#and then you can forget all about it. all that matters are those stupid standardized tests lollllllllll

[mymarifae]

i think that you would be an amazing teacher and i wish i could be in your class

aw thank you so much!! i'm glad you think so.. hopefully i can make at least one student's high school career a little easier, and hopefully i can remind them why they should never stop loving learning, no matter how hard the school system tries to beat it out of them :')

[jamsandsuch]

advice for first year uni students from a uni senior

the roommate(s) will always be more important than the room

+ for roommates, SET. CLEANING. EXPECTATIONS. EARLY. don't wait until you're uncomfortable with how much mess is in the kitchen for you to start thinking if you should bring it up or not. set standards and make them clear.

put your key on a lanyard and hang it from your doorknob when you’re at home so you don’t forget it on the way out

if your dorm has a shared laundry room, set your timer for when your laundry finishes ~5 mins early to give you time to walk from your room to the laundry - especially during weekends/evenings/finals people wont have the patience to wait for you - even if your load just finished

If you have noodle arms like me, buy yourself one of those collapsible grocery carts you drag behind you like a luggage - best purchase i've ever made

Or if you're lazy, order online - but order on a free day because even if you schedule a time they're always gonna come stupid early and you dont want any frozen items to get spoiled or have your groceries stolen

DONT BUY ANY TEXTBOOKS/MATERIALS UNTIL THE FIRST WEEK/CLASSES ARE OVER. sometimes you’ll have early access to the booklist or syllabus and go ahead and start buying textbooks, but increasingly often you’ll buy the materials and show up to class just to find your prof has uploaded scanned copies of everything. *save your money*, wait!

BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS - look at your class schedule and walk around campus to find each classroom. you will probably get lost on day 1 and so will many other students so this will save you a lot of walking around bumping into other lost first years

trust me after a few weeks you won’t be waking up for that 8am class. i know you did it 5 days a week in high school, but there’s a reason uni students are allergic to morning classes. know your natural energy/attention levels and take advantage of the freedom to build your schedule around your energy fluctuations

compress/stack your class schedule as much as possible. if you absolutely do need breaks, make them at least 1.5-2 hours long or you probably wont get anything productive done and minimize these long breaks as much as you can so you can just get your day over with sooner

work smarter, not harder - when school starts note each course’s assessment type by quizzes/finals/essays. if i ever have a course thats just essays, i only do lecture notes + write my own annotations about readings rather than taking notes on them which saves time i can dedicate to textbook notetaking for courses with frequent quizzes + finals

if your school has benefits/discounts/insurance - know what it is and USE IT.

most clubs wont be like high school where there are regular meetings you attend. unless youre in the exec team the membership fee you pay/when you sign up for membership it’s just for access to their events when they happen. if you want to be involved in a club in a way thats as involved as high school, look at their social media pages for hiring.

+ as someone who has had to hire before - if you’re nervous, literally just do it. i was in an exec position for our student union services and once only had like 3 applicants to pick from

if you want to be noticed by a professor, sit in the front row. and always answer/ask questions - it doesn’t matter if you said anything of substance or not, they will remember that you contributed

that and also always make the point to say hello and goodbye! eventually (in my experience) if you come early enough and are just waiting for class to start, a conversation will happen - make these regular enough and you could have an important connection!

disclaimer: of course, not all of this might be something that resonates with you/possible for your course or school, so in the words of my cousin - take what resonates

+ anyone else is free to add on!!

[calxprince]

❀ LOVE, OR THE LACK THEREOF ( 1 )

. . . a kabru x gender neutral reader story

# Chapter 1 ; 5 Years is Barely Enough Time for Someone to Move On, Right?

# genre : multiple parts. breakup angst. reader can't move on for the life of them.

# warnings : hurt no comfort in the first chapter

# spoiler warnings : none

# notes : purely an intro to the story. reader yammering about their life after the breakup. author is tired of the lack of kabru fanfiction and is tired of depending on cai

click here for the masterlist

1080 words

. . . in which relationships are prohibited within the party.

What a stupid rule. Or at least, you used to think it was. Until you fell in love, then fell out of it after.

Okay, you didn't actually fall out of it. But you did end up breaking up.

But hey, 5 years isn't that long right? It's not too late to start moving on?

Fuck. You really wished you followed that rule. All you can do now is regret all of your actions 5 years ago, when you were dating him.

RELATIONSHIPS WITHIN PARTIES WERE STRICTLY PROHIBITED.

You only started to understand why it was a rule, a golden standard across all parties.

It is fairly understandable that to have good chemistry with your party, you need to have close bonds with each of your members. You need to establish a strong relationship with your peers, to use all of your different abilities in perfect harmony.

However, indulging yourself in the greed of breaking through the barrier or being— just friends is a high risk. It could either make or break your party's chemistry. With intertwined heartstrings, that push and pull is always guaranteed to break those ties.

You groan at your stupidity, as you struggle to keep yourself afloat as a solo adventurer. Gold became scarce as you could barely afford your necessities, while the dungeon became harder and harder to explore— making treasures difficult to score. Lower levels were always a no-go, as you risk dying and being victim to a resurrection scam— draining you of all of your (miniscule) savings.

You used to be a party leader, determined to lead your beloved team to victory. However, strangers turn into friends— friends into close friends, and suddenly... Lovers. Life back then was simple, laughing at the stupidity of the rule ' no dating within the party! '. I mean, what's so wrong about being happy?

Your power, and his expertise with the blade— back to back, you two were unstoppable.

But could it have lasted forever? You ask yourself over and over— to the point of days becoming weeks, becoming months.

It's all become a blur.

Wake up. Enter the Dungeon. Explore the Dungeon. Go Home. Sleep. Repeat.

It's been 5 years since you broke up with Kabru. Actually— 5 years since you've seen his face. However, it doesn't change a thing. You have had his face memorized in the back of your mind since the day you both met; each angle and curvature of his jaw, the exact hue and saturation of his eyes, each curl in the sea of his dark hair.

You could never forget the way his eyes would soften as he looked at you, his lips curling into a gentle smile. He made you feel warm, like— a bowl of hot soup that your mom made you on a rainy day kind of warm. The way he never fails to be impressed by you, no matter how many times he'd seen your magic.

Sometimes, he'd try to get a little scratch during battle just so he could get healed by you again.

So what if the other members were fatally bleeding and were on the verge of death? He has a 'potentially life-threatening paper cut' and is in need of assistance.

Does it hurt more to remember, than to forget?

... You're not sure.

Remembering only brings fear—the fear of being forever perceived as the person you used to be, and will never be remembered as the person you are now. Change is inevitable, but you never really know if it it changes for the better or the worse.

You've been avoiding ever exploring more than half of the village ever since that day.

He's made his imprint in your mind, where that one bakeshop was not just any normal bakeshop— it was the one he'd eagerly line up at each morning, just so he could bring you your favorite treat.

God, you can't even stand the smell of it in the air anymore.

You couldn't get yourself to go to that one tavern, since it wasn't just any normal tavern anymore— it was his favorite tavern. The one tavern that he introduced you to, where they sold the best quality of your favorite drink.

He had hunted down every saloon and tavern in the village, just to pin one down because he knew you would love it.

And he loved it because you loved it.

It was also the place where you got absolutely wasted. Where you accidentally gave him the sloppiest, most passionate liquor-flavored kiss ever.

Where you couldn't stop the drunken slur of words that poured out of your mouth like a waterfall of alcohol, accidentally telling him you loved him.

It's a never-ending spiral of having to give up your favorite things, mostly because the reason why they were your favorite— was because of him. Because he had taken the time to get to know you, and noted down every single thing about you in every nook and cranny of his mind— your favorite scent, the shampoo you use, the distinct hop in your step.

That man knew you inside and out as if he had just completely dissected you in his mind. His beautiful mind. The mind that knew the second your mood shifted, the one that always takes note of your subtle hints.

And without him, everything seemed tasteless. Like your favorite freshly baked bread in the morning— it suddenly felt like eating clay that you had just dug up from the side of a creek. Like a bland porridge that was bordering a lukewarm temperature.

You sit there, pondering what could've been.

What would life be like if he never left?

Would he still be lying beneath your covers, his face buried in the crook of your neck while whispering promises?

Would he be sitting on your couch, folding your shared laundry— while you cook yourselves a shared dinner?

Would he be begging you to use your magic on him again? Would you be there healing his wounds after a long day, while he begs for another kiss?

Would he be there to kiss your lips again— holding you like a glass rose that could shatter beneath his fingertips?

...

You still love him.

You can't deny it.

However, 5 years is enough for him to hire a new mage.

5 years would've been enough for him to move on to bigger things— bigger ambitions.

bigger dreams than the ones he had with you.

You needed longer than 5 years. Maybe one day you'd be able to meet him eye to eye, without the dread and the fear.

But today was not that day.

But today was the day god decided to test you. (as if he hasn't put you through enough, dragging you from hell and back.)

He decided to test your patience, your resilience, and all of the above.

I mean, who else wouldn't freak out after seeing your ex and your ex-party members lying dead on the ground?

... Especially when they're all weirdly lined up on the concrete floor of the dungeon.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🐺 My Best Friend’s Father

My Best Friend’s Father: Isla has been friends with Allison Argent since she moved to Beacon Hills, and it was given that she would eventually become friends with Christopher Argent. After begging Chris for some hunting tricks to protect herself from the supernatural, Isla finds herself breaking an unspoken rule between best friends. Do not fall in love with their father.

Warnings: Language, Explicit Material  (Unprotected Sex is a No No).

To Note: Christopher Argent x NAMED!Female!Reader, Legal Age-Gap, Allison is NOT Dead, Reader is Depicted to Have Hair Long Enough to Pull Up.

Word Count: ~7.6k

There is an unspoken rule about best friends. Don’t ever catch feelings for their father’s, no matter how attractive they are, or how nice they can be. It was a recipe for disaster and certain death for said friendship, not to mention the glaring age gap and societal standards. It was wrong, and you knew that.

But can you control who you love?

You had met Allison when you had started a tutoring job in chemistry at the local high school, you were already friends with Lydia, so becoming friends with her was bound to happen one way or another. You had been with her through thick and thin, from her mother dying, her breakup with Scott, and her near death experience at the hands of the Oni.

Out of everyone in Beacon Hills, you would say that you were closest to Allison, but that also came with a draw back. The longer you were friends with Allison, the more you got to know her father, and the more he got to know you.

Friends. You would say that’s how you started out, you had practically begged him to teach you some hunting tricks to learn how to protect yourself. He was agreeable given your proximity to Scott and the fact that you spent a lot of time with him and Stiles. They were bound to drag you into something.

Training was probably the worst thing you could have asked from him. Close proximity, hands on your body to show you correct form, and rolling around a mat while trying to learn how to throw an actual punch had all made the subtle feelings glaringly obvious. Especially when you ended up just staring at each other for a solid minute rather than doing the work you intended to do.

Your last training session had you so close you thought he was going to kiss you while you straddled him after successfully pinning him to the ground. Well, he hadn’t and you had hopped, skipped, and leaped out of there a soon as you were done to take a long, cold shower.

Since then you had been ducking out on your training sessions, saying you were busy with your online classes, or telling him you were sick. You had pulled every trick in the book you could think of, and eventually Allison had come sniffing, asking why you hadn’t been by in nearly three weeks.

Thank god she wasn’t a wolf because she would have instantly smelled your lie.

You had edged around it, since you both had a pack meeting to attend and if you spent the time talking to her about it, you’d be late. So with a promise to eventually talk about it, you headed for the meeting where you spent the entire time under the gaze of one Chris Argent.

