world colored by your gratitude for him saving you both from near death and your hidden love for him that had you throw yourself into him with the same desperation that’s burning him alive.

You nose forward until your lips are at his ear. Your lips and breath tickle the rim of it. He’s still tense and trembling and you’re so worried you forgo some of your fears and whisper, “‘s okay.”

Your thighs gripping him, your hand holding his heart, and your words - so close to his dream’s - smother him and he jolts. His breath is trapped in his throat, his jaw slack and mouth open as if to let it free, but his eyes and brow scrunch with delicious agony. He can’t think of any of that over the bliss beating through him as all the pressure finally turns to the crashing waves of his orgasm wringing him empty with spurt after spurt. His stomach and thighs burn at the tenseness turning to relief, taken by involuntary twitches and the power of each thump of his cock against the tight confines of his pants ricochets through them.

You hold and caress and, as quietly as possible, shush him through his orgasm. It makes it all the easier to imagine the sticky mess around his cock is a mix of your slick and the cum he’s pumping into you.

It’s a long while before Sabo settles. The crash of both the adrenaline leaving and an orgasm strong enough to keep him kicking past having anything to give make him fall almost completely slack in your grip. He leads it gently so the wall holds him and you up (at the cost of being able to watch the meeting, as if either of you were fulfilling the mission at this point) and focuses on aiming to be silent while he tries to catch his breath. All the while, you sweetly anchor him through their capricious tides.

It makes him ache again - a corrosive pool of shame eating at his chest. Reality trickles in with it and sets its scars in his flesh and bones. Not only did he cum in your arms while you’re none the wiser, he did it on a mission where you almost got shot and are trying to comfort him about it. The empathy and care he so loves in you are only serving to shove him into the grave he’s dug with his uncontrollable attraction to you. You offer him your affection and he perverts it into dry humping a wall and ruining his trousers. It’s wasted on him.

He doesn’t deserve your touch, your love - not like this.

But he can’t escape you. Even when he’s reigned in his lungs and heart, you’re right there with your tickling breath. Even when he’s forcing his mind to repeat every word he picks up from the other side of the wall, you’re right there with your resting cheek. Even when he’s managed to smoothly place you back on your ledge and his hands back on the wall, you’re there with your embracing arms.

It’s the best hell he’s ever known.

He was almost sad to see its gates open once the earth outside them was empty.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading!! There will be a part two Eventually where both are aware participants this time lol

Will update with taglist soon!

Masterlist

[salemlunaa]

☀︎it’s not transactional ☀︎

stop looking at methods as a unit of currency…

When people speak of relationships, they say it shouldn’t be transactional because that’s toxic. For example just because your boyfriend/girlfriend has done something nice for you doesn’t mean you owe him or her sex. And the same goes for your relationship with manifesting, you aren’t owed your desires just because you did some method? And why? because you already have them.

Stop seeing methods as if it’s some unit of exchange!! what it’s not:

you do the method →you get your manifestation

you affirm “I AM” →you induce the void state

you listen to that one subliminal →you have your dream body

It’s not something that you exchange, it’s not “I give my time and effort to this method and then in return I get my manifestation” stop seeing it like money. With money you give and you get something you paid for in return. That’s not how it works here because you don’t need to get something you already have and failure to understand will cost you a lot of time with your manifestations and will cost you a lot of blood sweat and tears that just don’t need to shed.

Methods don’t help you get things, the things you wanted were yours the second you wanted them to be. What methods do is remind you, because unfortunately we live in a society that drills a horrible way of thinking into our heads. Thinking that tells us that “nothing is free”, “you have to work for what you want”, “life isn’t fair”. And due to this thinking being instilled in us since forever, we need reminders, in a perfect world we would think of something and it would appear infront of us, but because of society, so much resistance has been created that we need reminders to brake those barriers, those reminders come in methods. And that’s all they are.

Now since i showed you what doesn’t happen, let me show you what actually happens:

you thought of it → it’s here → remind yourself with a method (optional) → stand firm (mandatory) → your already real desire appears in the 3d as a mere byproduct, the cherry on top if you will.

you are “I AM” → you set the intention to induce pure consciousness → you affirm “I AM” to remind yourself (optional) → you’ve induce pure consciousness, congrats

you are the operant power → you decide you want that body, it’s not desired anymore it’s just how you look → subliminal reminds you of that → appears in the 3d as a side effect

So do not come here and say “I tried this method and it failed me”, no. that’s just not possible. You failed to remind yourself and you wavered. Nothing to do with a lifeless method.

