#because it forces us to look at real world attitudes?

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (06)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 5.3k

Aliyah's Notes: after the calamity of ch5 i present u ch6.... enjoy it. or not. AND IM SORRY FOR THE ENDING 🔥😩😅😨

It's been days. Or weeks? You didn’t even know anymore. The calendar on your phone kept reminding you, but you stopped counting. Maybe if you ignored the world long enough, it’ll forget you existed. Maybe if you stayed in this apartment, you could disappear into these four walls like you were never here in the first place.

Numbers. You used to count them, obsess over them, keep track of every passing hour. But now, time feels... irrelevant. What’s the point of knowing how long you’ve been sinking when no one’s coming to pull you out?

The silence feels... safe. No one to judge you. No one to see the mess you’ve become. It’s funny, though��people always see what they want to see. The headlines called you a goddess, an untouchable force of beauty and success. But what would they say if they knew the truth? That the girl in their glossy magazines could barely stand to look at herself anymore.

You hated this. The lying, the pretending. Nina thought you were just going through a rough patch, but she didn’t know how deep the cracks went. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be this anymore—broken, fragile, teetering on the edge again. You swore you’d never come back to this place. But it’s funny how easy it is to fall back into old habits, how fast the darkness creeps in when no one’s watching.

No one’s watching.

Maybe that’s for the best. Let them keep seeing the version of you they wanted to see—the confident supermodel, the girl who had it all. Let them believe the lie, because the truth? The truth was ugly. The truth was you’ve been staring at your phone for days, hoping—no, needing—for a message, for something from him.

But nothing.

He was in Missouri. Working, you guessed. You didn’t even know when he was coming back. He didn’t say. 

You hated him for that. But you hated yourself more for caring. For letting him in, even when you knew better. For thinking, for just one second, that maybe—just maybe—there was something real between you, beneath all the lies you told the world.

But none of it was real. Not the dating, not the smiles, not the person they thought you were. You were a fraud. A perfect, golden fraud wrapped up in designer clothes and empty promises. And the worst part was, you were too tired to fight it anymore. Maybe this was who you were now. A girl who hid in her apartment, waiting for the world to forget she existed.

Or maybe it already happened.

The sound of the door creaking open started you, pulling you out of the spiral you’ve been sinking into. You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. No one else had the key to your apartment beside her.

“Are you kidding me, Y/N?” Nina’s voice cut through the heavy silence like a knife. “This is the third time this week. How long do you think you can keep doing this?”

You didn’t respond.

Nina stromed in, slamming the door behind her, and you heard her heels clacking on the floor as she made her way to the living room. “You’re not answering your phone. You’re not responding to emails. You missed three shoots! People are asking questions, Y/N. What do you think I’m supposed to tell them?”

You stayed silent, curling deeper into the couch. Maybe if you didn’t look at her, she’ll go away. Maybe she’ll finally get the hint that you didn’t want to be saved.

But Nina wasn’t the type to back off. “No,” she snapped. “You don’t get to ignore me, not today. You need to get up. You need to fix this, Y/N. You think you can just hide away forever? Is that the plan? Because let me tell you, honey, the world won’t wait for you to get your shit together.”

She stood in front of you now, hands on her hips, glaring down at you like a disappointed mother. Her usually immaculate hair was slightly disheveled, and you could tell by the tension in her jaw that she’s been worrying. 

“Talk to me, honey,” she said, her voice lower now. “This isn’t you. You don’t just disappear like this. What happened? Is it Rafe? Is it work? Are you back to…” her voice trailed off, but the question hanged in the air, heavy and unspoken. 

You couldn’t look at her. The shame curled in your chest, making in hard to breathe. She didn’t know. She didn’t know how badly you’ve relapsed, how badly everything felt like it was slipping out of control again. And you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Not to her. Not to anyone.

“When’s the last time you even showered? Eaten something decent? Your career’s on the line. Everything we’ve worked for is on the line. You can’t just… give up like this.”

Her words hit like slaps, each one stinging, but you still didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Nina huffed, pacing now, her frustration spilling over. “I don’t know what happened between you and Rafe, and honestly, I don’t care. But whatever it is, you don’t get to throw your life away because of it. You’re stronger than this, Y/N. I know you are. So why the hell are you letting this break you?”

You flinched at the word “break.” Because that’s what it feels like. Like you’re already broken, shattered into a million pieces, and you didn’t even know how to start putting yourself back together.

Nina crouched down in front of you, her voice softening, her eyes searching yours. “Talk to me, honey. Please. Tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

For a moment, you almost did. You almost told her everything—the text, the relapse, the endless void you’ve been sinking into. But the words caught in your throat, choking you. What’s the point in talking when nothing will change?

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m fine.”

Nina’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You’re not fine. You’re far from it. You think I haven’t seen you like this before? You’re not fooling anyone, Y/N.”

She stood, her frustration bubbling back to the surface. “You need to snap out of it. Because in five days, you’re getting engaged to Rafe Cameron, whether you like it or not. And a week after that, you’re walking down the aisle. You can’t afford to fall apart now.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you like a lead blanket. The engagement. The wedding. The lies. It all felt so suffocating, so inevitable.

Nina crossed her arms, her voice firm. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get up, you’re going to shower, and you’re going to pull yourself together. Because tomorrow, you’ve got a charity event with Rafe, and you’re going to smile for the cameras and make everyone believe that you’re still that perfect, golden girl they love.”

You wanted to scream at her, tell her you couldn't do it, that you didn't even know how to pretend anymore. But instead, you nodded numbly, sinking deeper into the fog that had settled over your mind.

Nina sighed, her voice softening again as she headed toward the door. "I'll be back tomorrow morning. And I swear, Y/N, if you're still in this state when I get here, I will personally drag you to that charity event."

The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving you alone with the weight of everything she'd just said.

You hadn’t slept. Not really. Just laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how you were supposed to pretend like everything was fine when every part of you was falling apart. You could still hear Nina’s voice in your head, telling you to pull yourself together, to be the golden girl everyone expected you to be. 

You dragged yourself out of bed, your body heavy. Your legs felt weak, and your mind feltl worse. Everything was numb, but somehow you still felt the pain. You stumbled into the bathroom, turning the water on without thinking. The cold spray hit your skin like tiny needes, and you stood there for a while, trying to let the string wake you up. But it didn’t work—you were still in that fog.

When you finally stepped out of the shower, you didn’t even bother looking in the mirror. It didn’t matter. You grabbed the first thing you saw—a plain black sweater, loose and oversized, and a pair of jeans that didn’t quite fit right anymore. You didn’t even try with your hair, just pulled it back into a bun. No makeup. What was the point? It wasn’t like anyone cared what you looked like today.

When you got to the office, the tension hit you the moment you walked through the door. Your stomach twisted as you made your way down the hallway, each step heavier than the last. You could feel your pulse in your throat, your chest tightening with every breath. You shouldn’t have cared. You shouldn’t. But as you pushed open the door to the conference room and saw him sitting there—Rafe, looking like he hadn’t been bothered by a single thing—you felt the anger bubbling up, hot and sharp.

It started as a familiar ache that had been building ever since the night he walked out of your apartment without a word. Two weeks. Fourteen days of silence. Fourteen nights spent waiting for a text that never came, hoping for even the smallest explanation, something to make sense of the hollow space he’d left behind.

Day 1. Monday, 2:42 AM

You: “Hey. Are you home? LMK, just to be safe.”

Day 2. Tuesday, 8:18 AM

You: “I’m still so confused about what happened last night, but let’s talk when you have a minute.”

Day 3. Wednesday, 5.32 PM

You: “Look, if you’re mad at me, just say it! I thought we were good, what the hell?”

Day 4. Friday, 11:04 PM

You: “It’s been days and I still don’t understand why you left like this.”

Day 5. Sunday, 3:27 PM

You: “Fuck you. I don't know why I keep texting. I know you’re seeing my texts, even though I’m on delivered. Just tell me if you’re done with this.”

Day 5. Sunday, 10:41 PM

You: “Why am I acting like I’m the one who fucked up? I didn’t do anything wrong. You left me like I was nothing, and your only explanation was a shitty rom-com excuse. I thought we were friends, Rafe.”

Day 5: Sunday, 11:36 PM

You: “I hope you rot in your shit ass apartment, but trust that I will show up to one of your stupid games with a sign that says “Small Dick Ghoster” in big, glittery letters. And I hope Chiara will hug you so hard that she’ll end up strangling you to death. Fuck you, again!”

And there he was, sitting there like none of it had happened, like you were still just strangers playing a game. His posture relaxed, that effortless confidence radiating from him, his gaze fixed on the papers in front of him, completely indifferent.

It infuriated you—the ease with which he moved on, the way he could look so composed, so completely unbothered, as if he hadn’t abandoned you in that moment when you were raw and vulnerable. Like it meant nothing. Like you meant nothing.

Every part of you screamed to confront him, to demand an explanation for the silence, the absence, the complete disregard. You could feel the hurt clawing up from your chest, tangling with the anger that burned hotter with each passing second. He was so close, but somehow, he felt miles away.

So instead, you steeled yourself, locking down the hurt, burying it beneath the anger that simmered just beneath the surface. You wouldn’t let him see the effect he had on you, wouldn’t give him the power to know just how much his absence had shattered you. No—he would get nothing from you. Not a word, not a glance, not a single sign of the turmoil raging inside you.

You walked past him without a word, each step heavy with the weight of the anger you swallowed down. Let him sit there, pretending like nothing was wrong. Let him think he could ignore you, dismiss you, erase you from his life without consequence. Because you would make sure he felt every bit of the coldness he had left you with, every ounce of the hurt he’d carved into you.

Ignoring him was the only power you had left, the only way to keep the anger from spilling over, from breaking you down entirely. And if he thought he could continue on as if the past two weeks hadn’t happened, then he was going to learn just how wrong he was.

Nicolas cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over the room. “Hi, you two—we’ve got a lot to go over, and the timeline is tight. The engagement is in five days, and the wedding is scheduled for a week after that. So we need to finalize the details today—food, decorations, dresses, the guest list…”

You couldn’t focus. The words blurred together a dull hum in the background as you stared down at the table. Rafe said something, his voice casual, but you tuned it out. You didn’t want to hear him.

Sabrina spoke next, her tone brighter, more enthusiastic. “The audience is really enjoying you together, by the way. Ever since your date, and especially after the pictures from Kelce’s party where you two were cuddled up? People are in love with the idea of you and Rafe together. So, good job, guys.”

Your stomach churned at her words. Cuddled up. Like you were some happy couple.

“And tomorrow,” she continued. “You’ll need to make another public appearance together. It’s a charity event for cancer awareness. A perfect opportunity for more good press. The public is expecting you two to show up as the perfect couple—affectionate, in love, all of that.”

In love.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood. This was the part where you were supposed to smile and nod, agree to hold his hand and play the role of the devoted future fiancée. But all you felt was the tension building, the weight of the lie pressing down on you until it was suffocating.

Rafe shifted in his seat, and you could feel his eyes on you, but you still didn’t look at him. Rafe felt an uneasy twist in his stomach. You looked… different. Disheveled, almost. Your sweater hung losely over your shoulders, practically swallowing your frame, and he could see dark shadows under your eyes that hadn’t been there before. You seemed smaller somehow, your usual energy muted, replaced by something tense and fragile.

Rafe’s gaze dropped to your hands, noticing how your fingers fidgeted restlessly, twisting and tugging at your sleeves. Your leg was bouncing under the table, tapping out an anxious rhythm that only he seemed to notice. Every small movement, every nervous habit—you looked like you were holding yourself back, like there was something simmering beneath the surface, ready to break free.

You still hadn’t looked at him, hadn’t given him a single glance, and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. You’d been messaging him, and he’d been… well, avoiding it, convincing himself it was for the best. But seeing you now, seeing the wear and tear he’d left behind, he couldn’t shake the guilt.

Rafe’s chest tightened. He’d expected you to be angry, maybe annoyed. But this? You looked worn down, frayed at the edges, like you've been carrying a weight no one else could see.

You didn’t remember most of the details they were talking about. Your mind drifted in and out of focus as they went on about the guest list, the food, the decorations. All you heard were words—dresses, flowers, venues. None of it felt real. It was as if you were watching someone else’s life unfold in front of you, just sitting there, an outsider in your own story.

“The wedding will be televised, of course,” Sabrina says, flipping through her notes, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of it all. “And with a full press presence. We want every detail to reflect both of your public personas. Elegant, grand, but also with an intimate, personal feel—something that tells a story about who you both are.”

Who we were. I almost laughed at the irony. I didn't even know who I was right now, much less who we were.

“We were thinking of something grand but elegant. A modern luxury wedding. White roses, lots of gold accents. Maybe something at the estate in the Hamptons?”

You glanced at the board, at all the glossy, pristine images of weddings that could belong to anyone. None of them felt like you.

“Do you have any preferences?” Sabrina asked, smiling like this is the most exciting conversation in the world. “Colors, themes, anything that’s important to you?”

"Actually," you finally broke your silence, your voice coming out quietly, but the words landing heavily in the room. "I’d like the ceremony to reflect... my background." You could feel Rafe's eyes on you again, but for once, you didn’t care. This wasn’t about him.

Sabrina blinked, taken aback, but she quickly nodded, jotting down notes as if she were open to whatever you had in mind. "Of course, that could be beautiful. Were you thinking about specific details?"

You hesitated for a moment, uncertain if they’d take you seriously, but you pressed on. "Yes. The colors… the decorations. I want there to be vibrant colors—not just whites and pastels, but deep greens, maroons, and gold. The way we’d have them back home. And for the flowers… jasmine and roses. That’s what we use for weddings where I’m from. I want it to feel like... like part of my heritage."

Nicolas raised an eyebrow, as if he hadn’t expected you to care about any of this. But he just nodded, his pen moving across his notepad. "We can definitely arrange that. A traditional, multicultural theme would add a unique touch to the event, I think. It’ll definitely resonate with the press and the viewers."

You didn’t care if it resonated. It wasn’t for them—it was for you, a sliver of authenticity in this whole farce.

Then Sabrina’s voice broke into your thoughts. "And of course, the dress. Have you given any thought to what you want? Or would you like us to arrange for a stylist to go over options with you?"

Your heart twisted at the mention of the dress. The one thing you’d always imagined as a girl—the dress you’d wear at your own wedding. Only, you’d never thought it would be for this.

"I’d like to include some of my culture there too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe... a fusion. Something elegant and modern but with hints of traditional South Asian bridal elements. Like embroidery or... beadwork. Maybe even henna if it wouldn’t look out of place."

Sabrina seemed to light up at the idea. "That would be stunning. We can definitely work with that! I know several designers who specialize in fusing traditional and contemporary styles."

She was still talking, but the air around you felt thicker, as though the room was closing in. You could sense Rafe’s gaze without even looking at him, the weight of his silence pressing into you.

You zoned out again, your mind wandering back to the last wedding you attended. The colors, the music, the way the bride’s lehenga shimmered under the sun as she walked down the aisle. You’d always thought your wedding would be like that—full of life and celebration, surrounded by people who loved you.

Instead, you were planning a wedding for the cameras, for people who didn’t know you.

The sudden, sharp knock on the door cut through the stillness like a jolt of cold water. Your head shot up from the pillow, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, the world felt like it was still. The quiet of your apartment, the thick fog still clouding your thoughts. You didn’t want to get up. You didn’t want to face the world outside of this bed, this cocoon of emptiness you’d wrapped yourself in for days.

Another knock, this one louder, more demanding.

“Y/N!” Nina’s voice came through the door, sharp and impatient. “You better not still be in bed, because I swear—”

The door swung open before you could even make a sound, Nina storming in, wearing the same determined, unbothered expression she always had when she was on a mission. You tried to bury your face back into the pillow, but she wasn’t having it. Her hand reached down, grabbing the covers and yanking them off with force. You shivered as the cold air hit your skin, the warmth of the blankets yanked away along with any shred of comfort you’d been clinging to.

“Get up.” Nina wasn’t asking. She was commanding. “You’ve got a charity event today, and Rafe is already at the venue. We don’t have time for your pity party.”

You squinted at her, still half-wrapped in your sheets like a burrito, and mumbled from underneath the pillow, “Can’t you just… I don’t know… handle it for me? Go in my place. You’d look great in a gown.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I’d look amazing, but you and I both know I don’t have that kind of charisma.”

“True,” you admitted, peeking out from under the pillow. 

Nina raised her hands in mock surrender. “Exactly. Now, up. I’m not playing with you today.”

Before you could even protest, she yanked the covers off you with a dramatic flourish, leaving you to shiver in nothing but your oversized T-shirt. It was a miracle you didn’t roll off the bed in the process.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.” Nina didn’t wait for you to even get a grip on reality before heading straight for your closet, rummaging through your clothes like she was on a mission. “You’re going to look so good today that Rafe might just start thinking you actually like him.”

You shot her a glare that could’ve frozen water, but she just smirked, tossing a black dress onto the bed like she was some fashion fairy sent to save you from yourself.

“I’m not going,” you said flatly.

“Oh, yes, you are.” Nina threw a matching pair of heels onto the bed with the same casual flick of the wrist she used to dismiss your protests. “Because you will look stunning, and you will show up.”

You sat up slowly, rubbing your face. “What is it with you people? Why does everyone keep trying to drag me out of bed? It’s like I’m the world’s most reluctant celebrity.”

“Because you are.” Nina grinned, holding up your dress like she was presenting the Holy Grail. “But, hey, guess what? You’re really good at it. So stop sulking and get your glam on. You’re the star of the show today.”

You let out a theatrical sigh. “Oh, joy.”

Nina didn’t even flinch. “I’m not asking for a performance. Just put on the damn dress and show up. You can pretend to be miserable, and I’ll pretend I’m not a miracle worker for getting you out of here.”

You hesitated for just a moment, then dragged yourself out of bed with a grunt. “Fine.”

“Oh, by the way, Aisha’s going to be there. She practically begged me to make sure you show.”

Your eyes snapped open. Aisha Patel. Your best friend and, quite honestly, the only person in your life who could drag you out of bed with a single text. She’s been your best friend since you’d arrived in the States. She’d been away for five months—longer than ever before—working on some high-profile project in Switzerland. You hadn’t seen her in ages.

“You’re kidding,” you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “Aisha’s coming?”

Nina smiled smugly. “Yep. She’s flown back for the event. Can you imagine the drama if you don’t show up? She’ll never let you live it down.”

You sighed, a smile tugging at your lips. “God, I missed her.”

“Me too,” Nina said, her voice softening for just a second. “But you still have to get up. Like now.”

You looked at the dress Nina had already picked out, a sleek white gown that somehow made you feel both glamorous and like you were about to attend a royal gala. “Fine. I’m up. I’m dressed.”

Nina, who was already rummaging through your closet like a pro, grinned. “You look absolutely beautiful, honey,” she noticed your weight loss but decided to not speak on it, in fear it’ll make you relapse… if only she knew. “Chiara’s also going to be there...”

You froze, the mention of Chiara Romano sending a cold shiver down your spine. You’d told Nina everything about the Chiara encounter—her subtle digs, the way she made you feel like you were just another passing phase in Rafe’s life. She’d made things uncomfortable enough at Kelce’s party, and now you had to face her again?

“What? Fucking why?”

“Her father’s the one running the whole damn event,” she explained. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of her or her family because they’re pretty famous, especially in the entertainment and events world. So, get ready for a day full of small talk, fake smiles, and people who will pry into your private life.”

You sighed. “How perfect is that?”

You stood in front of the mirror, trying to shake off the heavy weight of everything swirling in your head. You glanced at the clock. You were running out of time.

You reached for your hair tie, pulling it through your tangled locks. Your hair had grown longer than you remembered, and you decided to tie it up in a messy, yet elegant bun—one that would allow a few soft, curly strands to escape and frame your face. It was casual but chic—classic you. You let a few strands fall loosely, giving the bun a less formal, more effortless vibe. After a moment of satisfaction, you moved on to the makeup.

A soft, dewy glow covered your skin, nothing too dramatic. You didn’t want to feel caked in layers today, just enough to enhance your features. You applied a touch of blush to your cheeks, just a hint, to keep the look fresh. A thin line of mascara lengthened your lashes, and your signature lip combo was the finishing touch. Simple. Comfortable.

