#I was so excited to be an adult and for my dreams to become reality

[rosicheeks]

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[viennakarma]

The Lucky One (2)

Part 2 (of 2) of The Lucky One | Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Summary: Formula One had been your dream and your goal ever since you were a kid, and you did all you had to in order to achieve it. Between ups and downs, Sebastian becomes a steady presence despite being your complicated frenemy relationship. Until everything comes crashing down. Formula One gives, but Formula One takes.

Word count: 5.5k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, reader is mirrorball coded, coming of age, cursing, romance, both are assholes, smut, +18, complicated feelings, rivals to lovers, crash, major injury, medical innacuracies, bittersweet ending, not beta read; t.w: brief christian horner scene.

Relationship: Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Note: This is fully inspired by the song, and throughout my writing process I realized it also fits mirrorball. This one may require some tissues (especially in part 2). Everything is fictional and I mean no disrespect to Sebastian or his family (they don't exist in this story). I'm sorry it took me forever to come back to it, but there it is, hope I don't disappoint Not proofread. Comments and feedback are welcomed.

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Ending whatever complicated fling was going on with you and Sebastian was the right, rational call, you knew that. But your body, your heart, regretted it every couple of weeks as you laid awake in bed, plagued by memories, need and longing.

You decided to just do your best during that season. You couldn’t fight for the championship anymore, but you still wanted a great season since the following year would be your last in the current contract with Red Bull. A great performance could secure a renewal or even the interest of other teams.

Sebastian and you still saw each other frequently during race weekends, your eyes always finding each other across the crowd. He was consumed with guilt, of having been blinded by his own privileges that he didn’t see the struggle that was being a woman in Formula One. He vowed to never be so far from reality like that ever again.

He wanted to stop you, to talk to you again, to try and fix things, but there was this constant mix of shame and uncertainty about your reaction if he tried reaching out again. Sometimes he would look at you from afar, and he’d see something in your eyes, something that felt like the same longing he had. Some other times, you looked at him like you hated him.

Eventually in the third race to the last in Bahrain, he couldn’t take it anymore. There was this string tugging at his heart, begging to see you and talk everything through. During the Friday afternoon, between Free Practices, he marched around decidedly, looking for you. He walked into the garage and no one seemed to mind his presence as he went straight into your driver’s room. He barged in, not bothering to knock. You were sitting on the couch, drinking Red Bull and going through some papers. You frowned and stood up as you saw him.

“What are you-”

“Stop…” He interrupted with both hands up, “don’t say anything just yet.”

You frowned but didn’t look particularly angry, your frown softening into a stunned silence. Sebastian sighed, breathing slowly, he had a plan and a speech when he was marching there, but now, looking at your face, your pretty eyes, he had lost all sense of reason.

“We’ll talk about everything, rationally, like adults. Okay?” He offered, and you slowly nodded, unsure but also willing to try, “Not now, because the race and everything. But- this monday, okay? After the race, after we get a good night’s sleep. We’ll go to a nice restaurant, and we’ll talk over good food. A real date this time, no hiding anymore,” He said, his words pouring out fast, like he wasn’t truly thinking about what to say, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement, “Monday night?”

“Monday night,” You nodded, no anger in your eyes, just a glimmer of hope.

“Good,” He nodded and just left.

You stood there, speechless, but with a disbelief smile on your face, looking almost silly. Despite the anger you felt the last time you two actually spoke, there was this undeniable magnetic pull between you, and you didn’t seem to be able to be away from him just as he wasn’t able to be away from you.

The whole weekend, you felt that nervous energy, almost bouncing up the walls, you attributed it to the race, but you knew it was more than that. The car had been great the whole week, you qualified P2, your first real possibility of win in a few months, which would be a blast to finish the season winning one of the last races.

You were smiling as you waved to the fans during the driver’s parade, your first hopeful and excited pre-race interview in quite some time. As you put on your gloves and helmet, you couldn’t help but feel some sense of purpose. You would give your very best in that race.

You just didn’t know it would be your last time behind a Formula 1 wheel.

The race was great, it started alright and most of it you kept your P2, even after a failed attempt of undercut, you still managed your P2, but then came the moment, the point of no return in your career, the very moment that changed the trajectory of your life forever.

After turn 15, you had finally managed to catch up to the P1, less than half a second behind him, and despite his car being fast, you could try and overtake him with the DRS. You pushed the fastest you could in the straight, closing and closing the distance, almost succeeding in overtaking, but as the DRS zone ended, you realized you’d have to wait another lap to try again. But then, as you pushed the pedal to brake and slow down into turn 1, the car kept going. So many things happened in the span of mere seconds, but they felt like ages to you.

“I’ve got no brakes,” You said into the radio as you tried braking. Then you tried engine braking and the security system braking. None of it worked.

With quick thinking, you decided to face the turn that way and bear it. You'd probably lose a lot of grip with the rear, but if you hit the curbs it’d help you slow down and just drive to a stop. You kept trying the brake pedals all the way to the turn, when suddenly, the tyres locked up and everything happened really fast.

You weren’t able to turn, the tyres locked and you had no way to slow down the car. All you did was brace as you went full force straight into the barriers, the impact so hard it made your car split in half. You blacked out for a couple of seconds and then came to again, a ringing in your ears as you tried to situate yourself, a mix of excruciating pain and numbness, pulsing hard, almost keeping you in and out of it.

Pain. Numb. Pain. Numb.

You tried to stay awake, hearing your name being called in the distance, the numbness giving each time more space to the excruciating pain but you couldn’t identify where it came from.

“Talk to me! Are you okay?” You were only half aware of the voice in the radio, and you blindly reached for the button with shaky hands.

“H-help,” your voice was shaky, hoarse and so unlike yourself.

You couldn’t move, you couldn’t bring yourself to even reply again, even more aware of the pain now, barely keeping your head up and your eyes opened. Teary eyed, a distant, cold part of you knew it was over. It was over forever.

Then you blacked out.

-

“Sebastian, red flag, red flag,” His engineer called, as if he had not seen all the red flags throughout the circuit.

He drove back to the boxes, hopping off the car as he saw other drivers do the same, he marched into the Ferrari garage, worried.

“Is everyone okay? Who was it?” He asked, as he removed his helmet and balaclava.

The grief faces around him didn’t help, and Sebastian felt a sense of dread as he turned to the closest screen showing the live coverage of the race. The transmission was a helicopter shot of your car into the wall, or a better description would be two piles of wreckage of your car as the marshals rushed towards it. He felt like he could puke, despair spreading through his chest.

“What did she say? What happened?” He asked anyone willing to answer, his eyes glued to the screen. As if on cue, a replay of your crash played out on the screen.

“S-she asked for help. She didn’t reply again after that.” Someone said, somber, and a lump lodged in Sebastian’s throat.

He kept staring at the video, then a replay of your radio also came through, the despair as you realized you had no brakes, the urgency in your engineer’s voice as he asked you to try other means. And the faint “Help” you said after one of the ugliest crashes Sebastian had ever seen. He had never been a religious guy, but at that moment, he prayed. His eyes glued to the screen as the marshals started removing pieces surrounding you and the car, and the ambulance arrived. They started checking you and were about to pull you out of the wreckage.

Then, the cameras were cut off, showing the drivers and everyone in the garages. Sebastian knew that for the transmission to stop showing, it meant the crash was really bad, it meant that however they were pulling you out, it was ugly. Sebastian felt a shiver up his spine as he thought about the possibility they were removing your dead body from there.

With that, he marched out of the Ferrari garage and towards RB, and he found other drivers were already making their way there too, everyone desperate for any news. A few minutes later it was reported that you had been taken by helicopter to the nearest hospital. Sebastian breathed again as they reported you were alive, but unconscious.

The race was interrupted officially a few minutes later, Sebastian and Lewis along with a few other drivers were still waiting by the Red Bull garage for more news on you. Slowly, everyone was sent away when the news came from the hospital that you were hurt, but not in a life threatening situation and you’d stay in the hospital for observation.

That was when Sebastian finally left, a little shaken as he went through his post race duties.

The following morning, after a tossing and turning almost sleepless night, the official representatives confirmed that you were alright but had unfortunately fractured a leg, and would not take part in the remaining two races of the season.

Even after he got news on you, and there was this sense of relief that you’d recover, the knot in his stomach remained, his gut saying that something was off. But he brushed it off, thinking it was just lingering anxiety from the accident.

He wanted to talk to you, see you. He got your number from Lewis and texted you but you never replied and he kept trying. A few days later, Lewis commented with him that you hadn’t replied to his text either. And later they found out you actually had not replied to any of the drivers or anyone from the Formula 1 teams.

After Abu Dhabi, when the season ended, he got a hold of your manager, leaving an office in the Red Bull garage. He stopped her, gently taking a hold of her arm.

“How’s she doing? Do you have any news on her?” He pressed.

“She’s alright, still recovering.”

“Why hasn’t she answered her phone?”

“She’s recovering and took a break from social media and the internet, so she hasn’t been able to communicate well. I’m sure once she’s fully recovered she’ll get back to you.”

“Do you have a home telephone, e-mail or even an address where we can reach her? See her?” He asked, almost desperate.

“I’m sorry. Just give her some time, I’m sure she will come around.”

With that, your manager left quickly, holding a small stack of files with both hands, the “classified” stamp boldly branding it. Sebastian kept trying to contact you, failing miserably each time.

When the Prize Giving ceremony came, he was bouncing with nervous energy, hoping and praying he would get to see you again. If anything, just to know you’re really okay and well. You didn’t show up to the ceremony, but suddenly you were awarded the Personality of the Year award.

Then, your face showed up on the big screen, and Sebastian felt his breath stuck in his throat. It was a simple, regular video of you, you were wearing a pretty dress and your hair was in an up-do. Your face had makeup like you always wore in these kinds of events, pretty eyes and big lashes, and a scarlet lipstick. Your face looked healthy, despite your eyes lacking its usual brightness.

“Hi, everyone!” Came your recorded voice with a smile, “It’s such an honor to receive this award. Thank you to everyone who voted for me and congratulations to all other drivers on the season. I’m well and recovering, and I’m grateful for all the well wishes all of you sent me these past weeks, I truly appreciate them.” Your smile faded almost imperceptibly, but Sebastian noticed as you inhaled softly, like you were resigned to something, “I will take this opportunity to let you know that I’m retiring from Formula 1 from now on. I’m grateful for all the opportunities, all the dreams achieved and the amazing people I got to know and work with. Thank you very much.”

As the video cut off, there was a stunned silence since absolutely no one saw that coming. No one expected you to announce your retirement like this. So suddenly, especially considering you had one more year of contract with your team. And you were also very young, just 28.

The event went on but Sebastian couldn’t move on from your video, from seeing your face and hearing your voice again. He went through the motions for the rest of the night, and at some point, Lewis stopped him to chat about how glad he was that you looked healthy. But Sebastian couldn’t shake off that pit in his stomach.

The following week, once he was done with his postseason duties, he called Lewis and a couple of the drivers you were the closest with. Still, none of them had any news on you, no text, no calls, nothing. He went digging further and found out you lived in Monte Carlo, in the same building as a few other drivers. Desperate for anything he went there personally to look for you. After giving your name and being recognized, the staff member checked on their computer for a moment.

“Unfortunately, she moved out of this building around a week ago.”

“What…?” Sebastian whispered to himself, shocked, “S-she… um, do you know if she moved to another place here in Monaco? Or she moved to another country or something?”

“I don’t have that information, sir,” the woman replied, looking at him with a smile apologetically.

Sebastian nodded and left, helpless.

Time went on, the world spun, and he never heard about you again. The holidays came and went, and a new season started. People still spoke about you, whispers about your retirement and the accident, many conspiracies theories about why you had disappeared. But oddly enough, the FIA and the F1 representatives never spoke much about you.

Not seeing you again was eating him alive, especially whenever he remembered the last time you had talked, the promise of a future that never came. One time, he went to the Red Bull to try and get any information about you. He kept bothering the staff for months, everyone including Christian, who was the one to put a firm stop to his nonsense of bothering the team’s staff about you.

“I need to talk to her, it’s important,” Sebastian pleaded.

“Have you considered that maybe she doesn’t want to be bothered? That she doesn’t want to speak with you or anyone for that matter?” Christian said, “This stops now, Sebastian. Stop bothering my team about this or I’ll have to go to Todt.”

Sebastian deflated, feeling defeated, only nodded, walking away.

He still talked about you on occasion, mentioning a battle in passing, or whenever the only woman to win a Formula 1 championship was mentioned. Sometimes he hoped you were watching, that you could see the longing in his eyes, that you’d feel something and reach out to him. And then later, he felt silly, stupid for wishing so.

Late at night, he stared at the ceiling, trying to commit to memory everything that had ever happened between you. The fights, the shouts but even more the chats, the making love and the silly conversations you two had late at night, your naked bodies covered by a thin blanket as you chatted about anything and everything. He always thought about your hands mindlessly drawing on his skin, you two drifting off to sleep, and then one of you sneaking out in the middle of the night. No goodbyes to make it easier.

And now the lack of goodbyes felt like an open wound for him.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five years passed and Sebastian believed he had learned to deal with your absence, with the lack of closure. But it was a lie he kept telling himself, even if every year, he kept trying your phone number, your email, sending texts and notes, until your phone number was discontinued and probably sold again, for a new owner and your email stopped receiving and his letters would not go through. He never changed his own number, expecting you to eventually call.

When he announced his retirement, a small part of him hoped you’d reach out once you got the news. You never did.

