#I guess I don't know what I was expecting

[witchthewriter]

Simon Riley who took you home after a night out, expecting sex but you couldn't go through with it.

You were both already naked, your hands on his chest, straddling the large man when you just ... couldn't do it. Being a virgin at this age felt embarrassing, and tonight you wanted to get rid of the title.

Simon, saw the dismay on your face and wrapped a blanket around you. Your face was bright red from embarrassment, god, what was holding you back?

"it's alrigh' love."

You felt the need to leave. You hadn't given him what he wanted...so you guessed it was time to hit the road.

So, both of you got up to do very different things.

You started putting on your dress and shoes, but when Simon turned around, he had a pair of his shirts and large sweat pants for you to wear.

His gruff voice was so gentle.

"You don't 'ave to leave..."

You weren't expecting this. There were no alarm bells, nothing in your stomach to say 'run.' But Simon Riley knew the dangers that women faced and he never wanted to make another woman feel that way.

"I uh, just want you to know, you can do whatever you like. I just ... fucking hell. What I'm tryin' to say is, I'd like to spend more time with ya...if that's alrigh' by you..."

He offered you a shower, and god did you want one. Surprisingly enough, Simon had pretty good products in his bathroom. None of that 30 in 1 shampoo. Clean towels. Everything was in perfect order; neat, tidy.

When you had changed into the perfectly oversized clothes (he is like 6'6?), and walked downstairs, Simon was waiting on the lounge with various drink options, and a sheepish grin.

"Thought you'd need some water, but I also have whiskey, coffee, tea..."

"Oh, thank you! Um, I'm fine with water...and maybe a tea."

"Woman after me own heart," he said with a grin and went on to make the best cuppa he's made in his life.

[talkativeanxiousturtle]

I mean. People are doing just that.

"I want a self indulgent fanfic of my favorite ships and tropes I like, but I really hate writing, and I don't want it badly enough to pay someone for that. Oh well. Guess I'll have to keep imagining it. Same as that cool fanart to know what I would look like as a Disney princess! I don't care enough to pay or wait for it, but it'd be neat."

AI: exists.

"Oh hell yeah!"

Like don't get me wrong. I support artists 100% here, and I do think AI is very much a problem. But I'm tired of hearing the same "then why don't you just do it yourself you lazy prick! Anyone can draw! Anyone can learn! It's fun!" yeah I think doing algebra is great fun, but that doesn't mean everyone WANTS to learn/be good at it. To be good at art, you have to dedicate HOURS, YEARS of your life to it. And for some people, drawing/writing isn't fun!! At all!! Why are we expecting that of them? And let's be fr. The people using AI were NOT the people commissioning artists before. The big corporations are the ones doing that.

And the whole fucking "why would I bother reading something you weren't bothered enough to write"... My guy, most people don't CARE about us writers. We're barely respected in OUR circles, what do you think it's like outside?? Most people I know couldn't name me three authors if held at gunpoint. They don't care. They just care about the content, the characters doing the right trope that appeals to their self-indulgence.

People don't care about artists. They care about content. It's horrible, but this is just a reflection of that. So your arguments about "protecting artists" are meaningless. If you want to defeat AI, find a new angle.

no matter what your most embarrassing moment in life is, at least it’s not having fucking chat gpt write fanfic for you bc you’re too lazy to do it yourself

[littl3cloud]

Breaking the Ice

Pairing: Hockey!Vi x reader

Request: more loser vi PLEASE i imagine vi with a pretty pink partner like very fem and the diff between then is so big also teasing vi while shes too shy to talk back (can be NSFW or not)

Warnings: 18+, Loser!Vi, Hockey!Vi, major pining, sweet confession

Read part 1 here!

Vi starts hanging around you more after that night.

Not in a creepy, overbearing way - at least you don't think so - but in a way that means she suddenly appears wherever you are, like a dog that's realized it's finally allowed inside the house and isn't sure if it's gonna get kicked out again.

At lunch, she hovers a little too long before sitting down next to you. After practice, she miraculously ends up walking the same way back to the dorms as you. And when you send her a stupid tweet at 1 a.m. she responds immediately, like she was just waiting for an excuse.

Even after your 8 a.m. you find Vi waiting outside your building with your usual drink order in her hand. Every morning since the game.

Caitlyn, of course, thinks its hilarious.

"You're ruining her life, you know," she tells you, watching as Vi trails behind the two of you at a respectful but painfully obvious distance. "She was somewhat normal until you."

You shoot Vi a glance over your shoulder. She quickly looks away, pretending to be fascinated by the vending machine like it's the most interesting thing she's ever seen.

"She was never normal," you say, grinning.

You start pushing Vi's buttons.

Not in a mean way, but because Vi is so easy to fluster, so utterly lovestruck when it comes to you, and it feels like a crime not to tease her.

You show up to her games wearing her jersey.

You lean in just a little too close when you talk to her, watching the way she struggles to keep eye contact. And worst of all, you touch her.

Nothing scandalous - just fleeting and casual. Brushing your fingers against her when she hands you your drink. Fixing the hem of her hoodie when it gets bunched up while you're studying. Resting your head on her shoulder after a long day, just to feel the way she freezes beneath you.

Every time, Vi looks like she's fighting for her life.

But the thing is - Vi is getting comfortable.

At first you barely notice it. She still stumbles over her words, still gets red when you look at her for too long. But, she starts stitting closer, stops second guessing every time she texts you first. And then one night it happens. You finally see the shift, subtle but undeniable.

You're lying on your bed again, scrolling through your phone while Vi sits beside you, flipping through the textbook chapter that she definitely not reading.

She lets out a heavy sigh, dropping her head against your shoulder. It's so natural, so casual, that for a second you think you imagined it.

You glance down at her, expecting the usual blush, the usual panic, but she just stays there, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

"Vi," you say, amused.

"Mm," she hums, body unmoved.

You poke her cheek. "You good?"

She finally looks up, blinking at you like she just realized what she did. Then, instead of bolting like you expected, she gives you a shy, lopsided smile and you feel something in your chest stumble.

────────────────────────────────────────────

The party is in full swing by the time Vi gets there.

She's not even sure why she showed up, parties aren't her thing and neither is squeezing through a too-hot, too-loud crowd of drunk undergrads. But you invited her. And of course, Vi couldn't say no.

She told herself she'd just swing by to say hi, and leave before the party got too crazy. But now, she's nursing a drink that Sevika forced into her hand, mindlessly nodding at the conversation. Until she sees you.

Pink is all she can think of.

Not the soft, subtle kind you wear when you're feeling casual, but the kind that demands attention. Daring, bright, dangerous. And damn does it look good on you. The outfit is the perfect combination of revealing and effortless, and Vi's brain short-circuits so fast she doesn't realize she's staring.

Sevika follows her gaze and snorts. "You're hopeless."

Vi drags her eyes away from you for just a second to glare at Sevika. "Shut up."

You spot Vi before she can recover, and the slow, knowing smile that spreads across your lips makes her want to die. You don't head straight toward her, of course. That would be too easy.

Instead, you work the room first. Stopping to talk to friends, grabbing a drink, effortlessly existing while Vi struggles to remember how breathing works. Vi can tell you're enjoying this.

By the time you finally reach her, Vi's drink is forgotten in her hand, her pulse racing a little too quickly.

"Hi, Vi," you say, voice honey-smooth.

Vi swallows hard. "Uh, hey."

You tilt your head, watching her like you're waiting for something. Maybe for her to say something about the outfit you spent hours picking out, or maybe for her to stop looking like she just saw God himself. Instead, she stares.

"You okay there?" you tease, reaching out to tug at the loose strings on the sleeve of her hoodie. She should say something. Anything.

But your fingers barely graze her wrist, making her jerk closer into your fleeting touch.

Sevika mutters something under her breath, something like Holy Shit, and wanders off out of secondhand embarrassment. You don't mind though. In fact, you're delighted to be alone with Vi.

"You like my outfit?" you ask, spinning just enough so that your skirt flutters in the breeze. Vi nods, too fast. "Yea."

You grin at her response, watching her struggle to keep her cool,m but the way her eyes dart at everywhere but you say otherwise.

"Mm, just 'yea'? I guess I'll take it as a compliment," you tease, stepping a little closer, feeling the tension between you thicken.

Vi swallows again, this time with a little more effort. She looks like she's trying to stop herself from running, hand grabbing her drink tightly. "It's... uh, it's nice. You look nice."

"Thanks," you say softly, your gaze never leaving hers. You hesitate before continuing. "You look good too, you know." You notice her posture immediately shift, her shoulders tensing. Vi lets out this weird half-laugh, like she's not sure if you're joking or being serious.

"I-uh. You don't have to lie."

"I'm not lying," you say, your voice low and playful. "But if you want, I can be more specific. If it'll make you believe me, of course."

Vi immediately erupts into shades of pink, her eyes darting around the room like she's waiting to be rescued by something. But all she gets is the hum of the music in the background and the muffled chatter of people around you. It's just the two of you now and you're not going anywhere.

"You're so cute when you're flustered, Vi," you murmur, and this time, there's no hiding the way she freezes. She tries to say something, anything, but the more she keeps pushing the more she stumbles through her words. She can barely look at you now, but you can see it. That tiny barely there moment where she realizes she is absolutely stuck in her spot, unable to leave you even if she wanted to.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of trying to collect herself, Vi meets your gaze, her eyes wide but soft.

"I like you," she says in a voice barely above a whisper. She sounds almost like she's surprised herself. "You know that right?"

It takes you a second to process, your heart thudding in your chest and her soft confession.

"Yea, Vi," you reply, voice full of unspoken understanding. "I know."

Vi finally looks at you, her face flushed but determination flickering in her eyes. It’s a little shaky, but she’s trying, really trying. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, like she’s preparing herself for something big.

"I, I don’t do this whole… party thing,” she begins, voice still a little unsteady, but there’s a hint of something else, something more confident.