Let’s say you want to go to a certain destination? The method isn’t the car driving you there, it doesn’t help you get there, it doesn’t help you get anywhere. Because guess what? you were already at your dream destination, the method just helps you remember even when circumstances shows that your still in the unfavourable destination.

so please stop scrolling endlessly for the “best method”, because there is no method that objectively works better than the other, however there may be methods that help you stand a lot firmer. But you need to remember it’s individual, just because you saw a girl who did affirmations and got her dream life in a week doesn’t mean that will help you stand firm better, visualisation may help you achieve the favourable mindset a lot easier and quicker than a subliminal, everyone is different.

And that is why, you don’t need methods, when bloggers say “all you need is yourself” we’re not tryna give you some sappy motivation, it’s truth. You don’t need any method, at all.

☄️🐋 Methods are the reminder, not the booster or the helper… 💋

[alyssa-the-witch]

Offerings and their Removal

Disclosure, this may not apply to everyone! Cherry pick it if that works for you, or take none at all. Just no hate or arguments in the comments!

Definition- Offering - Something given to an entity or deity to show appreciation. This can also be something done or said to show appreciation.

~~~~~Types of Offerings~~~~~

Food- In ancient tradition, specifically Greek, the first bites of food were thrown into the fire to be sent through the gods by smoke. However, this isn't an option for many people these days. Alternative methods are favored.

Fire - The old methods are still applicable if available. If one has a bon fire or fire-place/hearth, the first bite of food can still be "smoked" , per-say.

Prayer - A small prayer can be said over food before the first bite is taken. Just a simple "Entity/spirit, please accept this offering, Blessed Be" or something similar can suffice. This, for some deities like Hestia can be done at the end too. This is more convenient for a hidden practice and for those who can't afford to waste food.

Altar- If you have an altar, or ever a small bowl, they can place the first bite of food there for the deity entity too.

Objects and Trinkets- Just like us, deities/entities love little trinkets. Whether it be a few coins you find nice to a statue or an engraved candle. Whatever it my be, it can be given to an entity with a prayer and/or on an altar in their honor.

Removables - There are some things that can be placed on altar and taken off. I like to call them removables. When placed on an altar, one could say "Entity/Deity, bless this object, with your energy and blessings." let it sit for a moment or cleanse with incense. If a clothing item, accessory, or perfume, you can take it off and use/wear it. Just remember to put it back to refresh the energy and discuss before taking it off for the first time.

Actions - There are also things that one can do in offer of a deity or entity. They can be small things, like prayers, to full-on rituals.

Prayer- This is probably the easiest in my opinion. It can be a small "Hey entity/deity, I appreciate you." on the go, or reciting a hymn or a prayer by the altar. It's incredibly diverse and can meld to any practice.

Chores - This can apply more to some deities than others, but just Keeping your room and house tidy can be done in honor of a deity. Altars specifically can be cleaned or re-arranged as an offering

Art-In ancient times, arts of every kind were offered to deities ant spirits. And it can fit most anyone's style.

Music- written specifically or just a song you think reminds you of them. Drawings/Paintings- try thing that reminds you of the deity or how you see them can be drawn or painted. Others- Pottery, Dance, Crocheting or handy crafts, or even more. All can be done in offering to a deity. Specifics - If you have done research into who you're offering to, you can offer specific things. Sleep for Hypnos, Baking bread for Hestia, Rehearsing if in the arts for Dionysus, etc. Self Care- This not a lot of people think applies, however the gas most want you to be kind to your self. whether it be a bath with oils, flower petals, and all the works to just brushing your teeth at night. All would make the gods/entities very proud of you!!

~~~~~Disposal~~~~~

This is something a bit more difficult; You did the thing, you think it's time, now what do you do? A decent chunk of this section was taken from @khaire-traveler. Obviously, actions cannot be "removed" Once the action is complete, the offering is sent.

Food- khaire narrowed it into 4 options that I really like. Just remember, when on an alter, don't let it sit too long for health concerns (rotting, bugs, etc.)

Consume - After praying aver the food like I had mentioned before.

Bum - Also mentioned before, but can be done after sitting at an altar for awhile.

Bury- Food offerings. if safe for local wildlife, can be buried. "My logic in burying them (only if environmentally safe) is returning the offering to the earth in a sense." (khair-3) (Yes its MLA cited, AP capstone has rotted my brain) If that fits Your practice, it is a good option.

