love me and dont look back

multifandom • ship & let ship • antis & minors dni!!

[stcrmade-illusions]

S T C R M A D E I L L U S I O N S

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐚 • 𝟐𝟐 • 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 • 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲/𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦

❝ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬’ 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐳𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛’𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 ❞

byf/dni • rules • about me • nav • m!list • mood boards

all writing, themes and layouts belong to @stcrmade-illusions unless stated otherwise, do not modify, translate or repost my work without explicit permission!

support black and other poc fanworks

[stcrmade-illusions]

the lads fandom and the insufferable and homophobic people in it!

my hot take on the never ending lads drama: homophobia edition!! my tictok

I wasn’t gonna say anything, because I really do prefer to stay out of drama but it’s getting really annoying, especially because people are going out of their way to be rude, disrespectful and mean all because they gotta stick up their ass and don’t know to shut tf up.

The way so many people are foaming at the mouth because there are people who ship the li’s together or talk about wanting a male mc is INSANE. 

“The company said bl isn’t allowed” lmao so yall just played a game of telephone and didn’t actually look further into it, huh? It’s not allowed in the OFFICIAL spaces, meaning the contests and the discord server. Pretty sure, if they cared about it outside of that, they would say something and start striking people down. 

“it’s an otome game, this game is only for women, they’re straight, it’s not canon!” blah, blah, f-ing blah!! 🙄 

WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF FANDOM WHERE PEOPLE WILL DO FANDOM THINGS LIKE IDK…NOT CARE ABOUT WHATS CANON. 😂

“fujos need to stay away, you’re just fetishizing gay men!” LMAO! honey bunnies, fujos don’t give af about what real gay men are doing. At least I know I certainly don’t! Fictional men 4 life 💕✌🏾

“Women can’t have anything!” ???? NOBODY’S GONNA TAKE THE GAME FROM YOU SHSKSKSKS. 😭💀 some of yall really act like these characters are real and it’s just weird. Maybe understand that what people do in FANDOM isn’t gonna magically change the characters or what the devs have planned! 

People are just having fun and for some reason, *cough* homophobia *cough* it REALLY gets under yall’s skin. If people having harmless fun bothers you THAT bad, you should go roll around in grass or something idk. 

Anyways, to those who ship the guys together or who have an interest for a male mc yall should absolutely not let these miserable people tell you what you can and can’t do in fandom! Draw and write whatever you want! Gay, trans, nonbinary, male mc, female mc, nonbinary mc, a lover that’s not mc, black, mexican, indian, Filipina etc etc

Do whatever and ignore them because while you’re having fun, they’ll be sitting in the corner whining about how they don’t like what other people are doing despite it not having an affect on them. 😂

This ain’t up for debate and arguing, your favorite man sucks dick and loves it. <3

[holdoncallfailed]

i think we should be meaner about people who are super reliant on chatgpt or whatever other AI. i think we should call them intellectually weak and emotionally stunted and mindless corporate shills who have no personalities and who are actively diminishing their capacity for human empathy and creative thought. and i think we should point and laugh at them and call them dweebs

[borednblk]

why have the black women of tumblr come to the conclusion that ghetto black women don’t deserve love or representation?

like what’s wrong with a character liking rap music, or liking to have her nails, lashes and hair done?

it’s like yall don’t realize that you’re being anti-black and elitist asf. like yall complain and complain about how writers on here never “write characters like you” and honestly if you feel that way then write it yourself?

ghetto black women never get good representation in media because of people LIKE YOU. like god forbid someone writes characters like the people in their everyday life or like them because they ALSO thought “i don’t get good representation either” like what the fuck is wrong with yall.

i love every single ghetto, loud, “stereotypical” (which makes no fucking sense) black woman that loves to have long nails, to wear wigs and braids, loves have their lashes done and ones built like megan thee stallion and speak aave.

i love every single shy, quiet, nerdy black woman that loves wearing her natural hair no rocking her natural face and the ones skinny, thick, fat, short, tall, and whatever tf else.

like there is some actual representation you SHOULD be fighting for like more PLUS SIZE reader rep that isn’t the stereotypical “i hate my body” ass shit , more DARK SKIN reader rep that doesn’t have anything to do with the reader hating her skin tone or going through colorism, and some TALL reader rep but bitch you’re pissy because they made the reader like to wear wigs …like bitch are you DUMB???

bashing black woman writers on here because YOU don’t feel represented is fucking stupid. they take times out of THEIR days to write on this app and they DON’T get paid for this! so for the love for all things that are holy, if i hear another one of yall say some this shit imma beat your ass.