As you turned to check yourself one last time, you heard Nina's voice from the other room.

“Y/N! We need to go now. Rafe's texting me and he’s getting antsy. He’s apparently already at the event!”

You sighed, feeling the familiar rush of anxiety settle into your stomach. The mirror reflected a version of you that was ready for the world, but the world, especially tonight, wasn’t ready for this version of you. But as the pressure of the event built up, you couldn’t deny the uncertainty gnawing at you.

When you made your way into the living room, Nina was pacing, her phone glued to her ear. She shot you a quick, approving glance. “Looking good. Let’s go.”

As you grabbed your clutch, ready to face whatever tonight had in store, the doorbell rang. Your heart skipped a beat. Was it Aisha? Maybe she’d arrived early, wanting to meet up before the event?

But when you opened the door, your breath caught.

Standing in the doorway wasn’t Aisha.

It was Rafe.

He was in a suit—sharp, looking like he belonged in a magazine ad for high-end fashion—but his eyes, dark and intense, held something more than just a desire to impress. He had the look of a man who knew he had messed up.

His words hit you before you could even process them. “You look stunning. I wanted to make sure you’re okay... before all this.” The sincerity in his voice made your heart thump a little faster, and you hated yourself for it.

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stood there, blinking at him. You hadn’t expected him to show up—especially not with that kind of intensity in his eyes.

You exhaled slowly, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest, your posture defensive. The audacity of this guy.

“Really?” You scoffed, trying to mask the vulnerability creeping up your spine with sharp sarcasm. “Now you care?”

Rafe seemed to falter at that, but he quickly recovered, taking a small step closer, but not enough to make you feel cornered. “I’ve always cared, Y/N. You know that.” His voice was quieter this time, and the sincerity in his eyes almost made your resolve crack.

“Do I?” you shot back, stepping out of the doorway and giving him a once-over, your gaze icy. “Because you sure had a funny way of showing it.”

Rafe winced, a flash of guilt flickering in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. “I messed up, okay? I should’ve reached out. I didn’t know what to say, but I should’ve just... shown up.”

You rolled your eyes, the anger simmering beneath your skin rising again. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, not from the sight of him, but from the frustration that had been building over the past two weeks. “You didn’t know what to say? You think showing up fixes two weeks of silence? Just like that?”

He took a step forward, his face tightening, as though he was bracing himself for a confrontation. "I wasn’t sure what to do," he said, his voice lowering. "I thought... maybe you needed space. I thought if I gave you time, it would be better." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his expression. “I was trying to do the right thing.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the audacity of his words settling like a lump in your throat. “Space?” you asked, your voice low, incredulous. “You thought ghosting me for two weeks would give me space?” 

Rafe’s face twisted in guilt, but it didn’t matter. You weren’t going to let him off the hook.

“Did you at least see my texts?” you demanded, anger rising in your throat.

"Y/N, you’re needed at the car right now!" Nina called, stopping Rafe in his tracks of answering. Before you could walk away, Rafe reached out, his hand closing around your wrist, pulling you back gently.

"Wait," he murmured, his thumb brushing your skin.

You stared up at Rafe, your breath caught in your throat, uncertainty swirling in your chest. The air between you two felt charged, a thousand unspoken questions hanging in the balance. Your pulse was racing, but before you could voice any of them, Nina practically shoved you both into the elevator. Her hand pressed the button for the ground floor as she threw your heels at you, the sharp click of the stilettos punctuating the tension.

You caught them on instinct. The elevator descended, and your mind was still spiraling, trying to piece together what the hell was happening. What the fuck—this distance between you and Rafe? 

But just as the elevator doors opened, the sound of a familiar car door slamming outside caught your attention. A quiet thud, followed by the sound of heels clicking against pavement. Your instincts were on alert, an uneasy feeling crawling under your skin.

And when you turned to look, you saw someone stepping out of the car.

Someone who shouldn’t be here.

“I was wondering when we’d get the chance to catch up.”

chapter seven

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Spellbook Swap

I've always wondered how couples stay together so long. My husband, Derek, and I had been married for 3 years now and while we get along great and support each other through everything, the sex had been pretty stale for awhile. Half the time he's not really in the mood and when he is, we usually just jerk off next to each other. I was getting tired of it and craved something more. But Derek was still so cute, him being a socially awkward nerd, and I was scared to tell him how I feel because he might cry.

That afternoon, I was on my way to pick him up from work. We only had one car, but since both our jobs typically had the same shift, I always headed over to pick him up at his job at the library. I didn't actually have work today so I went a little earlier to look at some books. When I arrived, Derek noticed me and smiled real big.

“Hey! You're early!”

“Yeah, thought I'd browse a bit.”

“Ah ok. I just organized it all so you get to see my work!” He smiled again and continued helping customers in line.

I browsed through my favorite genre - fantasy. I always loved ones that involved magic, spells, and amazing worlds. I noticed one book that kinda stuck out a bit amongst the shelf. It was some kind of spellbook with a brown leather cover, and had a bit of dust on it, which seemed strange because the rest of the shelf was perfectly clean. I opened it up and found that it was indeed a spellbook. I wasn't the most superstitious person ever, but I did believe there was some kind of magical force out there that could do incredible things.

I flipped through the table of contents and noticed there was a category called “relationships”. I turned the pages to the section and saw a bunch of spells - ones to make someone fall in love with you, ones to get promoted at work, ones to impress your family, things like that. I was about to close the book when I found one page - how to spice up your sex life. That was just what I needed! Even if it didn't work, it couldn't hurt to try.

I walked over to the counter right as another guy started talking to Derek. He was a real muscular guy wearing a white shirt and tan hat. His pants left absolutely nothing to the imagination with the way they were tight fitting around his ass. A mustache covered his thick face, which complemented his bright green eyes. He was carrying a tote bag.

“Hey can I help you?” He greeted the man with an eager attitude. “Need a book recommendation or anything?”

“Oh no I don't read.” The man spoke with a deep manly voice. “I mean, who has time to when you could be working out?” I could see the rare irritated look on Derek's face.

“Then…what do you need from the library?” He replied, much less eager than before.

“Just dropping off some books for the wife. We're going on vacation and they’re due tomorrow.” He took a couple books out of the tote bag.

“Allright. I can take them.” The man handed him the books and immediately turned around and left. Derek's smile returned when he saw me with a book in my hand.

“Hey! What'd you get?”

“It's a book of spells.”

“Of spells? Like real ones?”

“No way,” I laughed. “Just some dumb thing. Looks fun to read though.”

“Allright. Gotcha.” He checked me out and I sat down, waiting for him to finish the rest of the closing.

That evening after dinner I tried to seduce him but he wasn't having it once again.

“Sorry, work has me so exhausted you know?” I wish that I wanted to, but…well I just don't want to. Sorry.” I stood there defeated.

“Ok.” I let out an emotionless reply. As Derek brushed his teeth and got ready to head into bed, I flipped through the pages of the spellbook. I found the “spice up your sex life” spell and read the instructions. I needed to recite the incantation while looking at a picture of the two of us. I took out my phone, and scrolled through my gallery until I found the perfect picture. Then I started to recite the spell. Nothing happened. I tried again. Still nothing. At that point I was mad at him and now mad at the spellbook for wasting my time, so I headed into the bedroom. There I found Derek waiting for me.

“Hey…look I'm sorry. How about tomorrow morning we have some fun? I promise I'll go through with it!” Maybe the spell did work afterall! We both had a day off tomorrow so that was perfect. I was so excited that I could barely sleep.

The next morning I woke up to Derek nudging me awake. Excitedly, I turned over. But to my surprise, it wasn't him smiling at me, but a hairy guy with a mustache. He was giving me a sexy smile.

“Hey…you ready?” He gave me a look of uncertainty and cleared his throat. I didn't even know what to say but I was so confused that there was total stranger in my bed, so I had to say something.

“Who are…you?” He frowned beneath his mustache.

“What do you mean? Oh no, am I having an allergic reaction somehow? That would explain my voice and why my eyesight is blurry even with my glasses on. It's me though! My face must be so puffy…oh god."

”Holy fuck. It's Derek! But this was far beyond an allergic reaction. He's an entirely different person! He pushed the covers off and was about to get out of bed, probably to take a look at himself in the mirror, when he glanced down at his body. This was definitely not normal. He was muscular, tan, and hairy - a stark contrast to what he normally looked like. He made a terrified face, which was a strange sight on such a macho guy.

“What? What's happening? I-I…” He looked at me with worry in his eyes, and it was then that I realized WHY this was happening. It must've been the spell. I guess turning your boyfriend into a muscle hunk would definitely spice up our sex lives. But I couldn't leave him in the dark.

“I-I,” I started. “It was my fault. That spellbook I got, I used it on you. I didn't expect this though!”

It was then that I realized WHO he was. That guy we saw at the library yesterday. He somehow swapped bodies with him!

“What? What spell was it?”

“Spice up your sex life. I just…was getting bored. And you were never in the mood.”

“Oh…but it turned me into this?” He then rushed to the bathroom. I followed. He immediately recognized himself as soon as he looked into the mirror.

“Hey! I'm that guy from yesterday!? Why did it turn me into him?”

“I-I don't know! Maybe it picked someone from a recent memory?”

He gazed at himself in the mirror with an open mouth, and touched all around his face, pinching and feeling his mustache.He gazed down and admired his new muscles, feeling all around his pecs and the chest hair growing from them. He then turned around and stared at the mirror again, this time making a variety of expressions.

“What am I supposed to do? I can't stay like this!”

“I don't know! There must be something about a reverse spell in the book.” Flipping through the book, I once again found the page I needed. I read every word but didn't find anything about a reverse spell. Could he be stuck like this?

“Maybe if we see like a professional?”

“What, like a fortune teller witch lady or whatever?”

“Exactly.”

“Well. I do remember seeing something like that close to town. A psychic. Maybe they can help?”

“We could try.” I looked up fortune tellers and found Madam Cleo - Psychic. It was a short drive away. I was hoping we would find our answers there.

“I got it.”

“One problem,” Derek said doubtfully.

“What?” He stared down at himself and then answered.

“I don't think anything will fit me now…” I couldn't help but laugh out loud.“I think we can find something at least.”

We dug through the closet and eventually found the Lakers jersey that my uncle gifted me a few years back. I wasn't even into basketball and it was a few sizes too big, but at least it helped us in the end! Derek slipped it on and gazed at himself in the mirror. It fit pretty nicely.

“Not really my style…but it'll do for now.” He put his finger on his chin and then rubbed his head. He froze when he grazed the back of it.

“What’s wrong?”

“I'm…balding.” He turned around and tilted his head up to show me. He definitely had a bad case of male pattern baldness. I thought it was pretty hot, but he looked terrified.

“Hmm…well. That's something we can just fix with a hat. I walked into the bedroom, grabbed one of my hats, and put it on his head. It completed the look well.

“I guess this'll work. Maybe.” I laughed again.

“You'll be fine.”

We got to the car, Derek struggling a bit to fit in the passenger seat with his new frame, and headed over to the fortune teller. It was a warehouse-like building, although much smaller. As we were about to walk in, someone else walked out. He was a young looking guy around my age, but at least 200 lbs heavier. He looked like he made absolutely no effort to control his weight.

“Hey! That lady is awesome!” He said excitedly. “She told my fortune and said that I would lose weight very soon! I can't wait!” He then ran off, his gross looking belly jiggling up and down, and drove away.

I kinda felt bad for people like that, that actually believe that sort of thing…what am I saying? We're the ones going to a fortune teller for help. I just really hoped she was legit then.

We walked in and found that the interior was nicely decorated, completely different from the outside. Shiny wooden floors, a chandelier, and LED lights hanging from the walls. All of that surrounded a crystal ball in the center. Within a few seconds a woman dressed in a typical fortune teller outfit appeared from a curtain in the back.

“What does the future hold for you two today? Let's find out,” she said with an ominous tone to her voice.

“Actually we're not here to get our fortunes told. We need your help.”

“What do you mean? She asked, dropping the ominous tone.

“Well my husband here is a victim to a body swapping spell gone wrong.” I showed her the book, flipping to the page.

“Oh my,” she said with a concerned look on her face. “This is very powerful magic indeed.”

“But how do we reverse it?”

“I don't know for sure. But the victim should try to recite it instead.

“Victim? You mean Derek? How would that work?”

“Do not question why things are the way they are. Now go!” She said suddenly. With that, we hurried back home to recite the spell.

“Ok how do I do this now?” Derek asked.

“Just recite the spell, and focus on a picture of us.” He recited the incantation.

“Nothing happened…how was it last time?”

“Same as this time. I guess it took awhile to take effect. What should we do in the meantime?” He didn't reply, but instead stared at himself in the mirror.

“You know, now that this face actually has a brain behind it, it's actually kinda hot.” He then walked over to me and got real close. I'd never been intimidated by Derek before for obvious reasons, but this time I couldn't help but feel dominated by his brawny self.

“The spell picked this guy because you thought he was so hot didn't it? That's gotta be it.” He said with a low voice.

“Y-yeah. I admit it. He seemed dumb at the library but hey, he was a hunk.”

“And now I'm that hunk.” He started feeling all around his body again. He then glanced at his dick and began to stroke it. I knew exactly where this was going and I was all for it.

“Well then Mr. Muscle Hunk, why don't you show off that body a bit more?”

“I'd like nothing more…but I'm gonna go shower first. Who knows where this guy's been?”

“Yeah good idea. I'll be in the room.”

I was so excited! This was gonna be the hottest thing ever! I headed toward the closet to find something sexy to put on. Suddenly I felt a bit dizzy. I noticed my skin seemed to be glowing somehow. Within seconds it turned ghostly white, and then became so bright, it hurt to look at. Why was I glowing? It seemed to be just my body though, nothing was happening to my clothes. As quickly as it came, the glowing stopped and the dizziness returned. I didn't have time to see what happened, because as soon as the glow stopped I lost my balance and fell onto the nearby chair.

My clothes felt incredibly tight, but it wasn't long before I realized why. I was fat! My shirt didn't even fit over my large belly. My pants must've popped a button as my gut hung over them. I tried to get up but the weight of my gut kept pushing me backwards. How do fat guys even do this?

When I finally got up and onto my feet, I rushed to the mirror, my hanging belly flopping up and down. My face looked familiar…oh shit. I was that guy we saw at the fortune teller's! Did the spell do this? How did this happen?!

I heard the shower stop, meaning Derek was going to meet me here any minute now. I couldn't believe the hottest night of my life was about to be ruined! Why did this have to happen?

The door opened and there he was, standing there in a pair of briefs. They were always a little big on him, but with his new body, they were pretty tight. It looked like he shaved his head too. He stared at me, at first he looked shocked but then his expression changed. Was that a look of lust?

“So the spell did something to you too?”

“Yeah…look at me! I'm a mess!” I jiggled my flabby moobs to prove my point.

“Well…”

“Well?”

“It's not so bad.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean…well you know how you said I look hot like this? And that the spell probably made me like this for that reason?”

“Yeah. What are you getting at…wait.”

“Mhm.” He mumbled with a sexy smirk.

“Y-you think I'm hot like this?!" He got real close and started making out with me. It was the most intense make out session I'd ever had. The feeling of his thick mustache rubbing against my face was a sensation I would've never expected could feel so good.

“Does that answer your question?”

“Yep,” I said with a smirk.

[hamsternella]

Have you seen that anime about the elusive samurai?? Could you write something with a reader who is a hashira and acts like the protagonist? +yandere pillars and muzan/other demons🤭

[PART 1] Yandere!Hashiras (+Muzan and demons) x Elusive!Reader

cw: yandere themes, stalking, blood, gore, violence, forced relationship, mdni

SO SORRY but it doesn't allow me to put more images, so here is the link to the second part where the demons + muzan are included: HEREEEE

TIP JAR

Ubuyashiki could be a man capable of predicting the future, and thus save himself a great deal of trouble that would jeopardize the safety of his family or his company of Pillars. But all people have a breaking point—and you were, without a doubt, that point.

No one really knew when you became a Pilar. Not even Ubuyashiki himself was sure. This was because of your elusive and confusing nature; the way you seemed to totally detach yourself from everything and everyone, all the time. You were not a bad person at all. You were just... misunderstood, let's say.

You accomplished all your missions on time, and you were undoubtedly a defender of your people with all your heart and pride on the edge of your sword. You were also known as the 'Elusive Pillar', due to your obvious nature. If anything, the real reason you were still alive was because of your enormous ability to dodge and escape from dangerous situations instead of attacking.

If a demon recognized you, the others knew there was no way to beat you: you were going to make them desperate, and eventually their hunger would turn to frustration. People loved you unconditionally for that reason. It was even funny.

To Ubuyashiki and the other Pillars, the reason for your loyalty to the cause was unknown. Why on earth had you become part of the team? No, indeed, how did you even manage it?

You could go against the evil of the world, the injustices and the demons; but not for a murderous hatred, and much less for money, because clearly your salary was the lowest. Your interest was nil. During fights you preferred to work alone, because you enjoyed the chase and the weight of death on your heels.

And you always laughed. Always. God help us, because at this point you even looked like a crazy person.

Otherwise, you were almost never with Ubuyashiki and the Pillars. Who knows where you would be fulfilling missions; eating or sleeping at night. It was difficult to contact you because even your crow had had enough of you—a peck on your head and never came back. Trusting someone lonely and who seemed to play between life and death was too much even for the natural course of the universe, if even a crow didn't want you around.

But as much fun as the idea of continuing to play blindly with death was, duty eventually came to your door, materialized in the form of Ubuyashiki's crow. The animal announced the arrival of new subjects and a demon that promised scientific advances; and the truth is that it was impossible for you to contain your curiosity.

Your approach to the team not only led you to reconnect with the Pillars, and thus take back the place that belonged to you, but also to meet special demons that promised another kind of glimpse of what was your good friend. The most loyal, honest and eternal companion.

Death. Or maybe something more—something terrible.

Gyomei

The Stone Pillar considers you a necessary member, but condemns your childish attitude. He does not believe that your uprooting will bring positive things, both for you and for them; and he fears, of course, for your safety when you fail to report your condition after many months away from home. Gyomei thinks you could do with some training to forge some character in you, and asks Ubuyashiki to allow him to be your teacher.

Needless to say, the decision doesn't seem like a good idea to you. For the first few days you disappear again; and if you return at all, it's to steal some food from the kitchens and to play with Nezuko, who turned out to be a pleasant companion with whom you can enjoy a moment's peace. Gyomei catches you in the act, but holds back and says nothing. He secretly begins to discover facets that he thought were alien to you—and he begins to like that. His perception of you eventually changes.

Gyomei would gradually become a silent stalker. That would lead him to take advantage of the information he gets from you in your vulnerable moments, in order to connect with you when he can catch you in the middle of your escapades. He uses his wits to avoid being discovered; and although guilt weighs on his conscience, a strange pleasure settles in his heart.

With the delicacy of a petal against the lips, Gyomei rests his against your ear on the coldest nights; sighing sensitive words of encouragement, finding morbid satisfaction in how you melt and surrender yourself before him. When you decide to give him a chance, finding in him a sensitive soul who understands you incredibly, you end up undressing your soul, and you share with him part of your past. Why you are like this.

The story of your family being slaughtered brings the Stone Pillar down completely. You tell him how a distant relative betrayed your parents, selling them with no shame. You survived by the grace of the Gods; while your siblings ended their own lives, terrified that the same demon might return for them. Over the years you found it impossible to end your life as they did. There was something inside you—a flame. It wasn't courage or honor; neither was it a thirst for revenge. You simply wanted to live.

Gyomei understands that you and he are somewhat alike, and if that alone doesn't fuel his craze for you, the fact that you are so fragile definitely does. Fragile for him, at least. A voracious hunger begins to take hold of his being; the need to contain and possess you, to never let you escape again. The idea that you still want to savor the brush of death and enjoy the chase burns within his heart. Gyomei can't believe you're going to go on living like it's nothing; even after that night he confided his past to you too.

Gyomei would be a soft yandere. He doesn't use brute force to keep you in line. He prefers to mold you emotionally and psychologically. He would know how to follow you silently; he would use all the information he gets from this to get you, to make you need him, and maybe make you more docile and to never escape from there. From him. He would use your past misfortunes to brainwash you, considering that he loves your dependence on him.