Fidgeting for what had to be the thirtieth time in the last hour, you tried to get yourself into a comfortable sitting position. You couldn’t, not with those blue eyes practically staring holes in your head. The worst of it? You were planning on going on a date afterwards so you were dressed up nicely for once.

This was probably the first time he had ever seen you in something other than jeans, leggings, or sweatpants, and he probably knew exactly what you were dressed up for. Now you may be hopelessly in love with Chris Argent, but that didn’t mean you were trying your best not to. The whole reason why you were going on this stupid date was to try and forget about him, not because you actually liked the guy you were going with.

You were hoping he was charming, or cute enough to distract you, you didn’t even care of it was only for one night. That’s why you had gone all out on yourself for once. Make up, clothes, heels, hair, you had done it all in hopes to entice your date.

After pulling out a black boat neck long sleeved shirt, you had paired it with a leopard print asymmetrical ruffled skirt that had a slit that went up to your left thigh, flashing a bit of enticing skin. Pairing that combo off with a pair of black, chunky ankle strap heels, and a cute little black handbag, well, you were set. You had even gone the extra step to curl your hair before pulling it up into an updo held by a clip.

It went to show just how desperate you were to find someone else to supplement the love you longed to have. Find someone else, forget about Chris. That was your new mantra.

“So that’s it for the patrols,” Scott finished talking. “If anyone wants to be added or removed text me, other than that, we’re done.”

“About time,” Your muttered underneath your breath before shooting to you heel covered feet and striding towards the door.

“You’re in a hurry tonight,” Derek muttered as you strode passed him. You shot him a look, daring him to say more with your eyes.

“I’m busy,” You snapped out.

“Yeah, not until eight so you and I can have a nice conversation.” Allison spoke up, practically skipping up to your side and taking your arm. Allison pulled you out of the loft and then to a quiet place where you wouldn’t be disturbed. “Well you look hot tonight… got a date?”

“Actually yes, I do.” You returned, crossing your arms over your modest cleavage. “So if I could please leave so I’m not late…”

“You’ve got thirty three minutes,” Allison huffed at you, crossing her own arms and owning up to the fact that she had probably dug up information on you. “So what’s up with you and my dad, Isla? You haven’t been over in three weeks, dad’s been moping and you look like your nonexistent boyfriend broke up with you.”

“Chris does not mope, Allison.” You returned, your eyebrows furrowing at the picture of one Christopher Argent moping. “And like I said, I’ve been busy, classes—“

“Ended four weeks ago, I know when my best friend is avoiding someone. What happened?” Allison said, cutting you off. “You two get into a fight or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, its— Allison it’s probably best if I start learning hunting from someone else. Someone I won’t—“

“Fall in love with?” She offered, cutting you off again. Your eyes went huge and darted around, looking to see if anyone was near and had heard her.

“Allison!” You hissed at her. “You can’t say things like that, especially with those sensitive ears around.”

“It doesn’t make my words any less true, I know you love my dad.” Allison responded with a shrug. “It was weird to think about at first, but now not so much.”

“Alli, he probably doesn’t even like me like that, why would he?” You answered in frustration. “He’s your father for Christ’s sake.”

“So? It’s kind of obvious that he likes you back, and age aside, you two make each other happy, which my dad really needs right now.”

“Allison!” You screeched, your face flushing with heat. “God! Your his daughter and I’m your best friend! That’s just— no! Why do you think I’ve stayed away for the last three weeks!”

“Well, I’m not bothered by it as long as I don’t have to call you mom,” She said with a shrug.”You really should give him a chance, I love both of you and I want you two to be happy.”

“Allison,” Your sighed, resisting the urge to rub your face and smear your make up. “Now really isn’t the time, I’m supposed to be going on a date with another man.”

You started walking for the exit, Allison trailing behind you. Just as you neared the exit, Scott and Stiles appeared with Malia, Chris following shortly behind.

“Oh, that reminds me, can I borrow your phone Isla?” Allison asked as you tried to ignore Chris’s perpetual stare. Yep, he definitely knew something was up with you, and you had a feeling he had caught on to your avoidance.

You plucked your phone from your purse, not questioning why Allison would need yours when she had hers, and handed it over. While Allison did whatever she was going to do on your phone, Scott turned his eyes to you.

“Hey Isla, do you want me to put you down for next Wednesday night?” Scott asked, his eyes peering into yours. Blinking yourself from Chris’s gaze, you looked at Scott before nodding.

“Sure, yeah, Wednesday’s are best for me. It’ll be better than staying home and twiddling my thumbs.” You answered Scott, taking your phone back from Allison. “But I think I have a prior obligation on Friday so I’m going to have to bail on that one.”

“No problem, someone will fill in,” Scott answered before looking at his girlfriend. “Ready to go?”

You didn’t hear Allison’s answer because your phone buzzed, looking down at your purse, you pulled my phone out and checked the screen.

I’m sorry to hear about that, hopefully we’ll be able to schedule some other time. Hope you feel better.

You blinked at the screen, confused by the words, but before you could open the text and figure out what was going on, you heard the sound of Stiles’s Jeep rumbling to life and taking off.

“What!” You exclaimed before hurrying forwards. “Don’t you dare! Stiles!”

You ran out into the parking lot just in time to see the Jeep leave the parking lot, stranding you at the loft. Letting out a sigh, your arms dropped down as you tried to figure out what the hell you were going to do now.

“Need a ride?” You jumped in place at hearing Chris’s voice so close to you. Putting your hand to your racing heart, you reluctantly turned to look up at him.

“I—“ You started before chewing on your red lip. “Well yes, Stiles was supposed to be my ride, but clearly I’ve been ditched. I have— well I mean… I’m supposed to be meeting someone at the nightclub… and Stiles said he’d take me.”

“Since when do you go clubbing?” Chris asked, his eyebrows raised skeptically, before his blue eyes washed down your body for what had to be the thousandth time this night.

“I don’t,” You responded meekly. “But I was invited and thought I’d live a little for once…”

“Come on, I’ll take you,” Chris said, reaching up and placing a hand on your back, steering you towards his SUV. “Last thing I need is for you to be wandering around town dressed like this…”

You didn’t respond to that comment but reluctantly allowed your body to be lead over to his car. You could feel the heat from his hand soak through the thin fabric of your shirt and couldn’t help but shiver. It was just cold enough that his body heat felt wonderful, and you had to resist the urge to stop walking and lean back into his touch.

Reaching his SUV, Chris was gentlemanly enough to open your door for you and shut it when you had climbed onto the seat. Sitting stiffly in the passengers seat, you waited as Chris walked around and got into the drivers seat, turning the car on.

You spent the first five minutes of the drive in uncomfortable silence.

“You look nice,” Chris spoke up, breaking the thunderous silence. Your fingers curled around your handbag.

“Thanks,” You whispered out, your cheeks flushing once more.

“This wouldn’t happen to be a date, would it? I didn’t know you were seeing someone.” He asked as he came to a stop at a red light and turned to look at you. You could only look in his eyes for a few seconds before feeling guilty and looking away.

“I’m not dating anyone… and yes… it is,” You whispered before your phone once again buzzed. You pulled your phone out and looked at the new message.

Check Ur Messages

“What the— Allison?” You questioned, unlocking you phone and going into your messages. While you were checking your messages, Chris pulled into the parking lot of the nightclub and found a spot. A frown appeared on your face as you noticed a bunch of texts on the chat between you and your date you didn’t remember sending, and opening it up, your mouth dropped open.

“Isla?” Chris asked, leaning forwards. “Everything okay?”

The hand holding your phone dropped into your lap.

“Well, I had a date,” You muttered. “Allison texted him back pretending to be me and claimed that I was sick with food poisoning and had to cancel.”

Letting out a drawn out sigh, you leaned back against the seat.

“I went to all this effort to look nice for one, and she canceled it. Why the hell would she do that?”

“It’s not a complete waste… and you always look nice, Isla, no matter what you wear.” Chris mused quietly, letting his hand rest on the steering wheel. “Isla, why have you been canceling our sessions? I thought everything was going great?”

Going great as in you now wanted to jump him? Yeah… Not so much.

“Well my classes—“

“Ended four weeks ago,” Chris spoke up, giving a you soft look with a raised eyebrow. “Allison has been keeping tabs on you for me. You literally have been doing nothing but avoiding me for the last three weeks. I may be old, but I’m not a fool.”

“You’re not that old,” You responded quietly, your cheeks a hot. “And everything is fine, I just think that I should maybe ask Derek or Peter to train me, you know, get a broader experience…”

“Really?” He asked, skepticism in his voice. “Those two? You do realize you are human, Derek might be a better choice but Peter spends half his time staring at your chest or crotch.”

“He does not!” You exclaimed, your blush deepening at his words.

“I’m a guy, Isla,” He said, waving the hand resting on the steering wheel.  “I know when he’s doing it.”

“Well, so what?” You huffed, your voice rising. “If it gets the job done then so be it! It’s not like he’s the only one looking!”

“I still don’t understand why you’d rather go to those two!” He argued back. “They’ll snap you like a twig Isla!”

“Again so what!” You fired back, now getting worked up. “Maybe I’ll actually learn a thing or two about fighting a werewolf!”

“You’d really rather learn from them!?”

“I’m not supposed to fall in love with my trainer!” You snapped, not thinking about your words before you spat them out. As soon as you realized what you had said, you felt your heart dropped and the car went silent. Your voice dropped to a whisper as you covered your mouth with one hand. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“But you did,” You flinched slightly at his quiet words and your hand slowly reached for the door handle. The door was locked. “And you are not running away before we talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” You said in a hush. “I’m just an idiot who fell in love with someone I shouldn’t have.”

“You’re not an idiot, Isla,” Chris spoke up, his hand reaching over and gently taking yours. “You are beautiful, loyal, comforting, and I have found my life revolving around when you come over.”

“But it’s— Allison’s my best friend, and—“ You dropped your head into your remaining hand as he squeezed the one in his grasp. “What would people think?”

“You think I care what people think?”

“You should, it’s your reputation.” You shot back, giving him a look. You stared at each other for a full minute, and you wondered if your words had finally sunk into his brain. Letting out a breath through your nose, you slipped your hand from his and pressed down on the seatbelt release, letting the straps slide free from you body. “Thanks for the ride, but since I dressed up this nice, I might as well try to put it to good use.”

Just as you fingers went to unlock the door so you could sulk out of the car and pretend that this never happened, you heard Chris’s own seatbelt sliding free. Momentarily stopping your exit, you turned back to him with a raised eyebrow, wondering what he was doing this time.

Within seconds Chris had an arm around your waist and was hauling you across the leather console. With a small squeal of surprise, your hands shot forwards and your fingers sunk into his shirt as you clumsily tottered around, your knees hitting the edges of the drivers seat as you straddled his lap.

Before  your brain even had a chance to catch up with the fact that you were no longer sitting in the passengers seat, Chris’s lips were on yours. He was going for broke and not using any ounce of restraint or control.

His scruffy face scraped across your cheeks, gently scratching your skin as he pressed his mouth against yours in an open, far from chaste, kiss. His lips tugged at yours until you relented to his unspoken wishes and opened yours with a soft groan.

As you were pulled into a deeper kiss, you slipped your fingers up his soft shirt to grip his shoulders, needing a way to anchor yourself before you floated away. Chris’s own hands trailed across your body, his left sliding around your back to hold you against his chest while his right slid up the slit in your skirt to rest against your upper thigh.

Months of wondering what it would feel like to kiss him, have his lips pressing against yours, have his hands on your body because he wanted them to, rather than because he was trainingy you. It was all over. 