[savage-sinister]

I make a post about how smut writers shouldn't be discouraged if their smut has a low hits to kudos ratio, because people are just afraid to kudos smut.

I get told in response that AKTUALLY smut has a low kudos to hits ratio because people are re-reading that smut.

I make a post about how if you're re-reading a fic a lot you should tell the author because they won't know that and will think no one likes their fic.

I get told that authors should just ASSUME that it's re-reads without needing to be told.

I post a smut fic that gets 100+ hits in its first 24 hours of posting (therefor no re-reads counted) and this smut fic with 100+ hits gets zero kudos.

I make a post about how if you read a fic on AO3 it creates a 'hit' and if the author gets a lot of hits without kudos or comments or response, the author will assume no one liked their fic.

I get told that authors should just ASSUME that everyone who clicks their fic likes it, without needing to be told that.

I make a post reminding people that fanfiction authors are not mind readers and that there's no way for them to tell a hit from a person who clicked a fic by mistake, or hated the fic, from a hit from a person who liked it, and if you don't tell the author you liked their fic they will assume you didn't.

I get told that authors aren't entitled to comments or kudos, or to a certain ratio of kudos to hits.

NO SHIT.

But if they don't get comments or kudos, they're gonna assume ya'll didn't like the fic!

[kindrasy-deactivated20250728]

may the person reading this (you 🫵) finish their draft this year

[comatosebunny09-deactivated2025]

— cw: fluff, silliness, highly suggestive, reader implied to be femme, overuse of terms of endearment (sweetie, sweetheart), mdni to be safe — notes: @leighsartworks216 this is your doing. *affectionately shakes fist*

“Sylus,” you begin one day on a whim, mindlessly scrolling through your socials.

“Yes, sweetie?” he purrs, enthralled by the deckled pages of a book, languidly massaging your foot in his lap.

“Are you ticklish?”

He chuckles something murky behind you. “Not that I am aware of.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

You don’t have to look back to sense the deadpanned look on his face. “I’ve lived in this skin for a long time, sweetheart. I think I would know if I were ticklish.”

You briskly sit up, maneuvering until you’re facing him. You lean closer with curious eyes, perched on the couch of his study like a feline.

“I don’t believe you.”

Sylus scoffs. Quietly sets his book down on the coffee table, a challenge tugging one corner of his mouth upwards. He holds his hands up, uncrossing his legs, something of mischief shining in his eyes as he sits back in an easy slouch.

“You’re welcome to see for yourself, sweetie.”

You don’t like how that sounds. How he drawled out the term of endearment. Still, you’re incredibly persistent. You’ve been exclusive for some months now, yet he’s still an enigma.

Your lips twisting with determination, you begin your examination. First, you start with the obvious places that would typically make people squeal—near his collarbones, in his armpits, down his sides, drag your nails inwards across his stomach. You peer up at his face. If he feels anything, he doesn’t reveal it, still wearing that insufferably smug look as he observes you.

You don’t find any sensitive zones on his torso. Just defined planes of muscle that make your pulse quicken and cause you to swallow past the dry film of your throat.

You proceed with your impromptu frisking, raking your nails down the sides of his devastating quads. Glance up. Nothing. Hmm.

You swivel your hands inwards, tracing over the inward trajectory of his thighs. He parts them for you, and it becomes evident he’s enjoying this. Enjoying tormenting you with the catastrophic shape of his body. Like he knows you know he feels good.

You cast him a pensive look. He feigns innocence with a shrug, signaling you to continue your investigation with the flit of his eyes.

So you do, creeping your fingers down the inner parts of his knees. Outwards. Pluck yourself from the sticky leather of the settee and sit between his legs on the floor, tracing over his calves and ankle bones.

You glance up. He still radiates complacency, yet his eyes hold something heavier than their usual, teasing weight. It’s something unmistakable, but you ignore it, instead testing the socked soles of his feet for any signs of vulnerability. Any minute twitches, any jolts or hitched breaths. No dice.

You relent with a sigh, crawling onto his lap. His heavy hands clasp around where thigh meets hip, keeping you steady, your thighs framing his.

“Guess you’re not ticklish,” you say with a solemn smile, twining your arms about his neck.