“I don’t usually know how to… you know, be around people. But I like being around you. A lot.” She rushes the last part out, and the words tumble over each other, like she’s trying to say it before she loses the courage.

You blink, momentarily taken aback. This wasn’t the shy Vi who couldn’t look you in the eye. This was something else, something almost bold, despite her stumbling delivery. You can’t help but grin, feeling your chest tighten at how adorable and endearing it is.

“I’m glad you like being around me,” you tease, stepping closer again, a small smirk curling on your lips. “But you know, Vi, if you really wanted to impress me, you could do better than just... blushing all over the place.”

Her eyes widen at your challenge, and for a split second, you think she might completely lose it—but then, to your surprise, she straightens up, as though gathering all her courage.

"I can do better," she says with a little more conviction than you expected, even though her hands are still trembling slightly. But her eyes are locked onto yours now, and for the first time, you see her take a step toward you, almost as if to close the gap.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? I’m waiting."

Vi takes another shaky breath, her posture stiff but her eyes unwavering. "Okay," she says, voice slightly hoarse, but there’s an undeniable spark in it. "I think... I think you're really pretty. And I don’t care if this is all weird. I’m not good at this stuff, but I... like you. A lot. I just—” She pauses, and for the first time, she laughs at herself. "God, I’m really bad at this, huh?"

Your heart swells at the confession. Despite her awkwardness, there’s something so genuine about her. It makes you want to pull her closer, to reassure her that her words are enough.

“You’re doing just fine,” you say softly, your voice almost a whisper.

Vi’s eyes soften, her lips curling into a tentative smile. It’s not the shy, uncertain smile she usually gives you. This one is more open, more sure of itself, even though her cheeks are still flushed. “Yeah?” she asks, her voice quieter now, almost a little vulnerable.

“Yeah,” you confirm, stepping just a little closer, your hand brushing against hers. “You’re doing great.”

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You just stand there, the sounds of the party buzzing around you, like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you. Vi’s breathing steadies and all you can focus on is the warmth between you.

She’s still a little awkward. Still that lovable, somewhat awkward mess of a girl you’ve gotten so used to teasing. But there’s a quiet strength in her now, something more certain.

She takes another step closer, her hand brushing against yours more confidently, you know that this—whatever this is—isn’t just a passing moment.

You smile at her, a soft, almost intimate smile, and Vi hesitates only a moment before finally meeting your gaze.

“You’re really pretty too,” she says again, this time with more confidence.

The words settle between you two like a secret shared, and as you both stand there, the world fading away in that small bubble of connection, you realize something: Vi may still be a bit of a mess, but she’s your mess.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[wlwsoccerfics]

Told you not to overdue it (RenéeSlegersXReader)

AN: Here it is, the RenéeXReader fic. Hope you enjoy. Let me know If you want more of the Team moms.

Summary: you thought it was just a normal day at Arsenal but then your next Patient turned out to be your wife.

You just finished taping Lias shoulder when you got the call from one of the Assistent Coaches that someone needed your help on the Trainings Pitch. Cause they have Hurt their ankle.

You fully expected it to be a Player. But instead you were met with your wife sitting on the grass, holding her ankle.

"hi." You Said softly to the Team and then looked at your wife.

"Renée, my love. What happened?" You asked and kneeled down in front of her.

"i was warming up with the Girls and then i slipped and my ankle buckled." She told you. Sighing softly. The Girls were standing close by, watching the two of you. While you checked out your wife's ankle.

"i told you not to overdue it ,love." You kissed her head quickly before putting an ice pack on it.

"i know ,i know!" She answered and blushed a bit.

"it looks like just a sprained ankle. Now we ice it for some minutes and then i will help you up and we see how it goes. But i recommend taking it easy no matter what!" You explained. "Better safe then sorry!" You added on.

After a few minutes of icing the Injury, you wrapped her ankle up with a Bandage and then helped her up.

"it only is a little discomfort left! So guess that's good!" Renée told you. You chuckled softly.

"it is good indeed! But when you get home all you gonna do is stay off that ankle and cuddle with Lio, your three months old son, he was the biggest joy of the two of you. Your Mom was currently watching him.

"next time you have to bring him to practice. We Miss Out Arsenal Baby!" Emily said softly.

"agreed!" Leah answered.

"we promise we bring him with us tomorrow!" You told them. You have given birth to him and went back to work rather quickly. Taking him with you in the Physio room for most of the day.

You grabbed some crutches for your wife just in case so she could finish the practice with the Team. Going back to your office. Filling out some paperwork.

Around two hours later you and Renée were on your way home. Your Mom handed you over Lio when you got home and asked your wife what happened. She was clearly concerned. She even offered to take Lio over night If needed but you told her it was okay.

Renée was lying on the couch. Ankle resting on a pillow. You had Lio in your Arms, nursing him. Your wife was gently stroking your sons little head with one finger.

"i can't believe how perfect he is!" Renée told you.

"just like his mommy!" You stated and smiled at your wife. Your wife blushed.

"No ,he is perfect like his momma!" Your wife replied. Smiling back at you.

It was 20 minutes later when the doorbell rung and you opened it. Chuckling softly when you saw some Girls of the Team standing there with Pizza. It happened alot that the Younger Ones would just Show Up. But usually you would feed them and you would give them Life advice. You basically were Bonus parents to them. Katie, Kyra and Jenna walked inside after you held the door open for them.

"hi Renée, we brought Pizza so you didn't have to cook! Also Katie has to tell you something!" Jenna explained.

"thanks for bringing over food! That's nice. But before we eat let's talk. Is everything okay?" Renée asked. They sit down and you hand them their favorite sodas. Yes you do always have some of those at Home.

"Tell Moms, Katie!" Kyra said half jokingly.

"i uh got hurt a few days ago but didn't tell anyone and it got worse! I don't think i can Play in the next Game!" Katie stated. You look at her.

"what happened? Where are you hurt?" You wanted to know.

"i slipped and fell on my back. I managed to pull through during practice but after i showered today i almost slipped again and the pain going through my Body was just terrible!" She admitted. You sigh softly.

"Katie, why didn't you say something right away? I mean you could have gotten it fixed already." You told her. "Show me exactly where it hurts?" She showed you and you took her to your little Office where you had everything you needed to fix her back. You had her lay down and put everything back in it's place and she immediately felt relief.

After that you all ate the Pizza, while the girls took turns holding Lio, who loved the Girls attention. He was such a smiley little boy. You also watched a movie together. It was too late to drive home though so you let them sleep in the guest bed room. Which basically was a room for the Arsenal girls at this point. You then put Lio to bed before you helped your wife to bed as well.

[capricornlevi]

Gojo with his s/o who went missing for MONTHS, but comes backs somehow?

(Bonus: he thought that s/o was dead ;-;)

ten years previously

"Promise me you won't be too mad when I die."

Satoru furrows his brow when he hears you, tilting his head to the side to look at you funny.

You're both sprawled out on the grass, lying flat on your backs and gazing at the blue skies shining over Jujutsu Tech. Outside the school grounds, mountains line the perimeter like battlements, but you don't feel locked away. You feel at peace with everything: your choices, your circumstances, the company you've kept. The warm summer air wraps around you like an embrace.

What once seemed so alien to you, so frightening, is now your reality. It doesn't scare you as much anymore.

You're shoulder-to-shoulder with Satoru, laying about on the soft grass, not caring if your uniform gets wrinkled as you roll over to your side, propping your head against your elbow and meeting his gaze.

You've both ditched Yaga's class to hang out in the training field, and the sounds of the second-years laughing from the nearby dorms are the only noises you can hear apart from the distant chirping of birds.

That is, until Satoru objects indignantly:

"What are you talking about?"

You smile, not wanting to spoil the otherwise peaceful day. You hadn't brought it up to be negative, but it had to be said; if you don't do it now, you'll never get the courage to do so.

"You know what I mean. You are my best friend in the entire world, and you know that I am not going to last as long out there as you will -- on missions, fighting."

Somewhat irritated, Satoru reaches a hand up to flick you on the nose. You swat him away, laughing, which makes him crack a smile.

"Our last day before graduation, and you want to focus on this morbid shit?" he asks, his tone light and jokey but with an undertone of seriousness that only you ever recognise.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not planning on giving up," you elaborate, distractedly picking a nearby daisy. You don't touch the petals, twirling it by its stem so that it spins in your fingers. "I'll give it my all for as long as I can, but I'm just saying ... don't expect me to be fighting by your side when you're one of the ninety-year-old elders."

"If I turn out like them, then I'll need you around so you can shoot me."

You make a sound that's half-scoff, half-laugh. "I'm being serious."

"So am I," he says, eyes fixed on yours. "Completely serious. You've excelled at every test. We couldn't have won the goodwill event without you. You've completed dozens of missions by now, missions that even I found tricky. What's bringing this on now?"

You shrug, still peering down at the flower in between your thumb and index finger. "Just a feeling, I guess."

"A feeling?"

You hum in the affirmative, and Satoru sighs.

"Want to know my reply, then?" he retorts, still quite serious.

Your head snaps back up at that.

Satoru sits up, cross-legged, scanning your face as though he's committing it to memory. Then, he carefully plucks the daisy from your hand and tucks it behind your ear.

"If you die, I'll be well and truly pissed."

---

The only part of that mission that Satoru really, truly recollects, the only crystal-clear memory in an otherwise blurry mess, was the feeling of Yaga's hand on his shoulder when he arrived at the gates of Jujutsu Tech.

Alone. He arrived back alone, for the first time ever. Three years after graduation and he'd never even had a close call, much less return in this state, and without you.

The whole experience felt so strange, for lack of better word. It felt like it was happening to someone else.

He had explained what had happened, the words leaving his mouth without much thought on his part. His voice sounded cold, detached, unrecognisable.

"And it took her," is how he finished speaking, he's pretty sure. Again, the details are hazy. He doesn't think that he bothered telling Yaga that he tried everything he could out there. That he pushed himself until he nearly broke. That he tried, at the end, to put himself in the curse's reach, to step into harm's way if it meant you got even five minutes more in this world.