Gyomei doesn't mind if you remain a Pillar. Although if in the end you decide to give that up he wouldn't mind either…

Tengen

Tengen considers you a curious specimen. He finds it fascinating to meet a person as agile as he is, who seems to understand the techniques of a speed fight. Imagine the surprise that engulfs him when, challenging you to a race, he finds that there is no way to track you by sound—you are quick and delicate as a leaf in the wind.

Nevertheless, the Sound Pillar feels conflicted with other facts. For example, that your loyalty to Ubuyashiki is merely a matter of convenience, since for you none of this is part of honor or revenge directly as they are; and eventually, Tengen feels both distrustful and fascinated at the same time.

How are you supposed to relate to him if the guy is giving mixed signals all the time? As the weeks go by you decide it's best to ignore him—and Tengen, of course, hates that. The frustration of not being able to be with you, since you run away all the time, leads him to put aside prejudice in order to enjoy training and racing with you. On one of those days he finds Gyomei spying on you, and the Sound Pillar can't hide a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't annoyance; the truth is that he was also intrigued to know what you were doing in your free time (which was technically almost all the time).

Tengen would be slow to realize that he is falling on his knees before you. He thinks it's because he has found a good partner, with whom he can enjoy many fun times. But the truth is that it's hard to control his feelings when he discovers that Gyomei has managed to have you in the palm of his hand; not only getting honest about who you are, but also monopolizing your time by becoming your teacher. An accumulation of jealousy leads him to eventually accept that he has begun to like you. You know—more than a friend.

I said it would take him a while to figure it out, didn't I? I hope you know how to prepare yourself very well for when Tengen accepts the inevitable. There's no turning back when he decides there's no reason to hide or repress his feelings for you. The Sound Pillar does everything to hinder your encounters with Gyomei; and even proposes to help you in your training when he notices how close you are to the Stone Pillar. Although it pains him to accept that you appreciate his partner, Tengen understands that he can't simply force you to stop talking to him.

The truth is that I don't think Tengen is a violent or extremely jealous yandere. Of course, as his obsession with having you to himself increases, so does his jealousy or harmful thoughts if he finds you too close to Gyomei, for example. But like the Stone Pillar, he is incapable of laying a hand on you… at least in violent terms—because sexually speaking, the Sound Pillar is increasingly thirsty. Unlike Gyomei, who finds pleasure in the emotional control he has over you, Tengen prefers to be physically dominant and have your attention and devotion on him at all times.

The day he discovers something from your past is the day you can consider yourself lost. Tengen will try everything in his power to familiarize you with his wives —always imagining that you could be among them, as a partner, good friend and lover—, and thus bind you emotionally; taking advantage of the fact that Gyomei opened a past wound. Tengen wants to show you that he can help you forget the pain with his great qualities. Sex, money, fun... Anything you want, he can give you. Do you want to cheat death? He will help you with that! Of course, then you have to be good, and return the favors... And who are you to refuse a good friend?

As long as your attention and adoration are on him, Tengen has no problem with you remaining a Pillar and talking to others. But at the end of the day he must always be your priority! Because, when you have to leave your post, you have to know how to satisfy him to fulfill your role by being at home with everyone else.

Yep, he's made up his mind. He has to be fast if he wants to get you. Even faster than you.

Kyōjurō

Well, let's see. You didn't like this guy at first. What the hell with that smile? And that voice? God, if anything he can seem like someone so nice, but the first moment he meets you the only thing that comes out of his mouth is: 'I don't accept your ways! But I welcome you, Elusive Pillar!’ And that's not a bad thing—please don't be misunderstood. You didn't expect them to open their arms to you as soon as you arrived; you understood it was going to be difficult if they'd hardly ever seen you in their lives. But this guy was something else.

Although Kyōjurō is not entirely convinced of your participation in the cause, you two now have Tengen in common. He appreciates you both very much, and the Flame Pillar notices it; so he tries with minimal interest to relate to you in order to understand what it is that fascinates others so much. It doesn't take him long to become equally fascinated with your agility and wit. You're quite charming, too! Suddenly Kyōjurō's smile grows naturally—his heart vibrates with excitement as a new day begins with your face in front of his.

The Flame Pillar is a typical sunshine. You quickly grow fond of him, and deeply appreciate his company. At first it was hard to put up with his yelling, and let's not even get started on how hard it is to talk to him because of his poor hearing. But other than that, Kyōjurō is a real sweetheart of a person that you love spending time with; you play together, eat together, and he even supports you unconditionally in your training and everything you do... until these same goals begin to pull you away from him.

You can't wish for things so different from him! The Flame Pillar loves your way of dealing with society's problems —demons or crime in general—, but he knows that sooner or later your true goals are going to lead you to not concentrate all your energy on your training, and with that, to move away from him and the cause. Kyōjurō wants you to stay with them forever... Well, the truth is that he wants you to stay with him forever, rather.

The Flame Pillar knows how to use his charm on others to drag shame and guilt on you. How do you go against the ideas of someone as respected as him? Impossible! Imagine how hard it is to start missing training, meals or meetings when everyone is betting on your participation because of Kyōjurō; the way even Ubuyashiki eats the story that the Flame Pillar puts on the table for him. Gyomei himself proposed it, and Tengen fully supported it.

‘Master! This person is very valuable to us, but it is difficult for them to accept it… Their past haunts them—the pain of loss and distrust of themselves. They are afraid! Master, please propose Elusive Pillar's compulsory and absolute participation with us! We are their friends and we want them to take command of their territory and responsibilities as a Pillar.’

Kyōjurō is an extremely possessive yandere, but not jealous. He loves to imagine that it will be practically impossible for you to escape if everyone starts to get familiar with you. Maybe you'll find a better goal if you see that everyone loves you! Why wish for death, when there is a huge and powerful family that can bring you greater pleasure? Besides, it would be a shame to jeopardize your abilities for an unnecessary whim such as playing with fate; always between life and death, escaping from those who can appreciate and love you.

The Flame Pillar is a delusional man. It doesn't matter how much you show your discomfort; nor how much you fight or escape countless nights, when everyone is asleep. He really believes you do it because you're afraid of the truth: you need them, and especially him. You crave affection, protection and unconditional support. You long for someone like him—a person capable of providing for you in all the ways you lack in your own capacity. But don't be ashamed! Kyōjurō will do whatever it takes to make sure that your ideas —and your legs, which really would be a shame if something were to happen to them— don't get in the way of the dazzling future that awaits with your new family... and partners, too. The Flame Pillar has no intention of abandoning his own yearnings with you.

Giyū

Giyū doesn't give a shit about you. The truth is, he doesn't agree with your actions, and disinterest is his first response to anything to do with you. So what if you're agile? So what if you're resourceful? What good is it if others fight to get Ubuyashiki's word to keep you locked up and forced to work on other terms? Giyū knows you're not going to take it seriously one way or the other. You're not even here for money, food or shelter—you're here for fun!

The Water Pillar finds it offensive that you show your face every morning in the main yards. Your hand on your sword and your back straight; eyes attentive to everyone and everything. He doesn't quite understand your dynamic either. Why are you so good at EVERYTHING you do when you fight? What is your purpose? Giyū feels that the world becomes three times more confusing when he must leave on a mission with you, and until you have the demon stressed you don't give even one cut with your sword. NOT EVEN ONE.

In spite of everything, he cannot deny that the Gods are on your side because of the way you dodge death with every step you take. Every leap is minutely calculated; every turn, every laugh, even. You dare not waste air—your breaths are precise and clean. Your technique is immaculate.

The Water Pillar swallows his prejudices when you end up saving his life. You decapitated the last demon with simplicity, smiling sweetly at him. Giyū didn't know the reason, or maybe he wanted to ignore it; but from that day on he had to give Kyōjurō the reason. To the things he and the others whispered about you on the sly. Because yes, just as you read it: Giyū might be as frustrated as he wanted to show, but he couldn't shake the charm of your smile and the impact of your presence around him.

Don't think this will make him want to spend time with you anyway. This guy is going to go on for a while ignoring you after he greets you in the morning. His eyes will roam over your figure, his hands will trace the fabric of your haori when you least expect it, and maybe he'll allow himself to take a walk to catch you sneaking around playing in the trees, wanting to hear your laughter... But nah, don't think it's because he's interested in you. Right?

Giyū is extremely weird. He doesn't understand that he likes you; and when Tengen makes a joke alluding to it, the Water Pillar can't help but feel deeply hurt that you don't even care about that. The feeling passes, but the disappointment there lingers. Giyū is embarrassed and confused. What is wrong with you? What is this unhealthy interest? The walks among the trees increase; and it's all about learning more about you and discovering what drives him so much to you. It's just that. It really is.

The thing with Giyū is this: the guy ends up coming to the conclusion that it's all due to pure and simple admiration for you. Nothing more. He talks it over with Kyōjurō —for he doesn't trust Tengen and his humor; neither does he trust Gyomei and his need to keep all information concerning you to himself—, and with a bit of manipulation here and there is where the real trouble begins. The Water Pillar is a new man.

Giyū would take a long time to demonstrate his yandere nature, but once he does, for you it's where hell on earth unleashes its first waves of heat. A warning. The Water Pillar is possessive and jealous, but he doesn't communicate it with words; he prefers to punish you physically with light activities, and humiliate you with a kind of ice law to make you feel lonely. Of course he'll join in with the others, and take advantage of this to gain your attention and affection, so that he can get inside your head and manage you as he pleases. And, hey, don't tell anyone, but... Giyū doesn't enjoy having to share you.

His darkest dream is that something terrible would happen to you, to those beautiful, fast legs, so that you would abandon your post and he could lock you away from the world. You would be just for him—to discover together other kinds of morbid pleasures that don't have to bring you so close to death, and thus away from him.

Sanemi

I'll keep it short and clear with this guy: it's going to hurt like hell, and where suffering is optional, with him it's inevitable and unstoppable. Your encounter with the Wind Pillar begins and ends with a fight, where he refuses to 'team up with someone as hopeless as you'. Just as you thought sensibly about Kyōjurō you did so with Sanemi, but of course you came to be offended by his violent behavior. The discomfort was such that you ended up running away for the whole day; terrified at the thought of having to share another space with him.

Sanemi doesn't exactly hate you, but he doesn't appreciate you either. It's a middle ground... that always ends with an explosion on his part. Screams, fists in the air; occasionally your terrified face. That's funny to him—your grimace of terror. You can be unstoppable to demons, and maybe charm others with your wit or shit whatever it is you hide up your sleeve, but he'd rather keep the charm of your fear to himself. You're so small and easy to take down with a scream. You are pathetic.

The Wind Pillar would be one of the most difficult to conquer/accompany. Relating to him means that you're going to have to put up with banging and yelling; although if you decide to walk away, he will eventually find out one way or another about your past. At first it's annoying mutterings, all coming from what he considers to be your 'pathetic followers'. Then the odd encounter with Kyōjurō, where Sanemi can't ignore honorific mentions of you and your achievements in battle; as well as your amazing personality and authenticity. To the Wind Pillar all this is pure garbage. Why should he be interested?

'They are pathetic. Are you telling me that they come to take part in a cause for the fun of it? So what if they fight and defend? It's the minimum and indispensable; I'm not going to applaud them. Nor do I find much merit in them being fast or agile... How else are they going to survive if they're not? Fuck them—with their ways of doing things, here and there. Whatever. I don't want to talk about this again, Rengoku.'

It gets to a point where Sanemi can't get over the frustration. His partner's voice keeps drilling into his head—his words about you; the way you 'so well' fight or handle yourself around, melting into the environment as you carry yourself with simplicity and divine graces... Needless to say, at night the Wind Pillar corners you after witnessing your training. The result? A 'let's fight, you piece of garbage', and a beating that leaves you stone dead for a week. It is humiliating for Sanemi to have to accept what others whispered in the shadows: you were charming. And not just charming, let's be honest; also fast and agile.

Like Tengen, the Wind Pillar would begin to let go of certain prejudices in order to spend quality time with you. In other words, simple training. Sometimes also because of how easy it was to be with you even in the silence, thanks to that way you have of being: so calm, but at the same time on par with the flow of life. It's as if you are aware of things that humans normally ignore. Sanemi didn't know how to explain it—it seemed complicated and therefore annoying. He preferred not to be annoyed with you; who knows if he would end up beating you to a pulp again.

Kyōjurō seizes the opportunity and leaves the rest of the work in the hands of Gyomei, whom Sanemi deeply respects. The latter gives him an account of nefarious events that end your family's story, and of the real reason behind Ubuyashiki's words regarding your new role in the cause. The Wind Pillar since then keeps seeing you with different eyes; his own heart spinning as he imagines your small figure —that of a creature; a child— facing such macabre scenarios. He understands on the one hand why you act the way you do. The image of his own brother dancing in his mind, with bitter memories tangling with yours. He's going crazy and the feeling is strange.

Sanemi will begin to silently admire you. With that comes other particular things, like his drastic mood swings; being bitter, maybe angry at something or someone, and then an appearance from you keeps him shy or silent. It's strange to you—but you don't question anything about it. You love being able to have a normal coexistence together with Wind Pillar, whom you admire greatly for his strength.

Sanemi, along with Iguro and Shinobu, would be the most dangerous once their yandere natures come out. The Wind Pillar is quick to understand that he wants and NEEDS to protect you. He is capable of anything for it, even hurting you enough to cripple you. He is a passionate lover; he wishes he could hold you in his arms, and can only bear to share you normally with Iguro; filling his head with ideas to set his eyes on you. So watch out, because Sanemi is going to do the impossible to make you understand (physical, psychological or sexual punishments. All of it). Maybe it's time for him to share more time with Tengen—something interesting could come out of it to try out with you.

Iguro

How come? Sanemi's on his knees for you? The Snake Pillar feels like the world is upside down when he finds his friend's lost eyes for you. And why is that, by any chance? He doesn't quite understand; but he's willing to find out. Of course it's not easy, considering that even with your reduced schedule due to training and meetings you're still on the run and doing your own thing. In dark times, in pain and illness, you are still you. He admires that very much.

Iguro is another dangerous yandere who accepts his own nature without shame. As soon as Sanemi fills his head with topics referring to you, he marches and includes himself in your routines to learn more about who you really are and the things that make you up. For you it's awkward, of course—the encounters are forced. Iguro judges you all the time, though he soon realizes that you're not at all like Giyū: someone haughty who passes over others. It's a relief to him. How could he have doubted his friend's judgment?

The Snake Pillar invites you to trainings, either alone with him or even when the Wind Pillar is available as well. It's hard for you to keep up when they attack you so eagerly. You can tell how much fun they have with you, fascinated by your movements and your charm when you get caught up in the moment; for Iguro it's a feast for the eyes and ears, with your laughter vibrating in his memory when you're not there. It doesn't take long for the Snake Pillar to feel repulsed by his feelings for you as they begin to emerge. He finds it bold on his part; considering himself unpleasant and unable to live up to you.

Just like Giyū and Gyomei, Iguro will start stalking you to satiate his need for you. In one of those many silent pursuits he'll end up hearing a couple of curious murmurs from the others, and as if his fascination for you wasn't enough, with whispers about your past and a couple of more private details he ends up accepting that he can't —nor wants to— tear you out of his head. From here the stalking increases, and you know he's there, but you don't say anything. You think it's halfway understandable; you weren't going to be marching with freedom so easily yet. Although the reason you had in mind was totally different from what they had.

Once the contempt stage passes and your words of encouragement reach the Snake Pillar's heart, considering that your friendship with him increases over time, Iguro will be more than willing to be faithful to you completely. He will attend to your needs whenever he can and you need him to; he will give you emotional support, as one would imagine a man devoted to his lover; and he will be defending the territory around you like an animal. He is a possessive yandere, and quite violent with the reason of his obsession if he doesn't get what he wants: your attention and reciprocation. Needless to say, just like Giyū, Iguro hates having to share you. When he learns that Tengen has plans to take you into his domain to fulfill alongside his wives, fury consumes him.

The Snake Pillar is not entirely okay with you continuing to take on your responsibility as a Pillar. What's more, with the Wind Pillar they had wicked conversations; full of plans on how to get you to retire forcibly. At first it's a soft thing—the sweetness falling from his lips like a whisper. As desperation takes over his mind, and with it bitter fantasies where he loses you completely, Iguro loses patience and accepts Sanemi's help to humiliate and break you mentally. Who knows... maybe even this will lead you to despair; and with it, to a terrible accident.

But you don't have to be afraid! Iguro has suffered for a long time from confinement. He understands that your charm comes from that beautiful freedom, with which you can walk around and sing for him. Iguro loves to hear your laughter. So when you retire, he will be more than willing to accompany you and keep an eye on you; always attentive to your needs, and then you can calmly return home, where you will lie for the rest of your life in a quiet and safe routine, far from death. The Snake Pillar trembles with excitement, unable to process how happy it feels to dream of that future where he has you tamed. Where you are docile and always by his side.

Muichiro (platonic)

Muichiro forgets you as soon as you introduce yourself after a meeting. The Mist Pillar, who is just a child at your side, not even acknowledges you from then on; passing you without greeting, losing his attention on the shapes of the clouds, and remaining silent, his eyes fixed somewhere when you speak to him. It's strange—but you don't question much else.

The only way I can see this boy ending up obsessing over you is after a messy fight. Not that he will be immediately attached to you; but he will certainly remember your face and voice clearly when you have saved his life. It's as if you've reached a weak spot inside his mind, in a dusty corner. The honorable way in which you risked your life to save a couple of children from several hungry demons, with a speech directed towards the Mist Pillar and his behavior, undoubtedly interfered with a barrier in his heart.

Muichiro is jealous, but only if he loses his priority for attention. If you put him at the top of your agenda, rest assured that you won't have to deal with his bad temper, which is pretty funny—but don't let his tenderness blind you. The Mist Pillar may do unpleasant things, never directed at you, in order to have you all to himself.

The loss of his family at such an early age, and in a traumatic way, leads Muichiro to cling to you in order to feel the normality he lost years ago. At the beginning it's something soft: glances, smiles, training sessions together, meals... By the time you realize it, you have the Mist Pillar inside your territory. It's like having a little brother. It's tender, but over time it becomes insistent.

Kyōjurō takes this opportunity to try to mimic Muichiro within your family picture—convince your brain that the wounded boy could be saved by you, just as you never could with your own siblings. It's cruel, but at the end of the day it works successfully. You may not see the Mist Pillar as normal at all; but he is patient, and he is willing to pull the strings to force you to like him if necessary.

Muichiro is a soft yandere, who enjoys being affectionate and receiving equal treatment. Like others of his peers, he doesn't quite agree with you being a Pillar; but he also can't imagine a future where he can't fight by your side. He loves to watch you dance among the leaves, moving your legs almost as if you were flying—never touching the ground enough, looking like a bird about to dart toward the enemy with the edge of your sword as its beak.

But as much as he adores you, Muichiro understands that he has to take care of you if he wants to continue to enjoy your presence and your affection. The way? By ruining your wings a little... just enough for you to flap them when he wants you to; but to make it impossible for you to fly away. You'd lose the charm if you have to be put in a cage, no matter how much others think it's optimal.

The Mist Pillar has dark ideas, but they are born out of the fear of losing you. From his affection for you. He is mostly someone tender and possessive, willing to mental manipulation rather than physical punishment. The latter would be the one he would never choose, unless you force him.

Shinobu

Sadistic and unstoppable. That's how Shinobu can be described. She would have been obsessed with you long ago, perhaps since you arrived with the other Pillars; but she would not be close to you completely until time passes, and with the arrival of Kyōjurō and his confirmation about the popular interest in you is when she decides she might join the plan.

The Insect Pillar is someone who enjoys good conversation, medicine and peace. She is too quiet and can barely care deeply about anything other than her job as a Pillar. Other than that, forget about it. So imagine her surprise when she learns of your arrival—Ubuyashiki's words echoing in her head as she prepares everything to inspect your health.

Suspicion blossoms first. Shinobu doesn't quite buy the reason you became a Pillar, but feigns understanding about your case and listens with sincere interest to your anecdotes. Discovering that you have traveled and fought around many new places, with demons of all kinds and a secret past, begins to sting deep inside her. At the beginning it is just that: curiosity and distrust. She refuses to so freely allow anyone who has been away for so long. I mean, you're the first Pillar in history to have been away from their post for so long! What's the point of that?