Why you thought the big, bad wolf of Onychinus would have any sensitive zones in the first place is beyond you. Maybe it was just an excuse to feel him up.

“I told you,” he husks affectionately. Voice crackles in that way that makes your belly swoop, and he closes a tender hand around your nape to draw you in for a kiss.

Your mouths part with a sticky click. And you’re dizzy and laughing something light as your foreheads press together, pheromones and fondness filling what little space lies between your bodies.

“Kudos for trying, sweetheart.”

You don’t enjoy being proven wrong, but you suppose it’s fine if you lose to him. Leaning back, you study his pretty features, the delicate sweep of his lashes as his eyes slip shut.

You thread your fingers through his hair, grazing one particularly vulnerable spot at the top of his cranium, and you don’t miss how he tenses beneath you. How he winces, releasing a sound so far-off and delicate, you’re not sure if you heard it in the first place.

Curious, you try for the spot again, evoking the same reaction, and Sylus’ hold around your waist tightens the slightest bit.

With a troublesome smile, you test the opposite side, garnering a similar response and—

Oh.

Oh, this.

Like the devilish little fiend you are, you scratch these newly revealed spots simultaneously, reveling in his response. How his carefully constructed composure begins to crumble beneath you.

He twitches and fidgets under your care, lips parting, a low, guttural sound dredged from his throat. He unconsciously bunts his head against your hands, leaning into your touch. You watch as a pretty, peachy flush creeps into his cheeks, staining the tips of his ears, and his brows scrunch in something of anguish.

Had you not known any better, you’d think you were scratching behind the ears of a feline. Had Sylus been a cat in a past life? You giggle mischievously at the notion before something very hot and prominent prods at the inner cut of your thigh.

Before you can investigate, Sylus ensnares your wrists in his hand, and he’s panting, glaring at you with those pretty, scarlet eyes to match the beautiful flush taking possession of his face.

His voice is hoarse. Smoky. Dangerous. You feel the buzz of it pooling warm in the lower reaches of your belly, leaking down between your thighs.

“You keep doing that, and I might have to retaliate, sweetheart.”

You swallow, your throat thickening, your mouth slightly open. Your pulse thrums a war cadence in your ears, and your breaths are short as desire spumes through you.

“You won’t do it,” you challenge, your tone husky. Shaky.

“Is that a challenge?” Sylus returns, his grip on your wrists slackening until he releases them.

He tugs you impossibly closer on his lap via the globes of your ass, and his weighted girth slides deliciously over the center of your thighs, eliciting a bitten-off sound from your mouth. You rest your hands on the defined planes of his chest to maintain a modicum of space, though it’s fruitless.

He draws your head down until your breaths intermingle, long, spindly fingers sneaking beneath your chin to moor you to the spot. He grazes your mouth with his, and a pleasant thrill ripples through you, your fingers pulling at the collar of his shirt.

“Why don’t I show you what happens to naughty girls who test my patience?”

[succulentsiren]

Get over the fear of being seen.

Stop caring about how you’re gonna be perceived. Stop doubting yourself. Stop aiming to be perfect. Stop ruminating.

Accept who you are. Hype yourself. Invest in yourself. Be audacious. Trust in the greater outcome. Allow yourself to be seen as you are.

[leaderincrows]

Sylus ❌ no biting

[sylus-beloved-wife]

Reminder: If you also want to participate in the boycott due to Infold's obviously unfair treatment of its players, don't spend on the banner for the first 3 days. Also, CN players have recommended not to post content related to the banner during this period.

If you think that you F2P players are not important in this situation, then you are wrong. Good activity in the game is as important as a monetary contribution. Therefore, if you don't spend money, but also want to contribute to the boycott, then spend less time in the game and also don't spend your wishes on the banner for the first 3 days.

There is no point in letting Infold's greed grow exponentially. All they need to do is make quality content, provide feedback, and make the game comfortable for all players, and that's enough for them to have a lot of money.

[animentality]

[maxswritingblog]

Blurred Moon

Rated: Mature for mentions of violence, but no nsfw

Pairing: Sylus/MC

Word count: 2,701

Tags: Drabble, Comfort no hurt, Soft!sylus, Mc is a transwomen

Summary: You end up getting injured in a fight with a powerful wanderer, Sylus showing up just in time to see the state you're in, rushes to get you taken care of.