Yaga already knows all that.

Thankfully, his former teacher doesn't waste time with empty words of condolence. He just rests a hand on Satoru's shoulder, the gesture doing more than any speech could.

It's not enough, though. Nothing ever would be.

---

Satoru prides himself on compartmentalisation. He has to do it to survive, he'll drown otherwise, and luckily, he's quite good at it. When Yuji asks him if he's ever lost someone to a curse, eyes wide with concern, he's able to wave off the boy's worries. He says yes, sadly, he's lost people, but that it's part of life, and that the only way to deal with it is to get stronger.

He doesn't sugarcoat it, but Yuji wasn't expecting him to. The boy just nods and continues his training. Satoru, meanwhile, resumes his meandering around the classroom, whistling along to some song that's been stuck in his head.

The only person you can control is yourself. Everything else just ... happens.

That's the closest thing he has to a personal philosophy, and it's a pretty foolproof one, having gotten him through some of the bleakest, emptiest years of his life.

He's done well for himself, considering. He's not as brash and impulsive as he was when he was younger. He's dedicated his life to preparing young sorcerers for the world out there, trying to keep them safe as long as he can. He lives a comfortable life and keeps himself entertained but focused, constantly motivated to keep moving forward.

Truthfully, the only time his worldview comes close to being threatened is when he sees a patch of daisies growing in the grass.

Whether out walking through the school grounds, or on a mission in the countryside, or on a faculty trip to the botanic gardens in the city, he's struck by them every so often. He tries to avert his eyes when he glimpses the tell-tale flash of yellow and white petals, but it's no use.

He doesn't break down. He doesn't even cry, not since that first night. He just feels the sensation creep up his chest, gripping his throat like a vice. It burns, sometimes, like someone's actually there choking him. When he breathes, it's more like a gasp for air.

That's why he's built that philosophy, see, because those moments, those flashes of emotion, are more painful than anything he's felt in his life. If that's even one percent of what the feeling must be like in its entirety, then it's best kept buried. To unleash it is to unravel, to be at the mercy of the world.

And the only thing he can control is himself.

---

This is the final night of a five-day-long exchange trip to Kyoto, and the students have earned some rest time. Satoru doesn't object to the girl's request, letting her leave to explore the souvenir store while Yuji and Megumi pick up their crepes from some touristy café down the street.

present day

"Gojo-sensei, can I pick up something from that store before we head back?" Nobara asks, lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. "I won't be long."

Satoru hangs around as people mill past, hands in his pockets. The air is thick with heat and the smell of baked goods from nearby bakeries. Though it's well into the evening hours, the sun shows no sign of setting.

With nothing better to do, he resigns himself to people-watching. The fact that he's a head or so taller than most passers-by means he sees everything.

He spots an ageing businessman scolding his teenage son, gesturing furiously at a folded piece of paper -- a school report, maybe -- as the boy looks down at his feet while walking alongside him.

An elderly couple walking hand-in-hand.

Two friends bickering over summer holiday plans.

A group of ten or so tourists, trailing hopelessly behind their guide who is striding along the thoroughfare without looking back.

But then, suddenly, all the faces in the crowd blur into obscurity.

Noises cut off instantaneously.

He hears nothing, feels nothing.

For a moment, Satoru swears that time pauses, everyone suspended in freeze-frame while his brain tries to catch up with what he's seeing.

Who he's seeing.

You.

You're wearing sunglasses. You're dressed differently. You're a few years older than the last time he saw you, which only adds to his hope.

Even with these changes, he knows it's you. He'd know it was you even if he were surrounded by a million other faces.

His legs move before he can process anything else.

It doesn't take him long to catch up to you. As he reaches out to touch your shoulder, understandably, you jolt with surprise at the unexpected contact. Turning around to face him, you remove your headphones and relax a little when you realise that he's not a salesperson or pickpocket.

You push your sunglasses up to rest on your forehead, smiling politely.

Satoru waits. His eyes bore into yours, waiting for that sign of recognition, that epiphany to hit you when you realise that he's finally found you.

Nothing comes.

"Can I help you?" you ask, your tone amiable, if a little confused.

Satoru blinks slowly.

"What's your name?" he asks in response, though he knows it.

You respond with that same name he's had at the tip of his tongue all these years, but never let himself speak it aloud.

He doesn't give his own, suddenly unable to say that, either.

"Where did you go to school?" he queries finally, almost pleadingly.

Even more puzzled, you still try to maintain that aura of politeness. "In Tokyo. Why?" You hesitate, and he's just about to let himself breathe again before you exclaim;

"Oh! Did we have a class together?"

Satoru feels a crushing weight settle over him. Cold, unyielding dread floods his veins.

Panic.

He isn't dead, is he?

No. This can't be the afterlife, this can't be your reunion, because he can't imagine that a supposed paradise would be so cruel as to make you a stranger to him.

You, on the other hand, interpret his silence as answering your question.

"I'm so sorry, that's so rude of me!" you apologise, grimacing with embarrassment. "I really don't remember much from back then, I promise. I'm terrible with names. I'm sure you were lovely!"

Only then does Satoru notice something else: the change to your cursed energy, the way it barely registers as anything at all. It hangs over you like a rainy mist, grey and lifeless, completely different to the bright effervescence that used to follow you everywhere.

He realises a thousand things at once.

That curse, that creature that took you, didn't kill you. He's heard of this only a few times before, but what you encountered was a parasitic spirit, one that sustains its pathetic existence through the cursed energy of powerful sorcerers. They do this because of the potency of a sorcerer's energy, like an untapped well, particularly from someone as high-ranking as you were.

To achieve this, it has placed some amnesiac over you to stifle your abilities to fight back.

That ... thing, that spirit, that parasite, likely returns every so often to feed, and with it goes all memories of your life beforehand.

Satoru's first feeling upon this realisation is guilt. A strange feeling, but one he can't deny, because even though he understands what happened to you, you're none the wiser.

You're still standing there, groceries in hand, as the warm summer breeze washes over you both.

You're waiting for him to speak.

He doesn't. He can't.

"Well, it was lovely meeting you again!" you pipe up cordially, pushing your sunglasses back into place with a flick of your finger. You turn around and call out over your shoulder, "I'm sure I'll see you around!"

Satoru stays there, frozen, and makes a decision there and then.

A new philosophy. A new promise.

He is going to do whatever he can to give you back your life.

You can do whatever you want with it -- maybe you won't forgive him for not saving you, maybe you'll carry on with this existence in Kyoto, maybe you'll go back to sorcery and pretend this never happened.

But it's your choice. The least he can do is ensure you get the chance the make it.

---

"You know it doesn't always work out the way you want it to," Shoko says with more sympathy than he's ever heard from her before. She stands with her back to the stone wall, looking at him sadly. The school buildings loom behind them both, everyone inside asleep. It's so quiet out here that it feels almost unnatural, foreboding.

Satoru has spent months working on this mission, forsaking all other tasks in preparation to exorcise this curse that's robbed you of so much. Tonight, with hours before he leaves for Kyoto, he is asking Shoko his only remaining question.

He's already worked out when the spirit is likely to return to feed. He's figured out a plan to kill it. He is even certain that he can do all of this while keeping you out of further harm's way.

There's really only one question that he has left for his friend, and that is what might happen afterwards.

She's never seen something like this before, she warned him, only ever heard about it from others. It's all word of mouth, no medical texts or written histories. And it's most definitely not a given that all of your memories will return. You'll be lucky if you regain any of the cursed energy you've lost.

That's enough, he figures, to give you a fighting chance. If he was in this position, he'd want the same to be done for him.

"I know," he finally answers Shoko, watching as she exhales from her cigarette into the dark night air. "But it's not just about what I want."

"You can live with it?" she asks with a quiet concern. "With being a stranger, maybe forever?"

He doesn't have to think over his reply.

"I can live with it."

Shoko nods. She puts out her cigarette against the wall, flicks it away, and they head back inside.

---

As strong as he knows he is, Satoru is surprised yet again by the strength of that spirit, how desperately it wants to keep draining life from others.

It's a messy fight. The creature recognises him, almost gleeful at his arrival. It glances up at your apartment overhead, with you sleeping inside, completely unaware of their presence on the street below. Then, the curse looks back at Satoru with a grin that fills him with a fury that burns a hole in his chest.

He is filled with a sensation that feels alien to him, completely unfamiliar, an all-encompassing feeling that he can't attempt to put into words.

As he strikes the curse over and over and over, watching as the hits land, watching it get gravely wounded, none of it does anything to alleviate that feeling.

He kills it, eventually. It dies somewhat pitifully in a puddle of its own cursed energy, spitting out angry hisses until it grows quiet.

Nothing changes then. Satoru feels no shift in the air, no disturbance. He's shielded from civilians so he expected a degree of quietness, but he hears nothing, absolutely nothing, not even the rain falling around him.

Everything else is still.

He feels exhausted in every way. Physically, emotionally, he's spent, having unleashed not only his rage on that spirit, but every iota of pain and fear he's been slowly amassing since their first encounter, since it tore you away and left him untethered.

That feeling is not gone, though. He's not sure it ever will be. But he's identified it, and somehow, that does something to soothe him.

Then, the quietness is interrupted by the sound of a window opening a few floors above.

He glances up in time to see you shout down at him.

"Satoru!"

He closes his eyes. The sound of his own name pours down on him like sunlight.

He feels it all; the recognition in your voice, the relief.

By the time he opens his eyes again, you're down on the street in your pyjamas and slippers, throwing yourself into his arms.

He wraps them around you as tight as he can without causing you any pain, lifting you up and keeping you so close to his chest that you can hear his heart beating.

He can feel your tears seep into the fabric of his shirt and rests a hand on the back of your head, desperate to carry out any gesture to bring you comfort.