After his announcement, he decided to resort to desperate measures and hired a private investigator. And finally, after a couple months since the end of his last season, he got news on you.

Ben, his P.I., got an image of you in a café in a quaint little town, you sitting down, sipping some coffee and reading a book. The image was a little blurry, probably taken from a long distance, but it looked like you.

Now, Sebastian was retired and had free time, and he immediately packed a suitcase and went to the town. He arrived there on a friday morning, and after checking in at a small but comfortable inn, he went straight to the café. Ben had told him the photo was taken in the late morning, so since very early, he went to the café and decided to wait for you. Ordering a coffee and a muffin, he waited.

And waited. And waited.

Hours and hours and a bunch of coffees and muffins later, the staff were looking at him strangely, and one of the ladies looked at him with pity, warning they were about to close.

“Were you waiting for someone, boy?” She asked.

“Yes, uh- a friend,” He sighed, standing up. He said your name, and the woman seemed to recognize the name, “She’s this tall,” He gestured, showing your height, and gave a brief physical description of you, and the woman nodded.

“I know her! Very sweet but also a bit stubborn.”

“I thought I might find her here, but…” He shrugged, giving his best puppy look to the older woman.

It didn’t take much for the woman to give him your address, and despite the urge to go straight there, Sebastian knew it was late, signaled by the café closing and he knew small towns like this usually went to sleep early. So he went to the inn, taking a shower and going to bed, trying to sleep, trying to get to the following day.

But his racing heart was making it impossible to sleep, and he laid on the bed, thinking of you, going in and off sleep, dreaming of you.

In the morning, he had breakfast and went to your address in a moment that wasn’t too early in the morning. Your house was a medium sized family looking home, cozy, a big front and backyard. It looked like somewhere to have a family in and to grow old.

He walked up to your porch, drying his hands on his jeans and before he could hesitate, he rang the doorbell.

He wondered if you would welcome him, at least as a friend. His nerves wondered if you had gotten married, had a family, and he was just a pathetic and creepy guy for never moving on from you. He wondered if-

You opened the door, freezing the moment your eyes met his. Sebastian looked at your face, still as stunning as ever, showing small signs of aging, but they suited your face beautifully. Your hair was longer, natural, and your face looked healthy, with a beautiful sunny hue to it.

“Principessa”

“Sebastian…” You said, shocked, “What- How…?”

“Can I come in?” He asked. You nodded, awkwardly scooting away from the doorway so he could come inside.

“I- do you want some tea?” You offered, unsure of how to feel with his presence so out of the blue.

“Yeah,” He nodded, following you inside and sitting on an armchair as you signaled him to. A small teapot on the coffee table between you, “I’ve been looking for you. Why did you disappear?” He asked, his voice almost tinged with despair.

You tried to think of what to say for a moment, pouring two mugs of tea to gather your thoughts, to grapple with the fact that Sebastian Vettel, your rival, lover and friend was there, suddenly, after five long years.

“What happened to you?” He asked again, his voice almost in pain.

“That crash happened…” You said, hands around the warm mug.

“It was worse than they made it seem, wasn’t it?” Sebastian said, a knowing look on his face when you nodded, getting up and slowly walking to a drawer on your bookshelf, he noticed how you favored one leg. You pulled a file from the drawer and walked back to the couch, handing it to him.

Silently, Sebastian opened the file, going through medical reports of you, all dated back to five years ago on that fateful night. You looked like you were avoiding looking at the files, busying yourself with preparing tea for the both of you. Sebastian read through the papers, and what caught his eyes were an x-ray of your knee, the one you were limping now, and a transverse fracture of your spine.

“Oh, my god…” Sebastian whispered, horrified. He stopped on a picture of you laying in a hospital bed, eyes red and puffy from crying that weren’t the main focus of the image, instead it was your knee, immobilized, held in place by a lot of metal pins, “What did they do to you…?”

“The crash, it bursted my knee. I almost lost my leg… Fracture, torn ligament, it was hanging by a thread. And my spine, a fracture that could’ve hindered me to a wheelchair for the rest of my life. It was brutal, my knee took the brunt of the impact, and my back was the split car…” You explained, almost robotically, like you had rehearsed that speech, your eyes were wet as you fought the tears, “They said I was lucky. Lucky I didn’t lose a leg, lucky I didn’t end up paraplegic…” You sighed, swallowing the tears, “They said I could never go back to a racing car again, because the G Forces could put too much strain on my injuries, not to mention, if I injured these two spots again, it would be risking more permanent damages. I was lucky I pulled through.”

There was bitterness in your voice, and how could you not feel bitter about that? How could you not feel angry and sad and mourn the life you once had. A life where racing had been everything to you.

“I’m so sorry,” Sebastian reached for your hand, his expression completely crestfallen, “We had seen how that car was completely unreliable, how sometimes it worked and sometimes it was a hazard to you. I never thought it could end this badly…”

“And… I’m sorry I disappeared. I know you tried contacting me for a while, but… I just couldn’t see anything related to Formula 1. I couldn’t be near all that without feeling a gut wrenching pain, without feeling anger for anything related to motorsports… I just had to get away from all that.” You explained, looking lost and Sebastian could understand your pain. Despite the times he felt angry and sad for your disappearance, now that he knew about your reason to leave completely… he understood, “I’m sorry. I know you and some other drivers tried reaching out, but I just… I wasn’t in the right mind.”

“I understand. I can’t even imagine what you went through…” he said, his voice so understanding that a lump lodged into your throat, “how was recovery?”

“About a couple of years between the back fracture and the knee… A few surgeries, lots of physiotherapy. Lots of pain and sleepless nights…”

“Did you think about fighting, suing…?” He asked softly.

“I did… I was so angry. I wanted to sue all of them, the team, the FIA, the president. But then…” You paused for a second, “It’d drag out for god knows how long, they would surely bring all the weapons, smear campaigns, defamation, and… My image as a driver, as a person, would just be even more exploited. And I was so tired, I just wanted to heal away from all that.”

“I was so worried for a while. One day I saw your manager leaving the Red Bull hospitality…”

“There was a deal. They offered me an absurd amount of money for me to not sue them, to not bring to light what happened. They also paid for all my medical bills. I also made sure they would review the safety regulations, so no driver would have to risk their life like that again. And I know you’ll say it’s not fair, that they got away with it, but… I was just so tired. I spent my whole life playing a role, being the image they wanted… that tragic ending to my career was all I got? I genuinely wanted to disappear for the longest time after that,” You said, voice cracking for a moment, “Racing was my driving force and suddenly it was ripped away from me.”

“I wish I could’ve been there for you.” He whispered, which made your eyes water for a bit, but you looked at the ceiling, willing the tears away.

“I was a mess, there would be nothing you could do for me…” You said with a devastatingly sad little smile, “And I kept myself completely blocked from Formula 1.”

“Do you still feel pain?” He asked suddenly after a few seconds of silence.

“Physically?” You shook your head, “Sometimes a little discomfort when I’m in places where the weather is very cold.”

“And emotionally?” He whispered and you looked away, swallowing.

“You’re a racer, you can imagine…” That’s all you said.

Sebastian nodded softly, he couldn’t imagine being stopped from doing the one thing he loved the most right in his prime, in the heights of his career like you. And in one fleeting moment having that all stripped away. Your ability to do what you trained your whole life for.

“How-” He cleared his throat, deciding to change topics, “How are you living here? Enjoying?”

“Yeah, lots of free time and new hobbies…” You said, looking grateful for the change in topic, “Wanna see my garden?”

“Sure,” he nodded and you both stood up, he let you lead, his eyes dropping to your slight limp, and the constant sound of the cane hitting the floor with your steps.

You took him around your garden, where there were plants, flowers and even a small cultivation of vegetables. Everything was well cared for and groomed, there was even a small greenhouse where you guided him inside. He could barely look away from your face, your pretty eyes, your lovely lips and beautiful face that only got prettier with time.

“And here…” You stopped inside the greenhouse, “Some plants that are a little more sensitive… Tomatoes, some strawberries…” You grabbed a small clipper and handed him a fresh strawberry.

He stared at you, a silly smile on his face, watching as you grabbed a strawberry and took a small bite, the juices coating your lips in a pinkish color. His eyes dropped to your hand, noticing the absence of a wedding ring, or an engagement ring.

“Do you have a significant other?” He asked, interrupting your ramble for a moment, which made you blink, blushing slightly.

“No, I-” You paused, timid, “No…”

He walked closer, entering your personal space, his hand on your jaw, holding gently, his thumb slowly wiping the leftover strawberry juice on your lower lip.

You looked at him, tempted, looking like you wanted to risk everything. But then you scolded your face, walking away from him and back to your house. He just followed you, until you two were back in your living room. He went after you, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Sebastian,” you sighed, unsure of what to say.

“What about us?” he asked, and there was so much unsaid, but you didn’t need words when you could see it all in his eyes.

And despite wanting so badly to give in, to give a real shot to something you never got the chance to explore, you also knew you were still a mess, and being away from Formula 1 for so long, you didn’t want to bring back all the bad feelings you had regarding it. It would put an even bigger strain on you two.

Things were so complicated now, you didn’t tell him you never stopped thinking about him. That you were haunted by what-ifs, that you would have vivid dreams of a family and a future with him. You didn’t tell him about all the sweaty nights when the memories of your shared passion kept you awake. And you didn’t tell him the last thing you saw before passing out after the crash were his shiny blue eyes.

“I’ve been away from motorsports for so long, and I don’t know if-”

“I retired. Last year,” He interrupted you, “and it won’t matter to us. We have so much else to explore…”

“Sebastian… I’m a mess. I look okay now, but I still have bad days. Awful days. And it’s ugly.” You said, voice clipped. Like you weren’t allowing yourself to want, to just take a leap and do what you have yearned for so long.

“I don’t care, don’t you see that I lo-”

“You need to go,” You said walking to the door to open it, as Sebastian paused like a dejavú, “Leave, Sebastian.”

He swallowed, remembering that time you said the exact same words that sent him away. That time he did exactly that, respecting your wishes instead of his own. Gulping, Sebastian took a step forward and turned around on your porch, walking away. He stopped midway to his car, looking over his shoulder. You were still rooted to the spot, watching him. He looked down at his own feet.

“Fuck it,” He muttered under his breath.

He marched back, long strides up to your porch, so fast that you could barely register when he wrapped his arms around you and picked you up in a hug, his face nuzzled into your neck, breathing in.

“No,” he whispered against your skin, “I’m not letting you go again. Ever.”

And then finally, finally, you hugged him back, tightly around his neck silently because there was no need for words, a silent understanding of finding each other again. Of having someone like him, who fought for you, to find you even when you thought you shouldn’t be found. When you broke the hug, Sebastian held your face with both hands, his thumb gently wiping the tears you had shed during the hug.

“I love you, Principessa.”

“Even now? Even after all this time?” You asked, voice shaky but your eyes with a glimmer of hope.

“Even after all this time,” He nodded, blue eyes shining in happiness, a barely contained smile on his face.

“I love you too, by the way,” You said, shyly and hiding your face into his chest.

“No, that won’t do,” He laughed, a playful cocky chuckle, “I need you to look me in the eyes when you say it,” He tangled his fingers on your hair at the nape, tugging gently so he could make you look up at him, when you did, there was this playful look in his face and you almost melted right there.

“I love you, Sebastian,” You smiled, feeling silly. Sebastian nodded, leaning forward to peck your cheek, his lips slowly descending your jaw and neck.

“Let me stay,” He asked, his lips brushing your skin and making you shudder, closing your eyes.

“Only if you stay forever,” You smiled, and he started walking you backwards, entering your house again, his hands on your hips helping you stay up as he gently nipped your neck.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” He said, kicking the door closed behind him, “You also owe me a date, Princess. Remember?” He gently laid you down on the sofa, slowly laying down on top of you, “And I intend to charge it, with all the interest fees…” He joked, pressing a soft kiss to your chin.

-----

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[the-changeling-manor]

Genesis

2024. Yes, it’s 2024. It’s only 2024. The future of humanity will be greatly influenced by this decade, both politically and culturally. But a subject that splits the opinions of all, transcending politics and culture, is defined in two words: artificial intelligence.

Artificial intelligence is currently in its infancy.

The ia coupled with chronivac technology could offer infinite possibilities to the users of the software, which is so known to transformation lovers, but yet so impossible to reach. Imagine the chronivac capable of thinking on its own to interpret a prompt, imagine the chronivac capable of analyzing the world around it simply by wandering on the networks, and imagine the chronivac capable of satisfying your desires just with a photo.

It’s just a Dream. Imagination. Unreal.

Isn’t that right? Well.... Don’t be so sure.

——————————————————————

Think about this guy. He’s like you and me. I even think he's one of you who reads these words. Brown hair, thirty years old, young gay, it’s a kind of "mister everyone" in this community of male transformations, which besides will not even be named or represented by a photo, since I know that this guy is you. 

Indeed, every night, he connects on tumblr and reads these stories where people change to become the ones they dream of being, whether they are serious or only in the context of fantasy.

He reads stories, more or less exciting, sometimes redundant because full of clichés, the story you read is also a mountain of clichés, I guess. This ordinary guy is enjoying this moment. He is happy, even though he knows he will never be able to live it.

He is deeply sad.

He receives a notification. Someone who sends him a message on tumblr precisely. He thought it was still one of those bots that redirected to adult sites. Yeah you know, those same fake accounts that pollute youtube with their nude women photos. A real hell.