It was better than you could have dreamed of, not just his kisses, making your mind race before tripping and tumbling into a tangled mess. His fingers gently caressing your skin, making goosebumps appear on your skin and electricity run beneath your skin. All you could think about right now was how much you didn’t want him to let you go.

It was only when your lungs were burning that you separated, your face was flushed and your breathing heavier than you would have liked as Chris buried his face into your shoulder, pressing his lips against your bare skin. Your own chin rested on his shoulder as you tried to come up with a logical excuse for that, or a reason why it should be a one and done type of thing.

You came up with nothing, your mind and body only wanted more now that you had a taste.

Straddling his lap with your legs and body squished against his was the most distracting thing you had ever experienced, but at the same time, you didn’t want to move. With a tentative breath, you dropped your chin, resting your forehead on his shoulder while wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You are going to be the death of me, Christopher Argent.” You whispered, gently running your fingers across his neck.

“Hopefully not anytime soon, I quite like your company.” Chris responded, brushing his fingers up your back. “And I’d really like to start up your training again. You have three weeks to make up for.”

You couldn’t help the groan of misery at the mention of making up for those three weeks of missing training. Just because he had finally gotten you to admit why you were avoiding him, didn’t mean he was going to start going easy on you, if anything, he might start pushing you harder. Chris chuckled at your groan before pulling back so he was looking at your face.

“I’ll whip you back into shape in no time.” He told you with a cheeky smile.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You moaned out, your head dropping back. You received more chuckles before he pressed another kiss at the edge of your mouth.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to my apartment, since you tried so hard to dress up, I might as well be the one to enjoy it. Plus, we need to have an actual conversation about this.” You waited for him to let go so you could go climbing back into the passengers seat. He didn’t. Clearing your throat, you gave him a teasing smile.

“Chris, you actually need to let me go, because I don’t think you driving with me straddling you would be a good idea.” He let out a huff before releasing you and helping you crawl back into the passengers seat. You put your seatbelt back on as he started the SUV up again. While Chris pulled out of the nightclub parking lot, you started drumming your fingers on your thighs.

Everything was out in the open now, and it felt awkward to you. After fidgeting for what had to be the tenth time in the span of three minutes Chris reached over and grabbed onto your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Your eyes darted to your joined hands resting on your thigh, he knew you all too well.

Curling your fingers around his in response, you relaxed slightly and looked out the window at the passing lights. You knew each other, you were both adults, you could handle this properly.

Standing in the kitchen of Chris’s apartment, you tried not to drum your fingers on the countertop as Chris pulled out two glasses and then a bottle of scotch.

“You planning on getting me smashed?” You questioned as he poured two glasses and then slid one your way. A humor filled smirk flashed across his face.

“You look so wound up that you could be played like a violin, Isla.” Huffing at him, you snatched up the glass and raised it to your lips. You took a careful sip, keeping your face straight as the liquor burned down your throat.

“Can you blame me?” Chris leaned back against the cabinets behind him and studied you. “Chris, you are respected man, a highly respected man at that, there is no way I could ever allow my personal feelings be the cause of your reputation being ruined.” 

“Have you ever considered asking my opinion in the matter?” He returned, taking a sip from his glass. No, you had not taken into consideration how he felt because you were convinced that you getting involved him would be life destroying for him.

“No, but—“

“Relationships aren’t one sided, Isla/N, I have a say in it too, and right now, what’s hurting me is you avoiding me.” Your eyes widened and your mouth opened to respond. But any response you could have made was caught in your throat and you just slumped were you stood, wordless. That… hurt to know.

He was right naturally, he pretty much always was. Pursing your lips, you looked down at the glass in your hands.

“We have seventeen years between us, Chris,” You finally whispered out. “I don’t want you dealing with whispers and gossip you don’t deserve.”

The glass in Chris’s hand paused halfway to his mouth as his blue eyes stared at you, he slowly lowered his glass back down to the kitchen counter top. Transfixed with every little moment of his body, you watched as he straightened up and started prowling towards you.

You couldn’t help but feel like a rabbit being hunted down by a fox, and your feet agreed with that statement. Stepping backwards, you backpedaled as Chris advanced until your butt hit his countertop and your hands snapped to steady yourself. Blindly setting your glass down on the counter top, you stared up into Chris’s eyes as he placed his hands next to you, caging you in.

“Work with me, Isla, please,” Chris asked softly, somehow managing to look pleading despite being having an ‘alpha male’ air to him. Your lips parted as you stumbled to respond, your face heating up while a light blush dusted your cheeks and the bridge of your nose.

“You don’t play fair,” You finally managed to whisper out, your voice just as weak as your knees were feeling at the moment. A relenting sigh passed through your lips before you responded. “But if this is what you really—“

He was on you before you could complete your sentence, his mouth instantly claiming yours as he moved a hand to the center of your back and pulled your body against his. Gasping into his mouth, your eyelids flickered closed when his tongue traced your lower lip, begging for entrance. Whimpering slightly when Chris further nipped at your lip, you parted your lips just enough for him to gain entrance.

Chris dove in, stealing the breath your lungs while hungrily tasting every inch of this kiss he could get. He was insatiable taking everything you had to give and then more, and when his tongue started teasing yours, a flare of fire burned up from the core of you body. Letting out a moan, your right hand jerked up to grab a hold of his bicep, your nails digging as your brain literally started to short circuit.

All you could think about was the hand splayed on your back, so big and strong, the smell of musk invading your senses, how your skin prickled from the cold room. You had never wanted this man more than you did right now and it was a little scary to think that you could actually have him.

Despite Chris kissing the daylights out of you and dominating your mouth like no other man or boy had before, you still managed to register his other hand slipping beneath your skirt to caress your outer thigh. Groaning at the light touch, your nails dug into his muscles when he started to slide his fingers up.

Between his mouth and his fingers lightly drawing up your leg, getting higher and higher, you didn’t know what to do or what to think. You felt like you were caught between feeling dazed and overwhelmed, and wanting more. His fingers grazed the thin strap of the thong you had bravely pulled on tonight, slipping beneath the thin strap and running along your skin.

Whimpering from his touch, your eyes nearly rolled back when his deft fingers slipped inwards to brush through your folds. That sent a blast of fire through your belly and had your hips jerking while your head dropped back, your lips detaching as a low moan poured out of your mouth. Chris let out a pleased chuckle before bending down to press open mouthed kisses along the delicate skin just underneath your jaw.

Your chest heaved against his, a clear indication at how worked up he could get you with a couple of kisses and light touches. Chris continued to stroke his fingers while you dug your fingernails into his arm even harder and tried not to wiggle around. Every pass he made against your clit had your trembles increasing and your breath more ragged.

It was evident how undone you were becoming between your trembles, your panting, and your white knuckle grip on both his arm and the counter top. Your neck was quickly becoming a center of pleasure with just a kiss of burn from Chris’s stubble.

“Chris please,” You breathed out and rising on your toes. Your body alight with burning desire and a need for more consuming your every thought.

“Do you need me like I need you?” Chris questioned, brushing his lips up the column of your neck until you were once again gazing at each other in the eyes. “Do you want this as much as I do?”

Your puffy lips were wobbly as you stuttered to get words out, he really did mean every word he said. Well he had his fingers shoved into your thong and practically in your body, you’d think that would be more than enough evidence for your brain to figure out that he was deadly serious.

“Yes,” You whimpered, fully giving into your desires for once. Chris let out a sigh of relief before withdrawing his hand from your thong. Your mouth practically dropped open, he makes you finally say yes and he pulls away!?

Smirking at your apparent shock, Chris raised his fingers and stuck them into his mouth, licking the wetness. Your cheeks burned with heat as your eyes went wide, his smirk remained on his lips well after he finished cleaning his fingers. The hand pressing into your back, slipped down, over your ass to just underneath your asscheeks where he picked you up against his chest.

Lurching forwards slightly, you let the counter top go to clutch at his shoulder while he wrapped his other arm around your back. Holding your body against his, Chris started walking through the apartment. Releasing his muscled arm, you lifted your hand to run your fingers down his scruffy face.

“I’m sorry,” You told him quietly as you brushed your fingers along his jaw. His blue eyes met yours and a forgiving smile stretched across his sinful lips.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Isla/N, you were trying to protect me, I can’t be mad at you for that.” Chris answered with a light chuckle.

“Well that’s good because you’ve got me so wet and horny right now I might scream if you don’t do something about it.” His smile turned into a smirk as he entered his bedroom.

“Believe me, Isla, I’ll have you screaming but not because I’ve left you needy.” Chris replied, brushing his nose against yours before abruptly letting you go. Letting out a gasp as you dropped back, your arms flailed for a second or two before you landed on the bed. Staring up into Chris’s face, your eyes remained connected while his hands gently took hold of your left leg and his fingers started undoing the straps of your black chunky wedges.

Holding your ankle, he pulled the heel free from your foot, his fingers trailing over the bottom of your foot making it jerk a little in his grasp. Breathing steadily through your parted lips, you watched as he repeated the process with your right leg.

With your shoes off, Chris climbed back up to jerk my sweater over your head, revealing your lace bra that matched the scanty lace thong still hidden by your skirt. But Chris didn’t reach for any more of your clothing articles. Instead he chose to push your back flat against the sheets to press his mouth against the tops of your breasts spilling out of your bra.

It was a rare occasion you had decided to wear a push up bra, you had full intentions to get laid tonight just to forget about your Christopher Argent woes. Jokes on you because said man was now lavishing your chest with sharp little kisses that left little marks behind. The sting from his little bites followed by the soothing feeling of his tongue flicking across your skin quickly reduced you to a softly moaning mess beneath him and you weren’t even naked yet.

Your hands went above your head to latch onto the silky sheets, needing something to hold while he mercilessly explored your chest. All lovers before Chris pale in comparison already, boys thinking they were men were only interested in getting in and then off as quickly as possible. But not Chris.

He was taking his time, exploring your body, mapping it out beneath his fingers and mouth, acquainting himself with what your had to offer. Which was everything. When he wasn’t kissing or tugging at your skin, his breath was tickling your skin until goosebumps appeared.

Chris moved up your chest, his tongue dipping into the grooves above your collar bones. His hands settled on your bare sides and started to slide around to your back, heading for the bra strap in the middle of your back. Arching your back so his fingers could undo the three hooks, you closed your eyes and breathed out slowly as each hook came free.

When the bra snapped open and the straps on your shoulders went slack, a streak of nervousness went through you. You didn’t have time to stew in the ‘what ifs’ because Chris was pulling your bra free from your shoulders and arms. He tossed it to the floor and took a moment to just hover over you, staring down at your bared chest.

“You’re so beautiful,” Chris murmured before bending down to capture your lips once more. His mouth nipped at yours, tugging on your lower lip until you parted your lips and he could kiss you deeper.  Abandoning your grip on the sheets, your hands snapped around to take his face in hand. Just the feel of his skin and stubble beneath your fingertips felt heavenly.

Every brush of skin on skin contact had you pulling him closer and wanting more. While you were hungrily kissing each other, you started tugging his shirt up, revealing toned stomach and sculpted muscles. Being a hunter sure paid off… Pulling apart, you ripped his shirt off his body, ruffling his hair as you chucked the offending material to the floor.

You hands snaked underneath his arms to yank him down so he was flush against your body. Feeling his skin pressed against yours was serendipitous. While you were digging your fingertips into his back, Chris was finally working his own hands down your sides to pick at the waistline of your skirt.