You kiss him, then. You kiss his lips, his face, his neck, you cup his face in your hands and feel him lean into the touch.

Eventually, after a perfect eternity in this embrace, you pull apart.

"Were you pissed?" you ask, laughing as you say the words, tear lines still streaking your face but your eyes bright and full of life. "Back then, you said you would be."

"Yes, but not at you," he answers with a smile, and that makes you cry again, good tears, proud tears.

It will take a while for things to get back to normal, he knows that. There's still a lot he can't control. But if he hadn't tried, if he had given up and surrendered to circumstance, you wouldn't be here in front of him, smiling, glowing, looking up at him with beautiful recognition.

That's enough for a new philosophy.

[username-not-registered]

Ight here we go

1. I have no active tabs. I keep them closed

2. Yes

3. Stable

4. Hotel

5. I don't think even I'm aware of it

6. No but I think about it everyday. Too many expectations. One day I might start killing about it

7. I have no enemies

8. I see everyone as valuable in some way

9. What? Idk. My Google Docs I guess. Even I don't look at them. Honestly if it's an artifact I'd let no one else look at, I wouldn't let myself look at it either.

10. Academic potential.

11. I'm not sure. I like dissecting things I guess (figuratively, I have yet to try it in a literal/medical sense)

12. Take a good look at my name and pfp, mate

13. My Grandma is a conservative Christian and a lot of the people I watch like to swear and be gay

14. Introvert

15. It switches between YouTube and Tumblr

16. Outside of a bit of smut, none. I do wanna actually give it a shot

17. A slow, painful, and static death. Like suffocation. Burning is probably fine.

18. I dunno, I've made a lot. I'm not gonna kill myself so I can't read my suicide note to figure that one out.

19. Lies and Truth have kinda blended together at some point. I lie a lot, I tell the truth a lot. For all you know, I'm lying to you right now.

20. I wear my heart on my sleeve, but my words do not often reflect that.

“I have nothing to hide” Asks

(For those daring enough to reblog)

1. What are 4 tabs that you have open on your browser right now?

2. Have you ever thought about seriously harming someone?

3. How are you feeling emotionally right now?   

4. What type of place(Like building) are you in right now?       

5. Does anyone know your deepest, darkest secret?

6. Have you ever tried to feign mental illness for personal gain?

7. Do you have any enemies?

8. Do you have any people you only pretend to like?

9. What is one item that you never let anyone besides yourself look at or in?

10. Do you have any talents that people say you have but you don’t believe you actually have?

11. Something you like that other people generally do not like?

12. Are you a Virgin?  

13. Is there anyone that your grandma would hate that you are subscribed to on youtube?

14. Introvert or extrovert?

15. What is the most used application on your device?

16. How much fan fiction have you actually read?

17. Worst Fears?

18. Biggest mistake you’ve ever made?

19. Worst lie you’ve ever told?

20. Do you consider yourself a trustworthy person?

[kabr0ztrousers]

Your werewolf hubby's knot won't seem to go down no matter what you do, so now it's up to the monster doctor to walk you through different ideas in his office... Perhaps he breaks a few rules and joins in halfway through. Don't worry, he's a doctor and he knows what's best. ;)

Kabr0z Writes Episode 48: Medical Attention

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

I also decided to revisit Professor Blaidd from the Debt trilogy

CWs: Medical malpractice (kinda); double penetration; knotting; creampie; dubcon, but not from the person you're expecting;

A/N: This one may wind up more comedy than pornography... We'll see how it shakes out, I guess!

######################################

Try it, they said. You'll have fun, they said. Well, you tried it, and you just wished when you bought that packet of little blue pills you'd read the label more carefully. Maybe then you'd have spotted where it said "not intended for lupines" before getting your brains fucked out and winding up tied together.

You don't mind it, per se, but you're naked, leaking, and have been stuck holding onto the front of your lover for the last hour. Every time you move he whimpers as you push his sensitive cock around in you, god knows what'll happen if you sneeze.

A knock at the door. Owain's here. He was the best man at your wedding, the devious arsehole who ensured your husband spent the subsequent morning taped to a streetlamp, and by remarkable good fortune happened to be a licensed physician specialising in lupine care.

"Well, Mr. Blaidd" you gestured to the door "Company's here"

Your lover smiled, "I suppose, Mrs. Blaidd, we'd better answer the door." He stood up, wincing as your weight pushed his knot another inch into you "Normally I'd be masked in this situation" he muttered under his breath. You stifled a laugh, but your belly still shook a little, making him grab the wall and growl.

He backed up to the closed door and you turned the handle with an outstretched foot so if it wasn't your friend, all they'd see is your husband's back rather than a full show of his cock lodged in you. Thankfully, it was Owain there, the wiry grey wolfman laughing at your predicament

"Rhys you old dog, got a predicament have we?"

He slapped your husband on the back, jostling you both. You gasped a little as the cock buried in you twitched again and a little fluid leaked out of you.

"Yes, you bastard, we've been stuck like this for an hour" Blaidd growled softly as he shook his friend's hand before leading him in to the sitting room, still disturbed from your earlier lovemaking.

"So, how long have you been..." Owain mimed an erect penis

"About two hours?"

You laughed "About one and a half"

"Ok, so the danger zone for a lupine starts around six, so as long as he's out and deflated by then, you're golden"

You looked at your husband. He looked at you. You both looked at Owain.

"We'd like a little sooner?"

Owain laughed, visibly searching his memory "Easiest way would be to make a little cut and... Drain the organ"

Blaidd went pale

"But that's a last-resort. We could always try... Hmm. Worth a shot" Owain got up and left the room, returning a moment later holding one hand in another before holding it to Blaidd's muzzle.

Blaidd sniffed, then gasped, then sneezed hard. The cock stuck in you was forced upwards, you gasped as a little more fluid leaked from it, joining the half-gallon it felt like you were carrying already.

Owain looked at you both, stroking his chin "You know, normally I'm treating the opposite problem... I bet I know what would work, but it's not altogether... Ethical..?"

You looked at each other again, then back at the other wolf in the room

"You want to fuck me up the ass?"

The two wolves stared at you. Then at each other. "He's been eyeing me since he walked in, have you not noticed?"

Blaidd coughed, reaching behind his head in the way he does when he's not willing to admit something. Owain was desperately trying to avoid eye contact, but the growing bulge in his pants told you everything you needed to know

You sighed at your husband "It's not the first time we've shared, is it?" Then, to Owain "There's lube under your seat"

The doctor didn't need telling twice. Stripping his lower half and grabbing the bottle from under the armchair he was on. He's already hard, slathering the cool lube on his cock and your hole only made him more excited. Already panting into your ear, he lined himself up, precum bubbling onto your ass.

He pushed in, your tight hole stretching for him. It didn't hurt, you're well prepared and slick, but the sensation of two cocks in you at once made you gasp.

He isn't shy any more. Thrusting and grasping at your hips. You can feel his cock rubbing against the thick knot already in you, making Blaidd gasp and groan as the sensitive organ is frotted against.

You moan and your cunt clenches, the two thick cocks driving into you bringing you off. Your fingers brush your clit, hurling you over the edge as your heart races. Blaidd groans as your cunt milks him to another aching orgasm inside you, right as Owain knots your asshole.

You're locked in. Your husband on one side, his best friend on the other, and both of them sealed into your holes, emptying their balls into you.

You're no less stuck than you were before, but the two big wolves are so furry, so soft, you reckon it's probably fine.

###################################

Yeah, this was more farcical than titillating, but hey, overstimming your werewolf husband while his performance-enhanced knot is stuck in you by getting anal from his best friend is one hell of a plot.

Either way, tomorrow's episode is another TF extravaganza, with even more questionable medical ethics

[eldritch-spouse]

Santi (and the icons) with a darling that, every time they have sex, as soon as they get inside you, via fingers, tongue, or dick, they immediately cum. No matter what they do, no matter how much endurance they have, they immediately cum so hard they have to stop for a bit. And every time they can go again, the same thing happens, and they don't know why. (I'm dying imagining the look on Cero and Kaly's faces).

[YO I FUCKING LOVE THAT. WOAH. You triggered something in me anon.]

Santi can't say this happens to him often. Or at all, honestly. It's the first time he's ever penetrated anyone and immediately finished. When he's not clutching you for dear life, grunting and moaning from the suddenness of his own orgasm, he spends a few moments wondering how this happened while watching his own cum drop to the sheets between your legs. This is about one of the most disappointing things he could do to a customer. But it was also probably one of the best orgasms of his entire life, if he's being honest. Somehow, someway, with heated cheeks, Santi apologizes smoothly and suggests focusing on you for a while now (mostly because, even if he's not flagged, he's still out of it). Hahah, guess he was reeeally hungry love... He's going to work to build more endurance, you deserve to get fucked properly without him blowing his load instantly.

There are so many things Rinx expected, but not this. The Icon shudders and garbles a noise like he's being choked when possibly the harshest load of his life leaves him, gripping you so hard it bruises. As the Icon deflates, he wonders how long it must have been to make this happen. Ultimately, he chalks it up to romantic feelings actually being the cause of his quickshot moment, growing increasingly embarrassed when it keeps happening. To the point where Rinx might spend a lot more time in foreplay stages, to both ensure you're having a good time and to let himself enjoy acts like thigh-fucking or even a simple handjob. He can't often resist the thought of just sliding into you for an instant orgasm though, it's a little too tempting when you're just at arm's length. He'll only work on it if you express disappointment.

Cero freezes. It wasn't just the scandalous noise he made, the beastial drooling or even the jitter of his hips as he had no choice but to hump through the quickest orgasm of his life. It was that he did this with you, the one person he cares to truly impress in bed. Cero doesn't fail in bed. He's got an enviable cock and he has stamina, he knows what to do, he's no novice- Yet there's nothing but shame in him when he feels his own seed seep through you, coating his dick and thighs mockingly. He doesn't even allow you to look at his face, shoving you on the bed face-down and working relentlessly to make you cum before you can think about saying anything. If you're smart, you won't tease him about it. For your own good. Cero immediately starts cockwarming sessions to try and fix this somehow, desensitize himself, but as soon as either one of you shifts too much, he'll buck and blow it inevitably. He hates this.