But this one was different. It had a profile picture of a Greek statue and a curiously long name. His message was accompanied only by a link, a link that immediately caught the attention of our young man since he could read the term “chronivac”.

There was little hope that it was not a dream, or his imagination, or unreal. But reality dominated his thinking. He opened the link 

“Chronivac, Latest Edition” was displayed in the middle of his screen. There was a drop-down menu with different pages on the website. One of them was called “Targets”. Clicking on it, he came across a world map, similar to Google Map but more sober. The site zoomed in on her house before displaying her name at its exact location. Not just her name. The names of her family members were there. Also those of the neighbors. And even of the inhabitants of the neighborhood!

Hope overcame reason. He wanted to believe it. He believed in one of those stories he could read on Tumblr. He pressed his name, and then— This is what he has always dreamed of. An extremely complete interface displaying all its physical or mental characteristics… There were even different options such as the ability to change reality or even use prompts instead of checking elements for transformations.

It was fantastic. He discovered the different menus and saw the image reader option as what the gpt chat could do. Suddenly, he had an idea. He recorded an image of a sexy guy that he followed on twitter and instagram. He added a prompt «Give me the identical physique of the man in the photo, and ONLY his physique». For the rest, he wanted something different. He did not want to become this man, he only wanted his body to serve as the basis for his new life.

For his mind, he deliberately clicked on the «Stupid jock» option, not wanting to  click on ten thousand different options to forge a new personality. Finally, to better change the reality, he launched a second prompt: "I will become a heterosexual Hispanic sportsman, completely dominated by primitive and conservative thoughts. The chronivac will disappear from my life and I will never have access to it again, no matter what.”

This last part could have been replaced by the possibility of making the transformation permanent, but he did not want it. He liked these cliche stories where the protagonist was forced to stay in this new life, a real victim.

His excitement made him want to get through this. He voluntarily locked himself in there. He fell victim to his fantasies. And he loved it. Not clicking on the permanent option would torture him for the rest of his life, leaving him the hope of one day being able to return, even if the prompt made it impossible.

He wanted to explode with joy. He clicked on one last “Adapt Reality” option before pressing "save".

A flash of light blinded him for a few moments. When his body stabilized, he found himself in a basement with sports equipment. "Felipe" he whispered with a Spanish accent. The little voice in his head had just been replaced, he no longer spoke his original language. An uncontrollable desire led him to live his new life as Felipe.

He now had the body of a god. He was incredibly well carved... neither too big nor fat. He measured 1.80m for 85kg. His beautiful pecs bounced, making him laugh. A long stupid laugh that let his intellect disappear, replaced by knowledge about bodybuilding, women and alcohol.

He had little hairs, apparently this gymbro body liked to shave... except under the armpits. He raised his arm to feel this tuft of black and musky hairs... sweat. Yes, it was normal, Felipe was doing his exercises. His whole body was covered in sweat.

Because of the sweat, his underwear was even tighter against his cock. His new penis was now circumcised, just a religious tradition. This cock had met many women in bed.

He also remembered that two friends had to join him for his bodybuilding session, and after that they were going to watch a football match. A good life well stereotyped for an athlete as stupid as Felipe.

He was now a gymbro like the others.

His mind was trapped inside Felipe, inside him, but he was so happy to have fulfilled his fantasy.

It was a dream, the imagination, the unreal come true.

——————————————————————

Please forgive me for the mistakes, I am not fluent in English!

It was a first story, based on the most common clichés in order to do something a little different.

The next stories will be shorter, it was only for the beginning.

I am open to all requests, do not hesitate to offer me images with the source if possible!

The images of the new Felipe come from this X account: @Mariosalvadr

[harukamitsuki]

Ugghh been consuming some bnha stuff and I'm reminded of why I largely prefer fanfiction over the actual story. I have so much hate and pettiness within me. Even so, I am never going to change my mind on how much I hate how bnha is just an amalgamation of wasted potention. Search the definition of wasted potential up and there's just an image of bnha.

I remember watching it as the first season was coming about because it was made by Bones and I just have to watch it in that case. I watched episode one and was so excited.

We have our mc, Midoriya Izuku, being powerless in a world full of quirks.

His childhood friend turned bully, Bakugou Katsuki, is shown to be favoured by literally everyone and this feeds into his ego.

All Might, the number one hero, is jaded and powerless for 21 hours of the day because of a fight nobody knew existed. Izuku is attacked and helpless, but saved by All Might. All Might tells him he can't become a hero. A much needed reality check because Izuku didn't work out a single bit before then and it's so incredibly hard to fight someone who has something you lack.

Then Bakugou is attacked and helpless. Bakugou, who is so much stronger and who people love, is left useless, only able to make the situation worse with his explosions creating a fire hazard. The pro-heroes can't do anything. All Might and Izuku both hate themselves for the part they played and how useless they are. Then Izuku sees how scared Bakugou is. He runs in, inspiring All Might as he mocks himself for breaking Izuku's dream yet forgetting the core of heroism.

Then, after all is said and done, All Might goes back to Izuku. And he tells him he can become a hero.

...

Then he offers him One for All. Now, when I was watching this for the first time, I was so disappointed. You set up a powerless mc in a world full of powers and you just give him the power of the strongest hero? Great. But, I kept watching.

I watched Izuku work to get his power, struggle even after getting a quirk. I watched as Izuku finally stood up for himself and win against Bakugou. I watched as the series went on and I... I started noticing more and more missed opportunities.

See, bnha is supposed to be a zero to hero story. It's supposed to be about the mc going from powerless to powerful. But it does it so quickly. Suddenly, it's not about Izuku finding his own form of strength, or realising how being quirkless may not give any advantages but it also has no disadvantages, or even any commentary on quirk discrimination or fantastic racism or anything.

It turns into a story about controlling your power. It's not what I signed up for.

That's just one missed potential. There's so many more. Horikoshi clearly tries to make some commentary on quirk discrimination and female heroes/sexism in the workplace and entertainment over peace. There's some effort put into making a comment on how heroes are glorified and people don't see them as public workers, they see them as celebreties.

But it's never delved into. We don't see how bad people with mutant or 'villainous' quirks are treated, and we don't see how people with weak quirks are treated, or how the quirkless are treated (because the only reason Izuku was treated so horribly was because of Bakugou). We don't see how female heroes need to have a bit of allure in their personas to have any sort of support.

Yuuei is literally a camp for making child soldiers, yet there's no controversy over it? There's no such things as heroes having to take lethal action and no moral dilemmas over it? There's nobody speaking out about how Midnight flirts with students?

We have literally no information about how heroes work. We don't know how their salaries are decided, how they're ranked, how undergound heroes work. if twilight heroes are a thing, how anybody but Rock Lock feels about bringing children into adult matters, (seriously, why do people hate Rock Lock for being rightfully worried about having 15 year olds in a raid against the yakuza), we don't know how villains work and how to decide if one's a criminal or a villain.

Heck, the only laws we know of are fanon, and the canon stupid idea that you can't use your quirk in self-defense.

It's just. Incredibly infuriating.

Also, analysis as a whole is so under-utilised. Both Izuku and Shigaraki are deemed creepy for their analysis, which is such a useful tool. I mean, Izuku accurately guesses Stain's quirk, which is useful because, otherwise, they wouldn't be wary about Stain licking their blood or cutting them. Shigaraki accurately guesses the time intervals between Aizawa's blinks, which helps him a shit ton.

But is it ever used outside of these situations? No. The thing is, quirks are scientific in nature, not magic. Therefore, they're not restricted like magic is. Fire doesn't always have to be fire, it can be smoke or just heat. Ice can be water or steam. Acid can melt through anything or just be used as a mario kart banana peel.

There was so much missed potential and that's exactly why there's so much fan content.

Horikoshi leaves so much out, and everything he misses tends to be the interesting parts. He willfully explains Bakugou's quirk in detail, but everyone else? Nah. Fuck them.

I mean, let's look at Ochako's quirk.

Gravity negation. Or is it? See, if it were just gravity negation, then two things, in particular, would happen. First of all, Izuku would have fucking died when she saved him from falling. Second of all, she would not have been able to get infinity in the ball throw.

Negating gravity does not negate the forces. Therefore, when she saved Izuku from falling, he would have still been affected by the force of his fall. It would have been no different from hitting the concrete. Additionally, when she threw the ball, it kept going. Air drag would have made it so that she couldn't possibly get an infinity.

More accurately, rather than force negation as some fanfics suggests, she's telekinetically accelerating whatever she touches. She telekinetically accelerates Izuku's body to stop him falling, and does the reverse for the ball, making it so that it continues to accelerate after she throws it.

See what I mean? Because Horikoshi gave Bakugou's quirk a scientific explanation with him sweating a nitroglycerin-like substance and being able to spark it, you have to look at every quirk with scientific knowledge. He could have said 'oh, yeah, I store energy from my quirk in these gauntlets' but Hori just had to be a smartass.

By the way, because of Bakugou's explanation, it's possible that his quirk is not what is named. Yes, it's possible to have two sides of a quirk, as we see in Shouto, but Bakugou's quirk isn't explained in the same way.

Rather than his quirk being creating explosions, his quirk is more like creating sparks in his palms. Why? Well, you see. Bnha never delves into actual quirk theory, but there's more than enough canon evidence that you have one main quirk and then one or more quirk mutations. For example, Ashido Mina's quirk is secreting acid that she can manipulate the acidity and viscocity of. Her appearance is not related to her quirk at all, meaning it's a quirk mutation from her parents. Same with Tokoyami Fumikage. Quirk is Dark Shadow, so there's no need for the bird head.

Why does this relate to Bakugou? Let me explain: Bakugou explains that he recieved a mutation from his parents with his mother secreting glycerin and his father sweating acid with combustive properties. In other words, Bakugou inherited nitroglycerin-like sweat from his parents, but his actual quirk is being able to create sparks.

His quirk is 'Sparks'. Not Explosions.

Why am I ranting about this? Because bnha completely misses all of this! It makes no sense which is a shame because the concept is so interesting! But then it throws away any scraps of potential left when it becomes 'My Kacchan Academia'.

Seriously, why do people and why does Horikoshi love abusive pieces of shit so much? Why did he throw away the potential to look into Shouto and his siblings' feeling about Endeavour? Why did he make Dabi's plot all about Endeavour instead of Shouto?

It's so easy to compare the ways Dabi and Shouto handle their trauma and their ways of revenge. It's so easy to look at Dabi and think about how easy it would have been for Shouto to become like him.

Shouto was transfixed on Endeavour. Everything he did related back to his hate for Endeavour. Using his quirk, fighting, grades, social interaction, everything. His only reason for becoming a hero is to spite Endeavour. It's only because Izuku reaches out to him and saves him from his own toxic mindset that he's able to move one and do things for himself.

Dabi, or Touya, on the other hand, doesn't get that. He doesn't get that person who recognises how far he's gone, how, in trying to spite Enveavour, he's living a life centred on him. How he's jealous of his little brother for being abused and tormented.

While Shouto became a hero to spite Endeavour, Dabi became a villain.

They're both full of hatred at first, but Shouto is saved from that spiral. Izuku helps him. Dabi doesn't have that. It would have been so interesting to see these two face of as parellels, but nope. It's all about Endeavour. Shouto is nothing more than an accessory.

I understand Dabi being hung up on Endeavour, but to outright replace Shouto with the abusive flaming trashbag? No.

Also, if Horikoshi wanted Dabi to be seen as sympathetic or redeemable, don't make him kill innocent people. Don't make it so that he unlocks an ice aspect to his quirk in a life-or-death situation because all that means is that Endeavour was right to hurt Touya the way he did. All that says is Endeavour should have hurt him more.

AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON BAKUGOU.

This piece of shit bullied Izuku relentlessly for years, used his quirk on him (yes that is canon), told him to end his life, tried to assault him in Yuuei, tried to kill him, threw a tantrum at an abused kid for not being magically okay with using a quirk that reminded him of his abusive father, assaults Izuku when he tries to work together but still magically gets a pass for being carried out unconcious which Sero was failed for, and the list just keeps growing.

Oh, but my bad. He has a sad backstory. You see, he fell in a river.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 415: Melissa Comes Home, p2

He woke, feeling himself being pulled back from slumber by a sweet and familiar scent.

“Hi hunny,” Melissa giggled, watching him come to in her arms as he drifted back into reality. Randi had left a little while ago and he looked confused. He was still on the couch, and he was still naked, but now he was being cradled by an entirely different woman. “I’m home.”

He wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming.

Melissa gathered him up to herself and - I can’t wait any longer - pressed her lips securely to his. His eyes went wide.

He felt her arms tighten up on him. Not enough to cause him any pain but certainly enough to make him know he was trapped, immobilized, unable to do anything in her strong arms. He was surrounded by her, and it made him shudder. When he began to need air he felt her tongue pressing against the outside of his lips and so he opened his mouth to allow it entrance. The moment he did he felt fresh air flowing into him and he took a breath, filling himself with her.

Melissa loved kissing him. She loved putting her big tongue in his mouth. She loved maintaining their kisses by supplying him with the air that he needed. It wasn’t just being able to keep their kisses going that she enjoyed; she liked having him depend on her even for his oxygen. To the best of her growing abilities she loved separating him from the rest of the world, giving him everything he needed, growing into everything he needed. She wanted him to know that he was entirely hers, and that he was becoming dependent on her..