Because you have to attend often for the beatings Sanemi gives you, or for regular checkups for health issues that Ubuyashiki is concerned about, Shinobu finds herself starting varied conversations with you, because she finds you a good companion. You learn new things about medicine, and impart to her techniques you learned far away, having to meet doctors from hidden villages. The Insect Pillar considers you an interesting and powerful member.

The moment where Shinobu starts to like you is unclear. As if that wasn't enough, her signals are confusing, and she doesn't fully share her feelings with you or anyone else. To you, the Insect Pillar is terrifying with her empty eyes and inaccurate temperament. To her, you are charming and interesting; with a bright personality that helps her dispel anger and sadness.

You don't often see the Insect Pillar, but she is always one step behind you. There's no escaping when her obsession grows and is fed by Kyōjurō and the others. Just like Iguro and Giyū, Shinobu is a potential stalker, feeding her delusions with whatever she can gather from your daily routines. These same fantasies grow with the help of her companions, and it won't be long before she starts using her poisons to create new drugs to use on you.

Shinobu has no problem using physical punishment. What's more, her regular talks with Sanemi always end with a topic referring to you. She agrees with the Wind Pillar about leaving you immobilized so that you will never again endanger your life by being a Pillar. Needless to say, she is not easily moved; there would be no way for your tears or pleas to do anything in her heart.

The Insect Pillar has lost someone very special in a cruel way at the hands of a demon. Of course, you are much more agile and quicker, able to play with death without fear climbing up your back. But how long until your legs fail? How long until no one can ever hear your voice again?

Birds continue to sing even inside their cages.

Mitsuri

The Love Pillar is enchanted by you from the first moment she lays her eyes on you. She is fascinated by your ways: from the way you run, to the way you train, to the way you laugh or fight. Everything about you is incredibly cool and, of course, attractive. How could anyone hold back when they see your smile? Even your voice and shyness when Ubuyashiki introduces you to the whole team is charming.

Mitsuri is by far the Pillar you like the most besides Gyomei. Both are sweet and understanding; although just like Kyōjurō, the Love Pillar is delusional about what you want, and what she thinks is really what you should want. You don't pay enough attention to everything she says about it; you don't think there's anything you need to change. You are very clear about what you want and what you don't want.

Mitsuri doesn't agree with your escapades at all. She loves to see you being happy, and especially if it's because of her that you laugh so beautifully. But is it really necessary for you to seek such cruel things as death to give your life meaning? What is it that you are really looking for, deep down in your heart? The Love Pillar is worried that something terrible will happen to you and you will no longer be able to use your legs. It would be unfortunate if you could no longer dance and train together.

Unlike other Pillars, this girl wouldn't find satisfaction at all in having to hurt you to make you stay. Mitsuri prefers to use words... and well, let's be honest, maybe a LITTLE bit of force—but only to scare you. For her the best thing is to have you psychologically handled; the purest emotions, such as love, will keep you tied to her with honesty.

The Love Pillar has no problem sharing you—the more the merrier! There may be Pillars that she likes more than others, but in general she doesn't believe in having preferences when it comes to taking care of you and loving you. Mitsuri is not jealous; her security reaches to the skies, and her concern to have you satisfied is greater than any other negative feelings that could take place in her regarding your other partners (even if you don't think they are, but now you have them!).

The truth is, it would be hard to tell when she becomes obsessed with you. The Love Pillar may seem casual in showing her love for you, but it only takes a moment of desperation where it seems like you're going to vanish from her life to find her obsessive nature. Mitsuri is capable of crying, begging, and in one last —and terrible— instance even outright manipulating you, just so you won't leave her side.

The Love Pillar is very sweet and attentive, but also capricious. If it were up to her, she would do everything she could to be glued to your side so she could kiss you, hug you and live as your shadow. Her biggest dream? To have a family with you, of course! Imagine how beautiful the two of you would look together; a beautiful western style house in the background, with a traditional garden where you could sit and eat pancakes and watch Muichiro train, who of course is part of the family and Mitsuri already adopted —secretly— as your little brother.

But I would like to, you know, give you a little warning. Notice well how much Kyōjurō starts to impact on Mitsuri. Especially if you decide to reject her attempts; because then her obsession would become violent, and that means that maybe the impact on you would no longer be solely psychological. I tell you this in case you cherish your legs very much, for example. I don't think you would want to lose them.

Just as I don't think they would like to lose you.

[respectthepetty]

scared of your thoughts on fk - i think they confuse their friends & each other - feels so intricate

You asked about one specific pair, but . . .

You opened a floodgate!

I already wrote that I like fan service; therefore, I like First and Khaotung's special brand of teary-eyed fan service. However, I also wrote that JoongDunk are my GMMTV favorites because Joong is always hyping up his homies, and Dunk stays Pretty Boy Petty.

So I'm excited to see all four promote The Heart Killers when the show is ready to be released since I think it'll be a hoot watching First and Khaotung call each other best friends with tears in their eyes while Joong sits next to them commenting on how banging Dunk's body is and Dunk openly agreeing that his body is, in fact, banging. Joong and Dunk are always firing shots at First x Khaotung for no good ass reason, so I'm thrilled they will get to do it to First and Khaotung's faces for an extended period of time.

Because to me, most fan service is good since it allows people to see people of the same sex casually being affectionate with each other without the belief that it should be shameful or hidden, so give me all the styles of GMMTV fan service! Give me Force x Book's eighty year friendship, Pond x Phuwin's nerdy fashion model energy, Earth x Mix's marriage and divorce era, Tay x New's fist fights over dessert, Off x Gun's evolution of skinship, Jimmy x Sea's intellectual companionship, Gemini x Forth's "fuck it, we ball' attitude, and all the other 31 Flavors of Branded Pairs the BL world has to offer us.

Because I really do not care what these men do or do not do or if it is real or not. What bothers me is these companies (not just GMMTV) encourage this behavior, then when fans get toxic, the companies leave the actors to deal with the fallout. I also don't like that out actors aren't as well protected and even straight actors and their girlfriends are targeted by fans, which only encourages queer actors to stay closeted while delivering a queer performance and for straight actors to feed into this mind fuckery by being in a pseudo-monogamous relationship with their acting partner which is an extension of our heteronormative societies and their belief that affection can only be reserved for one person.

So my thoughts on First and Khaotung are irrelevant because I'm going to like all these pairs regardless of what they give me. Max and Tul were as open as possible about Max having a girlfriend and Tul being gay, yet that in no way influenced how I enjoyed their fan service. Yin and War have stated several times that what they do is their job, and I'm still clapping every time War chokes Yin. And as much as I truly believe Mos and Bank are married, if they came out today and said they actually hate each other and cannot stand the sight of each other, I'd be proud at their acting skills all these years because I have faked liking my coworkers for a lot less money.

As a Catholic and a slut, I think there is a great sociological study here about how branded pairs help with queer representation regardless if the people in the pairs are queer or not, yet how the pairs must still fit into a digestible frame of traditional (hetero) relationships with affection only being given to one person forever and ever until death (or their contracts) do them part.

So First and Khaotung aren't the only ones confusing people because this entire setup is confusing. They aren't creating some intricate strategy but these companies are. These actors are just out here telling their homies they look cute and going on (hopefully) company-sponsored trips. And if they like it, I love it.

Because I've been pretending to like Karen from Finance for years when I can't stand that bitch, yet I still have a job that pays my bills, so "get it how you live it."

And make it a little queer along the way.

[sapphicantics]

Two Sides of the Same Coin | Chapter One

Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Summary: After a nobody destroys the Jocks and insults the Queen Bee without a care or an apology, you get catapulted to the top of the social food chain next to aforementioned Queen Bee, Regina George, who now has to learn to share the spotlight with North Shore’s new bad girl. | Or alternatively, your ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude sucks you and Regina into each other’s worlds sending you down a path you never expected.

Chapter word count: 1.7k

Contents: vaping, underage drinking, mentions of weed, threats of violence, mentions of broken bones, shitty comebacks - I think that’s it, lemme know if I missed any

Note: Alright, I’m finally here with the first official chapter of Same Coin. Now I don’t know how often updates are gonna be for this fic but they will be coming, I’ve got so many ideas for it.

Intro - Chapter 2

— — — —

Menace is a bit of a crazy term to use to describe someone who sticks up for themself, but this is high school and everyone loves to exaggerate, especially boys with fragile egos who can’t stand the school knowing they got their asses kicked by a girl.

And when the girl is you — a girl who keeps to herself and minds her own fucking business like people should do any-fucking-way — oh, there’s bound to be countless descriptors thrown onto you to help rebuild their fragile masculinity.

Volatile, temperamental, crazy, psycho just to name a few.

You’re not sure how those are supposed to rebuild their masculinity, especially when you can just kick their asses and knock it right back down again. Despite those seemingly negative connotations that come with your new title, it does, admittedly, have a rather nice ring to it.

Anyways, nice ring or not, negative connotations or not, title or not, you’ve got far more important things to focus on instead.

Like why the fuck Charlie Hudson is in front of you right now.

It’s lunch and you’re under the bleachers with a strawberry flavored vape pen in hand. You take a hit and blow a cloud of smoke past your lips, raising a brow at him.

He doesn’t speak for a while probably assuming you’ll do so first, but you just take more hits from your vape and continue to stare at him. He approached you, he came over here to you, he’s interrupting your time so he must want something from you and he either tells you on his own or he doesn’t tell you at all. It makes no difference to you, but you’re definitely not gonna ask what he wants.

It’s only when you check your watch does he remember he’s on a time crunch and finally opens his mouth to speak. “I’m having a party tonight. I was thinking you could swing by for a bit.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Well, it’s gonna be a whole thing, you know?” No you don’t know, and that really doesn’t answer the question on why he’s inviting you or why he thinks you’d even want to go, but thankfully he continues. “Real big, real fun, real cool…” he reaches into his pocket, pulling his hand out and passing some cash over to you. “…really need someone to bring the Mary Jane.”

You tilt your head at him, looking between him and the cash before sliding your vape into your jacket pocket. You pluck the cash from his hands and flick through the stack. There’s a couple thousand dollars here — broken up into smaller bills because why not — a little over a thousand by your count, sixteen hundred to be exact, which is far more than you usually charge to supply a party, but if the rich boy wants to give you all his money then you’re not gonna stop him.

Perhaps, this might make you a thief to some, but really, what’s one more negative connotation added to your name?

You slip the cash in your pocket and nod. “I’ll be there at ten.”

He flashes you a smile as you walk past him and brush your shoulder against his. There’s no force behind it — okay there’s a little force behind it, not a lot though — but still he flinches at the pressure and you don’t miss the way he reaches up to rub at his shoulder out of your peripherals.

That reminds you that you need to make a few things clear. Well, one thing, specifically.

“Oh, and Charles?” He hates that name, thinks it makes him seem like an old man and what better way to ensure he knows you’re serious than calling him by his government. He seems to understand this as his eyes snap to yours and he tenses. “If North Shore wants a chance at making it to state this year, it’d be in your best interest to ensure your brother is on his best behavior tonight. Unless, of course, Lucas wants more broken bones. You got me?”

The bell rings behind you then, a seemingly ominous warning to the boy whose face is now alight with fear. You don’t bother waiting on a response, you know he’ll obey your wishes. You smirk and turn on your heels, disappearing into the school.

— — — —

You show up at 9:45.

Fifteen minutes before the agreed upon time, a rather gracious compromise in your opinion.

One you’re already starting to regret as you walk into the house.

The music is blasting so loud you can barely hear yourself think. The house stinks of sweat from the hundreds of people crowded around each other, dancing, singing, laughing, and making out.

Everyone is drunk — some way more wasted than others — but somehow they all seem to sense your presence and part for you like the Red Sea. Some of them even turn their heads to see if it’s really you before quickly looking away and whispering to their friends.

You roll your eyes at that and Charlie takes this moment to finally make his appearance, trudging his way out of the kitchen. He makes a detour once he spots you and after a quick greeting, he leads you out to the backyard. “You got the stuff?”

“What a stupid question,” you scoff. “You think I’d take your money and then show up to this party empty handed with this duffle just for fun?”

You shrug the bag off and place it on the ground between the two of you, unzipping it as you do so. Inside is a bunch of pre-rolled joints and plenty of bags of weed for those who prefer to use a bong. There’s some rolling papers in there so people can roll their own joints, but you’re pretty sure if anyone does rolls their own joints tonight they are not using the weed you bought — because they don’t trust you so they won’t trust the weed you bought, and also no one goes to a party without their own weed. On the off chance that they do use yours, however, the necessary supplies are there.

Charlie whistles at the haul, eyes wide, clearly not having expected this much from you, but that’s not really surprising.

“Damn, I knew you were a pothead but that’s pathetic even for you.”

It is surprising, however, that Charlie took time out of his day to summon an actual demon from hell to this party.

You say this out loud. On purpose. Because it’s your mouth and you’ll say whatever you want.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You turn your head to see none other than the devil herself, Regina George, glaring at you.

“You fucking heard me, Regina. You’re a demon and you should go crawl back into whatever fiery pit of hell you came out of.”

“Yikes, someone’s feeling dramatic today. But if I left, who would teach you how to dress?”

You chuckle and shove your hands into your pants pockets. “Rather presumptuous of you to assume I would want fashion advice from someone who looks like a copy and paste Barbie doll.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s adorable that you think your opinion matters-,”

You hold your hand up to stop any further comments and start talking over Regina, effectively cutting her off and shutting her up. “I’m so glad you said that because your opinion does not matter at all, not to me especially when I didn’t even ask, and acting like it does is only going to do you a disservice so I’m gonna go ahead and let you know - I don’t care and you can keep the rest of your shitty opinions to yourself.”

Regina scowls and steps into your personal space, pointing her finger at you, inches away from jabbing into your skin. She’s towering over you slightly and now that she’s so close, you have to tilt your head up to hold eye contact with her. “Listen here you little bitch-,”

For the second time in less than a minute, you cut Regina off, smirking at the little vein that bulges on her forehead. “No, I don’t think I will, actually.”

Regina is about to blow. You can see it in her eyes, in the way her shoulders are so tense, and if you can see it so can anyone else in the vicinity. You lean closer, lowering your voice to a whisper so only she can hear. “Be honest, are you just mad this shirt got to come out of the closet, and you didn’t?”

Regina’s hands are fast.

SMACK!

But so are yours.

You catch her wrist in your hand before her open palm can collide with your cheek, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the backyard. A hush falls around those outside and you feel dozens of eyes lock on the two of you.

Regina tries to pull her hand away and you tighten your grip in response - not enough to leave marks or to cause pain, just enough so she’s forced to stay where she is.

She glares at you, her eyes alight with fury and jaw tense. The air crackles with the intensity of her anger, and you can feel the heat of her rage radiating towards you. But there’s no backing down now.

“Enough, Regina!” you snap, your voice firm and unyielding. “This isn’t the time or place for this!”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, it seems like she might explode again. But you hold your ground, your own anger flaring to match hers.

“We’re not doing this,” you continue, your tone brooking no argument. “Not here, not now.”

She looks ready to argue, but you cut her off, stepping forward with a fierce determination. “Back off, Regina. We’ll settle this later.”

The tension hangs thick in the air, but she finally takes a step back and you release her, her jaw still clenched. Without waiting for her to respond, you turn on your heel and stride away, your heart pounding with the adrenaline of the confrontation.

You venture inside and slip into the kitchen, grabbing a beer. You down it in one go and grab another one for the road before leaving out the front door.

It’s gonna be a hell of a day tomorrow.

[asimpforthe80s]

Found You, Andrei

Starring: Nikto x bestfriend!Reader

Warnings: mentions of: torture, going to the gulag, and Russian speaking. Smut: Reader riding him, unprotected p in v, and stroking his cock.

"I'm going on a mission," he said softly and leaned against the railing of the bridge, the dark and cold, murky waters of the Neva reflected in his pale blue eyes. He didn't explain anything — as usual because of his never-ending top secret assignments — but his words sounded like a death sentence this time.

"I won't be able to keep in touch for quite some time. I'll text you on your old number when I get back. Don't throw it away, рыбка."

He smiled faintly at you, trying to cheer you up a little when he saw an anxiety in your eyes. He squeezed your palm, putting a small photo card into it: there was an image of the two of you, smiling carelessly under a snow-covered scarlet mountain-ash. "You'll wait for me, won't you?" It was the last time you saw him.

You nervously smoothed out the crumpled corner of a worn photo, waiting for the next landing. The image faded a long time ago, but this is the only memento that was left of your dear friend. 6 years. 6 long years of searching, sleepless nights, smoked cigarettes, and endless stress. You've lost all your friends and family, sold all your possessions, and learned how to hold a gun. You have transferred from one PMC to another and visited, perhaps, every God-forsaken corner of the world. Hell, you even ended up in the Gulag, thinking that he was there, and managed to escape, taking advantage of the turmoil due to the escape of some crazy guy named Makarov. Now, you are one of the operators of the Shadow Company. You are stripped of your previous life completely, your ID is fake, and you don't even know if your dear friend is still alive. There's only a small bit of hope smoldering inside you.

Doing an intelligence mission, you split from the rest of the group to search through the abandoned gas factory. You ran into Nikto when you were storming a building. He now wore a mask, but you immediately recognized his icy blue eyes. It was your dear friend, your Andrei ... But he looked very changed. He was... Different.. Damaged… Broken.

"Nikto.." you said, instantly hugging him without caring about the danger signs in your head. The hug was unexpected, but not unwanted. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, like they remembered how to do it despite everything. But he pulled away quickly, almost roughly, as if afraid that you'd see something in his face. Or maybe just afraid of feeling something.

"You shouldn't be here." His voice was cold, detached. Yet, there was a hint of something else underneath, a flicker of warmth that made you wonder if it was real or just your imagination. "Go back to the others."

His hand reached out to push you gently, but there was no force behind it. Just a silent plea for you to leave before things got worse. Before he hurt you. "Nikto, you're coming with me." You said roughly, a complete contrast to the you he knew. "I'm not letting you disappear for 6 years only to find you and leave you again." You growled, grabbing his hand. "Nyet..." Nikto started to protest, but the grip on his hand was firm. A shiver went down his spine at the sound of your voice - it was different. Rougher. Harder. Not the soft, gentle voice he was used to hearing. But there was something else too - a hint of demand, of command.

And then he felt the hand on his, firm and unyielding. And he knew. He knew that this was it. That whatever wall he had built around himself was about to come crashing down. And he was terrified. But he also couldn't bring himself to pull away. Because despite everything, he needed this. Needed you. "You can take that new fucking attitude and burn it in hell.." you whispered as you started dragging him with you, taking him to your team. The roughness in your voice, the way you dragged him along, it was all so unlike you. But there was something about it that stirred something deep within him. Something primal and raw. As if a part of him was waking up after years of slumber.

"Nyet!" He protested again, but it came out more like a growl. He let you drag him, his body moving automatically as he followed you towards the others. But his mind was screaming at him, telling him to stop. Telling him that this wasn't right. That he should stay hidden, stay safe. But the feel of your hand on his, the sound of your voice, it was too much. Too compelling. "ты пойдешь со мной, хочешь ты этого или нет, Никто." You said, speaking his native language, 'you will come with me whether you like it or not, Nikto'.

The harshness of your words, spoken in his mother tongue, hit him like a punch to the gut. It was like a key turning in a lock, unlocking doors he thought he had sealed off forever. For a moment, he stood there, frozen, staring at you with wide, unblinking eyes.

Then, slowly, he nodded. He didn't know why he was agreeing to this. Didn't know why he was following you. All he knew was that he had to. Had to be with you. Even if it meant risking everything.

"Da..." He finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "Я... я хочу с тобой." He said, 'I... I want to be with you. You nodded. "Good.. cause I'm not letting you leave again, lyubimaya." The word 'lyubimaya', which translated to 'beloved', hit him like a punch to the stomach. It was a word he hadn't heard in years. Years of pain and torment had erased any semblance of love from his life. And yet, there it was. Coming from you. And it wasn't just in your tone, but in your touch. Your grip on his hand was almost possessive, as if you were staking your claim on him.