Dispose, - This, like everything else here, must be done with respect. Clarify with the entity/deity that you aren't doing so out of disrespect, rather because this is your preferred disposal style or your only option

Objects/Art Pieces- If you have this ability, talk to your entity/deity about it, clarify there is no disrespect in the removal, and give the deity some time to de-attach to it. Slowly, the energy will fade from the object when kept away from the altar. This doesn't need to a ritual, but can be if that's what you prefer

Thank you for reading! This is my first fore into the pagan-sphere, so if this is something a lot of people like, I'll continue! Blessed Be, Alyssa the Witch!

[yaseraphine]

pick a card 3 - something you need to hear right now.

Last day where the Sun is in Scorpio. First day where the Sun enters Sagittarius.

The month of November is always a tough month for everyone. This pick a card is aimed to give some guidance through these dark times. Scorpio energy can be sometimes overwhelmingly intense and gloomy, but it holds great power. Use this energy to die peacefully, and shed your old skin. Like a phoenix, we will all rise from our ashes.

Words of encouragement, healing messages and a tiny bit of reality checks are what this reading will bring you. Hope it resonates.

Pile 1 

The World, 2 of Wands, Knight of Wands, Page of Swords, 10 of Swords (Rx), Queen of Pentacles (Rx?)

Top of the deck : 8 of Cups

Bottom of the deck : 2 of Swords

Life path 7 / Life path 11

“You don’t drown by falling in the water, you drown by staying there.”

“Do what makes you fucking happy”

additional quote : “Do what makes your soul shine <3”

Right off the bat, there is a sense of urgency in walking away from something and making a firm decision. I think you have been in denial about something in your life, avoiding it by trying to live a “normal life”. You’ve been focusing on your day to day tasks as a distraction but something has been at the back of your mind for a while now. And when I say for a while, I mean at least two years, or one year. It is something that you have, overtime, subconsciously suppressed because at the time this thing, career, job, creative endeavor,.. was important to you, but you did not have (or thought you didn’t have) enough knowledge and resources to take methodical practical steps towards it. I am picking up that this might have been something that happened slightly before or during the pandemic (2019/2020). The World fell out of the deck, and this card indicates the completion of a cycle, an ending. After it, the 2 of Wands fell, which indicates future planning, progress, decision and discovery. I feel like the message you need to hear is that now is the perfect time to start this project of yours, or at least plan the practical actions you need to take over the course of the next few months to accomplish it. Don’t overthink over certain details and possible technical issues. There is a fire inside of you that you consistently turned off, thinking and hoping that the embers would eventually die out. The problem you are currently facing is that they never did. You might have an Aries North node. Being assertive and independent doesn’t come easy to you. Starting projects and following your instincts without second guessing yourself is hard. You tried to manage your truest and deepest desires but I feel like this past year, the desire to let it all out, probably influenced by the Lunar nodes being in the sign of Aries and Libra, urging you to just go for it, intensified to the point of suffocation. 

Your spirit guides are urging you to take this leap of faith, to walk confidently towards that goal like The Fool, without worrying if you run the risk of falling from a ravine in the process.

They’re telling you to start slow, to take a step by step approach while still keeping a strong mindset. You will come out victorious only if you’re able to keep pushing through the obstacles. What awaits you is a slow and steady marathon and growth. You can do it !

Oracle cards from the Green With Oracle pulled for you : 

16 - Memory / Rosemary => Leo energy

“Deeper levels of connection with people, concepts and plans are all areas that Rosemary works with. You are reminded to ensure you are in touch with your inner wisdom, paying heed to the past, and have cleared what needs to be released. Listen to your intuition as it is calling to you at present, but be wary of gossip or becoming tactless or too forceful.”

5 - Grounding / Potato => Virgo energy

“Explore the deepest, innermost areas of yourself and situations, as potatoes indicate energies that are calling you to look again at what you may have once missed and will help to bring stability. If you are looking for an answer, try pulling back a little to let things settle on their own first. Challenges at the moment may include ignorance, self-centeredness and forgetfulness, so make sure you are compassionate and focused.

You are called to use all the knowledge you acquired overtime to finally take action. You’re currently ending a cycle. You have enough wisdom to make a plan that will lead you closer and closer to tangible success. Trust your intuition and inner guidance. Don’t make rash decisions, but be decisive.