Livius is another one that freezes. He's also never had this happen to him. And, as far as he knows, he can't physically force himself to be a quickshot in order to mimic anyone. He's going to pay very close attention to how you react to this, because there's no way you're not feeling the bucket load he just drilled into you. His go-to response is to immediately shift into a demeanor that you might like. Whether it be domineering and harsh or pathetic and desperate, he seeks to overwhelm you enough to forget that even happened. When this repeats itself, adding further stress to Livius, he vows to fix it by changing you, instead of himself. How alien. Fine. If he must cum every time he enters you, then maybe you ought to suffer the same fate, then the two of you will truly be in synch, right? It's only a matter of time until he finds a way to achieve this.

Kalymir sees this as a defeat. You've defeated him by completely catching him by surprise. He may have snarled his climax and slumped for the briefest of moments, exhaling almost softly against you, but a rage so hot consumes him that the King gives you absolutely no second to mock him. He may be pretty spent, and the overstimulation is almost hurting him, his legs are certainly trembling a little- But Kalymir will keep fucking you through his orgasm, a gross and sloppy sound ringing as he makes it a point to have you climax as quickly as possible too. The more this happens, the more frustrated he gets, though the orgasm is always satisfying and good. He tries fucking you in every position, in every other hole, it's pointless. At some point, Kalymir just builds endurance to keep rutting you through his first orgasm, not even counting it. He always kind of ends up sweating like a pig and collapsing somewhere though. Doesn't matter, it's a workout.

You might think Zizz is a quickshot simply because he's the King of sloth, but he himself is kind of bothered by this. There's nothing he loves more than taking sex slow, you might be trapped with him for hours at a time. So he grunted and spasmed when he was forced to orgasm as soon as you took him in. He'll take a bit longer to recover from it, letting you sit plugged with his load for a bit, but Zizz doesn't freak out. After all, he has time, he can play with you and your now sloppy hole for a while, waiting to recover. Zizz accepts this rather well, and even your jabs are welcomed, but expect his own jeering and getting cum-soaked fingers in your mouth if you talk too much. He grows to like the sensation of immediately marking you, before any real fucking happens. Zizz is also lazy enough to grab you for a quick orgasm, then let you decide if you want to continue or just leave the encounter there.

Vorticia has no idea how this even happens. All she did was eat you out. She can't possibly be that desperate for sex. She tries to mask it as well as she can so that you don't notice it, but it's hopeless, she's always been very vocal as a woman when she comes. Fortunately, it's easier for her than it is for a male to keep going, so she simply punishes you for any snide comments and makes sure to proportion an equally pleasurable experience. She'd like to know why she keeps orgasming basically untouched just by inserting anything in you, but it's a brand new sensation, and she'd be lying to say that it doesn't feel amazing. Instead of being deeply embarrassed, the Queen experiments, thinking that maybe she can create an even more intense instant orgasm by perhaps penetrating you with an engorged clit. You will never leave these encounters without your own share of course, but Vorticia usually gets several.

Vesper takes it in stride. He knows he's not a quickshot, you just have insane potential. Your body is so perfect!! He himself has made many people cum as soon as they enter him, as soon as they touch him, it's only fitting that you sport the same talent. He relishes in this, always eager to milk as many orgasms as he can out of both you and him, he even uses his magic to augment the experience, to make it so that both you and him are constantly going over the edge from the smallest stimulus. It's an addicting loop that drives him completely feral and usually destroys any room the two of you get started in. This is technically kind of bad, because Vesper will exhaust you dangerously and might thrust himself into spontaneous ruts, bursting out of the mansion to ravage the streets after a lengthy time with you. The King will not stop singing your praises, always eager to take you to some of the most challenging people he knows, just so he can see the looks on their faces when they instantly bust their load.

[mononijikayu]

kayu's playlist — side 2500;

The question is somehow inevitable. No matter how many interviews you do for anything you do, no matter how much you try to steer the conversation toward your work, it always circles back to your personal life. "Are you dating any of your coworkers or friends?" It’s phrased casually, like an afterthought, but you know better. The tabloids, the press have been relentless. But what do you expect?

You were intriguing. It was as if you wanted them to chase after you. It's like you wanted them to keep up with you, like it was a game. And people like to play.

hello this is kayu!!! wow, i'm really surprised and overwhelmed that people continue to follow up with me and read my work and it's just, its been an incredible two years!!! it's genuinely such an overwhelming feeling, to be so adored by so many of you. thank you for 2.5k followers!!! i never expected that i'll ever end up in this position where i'd get such an opportunity to write and read and experience multiple lifetimes through all of this with you guys. its still just an incredible situation, a privileged one, to be able to be with yall like this. and i don't take it for granted. i don't meet up a lot of my friends nowadays, because we're all growing older and doing other things. so in some ways, you guys have become new friends and comfort me in my own grievances in life. so i am grateful, to have some people in my life like you all. there will be many things that changes, but i hope you know its always an honor to write for you and be a writer that comforts people and makes people feel things. i genuinely am so happy to do things like this and know that you both of us find comfort in it. this playlist will not exist if it wasn't for your love, none of this would exist without your love. so i am grateful. i always will be. and i hope you know how much i love yall. please enjoy this little gift, from me to you and that you always know how much i adore all of you. i'll see you starting this week!!! i love you all <3

when people ask you in interviews if you're dating, you end up smiling and saying 'spoilers'. but all they had to do was analyze your instagram to see why you smile so slyly. and when they do, all they can do is gasp. guess what? there's two of them!

There were too many pictures of you leaving dinner with Geto Suguru, laughing backstage with Satoru Gojo, leaning a little too close in some candid shot taken at a party. Or sometimes you would be dancing around with Nanami Kento at an afterparty wrap up, or end up drinking at a cafe with Kamo Choso. Fans dissect every interaction, every glance, every social media post, desperate to piece together a narrative. That's just how it was, when you're a known name. So you think to yourself, you might as well play the game too. I mean, they don't mind. So, you smile. A slow, knowing smile, just enough to fuel the curiosity. You could shut it down with a simple no, or confirm something with a straightforward yes, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, you lean forward slightly, letting the moment stretch just enough to build anticipation. With a teasing glint in your eye, you simply say with a grin."Spoilers." The interviewer laughs, caught between amusement and frustration. The audience reacts instantly, murmurs rippling through the room, tweets flying in real time. Just like that, you’ve sidestepped the question without giving anything away, while making sure the speculation never dies down. It’s a game at this point. And it's one you’re more than happy to keep playing. A text comes through. And then another. 'you're a vixen, aren't you?' 'well, aren't you fun to play with, baby ;)))' You smirked at the messages.

you took him back, and you do love him. but toji knows that you will never love him the way you did back then. that's why he knows when you're not home, you'll be in someone else's bed. and all he can do is swallow his pride. after all, you'll always come back home to him. like he does.

Fushiguro Toji reads the headlines with a scowl, jaw tightening as his eyes flick over the words on the newspaper. He doesn't read it often, if he was being honest. But the more he sees more about it, the more he knows he can't avoid it. "Co-stars or Something More? Sparks Fly Between Y/N L/N and Nanami Kento on Set." Tch. Too well, huh? He scoffs, but the irritation sits heavy in his chest. Every article, every damn picture of you laughing with Nanami, standing close to him, looking at him like he’s the only one in the room. It grates on his nerves more than he wants to admit. Jealousy curls in his gut, sharp and bitter. But what right does he have to say anything? None. Not after what he did. Not after the way he shattered everything between you. He cheated. He ruined it. He was the one who left you picking up the pieces, and if Nanami Kento—or anyone else, for that matter—was helping you put them back together, what could he really say? Still, the thought of you moving on, of someone else having your smiles, your time, your heart. Everything about it drives him insane. He exhales sharply, tossing his phone onto the table. It’s his own damn fault, and he knows it. Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

you and sukuna have gone through everything together. from all the hardships of his late night practice to your continuous studies making you tear up. to every misunderstanding and to every fight, there was one thing that brought you both back together. and that's the warmth of love.

Ryomen Sukuna leans against the counter, arms crossed, staring down at the contract like it personally offended him.

The offer from the national volleyball team is everything he’s worked for. It's all he's every wanted since he was a kid. It was everything he'd risk everything for. And yet, he hesitates. “You’re thinking too hard, 'kuna.” you tease, nudging his side. “This is a no-brainer, Sukuna. You should go for it.” He doesn’t respond right away, just clicks his tongue and exhales through his nose. You recognize that look on his face. It was hard to miss. It was the one where he’s overanalyzing, masking his real concern behind a layer of indifference. Finally, he mutters, “I’d miss your graduation. You said it was that date, right? The first game is during your graduation.” Your chest tightens at that. He says it like it’s just a fact, but you can hear the frustration underneath. The regret. Your boyfriend always feels like he's going to miss so much on what you have going on. He doesn't like it, that he can't be there for you the way you are. You smile, softer this time. “And I’d miss seeing you play on the national team if you don’t take this. We’ll make up for it, I promise.” His gaze flickers to yours, searching. “…You sure?” “Absolutely.” You step closer, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be cheering for you from where-ever I am. Whether I’m in the crowd or watching from a screen. So go. Do what you were meant to do.” He holds your stare for a moment longer before exhaling, shaking his head with a smirk. “Tch. You’re annoying.” But when he finally signs the contract, you don’t miss the way his grip on your hand lingers. He looks at you and you couldn't help but smile. You loved this man too much.

[alpacaradio]

There really is no excuse. Taken with much generosity, its constant discussion of transmisandry is coming from a place of hurt - but as soon as it's talking about trans women, you can immediately tell that OP has never really understood one.