Lifting your hips, the leopard print fabric was dragged down from your waist, over your hips, and flicked from your legs. Cold air hit your wet thong and thighs, drawing a shiver up your spine and pulling a throaty sigh from your lips.

“Matching set?” Chris questioned, his lips curving into a smirk as his eyebrow rose. You gave him a defiant smirk back. His hand landed on your thigh and his thumb started brushing up against your sensitive inner leg. “You really are asking for it, aren’t you?”

“Come on,” You breathed as you sank your nails into his belt, tugging at it to make a point. “You’ve made your point already, Christopher, I need you.”

“Don’t worry, Isla,”Chris said as he bent down to place a line of kisses along your collar bone. “I’ll save the teasing for a later date.”

He withdrew his hands and the glorious sounds of a belt being undone reached your ears. Your blood hummed in your veins while your eyes focused on staying connected with Chris’s blue ones. The sound of metal and jeans hitting the floor was music to your ears and you practically screamed with joy when Chris’s hands grabbed your legs and yanked your body closer to the edge of the bed.

A soft moan left your lips as he bent down to kiss a fiery trail across your hip bone, Chris’s mouth then started to brush across the low edge of your thong. You barely hand time to blink before his fingers were hooking around the straps and yanking the material down your legs.

You couldn’t close the space between your bodies fast enough, reaching up to slip your hands underneath his arms, you pulled him back down for a passionate kiss. Chris’s own hands went to your hips as he kissed you back, your mouths working against each other like you had hours spent exploring each other, not minutes.

Hands briefly leaving your hips, a partial smile appeared on your lips at the sound of a condom being ripped open. Oh well, you could tell him later…

When the tip of his cock brushed against your folds, you shuddered in his grasp and let out a breathy moan against his lips. Chris devoured each and every sound that came forth from your throat, and your noises only increased when he started pushing in.

Your head dropped back into the sheets as your back arched, your walls burning slightly as they stretched. You will admit, you hadn’t thought this entirely through. You were used to boys caught between teen and adult who thought their dick was bigger than the next guy. You were totally unprepared for what it felt like being with a real man.

Breathing heavily while trying to keep yourself fully relaxed, you hugged Chris’s body against your, burying your face in his shoulder as he ran his lips along your neck whispering praises.

“You’re so unfairly perfect,” You complained breathlessly, curling your nails into his shoulders when he bottomed out and just stayed there, letting your body fully adjust. Chris chuckled in your ear before pressing a few kisses on the tender skin.

“It’s called experience and knowing how to treat a woman right, Isla.” Chris responded while moving his hot and sinful lips along your jaw. Sighing out, you opened your eyes to gaze up into his burning blue ones.

“If you are trying to prove a point, you already have,” His lips twitched into that half smile of his you loved before he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours.

“I don’t need to prove a point anymore,” He answered, your noses brushing while he released one of your hips to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed across your kiss swollen lips. “I only wanted you to give me a chance.”

“Your cock is stuffed so far in my body I feel liked a stuffed turkey, I think that you’ve more than just made a point.” You stated boldly with a wiggle of your eyebrow. His own eyebrow rose at your words. “Fuck me already.”

“You kiss your mother with that dirty mouth Miss Y/L/N?” He questioned with a teasing smile. You giggled in return, your lips stretching into a devious grin.

“What mommy dearest doesn’t know, won’t hurt her.” You returned with a shrug of your shoulders. “Now are you going to put those delicious muscles to work? I haven’t got all day…”

“So demanding,” Chris murmured before complying with your demands and wishes. Keeping his intense blue eyes locked with yours, he pulled back almost to the point of leaving you high and dry before thrusting forwards. Your mouth dropped open as you let out a loud groan, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Chris pushed the hair back from your face before angling his lips back to yours. Pressing yours lips firmly against his, you ran your tongue over his upper lip. You had never kissed a man quite like Christopher Argent, every time you gave an inch, he took a mile and left you skydiving with land nowhere in sight.

Wrapping your legs around his torso, you held onto him while trying not to be overwhelmed by both physical and emotional feelings that consumed your very being. Lost in a world of reverie and pleasure, your heart rate increased along with the blood pumping through your veins. Chris’s mouth pulled away from you and started trailing down your neck, sucking possessive marks on the areas of your skin that were most sensitive.

You had always pegged Christopher Argent as a gentle lover, that was true and you were sure he could be. But not when you’ve been skirting around him for months, not willing to take things further than friendship. Giving into his touch tonight showed you the darker side of him, the possessive, rough, yet fully satisfying love.

You would not be walking away from this bed unsatisfied, if you would be able to walk period.

Fingers dug into your hair, pulling your head back as Chris’s other hand brushed down your back to take a hand full of your ass and give it a squeeze.

“You are so perfect, Isla,” Chris rumbled against your neck before drawing his mouth down to your breasts, in an instant his mouth was covering one of your nipples once more. His hot mouth combined with hard thrusts had your chest arching to him while your mouth parted to release whimpers.

Gasping and trembling beneath his body, you could only anticipate the orgasm that was slowly building in the core of your body. Your back slid up the sheets every time your pelvises crashed against each other. With your face faced against his shoulders, you slipped a hand to the back of his neck and pressed his face to the breast he was currently lavishing like it was the best damn thing he had ever put in his mouth.

When your orgasm finally hit you, you threw your head back as you writhed underneath his hot touch. You knew your mouth was open but you couldn’t hear what sounds you were making because the ringing in your ears over took all other sounds. Chest heaving, you panted for breath while Chris ripped his mouth from your nipple and growled.

His own body jerked while he chased his own orgasm, finally slumping down where he placed a few kisses on your marked neck. It was silent for a few moments as you both breathed heavily. Your hand stroked through his short hair as you stared up at the ceiling.

“Would now be a bad time to tell you that I have an implant and you could’ve forgone the condom?” The exaggerated groan/sigh that came from his lips was the exact answer you needed, and down right laughable.

“It took me who knows how long to even kiss you, and you’re telling me I could have come inside you?” Chris questioned before sinking his teeth into your neck lightly. “You are a teasing little shit, you know that?”

The giggles that poured out of your mouth where unstoppable as you snorted in laughter, slapping a hand over your mouth to smother your enjoyment of his exasperation.

“Next time, Christopher, next time,” You giggled while curling your fingers against his scalp. “I owe you a couple of dates…”

“Yes, you do,” He responded with a sated sigh. “But at the moment all I want is to hold you in my arms.”

“Great, cause at the moment all I feel like doing is lying here.” You responded while leaning your cheek against his head. Chris pressed a few more kisses on your neck before raising his head and brushing his fingers through your now messy hair.

“Why don’t you tuck yourself in, I need to lock up.” Chris murmured, giving your head one last kiss before pulling away. You let out a groan as he slipped from your body and his heat disappeared. Chris laughed as you propped yourself up and rubbed your prickling arms.

Watching as he went to his dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants, your view of his ass quickly disappeared (much to your disappointment), and next came out a shirt. But rather than diminish that view, he tossed the shirt your way. Catching the soft material before it hit your face, your raised an eyebrow and looked down at it.

“You’re trusting me with one of your favorite shirts?” You questioned him as you held the soft material up in front of you. It certainly looked like it would feel divine on your skin, and it was a bonus that it smelled like Chris.

“Something tells me you’ll look better in it than I ever will,” Chris returned with that little smirk of his tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Put that on, I want you under the covers by the time I’m back.”

“Someone’s feeling bossy,” You huffed before pulling the shirt on over your head. Chris made a noise of approval as you crossed your arms and gave him a “are you happy now” look, before leaving the room. Grumbling underneath your breath, you turned around and crawled to the head of the bed.

Pulling back the covers, you climbed underneath the sheets and rolled onto your side, letting out a sigh as your body ached in satisfaction. Well tonight certainly hadn’t ended like you were expecting and you were still slightly hesitant with the end result, but a promise was a promise and you would give the two of you a shot.

It had to have been only a few minutes before the lights in the hall turned off and the bed moved slightly as Chris climbed in to join you. Scooting over to where you were laying, Chris slung an arm over your waist before burying his nose in your neck.

“You do realize that Allison is never, ever, going to let me forget this, right?” You questioned sleepily as you wove your fingers with the hand resting on your stomach. He chuckled against your neck and hugged your body closer to his chest.

“That’s what you get for being best friends with my daughter, Isla,” Chris answered smugly while you groaned softly at the implications. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow morning.”

“I’m not explaining this one to her.”

“Isla, I’m pretty sure my daughter knew what she was doing when she sent that text and had everyone ditch you.”

“So my best friend knows I slept with her father? Great, just great.”

“At least we don’t have to tell her.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better Christopher!”

“We’ll deal with it in the morning, now go to sleep.”

“You are so bossy,”

“Isla!”

“What!?” You huffed at him before wiggling backwards to tuck yourself as far into his chest as you could. Sighing, you closed your eyes. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, Is.” Chris murmured, burying his face in your hair.

Date Published: 6/5/22

Last Edit: 6/5/22

[truetogaia]

Hi just wondering if you would be open to writing a headcanon with some of the male avatar characters where their female mate is insecure about her chest?

featuring: Tsu’tey, Jake, Quaritch, Tonowari.

genre: headcanons

warnings: mentions of body dysmorphia, insecurities, like strong language??, quaritch is a dick because he doesn't understand but he eventually realizes!!

notes: HI OF COURSE I WILL!!! Also, If this is a request based on you, I'm so sorry you have to feel that way. You are a creation of earth herself, one of many beautiful beings wandering this planet of life. I know it might not be of much help, but you are quite literally stardust, created in a supernova explosion billions of years ago. Your skin was formed out of the cosmos, your soul is a domain of the universe and your body is the divine fortress of the galaxies and the heavenly bodies littering the sky, molded specifically for your spirit. Humanity has completely turned away from their mother and have created the concept of unbelievable beauty standards, which, by the way, do not even align with the laws of nature?? Don’t listen to social media. Think of yourself as a star, a celestial being, because that's what we all are, that is what you are. 

okay, now for the actual request!! SORRY

JAKE

Jake is absolutely obsessed with every single part of you. And sure, he is a very sexual man, always goofing around intimately, but regarding matters like these, he can be extremely serious. He loves every inch of blue skin covering your body, and adores every curve that gives shape to it. There is not one thing that he would change about you, he wouldn't dream to design you any differently if he got the chance to. So when you finally opened up about your insecurities regarding your chest, he was baffled. Never in a million years did he think you could carry these insecurities about something so indescribably perfect. 

He spent every following day trying his utmost best to make you forget those absurdities, drowning you in reassuring and loving words, making sure you knew exactly how jaw dropping you truly are. 

“y/n, listen to me.” Your gaze shifted uncomfortably around the room, not daring to meet your mates eyes. “Hey,” he gently grabbed your hands, placing them against his chest, “this heart,” you felt it thump wildly beneath your palms, “its purpose is to love you, and It serves its purpose every day, without fail. You are undoubtedly the most beautiful being this world has created, there is not a single error on your beautiful body.” 

You had him wrapped around your finger, he would do whatever was needed for you to feel as loved and beautiful as you are, and he was gonna make damn sure you knew of it.

TONOWARI

Wari could not believe his pointy ears. His main priority had always been to make sure you were completely aware of the immense love he held for you in his heart. The words that left your mouth were nonsense, and his brain was trying to puzzle it together. There was absolutely no reason for such an astonishing, ravaging person as yourself to feel that way. His heart ached as your eyes darted to the floor at his expression. His eyes told of the utter confusion he experienced, and you felt stupid. 

“I’m sorry, I know It’s stupid and all but.. I can’t help but feel this way sometimes.” You finally managed to meet his gaze, and when you locked eyes, his features immediately softened. 