Notes: Big ups to @pathogenic and @stcrmade-illusions on tumblr for the support! This one's dedicated to you guys :)

     You’d almost gotten it down. Fighting a wanderer this large alone was a task in of itself, just the flapping of its wings enough to push you back a few inches. When you had felt the fluctuations, part of you hoped it had just been your imagination. You hadn’t been sleeping well, haunted by visions of heat, and the ground dropping out from below. But you pushed being okay aside for the sake of work, and barely anyone had noticed so far. You had tuned your anger into a deadly degree of efficiency. 

 The avid wanderer screamed as it dove in your direction, feathers of a hardened crystalline material raining down as it arched. One landed just a foot away, and you realized just how much the creature dwarfed you when the object crashed into the ground. Playing a game of keep away had been the best strategy, though it inched you closer to exhaustion. Being in this space for longer than ten minutes was fatal for normal people, and you had already been here for just three, your chest starting to burn every time you took in air. Yet it wasn’t fairing well either, landing more often, not even attacking as it would struggle to take flight again after you put a litany of bullet holes in its wings.

     Over the course of the fight, you’d sustained a few minor injuries, mostly cuts and bruises from hard dives. Nothing too serious that a first aid kit couldn’t fix. Until the final moment. It landed once last time, and as you lined yourself up for the killing blow, the shot of your gun ringing out.

     You blinked and missed it.

    A shard of crystal flying in your direction, smaller than the others but no less lethal. It pierced your upper thigh as your bullet made contact, tearing through skin and muscle with scalpel-like precision, the wanderer screaming in pain before dissipating like all the rest. For the seconds of being alone in the universe, you let yourself scream, raw and full of agony. The shard stuck in your leg remained as you awkwardly fell to the ground, partly out of exhaustion and to get pressure off the fresh injury. You were pretty sure it had pierced all the way through, though you were starting to be in too much pain to feel around and check.

     You’d have to call for an ambulance, since walking wasn’t an option. Not that having a few close calls wasn't unnatural in the association. You just hoped Zayne wouldn't give you too much of a hard time.

    The fighting area fell away in particles, bringing you back to the park where you’d been when the fluctuations spiked, most passersby having cleared the area as to not get caught in the danger. Whenever those spaces were generated, it looked like viewing something underwater to any outside observers. What was worse was how some wanderer spaces could be more elaborate, acting as a separate unseen space. One minute you could be walking down the street, the next, stuck in a maze of a strong wanderer’s design. You tried not to think of the time you’d been trapped in one for almost a week, only being dragged out by Xavier being lucky enough to find you.

   Sometimes, you thought, this job was too much.

   The sun had set over the fight, the park swallowed by night, and you waded in its embrace. You pulled yourself to the closest park bench, just so you weren’t lying on the cold ground. Without looking you felt for your hunters watch to call, when the cadence of heavy footsteps broke your waning concentration. It was hard to see in the dark, but you already knew who it was just by his silhouette alone. He rushed into view, not bothering with a sly remark at the sight of your leg.

   “Looks like I got sloppy huh.” He would always call you out for that any time you’d have to fight together, though he ignored your retort.

   “You took that thing on by yourself?” He inspected your leg, careful to not touch the spike still lodged in place. He was trying to sound as calm as always, yet you picked up on the increasing panic in his movements.

   “I still killed it.”

   “And it almost took you with it.” His words were stone, like when you two first met in the N109 zone. 

   With almost no effort, he picked you up from the park bench, careful to not put pressure on your injury, though the movements still caused you to flinch, paining shooting outwards. You had your right arm wrapped around his neck to keep you steady as he hurriedly carried you to his car, laying you down across the backseat. 

   “Try not to move too much, “He commanded, “Are you feeling light headed at all?”

   You focused on breathing instead of the pain, staring at the ceiling  so you didn’t get car sick from vertigo. Now that you thought about it, everything was starting to feel a little floaty. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend you were at home. 

   Sylus’s fingers brushed your cheek a moment as he gently tapped your face.

   “You have to stay awake. No passing out.”

   You blinked, and he’d moved to the drivers seat, already speeding down the road.

   You were already losing time, without even meaning to. You were starting to feel so very cold.

  “Eyes on me. We’re almost there.”