Just realized these two cards have the same message in the guide book ! This is a crazy coincidence. I used it many times and never paid attention. I didn’t even know two cards could have the same message. This is crazy lol.  Let me share the quote with you : 

 “When the world wearies and society fails to satisfy, there is always the garden”

Pile 2 

2 of cups, 3 of Pentacles, Queen of Wands, Ace of Wands, The Star, 2 of Swords, Page of Pentacles 10 of Pentacles

“The same light you see in others is shining within you too.”

(there are a lot of references to light, stars,shining,;. throughout the reading. Are you drawn to space ? or the galaxy ? You’re probably a huge astrology, and/or astronomy nerd. You are probably also a huge dreamer. Maybe drawn to the idea of being a starseed. You might have strong aquarius placements, or a populated 11th house. Pluto finally going in Aquarius this week is going to grant you so much luck and recognition ! You are about to step into your power for the next 20 years. Like a rocket, you are about to fly towards the stars. Are you ready for the take off ?  

“Don’t let the ugliness of others kill the beauty in you”

Something you need to hear is that you are about to be blessed by the universe ! Shooting Star by XG just started playing !

“Babe, if I give it my all, will it pay off?

Workin' overtime, no days off

All these shootin' stars in the dark (Yeah)

All these shootin' stars in the dark, make a wish (Yeah)

Takin' off from the ground, it's amazin'

So outta this world, I'm in space

Now I'm goin' up, headin' to the stars

Wouldn't trade it out for another life, no

Yeah, we ridin', ridin', ridin' on up (Woo)

So shinin', shinin', shinin' for sure

Ooh, ah, I'm lookin' so lavish (Shinin', shinin', yeah)

Ooh, ah, put in work like it's a habit (I'm lookin' so lavish)

It's a big move, every day's like a dream

Makin' big moves as I should 'cause I'm a queen (Ooh)

Ooh, ah, I'm lookin' so lavish

Ooh, ah, yeah, I bet you can't imagine (Oh yeah)”

You are shining on your way towards the stars. You are currently in your Queen of Wands and Ace of Wands energy, (Million Dollar Baby just started playing, you’re really sure of yourself and goal oriented right now).

You are bursting with confidence and assertiveness. You are determined towards your goals. You are in a “work hard, play hard” type of energy. If it’s not currently happening, you are about to have a huge burst of popularity on whatever you’re currently working on. Could be any project, a youtube channel, a business : there are a few people that are well respected in the industry you're aiming for that are eyeing you right now and that are about to offer you a contract/ a deal/ a collaboration. They have been probably on a hunt for someone like you for a while now and they were probably starting to lose hope until they came across your page/work/profile. They see you as a Star, you’re unique and like The Star in the tarot, you represent hope and faith to them/to their business/ association/school/company. They see your raw potential and they are going to help you refine it. 

Right now, you’re probably more focused on your work/ career/ school and nurturing your friendships, going out. You’re basically active in your social circles and this is benefiting you a lot ! 

An additional message you need to know is that you’re attracting a soulmate! It’s not necessarily a romantic soulmate, could be a friendship, a mentor.. Whatever the nature of this relationship is, it is going to fill you up with even more joy and hope! Your spirit guides are so proud of you and of all the work you have been putting in lately. Even though it was hard, you stayed patient and worked diligently towards your goals and desired reality. You did a lot of shadow work, tried your best to let go of the limiting beliefs that were holding you back. The Universe wants to tell you they are about to reward you.

Oracle card from the Green With Oracle pulled for you : 

40 - Positivity / Marigold : Leo energy (again you are shining and radiating confidence! Your solar plexus chakra and sacral chakra might be in overdrive currently! You are the main character in the play that is your life.)

 “A better understanding is indicated and a reason to be more optimistic about outcomes and the roads to get there. There are opportunities for nurturing encounters and a general aura of happiness pervades. Marigolds help us focus on the positive aspects of even the most difficult events. Your inner child may need to come out for a play, and be sure to take creative invitations. Be wary of not having all the facts and of emotional blockages.”

Pile 3

TW : this pile is a bit sad and angsty.