“My beautiful girl, you are as ravaging as the ocean, and as heavenly as the cosmos. Your mere presence is enough to send a million men to their knees, enough to make me never want to forget a single thing regarding you. Even after death, I want every trivial, petty detail to stay with me until the end of time itself.”

Your smile makes his heart tingle slightly, a warm sensation spreading in your face. He gently cupped your jaw, lifting your face to look up at him. “Oel ngati kameie, y/n.” Your foreheads pressed together as you closed your eyes, reveling in the gentle affirmations before repeating his words back to him.

QUARITCH

Quaritch is a man who doesn’t enjoy being emotional. He isn’t emotionally available at all, physically and mentally recoiling at the mention or thought of being openly affectionate on an emotional level with someone. But when you came into his life, something switched in him. He tried his best to be at least.. somewhat open and supportive. He tries his best, I promise. 

But, when you opened up to him about your insecurities, his brain malfunctioned. He couldn't connect the dots you so desperately gave to him. The two of you were in bed when you told him, your head was propped up on his bicep as he laid on his back. His tail nervously flicked around, he was trying to come up with a solution, like the strategist that he is, but he turned up empty handed.

“Sorry, sweetie, but what the hell are you talking about?” He turned his face to you, eyes slightly narrowed as he tried to make sense of your words. You twisted and squirmed uncomfortably.

“I don’t know.. S’ just that sometimes I feel like.. You know.. It's not as beautiful as you think it is.” He almost laughed at that, snorting as he tried suppressing the itching laughter. When his little fit of chuckles ended, he looked down at you again. You were frowning, lip slightly quivering as your face was turned away. He realized his mistakes, a slight panic settling over him as he shifted his body towards you and softly placed his hand on the side of your face, turning you to him again.

“I’m so sorry, bunny. I didn’t mean to make you upset, you know that.” You looked up at him, sensing a genuine apologetic aura from him. “You’re my finest, most amazing prize, pumpkin. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with you.” A smile spread on your face as your dear mate tried his best to comfort you. You knew he didn’t have a way with words, but him trying meant so much.

TSU’TEY

Tsu’tey is such a sweetheart when it comes to his mate. He showers them in praises and compliments, love and adoration. His heart swells with pride each time the two of you go out, reveling in the jealous looks from the other males. He knew something was off the minute you started doubting yourself. He didn’t even give you a moment to think about it.

“Yawne, is something wrong?” The two of you were sat in your shared home, nuzzled together in front of the head of the fire. You shook your head, locking your gaze on the flames eagerly licking the wood. 

“I know when you're lying.” He was right. He always knew, right from the start. Even before the lies had formed on your tongue. “I’ve noticed the way you look at yourself in your reflection.” Your head shot up at that, turning to him. “Whatever it is, stop. Yawne, you are so mesmerizing, truly. There is no better mate, I mean it.” 

You placed your head on his hard shoulder, sighing while fiddling with your hands. Tsu’tey grabbed them with his unoccupied hand, and brought them to his lap. “Tell me, ma tsawksyul, what is eating you?” 

A tiny tear almost went unnoticed by you, until tsu’tey calmly wiped it away with his thumb. You finally opened up, spilling your heart out to him. His heart twinged with the knowledge that you had felt this way all this time, and he hadn’t known. 

“My sweet girl, you are the omaticaya’s most beautiful woman. I did not mate with you just because of your amazing personality, the clan's most fierce warrior has his standard high, you know.” A giggle left your lips and it soon turned into a fit of laughter. He smiled, heart warming with each wheeze that left your lungs.

[sailormoonsailorstars]

Hello tumblr :3 I have some thoughts for both the Sailor Moon / TBHK-JSHK fandoms and the OSDDID community.

For clarification I am a host of a dx’d DID system. Traumagenic.

tw for like… idk ranting, abuse mentions, and things along those lines!

I have felt since system discovery that the take of “this character trope, this character in media is not accurate representation therefore this is bad and you supporting it is bad and you are bad” is kind of … stupid?

For one, everyone experiences dissociation or plurality differently. Saying people cannot enjoy Touko Fukawa & Syo as a system because it’s bad rep is weird. Saying people cannot headcanon Izuru and Hajime as a system is also weird. Personally, it’s none of your business what people find comfort in especially if they are a system or plural.

Anyways, I’m starting off with this because I think people forget that you do not have to literally interpret things like possession, mind control, or illness in media as those things. I think you can see those things as symbolism for being a system if you want.

Case 1: Hotaru Tomoe (& Sailor Saturn with Mistress 9)

In Sailor Moon- no matter which adaptation you consume Hotaru Tomoe is clearly shown to be separate from Saturn and Mistress/Messiah all while residing in the same body. In order to access herself as Saturn she has to literally meet her and be reawakened. This is a really similar experience to my system discovery and I think other systems might see it too! Mistress 9 is one of the stereotypes that people would disagree with since in canon she is a demon possessing Hotaru- but even that I feel like could be interpreted differently.

Saturn is protective of Hotaru and her friends. Hotaru is sweet, and kind. She is there most of the time. And mistress 9 could be interpreted as a persecutor. I’ve always seen Hotaru in this light.

And for anyone that wants to go by the DSM: Hotaru has severe childhood trauma. She lost her mother in a fire/explosion that she was apart of. Her and her father were possessed by demons- her father was straight up neglectful and abusive medically. And his “partner” Kaori was abusive towards Hotaru.

Case 2: Aoi Akane (and her “fake” personality.)

This one is less implied, more of a headcanon but- Aoi has outright said she puts up a front for people around her. The Aoi people know vs. The Aoi that she is are completely different. On top of this, when Hakubo (No.6) gives her that potion she acts completely different than either side of that spectrum.

And again for DSM truthers: I’m not sure how much of this is canon to the main timeline but Aoi has a neglectful and shitty dad in general. It’s never out right stated that she’s been abused but I would think she is. On top of that, she’s extremely popular and has to live up to the standards that people put for her… which she can’t ever reach because they’ll always get higher and higher.

Case 3: Mei Shijima (and Shijima San of The Art Room)

This one has always grinded my gears tbh.

Mei and Shijima are shown to be two separate people from the start. Shijima being Mei’s own creation to cope with what is most likely cancer / terminal illness and the fact that despite her passion she is going to die soon.

But people get upset or confused when it’s posted that they are separate characters? And get even more upset about shipping them together. Like, I don’t know how to tell singlets this but inner system dating is not unusual. They also hardly look the same which seems to be most peoples problems. They don’t have the same hair color or eye color and also just all around are physically and emotionally different.

Shijima is extremely protective over Mei and became very very upset when people made rumors spinning Mei’s illness related death into Mei hurting herself over her parents.

I think they’re a beautiful representation of plurality. Mei forgives Shijima for persecuting her, because she knew Shijima was just trying to keep what Mei actually stood by while she was alive there.

Anyways I’m sorry this became a super long info dump. TL;DR let systems or any plural person have their headcanons. They are not hurting anyone. And also keep an open mind to things in media! Hotaru’s character is very special to me but I often don’t talk about her being a system to others because the sailor moon fandom is very very tricky. Especially the millennial side of it.

[manicpixxiedreambitch]

Vent Post.

When I was in seventh grade, I started having my mom curl my hair every morning before school. I remember sitting down in front of her while she curled my hair one morning and I asked her “Mom, am I pretty?” And she said “Yes. But your acne’s not. You should get into makeup so you can cover it” and so I did. You think that I was only told I was pretty growing up? No matter what I did to try and look good enough, pretty enough, it never was enough. I was doing it wrong. My sister picked on me for having body hair, legs, pits, down there, she even kept saying I had bushy eyebrows. And you know what I did? I cut my eyebrows off. And then I got picked on by her and my mom for not having eyebrows and cutting them off. My mom constantly got on me about lip hair (and a unibrow which, news flash, NEVER FUCKING EXISTED.) I couldn’t forget to shave my pits or nair or wax my lip without getting a comment on it. I was scolded for not caring enough about my hair, and then when I tried to style it I was doing it wrong. When I pulled it out I got complaints on it being frizzy. When I ate a little too much I got a lecture that I better quit eating so much or I’m gonna lose my metabolism and get fat. I got picked on by my mom and my sister for not wearing a bra- in elementary school! Yeah, I started developing a little earlier than other girls, hell I already was at the size of cotton balls when I was in second grade! But bras were too tight and uncomfortable and I got picked on by my mom and my sister for not wearing them until I was going into sixth grade. I was a little girl! Of course I didn’t want to use a bra yet! And when I noticed my hair wasn’t blonde anymore? Well I was devastated! Blonde hair was something that all pretty girls had. So I had my mom highlight it. There was always a nickname for something wrong with me. And it felt like nothing was ever done right. I’d get told that I sucked at fashion and then when I tried I got picked on for wearing weird outfits. I got picked on for having acne, and then I got picked on for wearing “too much makeup” to cover it! I couldn’t even like my own eyes! They were blue when I was little, but then they turned green and my mom couldn’t really figure it out what color they were. So I went and I hated those too! I was told to actually try more with my hair, so I followed my mom’s instructions. And then I’d go to school with curly hair and my mom would groan and say that I didn’t do it right, that I was supposed to brush out my hair in the morning, re wet it, and out more mousse in it, which was stupid because not only does that defeat the purpose of doing it the first time before I go to bed, but it also sends me to school with my hair looking and feeling worse- wet and crunchy! I couldn’t even have normal body parts. Big feet, weird, big nose. Yeah, I was told I was beautiful and pretty a whole bunch throughout my life, but I was also told I was ugly a whole fucking bunch, too. I know I am beautiful because I had to teach myself that. I had to sit my ass down in front of a mirror and fucking teach myself that I wasn’t ugly. That I am fucking beautiful. I looked at myself and realized that I didn’t look beautiful to myself. Just to everyone else. And everyone else is trying to base my beauty on someone who isn’t me. Which wasn’t fair. Shouldn’t I be my own standard for beauty? And I looked at myself and I said… do I really look all that bad? No. I look beautiful. I just don’t look exactly like Taylor Swift or Marilyn Monroe or any Hollywood stars I knew of. But I have pretty eyes, and a strong face shape, and now that I look at myself, I can’t find anything wrong with myself. So the next time someone dared to say I was anything less than beautiful I called them out on it and I shut them down. I know I’m fucking beautiful, because I had to fight to make myself realize that we as human beings are beautiful in our most natural state- the state we exist in to feel beautiful and comfortable to no one else but ourselves.

[cloudbattrolls]

And We Hold On

Hazard Ailaht | Selatak | Present Night

Selatak: sweltering by anyone’s standards, especially Hazard Ailaht’s as he wiped his face and walked into his hive at the edge of the city.

He sighed in relief as hive’s air conditioning blew over his warm skin and his lusus slithered up, tongue flicking. The blueblood locked the door behind him, bent down to give the animal a few scratches on the snout, then hurried onward.

Goh Tat didn’t take kindly to lateness, after all.

He grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen, settled into his home office chair, and flicked open his laptop. It took only seconds to click the link and join the video call - good thing, too, he only had a minute to spare.

“Haz.” Said the older blueblood, usual crooked smile adorning his face. 

No one else called him anything but Hazard, which Goh Tat knew perfectly well. But the nickname was one of the most minor things he had to put up with, and he couldn’t afford to show dislike, so he only nodded.

”Good job making buddies with that Velour kid - can always use the publicity. Though he did get into a scandal not too long ago, and not the fun kind….watch your step. Cut him loose if he puts his foot in it again.”