  You looked around as best you could at the car’s interior, faintly noting the trails of blood on the seating, dripping onto the floorboards. The glow of passing street lights kept blinding you as the drive continued, and with difficulty you moved your arm over your eyes to block it. Your whole body moved like dead weight, your heartbeat rushing in your ears. It was so loud you couldn’t even hear Sylus trying to talk to you, or feel the lurch of the car coming to a halt at a stop light. You figured he wasn’t about to risk taking you to a regular hospital, but to someone in the N109 zone. Less questions, and supplies that most hospitals wouldn’t have much access due to legality and shortages.

   With the waiting, you fell further. Trapped in memories of smouldering buildings, screams of dying strangers, and a stabbing pain in your chest. It always came back in the hard moments, when your determination and resilience would falter. A past you wanted to perhaps not forget, but not let define you. But damn it when would it finally be enough? Would there ever be a day that wanderers would stop attacking? If that came to pass, then would any of this even matter?

    Your head swam in the dark, and you could only hope that you’d stopped getting blood all over Sylus’s car. It’d be a bitch to get out of the leather.

   “It hurts.” You didn’t know or care if anyone could hear you. But you needed to say it. You’d lost so much, and could barely remember any of it. All it got you was an aether core stuck in your chest, a condition that could give you power, but kill you in your sleep. It was all bullshit, even if you signed up for it by being a hunter.

   Sylus kept looking back in the rearview, watching your face pale out, eyes searching the car for who knew what. If he had been faster, neither of you would be in this position. And he already lost you once, so long ago. The last thing he wanted to do here was do so again. His car roared down the road, help finally in sight, one of many back alley clinic coming into view. 

   You didn’t feel him carry you out of the car. You didn’t know how he kissed your forehead before stepping inside and handing you over to the overseeing doctor, who was ready and waiting to take you in. You’d missed him calling them up in the car, desperation dripping in his words.

   “Let me know when you’re done.” He told them, “And don’t let anyone else see her. She’s under my protection.”

   Later, when you woke up again, it was to comfortable sheets, and the awkwardness of wrappings around your thigh, sans wanderer spike. Your head was swimming whatever meds they’d given you during treatment.

   He was right by your side, of course, sleeping in a chair, arms folded. The clinic was quiet, in spite of the setting it was placed within.

   You tried sitting up, careful to leave your injured leg extended. Without a doctor's input you didn’t want to cause any further damage. Your head was still groggy, probably from anesthetic, and all you wanted was the world to stop spinning any time you blinked. As much as you’d rather be in a regular hospital, the darker atmosphere was surprisingly calm and easy on the eyes. Beside the bed was a side table with all of your belongings, guns included. The magazines had been taken out, though not emptied, and placed beside them, along with your hunters watch. With some difficulty you grabbed it, and checked both the time (You had been out for the last three hours) and for any calls from HQ. 

   Aside from a message confirming the wanderer you’d killed was very much dead, nothing else had come in. While the silence was nice, you worried work was going to jump down your throat for going dark. 

   The N109 Zone wasn’t exactly close to the park you had been in, though you figured Sylus didn’t want to get you or himself in hot water just waltzing into a standard hospital, or running into Zayne, who’d definitely ream your ass for not being careful.

   “Welcome back kitten.” the suddenness of Sylus’s words got your attention, as you looked over to see him getting up to meet you.

   “How are you feeling?”

   “Could be better.” 

   “I’ll have you stay at one of the safehouses with me while your leg heals up. Doctor said you’ll be out of commission for a few weeks.”

   You pulled the sheets aside to get a better look, your leg exposed from the injury down from where they’d cut your pant leg off to get to the spike. The more you stared at it the more it ached, and you couldn’t help but grimace.

   “What constitutes ‘a few’ exactly?”

  “Three. Bed rest and physical therapy, doctors orders. I’d imagine you don’t want that leg slowing you down permanently, Miss Hunter.”

  You nodded in understanding, till a thought snapped into place,

  “Hold on. I was at the main park in Linkon. How did you know what was going on?”

  “I happened to be in the area. I was leaving an event when I saw the chaos. Normally I wouldn’t have bothered, but then I caught a glimpse of you fighting a wanderer the size of a truck. You did well, all things considered.”

  “And yet I feel damned by your faint praise. But thank you.”

  Sylus eyes shot up, “A thank you , that’s new. Didn’t think you’d ever fall to that.”

  “Do you want me to tell you to go fuck yourself instead?” You retorted jokingly  “Because I can change that.”

   All he did was chuckle, “I’ll take the thank you instead, kitten. And you're welcome.”