Before I pulled any cards for you, I already felt your energy overlapping in Pile 2’s reading. Your energy was really intense, deep and melancholic. Sad songs started playing, which completely contradicted pile 2’s energy (which was overwhelmingly positive). You are probably going through a really tough period right now and your soul is desperately crying for help, praying for a hand to come and save you. You have been having really painful realizations regarding your past, especially your childhood. You’ve recently realized that the child inside of you was buried alive. You’ve recently realized that you lost your essence. While growing up, you accommodated to the world around you, what people expected of you, what was “normal”, what was acceptable. By bowing down to other people’s expectations, you let your true self die slowly. You’ve been on autopilot for a while now, completely numb and empty. There is a bit of mirroring between this pile and pile 1 of suppressing one's authentic self and desires. 

Right now, you feel that your heart has been almost rotting inside. You lost all of your passion and your spark of life. But, don’t worry, what you need to hear now is that this painful realization is what is going to set you free. It is the first step towards a really deeply healing period where you are going to reconnect with your inner child. I heard : “The truth will set you free, but first, it will piss you off”. Did you read my last reading by any chance ? I am getting the energy that you chose pile 2 and 3, both or just one, or that you would resonate with those two piles for some reason. Don’t hesitate to check it out, you might find some comforting messages I heard ! 

Now, let me pull some cards for you. I don’t know why, but I felt drawn to use different decks than the ones I used for the first two piles. So, your pile will have different messages (no message from the Green Witch oracle for you)

 [took a little break before going to your pile. You probably need to slow down on your day to day tasks. I know it’s really hard in the productivity obsessed capitalist world we live in, and it is a huge privilege to be able to have enough time and energy to spiritually reconnect with ourselves, but this is what your spirit guides are urging you to do. You’ve got this.]

For you, I used the Occult Tarot and the Heavenly Bodies Astrology deck.

I only pulled 2 cards, one per deck (it was supposed to be like that but more cards sneaked in while shuffling haha) I feel like you need just a simple check up.

Cardinal - Instigation, Bravery and A pioneering spirit => your lost spark and childlike innocence will soon be reignited by a deep healing period. A new beginning is coming for you, but it will take some hibernating time before it comes. 

Sagittarius - Optimism, Exploration and Freedom

Trine - Angelic Support, Harmony and Perfect Flow

Reconnect to your higher self and spiritual side. Disconnect from the direct, yet understandable, dissatisfaction you feel towards life. Your embers that were slowly dying will relive, just trust the process, enter the deepest parts of yourself and keep exploring with positivity : your angels will guide you. There is a team of spirit guides and angels that are proud of your progress. Even if you don’t see it, they do and they want to tell you : There is light at the end of the tunnel, keep on walking.

The Hermit and the Ace of Swords :  The truth about your past came out, now is the time to meditate on those realizations and integrate them. Alchemize the pain in wisdom. You are about to come out stronger than ever. Isolate yourself, or at least try to keep your peace and have a lot of alone time (without completely stopping socializing altogether, humans are social creatures, connecting with people is important for our wellbeing) to ponder, analyze, decrypt all the patterns that you’ve been repeating. Reconnect with your inner child, look at photos of yourself when you were younger, delve deep into your childhood and childhood wounds. Maybe try to find what your attachment style is, anything that stems from your childhood that has been making you stuck in a rut these past years. Maybe, if you can, try to heal the relationship you had with your parents/parent or primary caregiver. Try to understand the nature of you guys’ relationship to see how it affects your self worth now. You've got this, trust me.

here is a link to my ko-fi.

[thatonebirdwrites]

(I wrote this article to help remind myself that even small actions like maintaining my microlibrary matters. I've included my methodology below and why I do it. I also includes some resources that go into further depth).

Archiving Our Works Offline

Since we are entering a fascist era where I live, archiving literature of all types becomes more pertinent. Especially with the current rise in book-banning and censorship (much of that focusing on marginalized groups like LGBTQIA people and Black and Indigenous people).

So how do we archive literature and keep knowledge safe from censorship or destruction by authoritarian regimes? There’s various methods, but I’ll speak of a way one can do this without a degree or beforehand knowledge of archival practices.

I’ve been archiving my eBooks and the studies I’ve read for a long time now, but it’s only recently I’ve been working on transferring them to a safer, offline drive. I also have a large physical library of books from various genres and covering many different topics. I collect books and can often find them cheap at book sale fundraisers, estate sales, sales in book stories, discounts in online stores, etc. 

Due to how extensive my library is, it’s inspired my friends to read new authors or genres or to tackle new topics; the archive gave us room for discussion. It also helped friends or community members who don’t have access to a library still access a digital copy by checking-out a copy from me. Now, one doesn’t have to share their archive with anyone, but I find it helpful to do so.