He ended the request with a laugh, as if what he’d said was incredibly hilarious.

“I’m aware, sir.” Hazard said. 

He wasn’t, really. Viltau had alluded to it, but he didn’t want to know more - unlike Goh Tat, personal gossip just wasn’t that interesting to him most of the time.

Besides, it was none of his business.

“Great, love to hear it…now about those hemoanons, whoof! You know better than that, huh? Velour, fine unless he fucks himself again, and Espino seems legit - heard he offed some old fleet hag, but who cares about that? She probably had it coming.” He said with a yawn.

Hazard went still.

“I don’t see why it matters.” He says slowly. “The library allows hemoanons.”

Goh Tat laughed again, but there was no humor in it.

“Sure we do, for whatever fucking reason…but they’re not fit company, Haz. One of them thinks he’s real fucking hilarious coming to yank my dick and mess with my guards. I admit - it has been kind of funny and it gives those meatheads something to do, what else do I pay them for? But it better not go beyond that.” He said, voice now dangerously soft and intent, blue eyes gleaming.

Unlike Hazard, his pupils were split into four - hard to see unless you were up close. The signature trait of the Ailaht bloodline. The marker of vision fourfold - when it had properly developed.

“So why don’t you spend some time with your real buddies.” The actor said, tone still soft. “Ditch ‘em.”

The librarian’s heart beat horribly fast, and he had to struggle to not breathe too shallowly.

He couldn’t think.

He knew what he should do. He should back down. He should play it safe. The things Goh Tat could do to him were many and terrible.

Still the words forced themselved past his gritted fangs.

“No.”

He said.

Goh Tat blinked, like he couldn’t believe Hazard had actually said it. He squinted, waiting for the punchline, and when none was forthcoming he smiled sharp and without any joy.

“Oh, kid…you fucking know better. We both know you know better. You’re not a stupid guy, are you, Haz? You’re smart. That’s half of why you’re still alive.”

Goh Tat examined his claws idly. “Apologize and I’ll forget about it. I’m in a good mood tonight.”

It would be easy. Just say sorry. Swallow his pride. Swallow the insult.

Fail his new friends.

The older cerulean, nobody’s fool, raised his eyebrows at the hesitation.

“You think they’d like you if they knew what a freak of nature you are?” He said, tone so low and calm, so pointed.

No. They probably wouldn’t. 

He wasn’t a mutant, legally speaking. His blood was as dark and healthy as any normal troll’s.

That mattered nothing to Goh Tat.

“I won’t…” He choked up, his hands shaking. “I won’t stop…talking to them. They haven’t hurt the library. I’ll owe you a favor.”

Goh Tat’s eyes glittered. He wasn’t pleased, exactly, but he was listening.

“Look at you, bargaining like you have power…but you know what, I’ve been bored for a week or so, my girl’s off taking a break. I could use some entertainment. Sure, you owe me a favor, anything I want - or I’ll march right into that library and start setting the books on fire.”

Hazard’s eyes narrowed.

“No.” He said, eerily calm now. “You won’t. Or you’ll die.”

He hated it the moment he said it, hated saying something like that even to Goh Tat, hated it as much as he hated his ancestor because -

-because briefly, almost imperceptibly, the older man’s eyes were afraid, and he shied back the barest inch from his screen. 

Then the actor recovered, his sharp smile sliding back into place.

“Aw, you think you can threaten me, isn’t that cute.” He drawled. “Take a fucking hint and let it go, Haz, I was kidding. You’re such a hardass.”

Saying so, the older blueblood ended the call, and Hazard wilted into his chair, wracked with nerves and guilt. 

They both knew it was a lie. They both knew why Goh Tat almost never saw him in person, and if he did, Hazard had to come to him, not the other way around.

For all that Goh Tat was older, stronger, and much better at fighting, the elder Ailaht was highly aware of one thing.

He knew just how easily his descendant could kill him.

[knifegiver]

Can we talk about the misogyny of the hotd fandom? Not the book, not the show. The fans. Through both team.

No matter what side you're on, or if you do the smart thing and find all of them equally horrible and entertaining, there is misogyny rampant throughout the fan spaces.

Let me talk about Luke for a second. Everyone and their neighbor gasped when the poor little baby was killed. Except... he wasn't a baby. In modern terms he wasn't even a child. At 14 he was a teenager. And while I obviously agree that killing a teenager is not okay (just throwing that out there for the people who want to come for my ass), that's not the sweet gentle baby the fandom make him out to be.

Let's see, who else was the same age at one point? Oh yeah, Rhaenyra and Alicent at the beginning of s1. But for some reason - could it be that double standard of what girls have to hold themselves to and what boys have to hold themselves to? - everyone expected those girls to act mature enough to condemn them when they made stupid decisions. So, why is Luke a poor innoncent baby when Rhaenyra and Alicent were just one year older and were held to a grown-up standard?

Also, slight tangent. Luke was in Storm's End on official business. He had a job. His job was not to fight but just be a messenger. Have we forgotten that Daemon beat the messenger that brought him Visery's letter with his helmet? We don't even know if that messenger survived that. Anyway, Luke wasn't a poor child savagely murdered, he was an ambassador who was killed because the other side didn't keep it civil. But that is not a trait that is unique to the Greens. And let's not forget that Laena at 12 was specifically told that age 14 was acceptable for Viserys to knock her up. Again, same age.

It just vexes me that 14-year-old Luke is treated one way while 15-year-old Rhaenyra and Alicent are treated another, and 14-year-old Laena would've been of child-bearing age. That's the same age group. So that either makes Luke not a child, or it makes all the girls children. The show and the book cannot be held accountable to that because 1. it's fiction, and 2. it's the setting of the story. But the fandom, with all their modern morals and everything, they should be held accountable for that. I literally do not care if you think Rhaenyra can do no wrong, or if you think Aemond is a misunterstodd babygirl. But please, for the love of everything holy, TREAT PEOPLE THAT ARE THE SAME AGE FREAKING THE SAME!

[ihopesocomic]

Yeah, I watched the review and even rewatched the part about Quickmane to make sure I didn't miss anything. What's your point? Because it still felt like you didn't explain things coherently or maybe I'm just too stupid to understand. Authorial intent doesn't always mean everything (case in point: Hover supposedly being a good love interest when she's anything but), but has the creator ever said anything on someone like Quickmane not being a villain? And every antagonist has their fans, but as I don't lurk in the fandom often, is this out of a genuine like for Quickmane or is it that he's hated except for this or that specific thing they like about him? Hence why I brought up whether or not he was liked compared to more popular characters like Nothing or Feather. Hell, I even brought up that if the intention was to make him sympathetic, then it wasn't handled well at all! Seriously, I enjoyed the review otherwise and I'm sorry if I'm being rude, I just wish certain parts could've been elaborated on better.

There is a HUGE difference between "liking an antagonist" and people saying things like - and I quote - "wow, I wish Quickmane could be brought back because he was an utter cinnamon roll as opposed to Proudmane!" cue a legit YT comment argument as to how somebody who kills babies isn't as bad as a homophobe "because he has to do what he did to survive"

Like Cat said: we haven't made this shit up. People genuinely vibe with Quickmane because he wasn't homophobic. I know you keep saying "yea but he isn't popular as opposed to our main protagonists" but... that doesn't matter? Of course he's not going to be uber popular like Feather or Nothing? Still doesn't mean this isn't a major issue with the show. And another thing: how is a concerned parent who thought he lost his kids not supposed to be a completely sympathetic figure? Just ask yourself who you're gonna root for: that sort of figure or the individual who left kids unattended in the middle of the African wilderness?

The show tries to get us to feel bad for EVERYBODY. No asshole is exempt here. Quickmane, Proudmane, even Powerstrike who legit said looking at her disabled daughter makes her feel "weak" and Farleap who pulled /r/thathappened shit out of her ass to justify abusing her disabled sister. And this is simply because "sympathetic villains" are all the rage now. That's it. The creator felt it would make her villains "more complex" like the more well-handled examples she no doubt drew inspiration from and this came before hammering down that their actions - particularly abuse and murder - can never be justified or sympathised with. And that's why your argument that "villains have standards" is irrelevant here. Yes, they do. But most of the examples on TVTropes never have their actions diminished or justified through that trope? They are still portrayed as firmly wrong in their actions, especially if those actions concern abuse or murder. It's the same thing with Edge in our comic: yes, he's portrayed as somebody who cares for his kids but... he's still evil and has killed people. Which we choose to bring up and remind the audience of as opposed to just forgetting about it after the first episode like My Pride did. lol - RJ

[crmsnmth]

September Sky Chapter Eight, Part 1

"Fuck you!" I shouted from the locked bathroom. It was the only place in the apartment that locked from the inside. And I needed to lock her out.

"You're such a piece of shit!" She replied. I could hear her breaking things, my things, and I knew if I opened that door, something was bound to come flying at my head. And I knew I was too tired to dodge it.

I hadn't slept in three days, so I wasn't all there in my head. That's what Emily was upset about. I was forgetful and couldn't do anything right at all. Only now she was saying I was this way on purpose. That I fought sleep so I could have an excuse for being stupid. Or in her words 'retarded.'

"What's wrong? Can't come out and face me, you fucking pussy?" Something hard hit the door and I could hear it shatter. Probably a plate or glass. I'm sure with how many times I've heard that thump and shatter, the floor outside the bathroom would be littered with shards of broken glass and porcelain,

"Fuck you." It seemed those two words were all my rattled brain could come up with. And that was fine. Those two words were my sentiments and if I said anything else, it would just be used against me. Like everything else that would come out of my mouth.

"No, fuck you. I asked you to do one fucking thing and you couldn't even do that right." She was in a rage because I missed two dishes in the living room. Two plates. Every chore had been done, to her standards. Even though those standards changed on a daily basis. It didn't really matter, because those two dishes were enough to set her off.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was skeletal. I'd always been skinny, but my skin was never tight on my bones. And now it was. I didn't eat much. Not just because I was extremely depressed but also because I just didn't have time to eat more than a small snack here and there.

My eyes were sunken in. Lack of sleep does some strange things to the body. I looked like I was dying and I guess in a way I was. The stressful environment that was my waking days was killing me. I was going to die by pure exhaustion and sadness. That's if I didn't take my life first, and I had thought about ending it almost daily on the tail end of Emily and I's relationship.

I stared at myself, the sounds from outside the door slowly fading as I escaped into my dissociative world. There was no fighting and screaming there. No glass shattering. No fresh scars. It was safe there. I wasn't the worst thing on the planet.

"Open the fucking door!" She screamed and pounded her fists on the door. I had to wait this out. Soon enough her mood would change, and she'd love me again. We'd finish off nights like this, laying together on our couch, watching some stupid show on Netflix. That was her way of saying sorry. At least that's how I took it. She was the queen of the gaslight anthems, where "I never said that" means "I love you."

Her fists soon slowed and gained less interest in trying to knock open the door. I sighed slightly. This was almost over. I just needed to wait it out a little longer.

"Fuck this." I heard her say before her footsteps lead away and back out into the living room. I heard the TV turn on, some stupid sitcom filling the air with canned laughter. I sat down on the edge of the bathtub. I was shaking. Out of frustration and sadly, out of fear.

I looked at the line along my palm, remembering when she had tried to stab me. I knew that if I stayed with her, there was a pretty good chance I'd become another homicide statistic. And I didn't care. If this is how I was to die, then so be it. Life wasn't worth living if everything was miserable.

I waited maybe five more minutes before I slowly unlocked the door and stepped out into the apartment. It was quiet and it game a false sense of security. As soon as I was away from the bathroom, a plate flew out of nowhere, hitting me in the ribs and falling to the floor, now shards.