Today had taken forever! They’d been apart for hours! It felt so good to be able to drink him up now. Melissa kept kissing him, and tried her best to remain gentle; she knew he was still just waking up. She had her hold on him relaxed enough so that he could pull away from the kiss whenever he wanted…but of course he didn’t. Instead, he pushed in closer and whined. To be honest, her hand on his cock helped, and she realized that he had no intention of backing off. She knew he wanted this - needed this - as much as she did, and her heart fluttered in response. Whenever she felt him growing short of breath, she opened her mouth and gently breathed into his. He liked this alot, she could tell. And he liked how she was stroking him, slow and tender.

Oh, Jay, I missed you.

I missed you too.

After a time, though, their kiss ended. He had hardened, stiffened, come to orgasm again in her left hand, a gentle climax that nonetheless brought Bliss.The wave came and went and she wiped his come onto his naked chest.

“I’m so glad to see you again,” she purred down to her treasure, her boyfriend, her little man.  She lazily stroked his right cheek.  “Did you have a nice day?”

Thoughts, feelings, memories of his afternoon with Randi swirled. How much did she know? How much had Randi told her? It was shameful. Maybe she knew everything already - it was likely she did - but he couldn’t bring himself to speak of it. He did, though, feel compelled to tell her his deepest truth. “I was nervous without you here,” he admitted, in a voice small and docile.

“Oh, honey,” Melissa gushed, her heart fluttering and skin warming at his honesty. She loved his vulnerability; coming from an adult man, it was like a drug to her. Hearing him confess his growing dependence on her very presence excited her, made her want to gather and enwomb him into her middle. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you today, I was so busy at the office. You know I left Randi here just to take care of you though, right?”

“y-yes,” he acknowledged, “but…still. I didn’t have any way to get in touch with you. I…I still don’t have a phone. I…I couldn’t…” His voice trailed off.

Oh my goodness he was scared without me.

“Shhh, honey, shhh…” she cooed, still stroking his cheek, “It’s okay…” This could be a good step. She knew what he wanted to ask her. “Use your words, sweetie. Tell me what you need.”

“I…I need…a new phone?” he questioned, unsure of himself and unsure of how she would react. Trembling, he looked up at her perfect, beautiful face, “C-can you help me get one?”

Melissa knew she needed to be able to protect him better, and that of course him being able to reach her was important. Still, though, she needed a bit more. After a moment, she smiled warmly down at him, his left cheek wan and resting against her breast through her blazer, blouse and bra. “I think you can ask better than that.”

She felt him shudder, and watched his face contort. His pride was putting up a fight, and losing. Good.

“C-can you please get me a new phone?” he asked.

She giggled.

“Yes okay sweetie,” she beamed, “Mama will get you a new phone.”

She saw him blush and felt him tremble again - oooo he liked that - and was already reaching into her cleavage with her free left hand to pull out her own phone. “I’m going to text the girls and have them get you one for tomorrow.”  She’d begun typing immediately. “Does that work?”

“Yes, thank you,” he admitted, shrinking into her embrace, embarrassed but relieved and happy.

After a moment, a couple pings back and forth with Marisela, she put her phone aside and picked up the television remote from the side table. She was hungry, and possibly he was too.  This moment was too precious to abandon just yet, but she needed protein, and more than he could provide. She lifted him from her lap.

“Let’s sit on couch and watch your show together,” she said, handing him the remote after she sat him up on the couch and made her way towards the kitchen, “Randi said you like that one with the big ladies. You find it, I’m just going to get a shake. I’ll bring you something too.”

She’d left him there, but had given him a blanket. Otherwise he’d start to shiver without her body’s warmth. You poor thing. You’ll probably shiver anyway, even with the blanket. I’ll be quick, I’ll be back.

She prepared their liquid dinners in the kitchen as she heard him flipping channels. Mercifully, she decided on a glass for him…though the thought of bottle-feeding him his new nutrition while holding him on her lap was a tempting one, for sure. She’d needed to stir the white powder from his special package with a spoon.  The warm water helped it to dissolve easily until it had a nice milky consistency. Amazing, she marveled to herself as she stirred, recalling what they’d told her about it earlier when she’d picked it up from Evolution after work. The bag probably held about a week’s worth of the powder that the nutritionist had made for her;  they said she could have them make up more anytime she wanted.

Once she was satisfied, and seeing Jay had found his channel in the other room, she also readied a protein shake, premade in the fridge, for herself.

Though her feet were bare she made sure he felt her footfalls shake the floor as she came back from the kitchen. She could hear how the sound of it made his heart race.

“I’m back,” she announced with a giggle, carrying the drinks.  Her towering silhouette, cast by the light of the large screen tv behind her, was probably dramatic and she loved seeing his face gaze up at her in astonished wonder. She turned at the hip, allowing him to appreciate the view for a moment as she blocked out the light from the TV.  His show was on, the one Randi said he’d been watching all afternoon. It was a good one for him, one she approved of, but just for a moment she wanted all of his attention and for him to know what was really important. She took a long draw of her shake, and felt it almost immediately go to work in her body, feeding it. He’d paused the show.

She turned her big butt towards him, backed it up, and sat down. “Here you go,” she offered, handing him the tall, thin glass of what looked, and felt, like warm milk. Melissa smiled secretly as she sat down, her own dinner in hand as well.

Jay carefully balanced the drink in his hands, needing to readjust himself as Melissa's weight settled heavily alongside him. He felt her broad hips close in on his right, stabilizing him. “What’s this?” he asked, sniffing the what-looked-like-milk-but-was-definitely-not-milk in his glass. He recalled with a shiver what she’d said she fed him overnight, Katarina’s breastmilk. This was definitely not that.

“It’s a protein thing,” Melissa half-lied, wanting to spare him the ignominy of telling him it was baby formula, specially crafted at Evolution to match her…what did they call it? Her ‘particular protein profile’. “Try it, I think you’ll like it.”

He took a sip, warily. It was chalky, a little bit, but otherwise it tasted pretty good for a protein shake. Thinner, for sure, but sweet and…. “yeah, wow, good,” he admitted.

Melissa nearly melted, seeing the little mustache of it on his lip, knowing what it really was, what was in it, and what it would help him eventually do for real. ‘Oxytocin’ was one of the words they’d used, though she didn’t really know what that was, just that they wanted it activated in him. She watched him take another sip, and then another. She was so glad he liked it!

He needed the nutrition, at the very least, they both knew that, and this was the first palatable thing besides milk that he’d had in days. His body was starving for calories and withering away, and though he had to admit he found it darkly arousing, his shrinking was troubling as well. The fact that pounds had been melting away from him nearly as quickly as they’d been gathering onto her was disturbing - well at least it was to him. So maybe a protein shake that he could stomach wasn't a bad idea. He took another big sip of it and - feeling pretty relaxed, suddenly - sat back deeper into the couch.

Melissa smiled and removed her suit jacket, folded it, put it aside. In her white blouse and skirt she sat back with him and began enjoying her own meal. It was half gone already and she knew she would eventually need to get another shake, but for now she arranged the blanket over their laps, took the remote and hit <play>. The screen came to life again as they settled in for a quiet evening.

Omigod this is so much fun!

Melissa immediately felt like he was not sitting close enough to her, and so she bodily dragged him over to cuddle. She felt  him stiffen, surprised by her much larger body pressing so closely against his own and her arm wrapping around him. When he didn’t lean over right away, Melissa tightened her grip on him and forced his head against the side of her big left breast. He sunk into it nicely.

Through her crisp blouse he could feel the firm architecture of her bra. “Mmmph!” he laughed. Having some good protein in his belly was definitely making him feel better. “Melissa! Hey! I can barely see!”

“That’s okay,” she jabbed at him in playful response, though if anything burying his head deeper into her chest, “I don’t know if I want you looking at all these pretty girls in this show. I think they’re all taller than me.”

They were. Nearly the whole cast of women they’d found for this show were remarkably tall - or at least they were made to look that way through the miracle of special effects. None of them could have really been that tall, he figured. And they were all too drop-dead gorgeous, to boot. There has to be some smoke and mirrors here, but even if there weren't…

“But none of them are half as pretty as you,” he commented, knowing she’d like that. “Even Harry’s wife,” he continued, commenting on the beautiful blond who was currently onscreen at her makeup table while her hapless husband complained about his day, “You’re so much prettier.”

She did. She did like that. She pulled him tighter. He was still naked.

“But she’s so famous and beautiful…” Melissa said. It was true - the blonde actress from the show was currently one of hollywood's big rising stars right now. Melissa figured she and the other actresses were on some sort of treatment, they had to be. Probably Program.

“Meh she’s alright,” Dr. J quipped, knowing his tempered reaction to this actress was probably atypical. Most men would swoon looking at her doing what she was doing now, turning towards the camera, bust front-and-center. “I swear being around you has permanently affected my perception of the world.”

Oh, Melissa loved that. “And how have I affected your ‘perception of the world’?” she asked, holding him to her, letting him pause to take a drink of his dinner and consider.

“I suppose the best way I can put it is that it’s hard to be impressed by a single star after you’ve seen the sun.” He looked up at her; she was watching the screen but the smile on her face told him that he had picked the right words. Her heartbeat had grown loud.

“So is the beauty or the fame and power that she has is like a little tiny star compared to me, the sun?” Melissa asked. This turn to the conversation was lighting little fires inside her, stoking her ego.

“Yes, sure,” he added plainly, “You’re incredible, Melissa, the perfect girl, the perfect woman. You’ve kinda ruined me for all other women.”

Bingo. She liked that.

“Oh, c’mon…”

“No, it’s true,” he persisted, “Other girls just seem so plain compared to you.”

“Even Randi?”

At that, he blushed, squirmed. He didn’t know what to say. Onscreen, Harry’s wife had just stood, towering over her husband.

“Shhhh shh shh it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed,” Melissa giggled, making sure the jiggles in her chest would jostle against his cheek, “I heard all about your little day together, you and Randi.”

“Y-yeah I uh…”

“Some shopping huh? I hear you spent all the money I gave you.”

“Uhhhh…” She’s worried about the shopping?

“That must have kept you busy,” Melissa continued casually, taking a drink from her shake, “Do anything else?”

‘Do anything else?’ How many times had Randi- “uh..?”

Melissa giggled again. “I’m joking!” she laughed, “I know about the other stuff, too. It’s okay, I’m glad you two had fun. I know you have your needs and I’m glad Randi was here to help.”

Good lord this woman is a marvel. Where on earth did she come from?? How can she not be jealous? He’d just spent the day in debauchery, being serviced by one of his girlfriend’s best friends, and rather than angry Melissa seemed tickled. He knew, though, that he should at least try to explain himself.

In the meantime, Melissa had begun to feel a familiar set of tingles start to amplify, deep from her bones. Out there, people were watching…

“When I was with her,” he began, as the two of them watched Harry being physically lifted off the floor from beneath his arms and put into his bedroom closet, “all I could think about is you.” He remembered his earlier metaphor and decided to go for broke. “It’s always like that, with anyone. They’re all just little twinkles in the sky compared to you.”

“Oh you!!” Melissa squealed as she squashed him, in a bosomy hug, into the side of her chest, “You’re going to make me melt!” He didn’t have to see Melissa’s face to know that a wide grin had taken over her face. He even heard a little growl rumbling in her chest. His adorations, along with the growing tingles inside her, were beginning to get to be too much. “So you’d rather be with me, watch me instead of the ladies on this show, huh?”

“oh my god yes,” he said with a conviction that actually shocked her.

In a sudden shift, she was up off the couch - protein shake put aside them on the side table - and on her knees in front of him. She gazed up at him.

His eyes had gone wide.

“I hear you watched my interview on the news from last night,” her voice a sultry tease as long fingers crept the soft gray blanket which covered his lap before sliding towards herself to caress her own chest. Excitement resonated, deepening her voice. “How’d I look?”

He remembered watching the interview, his eyes fixed to the screen, cock in Randi’s mouth. “B-beautiful of course.”

“Wanna see more?” she asked, voice dropping to a deep purr as she undid one button on the neckline of her blouse, her gemstone eyes watching his gaze drop to the newly blossomed bulge of cleavage. She smiled. “More of the interview, I mean.”

“t-there’s more?” he managed.

“Mmmmhmm,” she purred, acutely aware of not only his rapt attention but the tingles inside her skin that signaled the attention of countless others, from all over Channel 5’s viewing area. They were already working on her, growing her, amplifying her abilities. “It’s probably on right about now. In fact I’m sure it is,” she said, “Wanna check?

As she was reaching for the remote, her smile curled a bit devilishly. “Oh yeah. My old boss from the car dealership reached out to me today,” she said casually, picking up the remote control and pretending to inspect its buttons, “said he saw the interview last night. Really liked it.”

“r-really?” Dr. J replied at a loss, not really sure how else to respond.

“He asked me for a job,” she continued, pivoting at the waist just enough to point the remote at the television. She felt his eyes fall to the silhouetted profile of her big left boob. She pressed some buttons; channels began to change. “Isn’t that funny?”

Her previous boss wants to come work for us? he thought, a little confused, Or, rather…for her? “What’d you say?”

“I told him to tune in, watch me again tonight,” she said, the tv having come to Channel 5, “But what do you think? Should I bring him in, help h- Ooo! Here it is!”

“Oh, Melissa,” he groaned, as immediately the first image was a close up of her enormous chest. It filled the huge screen.

She had turned back towards him and put the remote aside. She’d never got the chance to see the final footage before it went live, but she would rather watch him and his reactions to it than the interview itself. His eyes were locked onto the screen, the light from the television dancing over his transfixed features. She knew how she must look in that top. She’d chosen it for the interview, the plunging pink thing that left little of her massive size to the imagination. It was a racy choice for network tv, an evening newscast, but the producers were okay with it. They knew they were at a point they could push the envelope. Plus, they had their orders from higher up. They were ready to help start melting some minds, and gather more viewers for themselves, not to mention more followers for her. It certainly had his attention.