The goal however should not be to archive the most famous books — as if everyone did that we wouldn’t preserve much knowledge, so focus on unique and lesser known literature and media to preserve those too. This is why I focus so much on marginalized authors, who are not well known.

Archiving knowledge is why physical libraries in a town is so crucial. They are bastions of knowledge and archived books, media, and documents. Supporting your local library and fighting with your library to keep them open is crucial. This also requires fighting against book bans that would censor/restrict what a library is allowed to put on their shelves and archives.

What I’m suggesting here isn’t to replace libraries. It’s to augment the community’s archives of knowledge, media, documents, and books. Since Public Libraries are the forefront of the fight against banned books, it can be crucial to make sure the banned or censored books are preserved somehow.

While the authoritarian state may easily target Public Libraries, they can’t so easily target civilians, especially if the archival project is done quietly among small groups of people. These smaller projects are how some of the lost knowledge from before the 1930s Nazi book-burnings were salvaged; everyday people like you and me archived books and documents and kept them safe.

Experts often discuss four stages to censorship:

Stage one: Not allowing certain topics to be discussed. This is similar to laws in Florida, where speaking of LGBTQIA folks (trans in particular) can be penalized. This primarily impacts schools, but not necessarily the publishing industry as a whole.

Stage two: Bills that censor the Internet. The terrible KOSA bill (Kids Online Safety Act) is an example, where it sought to censor the existence of LGBTQIA and/or Black and Indigenous literature, media, and documents on the Internet. This is where sites that carry these media may start to go dark digitally.

Stage three: Penalizing anyone who sells, disseminates, or produces censored materials. This is when authors, publishers, bookstore owners, libraries, and others are attacked directly and penalized for having any literature or media the state deems ‘bad.’ The penalty can range from fines to jail time to death.

Stage four: book burnings. This is full-on blatant Nazi-esque book burnings and trashing of any institution or public archive of knowledge and media that holds the censored materials. For example, the Sex and Gender Institute in Germany in 1930s was the first targeted institution for book burnings by Nazis. A century worth of data on LGBTQIA (and specifically trans and intersex individuals) were lost. The only remnants that survived was documents smuggled out before the book burnings.

For the country in which I reside, we are hovering between stage one and two. I suspect by the end of these four years, we’ll be closer to stage three. This is why it’s crucial to keep an archive of knowledge, and if many people are doing this, the higher likelihood that more data can be preserved. It may seem daunting, but that’s why it’s helpful to work with other people and focus on a specific genre or topic for the archival project you start.

I personally started with Leftist books focused on anti-capitalism, anti-racism, building communes, and science fiction and fantasy by marginalized authors. I was a little broad in my choice of topics, but there’s no need to be this broad.

For example, one could pick to archive only trans literature or only literature by Indigenous authors. Also remember, you cannot archive every book in your chosen topic. You will be curating these archives to some degree because that’s inescapable. Do not fret over this or agonize over being unable to archive all the books.

Preserving some knowledge is better than losing it all. That’s the goal. Take it a step at a time. For me, I’ve been adding to my archive for over four years. It’s sitting at around 25 gigabytes, and it’s something I added to slowly over that time. I took breaks. I set aside time each month to update the archive, and I asked others for help during high pain times. (This was helpful during the start of Covid, where I started up a digital archive of studies. Friends helped catalog them.)

Preserving knowledge and literature is crucial in times where censorship and book bans are on the rise. There’s a lot of great knowledge, literature, and media out there that should be preserved for future people to read or watch.

When an authoritarian regime starts to censor the sharing of knowledge, data, and stories, this is when archival practices become crucial for the survival of people’s history, culture, and stories. Anyone can work on an archival project, though I recommend building up a group to help make it easier in the long run.

1. Hardware. 

Obtain a large storage drive, as in a 1 or more terabyte SSD drive. This will serve as the data repository for the digital portion of the archive. This drive must not be used regularly. It’s meant to store the data, then be placed in a safe storage area (at just the right temperature to avoid degradation of the drive).

Since books can range in size, multiple storage drives may be needed. If one is seeking to also rescue/archive media such as photographs, videos, music, podcasts, etc — then you’ll need larger storage drives. This storage drive should not be connected to the Internet in any way. It’s meant as an offline archival device.