Emily stood at the end of the small hall. She was waiting for me, and I had not given her enough time to settle herself.

"You piece of shit!" She screamed, as she came running at me. I'm sure all our neighbors hated us. Her hands connected with my face, leaving scratches that beaded little drops of blood. Already, I was trying to figure out some excuse to why my face was full of marks. I guess I could blame it on the cat.

I tried shoving her away, but with no sleep and a lack of nutrition, I had no strength. She slapped me across the face for some unknown conviction. I grabbed her arms and looked her directly in the eyes.

"Stop fucking hitting me." I said, each word living it's own life as a sentence. I held tightly on her wrists, not caring if I left marks or not. I didn't want to be hit anymore.

"Fuck you." I think the words fuck you left our mouths more than any other word. Definitely more than I love you, or I'm sorry. Fuck you was our love language.

She fought against my hold, and it didn't take her much to break free. I didn't have the strength to hold her back anymore. So I took the clawing at my face. I took the pushing and shoving. I stood there and let her take everything out on me waiting for her to tire herself out. I took the punch to my face.

"You're an asshole. Fucking worthless piece of shit," She turned away from me and headed off into our bedroom. It was late but I couldn't tell you the time. I stopped paying attention to the clock and the passing of time months ago. When things were made clear. Things that this was no good, but I had no escape. This is all I was worth. I was worth nothing.

[hot-take-tournament]

IMPORTANT UPDATE:

NEW SUBMISSIONS DEADLINE

So you've probably noticed that despite submissions officially closing on Friday, it is now well into Saturday.

Let me explain.

Originally, I decided to make the hard deadline midnight Pacific Standard Time, since I know based on when activity peaks on this blog that a lot of you seem to live on the west coast, and wanted to make sure everyone had a chance to put in last minute submissions. But then I stayed up tumbling down the Fate rabbit hole, and because it's a Saturday I overslept until noon. Also, someone asked me what my pronouns were a while back, and despite that being a one-word answer for reasons I can't explain that answer ended up being 2500+ words, and then I fell asleep in the bathtub and forgot to put out the announcement clarifying the new deadline, or queue any overnight polls.

So this is the NEW deadline.

Submissions will now close at MIDNIGHT, PACIFIC STANDARD TIME, FOR REAL.

...until I oversleep and forget to close it again, so it will probably still be open after that. But when I do wake up, I'll close submissions INSTANTLY. But if you do manage to sneak in a little in overtime, I won't blame you, and they'll still be eligible for the bracket.

But this is officially your last call - so please, feel free to send in as many submissions as you like! Remember, this is your last chance!

Thanks for sticking with me and my bullshit guys. Every single one of you is a treasure, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

I'll be updating the master post with this information.

There are three other things I want to update you on.

Firstly, a lot of people have started submitting takes through asks - do not do this. Yes, I might make a poll on it, but it will not be eligible for the bracket. Please use the form.

Secondly, yeah, I forgot about the PFP poll again.

The struggles of being an airhead.

The winner of the poll ended up being Hellmo - but I've decided that I can't bring myself to change it. As stupid as it sounds, I've unironically grown so attached to this Astolfo avatar that I genuinely can't bring myself to change it; now that I've gotten so used to it representing me on this blog, the idea of changing it now is heartbreaking to me.

It doesn't help - and I'm being 100% serious - Astolfo was unironically my actual idol when I was a teenager, despite me knowing absolutely nothing about Fate. There's some backstory there which I won't get into now, but I was secretly overjoyed when someone actually suggested them as an avatar, even though it was in literally the weirdest way possible and didn't even relate to 'hot takes' in any way. I didn't say any of that because I didn't want to influence the results, but I will admit that secretly I was really hoping they would win, as unlikely as it was - which is why I decided to use them as an avatar for the short time I had left before the poll closed, knowing they would be swept and that I would be devastated when I did have to change it.

So, I know I said I would abide by the results of every poll, no matter what - it's literally one of the main rules of the blog - but just once I am going to break that rule.

Instead, I'm going to make the Hellmo picture the blog header - I really hope you can at least understand why I'm doing this, and I'm genuinely so, so sorry for letting you guys down like this. I know I've let you guys down before, and I can't apologise enough.

Secondly, I know I've massively overshared on this blog before, and now that I know it might happen again - sometimes I start writing and the words just keep pouring out onto the page - I've decided to start using the tag #h-t-t backstory for those posts if I ever do make another. Those posts might relate to mental health and similar issues, potentially including substance abuse. And I know a lot of you guys don't want to see that, so absolutely feel free to block that tag.

That's all for now - again, thank you all so much, and keep putting in the submissions! <3

[lunamaxwritesitall]

Are You Sure You Want to Exit Without Saving?

I'm not sure if I will finish this out or not, especially since I typically don't write angst, ever, but here. Have some Marinette-flavored angst inspired by the fic, It Started With Sleepovers.

=====

She's just so tired of it all. 

She has so much love to give, and no one wants it. 

No one she desperately wants to give it to does, anyway. 

Clearly, there was something very wrong with her if she could ruin something so universally desired as love. 

=======

She’s not stupid. She can feel the subtle thrum of negative energy running through the entire apartment when she goes over to their place to visit. With her anxiety disorder, it’s sometimes difficult to tell when there is an actual problem or just the illusion of one produced by the part of her brain that obviously hates her, but she can still feel it. That thread of tension that pulls taught the moment she crosses their threshold. And, depending on what is (or isn’t) said, it gets wound tighter or looser, but never falls slack. Not completely.

Sometimes, it gets pulled so tight, she’s sure it will snap if there is so much as one more deep sigh.

The source of those is usually Nino.

Alya insists it’s nothing, that Nino is fine, but, again, she isn’t stupid. She knows something is amiss. She just can’t figure out if it’s something real, or perceived. 

She can’t figure out what she did that made someone she’s known since they were barely more than babies pull farther and farther away from her. 

Especially since it's the same person who got locked in a cage at the zoo during an akuma attack right before he was going to ask her out on a date, and came out of that same cage with a new, different girlfriend in tow a few hours later. 

=====

It starts with the treats she brings. Or, it's probably truer to say that's when she notices. She can’t quite pinpoint when it began, but at some point, she realizes Nino has stopped partaking in the things she brings along to share with everyone. At first, she thinks it might be that his tastes have changed, so the food changes, too. She adds more savory things to go in with the sweet, just to shake things up a bit.

As time passes, she realizes it doesn’t really matter what treats she brings. Nino is almost never around to eat any.

She can’t help but wonder if that’s by design, nowadays. His absences. She shakes off the feeling, certain that she’s worrying over nothing. Nino is just busy, like all of them are now that they’re grown. 

Adrien usually offers to make sure Nino’s portion never goes to waste, anyway, so all’s well that ends well, she supposes. 

=====

It’s not until Nino makes a point of leaving as soon as she arrives for five straight visits that she wonders if perhaps she does have a real reason to worry.

She stops wondering after Adrien brings a box of croissants from her parents’ bakery one evening, and Nino polishes off four in one sitting.

She stops bringing anything to share at all, after that. One less thing to worry about forgetting, or making her late, she figures. At least less food goes to waste if she just lets someone else bring the same things she would have.

No one else ever changes the ribbon on the box, though, when they pick up pastries from Tom & Sabine's. No more subtle tributes to the fox and the turtle in the form of orange and green satin. Just the standard plain, but pretty, white ribbon her mother chose years ago.

Probably better for maintaining the bakery's branding, anyway.

She quietly cancels the order of replacement ribbon from her phone while she's locked in their bathroom.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 19: Shadow's Waiting

Hello and welcome back to my reread. Today we're doing chapter 19, SPOILERS Waiting. Spoilers for everything. Wheel of Time (1990-2013). Barbie (2023). Real Life (still in progress). Two of those are jokes, but if you don't want spoilers for this whole book series, run away! My tendrils of knowledge are trying to catch you!

This chapter has a pair of ravens! Since that usually refers to Darkfriends or the Seanchan, neither of which are here, I can only assume it's meant to refer to paranoia. The constant sensation of being watched and the fall of the city due to distrust. Eyes are everywhere but you can't see them.

More buildings had roofs fallen in than had them whole. Tumbled walls spilled fans of brick and stone into the streets. Towers stopped, abrupt and jagged, like broken sticks. Uneven rubble hills with a few stunted trees growing on their slopes could have been the remains of palaces or of entire blocks of the city.

Note that even in the time of the Ten Nations, architectural standards were really high. A lot of the stuff that's getting on 2,000 years old in temperate regions in real life is in way more disrepair than this unless we're actively maintaining it. Nature must find it harder to reclaim Ogier work; it's probably designed to grow into the city and reinforce it up to a point.

And I thought Baerlon was a city! Burn me, but Thom must have been laughing up his sleeve. Moiraine and Lan, too.

Rand is right, but actually Shadar Logoth is something of an over-correction. Most of the cities in his time period have huge and ornate areas, but they don't have every building covered in domes and fountains and spires at every intersection. Things are decaying and retreating.

She gave him a look from the corner of her eye. “The fact is, she needs my herbs, and so do you.” Her voice was acerbic to start, and grew more tart as she spoke. “The fact is, she can only do so much, even with her One Power, and she has done about as much as she can without collapsing. The fact is, your sword cannot help her now, Lord of the Seven Towers, but my herbs can.”

Love how Nynaeve picks up a fact about someone and immediately weaponizes it against them in mockery. She's only extra hurt because the one man she thought understood her is implying she'd be careless in her specialty.

“You going to take care of your horse?” Perrin said. He had already finished his own and was lifting the saddle from Mandarb. Strangely, the fierce-eyed stallion gave him no trouble at all, though he did watch Perrin.

I should make a note to pay attention for how animals in general treat Mr. Werewolf going forward.

“Well, you heard what Moiraine said. It’s as if some dead man was speaking with my mouth. I don’t like it.” His scowl grew deeper when Perrin chuckled. “Aemon’s warcry, she said—right? Maybe you’re Aemon come back again. The way you go on about how dull Emond’s Field is, I’d think you would like that—being a king and hero reborn.” “Don’t say that!” Thom drew a deep breath; everybody stared at him now. “That is dangerous talk, stupid talk. The dead can be reborn, or take a living body, and it is not something to speak of lightly.”

Not sure if this is evidence against my theory or a way that Thom is joining the Denial Gang. He's got to have an inkling about the possibility of the Dragon Reborn at this point, so having the boys proclaim themselves to be the dead come again is really dangerous territory in his eyes.

Also, Mat really doesn't like magic when it happens to him, even if it's not Aes Sedai stuff. He also wouldn't like being a hero reborn and canonically isn't, though I don't know if that was something Jordan himself specified or a detail Sanderson came up with - or, for that matter, if it was something Jordan knew at this point in the writing if it was his idea.

“Aren’t you forgetting the Trollocs?” Perrin said. Mat shook his head scornfully. “Lan said they wouldn’t come in here, remember? You need to listen to what people say.” “I remember,” Perrin said. “And I do listen. This city—Aridhol?—was an ally of Manetheren. See? I listen.”

Huh, this whole time I've been saying Mat's one of the only people in the world who don't think Perrin's stupid, but apparently not! Also, it's worth noting that at no point did anyone tell the boys that they shouldn't wander off, and you might think that it's implied, but since it's these three I'm going to say it's all Moiraine and Lan's fault for not remembering how to deal with idiots. And good lord, but Mat actually convinces Perrin first.