"Lyubimaya?" He repeated the word, tasting it on his lips. It was bitter but not unpleasant. For some reason, it made him want to lean into your touch instead of pulling away. "Yes, lyubimaya.." You repeated, taking him inside your team's extraction helicopter. The interior of the helicopter was warm and cozy compared to the cold outside. There was a sense of camaraderie among the men, a bond that could only be formed through shared experiences and dangers. Seeing you among them, giving orders, made his heart swell with pride. You belonged here. You were meant to be leading these men, not stuck in some office job.

As he sat next to you, he felt a strange sense of contentment wash over him. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time. Maybe never. And for some reason, it scared him. "когда мы вернемся на базу, ты поешь, а потом мы пойдем в мое общежитие. ты займешь мою постель без разговоров." You said, telling him that when you got back to base, he was gonna eat, go back to your dorm, and take your bed without discussion. The words hung in the air between them, heavy and laden with meaning. His post. His bed. You were claiming him. Marking him as yours in front of everyone. And for some reason, it thrilled him. Excited him.

"Dа..." He murmured, nodding slowly. "Я... я буду делать так, как ты сказала." He would do as you said. Without question. Without hesitation. Because in that moment, he would do anything for you. "Good, Andrei.." You mumbled, saying his real name. The use of his real name hit him like a punch to the gut. Andrei. A name he hadn't heard in years. A name that was as foreign to him now as if it were another language entirely. Yet, hearing it fall from your lips sent a shiver down his spine. A good shiver. One that made his heart race and his breath hitch.

"Andrei..." He echoed, testing the word on his tongue. It felt strange. Heavy. But also comforting. Like coming home after a long journey. "You're safe with us.." you said, still not letting go of his hand. Your words hit him like a bolt of lightning, searing through the fog of his mind and touching something deep within him. Safe. You were saying he was safe. With you. With your team.

The idea was so alien to him, so foreign, that for a moment, he couldn't comprehend it. Couldn't believe it. But then, he felt it. The tension easing from his shoulders. The tight knot in his stomach loosened. He was safe. Here. With you. "Now.. let me see you.." you murmured, reaching for his mask. Your fingers brushed against his mask, and for a moment, he tensed up. But then, he realized that you weren't going to hurt him. That you wouldn't do anything to harm him. So, he let out a slow breath and closed his eyes. He waited. Waited for the pain. Waited for the fear. But it never came. Instead, all he felt was your gentle touch. And it was... nice. Comforting. Almost soothing. As you took off his mask, you saw the many, many scars of his previous torture. Placing a soft hand on his cheek, you tried to assure him that he was safe and no one would hurt him. At least no one from your base. "Oh, Andrei.." you whispered softly in that voice he knew. Not in that rough and demanding voice he heard earlier. Your touch was soft, almost reverential as you traced the scars on his face. Each line and mark told a story of pain and suffering. But they didn't scare you. They didn't make you flinch away. They made you care. And that care...it was overwhelming. It was too much. Too intense. But at the same time, it was exactly what he needed.

"Oh, Andrei..." The way you said his name. It was like a caress. A promise. A vow. It was a name that held so much weight. So much meaning. And hearing it from your lips was... intoxicating. "любовь моя.. тебе больно.. столько шрамов.. дорогая.." you mumbled, pulling him in for a hug he so desperately needed. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. The warmth of your body against his own was like a balm to his soul. It was comforting. Reassuring. It was something he craved. Needed. Desperately.

"Да..." He agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Больно... Больно много." It hurt. A lot. But as you held him, he found himself relaxing. Letting go of the fear. Of the pain. Just for a moment. "And that's okay.. A... Andrei.." you whispered with a soft stutter, taking off your own mask, discarding it on the floor along with his. Your mask hitting the floor brought him back to reality. Back to the harshness of their situation. But seeing you discard your mask too...it meant something. It meant trust. Loyalty. Friendship. Family. All things he'd been denied for so long.

"Da..." He nodded, finally opening his eyes to look at you. Really look at you. No mask. No disguise. Just you. His friend. His family. You were crying.. but.. matching. The both of you had so many scars. "Just like we used to.. we're matching.." You cried. Your tears stung his eyes, but he didn't blink. Didn't flinch. He just stood there, soaking in the sight of you. Of your tears. Of your scars. Matching. Just like old times. Only now, it wasn't just physical scars. It was emotional ones, too. Scars from the past. From the pain. From the loss.

"But why?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are we like this? Why did we have to become this?" You chuckled, drying your tears. "I wanted to find you.. I got desperate.. so I joined the same shit you did.. even went to the fucking gulag.." you cried. Your words hit him like a punch to the gut. Gulag. Fucking gulag. That place was hell on earth. And you went there. For him. Because you were desperate. Because you wanted to find him. Him. The monster that was Nikto.

"And you found me..." He muttered, feeling an odd mix of emotions. Pride. Relief. Fear. Guilt. All swirling around inside him like a storm. "I- I searched so many places.. и я наконец нашел тебя.." you said. Your words echoed in his mind. I finally found you. Those words were like a balm to his broken soul. A sign that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't alone anymore. That someone cared enough to look for him. To risk everything to find him.

"I'm sorry..." He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sorry for dragging you into this mess." You chuckled as you cried. "No, no, it's nothing.." you said. Your chuckle was like a slap in the face. It was unexpected. Unexpectedly human. Unexpectedly real. And it pissed him off. Made him angry. Angry at himself. Angry at the world. Angry at fate. But mostly, angry at himself for bringing you into this nightmare.

"No, it's not nothing," he growled, his voice low and gruff. "It's everything." You sighed. "Andrei.. it was worth it.. so many missions.. willingly going to the fucking gulag.. getting abducted and tortured during a mission.. fuck.. it was all for you.." you said. Your words hit him like a punch to the gut. Tortured. Abducted. Willingly going to the gulag. All for him. For the monster that he'd become.

"Я не достоин этого," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. 'I am not worthy of this.' You shook your head. "No, you are.. it was worth it.. cause I found you.." Your denial was like a knife twisting in his gut. Found me. Those words echoed in his mind. Over and over again. Like a mantra. Like a prayer. They were soothing. Comforting. They made him feel less alone. Less like a monster.

But they also filled him with guilt. With shame. With regret. Regret for turning you into this. For making you go through all of this. You hugged him once more. But this time it was more for your sake. You needed him just as much as he needed you. Your hug was like a lifeline. It pulled him out of the darkness. Out of the abyss. Even if only for a moment. It felt good. Too good. Dangerous almost.

But still, he allowed himself to enjoy it. To let himself be comforted. Because sometimes, you need to be weak. To let yourself be vulnerable. Especially when you've been hurt as much as he had.

The silence hung heavy in the air. Heavy with unspoken words. Unspoken regrets. Unspoken fears. It was comfortable. Almost peaceful. Almost. His thoughts kept drifting back to those moments. Moments where he was just... human. Not a monster. Not a killer. Just a man. A man who was scared. Who was lonely. Who missed someone. Someone who was sitting next to him right now. The silence was comforting. Familiar. The two of you were sitting on your bed, still in full uniform. "Want something more comfortable?" You asked quietly. Your offer hung in the air between them, a beacon of normalcy amidst the chaos. A simple question. An invitation to shed the weight of their uniforms, symbols of duty, and responsibility. He looked down at his clothes, then back up at you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Da," he murmured, standing up abruptly. He began to undress, peeling away the layers of his identity - the uniform, the medals, the badges. Each piece was thrown carelessly onto the floor until he stood before you in nothing but his underwear. You nodded and went to get something more comfortable for him. Coming back, you had an oversized t-shirt and a paid of sweatpants. Which reminded him of something.. fuck. Those were his clothes. His clothes before he joined whatever the fuck he had joined. "Here." You said, handing him the clothes before going to change to something more comfortable, yourself. Your words were like a punch in the gut. A reminder of who he used to be. Of the life he'd left behind. He took the clothes from your hands without saying anything. Slipping into them, he could almost pretend he was back there. Back home. Before the torture. Before the nightmares. Before the pain.

As he watched you change, he couldn't help but notice how natural it seemed. How comfortable. Like you belonged here. Like you were supposed to be here. With him. A man and a woman changed together like it was normal. But it didn't seem weird. It felt normal. It felt like the time before the military. The sight of you changing in front of him, so casual and unaffected, brought back memories. Memories of simpler times. Times before the military. Before the torture. Before the nightmares. Before the pain.

For a moment, he forgot about the scars. About the pain. About the guilt. He just saw you. Naked. Vulnerable. Human. And it was beautiful. It was perfect. The feeling of the soft fabric against his skin was comforting. Familiar. It was like putting on an old pair of shoes. Worn in. Broken in. Perfectly fitting. It was a part of him. Or rather, it was a part of who he used to be. Before. Before the torture. Before the nightmares. Before the pain.

As he sat back down on the bed, he couldn't help but notice how different things were. How strange it felt. Yet, somehow, it also felt right. As you took off your shirt, he could see all the scars. Everywhere. Even your perfectly round tits had scars of torture. Your body was a canvas of pain. Every inch of your skin told a story. A story of torture. Of suffering. Of resilience. But he wasn't looking at the scars. He was looking at you. At the way your body moved. The way your muscles shifted under your skin. The way your nipples hardened slightly in the cool air of the room.

It was a fucking turn-on. Despite everything. Despite the scars. Despite the pain. You blushed as he stared at you. "What are you looking at?" You asked softly, not realizing that he was hard as a rock under the sweatpants. His gaze lingered on your body, drinking in every detail. The curve of your hips. The swell of your breasts. The way your skin glowed in the dim light of the room. He was hard. Rock-hard. But he didn't move. Didn't speak. He just kept staring.

You were beautiful. Perfect. Untouched. And he wanted you. Wanted you more than he'd ever wanted anyone or anything. You noticed his hardness pressing against the material of the sweatpants. "Fuck, Andrei..." You mumbled, biting your lower lip. Your curse made him shiver. Made him want to reach out and touch you. Made him want to take you. Right there. On the bed. Against the wall. Anywhere. Just to feel you. To hear you moan. To taste you. Fuck, to taste you.

But he didn't move. Couldn't move. Not yet. "I need you..." You whispered, closing the distance between both of you. You leaned in and kissed him softly at first, but then with passion. Your confession broke the dam. The floodgates opened. He pulled you closer, crushing his lips against yours. His tongue darted out, exploring the warmth of your mouth. His hands roamed over your body, tracing the contours of your muscles. His fingers dug into your flesh, leaving marks.

And still, he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not now. Not when he finally had you. You moaned into his mouth as he explored your body with his hands. You pushed him onto the bed and straddled him, grinding your crotch against his hardness. The shift in positions only fueled his desire. Your weight on top of him, your body grinding against his, it was all too much. He groaned into your mouth, the sound muffled by your kiss. His hands found their way to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh.

He needed more. Needed to feel you. Needed to be inside you. His hands on your ass made you grind harder against his cock. You reached down and pulled down his pants, pulling out his hardness. You stroked it a few times, feeling it pulse in your hand. Your touch on his length made him gasp. Made him thrust up into your hand. He was hard. So fucking hard. Ready. Waiting. Wanting.

His hands found their way to your hips, gripping them tightly. He pulled you closer, aligning his length with your entrance. He was ready. More than ready. Your body was shaking with anticipation. You grinded against his cock, teasing yourself before slowly lowering yourself onto him. Inch by agonizing inch until you were fully seated on his lap. The sensation of you enveloping him was indescribable. He groaned, his head thrown back against the pillow. His hands gripped your hips tighter, guiding you to move. To ride him. To fuck him.

He was yours. All yours. You started moving on him, your body rocking against his. Each movement brought a new wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. You felt full. Satiated. Complete.

And you liked it. God, how you liked it. Each roll of your hips sent jolts of pleasure shooting straight to his dick. He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. All he could do was feel. Feel you. Feel your body moving on top of him. Feel your walls clenching around him. Your movements became faster, more desperate. You were chasing that climax, that release. You wanted it so badly. Needed it. Craved it. His breathing grew ragged, and his grip on your hips tightened. He could feel his climax approaching, like a freight train bearing down on him. It was inevitable. Imminent.

And he wanted you to feel it. Wanted you to feel him. Your movements became erratic as your orgasm approached. You clenched your teeth, trying to hold back the tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume you. But it was no use. It was too powerful. Too intense. "Andrei..!" You moaned as you reached your climax. Your cry of ecstasy pushed him over the edge. His own orgasm ripped through him, making his vision blur and his breath hitch. He threw his head back, his jaw clenched tight as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

And when it was over, he was left panting. Left spent. Left sated. You collapsed onto him, your body trembling from the intensity of your orgasms. You laid there, catching your breath while your body slowly returned to normal. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. His body was covered in sweat, but he didn't care. He just held you. Held you tight. And for once, he felt... complete. You lay there in silence, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking. You snuggled against him, your body fitting perfectly against his. You closed your eyes, contentment washing over you. For once, he let himself relax. Let himself enjoy the moment. Enjoy you. His arms tightened around you instinctively, as if afraid you'd disappear if he let go. You nuzzled into his neck, inhaling deeply. His scent filled your senses, making you want to stay here forever. You felt safe. Comforted. Loved. His heart pounded in his chest, echoing in his ears. He could feel you nuzzling into his neck, could feel your breaths against his skin. And it felt... right. Perfect, even.

For once, he allowed himself to believe that maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.

[astrologydayz]

ASTEROIDS IN A SYNASTRY CHART - ROMANTIC/SEXUAL RELATIONSHIP❤️

A MAN'S Sun conjunct/trine/quintile a WOMAN'S Groom asteroid - 5129 = she sees him as the "ultimate" husband here with Sun. His conscious ego match up with what she’s looking 4 in a husband! The way he can make her day brighter, just by him being him, is something she desperately wants2keep for the rest of her life. He can be her a saviour a lot2! His confidence/the way he shines, is something she'll always BE SO FUCKING AMAZED BY!

A MAN'S Moon conjunct/trine/quintile a WOMAN'S Groom asteroid - 5129 = The way he bare his feelings out2her, is something she's so fucking amazed&touched by. The way he open his heart, without holding anything back is something she NEEDS in a husband❤️. She sees him as zaddy material, because of the way he "shows up4her"- emotional security! Look at sign/s/houses&both natal charts 2 see how this will play out exactly❤️.

A MAN'S Mercury conjunct/trine/quintile a WOMANS'S Groom asteroid - 5129 = hubby material, when it comes2 his voice, his mind/mentality, the way he talks&communicates/writing - speaking abilities/his hands&arms2✋🏼💪🏼. He can be her best friend2, someone she can go to with anything, without the fear of being judged! Their minds connect, in a way she's never experienced with anyone before🧡.

SUN conjunct/trine/quintile LUST asteroid - 4386 = Lust person is sexually attracted to Sun person, because of Sun's ego/because of the way Sun person puts themselves 1st/bc of their "nonchalant attitude"! Sun can be some kind of protecter, when it comes 2 Lust person, & lust person finds that hot af! Sun usually won't share what's theirs/or what they're "smashing". Sun person lighted up Lust persons world, after they started a sexual relationship!👄

MOON conjunct/trine/quintile LUST asteroid - 4386 = Lust is sexually attracted to moon, because of who they are on an emotional level/their feelings, & because they provide a safe space4 lust 2 do whatever they want 2 sexually, & still have them feeling comfortable af while doing it. Lust can go inane with what kind of Lust, they have for 4 moon person🫣. they just can't get enough. Crazyyy orgasms4Lust2!! Lust won't just let the Moon person out of their sight. ONE OF THE BEST ASPECTS 2 HAVE IN SYNASTRY, IN MY OPINION!

MERCURY conjunct/trine/quintile LUST asteroid - 4386 = Lust person is sexually attracted 2 Mercury person because of the way their voice sounds, the way they talk + dirty talk included, the way they think - their mentality/. Mercury can make lust cum quick, with their hands/fingers & tongue!👅 Makes sense cuz 99% of the time = Lust is sexually attracted 2 Mercury's arms/hands/&fingers!

VENUS conjunct/trine/quintile KISS asteroid - 8267 = Venus LOVES the way the asteroid person uses their mouth&And tongue 2 create long, loving makeout sessions between them, with a feeling of sacredness hanging in the air afterwards. They kiss Venus with so much care, &moves with so many gentle movements, that it makes Venus question their past kisses. They never knew what a REAL kiss was, until they met the asteroid person💋.

Mars conjunct/trine/quintile KISS asteroid - 8267 = Asteroid person wants 2 be rough with Mars person! Rough makeout sessions, where they give each other marks/half of their apartment ruined/destroy each others clothes while kissing😍. Asteroid person being aggressive towards the Mars person, biting their lip, biting their neck&body - won't stop before they leave something behind - marks💅.

Jupiter conjunct/trine/quintile KISS asteroid - 8267 = Jupiter "teaching"/helping the asteroid person with how 2 kiss/if not how, then helping them out somehow. Jupiter can be the asteroid persons 1st real "kiss". Jupiter teaching them everything they've learned. Kiss person being taught things on a whole other level🥇. "New level unlocked" sirr🤓.

VENUS conjunct/trine/quintile "DOMINIONA" asteroid - 24899 = Asteroid person will always be the dominating force in the relationship, no matter what. Like taking the decisions & so on. Venus can try & butt in, but with no prevail. Venus can actually like this. That they can lean on the asteroid person in&out of bed. Venus know they're protected by Asteroid person, &that's what really matters2them. Asteroid person can love using candle dripping, bondage, cuffs, toys and stuff like that on Venus! But in a way more "loving" way than with Mars, Saturn, or Pluto - examples🕯💋.

MARS conjunct/trine/quintile "DOMINIONA" asteroid - 24899 = A constant battle between two dicks trying to overgrow each other😭😂. But in a good way actually. Asteroid person will always try 2 dominate Mars, but Mars can't be dominated, so they'll dominate back. But asteroid person can't be dominated either, so they'll keep on having this "battle" about who's the "strongest & baddest", but this battle is also what keeps the relationship so goddamn passionate & alive. Big fights, but violent make up sex after. They can use chains, paddles, "flogging", even violence/hard bdsm 2pleasure themselves, & each other𓀃⛓️.

GALATEA asteroid - 74 conjunct Vertex = secret love triangles, that will be brought 2 Vertex person by the Galatea person🙄.

ALMA asteroid - 390 conjunct Vertex = They'll bring Vertex person a soulmate/or they can be that soulmate. Look at everything!!!💜

DNA asteroid - 55555/child asteroid - 4580 conjunct Vertex = Happy mother's/father's day baby!!!🤳

THANKS4READING!!💙

Appreciate u, always💜.

[alphajocklover]

Hello. Was wondering if you could help me. See I've always dreamed to have a muscular body with slightly hairy pecs and an easy going attitude. Problem is I can't put up muscles on my body. Sure, after a year of sport i lost 12 kg, but i just don't see any muscular definition showing. Here's where you can help me. Last day at the gym a guy came to me and said he could help me with my training. Saying that all i needed was a bit more sport knowdledge to kick the muscle memory in. I said yes because a personnal trainer is pretty expensive, then he smiled and pushed me against the mirror. I blacked out from the pain and woke up just a few minutes ago. He is looking at me with a weird smile. Help me!

I can’t believe it. It shouldn’t be possible, I mean, it literally shouldn’t be possible. From what you’re telling me, I have to assume you’ve been pushed into a Retsam Mirror. They’re very rare, in fact until today I thought that the only one currently not shattered into dust was in my Uncles garage. It shouldn’t be possible that you found one… but it looks like you did. Or more accurately your new ‘personal trainer’ did. You probably should have been more suspicious of him, but it’s not that unusual for a jock to offer help to another less experienced gym goer. Still, if you had been more suspicious, well… it could have saved you.

You’re probably wondering what exactly is happening. While, I’ll just say it outright: You’re inside the mirror. The one he pushed you up against? You’re inside it. The jock who you were talking to used the magical mirror to switch you with your reflection. I know that raises a lot of questions. How is that possible? Are reflections sentient? How do you get out? While, the answers to each of those questions are, in order, I don’t know, I don’t know, and you can’t. You’re stuck. Worse than stuck actually. You’re a reflection.

You can probably feel yourself getting to your feet and smiling, with no control over it. You can probably feel yourself, your other self, flexing his fingers experimentally, an almost manic grin on your face. Now that you’re the reflection, your old reflection is in the real world and has its own will. Well… kind of. Reflections are very impressionable for about an hour after they get swapped. And from what your trainer is whispering in your, I mean his, ear… it seems like he’s using that little quirk to turn your other self into a total jock.