I've never met a trans woman who hasn't grappled deeply with the expectations of masculinity on her and indeed often that very thing led her to identify her own womanhood. I found my own way to recognizing who I am through grappling with the expectations on me and how uncomfortable I was with them!

It was a role that I always implicitly rejected and was uncomfortable with. This story is so common I think it more likely than not you've heard it if you know even a single trans woman. To know many and not be deeply familiar with it seems ... almost impossible. I can only conclude that the OP hasn't really listened.

And in all of this, "if transmascs need to sit for hours and unlearn transmisogyny, fine. but" but nothing at all, because you clearly haven't done the work to put anything after that sentence making demands of a community. You're talking about us like you've done the work to really know and understand trans women, and you've even appealed to multiple evil tranny behaviors, behaviors I've literally never seen from any trans woman, to the point where I think the problem is mostly you.

It is so easy to see that so much of what is in genderqueerdyke's response is specific issues with specific trans women being projected onto an entire community, including so many things which are obviously a consequence of simply not listening to or refusing to believe us.

Yes! I know sex workers, too! Yes, our bodies are constantly fetishized for our maleness even though we are not male. And yes, there are clients who seek out trans women specifically seeing us as men. We're surrounded by chasers. What I find surprising is not that a sex worker you knew had clients who told her they were attracted to her for her maleness, but that you refused to believe her, because I'd say it's more likely than not that any trans woman who's ever done sex work has been told that very thing. But you refuse to believe the things women have told you, and so you put doubt on that part of our experience too. You had to make our lived experience sound impossible, so that describing our experiences sounds like bigotry rather than fact.

I'm so annoyed I popped into second person, but I do not really want to talk to it at all. I don't want it to talk to me or anyone else; I want it to stop talking about trans women entirely until it can fucking believe even one of us and not talk over us and decide our experiences for us.

Any time someone says, "I need to unlearn X? Fine, but" your hackles should be raised. This is someone that really should not be trying to speak about the community of trans women.

I guess this is something the community has generally known about Equinox, but damn, this isn't a mistake or something you can just apologize for; this is evidence of an entire way of thinking that underlies every rant I've ever seen about transmisandry. How am I supposed to believe any differently when I've only ever seen it post through all of this and never really actually grapple with it? How are we supposed to get "solidarity" when solidarity means putting up with the abuse of being bombarded with this belief system the moment we let our guard down? the moment we're comfortable with ourselves? @genderqueerdykes is not someone who can truly be in community with me, and I think not someone to feel comfortable around as a trans woman. If I were its friend I would hold my cards damn close to my chest.

Pretend you didn't see that.

This is a level of transmisogyny that is somewhat hard to comment on because the things that one would normally point out as transmisogynistic implications are said so brazenly that there can be no pretense about any of the involved parties being unaware of it. The authors know, the readers know, everybody understands that this is pure transmisogyny. There is no plausible deniability.

It's an attempt to establish proximity between transfems and cis manhood in every way possible. Their bodies, their histories, their "socialization", the way they are treated by others, the way they treat and view others, their ways of thinking, even their self-conception. Every aspect of their being is cast as essentially male. Transfems are being called "men" in all but name - and not just any "men", they are made into embodiments of the worst aspects of hegemonic manhood. Not just male socialized but continuing to benefit from male socialization. Not just engaging in abusive behaviors stemming from male socialization but being afforded the freedom to do so because they continue to be treated as men. (Suffice it to say that this does not align with reality)

This is unadulterated sex-essentialism and it's intentionally being used to delegitimize and devalue the standpoint of transfems in feminist discourses. It's clear that the author is projecting transmisogynist ideas onto transfems and simply assumes that these ideas must be correct without considering any alternative. (The fact that transfems do not internalize "male socialization" has been reiterated many times over and should not have to be continually reasserted. This is a baseline level of understanding that we should be able to expect and demand from members of our community.)

Misogyny is framed as being contained within the realms of sexed bodies and gendered socialization in such a way that it allows for the casting of transfems as people enacting misogyny without being primary targets themselves - like cis men.

The claim that the animosity some transfems exhibit towards men comes from wanting to "prove" their womanhood serves the double purpose of casting their womanhood as inauthentic and denying the misogyny they suffer at the hands of men. One would be hard pressed to find a more cruel mischaracterization of transfems' experiences than this.

The cynical misappropriation of the standpoint of the people this screed is directed at by the use of "we" despite making it abundantly clear that the behavior that is being criticized and its supposed causes exempt people such as the author from the possibility of engaging in it should also be noted as an attempt at weaponizing a compromised version of standpoint epistemology against transfems.

The only plausible target audience for this kind of rhetoric are those who carry extreme ressentiment towards transfems and are susceptible to softened formulations of TERF ideology. These are the same kinds of ideas that TERFs have tried to push into trans spaces numerous times, e.g. under names like "sex-conscious feminsim".

A formulaic "retreat" from this post consisting entirely of platitudes has been published after the author received backlash for it but nobody is under any obligation to accept it and they absolutely should not. A person who was very obviously attempting to promote TERF ideology in trans spaces and in the same stroke accused transfems of being uniquely prone to making false accusations is not trustworthy, even if that person backs down upon realizing that the reception is more uniformly negative than anticipated.

@genderqueerdykes @gateway-2000 is a transmisogynist, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Its entire worldview is permeated by transmisogynistic assumptions, ideas and biases at a fundamental level. It has straightforwardly expressed an understanding of transfems' interiorities, their experiences and their social positions that is so incorrect that one has to wonder how someone holding these views could have navigated trans communities for a considerable amount of time without encountering the many transfeminist rebuttals to all of its demagoguery. How could someone with even a passing level of familiarity with TERF ideology or "gender critical feminism" read and espouse these ideas without recognizing them? It's completely unthinkable. It's not unreasonable to assume that it simply misjudged the consensus within its audience as being sufficiently anti-transfeminist for ideas such as these to fall upon fertile ground and it is now going back to waiting until the time is ripe to reintroduce them and to expressing them in more subtle ways until then.

But you can't un-ring a bell.

We can and should assert boundaries against reactionaries engaging in obvious subversion such as this. Refusing to do so is a deleterious error in judgement. This is very far beyond the limits of what any trans community that wants to consider transfems a part of itself can be allowed to tolerate.

[ladysatoru]

I do really love Sanji for his kindness 🥰. But why does he treat every attractive women as a sex object? 🥴 Female looks seem to be more important to him than character.

hello sweet anon, im not gonna try to change your mind, but let me tell you why i don't think that way!

Sanji is definitely flirtatious, but he genuinely respects and cares for women beyond just their looks. That's his principle in life that he'd learned from zeff. Let's discuss :

Does sanji only see women as sex objects?

No. If Sanji only saw women as sex objects, he wouldnt be so sensitive to their behavior and struggles. he would not care for the real person they are underneath (pudding in wci), their discomfort (connis in skypiea), their helplessness (Viola in dressrosa, Robin in water 7), their obligations (tashigi fighting vergo in punk hazard) etc.

Another point is that, sanji's admiration for women lies in what he can do for them instead of what they can do for him. This is an important point because men who objectify women, usually treat them as disposable things - only valuing/being nice to them when they can get sex/favors from women and discard them when the need is met/rejection, there's always an underlying conditional dimension to it. Sanji is not like that. Sanji's joy lies in serving, protecting and admiring women. He remains loyal, kind, selfless, and devoted, even when he gets nothing in return, even when he is hurt by women sometimes (he cared for and even uplifted pudding even when he came to know abt her intentions and opinions abt him). His kindness goes beyond attraction; it’s a fundamental part of who he is.

Does sanji treat women as his equals?

HELL No. But he's still a feminist, because he treats women BETTER. The world and societal structure favors men more than us, and we don't always have the freedom or agency over our life and circumstances. Sanji understands that and so he treats women BETTER than how he treats men. He gives women more grace, more consideration and more understanding than he would ever give to any men. I guess he's more of a woman supremacist than a feminist but yeah.

Does he only care for women's physical appearance?

No, if he did then he wouldn't be kind to the mermaid grandma kokoro im enies lobby. Yes, he was crying throwing up cz she's not what he expected mermaids to look like but he was doing that clownery AFTER saving her life. Yes sanji loves beautiful women (who doesn't tbh) but that's NOT the foundation of his behavior towards women.

He is incredibly kind, some ppl say only to women, absolutely not, he's kind towards all genders and species'. With men, he's just more brash and rude, with women he is sweet and kind. I love him to the moon and back.

His gag is not about reducing women to their looks, but rather about how he expresses his appreciation and admiration for them. The sun rises in the east, and Sanji fawns over beautiful women—it’s the rule of the universe.

[harmonysanreads]

Current yan mydei brainrot for me is how he would be with someone he clearly can't have, whether due to the flame chase(maybe an attack or just the dangers of having a chrysos heir as a lover), circumstance(like not being from amphoreous), or just plain having other priorities(i.e. the literal apocalypse of the black tide)

He doesn't seem to be the 'if i can't have you, no one can' type to me idk

I've been thinking about this for some time as well! And I think the answer lies in the relationship Mydei has with his immortality. Now, my guess is based on what we currently have on this particular topic as I believe Mydei's exact feelings on his ‘gift’ is not stated anywhere explicitly. But when more information does come out, I think we should still follow that lead.

Mydei is not a linear character at all, you're given a certain first impression of him — that which he presents to most people as well, but slowly discover him to be more than that. If I was to compare, he's definitely more mentally well-adjusted than Phainon, who still struggles to know himself. And the key to this isn't hidden from us either, in Mydei's own words, he can simply endure more hardships than most. You'd expect someone like Mydei to have more of a rebellious opinion but the fact that he chooses endure of all words is important. Because it tells us that one of Mydei's greatest strengths is patience. Or to speak in a more Kremnoan way, tenacity.