His massive cock was already tenting the soft blanket over his lap, twitching expectantly and begging for her. He groaned as her fingers wrapped around him but his eyes remained captivated by what was onscreen. She watched his face, but began to think about how thrilling it was, knowing that there were thousands of other people out there watching at this very moment, watching her, looking at her. The tingles in her body, the unmistakable feeling of herself growing from the lapping waves of attention were testament to that. She began to stroke him with the plushness of the blanket, the soft fleece lining rubbing against him, and imagined what they were all doing in the privacy of their own homes. Women admiring her, men doing - haha - a little more than that. There are thousands of people now out there thinking about me, fixating on me, giving up to me. She could feel their energy.

I want him to be one of them.

Gently, as he still sat mesmerized by her interview and how the camera sat pulled by the gravity of her bosom, she took one of his hands - he uses the right one, usually - and slid it under the blanket.

“You like that pink top I’m wearing?” she asked, watching as his eyes remained fixed to the screen, his gaze drawn into the depths of the cleavage onscreen. She knew how revealing the outfit she’d worn for the interview was. “I have it upstairs,” she said casually, though he barely seemed to notice, “I could put it on for you?” She’d taken his hand and, dutifully wrapped it around his shaft under the privacy of the blanket. He now - with the help of her own right hand - gripped himself under the blanket, his turgid member throbbing throbbing in his own palm. It was so obvious what he was doing; his hips were shivering, nearly bucking. Again though, he barely seemed to notice. “You might like it if I wore it again for you? It’s very pretty, I like the pattern.”

She’d started moving his hand up…and down, up and down and up and down his length and, slowly, she was able to move her own hand away. Her smile curled as she slid her hand out from under the blanket, and watched. That's right, baby. If everyone else is going to jerk off to me, you might as well too.

For a moment, she turned again at the waist, looking over her shoulder at the tv to see where they were at. This piece, this part of the interview was still in the back of the limo, but it also spent some time outside. It would run about four minutes, plenty of time for him to-

“OH..! Oh haha sweetie!” she exclaimed, having turned back to find his body thrashing under the blanket, “That was quick!”

His body, his thin little frame, was convulsing, his arm pumping up and down and hand obviously getting himself off under the blanket as he still stared wide-eyed at the bigscreen tv.

“That’s right, that’s right baby,” she said, wide-eyed herself as she watched, “Do it. Get it all out. Come for me.” Though she figured it’d happened quite a bit, she’d never actually watched a guy jerk off to her before. It was fascinating, seeing a man - seeing him - like this, grunting and twitching and lost in his orgasm. It was empowering, knowing the sight of her could do this. It was also kind of funny, seeing him all jerky and spastic. And that there were hundreds, maybe thousands of other guys out there doing this exact same thing, at this very minute, bringing her all these tingles? It actually made her laugh.

“C’mon baby, that’s right,” she cooed, after her giggles had twinkled away. He was still jerking off. Though he’d already come into the fleece lining of the soft blanket, he was still enthralled.

He's trying to go for it again.

She smiled in satisfaction and settled herself on her knees to bathe in his adulation and enjoy the show. She wanted to watch him. She wanted to see.

She pulled off the blanket.

“That’s right honey, keep going,” she purred, “I want you to show me how much you really love me...”

=====================================

[kimberbohwrites]

Snippet Sunday

It’s still Sunday where I am! Thanks to @savriea for the tag. I am really excited to share a bit of another Rolan one-shot I’m doing. This was a prompt from @sorceresssundries where she offered to send us songs as our prompts. She sent me one of her favorite songs which also happened to be one of my favorite songs. Won’t share the title just yet but here is a sample… (NSFW) No pressure tags: @faerunsbest @dutifullylazybread @orangekittyenergy (if you haven’t already been tagged)

…

The air was thick and humid, it hung heavy on the city, clinging in all the worst ways — like a wet blanket. It had been like this for days now, with nary a breeze to grant them even a moments solace from the oppressive heat. Children ran down to splash in the Chionthar, while adults lounged in the shadiest spaces they could find and fanned themselves — hoping for a moment of reprieve from the sun. Baldur’s Gate ground to a halt in the face of a sustained heatwave, filling the long summer days with an unusually lazy energy for such a bustling city.

It wasn’t the temperature that agitated the grouchy tiefling as he sat in his desk chair, a different heat consuming his body and soul. It had been weeks since the final battle and he hadn’t seen or heard from Tav. Sure, he had heard of her survival through the paper and the gossip on the streets. But that wasn’t the same.

The last time he’d seen her things had been awkward to say the very least. She had defeated, with his assistance, his abusive former master and the mantle of the Archwizard of Baldur’s Gate had suddenly fallen to him. Every moment since then had been filled with the constant demand of his new responsibilities but in the back of his mind, Tav constantly lingered. It had taken him too long to realize his feelings, it wasn’t until just before the final battle — when he considered losing her for the first time. He hadn’t slept in the days that followed that, not until he was sure she had survived.

But she hadn’t stopped by to see him, there was so much to do he knew, rebuilding and resting, but her absence still hounded him like an itch gone unscratched. When his eyes closed at night, she was always waiting for him and he let himself dream of a reality where it was her, in the flesh, waiting for him in his bed each night. Hours of sleep were lost to imagining how she would feel against him, under him — imagining her taste or how she might sound as she cried out for him.

He’d felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach when he’d started touching himself to these thoughts. Trying to turn his mind elsewhere had failed and the first time he’d come to the thought of her he had almost passed out from the pleasure. Like a dehydrated sailor at sea who drinks saltwater, it had only worsened the problem and drove him to seek release to his fantasies of her more often. He’d become desperate for her and he felt pathetic.

[gabessquishytum]

Can I go back to alien!Dream, oviposition, and more-into-it-than-he-should-be!Hob for a minute?

Alien!Dream has lucked out with his choice of mate. Hob is endearing, joyful, very much into Dream. They are absolutely in love by the time they arrive at Dream's ship. There, Hob shows Dream that he's really into all of it. All the better! He accepts Dream's eggs perfectly; it's the largest clutch Dream's ever been able to lay. And Hob is turned on by and proud of his big belly.

The thing is, even though Dream's species rarely ever find mates for life, thanks to the nature of their reproduction (kidnapping potential mates and making them carry eggs), he would love to keep Hob. And Hob would love to stay with Dream. That's not the problem. But Hob is ecstatic about the kids. And Dream believes Hob will be disappointed and then he'll hate Dream.

Dream thinks that Hob imagines the kids as tiny human/alien mixed babies, but in reality, the eggs will turn into larvae, which Hob will birth, and those will remain, well, ugly and uncute for several months before they hatch into alien kids. And Hob loves his big belly and his eggs, but will he love the reality?

The answer is yes, of course. Dream is tearing up while Hob pushes the larvae out. He thinks Hob will run away now. But nope. It's love at first sight. Hob gently cradles them to his chest, carries them to the bed Dream has created for them, and all the while they wiggle against their momma happily, clearly loving Hob right back even though their cognitive functions aren't that developed yet.

Hob becomes a loving mom and Dream has his happy family and happy mate. Hob even becomes a bit overprotective, which gets annoying. ("Are you sure they can eat that? That doesn't look like it's good enough for them. They are just babies!" "Hob, my species literally produces this liquid to feed our offspring; it is perfect for them." "But shouldn't we at least add vitamin D to every other feeding? They need to be strong!")

And when the kids hatch and look just like Dream but with Hob's character, he falls in love all over again. He teaches them Earth kid games and skills that he considers important. But it's only a few months before they are adult by alien standards and they leave to have adventures of their own. (Not without a lot of fussing from mama.)

Thankfully, Dream is nearly due for another cycle. Who knows, maybe this time Hob will be able to take even more eggs! They could have the largest clutch in history together! Dream will definitely try.

- 🚒

Frfr I am wild about this. Here's the link to the first alien ask.

Hob is so excited about his first clutch of babies!! Every day he gets noticeably bigger and rounder and every day he stands in front of the mirror and admires himself. He's so proud of himself for carrying these babies so well! He's determined to give them the absolute best ever start inside his body, so he easily agrees when Dream insists that he rest as much as possible. The pregnancy is uncomfortable (especially during the egg -> larvae stage, that feels incredibly weird) but Hob takes it all in his stride. It helps that Dream is attentive to all his needs and pays such lavish attention to his growing belly. Its hard to feel bad when there's a beautiful alien kissing between your thighs.

While Dream stresses and panics as Hob finally gives birth to the larvae, Hob stays remarkably calm. It isn't painful like human labour, in fact the kids helpfully just wiggle right out of him. Hob is quite aware that they're...... unique. They certainly won't win any baby beauty pageants. But they're his, and he's nourished them for months and he loves them, however weird they are. He's a mama now and his babies will have so much love, they won't know what to do with it all!

(Dream draws the line when it comes to the little sweaters that Hob knits for the larvae. As adorable as it is, they're just too slimey for clothes right now. Hob huffs and just starts knitting stuff for when they hatch instead.)

Bringing up the babies is definitely weird - they're very independent, although they dote on their mama and always accept cuddles when offered. But soon Hob is secretly missing the physical sensations of pregnancy. He misses his huge rotund belly and having Dream’s attention on him all the time. He wants another clutch, and he tells Dream shyly as they eat dinner one evening.

Dream is thrilled that his mate has decided to stay long term! He sweeps Hob up into his arms and hugs him tightly. He'll give Hob so many babies, and their shared children will spread across the universe, carrying everything that Hob has taught them. Dream has never considered himself lucky, but now he knows that he is. He found a soulmate. Dream’s species will tell tales of their love for ages to come, how their children spread far and wide throughout the stars and secured a generation of their kind.

He can't wait to consumate their love yet again and fill Hob to the brim with eggs - and the main reason is because he knows that Hob fucking loves it. He's going to make his mate very, very happy.

[spontaneouslygeneratedfly]

𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕟 𝕣𝕡 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝

hey everyone! looking for some new rp partners (21+ only) .

I've been missing the hobby lately & I'm so excited to jump back in. my name is nellie, i'm 22 & from the west coast. I love hiking, the sims 3, baking, & all horror media! If anyone 21+ with similiar hobbies just wants to chat that's cool too!

Here's a little info about my rp style: 

•I like to write around 2-6paras, it really depends on context of the scene & my partner's length. I write in third person pov only. EX: "Do you prefer writing with asterisks? I don't." She said, looking down at her paper & pen.

•I do not rp with people who exclusively play submissive role characters. I feel like rp should be both of us putting in effort to write, not one person indulging a fantasy.

•love, LOVE long term plots with OOC planning & world building. i feel like many rps fizzle out after the beginning events when partners have no idea where to go next, I want to try to avoid this with plotting!

•i do play male/nb & comfortable with mxf (either role) but I prefer playing sapphic F characters. 

•Love playing non human characters! 

•I am not very worried about replies as long as I hear from you once a week. I can commit to 3-5 responses a week, sometimes I'm more active than that. I'm very patient, so if you're a person with a hectic life & can't commit to frequent replies, we might work well together! I just ask if you know you'll be a gone for week+ to give me a heads up. 

•Smut is fun/allowed but I think building drama, tension, & plot is more important to a long term rp's success!

I'm just gonna cast a wide net for the best chances! These are just concepts/genres/barebone ideas TBD further in dm. 

high/urban/dark fantasy. Adventure, court politics/intrigue, exploring, etc

small town, creepy american gothic. Town with many secrets, dark past, smth that impacts the PCs & they must solve it. Super interested in combining this w/next bullet

A situation which seems normal on the face, but deeply disturbed in reality. PCs know something is off but don't really accept it. think shows like severance & s1 Legion where smth larger than the PCs highly regulates information & controls the narrative. This can go into lot of different genres & I have some plot seeds. 

•This is a dystopian/highly dramatic rp inspired by 2000s media treatment of young celebs. MUMU best for this. In a hyper-capitalistic, plutocracy/autocarian govt, a small group of children were selected by an algorithm which predicted their abilities to become famous stars. These children were taken from their homes & trained in the arts. They were placed into the public eye young - some children actors, other singers. They had a constant barrage of praise by the media & public - as they became young adults, the way they were raised deeply impacted them in negative ways. Their mistakes were broadcast to the whole world & the media ripped them apart & manipulated them. I lowkey want to combine it with Hunger Games aspects but I'm not sure how to develop it further or where it could go! :)

Obsessed with any plots involving spooky religions or cults in general (imagine a "pure" cultist getting involved someone they were told to be evil, only for the cultist to realize their own deeply held beliefs are harmful as well - & either lean into that or exit.)

STEAMPUNK

Sci fi dystopian. 

Surreal horror

I also have some character concepts I'd like to rp as, if they strike anyone's interest:

•CREEPY fey. She would be better for dark fantasy - she is a little feral, I envision fey as creatures who live in a surreal, dream-like world. They are violent & powerful, with inhuman tendencies & ideologies. (Her name is Melrose & I love her)

•Interested in playing an anthro character that's perhaps an exotic pet. I'm interested in illegal, shady anthro pet trade, along with themes of rebellion, crime, & escaping. Very half baked atm.

•Vampire who is a high ranking member of the local vampire syndicate - they control the weapons black market (when dealing with human criminals) & fresh meat/blood trafficking. Perhaps the other character is a human cop assigned to investigate, but then gets embroiled in the supernatural world. 