You’ll be unaffected though. Mentally at least. You’ll still be you. But you’ll be forced to do whatever the other you does. So, now that he’s super into working out, you’ll work out too. As he gains muscles and hair all over his body, so will you. When he cockily flexes, you’ll be staring right back at him. Over the next few months you’ll finally turn into the jock of your dreams. I just regret you’ve lost your free will in the process. I hope you’re happy, though honestly I have no way to tell. Reflections don’t talk.

[koshkamartell]

Chapter 1

chapter warnings: pervy!Joel, pervy!Tommy, slut shaming, alcohol consumption, mention of drug use, masturbation.

Joel Miller was frustrated.

Sure, he was almost always grumpy. He usually wore a scowl on his face and he was never short of a biting remark for anyone who dared annoy him. People knew not to bother him or engage with him unless absolutely necessary because of his quick temper.

But the frustration he had been feeling lately was more than just a facet of his surly temperament. There was an obvious reason as to why Joel was meaner than usual - although he wasn't completely cognisant of it himself - and it was because he was sexually frustrated. Completely and infuriatingly sexually frustrated. His mind and body had been forced into survival mode for so long that anything done for the sake of pleasure or joy was frivolous, almost incomprehensible. Even after settling in Jackson Joel could never quite let his guard down. He hadn't made friends or even entertained the thought of dating, and so Joel continued to remain repressed, tightly wound, and irritable.

His younger brother, Tommy Miller, was adept at navigating the storms of his older brother's character and had been Joel's main source of support in the town. Tommy understood the depth of pain Joel had endured and survived throughout the apocalypse and therefore forgave Joel's attitude to a certain degree. Until one day it had all been too much to tolerate.

Joel and Tommy had been working on a carpenting job repairing a set of porch steps for one of the houses. Joel had accidentally hit his thumb with the hammer he was using, causing him to throw the tool across the porch and snarl like an angry dog. Once Joel stopped swearing and blaming Tommy for distracting him and making him strike his own hand, the two brothers walked over to the Tipsy Bison for a drink.

"Ya know, you're actin' like a real asshole lately," Tommy grumbled inbetween sips of beer. "Even more than usual."

Joel just scoffed and took a shot of his whiskey, but purposely avoided meeting Tommy's eyes. He hated when his brother was right.

"Maybe you wouldn't be so cranky if you were gettin' some action," Tommy mused with a teasing little smirk.

Joel frowned at him, his cheeks tinging pink with embarrassment. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, man. You're moody as hell. Wound up tighter than a damn rattlesnake, tryin'a pick fights over nothin', always complainin'." Tommy shakes his head. "Got too much pent up energy. Nothin' a good fuck wouldn't fix."

"Well, maybe I wouldn't be if people around here weren't so goddamn incompetent," Joel snaps back, but there's no malice in his voice. He feels embarrassed and exposed by Tommy's observation. "Got nothin' to do with....that."

Tommy chuckles and tilts his head slightly to the side, his brown eyes shining with a hint of mischievous. "When's the last time you had a woman?"

"None of your business," Joel mutters, turning away from Tommy.

Truthfully Joel cannot remember the last time he laid with a woman - he knows it would have been with Tess, years ago back in the QZ, but he had very little memory of those unremarkable instances of physical closeness. Those times with Tess were not ones of intimacy but rather opportunities for both of them to fuck away their stress and pain. There had never been any desire for more emotion or connection, atleast not on Joel's part.

"Well, maybe it's about time you get yourself back in the game, big brother. Whole new world of datin' and different kinds of people now." Tommy's voice is softer, more earnest now as he eyes Joel.  "Whatever you're lookin' for, it's out there. Romance or just some company."

"Ain't lookin' for anythin', Tom," Joel mumbles before downing another shot of whiskey.

"Okay," Tommy concedes with an offhanded shrug. "Well, if you're ever interested in blowin' off some steam, I know someone who could help."

Joel shoots him a confused look. Tommy's lips quirk into a smug smirk and he leans over the table to quietly answer Joel's unspoken curiosity. Joel instinctively copies his action, turning his head slightly so he can hear better through his good ear.

"There's a woman in town, lives by herself. A widow. Real easy to get into. A few of the guys I know pay her visits, get what they need without any bullshit."

The realisation of what Tommy is insinuating hits Joel with full force. His face contorts with disdain.

"A whore?" Joel hisses lowly, his eyes narrowing on Tommy's.

"Not exactly," Tommy admits. "Don't have to pay her or anythin'. Just take her on a date or some shit. Hell, I think after a while the guys stopped even botherin' with dates. They just go there to fuck her. I hear she gets real horny, like a bitch in heat or somethin'."

Joel's hand tightens around the shot glass on the table. He's disgusted by what Tommy has said, appalled to think of a bunch of men using a woman so carelessly, that a woman would even be so desperate as to allow herself to be used. He's repulsed by the whole thing. Yet there is a tugging sensation in his lower belly that he cannot ignore.

A whore in Jackson.

Joel may be disgusted, but he's also undeniably aroused and intrigued.

I hear she gets horny, like a bitch in heat.

Joel's cock twitches in his jeans. He clears his throat and leans back into the booth, shaking his head. It is disgusting. Filthy. There's no way he would ever meet a woman like that.

Tommy grins and nods his head, the idea already set into motion. "I can set it up for ya."

"Don't," Joel growls. "Told ya, I ain't interested. Especially not in some whore."

That's the end of the conversation and nothing more is mentioned about you. Until two weeks later, when an unexpected meeting happens.

It's been a rough day on patrol for Joel. First, he was paired up with a rookie ranger who was too anxious to steer his own goddamn horse confidently. The rookie almost ended up getting caught in one of the traps set to catch raiders, then they accidentally took the safety off their rifle and fired it into the air. Joel was furious and it took all his restraint not to kill the guy. When they returned to Jackson Joel stalked straight over to Tommy's and Maria's house and demanded the man never work a patrol shift again.

The effects of stress consistently manifested itself in the same ways for Joel; the muscles in his neck and shoulders would tense up and his back would ache, his jaw would clench and his hands would fidget. Today all the chaos from the day weighed heavily on Joel and had taken a toll on his body. Tommy could see the suffering in Joel's eyes and felt bad; after all, it was his responsibility to organise work duties regarding patrolling and thus he felt partly to blame. Although he hadn't predicted any potential issues when he had assigned Joel and the rookie together, Tommy still wanted to make it up to Joel. He tried his best to assuage Joel's ire by dragging him over to the Tipsy Bison for some drinks.

Joel had initially resisted entertaining Tommy's idea but after an hour of playing several rounds of darts and pool, he was actually beginning to loosen up and relax. The alcohol mellowed his mood and eased the agony in his lower back, granting him enough relief to enjoy himself. He even made a bit of small talk with a couple of Tommy's friends that had ended up joining them.

At some stage during the evening Joel was standing in the corner of the bar casually watching one of the pool games. Tommy sidled up next to him with two glasses of whiskey and passed one to Joel.

"Judgin' by your face, I'd say this wasn't such a bad idea after all," Tommy grinned.

"Guess I was overdue for a night out," Joel admitted as he accepted the drink. "But kickin' your ass at darts always makes me feel better."

Tommy barked a laugh and clapped his hand on Joel's shoulder. "Fuck you, man. Ya only won the last round outta sheer luck."

"Bullshit," Joel smirked. "You lost because you got distracted flirtin' with Priscilla."

At the mention of her name, the brothers both looked over past the bar to try and get a glimpse of the kitchen area where Priscilla, the waitress at the Tipsy Bison that night, had disappeared to earlier. There was no sign of the red head woman who had been batting her eyelashes and giggling at Tommy, but only Clyde, the older heavyset bartender who knew all the regular patrons by name.

"Can't help when a woman wants a piece of me," Tommy chuckled playfully.

Joel rolled his eyes. It was typical of Tommy to be a little arrogant when it came to women. Joel remembered the days pre outbreak when Tommy would be reeling in one night stands on a regular basis (when he wasn't getting into drunken fist fights). He had known just what to say to charm a woman, how to apply an effective balance of flirtation and detachment in order to pique her interest. It seemed Tommy's skills were still alive and well even after the outbreak. His older brother, however, had always been the opposite - less wild and carefree, more responsible and mature, not at all interested in something as hollow as a one time sexual encounter.

How and why Maria managed to pin Tommy down and marry him was a mystery to Joel. Although he didn't particularly like the woman, it made Joel uncomfortable to witness Tommy flirt with another women when he was married to Maria.

"Well ya better quit it before Maria finds out and gives you a piece of her mind." Joel warned. "Sure she'd deck you one before you could even come up with some lame excuse as to why your hand was on that girl's ass just now."

Tommy snorted scornfully and downed a mouthful of whiskey. "What she don't know won't hurt her. Besides, a man's got needs."

Joel just shook his head. It wasn't his business, anyway. He was about to challenge Tommy to another game of pool when Tommy suddenly nudged his side with his elbow.

"Hey, hey, look," Tommy whispered hurriedly to Joel. "That's the woman I was tellin' you about."

Tommy titled his head toward a figure that had just strolled in. Joel followed Tommy's line of vision and when his eyes landed on you for the very first time, his heart skipped a beat.

You took a seat on a stool at the bar, shifting to smooth your dress under your ass. You were wearing a simple linen dress with a jacket that gave no indication of what was hiding underneath, and you had worn black boots on your feet. The outfit was mundane, nothing special. Modest is the term his old fashioned southern mother would've used, bless her heart.

Although Joel hadn't concocted much of an idea of how you might have looked inside his head, he was surprised by your appearance. Perhaps he expected you to be more provocatively dressed, with your physical assets on display, enticing whoever might choose to go home with you that night.

Idiot, he chided himself.

When you turned your head at a certain angle Joel was able to get a glimpse of your face. He was struck by how pretty your features were. Even from the distance of where he sat at the booth, he could see you were beautiful. No wonder you had men trying to pursue you - getting into bed with you would be a fucking dream.

Throughout the next half an hour Joel surreptitiously watched you as you sat alone at the bar while you nursed a glass of beer and occasionally chatted with the bartender. You seemed comfortable and confident, a sweet little smile etched on your mouth. But Joel noticed the way your shoulders sagged a little, how your fingers toyed with a bracelet on your delicate wrist. These minute details signalled that you weren't as carefree as you wanted to appear, that maybe you were somewhat nervous in this surrounding.

Why was he so interested to understand more when he doesnt even know you? Get a fucking life, Joel internally reprimands himself. You don't even know this woman.

It isn't like he would ever meet you, either. There's no way in hell he would let Tommy introduce the two of you. He had no intention of approaching you, either. He was not going to walk up and introduce himself and try make conversation with you. What the hell would he say, anyway?

"Hi, my name is Joel Miller. I heard you're an easy lay and love to fuck."

No. Joel was resigned to just watching you instead, like a strange voyeur who didn't even know your name. He justified his little secret surveillance stunt as a means of distraction from the obnoxious conversation around him, from the annoyance of Tommy and his crew laughing loudly and talking shit. He was content just to observe.

Until another man swaggered across the bar room floor and made his way over to you.

And who the hell is this guy?

Joel's hawkish gaze burned into the man as he watched him approach you, leaning against the bar with an arrogant grin on his face.

Is this one of your regulars? Have you been waiting for him to show?

The man came close to your face and said something to you, but Joel couldn't read his lips from so far away. You jerked back and turned your body slightly to the left, away from him, a clear rejection. The man didn't seem detered by your change in posture, though; he stroked his fingers over your shoulder and continued talking, even though you flinched from his touch.

Everything about him exuded a sleazy energy that incited a simmering anger in Joel's stomach. You weren't interested in his guy at all but he just wasn't giving up. Even though you pulled away and shook your head, he leaned closer and whispered something in your ear. Whatever he said had its intended affect; Joel saw your face crumple before you hurriedly slipped off of the bar stool and scampered out of the bar. The man remained, unmoving but chuckling to himself with what looked like cruel satisfaction.

What the hell just happened?

Joel didn't even think before he stood up from his seat and strode toward the saloon style doors, like an invisible magnet being pulled to follow you. He did not stop to question just why he felt an overwhelming need to chase after you and check that you are alright, for he was impelled in such a way that he himself cannot fathom.

Joel exited the bar and followed your silhouette into the darkness of the evening, forgetting all about Tommy and the others.

You are not even half way down the main street before Joel quickly catches up to you with long strides of his legs. He thinks to reach out and touch your arm to get your attention but he doesn't want to scare you. Instead, he approaches your side but stays a respectful distance from you.

"Excuse me ma'am, are you alright?" He asks gently.

You stop walking and turn to face him, your eyes wide and brimmed with unshed tears. Now he is up close and can see your face in more detail, Joel feels an immediate pang of attraction to you. He is momentarily startled by how your eyes shine under the light of the streetlamp.

Pretty.

You instinctively take a step back and eye him warily, your brow furrowing slightly.

"I'm sorry," you reply, voice a little croaky with restrained emotion. "Have we met?"

Oh, that voice. You sound like a damn angel.

Joel swallows thickly and gives a shake of his head. "No, we haven't. My name's Joel. Joel Miller. I'm Tommy's brother."

You blink and sniff, a pathetic little sound, then give him your name in return. "Hi Joel. Yes, I'm okay."

It's a lie, Joel knows. You aren't crying but it is obvious that you aren't quite okay. Joel clears his throat and stands with his hands on his hips, suddenly feeling awkward. He doesn't know what to say, but he's also curious about the interaction with the man at the bar.

"I, uhm, I saw that guy in there, looked like he was botherin' ya."

You purse your lips and glance down at your shoes. He studies your body language intently as you wrap an arm around your middle and scuff at the ground with the tip of your boot. "Yeah, he's not a very nice person." You respond, low and soft. "But it's okay. I mean, I'm okay."

Joel nods. For some reason he feels compelled to ask for more details, to know just what was said to you to illicit your reaction and make you run away like that, but he holds his tongue. You are strangers, after all.

"Um, okay then," you nod back curtly, feeling just as awkward as Joel. "Thank you. Goodnight."

"Wait, please." Joel inwardly cringes at the sound of his own voice, how his request sounds more like a plea than anything else. He hasn't spoken this many words to a woman for a long time and he feels incredibly self conscious, but the chivalrous part of him doesn't feel right that you are walking home alone when you're hurting. "You want me to walk you back home?"

His offer seems to immediately sour the interaction between you two. Something flashes in your eyes and a sound escapes your lips, something between a sigh and a scoff. There's an invisible wall suddenly put up, a palpable boundary that radiates from the change in your energy and the furrow of your brow. You are angry, annoyed. Insulted.

"No, I'm good thanks, Joel." Your clipped reply comes as you whip around and resume your journey home. You mutter something to yourself that Joel cannot catch. He stays frozen to the spot for a few seconds, slightly bewildered by what has just happened. He soon springs into action, that possessive pull urging him toward you once more, and he swiftly follows you again. But this time he does dare to reach out to touch you, gently placing his hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, whoa. What's goin' on? Did I say somethin' wrong?"

You fling around to meet his gaze and glare up at him. "You can cut the chivalrous act," you snap. "Because it isn't happening, not tonight. Got it?"

Joel isn't discouraged by your defensive attitude. In fact he finds your assertiveness makes you even more alluring. Maybe you have a little more bite than what your appearance suggests. 

"What are you talkin' about?" Joel asks softly, his hooded eyes staring into yours.

"Yeah, right," you snort. "Like you're really not pretending to be concerned about me just so you can get in my pants."

The accusation hits him like an arrow to the chest and his mouth hangs open in shock. The insinuation that his kindness is a only pretence to acquire something sexual from you offends him immensely; it is his turn to feel indignant now.

"Excuse me?" Joel growls out. "I was just makin' sure that creep didn't step outta line!"

His reaction visibly takes you by surprise; the look of resentment quickly disappears from your eyes and your features soften, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth as you listen to his words. You almost look sheepish.

"I got no such intentions," Joel states with a shake of his head. "'M sorry to bother you, g'night."

He's about to turn away when you suddenly reach out and grasp onto his wrist, giving it a small squeeze before quickly letting it go. He freezes in place at the contact, momentarily dazed by your touch. He can't remember the last time a woman touched him and the whole situation feels surreal. He clears his throat and waits for you to speak, too embarrassed to meet your eye now, opting instead to stare down at his boots.

"Joel, no, I'm sorry," you sigh heavily. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just...well, I don't really have many friends here. And sometimes people get the wrong idea about me."

The wrong idea. What could that mean?

Despite not knowing, Joel feels a twinge of empathy for you. He is no stranger to judgement or being on the receiving end of someone's preconceived prejudice. He's reminded of Maria's hesitancy to accept him in the community when he first showed up, how some of the residents refused to even look his way, the whispers around town that he was a cold blooded murderer who would reek havoc on Jackson. Deep down it still hurts him to think about.

"It's alright." Joel murmers. "I'm sorry, too. Probably scared ya a bit, just comin' up outta no where."

You hum softly in agreement. "It's alright, really. It's nice that someone cares enough to ask."

A surge of relief rushes through Joel to see you are no longer upset. There is something about your smile, the tiny upturn of the corners of your mouth, that gives Joel a strange thrill of gratification. No one has ever had such an effect on him before; no one has ever made Joel want to prove his quality of character, to show his genunity to.

"Still wanna walk me, or have you changed your mind?" You inquire a little teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

Joel can't help but let the hint of a smile ghost his lips. "Still happy to. If that's what you want."

"I'll lead the way."

Under your guidance, Joel chaperones you through several streets across town to the area where you live. The journey takes less than ten minutes and neither of you talk much. Your energy is refreshingly relaxed and calm, and you seem satisfied to just gently hum and occasionally stare up to admire the twinkling stars in the sky. Joel, however, is silent, his jaw clenching with tension; his mind is preoccupied with the echo of Tommy's voice.

They just go there to fuck her.

That is certainly not what Joel's goal is tonight, yet he cannot shake that low, sly intonation of Tommy's word from rattling around inside his head. Just how many guys have walked to your home using this very same path that Joel walks on now?

But something just isn't clicking for Joel. If you were such a slut, why were you so affronted by the mere possibility of him expecting more from you? From what Tommy told him, you should be more than willing to have a man ask to take you home.

Maybe Tommy was one of the people who had the wrong idea about you.

"It's just over there," your voice broke through his thoughts, directing him to the turn down the next lane.

Your neighbourhood was one of the more secluded residential parts of the commune, primarily comprised of cottages and small houses. Joel follows you halfway down the street to where your own cottage is located, nestled between an empty plot on one side and a modest looking house on the other side. The whole quarter looks vastly different to his own large two storey home and the others that surround it. Joel's neighbourhood is without a doubt more aesthetically pleasing and closer to the town centre, making it alot easier to access whatever supplies or services he needs to.

Maybe it was just a shit luck of the draw, Joel thinks. Families always take priority in regards to housing, after all.

The first thing he notices about your cottage is the bed of flowers in the meagre garden of your front yard. It is charming, a scant feature of beauty in an otherwise unremarkable habitat. He vaguely wonders what your garden looks like in the light of day, if the flowers are even more vibrant than they are under the lone street lamp on the sidewalk.

"Well, this is me," you say softly, trailing up to the porch. Joel grunts in response, lingering a little behind you.

The exterior of your cottage appears weathered and in need of a coat of paint. Joel doubts the foundation is durable enough to withstand the cold Wyoming weather. He makes a mental note to talk to the committee about it at the next meeting.

You turn to face Joel and notice him eyeing the broken swing that hangs pathetically on your porch. "It's always been like that." You grimace. "I've been meaning to get it fixed, but it always slips my mind."

"I can do it." Joel blurts out without thinking. "I can fix it."

"What? Really?" You raise your brows, surprised.

Joel nods resolutely. He approaches the swing and bends down to examine the splintered planks, running a hand along the frame to check for more cracks. "Won't take long to do. Just need some new wood, maybe a coat of paint."

"You know how to do that kinda stuff?" You question curiously.

"Mm-hm. Was a contractor back in the day," Joel murmers. "Can do it whenever you want."

"How's this Sunday?" You offer almost immediately.

Joel's head snaps up to look at you, eyes wide, briefly stupefied by your eagerness. You give him a grin and a little shrug, and Joel feels a tinge of pink bloom over the apples of his cheeks.