  You leaned back in the clinic bed, mulling over the state of it all. You'd have to find a way to grab your things, a pang of worry in the pit of your stomach forming from getting your medication, or at least of Sylus finding it. He hadn't made any comments snide or outloud yet, but the discomfort of not knowing remained. You hadn't told him yet.

    In your day to day life, Caleb had known and been supportive, even if he struggled with the changes. Zayne had helped along the way, sure that your HRT shots didn't cause any undue stress on your heart condition. Grandma had accepted you from the start, just happy you would be able to smile for yourself for the first time since adopting you and Caleb under her wing. The association knew, as you'd had to disclose that when it came time to cover medical, and they surprisingly didn't make a bug fuss over it. They only wanted to know when you'd started, which had been just before joining the academy.

   “I’d imagine you'll want to get some things for your stay,” Sylus had taken a seat back by the chair from earlier, “so just let me know what you need and I can get it for you.”

   You struggled to find the words needed, without making it weird. The last thing you wanted was him dumping you here with no way home. If you didn’t give too much detail, maybe he’d think it was just for your heart.

   “I’ve got medication I need from the apartment. And I'd rather get them myself instead of making you do it.”

  Your face must have been flushed, because Sylus hadn't protested.

   “If that's what will make things easier, then just say the word. I won't get in your way. I'll even stay by the door so you can get them in private.”

   Something about the way he said it clicked in your brain, gears spinning.

   He'd unequivocally figured it. Known and not cared, still watched over you and loved you the same. Yet it still felt too good to be true. Too clean, too simple. You were more familiar with the silent anger that usually came around with your existence. 

  Yet unbeknownst to you, Sylus's love for you hadn't wained, even with the passage of time and timelines. He hadn’t told you, and wasn’t sure of how.

   No matter what you looked like, or what body you were in, he loved you for eternity and back. Maybe one day he'd tell you, or you'd remember, like that day when he played the organ and filled that empty church with notes from a song you don't remember writing.

   You hadn't told him how angry the notes sounded, full of a want it's writer could never reach.

   Whatever you two were, then and now, it ran deeper than you realized. You sat up fully, checking yourself over. Scrapes had been disinfected and bandaged, and while you couldn’t see them, you could feel you’d have some very mean bruises in the coming days. 

  “I appreciate that.” The words came out thick and clumsy, “Sorry for the trouble.”

   You saw his eyes soften in the clinic’s harsh light, “It’s no problem at all.” His words were gentle, careful in their placement. You took the chance to ask the big questions, knowing you’d never be able to rest if you didn’t.

   “How long have you known?”

   You couldn’t bare to look at his face, see what his reaction could be. Did he understand what you meant? 

    Were you wrong to think he knew?

   The silence felt like it stretched for an eternity, and you quickly started to feel nauseous. Even if his words were kind, you weren’t sure if you could fathom accepting it. It felt too improbable. 

   He came back over, kneeling beside you and taking your hand.

   “Long enough you don’t need to worry about it. I saw your medical paperwork by mistake when I stayed at your place a while back. You’d forgotten to put it up.”

   “Were you angry?”

   “I was surprised, sure, but not angry. If I were you I would have done the same.”

   He pulled you into a hug, albeit a little awkward from the bed being in the way. He probably expected you to cry, yet all you did was rest your head against his chest in relief. 

   “Above all, I’m just glad you’re okay.” His voice was so quiet you almost missed it.

   “Nothing else matters. Just know I’ll always have your back, whatever happens.”

   You both could hear the nurse down the hall now, probably coming back to give an update on your condition. Before the door opened you held him close one more time, in a silent grateful thank you.

[sunsetagain]

Innocent Birdcage

(more like visualized Bloodnight Blaze to me UwU)

[comatosebunny09-deactivated2025]

I love how half the fandom's like, "Yaaaaas, give us bad boy biker K-Pop idol werewolves! Choke me, daddy!" and the other half is like, "Man, what the fuck is this?"

[stcrmade-illusions]

INFOLD FINALLY SERVICING THE REAL FREAKS!! 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

[stcrmade-illusions]

This new event…I look forward to all the omegaverse content that will come from it. I will also be contributing : )

[puppyboyforest]

"oh my god that's so fucked up" I say like I'm not extremely horny about it

[locowolf-deactivated20250811]

compared myself to people my age who are so much farther ahead in life than me