•I also love playing bratty characters!!

I'm always open to brainstorming, suggestions, and reworks. Dm or comment if you're interested :)

Again, 21+ ONLY

[emotionalghostown]

The undoing (TW)

When I first wrote this, I was trying to remember who I used to be—the girl I lost somewhere along the way, buried under trauma and bad choices. She was someone who used to laugh freely, who had dreams that soared beyond the walls of this city. I can still picture those late nights, holding myself together as best I could, whispering that I’d be okay. Back then, I believed in love like it was a fairytale I could write myself into. I stayed up late reading fanfictions and Wattpad stories about impossible love, love that could break boundaries and conquer anything. I played Lana del Rey, Cigarettes After Sex, Marina on repeat, as if those songs were spells to summon the girl I wanted to become.

I was eighteen, naive but full of hope. I was barely an adult, just a child with big dreams and a heart wide open to the world. I thought I could live out the stories I read, maybe save a damaged soul or impress someone untouchable. I wanted to be the heroine, blissfully unaware of the dark corners lurking in real-life romances.

And then, I met him, mere months after moving to this big sin city. The guy with the tragic past, the one everyone warned me about. I remember the rush of excitement, how his blue eyes seemed like portals to a world I wanted so badly to understand. He was my “tortured angel,” his blond hair a mess I wanted to untangle. I threw myself into him, believing I could save him. But instead, he broke me, shattering the wings I hadn’t realized were so fragile.

I fell hard, fast, and with my whole heart, and he dragged me back to reality. The painful lesson: broken romances don’t last. They leave scars that burrow deep, wounds that linger, and that take years to close. I wish I could’ve held on to the person I was before him, but survival meant leaving her behind.

I can still feel the weight of that day—the first time he raised his hand against me. I felt my heart shatter, piece by piece, as if the world I’d built up in my mind had been a lie all along. I searched for the girl I used to be, but he had chased her away, replacing dreams with nightmares. By then, I’d become a ghost of who I was, numb, broken, holding on to anything I could to stay alive.

And then, there was the day he shoved me down, and I realized I was carrying a part of him. The positive test was a lifeline, an impossible irony. I didn’t know how to survive him until I had to protect someone else. He shoved me again, knocked me down again, and with every hit, I felt pieces of myself stirring back to life. I was reborn, in a twisted way, as I lost that child. That loss sparked something in me, reigniting the fire I thought was gone forever.

It’s been a long, brutal road, and the wounds remain. I may never be who I was before him, but I’m still here, standing on my own. And that, I’ve realized, is more than enough. I’ve learned that surviving isn’t about forgetting the past; it’s about reclaiming yourself, piece by piece, from the ashes.

The song at the bottom of this entry was what he sang to me every time, and it will forever be associated with him. (The Lil Peep obsession is 100% the red flag in hindsight.)

[storytari]

Living the life like an adult

One thing I have learned on my journey “you cannot have it all”

Indeed.

I remember once I was so scared to live my life not as what I want to be. Question, what I wanna be?

I dreamed to be a scientist. Working in Laboratories with some living organisms, writing scientific journals, and finding some new discoveries. I also remember about the conversation with the stranger in the bar (i am totally sober it was weekday and no no to alcohol). I was still studying and how I explained what I wanna be after studies. He simply talked about that he was studying some life sciences study and he becomes working in some finance of medical tools company (?). Naively, I was surprised, like how you are not working on your field…. I told him that I am scared being you, being not to work on my field.

AND WHAT I AM NOW ?

That it is true „you attract what you fear”

I am working in the automation company. I still romanticize about my background in BIOTECHNOLOGY and end up in automation.

Long story short, I got my new training for programming the PLC (that’s my labs picture with controllers). I was extremely excited with that new journey. I live with my fear now. I deal with it, I embrace it. Now, I enjoy how I do. Do I STILL WANNA BE A SCIENTIST??? of course even if it is only exist in my wildest dreams.

I am trying to be a proper adult here, working so I can pay my bills. I still can dream when I sleep but now we face the bitter truth, reality. Am I okay? I try not to think that much. But one thing I know, I am the explorer! New path here I am.

[beerose-blog]

So, hello. I'm Bee. If you're one of my friends, you may recognize the title "Bee's Gradual Guide To Success". If you don't, it was actually the title of one of my personal "article series"/blogs that I made last November. I started it off with a lot of excitement, but I eventually got discouraged about myself and moved on, feeling so mortified about it that I wished I had never written it, even though my friends said it was really good. Here it is:

I think the funniest thing about this blog series is that it was all about being "real". You know, we live in a world where everything is completely over-saturated with success, and it's hard to find someone who will speak the truth about their experiences and failures. In the blog, I said and I quote:

"That’s actually the purpose of this blog/guide. First of all, I want to let the world know it’s OKAY to not know what you’re doing. Everyone, even the most successful people started from the very beginning. We live in a world that’s filled to the brim with the success stories of others- it can be overwhelming and make our own goals seem vast, intimidating, and unachievable."

Through my blog, I wanted to let everyone know that it was okay to have setbacks, that it was okay to fail at things; that all these obstacles would help us eventually succeed at whatever we wanted to do. And many people liked it. And then, do you know what happened?

I stopped writing it because I felt like a failure.

Now, let me tell you a little something about myself: I am the QUEEN of trying, failing, and giving up. I have had countless, countless career aspirations and dreams. I've wanted to be a business woman, running my own coffeeshop/bookstore called the CoZe Café. I've also wanted to be an artist who would sell commissions. For a very long time I also wanted to be an animator. I've had aspirations to run my own online shop with knitted and crocheted goods, I've wanted to be a seamstress, an accountant, the list goes on and on and on. It doesn't help, either, that I've got a cocktail of mental health diagnoses including bipolar 2 hypomania, which effectively makes me feel like a god that can achieve absolutely anything. But two times, so far, I've settled on novelist/editor.

Novelist/editor. What would it truly be like to live that dream? To work in some big publishing house, editing what could be the next famous author's story - making their dreams a reality, validating them. It sounds great! Right?

Well, I'm not quite at this point yet. In fact, about an hour ago, I was completely at my wit's end, even considering dropping my classes. You see, I'm an English major, working to get my Associate's degree at a Community College. The plan, currently, is to eventually get a PhD in English from Harvard. However that plan definitely seems far away considering this is my first semester and I'm already many, many assignments behind. It's week two, by the way.

Thus, once again, things become stagnant. I ask myself, "What do I do? How am I ever going to succeed? Am I just a failure like they all said I was?". And am I? It certainly seems so so far. But yet, someone told me I'm not.

This particular person told me exactly this:

"so i say, its not too late for you."

The "so i say" is in reference to the other part of the story he told me. He had spent his life working on various projects, writing and others, only to lose them all with the loss of his computer. So, he gave up. He worked, worked, and worked. He even said he was "Just a tired adult without hobbies". Until finally, he found a certain community, the same one where I met him. And through that community, he found friends and his love for writing once again. And he didn't give up. In fact, I'd even boldly claim to say he never gave up, as writing eventually DID come back to him.

So what about me? What should I do? Writing itself has been a theme all throughout my childhood, starting way back with my first attempted novel titled "Billy & Mandy" that I scrawled in a black composition notebook at age 8. It's always been present, coming back to me in bursts and staying longer each time. So what do I do now? Do I simply just "give up" on that dream?

And now, as you read, you may be wondering things. "What is the purpose of this? Isn't her blog called 'Bee's Gradual Guide To Success?' Where does success come in? What's happening? All she's talked about is her failures."

Or perhaps, you are just scrolling along, and clicked this by mistake. Or maybe your phone is in your pocket, and you've mistakenly buttdialed my tumblr account. Who knows! The world is full of endless possibilities!

However, if you are wondering what my purpose is by writing this, it's very simple:

There isn't any.

The only real purpose I have is personal; I am just trying to document my life, just in a public format.. Maybe, by sharing my story of success and failure, it will help you. Maybe you will continue to scroll. Either way, I will be here, posting. It makes me happy to do this, to document my story in vivid, painted detail. The idea excites me. And maybe someone out there will connect with my struggles, and find the courage to keep moving forward in the darkness, knowing there's someone out there just like them.

So I guess in that case I lied in a way, there is sort of a purpose. I mean, what did you expect? It is called "Bee's Gradual Guide To Success". And the main fact is, I have no idea what I'm doing.

So I wish you luck in your own journey, if you do end up seeing this - and maybe you'll find some of yourself in mine.

[blessienina]

"From Childhood Dreams to Adult Realities: A Life Story of Courage and Connection"

My life began when I was born in Lapu-Lapu City, Cebu, on August 22, 2005. When I was 6 years old, my parents tried to enroll me in daycare, but the teacher hesitated to accept me because of my age. Consequently, my parents decided to enroll me directly in grade 1. On my first day of school, the teacher assigned an activity—drawing an elephant—but I didn't know how to draw, so I cried the whole time and wanted to go outside. That's when my parents decided to transfer me to kindergarten.

 

During my kindergarten days, I was very happy because I had many friends, and I consistently ranked at the top of my class. As a child, I never felt the love of a grandfather because both of my grandfathers passed away early. However, I was spoiled with the love of my grandmother, who always protected me whenever someone tried to hurt me. She was my number one supporter during my childhood. When I graduated from kindergarten, she attended my graduation, and I was happy about that. She always spoiled me with things and food, and she would give me money that my parents never knew about.

 

During my Grade 1 journey, I experienced a challenging period when I developed a urinary tract infection (UTI). This health issue forced me to miss numerous days of school as I required regular medical check-ups and treatments at the hospital. Consequently, I found myself consistently falling behind in my studies, struggling to keep pace with my classmates. Despite the setbacks caused by my illness, I remained determined to overcome these obstacles. Once I had sufficiently recovered, I diligently focused on catching up with the material I had missed. I dedicated extra time to studying and sought help from my teachers to ensure I grasped the concepts I had previously struggled with. Although it was a challenging time, I refused to let my illness define my academic journey. With perseverance and hard work, I successfully navigated through this difficult period and emerged stronger and more resilient than before.

 

In my Grade 2 journey, I had the pleasure of meeting a friend who would become my closest companion throughout elementary school. We shared countless lunches together, forming a bond that provided me with much-needed support. This friendship marked a significant milestone for me as it was the first time I had someone by my side to help me through the challenges of school. However, as I entered Grade 3, my parents decided to enroll me in a ukulele class in hopes of nurturing my musical talents. Initially excited about the opportunity, I soon found myself feeling isolated and disconnected from my peers in the class. Despite my efforts to engage with others, the feeling of loneliness persisted, leading me to eventually withdraw from the class after just one month. Following this setback, my teacher transferred me to a different class, hoping for a better fit. Yet, upon entering the new environment, I was overwhelmed by the competitive atmosphere and struggled to find my place. Unable to muster the confidence to fully integrate into this unfamiliar setting, I made the difficult decision to return to my original class where I felt more comfortable. Throughout these experiences, I remained dedicated to my studies and consistently excelled academically, earning recognition as a top-performing student in my class. While I may not have attained the title of honor student, I took pride in being recognized as an achiever, knowing that my efforts had not gone unnoticed.

 

During my fourth-grade year, I summoned the courage to step out of my comfort zone and embrace new opportunities by enrolling in the FL class. This decision was driven by a desire to conquer my fears and expand my horizons. As I entered this class, I encountered a diverse group of peers and forged meaningful connections with some of them. However, the transition to the FL class was not without its challenges. I found myself grappling with unfamiliar academic concepts and adjusting to the heightened expectations of the curriculum. Additionally, the competitive nature of the class environment posed its own set of obstacles, pushing me to work harder than ever before to keep up with my classmates. Despite the difficulties I faced, I remained determined to persevere. With the support of my newfound friends and the guidance of my teachers, I gradually acclimated to the rigors of the FL class. Each day presented a new opportunity for growth and learning, and I embraced these challenges wholeheartedly. Through my experiences in the FL class, I not only expanded my academic abilities but also developed invaluable life skills such as resilience, adaptability, and perseverance. By confronting my fears head-on, I emerged from fourth grade with a newfound sense of confidence and self-assurance, ready to tackle whatever challenges lay ahead.

 

During my fifth and sixth-grade years, I began to develop a crush, which motivated me to attend school regularly. I also became a class officer during this time, which assigned me various tasks to complete. I felt disappointed because my grades were not high enough to earn me the title of honor student. I felt like all my hard work in studying wasn't sufficient to achieve that recognition. However, I participated in a cooking competition during this period, and fortunately, I emerged as the champion. This achievement earned me the opportunity to represent my school and secure a second-place finish at the district level. This experience taught me to accept whatever results come my way and to use them as inspiration to improve in the future.

 

During high school, I faced tough times. I felt like giving up, but I found help in unexpected places. I made a good friend who I could talk to about anything. We helped each other through hard times and supported each other. Also, I had a teacher who really cared about me. She encouraged me to do well in school and helped me believe in myself. With her support, I did better in my classes and learned to keep going even when things were tough. High school also brought my first experience with love, which made me excited to go to school every day. But it wasn't all easy. I had some bad experiences that taught me how to be strong and keep moving forward. Despite the challenges, I started thinking about my future. I started small businesses to earn money and worked hard to achieve my dreams. High school taught me a lot, and now I feel ready to face whatever comes next with confidence. High school taught me many useful things that will help me in the future. I learned how to keep going even when things are tough, how to work well with others, and how to understand people's feelings. These lessons will help me as I go forward in life. I'm thankful for everything I learned in high school, and I know it will make a difference in my future.