"Uhm, yeah, okay," Joel clears his throat. "Sunday mornin' alright with you?"

"Perfect." You gift him a sweet smile of appreciation. "Well, you know where I live. Thanks for walking me home."

Joel just nods as he straightens back upright, his eyes shifting to avert his gaze  back to the street. "G'night."

"Goodnight, Joel," you all but purr before opening your door and slipping inside.

Joel meanders back to his own house, feeling dazed. He recounts his interaction with you over and over in his mind, recreating the nuances of your body language, the silky lilt of your voice, the way that firey sparkle danced in your eyes when you challenged him. Your words replay over and over, the sound of his name floating from your mouth, your barely audible humming.

When Joel gets home he fucks his fist until he climaxes with a startling intensity and his warm cum spills over his pillowy stomach.

[familyabolisher]

Would you elaborate on why you don't really believe in addictive personalities? I find that a useful descriptor for myself that reminds me how easy it is for me to get into unhealthy behavior patterns. I have to fully stay away from tiktok and gacha games(I will never go gambling) because I know I can't trust myself with them. I also have to be REALLY careful with alcohol, etc. I have adhd and bi-polar, and I like having a phrase that describes my experience without being too over-medicalized and relating everything to diagnoses. I'm curious why you don't like it as a construct/whatever your opinion is!

personal explanatory power is one thing and i wouldn’t begrudge you that but i don’t really see how it has any materialist usage; and ultimately, like, i’m a marxist, any way in which i evaluate a framework that’s supposed to explain something in the world has to come from the assumption that the world is best explained through historical materialism. ‘addictive personality’ with no further elaboration is an idealist claim which obfuscates crucial points of discourse around addiction and the conditions that give rise to it—and indeed the conditions which cause us to name one substance or action as ‘addictive’ over another in the first place. addiction is materially punished; through social stigma, but also through housing discrimination, workplace discrimination, policing & incarceration, psychiatry, the sorts of forces that add up to eventually facilitate the conditions of social murder. we only have to look as far as the war on drugs to understand how ‘addiction,’ the consumption and circulation of substances regarded as ‘addictive,’ is not a prediscursive state but one that can be leveraged to violently enforce conditions of hegemony and quell insurgence through carceralism and social murder. i also just heavily distrust psychology as a field and certainly don’t buy these appeals to an essential self as a self who ‘has’ xyz tendencies as though xyz tendencies (such as the traits given in the five-factor model which is applied to ‘explain’ a predisposition to addiction) are anything other than postdiscursive descriptors we’ve imbued with meaning relative to a postdiscursive normalcy. i think psychological theorising around personality tends to obfuscate materialist frameworks in favour of methodologies which presume and reify normativity (eg. the claim that those more vulnerable to ‘addictive personalities’ have a stronger tendency towards ‘social alienation’ and ‘nonconformity’ without defining what constitutes ‘alienation’ and ‘conformity’ in the first place—as though personality traits simply appear out of thin air).

as we’ve seen dozens of times, “addiction” is a slippery term easily wielded towards reactionary ends. “porn addiction” is a line taken by anti-sex work radfems; “food addiction” is infamously unscientific and preying on cultural predispositions towards fatphobia; “internet addiction” is similarly flimsy and frequently deployed in theories of cultural degeneration. this doesn’t mean that the clusters of behaviours we term “addiction” aren’t “real” in the sense that some people do develop dependencies on particular substances, but that the term can be used to draw connections between the reactionary attitude held towards addiction & its attendant connotations (of infantilisation, justified removal of autonomy, incarceration, psychiatric intervention, and so on) and whatever the wielder wants to malign (porn, food, using the internet). if we reify the idea of there being an ontological state within ourselves by which we are more or less prone to “addiction,” we by implication act against the necessity of interrogating what is meant by “addiction” and why it is being invoked in the first place; we also place all our explanatory eggs, so to speak, in the basket of the individual cast as “addicted,” rather than turning our attention towards the source of the “addictive” substance or object and its material origins + usage.

so it bears asking what we’re obscuring and what we’re facilitating when we give legitimacy to the idea of an ‘addictive personality’ in the public discourse, which is what i meant when i said that the term has no materialist explanatory power for me—casting someone in the role of an addict, even if only in the hypothetical, allows others to enforce the stigmas that such a role entails, through, for example, infantilisation, denial of autonomy, and reluctance to treat the individual’s behaviour as worthy of respect, compassion, and mature response. it creates a telos out of addiction under conditions wherein addiction means incarceration (literal or psychiatric), discrimination, ostracisation, everything i just laid out in the first paragraph. it makes addiction into a fundamentally individualist discourse which must therefore have individualist solutions, rather than a complex nexus of social conditions and discourses that we can describe and then fight against.

[sexyandhedonistic]

The Art of Successful Prayer

How to Avail Yourself of the State Akin to Sleep

"Prayer is the art of yielding to the wish and not the forcing of the wish. Whenever your feeling is in conflict with your wish, feeling will be the victor. The dominant feeling invariably expresses itself. Prayer must be without effort. In attempting to fix an attitude of mind which is denied by the senses, effort is fatal.

You should awaken within you the feeling that you are and have that which heretofore you desired to be and possess. This is easily done by contemplating the joy that would be yours were your objective an accomplished fact, so that you live and move and have your being in the feeling that your wish is realized."

I. Intro.

In this post, I will guide you through the procedure of using the state akin to sleep to retrieve the feeling of the wish fulfilled. The state akin to sleep is a state of relaxation and receptivity akin to the feeling attained just before falling asleep in which you are able to shut out the limitations of the objective world and obtain reality of the subjective state. The drowsiness of this state facilitates the procedure of persuading yourself to believe that you are that which you desire to be because minimal effort is required to direct your attention towards the wish fulfilled. If you feel the wish fulfilled, you will live in the end and if you live in the end, your assumptions will harden into fact.

II. How to do it:

"If your world would change, determine what it would look like; then construct a scene which would imply you are there. If your mental construction comes close to your fulfilled desire, your little daydream will become a fact!" / "If the suggestion is given with conviction and confidently accepted by the operator as true, then you have the ideal setting for a successful prayer." - Brazen Impudence / Prayer, The Art of Believing Ch. 4

The first step is to define your objective. Have a clear idea of what it is you would like to be (or be in possession of).

Next, ask yourself, “what does the end of that goal look like?” For example, if you would like to manifest a prestigious job opportunity, you’d be congratulated on it. If you’d like to manifest a change in appearance, you would receive compliments (It doesn’t need to include another person, but you may find it more helpful in order to feel it more real). Whatever the end looks like, it must always be an event that implies its fulfillment, that it is done. This is the wish fulfilled (more on that later).

Get into a comfortable position. You can lay down or sit upright, it doesn’t matter, do whatever feels most comfortable.

Relax. You can do some breathing exercises, listen to music, have a warm drink, whatever it is that makes you relax. 

Induce a moderate degree of drowsiness where you can still concentrate on the wish fulfilled, but be sure to not feel too drowsy where you find it difficult to focus. When you feel like you could move but you don’t want to (because you’re too comfortable), that’s when you’ll know you’re in the state akin to sleep.

Construct a scene that implies the fulfillment of your desire by making elsewhere here and then now, then feel it real by incorporating your senses into it and imagine yourself being present within your imaginal scene from your perspective. Confine your scene to a single action. If your scene implies that you have received wonderful news, do not wander off in your visualization by doing a thousand irrelevant things afterwards, simply stick to the congratulations and mentally feel yourself being present in your scene. Repeat the scene until it takes on the tones of reality. [A tip from Edward Art: Focus on feeling it real (feeling the wish fulfilled) first and then the sensory aspects of your scene will follow]

If you do this right and you’re able to shut out your senses and concentrate on that single sensation of fulfillment. You will actually feel as though it is all actually happening at this very moment, as if you are there presently. When you choose to exit the imaginal scene, you will quite literally feel surprised at the fact that you are back in the comfort of your home and not where you were a minute ago.

"As soon as man assumes the feeling of his wish fulfilled, his fourth-dimensional self finds ways for the attainment of this end, discovers methods for its realization" - Remain Faithful to Your Idea

III. The lullaby method

"If you cannot concentrate on an act, if you cannot snuggle into your chair and believe the chair is elsewhere, just as though elsewhere were here, then do this: Reduce the idea, condense it to a single, simple phrase. Whatever the phrase is, let it imply that the assumption is true, that it is concrete, that it is already a fact and you know it." - Assumptions Harden Into Fact

If you find it difficult to focus on a scene and feel it real or if you simply cannot conceptualize what the end would even look like, follow steps 1 through 4 and do the following:

Condense the fulfillment to three words or less and repeat them over and over again until your mind is dominated by the single sensation of thankfulness. Meditate on this phrase until you accept it as a fact.

Something that helped me understand the lullaby method was the following analogy: Think of a moment where you were repeating a word to yourself over and over again until it no longer sounded like a real word. The lullaby method is almost like that except in the opposite direction. Instead of repeating your three words until they don’t make sense, you repeat them until you are consumed by the acceptance of them, as if they do make sense. 

Examples of three words that imply the end:

I made it, I passed, I got accepted, I found it, they said yes, I won, I am (beautiful, healed, employed, successful), thank you, it is done, it’s finished, isn’t it wonderful?, I AM

IV. Revision

If your goal is to revise an incident, you do the exact same process:

Construct a scene that would suggest the preferable outcome. If you dropped your phone and broke your screen, imagine that you caught it instead. If you received undesirable news, imagine what you would have preferred to hear instead. 

Again, if you cannot conceptualize a scene of the ideal, pick three words that confirm the end. For lullaby, you can stick to “It never happened”

It could take some practice or maybe you’ll succeed at feeling it real on the first attempt. There comes a point where after visualizing or repeating those three words long enough that it’ll simply feel real. When you step out of that state you will feel surprised to realize that you’re no longer where your scene implied that you were. The vividness of your scene will feel as a real occurrence to you. Whenever I do the lullaby method and step out of that state I am filled with a sense of relief, as if my prayer has been answered. That’s how you’re supposed to feel after inducing the SATS rather than “hoping” that what you just did is enough.

Although you can induce the SATS at any time of day, if you choose to do it before bed (which is an excellent idea and I’m about to explain why), you can take that feeling of the wish fulfilled and fall asleep in that state. Always fall asleep with that satisfaction clouding your consciousness. Your prayer has been answered and there’s nothing left for you to do (but you can turn to the SATS whenever you need a reminder of the wish fulfilled).

V. Wish fulfilled briefly explained.

“When I speak of feeling I do not mean emotion, but acceptance of the fact that the desire is fulfilled. Feeling grateful, fulfilled, or thankful, it is easy to say, "Thank You," "Isn't it wonderful!" or "It is finished." When you get into the state of thankfulness, you can either awaken knowing it is done, or fall asleep in the feeling of the wish fulfilled.”

I remind you to proceed with this state not with the intention of doing in order to receive but rather to acquire the feeling of the wish fulfilled. Much like a prayer, think about it through the word "wish". Imagine what it would be like to ask for a wish and know that it's been granted, or asking for something and knowing you will receive it. How would you feel?

"The only condition required is that you believe that your prayers are already realized." - Feeling is the Secret Ch. 3

VI. How to you know if you’re in the state akin to sleep.

You’ll know you’re successfully induced this state where you’re still capable of moving but you don’t want to. You know when you rest your head on your arm or hand and you’re so comfortable that you don’t even want to move? That’s the state. It's like when you're so exhausted you throw yourself onto your bed and do not want to move because you immediately get comfortable, that’s how you should feel.

You’ll also know when you’re able to still guide the direction of your thoughts, if you’re too drowsy to the point where you’re slurring your words or cannot stick to your scene you've gone a little too far. You want to be able to focus and control your attention with as little effort as possible.

Symptoms may vary from person to person but here are the ones I personally feel that confirm I’m in the SATS:

My body feels slightly numb and will mildly twitch

My breathing is slow and short, my chest doesn’t rise much.

I am aware of the silhouette of my body but I cannot feel where my limbs touch.

VII. Misconceptions.

You do not need to physically impair the body.

You do not need to do this at night before bed.

The lullaby method is not affirming until you fall asleep.

Visualizing during the SATS is not a daydream, you are literally harvesting your future by assuming what the end looks like and then feeling the wish fulfilled.

You can induce sats at any time of day.  Neville himself recommended inducing it at a specific hour every day and soon enough you would automatically begin to feel drowsy at that same hour every day.

It is preferable to visualize in first person rather than in third person as if you are watching a scene unfold because you are meant to feel the scene as real as possible, as if you are actually there at this very moment. 

The affirmations are ideally condensed to three words or less so you can focus on them easier. I had personally found this to be much easier for me to remain focused when it’s only three words and not longer because I eventually start slurring my words.

How I personally induce the SATS:

I prefer to do it sometime between 18:00-21:00 when I have no intention of sleeping

I make myself a cup of tea (lavender or chamomile) so I feel relaxed.

If I struggle to focus I'll do a small ten minute guided meditation beforehand.

I then turn on brown noise or theta waves on noise canceling headphones.

I repeat to myself, “I am relaxed” “I am sleepy” until I start feeling drowsy.

VII. Final words.

I strongly advise you to approach the SATS not as a method but as a way to feel that your prayer has been answered. Do not induce the state in hopes of trying to “be” something because you can’t become what you already are. Utilizing your imagination during the SATS can be such a fulfilling and rewarding practice that I would encourage you to partake in it purely for enjoyment even when you are not specifically seeking the wish fulfilled. Remember to have fun with the SATS and let your imagination run free. ʚ♡ɞ

"Your prayer must be answered if you assume the feeling that would be yours were you already in possession of your objective. To pray successfully then, you must yield to the wish, that is, feel the wish fulfilled." - Feeling is the Secret Ch. 3

[highlyentropicmind]

How "porn" came to mean "good"

If you go to reddit and look for subs with the word "porn" in the name most of them are not about pornography or sex

r/FoodPorn is about pictures of food

r/EarthPorn and r/natureporn are about pictures of landscapes

r/ExposurePorn is about photos with a long exposure

Not even r/HumanPorn is about pornography, it is just about pictures of people

And these are just a few examples, I could keep going, but the point is that in these cases the word "porn" means "good" or "high quality"

And it's not just subreddit names, people use it in conversation. For example I remember one time I saw a gif of someone juggling in slow motion and people in the comments said it was "juggling porn". They didn't mean it was sexual at all, they meant that this person was really really good at juggling

In fact if you browse reddit for an hour I'm sure you'll find at least one example of people using the word "porn" in this non-sexual way

This is a very interesting example of linguistic evolution, and it is evidence of a remarkably sex-positive attitude

People who see sex and porn as shameful or "dirty" could never use "porn" in this non-sexual way to mean high quality

I think this started with people sharing videos or photos of food that looked really good, prompting someone to joke that it was like "food porn" and it stuck

Afterwards people kept making that joke about high quality pictures of food, and then started applying it to high quality pictures of anything, until the word "porn" acquired a new meaning

If this trend continues it could escape containment and be used in the real world

I wouldn't be surprised if in ten years a small business owner is taken to court for indecency just because their store is named something like "Bike Porn" and he just sells high quality bicycles

And I wouldn't be surprised if this person won his trail, forcing a judge to admit that the word "porn" has a non-sexual meaning, and opening the floodgates for this word to be used openly without any issue

[swe3tcoffe3]

Theatre Theory: Why Frisk Can't Be A Vessel Controlled By A Player (And How The Player Can Still Be Canon)

I often see people talk about the existence of a Player in Undertale. Specifically, people insisting that the REAL protagonist of Undertale is The Player, that Frisk is a non-character, a blank-slate vessel controlled by us who follows our whims; in short, a more compliant Kris. In this post I will set out to, as succinctly as possible, explain why this interpretation is just wrong, and that Frisk cannot be possessed by a Player at any point during Undertale (but that doesn't mean The Player isn't canon).

First of all, let us define how 'possession' works within the context of UTDR lore, and specifically what it means. 'Possession' refers to a state in which the person in question is unable to make decisions for themselves and is instead puppetted by a higher power who has taken over their Soul (specifically The Player, according to our current knowledge that is. It is unknown if other people are capable of this as of now). Our main example of this is Kris who rebels against our control several times throughout Deltarune.

However, The Player can't just possess anyone they feel like; this isn't a power that they possess. A connection must be established between host and Player (hence why it is also referred to as a 'connection' sometimes), one that is facilitated by a third party, someone who also is responsible for our save files. Without the help of this third party a Player cannot possess a person.

Using this knowledge and definition and taking a look at Frisk reveals that they don't match this criteria. There is nothing in Undertale that suggests the existence of any third party helping us establish a connection to the game's world, and we are explicitly told several times throughout the game that the save file belongs to Frisk, not The Player nor a third party managing things for us.

(Keep in mind that 'you' usually refers to Frisk within the context of UT)

This therefore leaves two possibilities:

1. Frisk is possessed, possession just works differently in UT than in DR

2. The Player is not possessing Frisk

In order for option 1 to be true sufficient proof must be put forward to show that Frisk is possessed in the first place via a different method, either by instances of them showing resistance or through dialogue about them being strange or off.

This scene is the only proof of something like this occurring, as Frisk ignores an inputted command. However, this isn't enough to prove that Frisk is possessed, as there are several possible alternative interpretations for what this could mean. It could be proof of Frisk being possessed and that this might be them rebelling against our control in this moment. It could also be Frisk choosing to ignore an inputted command if you believe that The Player is merely a spiritual guide and not directly possessing Frisk, and so subtly different to Kris' acts of rebellion. It could also be neither, with this dialogue only serving to set an eerie tone. It is an inherently ambiguous line open to several interpretations, leaving us back in the same situation with two possibilities once more: either Frisk is possessed in a way unique to Undertale, or they aren't.

And this leads me on to my final point on this matter, and the main reason why I personally believe interpreting Frisk as a vessel is wrong, and that is the narrative for both games.

Firstly, Undertale's diagetic Player possession, assuming that it is true, would be entirely redundant, simply because Frisk with their "because they can, they have to" attitude, would be fine with any route being done, so no additional drama or turmoil can be added by forcing them to do things they don't want to, simply because they'd still want to do whatever; they simply don't care. Frisk being possessed adds nothing to the narrative.

And while it can be argued that Sans' dialogue refers to The Player here, I'd say that by proxy it MUST also apply to Frisk too, given that they show no resistance to any of this (and even seem to revel in it, given the fact they willingly eat the Snowman alive of their own volition, and this is pretty early on into the Geno Route):

Contrast this with Kris, who has a strong moral compass and expresses clear distress about their predicament, and so their possession is able to create a more interesting plot and dynamic between Vessel and Player.

The Player existing in Undertale also contradicts Deltarune's metanarrative, and to proper illustrate how, I must first present to you an alternative to the 'possessed Frisk' proposal so that everything that comes after that makes more sense.

Imagine an interactive theatre play. The characters can interact with the audience and the audience can call out to them, yes, but the two are ultimately separate from one another, even if some characters may break the fourth wall on occasion. These characters may give long soliloquies to the audience, heartfelt pleas and speeches, but ultimately, the audience will never get to be a part of their world, regardless of how much they may love the play. This theatre play is Undertale. The audience is The Player.

Our instructions to Frisk are nothing more than us calling out to Frisk in the play; they then respond however they wish to. Flowey's and Chara's speeches happen within universe yes, but are also simultaneously fourth wall breaks where they speak to 'the audience'.

But the audience wants more. They want nothing more than to be a part of the play. They want to be part of the play's world, a character in the story.

This is when the devil appears, offering a  'survey program'. The audience may not be able to be part of this play, but they can be part of another one. They can be a character. The main character. They can have all the adventures they want, all the fun they want. They need only accept everything that happens from that point on.

The Player is diagetic to Deltarune because they wanted to be part of Undertale's world, but couldn't, so they became part of the next best thing. That's why they accept Gaster's offer in the first place, because they WANT to live in that world. It's their own form of escapism. In many ways, they parallel the Lightners in their love for fantasy and indulgence in it, who also want to share a world with their Darkner friends.