Servers can also be used as archives, where the data is stored on the server, but a server is connected to the Internet. Depending on the circumstances, it may not be wise to have the back-up archive in the cloud. A back-up should be stored offline for any archive security.

Try to avoid cloud storage, especially if based in the USA. Do not use googledrive or dropbox or any similar cloud storage. If you must use cloud storage, always have an offline backup on your own SSD drives, and seek out a storage service that is based in a country with good privacy laws that has encryption embedded in it such as cryptpad.org.

Next make sure the computer hardware needed to open those drives are kept in top-notch shape. The digital archive will end up useless if there isn’t a device capable of connecting with the storage drive. Most devices with USB ports have the capability to connect to a storage drive.

2. File types.

You need to make sure the file types used in digital storage can be easily accessed by the majority of devices currently in existence. At this time of writing in January 2025, PDFs, ePub, .Doc, .mp3, .mp4, .wave, and .zip  are the most common file types and the most accessible. Could this change in the next decade? Maybe, but for now, focus on the most common file types that are accessible by the majority of systems.

3. Avenues of procuring the literature for archiving.

There’s two forms of archival data: Physical form and Digital form. 

For the physical form, that consists of print books, magazines, newspapers, photos, etc. These can be purchased online or in physical stores. They also can be traded for using a grey market system. (Grey market is where the item is obtained legally but then sold by someone who may not have a license to sell. Black market is when item is obtained illegally.) Physical forms of literature are the superior archival forms. Books can easily outlast our lifetimes if stored in a dry, lukewarm temperature storage space.

Digital forms do not have a physical version of the data. The storage device or server is the only sign it exists in the physical realm. Digital forms can be compressed into smaller file sizes for long-term storage. Buying eBooks is also cheaper than a print physical copy. There is also online PDF/eBook libraries where one can download the book for free (for legal reasons, I cannot recommend. For ethical reasons, I maintain archiving literature to make sure it doesn’t disappear or is destroyed by censorship is important in the long-term).

Once the item is procuring (in hopefully legal way as I in no way suggest breaking the law), then it becomes important to store it appropriately.

4. Storage of archival data and literature.

The storage drives in point 1 become crucial for the digital forms of literature and other data. Storage drives need to be kept in a relatively dry, cool space and kept offline. When I saw cool, I’m speaking of between 50 to 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Best to keep it at a steady temperature. I prefer 70 to 75 degrees Fahrenheit. This prolongs the shelf-life of your drive. To avoid stressing the drive by using it often, try to time the storage so that you store as many files as you can in one boot-up.

Another important component to using storage drives is the power of encryption. A drive can be encrypted, and the key needed to use it safely guarded. I’d recommend this only if there are concerns of increased scrutiny to penalize the possession of certain types of literature and archival documents and media.

For example, if a law is passed to ban trans or queer literature, there’s a few ways the law could be written: it can focus on who sells or prints this literature, which means possession of it is not part of the law. A second way is to penalize both selling, printing, and possession. It’s this latter form of law that needs to be watched out for, and if it comes to be, that’s when encrypting the drives and keeping that key safe is crucial.

I am not an encryption expert, however. So be sure to research encryption to determine the best way to build up this security.

For physical storage, the area needs to also be dry and in that same temperature range. Storage in bins such as metal or plastic bins can also help preserve the books and magazines. Finding a space big enough can be difficult. Sure, a storage center could be used, but if you lose access to it or one is raided, you’d have no control over rescuing your archive. Better to work with your community (and friends) to store it yourself, so you have control over who has access to it.

5. Building up these archival Libraries in your communities.

If this feels daunting, then take a step back and think about who you know that may be interested in assisting. You can then talk with those people and work out a system to spread the tasks and make the project less intense. By working together in community, you will lessen the risk of burnout, which is crucial since it can take anywhere from weeks to years to recover from burnout.

What is burnout? It’s when stress on the body and mind pushes one past their limits and causes illness — physical or mental illness. The body and mind are exhausted, and so activities becomes increasingly hard to do. The best way to avoid this is to share the burden in projects like these. Take breaks often to give your body and mind rest. Spend time with family and/or friends and/or pets to help recharge. Take some solitary time too.

Working with other people in community is crucial for surviving fascist regimes. We are not islands, as that saying goes, and even islands are not isolated and independent. For the island relies on the larger, interconnected ecosystems of earth to exist. 