Which makes even more sense when you consider his decision to migrate to Okhema, there is no way someone who has a quick temper will be able to execute this properly. A warrior must be adept at knowing when to strike, but a good warrior should not hesitate to retreat when it's required. When faced with something that we really want but can't have, we'll first have to deal with an initial state of yearning. Then a brief stage of inferiority, which typically transitions to frustration towards one's circumstances. From then on, you can either begrudgingly let it go or persist until you've acquired it.

I don't think Mydei is free from this cycle, especially since there's something that he's been denied of since birth. But at least, an undying body has its merits, despite being a curse. So the feelings this situation arises in himself are somewhat manageable. You're far more of a complicated situation, especially due to the reflections you indirectly force himself to face.

I bring all of these up to propose two paths in response to the question, “How will Mydei handle a darling who he clearly can't have?” One is the more obvious choice, letting go completely and enduring the consequences ; just as he's let go of so many things, just as he's endured dying time and time again. The other is letting you go on the surface and waiting, plotting for the perfect opportunity to strike once more.

Mydei does not think himself to be deserving of you at all, let alone other people. But if he sees that the circumstances are such that you're at blatant risk and there's not a single other being capable of ensuring your happiness, he won't hesitate to step up — even if that demands him to play a villain, so to say.

[glossypolaroidkisses]

3/3 - Between Love & Leaving

Part 3/3 

— Final part based on request from anon: “thinking about long-term relationship reader and lu and how their interactions would look like right before he cut contact w/ everyone … “ Grab your tissues.

link to part 1 <3 (appartement’s floor plan is here)

link to part 2 <3

The next morning, you woke up with a light grin on your face as you reminisced on the moments before you had fallen asleep. You rolled over, reaching your arm out expecting it to land gently on Luigi’s strong chest, as it usually does. Your hand falls further than expected, hitting the mattress. Your brows furrow, eyes still closed. You attempt to force them open, the bright, sunny room blinding you as you try to see. All you see are blurry, white sheets. Empty bed. You slowly lift your body, sitting up, rubbing your eyes with urgency. “Baby?” you call out, your voice weak and groggy. Usually if he doesn't respond the first time, you hear the sizzling pan on the stove, or the faucet running for the dishes. Nothing. “Luigi???” you raspily call out, much louder this time. Forcing your tired body to carry its own weight, you stumble out of bed. 

You rush into the kitchen, standing just outside your bedroom door to observe the living space. It’s as if the world is frozen, the way everything is untouched. Everything is still, silent. One could assume you live alone. No dishes in the drying rack, everything clean and tidy. Luigi’s keys aren't hanging and his wallet is gone from the counter at the front, where they usually are.

You take a couple of steps further, your heart beginning to race. The air smells faintly of Luigi’s cologne, but something about it feels wrong, almost like it’s been lingering for so long that it’s become stale. A weight sets in your chest, confirming something must be wrong. You go from practically standing still, frozen, to rushing around the apartment, desperate for clues. 

His toothbrush is missing from the bathroom, weatherproof jacket gone from the coat rack, favourite backpack missing from the closet. His shoes, the ones he always leaves by the door, aren’t there.

In the midst of your panicked search, you rush into the living room and your heart drops. You stop dead in your tracks, almost falling forward. The only room in the apartment that you’ve come across that isn’t perfectly neat or missing items; It has something left behind. 

You sit on the couch in front of the table– where you start every morning –to find your usual breakfast. Morning coffee with jam on toast is made, just how you like it. Next to it, a large box with a folded note on top of it, perfectly centred. Scared to meddle with potentially the last untouched part you have of Luigi, you gently grasp the mug’s handle. It’s cold, so is your toast. 

You take a deep breath, feeling lightheaded, head almost fuzzy. Picking up the note, you slowly unfold. There it is, the sight of Luigi’s handwriting. 

You immediately break down at the sight of his nickname for you, in that writing you’d always make fun of him for. 

Mia stellina,

I don’t know how to explain this in a way that will make it hurt any less. I’ve turned the words over in my mind a thousand times, but there’s no version of this that feels okay. But, you guessed it. I’m not backpacking. Don’t kill me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be back.

I never wanted to lie to you, but the truth felt impossible to say out loud. I have a feeling a part of you already knew. No way to make leaving you feel like anything other than a mistake, even when I know I have no other choice.

How can I explain walking away from the one person who gave my life meaning? How can I make you understand something even if I don't fully understand myself?

What I can say with certainty, the only thing that matters, is that I love you. I love you more than I thought it was possible to love anyone. You’ve given me light in a life that’s known too much darkness, and that light has saved me in ways I can never repay. Being loved by you was the greatest gift of my life. You are my heart, my home, my peace.

And still, I have to leave.

I can’t tell you why. I can’t explain. Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t find the words to make it make sense. There are things I have to do, things I can’t let touch you. Please don’t think this is your fault or something you could have stopped. It’s not. This is my choice, and as much as it’s breaking me, it’s one I have to make.

I know you’ll hate me for not saying goodbye in person, for not giving you a chance to stop me. But if I had stayed one more minute, looked into your eyes one more time, I wouldn’t have been able to leave. And I have to go. Even if it kills me. Even if it means walking away from the future we dreamed of.

Last night, as we looked at the stars, I tried to memorize every second. The way your face lit up when you found a constellation. The way your fingers found mine without a thought. It’s all burned into my memory now, something I’ll carry with me, no matter where I go. Just like I will carry the memory of that summer evening at the lake—the two of us sitting on the dock, your feet in the water, my arm around you. I think about that night often—how safe it felt, how you made everything else disappear. Maybe one day, if the stars align again, we’ll meet there. I don’t know if that day will ever come, but if it does, you’ll know where to find me. I will look for you in every night sky.

Also, last night, I’ve replayed the moment a thousand times. When you mentioned our future kids, I should have said something then. I should have told you that I've always wanted that, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. That I dreamt of our life together, of raising children with you, speaking Italian together. But in that moment, I froze. I couldn’t find the words, not because they weren’t there, but because I knew, deep down, I was about to leave. I knew I wouldn’t be there to make that future with you. And I couldn’t bear to tell you that. I couldn’t bear to break your heart more than I already was.

I wish I had said, "Yes, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. A family with you." I wish I had told you how much I loved you, how much I wanted a life filled with laughter, with our children running around, with us speaking Italian in our home, just as you imagined.

Please don’t think for a second that I didn’t want that with all my heart. But the truth is, I couldn’t give it to you. And I couldn’t leave without telling you this now, even though I know it may hurt you.

By the time you read this, I will be gone. I don’t know if we will ever see each other again. Maybe we will, maybe we won’t. I don’t have that answer, and that uncertainty will haunt me for the rest of my life.

But I need you to live. Don’t let this letter, or my leaving, hold you back. Don’t let it steal the light from you that I love so much. Live boldly, laugh loudly—obnoxiously, please—love deeply. Be everything you’re meant to be, and do it for both of us. Do all the things we talked about, even if it’s without me. Live the life you deserve, my love, because that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. Even though the thought of you finding happiness with someone else kills me, I hope, with everything in me, that you find it. I need to know you will live a life full of joy and beauty, even if I can’t be there to witness it.

I will hold onto you for as long as I live. Your laugh, your smile, the way your hand fits in mine; they’re all a part of me now, they always will be. No matter where I go, no matter what happens, I will never stop loving you. You are my greatest joy, my only regret, my eternal hope. You are the love of my life.

I couldn’t leave you with nothing, not when you’ve given me so much. I know it won’t make this any easier, but I need you to have these pieces of me, even if they don’t feel like enough.

The hoodie. Yeah, THAT hoodie. The one you always teased me for wearing because I practically lived in it. You’d roll your eyes and say, “Again? Don’t you have any other clothes?” I can hear your voice as I write this. You’d tease and whine, then steal it off me when I wasn’t looking. I saw how you’d wrap yourself in it, how your shoulders would relax like you were safe. So it’s yours now. It’s yours for good. Hold onto it. Pull it tight when you need to feel me close. I sprayed it with my cologne, the one you love, but most of it is just me.

Your top three favourite books. Don’t worry. I bought new, hardcover copies because I know you would hate if I ‘damaged your originals’. I annotated the margins. So, if you ever want to reread them together, my thoughts intertwined with the words, it’s as if I’m speaking to you through them. Whenever you miss me, let’s read together.

The cash—it’s not a gift, and it’s not pity. It’s practicality. I know you’ll try to argue with me, even if I’m not there to hear it. But you’ve got dreams, my love. I want to make sure you can chase them. Whether it’s traveling to all the places we talked about, starting that project you kept putting off, or just giving yourself time to breathe, use it. I beg that you use it. Live the kind of life you deserve, not for me (okay maybe a little for me), but for you.

Also, because I can’t be there to take care of you anymore, I did something you might be upset about, but I don’t care. The apartment is yours. Paid off, in full. No mortgage, no rent. You’ll never have to worry about it again. Consider it my last selfish act, because I couldn't stand the thought of you struggling, of you losing the one place that still smells like us. Keep it. Sell it. Burn it down, if that’s what you need to do. But I wanted to leave you with something more than memories, and this way you have a choice.

Even if I can’t be there, at least this can. 

The ring… I don’t even know where to start. I’ve been carrying it around for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to give it to you. Clearly there isn’t a perfect moment now. 

It’s engraved with our birthstones and initials on the inside. I don’t know what to say, except that it was always meant for you. Keep it, wear it daily, your ring finger, or not. Throw it into the ocean, wear it on a chain– whatever you need to do. But know that when I bought it, it was with forever in mind.

Okay, my turn to admit to being greedy. I took a few things of yours, too. I know it’s selfish, but I needed something of yours to hold onto, too. Something that feels like you in the most private, unfiltered way. Here goes, 

Your favourite lingerie. It wasn’t just about how beautiful it looked on you. It was about the way you carried yourself in it, the way your confidence would flicker into something soft when I traced my fingers down your spine. I took it because I couldn’t let go of that feeling. A private keepsake of the way we fit together, of the moments that were just ours.