This is the heart of the conflict in Deltarune as a whole, especially our conflict with Kris, who wants to be free from our control but we The Player want to stay in their world to continue in our escapism. In a way, this is Deltarune's purpose: it's the next step for an unsatisfied player who wanted to join their beloved characters, a 'sequel' that isn't quite a sequel, if that makes sense. A way for their fantasies about joining their beloved world's realm to be real, and (most likely) one we must come to accept is impossible. Fiction cannot replace reality after all.

If the Player was controlling Frisk in Undertale, then all of this meta is ultimately pointless. There would be no need for Gaster to offer us his program if everything we already wanted (that is, to be diagetic and part of our favourite world) was already achievable in base Undertale.

In fact, The Player would actually be discouraged from accepting the survey program because Undertale would also grant The Player far fewer restrictions in what they can do and achieve within the game; they aren't necessarily discouraged from playing like they are in DR.

And this is the main reason why I believe Frisk cannot be a vessel, because Frisk being a vessel defeats the entire purpose of the message Deltarune is trying to say.

(Adding this last paragraph in at the end because I picked up Homestuck midway through creating this post and I feel like it's important to mention this, but a better analogy would probably just be Homestuck. There are these characters called "exiles" who can communicate with the players of "the game" known by the humans as Sburb. They can input commands to them that the players can either follow or ignore, and can also watch over this player, but are "exiled" or separated from this world. This is almost identical to what is happening with Frisk, according to this theory)

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

So, the Miraculous Ladybug TV Tropes page recently added this under the Broken Aesop section on the YMMV page:

Adrien/Cat Noir had many instances where he could have discovered the identity of Ladybug/Marinette, but always respected the private life of his beloved, despite knowing that learning it would bring them closer (The only time when he learned it accidentally, Adrien was punished with the apocalypse, no less, and a Retcon.) His attitude was presented as the right thing to do. In the meantime, Alya has been akumatized on the fact she wanted to know Ladybug/Marinette's secrets. Both times, she tried to violently force the issue with her powers and the second time was after she tried pressuring her into revealing them. But, as a reward for her pushy behavior, Alya has been entrusted with Ladybug's identity and the secrets of the Miracle Box. And Adrien's reward for respecting her privacy? He's still (and more and more) left in the dark, and will very likely be the last one to know.

Any thoughts?

I don't fully agree, but it's also not exactly wrong.

I love Alya, but I've never been a fan of the fact that she learned Marinette's secret identity, especially because the episode where it happens - Gang of Secrets - really failed to make the confession feel like a wise move. It's one of the many episodes with a wacky moral.

For those who don't remember, the episode has most of Marinette's female friends worrying about her. They know that she's keeping secrets because, for some reason, Marinette didn't tell anyone about her breakup with Luka:

Rose: They were so cute together! Alya: Yeah, except they broke up. Juleka: He was like super sad when they did. Alya: But the real problem here is that Marinette never told us anything. If Luka hadn't told Juleka, who told Rose, who told Mylène, who then told Alix, who finally told me. Then I, her BF in the whole world would still be in the dark! Yesterday I was in the restroom and I heard her crying.

This is... really weird. Why didn't Marinette tell them? The episode never explains and I can't figure out her logic because they'd obviously learn the truth. There's no way that Juleka wouldn't know!

My best guess is that the writers wanted a conflict over secrets, but they didn't want to have Marinette's girl friends pick up on her Ladybug-based lies as that would invite a level of complexity that they really can't resolve. But that's a meta reason. As far as the actual text goes, there's nothing to explain this baffling choice.

What's even more weird is that making it about the Ladybug secrets would have worked if Alya was the only one worried because the episode ends with Alya learning the truth. Having the episode only be about Marinette and Alya would make a lot of sense. Instead, it's about the whole, rarely-seen girl group so we're stuck with the Luka conflict. Yay.

Either way, I'm not wild about the actions Alya and Co take. Their first choice is to call Marinette. When she doesn't pick up, they leave a very sweet message. If things ended there, then we'd be fine, but right after that, we get this:

Alya: Maybe we should go to her house. What do you think? Mylène: We'll give her an eternal friendship bracelet so she never forgets that friends can tell each other anything and that we'll always be there for her.

This isn't a terrible idea. Checking on a friend when you're worried about them is a reasonable thing. The problem is the way that check up goes down. The girls basically invade Marinette's room and start messing with her stuff like this is some fun little hangout session, almost discovering the miracle box in the process:

Marinette: What are you doing here? Alya: We're just checkin' in on you, girl. Rose: Aw, it looks just like a real house, look how the roof comes off to show the inside! Marinette:(frantically) No! No, don't touch that! Move away! (As Rose opens the roof, Marinette gets down, pushing past through her friends and Rose as she hides what is inside of the dollhouse, while Rose accidentally drops the roof, which cracks. The girls gasp in shock.) Rose:(kneels to pick up the cracks) Sorry, Marinette! Marinette:(angrily) Will you please leave my room?! Alya: Chill out Marinette, it's just a doll house. We'll totally help. Marinette: No you won't, please go! Alya: Okay Marinette, there's clearly something wrong and we're not leaving you like this till you tell us what it is.

The scene goes on like this until Marinette lashes out and tells them to get out even if it means ending her friendship with them, which is a response that I find totally justified. Marinette is quite obviously very distressed by her friends' presence and they are refusing to listen to her pleas to leave. They're also giving that refusal in a highly confrontational manner, which is the completely wrong tone for conveying concern. They do not come across as caring. They come across as demanding.

Marinette has every right to be upset by that. It's okay to not want people to invade your room, touch your stuff, and demand to know you're secrets. It's also okay to get upset when people keep ignoring your clearly stated and perfectly reasonable boundaries.

While I fully support wellness checks, this is not how you do them. It's like a variation on the scenes where people confront Gabriel in Adrien's name. They're all impressively terrible examples of how you handle a very complex situation. Worst possible way you could go about it. Children, do not try this at home!

Of course, Marinette's justified reaction leads to the girls getting akumatized, leading to a fight, leading to Ladybug saving the day, leading to everyone being friends again even though the girls never apologize for how they went about their wellness check. Rose's quick sorry for breaking Marinette's doll house is the only one we get in the entire episode. Then we get this:

Alya: You go ahead girls, I just have one last thing to say to Marinette. (closes the door to Marinette's room) You didn't tell us everything, did you? A journalist and a BFF can tell these things. I won't try to figure it out or force it out of you. (sits beside Marinette) If you can't tell me what's in your heart, it's your right. Marinette: Will we still be friends? Alya: Marinette. I'm your best friend, and I'll always be. That's why it kills me that I can't help you with whatever's making you feel so alone. (Alya sighs, and is about to leave Marinette's room when Marinette grabs her hand.) Marinette: Alya, wait! Stay. You're right, I am alone. (grows increasingly emotional) More than ever before. I can barely take it anymore! You know why I broke up with Luka? Not because I don't like him, he's amazing! It's 'cause there's something that I can't tell him. You know why I have to forget Adrien? For the exact same reason! You're right, I keep secrets, I lie all the time! I lie to my friends, to my parents, to everyone and the worst thing is, I can't do it any other way! Alya: There's always another way. Marinette: No, not this time. I have no choice. All this is bigger than us, Alya. Way too big. Alya: If it's too big, two of us can handle it better than one. Marinette: If I tell you, things will never be the same between us again. (shakes her head) It'll mess up everything, maybe even destroy it. Alya:(voice breaking) Marinette, I'm your very best friend. Marinette: And I… I'm Ladybug.

Maybe this is just me, but this doesn't feel like Alya respecting Marinette's boundaries. It's certainly not as bad as the earlier scene. In fact, I like a lot of this in a vacuum, but because of that earlier scene, this one feels uncomfortable. Once again, Alya is so sure that she knows what she's talking about even though she really doesn't.

In the first scene, Marinette was right that they all needed to get out so that she could protect the Kwamis and in this scene she was right that the Ladybug reveal wasn't the kind of thing where sharing was the clear right choice. This would all play so much better if Alya said her first few lines and then actually left, only to be called back by Marinette several hours later. Then we'd really feel like Marinette was making an informed choice instead of revealing her identity in a panic.

Another option would be to have Alya offer comfort without needing to know what is upsetting Marinette, maintaining the secret identities while also giving Marinette some much needed support. Saying she'll support Marinette no matter what and then getting up to leave just doesn't feel super supportive to me. It feels like Alya is (unintentionally) making Marinette panic by saying one thing while technically doing another.

Remember, Marinette just had a really stressful day where she almost lost all of her friends, making this an incredibly charged moment that ends with Alya leaving while clearly disappointed. Of course Marinette would try to salvage that! Her brain isn't focusing on Alya's genuine words. It just sees Alya leaving and panics. It doesn't help that this opening line would put a lot of people on edge:

You didn't tell us everything, did you? A journalist and a BFF can tell these things.

"I know you're still keeping secrets, but I respect that" is not the best way to start a conversation with someone who is clearly struggling.

Because of these issues, I don't feel like Marinette truly decided to make this serious choice. I feel like she blurted it out in the middle of a panic attack, so this scene never gave me a warm fuzzy feeling. This is especially true because we never get to truly see the fallout of Alya processing the reveal and comforting Marinette. The scene just ends and the next episode has them back to their usual dynamic, just with the bonus element of Alya knowing the whole Ladybug thing.

To be fair to Alya, a lot of this comes back to our oft-discussed issue of Miraculous trying to speed run major story lines in 20 minutes because it's a formula show so it can't let things play out properly. That doesn't change the fact that this feels rushed and unsatisfying. It's not the natural conclusion to an episode where Alya learns to respect Marinette's boundaries, but I don't think that's actually the lesson here. The lesson seems to be that Marinette should share her secrets with her friends to lessen her mental burden.

Once again, that's a lovely lesson in a vacuum, but a really weird one for the show that gave us Chat Blanc and Miracle Queen in the previous season and that will include Sentibubbler, Ephemeral, and Nino accidentally outing Alya to Gabriel in the exact same season. Season five will even see Luka leave the country because he knows the secret identities!

Writers, when it comes to secret identities, you really need to pick a lane. Are they good or bad? Is sharing them a No Good Very Bad Thing, an act of trust, or no big deal? The inconsistency around this topic is a major issue for the show as the Alya reveal really undermines everything going on with Ladynoir. While there's solid logic for Ladynoir not sharing, similar logic applies to Alya at this point because Gabriel literally knows her secret identity! Through no fault of her own, Alya is not a safe person and that makes it really hard to watch Alya get the reveal while Adrien stays in the dark. I can justify him not knowing. I can't justify Alya knowing.

I'll wrap this up by saying that I don't agree that Adrien has respected Ladybug's boundaries to the point where it feels like he should have been rewarded (narratively speaking, of course. This is a story after all). He may not be all that pushy about an identity reveal, but he's pretty freaking pushy about Ladynoir becoming a thing, so Ladybug not being ready to trust him does feel earned. Plus, as I said above, it's not like there's no logic behind them keeping their identities a secret. We know that they're dating on the civilian side, but as far as they know, they're total strangers.

If you look at it from that perspective and ask, "what are the benefits of a reveal," you'll find that they're not overwhelming, especially when compared to the risks that come with a mind-controlling super villain on the loose. I totally get why Marinette isn't telling him a thing, I'm just not really sure why she needed to tell Alya. The more logical route here is for Marinette to keep her secrets and look for support on the Ladybug side of things. Ideally that support should be Chat Noir or Su-Han, but it could be Alya, too. I still think that's a bad call since Alya's identity is in the villain's hands, but it would still make more sense than Marinette telling Alya all of her secrets. Another route would be for Alya to learn by accident. She walks in at the wrong time and, ooops, no taking that back. That's the only way I'd personally write Alya learning at this point in the story.

Sorry if this one was a bit of a ramble, the writing around the topic of secret identities is one of the elements I truly don't understand. I have no idea what the writers are doing here. It's not even a "you didn't think this through" thing like the sentimonster stuff. It's a "you spent all of last season telling us that identity reveals are bad and you're about to spend all of this season also telling us that, so why do we randomly get an identity reveal that's magically okay? Rena Furtive doesn't even do anything useful for the plot, why make her a thing?? Are you even trying to tell a coherent story???"

[xxdrowninglessonsxx]

DNI IF ANGRY AT WHAT I HAVE TO SAY OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. SICK OF THE HARASSMENT.

Two months ago people would have been hyping me up for criticizing the two-party system, but now I just get comments telling me how I’m the reason trans people don’t have rights or why other minorities don’t have rights. I’m trans, 22 years old, and live in Appalachia. I can promise you I’m not the reason trans people don’t have rights. We don’t have rights because society is rigged against us. We don’t have rights because we never have. We don’t have rights because the candidates we vote for to give us rights, never do what is promised. They rarely fulfill their campaign promises, so why would I want to support someone who has no intention of actually helping me or the other people they claim to want to help? Just so we can be “comfortable” for another 4 years until we get to the 4th year and wonder why no change was made and why we have to pick between 2 evils again?

Just because I question the system we live in and actually stand up for what I believe in, doesn’t make me complicit in my own suffering. Actually, it’s quite the opposite. Get a life and stop harassing trans people and other minorities for not following blindly to whatever bullshit you spew while simultaneously using them to prop up your stance. It’s actually kind of fucked up. I vote in my local elections and the primaries. Never have I once said I wasn’t going to vote, and the people insinuating that don’t know me as a person in real life. You sit behind a computer screen arguing for the sake of arguing. Just because I don’t know who I’m voting for for sure, doesn’t make me the devil, and trying to force and harass other people into going along with “VOTE BLUE NO MATTER WHO” only makes you look worse. You’re allowed to vote for whoever you want for, just as much as I am. It’s almost like that’s the point of voting. You’re allowed to announce who you’re voting for or what your stances are; it’s almost like that’s in the 1st amendment. You’re fed up. I’m fed up. We have the same goals but different ways of going about it.

I’ve held the exact stance that the two-party system is shit for years, and never have I ever been more attacked than by Harris supporters. I haven’t ever had a republican come on my page to guilt trip me about my own identity and tell me I’m the reason that my community is in jeopardy, but you democrats sure love to attack minorities who want change just as bad as you when they don’t fully agree with you. Or you use trans rights to make a lame point, despite the fact you’re literally using someone’s identity against them in order to make them feel bad for not following your specific pick for president who literally supports genocide just as much as the other one does. Please spare me the bullshit on how Trump is worse and plans to take our rights away. We as a collective know. I voted for Biden in the previous election. What’s to stop Trump from running again in the next one if he loses this one? It’s clear his age won’t stop him.

Some people need time to grapple with what’s at stake in this election, and it’s not fair to bombarde them with hate in order to convince them to make a choice when both parties go against their morals and have gone against their morals. Hate and the “better than thou” attitude is the exact reason they don’t like your cause.

I’m sick of people acting like voting blue for President will prevent the end of the world or whatever the fuck you think. Other elections matter as well, not just presidential. Democrats love to sit comfortably while their President is in office, so comfortably that they forget that organizing for change matters. They forget that we should be lobbying for ranked choice voting. They forget that we should be lobbying against the electoral college.

Have you taken a look at your candidate’s benefactors recently? Do you know any response other than, “Well, what do you suppose we do about it?” when asked about Palestine’s plight? How should I know? I’m a lower-class person who makes about $10,000 a year with no voice but my vote. I’ve emailed and called my representatives. I’ve done all I can do. I’ve donated what little money I can to causes I believe in. It’s not my job to step up. I have been stepping up. It’s our politicians job to step up. It’s the billionaires who fund our politicians who need to step up.

It’s not anyone but your candidate’s fault if they lose in the election. Quit blaming the innocent people who do nothing but work their asses off just to scrape by into being complicit with you and your corporate-controlled parties who only want to pass whatever agenda will make them the most money. The parties who allow the rich to get richer while the poor get poorer. Y’all loved saying Palestine was your red line when Biden was running, but suddenly everything is different now? It doesn’t make sense to me, and it must be fun being privileged enough to jump from one cause to the next as trends cycle because you don’t live in Palestine, and it doesn’t effect you. You are not immune to propaganda just as much as I am not immune.

“A man who stands for nothing will fall for anything.” - Malcom X

That being said, I understand the appeal of voting for Kamala and why you would. I understand the fear. I experience the fear every single day. So go out, vote, and use your voice. Stop making others feel bad. Going after the people who relatively agree with you is not helping your cause, it is hurting it, and it will be what causes you to lose the election.

[linderosse]

I LOVE YOUR WIELDERS OF WISDOM COMIC!!!! i think its wonderful and so absolutely necessary (if u will excuse my feminism)... the art style is GORGEOUS and im just so grateful someone is giving love to all the zeldas <33

sorry that this is anon but. i dislike being perceived lmao

Thank you so much!!

And heck yeah on the representation front! I’m doing my best to write a variety of interesting characters that will help me tell the stories I want to tell. To me, the fact that they’re mostly women is both incidental and vitally important at the same time.

Tetra was my first Zelda, and I always loved her pirate captain badassery and no-nonsense attitude. I was a bit of a ‘tomboy’ (used in the non-insulting sense, simply referring to a girl who liked traditionally boyish hobbies/clothing) growing up, so I identified with Tetra real hard <3. Heckin’ loved her practical, forthright nature— and the way the games don’t hesitate to show her wackier side and how her actions sometimes get her in trouble— and how she gets out of it, with or without help.

And of course, girls can also be girly and get things done! Love the more traditionally feminine Zeldas as well; shirking feminine mannerisms definitely isn’t a requirement for a well-written female character. You can have a character wear a tiara, battle in a dress, and still be cool. Heck, you can have ’em don a soft gown, not fight at all, and still be an awesome character: maybe she genuinely wants good for the world, or maybe she controls the board with gentle magic and soft “feminine” persuasion to achieve her goals, turning foes into friends— or her pawns.

And characters don’t always have to succeed! Sometimes persuasion fails. Sometimes they argue with someone they know is right. Sometimes her sword falters. But that’s fine! That’s what makes for a good, realistic, fun character— that’s how humans are.

(continued under the cut)

See, I feel like some popular media is trending towards forcing women to be *exclusively* badass, almost flawless in their physical skill yet boyish in their mannerisms.

Like, as a random example: Peach in the Mario movie. Movie Peach no longer giggles and blows kisses, because that would be too girly. And Movie Peach is a perfect platformer and politician, because female empowerment. Same thing with Galadriel in RoP (and it’s honestly a bit different and way worse with RoP Galadriel, because her mother-name is Nerwen which translates to man-maiden and she is canonically a tomboy, but they write it so badly in RoP that not even the rest of the characters in the show respect her for her over-the-top ‘female badassery.’) And as a huge, longtime fan of both the Mario series and the Silmarillion, it kinda hurt to see those Mary Sue-esque, somewhat shallow depictions of what should be complex characters.

Now, the thing is: one or two perfect characters like that are just fine! The problem lies in the fact that many of these shows have only a few female characters to begin with, and they’re all like that. Peach is kinda alright, but Galadriel’s major flaws are barely even shown because the writing has to try to make her look badass even when she’s making objectively terrible decisions.

Because here’s the thing— depicting only perfect women and minimizing flaws isn’t supporting female empowerment. Girls have flaws too, folks. Popular media relying only on the immaculate femme fatale badass just makes for a more cliche story, and imposes higher standards on young girls who look up to these characters. And the forced boyishness forces standards as well.

Why can’t Peach flutter her eyelashes, giggle, and still knock bad guys on their asses? Or, better yet, why can’t Peach flutter her eyelashes, giggle, knock bad guys on their asses, help Mario out, also get helped by Mario, and maybe admit that it took practice for her to get to where she is now?

That’s how she used to be in the middle Mario era, like Super Mario RPG, Thousand Year Door, and Super Paper Mario. Peach was feminine and still relatable to a young tomboy like myself.

I’ve rambled on for far too long, but anyways, that’s what I’m gonna try to do here with the Wisdomverse: tell stories of a bunch of different types of people, where each of them has their own take on what it means to be Zelda.

I can’t promise I’ll be perfect at writing this either, honestly. Perhaps I’ll fall into some of the same traps— I’m sure it’s hard to avoid them.

And perhaps my thoughts on this will evolve over time as well, and I’ll later have an even better understanding of how to write the characters I want to write.

Either way, I’ll certainly do my best!

Tl;dr: I got really sidetracked, but thank you for the kind message! Glad to hear you’re enjoying Wielders of Wisdom; hope to keep building my characters into interesting and at least somewhat complex women as things progress :)