Mariame Kaba, who wrote ‘We Do This Till We Free Us,’ wrote about her father and something her father shared with her: “You have a responsibility to live in this world. Your responsibility is not just to yourself. You are connected to everyone…. because the world doesn’t work without everyone.” 

We are interconnected with other people and the environment as a whole. No one is “self-made” as that is individualistic capitalist propaganda; all of us had people throughout our lives that taught us what we know, socialized us into society’s norms (or out of those norms), assisted us in hard times, and so forth. Humanity are inherently social creatures, so do not discount the power of community.

Resources

For ways to build up your own groups and communities, I recommend starting with Surviving the Future edited by Branson, Hudsen, and Reed and How We Show Up by Mia Birdsong. Group-building can be as simple as a book club, who meets monthly, deciding to take on archiving the books they read.

For further reading, the following article discusses archiving and rescuing trans literature, but it’s tips apply to everything I’ve discussed above and to many other types of literature: A Practical Guide To Resisting Censorship. It includes tips for ways people can work together to safeguard knowledge and literature, which is nicely organized based on your role in the literature ecosystem. 

Feel free to share thoughts and tips below. :)

[quarterlifekitty]

Desperate times

A sequel to this post and poll. Started feeling a little jigsaw-y…. Decided that I wanted to continue this post— what would it be like if their methods didn’t work? If they had to up the ante?

The top two winners of the poll won’t have to find out, because they’re getting you back! The rest? Well…

cw: dubcon/noncon, stalking, unhealthy relationships, somno, daddy kink stuff, intox, violence, baby trapping, and more stuff I don’t really know how to describe lol

❌Gaz is making a spectacle. Formulating the ultimate romantic gesture— a in a public place. He’s used your family and friends to lure you there on their invitation. Can’t you see how all of them want you to take him back? Look at him, on his knee in the middle of the botanical garden, promising to be better for you if you’ll just give him another chance. They’re all waiting on your response. Come on, luv, just give them what they want.

❌Soap is moving onto step 2, and that’s getting you drunk. Not so hard when you and your friends go to an upscale bar. He conveniently runs quite late meeting the 141 there, so to you and your friends, there’s just a handsome group of strangers sending some pretty girls free drinks. And everyone knows the girly drinks have the highest percentages. The rest of the gang will pick off your friends (payment for doing him this favor) and he’ll be ready to swoop in and take you home. Aren’t you lucky he was there? Just let him get you into bed. Ach, he really shouldn’t leave you alone in this state… best stay the night. A bit of advice? Don’t squirm when he gets to work— reminding you of the good times.

❌Ghost keeps it going strong with the scary voicemails. And they keep getting worse. The grunting, and threats, the desperation coating his voice. Not nice to keep your man waiting, birdie. They’re followed by photos. Printed out physically, slipped in your mail slot or under your door, bare. No envelope, no address or signature. All dated with black sharpie, all recent. You looking both ways, getting ready to cross the street. Changing out of your work clothes when you get home. His gloved thumb gently brushing your lip while you’re sleeping. His cum on your toothbrush. That one is dated as two weeks old. Just let him back into your life, birdie.

⭕️ Price feels his heart sing when he sees your name on the caller id. He gives the perfect, respectful response. It’s good to hear from you. Is everything alright? When he agrees to meet up with you, he doesn’t let it show how eagerly he’s been waiting for the chance. Tells you that you look good. Life must’ve been treating you well since he last saw you. He seems so genuinely pleased for you… He almost lets his calculated restraint slip when you say you’d like to give things another go. Asks if you’re sure. If he were being honest, in his eyes, things never ended. This was just a rough patch. But he’s glad you’ve come around to seeing it his way. He’ll have you moved back in by the end of the month, swollen with his kid by the end of the next. It’ll weigh you down, make it easier for him to slip the ring on.

⭕️ Honest to god, König sees the halo glow behind your crown when you meet up with him, and agree to a second chance. He promises that he’ll be better— you won’t want for anything, he’ll be so good for you. He’s acting like you’ve agreed to marry him. Maybe because in his mind, you have. That’s inevitable, seeing as he’s never going to lose you again.

❌ Nikolai starts getting a lot less… clean with your potential paramours. Gone are the bribes, the simple threats and ghosting— in are the bloody heaps of men that are just alive enough to twitch. This could all stop. Just be his good girl again, come back to your ivory tower. Papochka won’t be upset, he’ll just be glad to have you home. His patience for you is endless, but for the rest of the world? Well, do you really want to find out?