A palace was plainly a palace, but what was a huge building that was one round, white dome as big as a hill outside and one monstrous room inside? And a walled place, open to the sky and big enough to have held all of Emond’s Field, surrounded by row on row on row of stone benches?

Concert halls and sports arenas were canonically a part of the Ten Nations culture. Did they survive to Hawkwing's day, or were these the last hurrah of the Third Age?

“You can sleep anytime,” Mat said determinedly. “Look at where we are. A ruined city. Treasure.”

Honestly this feels really out of nowhere for Mat. He's not mentioned much about treasure before, and really he doesn't care too much about shinies afterward - he likes getting treasure obviously but it's not much of a motivation. What's his deal with this? Is Shadar Logoth itself pulling on him a little, unable to touch Rand and Perrin because of their latent supernatural abilities? He neglects the horses immediately, which is weird for the son of a horse trader.

Maybe it's just the love of looting just something that gets burned out of him with other memories? Did the mere mention of the ruby dagger as Min's viewing prime him to see himself as a treasure hunter?

“Who are you?” Rand thought the man’s accent sounded odd, even after Baerlon; some words he pronounced strangely, so Rand could barely understand them. “What are you doing here? We thought the city was empty.”

I've mentioned it before, but this is more evidence that whatever tongue Rand is actually speaking is actually much closer to the Old Tongue than English, since Mordeth's speech - from an era when the Old Tongue was still in use - is still intelligible, just really weird. Also, Mordeth's unfamiliarity with Caemlyn is a hint of when he's from as well.

“I told you there must be treasure in a place like this,” Mat exclaimed. He darted up the stairs. “We’ll help you carry it. Just take us to it.” He and Mordeth moved deeper into the shadows among the columns. Rand looked at Perrin. “We can’t leave him.” Perrin glanced at the sinking sun, and nodded.

Whatever the reason, Rand and Perrin are definitely not taking the bait. They only care about this because of Mat, not any hope of riches themselves.

Suddenly Rand realized what had been nagging at him about the man. The scattered torches in the hallway had given each of them a ring of shadows, just as the torches in the treasure room did. Only. . . . He was so shocked he said it out loud. “You don’t have a shadow.”

So this chapter firmly establishes that Rand is the smartest one out of the trio, being the last to want to come here and the only one to realize that they've stumbled into a hellscape.

Mat peered around the side of a treasure pile, clutching a dagger snatched from the trove.

Thanks for telling him to look for it, Min. You done fucked him up, didn't even talk to him, and in the Last Battle you're going to have the audacity to treat him like an old friend.

Mat just gestured to all the gold and jewels. Before he could say anything, though, Rand seized one of his arms and Perrin grabbed the other. They hustled him out of the room, Mat struggling and shouting about the treasure.

This whole thing really needed either some stronger foreshadowing of Mat's greed or something because again even knowing he's kind of the doofus of the group, this just comes out of nowhere.

The watchers followed them. Or else there were lots of watchers, lots of eyes staring out of almost every building. Rand could not see anything move, hard as he tried, but he could feel the eyes, eager, hungry. He did not know which would be worse. Thousands of eyes, or just a few, following them.

Do the others feel it too, or is this some twist of Rand's Shadow-sense, what with Shadar Logoth being so close to the Shadow even in its opposition?

Everyone except Lan was there, gathered around the flames, and their reactions varied considerably. Egwene, warming her hands at the fire, gave a start as the three burst into the room, clutching her hands to her throat; when she saw who it was, a relieved sigh spoiled her attempt at a withering look.

Aww, Egwene really does care. Odd place to grab herself though.

Everyone began in a different place. Mat started with finding the treasure, sounding almost as if he had done it alone, while Perrin began explaining why they had gone off in the first place without telling anyone. Rand jumped right to what he thought was important, meeting the stranger among the columns. But they were all so excited that nobody told anything in the order it happened; whenever one of them thought of something, he blurted it out with no regard for what came before or after, or for who was saying what. The watchers. They all babbled about the watchers.

This is why the three of them needed to be separated as quickly as possible, because Jordan knew that no matter how much the three of them grew as people, this is exactly how all their attempts to explain themselves would go.

“Apparently you did not think at all,” she said, coolly composed once more. “Anyone who thinks would be wary of a place that Trollocs are afraid to enter.” “Mat’s doing,” Nynaeve said, certainty in her voice. “He’s always talking some mischief or other, and the others lose the little wits they were born with when they’re around him.”

Places Moiraine thinks you should be wary of:

Shadar Logoth

The Aiel Waste

Tar Valon

The beach

Indoor swimming pools

Just saying Moiraine, you really shouldn't have counted on this being a logical connection even if the boys weren't... well, Nynaeve says it best.

“Mordeth alone was not consumed by Mashadar, but he was snared by it, and he, too, has waited within these walls through the long centuries. Others have seen him. Some he has influenced through gifts that twist the mind and taint the spirit, the taint waxing and waning until it rules . . . or kills. If ever he convinces someone to accompany him to the walls, to the boundary of Mashadar’s power, he will be able to consume the soul of that person. Mordeth will leave, wearing the body of the one he worse than killed, to wreak his evil on the world again.”

It's a mystery we'll never know the answer to, but I am dying to know exactly what kind of horrible things Mordeth did to become this. Did Aridhol have a stash of ter'angreal lying around that let him preserve his abhorrent will in the worst way possible? Was there some ancient evil from the end of the Age of Legends that combined with him to become so much worse? Like Fain who he'll infect, did he simply sidestep the Pattern somehow? Is that last concept really extra bullshit and stupid? I can't answer the first three questions, but the last one is a firm "yep".

Besides, I would know the minute of his death and the way of it, just as he would know mine.

I dunno Moiraine, I hear getting distracted with desk work can prevent an Aes Sedai from noticing the death of her Warder, especially if it's a political assassination leading to a coup. Be careful not to start filling out any paperwork or Lan could be gone before you know it!

He had no idea what had awakened him from his unpleasant dream. He had been a little boy again, carrying Tam’s sword and with a cradle strapped to his back, running through empty streets, pursued by Mordeth, who shouted that he only wanted his hand. And there had been an old man who watched them and cackled with mad laughter the whole time.

Regular stress dream, or Ba'alzamon again?

“Only this,” Lan said slowly. “The Myrddraal forced the Trollocs into the city. What forced the Myrddraal?”

He's definitely in the neighborhood, at least.

“Get to your horses,” Moiraine said. “We are not across the river yet.”

Moiraine is definitely trying to keep the plan (now discussed where the reader could see it) from being guaranteed to fail by upping the tension. Sadly, she's failed, though amusingly she did discuss the possibility of hailing a trader's boat. Regardless, this is the end of the chapter. Thanks for reading!

[lindszeppelin]

i have some things to say about all the insane asks ur getting lol

i’m not gonna be sharing my full opinion on this bc i don’t really feel like it matters and tbh i’m not that educated in the details or people bc i stay out of shit so i’m not trying to stir any pots in that sense, BUT i have issues with some of the things that were brought up

1- i agree that gossip is typically inherently toxic and that it can 100% be triggering or upsetting for people, i don’t understand how anyone could not see that ? lol

2- and mainly the one that annoyed me the most - i find it really fucking annoying & rude & just ?????????????? idk so fucking weird that people would come on here bringing up your age & about how you’re “obsessed with someone you don’t know” i think it’s really easy to forget that we are people with FAN ACCOUNTS (or mainly fan content accounts) ………. like let’s take a moment to absorb that shall we lol

at the end of the day it’s all fucking stupid and regardless of follower count or blog size we are still adults engaging in a fandom … it’s not that deep and ????? age doesn’t mean anything ???? i don’t understand why that’s even brought up, there are lil old men who run star trek fan clubs lol or lil old ladies who are still in love with elvis (or any other celebrity)

life is so short and for me personally this fandom brings me a lot of joy, being a fan brings me a lot of joy and sense of community, why are those things isolated to only people under a certain age? i don’t get it

i’m sure those people sending those anons are (hopefully) adults as well and if they’re not then they shouldn’t be engaging with blogs and content that are 18+ (obviously) and are also invested in someone that doesn’t know they exist ???????????????????¿¿ lol so i’m confused at the double standard

EVEN IF it’s someone under 18 - you are also invested enough in someone who doesn’t know you exist, enough to care about their gossip …………. like you’re still a regular person obsessed with a celebrity ?????????????? it’s all the same lol i don’t fucking understand ?????

oh yes and

3- regardless of context, if someone is sharing people’s stories of being (harassed/bullied/hurt/etc) by somebody else……………. i don’t understand how that’s bashing someone?

-🍉💓 xx

ANON BABY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH <3

this was well said and well spoken

i send you my kisses

[tropicalrpg]

twenty nine what am i doing here! is this prose? is this speech

good god. you know a crush is bad when he's got you reviving your failed project of a sideblog. you know a crush is bad when he's got you running across genres—when you revived your lonely love playlist—when you're writing good short stories in the dark—when you see reality and hope blur just a little—when you can compile all the poems you wrote for him into a decent little book—when the time together is good. that's the worst part.

you know a crush is bad when you can't manage to convince yourself, despite all the signs pointing that direction, that things aren't happening for a reason—and that that reason might be you. he's not tweeting more because you follow him. he didn't post that story (and he's not wearing those socks) because of you. that poem is not about you, and that poem you wrote about his not being about you is not good enough to get published (but there's no harm in trying, it does feel mostly in line with the one you got published). his bashful laughter is just the way he is, and you don't know because you don't know him. he doesn't mind having lunch with you, and just you, because you're friends and he enjoys being around you. he waits for people to pass because he knows you better than them, not because he wanted to talk to you specifically. he texts you first because he doesn't know you'd never forget—and he doesn't know you would spend whole days with him if he wanted to, too.

don't forget, idiot. don't forget all of your friends knowing him first, and all of them knowing the very same thing—his words in their dms. his short stories, the ones downloaded on your phone in quite the shitty move from you, were obtained from your hot friend's bad habits. all your hot friends and all of his replies to their dms. all your hot friends and the fact that they didn't want him and the fact that he's still out of your league. the way he barely looked at you, barely talked to you last year—the fact that you are factually a lot hotter now doesn't really matter, not really. don't forget his being in love. don't forget her laughter—don't forget fragment thirty-one—don't forget his outstretched hand and his insistence. don't forget the fact that you're the one stepping out into the sun even though he doesn't give a shit about getting burnt.

it's good, of course, it's great that he's got you writing. even if the stream-of-consciousness non-fiction prose is garbage, he's got you writing. the short story (you've not reread it yet, but you like some of your phrasing) is not half bad. the poems are decent—you're quite proud of the one he read. you're proud of, at least in your opinion, not having your thoughts as out there as they used to be. you're a little more discreet, even if just a smidge. you just want to want. if that poem (that you mustn't forget is not about you) were about you, it would, in your opinion, be quite evident. but there's no way it is. he doesn't want to touch you. don't forget he doesn't want to touch you. don't forget the way he smiles. don't forget the outstretched hand. don't forget her letterboxd user. don't forget his football jersey. don't forget his tag-along friend, don't forget his little brother. don't forget the poetress in his instagram stories.

stop listening to that fucking playlist, even if you don't want to. don't let yourself watch those lovely romance movies, you're just digging your own grave. don't think the concerts mean anything but having somewhat of a compatible music taste, even if a little of what you're doing is lying. let yourself go. free yourself from the need to please him just because he so effortlessly seems to fit into you. you don't know if he's perfect for you. the stupid standards you're setting aren't what actually needs to be met—let someone want you first, and want them second. learn what you're worth. try to be worth something.

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