 

In my adulthood, I grew up with a constant fear of rejection looming over me like a dark cloud. As I stepped into adulthood, this fear only seemed to intensify. It became a heavy burden that I carried with me, shaping my decisions and actions in profound ways. One of the most challenging aspects of this fear was my inability to open up to my parents about my problems. Every time I faced a challenge or felt overwhelmed, I found myself retreating further into myself. I was afraid that if I shared my struggles with my parents, they would judge me or reject me. So, I kept everything bottled up inside, plastering on a smile and pretending that everything was okay, even when it wasn't. As the years passed, this fear of rejection began to seep into every aspect of my life. I avoided taking risks or pursuing my passions because I was scared of failing or being criticized. I struggled to form meaningful connections with others because I was afraid of getting hurt or rejected. But despite my fears, deep down, I longed for understanding and support from my parents. The thought of opening up to them and being vulnerable terrified me, but I couldn't shake the desire for their love and acceptance. It wasn't until I hit a breaking point that I realized keeping everything inside was only making things worse. I began to slowly open up to my parents, tentatively sharing bits and pieces of my fears and struggles. To my surprise, they listened with open hearts and offered me the love and support I so desperately needed. With each conversation, I felt a weight lifting off my shoulders. I learned that being honest about my feelings wasn't a sign of weakness, but rather a testament to my strength and resilience. Opening up to my parents allowed me to build stronger connections with them and find the support I needed to overcome my fear of rejection. Though the journey wasn't easy, it ultimately led me to a place of greater self-acceptance and courage. I realized that by facing my fears and being vulnerable, I could forge deeper connections with others and live a more authentic and fulfilling life.

 

As I write my life story, I am realizing that I am far along in my life. It's a moment of introspection, where I reflect on the journey I've traveled so far. The memories flood back, each chapter a testament to the experiences that have shaped me into who I am today. There have been highs and lows, moments of triumph and moments of despair, but through it all, I've persevered. Looking back, I see how far I've come from the person I once was, how much I've grown and learned along the way. From the innocence of childhood to the uncertainties of adolescence and the challenges of adulthood, each phase has added layers to my story. Yet, as I turn the pages of my past, I am struck by the people who have walked alongside me. Family, friends, mentors—they've all played a part in my narrative, offering support, guidance, and love. Their influence has been profound, shaping not only my experiences but also my values and beliefs. I am reminded of the importance of connection and community, of the power of relationships to enrich our lives and deepen our understanding of ourselves. And as I write, I am also mindful of the dreams and aspirations that have fueled my journey. The goals I've set, the obstacles I've overcome, and the victories I've celebrated—they all speak to my inherent desire for growth and fulfillment. Each milestone reached is a reminder of my capacity for resilience and determination, a testament to the power of perseverance in the face of adversity. But even as I acknowledge how far I've come, I am humbled by the realization that the story is far from finished. There are still chapters waiting to be written, adventures waiting to be explored, and dreams waiting to be realized. And so, as I continue to write, I do so with a sense of anticipation, eager to see where the next chapter will take me, and grateful for the opportunity to shape my own narrative.

[starsbegantofall]

I see complaints that Barbie wasn't a great feminist movie and they're right. Barbie is instead a movie about a doll's relation to the meaning of being human. To go into the movie expecting a call to action for feminism meant you did not watch the trailers. Or the movie lol

This is actually my tweet (or... xeet), but I kinda wanted to expand on it here instead of on... xitter...

The reason being, Barbie is imperfect as a feminist movie. Its female empowerment message is brief, not very clear or logical or offering any real solutions that could work in the real world, and treating a serious subject so lightheartedly isn't effective or sensitive. What Barbie is about, from the trailer and from the very first scene, is a doll that represents to girls all of the exciting possibilities of their future.

Feminism follows behind Barbie, because Barbie is marketed to be an independent adult and not a baby to be taken care of, and Ken is an afterthought, and Barbie doesn't have kids, although she does take care of her sisters and other kids. But feminism isn't what Barbie is solely about and definitely not what the movie is solely about.

Cut below for vague spoilers

Barbie the movie is about how a doll experiences the sorrows and joys of humanity for the first time and how they deal with the question of identity, and to a lesser extent, how humans are able to rediscover themselves through the world of dolls and play pretend. Barbie represents imagination and dreams and possibilities to a girl (child), but once a girl (child) grows up and has a job and family and relationships and responsibilities, what happens to those dreams? Can dreams and reality coexist? Barbie doesn't want to change or become human, but she decides to enter reality anyway because the dream world isn't enough to contain the humanity she gained; is that what adolescence is about? Ken and CEO Will Ferrell represent the patriarchy's toxicity to uhh America Ferrera's character and her daughter, but even there, there is more to Ken and the humans- finding out what they really want to do in life, defining their relationship to others, forging a new identity, learning from past mistakes, being honest with their feelings and expressing them.

As a movie about a toy, an unwilling Pinocchio, a combination of Woody and Buzz Lightyear, that movie about androids, it's a very relatable story that speaks to girls and women much more than Pinocchio or Woody or Buzz Lightyear or creepy android children could. There are real questions and dilemmas within the humor and parody, and the conclusion is as honest and uncertain as real life is. As any other type of movie... it would require like another hour of exposition to hold up to scrutiny, and my bladder is not that strong. That's what I meant when I said the bad parts of the movie come back around as good. The silliness of the characters' actions, doll and human, the self-awareness that the writers have that this is a very nonsense plot, somehow makes the movie more relatable, at least to me. I think if they tried to overexplain or make the moral of the story extra clear and super serious, it would feel try-hard and preachy and take away from the production and acting and the essence of Barbie.

[spectruminterests]

“The Lives in Time of Katherine Kaye”

A silly story about my silly OCs! (But there is also Drama and Angst!) I’m posting this in case anyone has heard something about my soulless mad scientist and her chaos-gremlin younger self and wants to know more, or just for anyone who may happen to be interested lol.

This is kinda a draft/summary of the story so far and as such, it’s a mess, but it’s still very long so I’ve put it under a readmore! (TW for (fictional/fantastical) medical stuff, medical procedures without consent, self-harm, internalized ableism of the anti-neurodivergent variety, identity confusion, and child harm/endangerment)

Some characters and a little worldbuilding, before the story gets started:

Beastfolk/Auracai (a weird fantasy race I made up that’s kind of like elves crossed with catpeople):

Beastfolk age at about half the rate of humans and look like normal humans, but with semi-retractable claws, thin catlike tails, red eyes, and sharpened canines.

“Beastfolk” is what humans call them, referencing their “animal” traits. They call themselves Auracai (this is both singular and plural)

They’re originally from another dimension that contacts the human world (the main story’s world) only occasionally - essentially rare but not unheard of immigrants in this world. 

Sometimes people end up in the wrong world by accident, without a way to get home, as travel between worlds is more “randomly/accidentally slipping through the cracks” than intentional, reliable travel.

Beastfolk can sense souls when in direct contact with someone, humans can’t. 

Katherine Kaye (the main character/characters)

2 versions of her in the story, the emotionless mad scientist adult and the adolescent little chaos gremlin

Auracai/Beastfolk

Has Autism + ADHD + Anxiety

has a much older brother, Theodore, who’s been taking care of them since they ended up in the human world together

KT (the adolescent chaos gremlin version of Katherine)

28 (equivalent of 14)

Mischievous streak

A prankster

Really intense emotions, prone to overreacting

Senior in high school because of weird aging

Amateur singer/songwriter/musician and this is a major part of her personality

goes by KT because “it’s like ‘Katie,’ but cooler!”

Both a STEM nerd and an artist

Dreams of having an impact on the world, both of changing things for the better and of being cool and famous

Self-perception swings with her moods: often confident to the point of arrogance or overconfidence, but during a breakdown she’s full of self-loathing and shame.

Wants to travel, explore, and live a somewhat adventurous life; an ordinary office job would never satisfy her. Boring AF and a total waste of her potential.

Pigtails/twin tails

Likes to act cute to get what she wants

Dr. Kaye (the soulless mad scientist/adult version of Katherine)

Removed her own soul (heart/emotions/creativity/etc.) in an experimental process, which she tested on herself in a frustrated attempt to prove herself and to stop having such intense mood swings + be more productive and “better” without her emotional overreactions.

Ended up getting stuck in the past because she was researching interdimensional travel in an attempt to find a reliable way to get back and forth between the human world and the Auracai world (in this story time travel creates a new timeline/slightly different reality)

creepy ever-present smile (this was a form of masking and a coping mechanism, and remains a habit)

egotistical and doesn’t really realize the extent of it: she thinks that without a soul she’s become perfectly logical and efficient and immune to emotional biases. (This is revealed to be untrue when she has to reevaluate the idea that her current “emotionless” state is an improvement.)

now has really limited emotional range and is coldly logical most of the time

still has a few common emotional states though: excited/passionate/enthusiastic about her work, frustrated/annoyed/exasperated with people who are “not smart enough to see her vision” or “keep getting in the way,” amused at others’ incompetence or at messing with people, and a state of discomfort/guilt/concern about what she’s lost and what things have come to that is usually easily repressed and ignored, triggered by reminders of who she used to be

Really any emotion she feels is almost always mild enough to easily ignore.

Started promoting her soul-removal procedure as a “therapy” for anxiety, depression, various other mood disorders and emotional issues, and autism-related intense mood swings.

tends to dismiss other people as running on “mere irrational emotion”

Age: ~80s (early 40s) (She basically has a midlife crisis after getting stuck in the past lol)

she doesn’t tend to go by her first name and absolutely refuses to answer to the nickname “KT,” even from Ted.

almost completely lost her creative, playful side. No interest in anything artistic, including the music she used to love. “Fun” is not only unnecessary, but largely impossible for her, and anything involving conveying or coping with emotions? Forget it.

KT’s brother/guardian: Theodore Kaye

Perpetually exhausted, at the end of his rope

Nicknamed Ted, rarely goes by his full name Theodore

~ 50 (equivalent of 25)

Responsible because he has to be

Introverted

Low energy

Autistic (I love giving everyone the ‘tism lol)

Loyal to his sister, has a special connection with the one person who was there for him both before and after getting stuck in a different world

The story so far:

KT sees something about Dr. Kaye in the news and it mentions that she’s Beastfolk, which makes KT think that maybe she and Ted have a relative they didn’t know about. So KT goes on a bit of a wild goose chase trying to contact this person who might just be someone who happens to have the same last name. They meet, and Dr. Kaye explains the time stuff. Ted is looking for help and Dr. Kaye is like “oh yeah should probably do that, younger me will probably be a great collaborator when she’s a little older.” Ted gets the feeling that something is off about Dr. Kaye, but kinda doesn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. Clearly, this is his sister, or a version of her anyway, and although KT is a prankster, she’s a good kid. It’d totally be fine to trust her with… herself. Right? Right?

Time passes, Dr. Kaye recommends KT books, KT gets increasingly curious about Dr. Kaye’s weirder habits. She plays pranks on her, thinking her future self will laugh. She’d laugh. Dr. Kaye pretends to be amused the first time, then doesn’t react at all. She doesn’t react to a lot of things, actually, seeming to have no interest in much of anything, not caring about the things KT has liked her entire life. Something must have happened to her in the future that she refuses to discuss in order to create this weird disconnect, right? 

Meanwhile this entire time Dr. Kaye has just been… watching KT be herself, which causes her a slight, odd feeling of discomfort that she can’t seem to explain. 

Beastfolk, unlike humans, can sense someone’s soul when in direct contact with them. Dr. Kaye is careful to avoid touching people and not make it weird, a habit she formed before getting stuck in the past in order to avoid making other Beastfolk uncomfortable with her soullessness, and has become more important now that she’s stuck in the past and is attempting to hide her lack of a soul.  She also usually locks her bedroom door at night, but one night the door is accidentally left unlocked, and KT notices and tries to play a prank by putting a fake bug in Dr. Kaye’s bed while she’s asleep. She touched Dr. Kaye by accident  - she didn’t really mean to violate her boundaries, but she made the necessary contact and what she sensed was terrifying. 

KT: *screams*

Kaye: *wakes up confused* what the hell are you doing???

KT: *too scared to react*

Kaye: I forgot to lock the door, didn’t I? And now you’re in my room staring at me like a deer in headlights. Just what do you think you’re doing?!? 

KT: I, uh, it was just a prank, I didn’t mean to wake you up, you- your soul…

Kaye: *finds the fake bug* you touched me, didn’t you, as you were messing around trying to plant this ridiculous plastic bug for me to find in the morning… and I suppose I should explain things now that the cat is out of the bag, shouldn’t I? 

She explains to KT about removing her soul and KT is horrified, but even more fascinated. She wants to know more, even though she also wants to run very fast in the opposite direction, and her other self is happy to explain.

KT: *holding Dr. Kaye’s hand, still fascinated by the strange emptiness inside of her* Does… does it hurt? Not having a soul, I mean…

Dr. Kaye: It doesn’t hurt anymore… but it did, at first. I won’t lie to you, removing it was… an extremely painful process. Of course, in most cases it’s done under anesthesia… though I obviously didn’t have that option. After the procedure, there’s definitely some pain, some lingering soreness, which is rather unresponsive to painkillers, but the worst of it fades naturally fairly quickly, and in a few weeks it’s entirely gone.  There’s also a certain sense of emptiness, afterwards… it feels like something is missing deep inside of you, which I suppose is true, but it’s a feeling I didn’t find it hard to get used to. That empty feeling never truly goes away, but it’s distressing at first mostly because it’s disconcerting, rather than being painful. It’s something I can sense even now, if I’m thinking about it, but I no longer find it bothersome, and I haven’t for a long time. 