Your sleep shirt, the one you always stole from me.. now it’s my turn. It still smells like you, like the warmth of early mornings and the way you used to curl into me, allowing your body to fully rest within each other in my grasp, before you were fully awake.

Before you get mad, there’s something else. I tore a page from your diary. Just one. Not one of the heavy ones, not the pages where you spilled your worst days or your fears (those are sacred to you, and I would never take them from you). The page I took was different. It was about an ordinary day, the kind you’ve probably forgotten. The way the sun’s warmth felt on your face, the way your coffee tasted just right, the way you caught yourself humming one of those songs you love but never remember the name of, a cute caterpillar you saw. You wrote about how the smallest things made the day feel special, and how grateful you were for moments like that.

I needed that. Your words, in your own handwriting, a reminder of how you see the world. How you find joy in the little things, how you make everything brighter just by being in it. That page is proof that you’ll find those moments again, even without me. I’ll keep it with me always; a piece of your light, folded into my pocket.

I know none of this will fill the space I’ve left. None of these things can hold you when you feel alone. They won’t make you laugh when you need it, or tease you when you roll your eyes at me. But I hope they remind you that I loved you. That I will always love you. That no matter where I go, you’re with me.

I need you to live, my love. To laugh so hard you cry, to wake up and feel like the world is wide open for you. Live for the both of us, okay? That’s the only way I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for leaving.

And if the world bends in some miraculous way, if life brings us back together when we least expect it, you’ll know it’s me when you see someone wearing that one stupid shirt, since the hoodie is yours now. You know the one.

For now, this is goodbye. But you’ll always be my light, my constant, my everything.

If there is a chance for us, a day when fate brings us back together, I will find my way to you. I promise. But if that day never comes, please remember that I loved you more than words could ever say. Our love is the kind of love that I thought only existed in, well, not MY books, but your books. Fairytale love.

I don’t have the words to say goodbye, not really. I was supposed to finish writing five minutes ago. I don’t think there’s a way to end this that doesn’t feel wrong. So I’ll just say this,

You were the best thing that ever happened to me. And I’ll carry you with me, always. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Forever yours,

 Luigi 

You were on that couch for hours, a mess. You had no idea you were capable of shedding so many tears, wailing in ways you didn’t know your body could endure. You retraced every piece of Luigi in your life, the moments you shared, the quiet mornings and stolen glances, the touch of his hand, the sound of his laughter. But there was nothing left of him now, just empty space. 

His location, a mystery. Your texts, unanswered. Your emails, unread.

You searched for other missing things, tiny remnants of his presence that might still linger—something, anything, to hold onto. Other things he may have taken of you. For example, a sample of your signature perfume. You noticed because the bottle was out of place on the shelf, a few drops spilled carelessly onto the counter. 

He invaded your dreams, every single night; And you were in his. 

In those dreams, You’re there with him, and somehow, he's there with you, even when you woke up to the empty silence of your room. You couldn’t believe it. Luigi had gotten to say goodbye, and you hadn’t. What you would say if you could just hear his voice again… if you could just tell him everything you never had the chance to say.

Some nights in your grief, you scream out from the balcony. Your voice echoing into the still night, raw and aching. A neighbour always reminds you, shouting from another balcony that you aren’t alone in this world. You get embarrassed, but it doesn't matter. In those moments, you felt like the universe had turned its back on you, and there's no one who could truly understand.

Sometimes, you whisper conversations in the dark, pretending Luigi still beside you. You’d look into the telescope’s eyepiece, pausing for a moment, waiting for him to look as well, as if he were still there, watching the stars with you. You continued to make meals, always enough for the two of you, but the second plate would always sit untouched, always ending up as leftovers in the fridge.

You reread your favourite books, each line a memory of something you had shared. You laughed at the comments you could still hear him saying, written in that handwriting, his voice alive in the words of the stories you both cherished.

You continued your days, waiting. Not fully sure what you were waiting for, or if it was even possible, but waiting nonetheless. You worked through accepting this new reality, and sometimes that meant you were cradling his hoodie, rewatching old videos, or fiddling with the ring on your finger as you fought back tears.

In the quiet moments, something shifted. No answers, no closure, just the faintest possibility that the story wasn’t over. The world moved on, and bit by bit, you did too in the slightest, even if your heart wasn’t ready. You wondered if you'd ever see him again or if the scattered bits of memories and physical pieces would ever come together.

But that was a question for later.

For now, you carried his memory, wrapped in your heart.

a/n: wwwwwooooweeee! see why it took me so long to finish that? LOL omg the amount of times i have cried…. anyways. If you want me to continue this, feel free to comment or send anon requests to how you see it continuing. Explaining why he left, if they’ll reunite. As always, i’m open to any and all feedback. love u guys. hope u enjoyed. mwah.

[tweevee3]

What? No. Women get more economic power when they: aren't expected to stop working to have a child or if they get enough maternity leave and affordable pre-k education, when female-dominated fields aren't devalued, when women aren't told they must prioritize men and children over financial independence, etc. You know, all things we have made significant gains in over the past 50 years, but we're still not there yet. These are still the stats and a pretty common situation:

2. Yes? and it provides more bodily autonomy for women.

3. And... what does a group of individuals make up?

4. I would say that almost every political or social movement would beg to differ.

5. Women's shelters for one.

6. Just completely missed the point I guess. Maybe perpetuating the idea that people who look female act one way, and people who look male act another way (in a way that advantages males), isn't great for women or feminism?

7. Pretty simple. A patriarchy is a system that doesn't advantage males over females as a whole. A policy that I didn't mention already is abolishing porn and the sex industry by criminalizing sex buyers, and not the sex workers. Also, requiring women to be included in medical trials. And also, boycott things like makeup, which is functionally useless and just feeds off the idea that women are just meant to be pretty yet women are also not pretty already.

Patriarchy is also often perpetuated through how people are raised, aka male vs female socialization, so working to combat that would help. It's not "just vibes". It's also "don't teach your daughter that math is for men".

We used to make fun of people for saying "not all men" it was beautiful

[maplenvibes]

Things I have said playing hades 2 include but are not limited to..

"I think I got this, I mean i played the first one.... why is there a magic bar?"

“GRANDMA IS READY FOR WAAARRR”

“An yes after death you don’t go to heaven you meet a twink”

“Artemis is throwing fast food at me

” “Where is your husband Charon?”

“WOMAN!

” “Can I pet the familiars?… 10/10 game”

“Ok the moon gave me something what- HOLY SHIT”

“FIRE BABUSHKA!”

“Where is your husband Aphrodite?"

"I found Aphrodites husband and he is hitting my enemys with a hammer"

“OH GOD NOT THE FISH”

“I’m going to be the boatman’s bestie and no one can stop me”

“Hypnos, more like comatose.”

“Shut the fuck up homer.”

"One moment I know were in the middle of a fight but I saw a moly over there”

"oh hay its my grandpa i'm trying to kill, hi grandpa i'm trying to kill"

"WHY AM I IN ASPHODEL!?"

(like 2 rooms after the last quote) "WHY IS SCYLLA MIKU!?"

"I don't like him he's mean" (refuring to Cronos)

"YOU CAN WALK!?" (referring to odysseus)

"hello Hermes your husband misses you."

*breaking out into song whenever Hecate says "total eclipse"

"I wonder if zeus's hair is fluffy?"

"onward into the royal waterways! wait wrong game"

"thunder beats fish, pokemon has tought me well"

"oh god the embodyment of creation is hot."

"YOU TAKE THE MOON AND YOU TAKE THE MOON AND YOU TAKE THE MOON AND YOU-" (this went on for 2 minutes it was 3am and I was a bit delirious ok?)

"fuck you, hammer time"

"time to attack skelly! i'm sutch a great freind!" "

Moros is literally just absol but human"

"I miss my murder sheld, and bear claws, and spear"

"THESE TORCHES ARE SHIT THEY DONT SET THINGS ON FIRE"

"birb. oh bye i guess"

"I am collecting nyx's chirdren like funko pops."

"where am I?" (first room in fields of mourning)

"wow the creator of everything just called me boring."

"OH GOD THE DOG HAS ARMS"

"so now instead of dieing on the surface I just like, have asthma there or something?"

"you know I wasn't expecting a pirate ship level but ok"

"the dog keeps killing me"

[artxmus]

nighttime walk with law

you don't know what you expected when lawrence pulled you out of bed, hands sweating and avoiding eye contact, he stammered over his words when you looked at him confused, but never gave you a straight answer.

when he led you to the door and unbolted the locks slowly, occasionally sending you a glance over his shoulder, you could feel your blood go cold. ─ you feared the worst, that maybe you had done something wrong, that he was finally getting rid of you. you thought you'd done everything right, that he liked having you around.

you don't know what's going through his thoughts when he leads you down an alley and onto a vacant sidewalk near the apartment you called your prison. running doesn't appear to you as an option, and you remain rigid and tense, hands pressed to your sides shaking and sweating.

he's quiet as he led you while at your side, he glances at you occasionally, and you're sure that if you did try to run, you wouldn't get far. you're too scared to ask what's happening, what he's thinking.

but he eventually they gave you an answer, not a good one, but an answer nonetheless, "it's good to get outside, i guess."

what ─ what; repeats in your head and you're doing your best to keep calm despite the anxiety making you shiver. the cold chill of the wind biting your arms and sending goosbumps up your skin is almost comforting to your fearful mind. ─ you're worried this is some joke, that he's giving you a false taste of freedom before he kills you. but is he really that cruel?

─ yes, your thoughts whisper, and a part of you agrees with them.

"don't get used to it." he warns you, quiet, and you only hear it because of how alert you are to everything he does; you don't need the warning, you knew better.

you're outside, you have no walls keeping you inside and no locks to stop you. yet you've never felt more trapped at his side, as he watches you closely, carefully.

you don't try to run ─ you know there's no escaping him.

im kinda in a small writing slump so im not the proudest of this </3