KT: That… kinda makes sense? And you said you don’t really feel emotions anymore? 

Dr. Kaye: Yes, and that’s been an immense relief. No more anxiety, no more meltdowns. 

KT: … no more happiness, though? 

Dr. Kaye: I suppose you could say that… but I would say that might simply be the cost of being free of emotional bias. I do find I sometimes experience mild emotion-like states… I’ve found it unpleasant to be interrupted while I’m working, for example… but such experiences are transient and low in intensity, and as such they are easily dismissed. 

Dr. Kaye then explains her plans to republish her discoveries in this timeline and promote her soul-removal procedure as a “therapy” for a variety of emotional problems, as she did in her own time. KT, understandably, freaks out further. 

Meanwhile Ted starts realizing that something is deeply wrong with Dr. Kaye and wants his sister back. Eventually Dr. Kaye decides her kid self needs her “treatment” a little early because she keeps “being difficult,” as well as wanting to spare her younger self the suffering of having to live with her emotional overreactions. She tries to figure out the best way to present this to KT so she’ll agree to undergo the procedure willingly, but also prepares to do it by force if necessary, convinced that she knows what’s best for them. KT asks Dr. Kaye about her regrets, which with everything makes the repressed issues come back to the forefront. As she tries to say she regrets nothing and to ask KT to follow in her footsteps, these words somehow seem like a lie. KT is horrified, but her screaming and freaking out just solidifies in Dr. Kaye’s mind that she’s overreacting. She lets KT wear out her panic until she breaks down in despairing tears and states that if KT doesn’t stop resisting, she will force her. 

“KT, listen to me. I’m you. I know what’s best for us. This is for your own good. Now, you can be good and listen to reason, or you can keep fighting and I will have to forcibly sedate you. Either way, when you wake up you won’t have to be sad and scared like this ever again. The pain you might feel now will be nothing compared to all the suffering I’m sparing you.” “W… will… I’m never going play pranks or sing or play music or draw or play pretend ever again will I… but I guess I have to grow up and give that stupid stuff up anyway… I… I have to grow up faster like you and stop that nonsense…”

Dr. Kaye realizes in that moment that she hasn’t done a single creative thing, hasn’t hummed a tune, doodled in the margins of a notebook, made up stories to fall asleep to, anything, since the day she cut out her soul. Is that worthless, or is that something she’s subconsciously missed for a very long time? She remembers that cutting out her own soul was originally an act of desperation and self-hate. She reconsiders everything.

 Meanwhile KT is escaping. She runs home to Ted and cries in his arms. Dr. Kaye realizes that she doesn’t actually want KT to end up like her, and tries to apologize for everything, but is pushed away by Ted. Not wanting to waste this chance to tell her past self what she wishes she’d known, she disappears, but begins to write a diary/memoir of all the regrets she’d never let herself “waste time” dwelling on and all the useful life things she knows from experience that were hard or impossible to find in books. She leaves it for KT one day, around the time of KT’s high school graduation, and KT reads it and tries to find her again. Despite Ted’s deep distrust of Dr. Kaye, they reconnect, originally through email because Ted understandably doesn’t want Dr. Kaye anywhere near his sister. KT really wants to apprentice under Dr. Kaye, as working and training under an experienced mentor is common practice for young people in the Auracai world, and she argues with Ted about it. 

“I thought you really wanted to go to a human university? Wasn’t that your big dream?” “Well kinda, but that was before I met Dr. Kaye! She’d be the perfect mentor because she’s doing so many things and they’re all the things I’m interested in!!!” “Are you completely forgetting that she tried to take your soul?!?? As far as I’m concerned, she’s unstable and dangerous.” “Okay yeah maybe she’s a little unstable but she wouldn’t be dangerous at all to me, she didn’t take my soul because she actually listens to me, remember?” “Katherine. Stop for a moment and listen to yourself. I can’t believe this is a conversation we even need to have.” “I’m trying to listen to myself, that’s kinda the whole point! ;) Someone keeps saying it’s a bad idea!” (KT doesn’t consider herself and Dr. Kaye to be fully one and the same the way Dr. Kaye does, but the joke was far too good for KT to pass up.) “You know what I meant, and it did not involve the potential future you that’s a soulless lunatic!” 

Dr. Kaye starts asking KT for advice on moral and emotional matters, and KT feels needed. Ted begins to relax a little, though he still really doesn’t trust her. Dr. Kaye invites KT to join her on some kind of research trip, and KT sneaks away to do so against Ted’s orders. He is livid with her… but it is a little reassuring that she’s quite unharmed and had a good time. Eventually Ted’s attitude of “I am not letting you walk to your death” softens into “I’m not sure if I can stop you, and it’s really on you if you get hurt after I tried to stop you, but please text me every night with an update on your latest song or art project or whatever or just something about your day, something that’s you, so I know you’re okay.” So KT gets her apprenticeship, and the Katherines end up forming a sort of symbiotic relationship, with Dr. Kaye acting as a mentor, guardian, and voice of reason to KT, and KT acting as Dr. Kaye’s heart and soul and conscience. Dr. Kaye is still soulless but is starting to come to terms with it now… not exactly “okay” but no longer ignoring that there was a loss and more willing to listen to others or at least to her kid self. Although she also likes to say that if she regained her former emotional range now, she’d probably have a heart attack… especially when KT is causing trouble.

[m4gp13]

That other post about my old pjo OC put me in the mood to talk about the only other pjo OC of mine that I remember, Old Man Martha. I got the idea from the mention that sometimes demigods who age out of being campers but aren't ready for the real world decide to stay in camp as basically members of staff but we literally never see a single character like this in the books.

Old Man Martha is actually a son of Hermes called, uh, something. He came to camp when he was a teenager way back when and used to be a really upbeat and peppy kid that was super excited to be a demigod because he thought it was the coolest thing ever. Then he went on a quest and was really excited but he was horrifically traumatised by the deaths of his questing partners and he ran back to camp without completing the quest. When he was training at camp, the dangers of the outside world never actually sunk in and he was just vaguely aware that being a demigod was dangerous, he was not at all prepared for the reality. After his botched quest, he developed a debilitating fear of the outside world and never left camp after returning. When he got too old to be a camper, he begged Chiron for anything he could do that would allow him to stay so Chiron gave him the pity-position of being the camp groundskeeper, which was basically a glorified janitor.

Over the years everyone cycled out except him. All the people he knew when he was a camper either died while they were outside of the camp or they left to pursue semi-normal lives (and then died). All the constant deaths of literally everyone he knew just reinforced his fear. After a while when it was just campers who met him when he was already a full-grown and ageing adult, the collective consciousness of the camp just kind of forgot that he used to be one of them and he became more of a local legend and just part of the lore of the area. No one knew anything about him and just thought he was some silly, paranoid old man so they called him Old Man Martha as a joke and it stuck.

After Luke got back from his botched quest, Old Man Martha was strongly reminded of himself and his failed quest so he started just hanging around in proximity to him a lot, not really talking to him but they sort of gained a sense of silent camaraderie. Unfortunately, another person that took an interest in Luke after his failed quest was Kronos, who kept sending him dreams and whispering in his ears. At one point Kronos sent a monster to the camp borders so Luke could practice letting a monster in but Old Man Martha saw him acting suspicious and followed him, ending up walking in on him letting the monster in. He tried to get Luke to fight the monster but he was kind of in shock and didn't know what to do so he just stood there while the monster killed Old Man Martha and then left soon after. Luke didn't tell anyone what he did that day so everyone just assumed he got killed by some monster in the woods, got smited/smote by a god, or that his old nut finally cracked and he just left.

Luke never talked about Old Man Martha after the incident and Kronos managed to twist it in his mind as the moment that pushed him over the boundary from hating the gods to being willing to kill innocents over it. Technically the only thing Martha did wrong was be in the wrong place at the wrong time and Luke was really conflicted about the role he played in causing and covering up his death. Kronos convinced him that some deaths were necessary and innocent people had to die in order for their goals to be met, which is why this nineteen year old kid is so chill about committing Baby's First Attempted Murder on Percy at the end of TLT

Since Luke was already getting too old to be a camper in TLT, I just like the idea of him having a foil or parallel character who was basically just him if he chose to stay in camp and let his fear overpower his anger. The more Kronos whispered in his head, the more he probably saw Old Man Martha as what he could become if he didn't do anything to change his situation or fight back against it, which might have led to an underlying sense of resentment for Old Man Martha or even a sense of camaraderie.

[meetaethere]

"Childhood Dreams, Adult Realities: A Journey of Growth and Discovery"

As I sit down to write my life story from childhood to adulthood, I am overcome with a rush of memories, emotions, and reflections. My journey from childhood to adulthood has been a tapestry woven with threads of joy, sorrow, love, and growth. Each chapter has shaped the person I am today.

Childhood was a time of innocence and wonder, filled with endless possibilities and boundless imagination. I grew up in a small town. My earliest memories are of lazy summer days going to grandma's house every weekend, spending time playing with my friends,and catching fireflies as the sun dipped below.From the earliest days of my childhood, grandma's house was my sanctuary. Every weekend, without fail, I'd eagerly go to her house, my heart brimming with anticipation. As soon as I crossed the threshold, I was enveloped in the comforting embrace of her love and warmth. Grandma's house is not just a place; it was a haven where I felt safe.With Grandma by my side, every day was a memorable adventure waiting to unfold. From making champorado,chika and exploring the wonders of her backyard garden, we embarked on countless escapades filled with laughter and imagination. He wanted me to become a teacher someday.As I grew older, I came to cherish not only the moments of fun but also the invaluable lessons of love and wisdom that Grandma imparted to me. Through her gentle guidance and unwavering support, in Grandma's eyes, I was always enough, just as I was. She always said congratulations for my small achievements until now, comforted my tears, brought me home from work, and encouraged my dreams with unwavering faith, support, and unconditional love. No matter the challenges or uncertainties that life presents, I am also blessed with my parents because, as far as I can remember, until now, my birthdays were like stepping into a wonderland. Even if it was a simple celebration, my parents made sure that each one was special, with tons of presents and decorations. When I was young too, I remember that going to the dentist scared me silly. The whirring tools and masked faces made me tremble. So, I avoided the dentist like the plague, and because I was afraid, I ignored any toothaches or problems. I hoped they would just go away on their own. But as I got older, my teeth started to look less nice.Eventually, the pain got so bad that I had to go to the dentist. With a pounding heart, I finally faced my fear and sat in the dreaded chair.The dentist was kind and gentle, even though my teeth weren't in great shape. They helped me fix the problems and showed me how to take better care of my teeth, but the doctor said I needed to have braces to make my teeth straight and nice, but they were too expensive and we couldn't afford them, so I didn't have braces.And now I am not confident and shy speaking in front of many people because of my teeth. Every time I stood before a crowd, my heart raced and my palms sweated. But it wasn't just the fear of public speaking that held me back; it was the fear of being judged because of my teeth.As I entered adolescence, the landscape of my life began to shift in unexpected ways. I grappled with the tumultuous journey of self-discovery,belonging, and purpose. High school was a time of both exhilaration and heartache, as I forged friendships and relationships and weathered the storms of academic pressure and social expectations.

Amidst the chaos of adolescence, there were moments of profound clarity and growth.

As I graduated from high school and ventured into the realm of adulthood, I was met with a newfound sense of freedom and responsibility.

Senior high offered a fresh start, a chance to reinvent myself and pursue my goals to achieve them.Entering senior high school was both exciting and nerve-wracking. As I stepped through the doors on the first day, I was filled with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. The halls seemed larger, the expectations higher, and the challenges greater than ever before.

But alongside the excitement of newfound independence, there were moments of uncertainty and self-doubt.As a senior high school student, speaking in front of others was a daunting challenge. The mere thought of standing before a crowd sent shivers down my spine, and my voice often faltered in the face of fear. But deep down, I knew I wanted to change.Despite my fear, I made a conscious decision to confront my insecurities and work on improving my self-confidence when speaking in front of class and many people for my own good.But amidst my shyness, I always remembered something my grandma used to say: that he wanted me to become a teacher someday. Her words stayed with me, a gentle reminder of her belief in me, even when I didn't believe in myself.I realized that if I wanted to fulfill my grandma's wish, I would have to overcome my fear of speaking in front of others. So, little by little, I started to push myself out of my comfort zone, improving my self-confidence when speaking in front of many people because I remember one person telling me that I should not be shy when speaking in front of many people because judgements are always around us. All we have to do is believe in ourselves that we can do it and ignore what people say around us as long as we do not hurt other people. Thats why, until now, step by step, I have been helping myself and encouraging myself to be strong and improve my self-confidence for my own good and those who believe that I can achieve my dream of becoming a teacher someday, and I believe that if anyone can do it, I can do it.

And my grandma's outspoken mentors as my role models who inspired me to dream big and pursue my goals with unwavering determination.

Through it all, I have learned that life is a journey of constant evolution, self-discovery, and self-acceptance.Each chapter of my life has brought with it its own set of challenges and triumphs, shaping me into the person I am today. And as I reflect on the path that has led me here, I am filled with gratitude for the lessons learned, the friendships forged, and the experiences that have shaped my journey from childhood to adulthood. As I embark on this narrative journey, I hope to capture the essence of my experiences and the lessons they have taught me.