#but i know someone else out there will relate

[odiabonecessario]

Ngl, I forgot it was possible to tag someone even though I did the same with a content creator I like a long time ago so I just kept staring at my phone screen for a while before touching it—

I'm aware of it, in fact I really try to find the truth from both sides. It doesn't have anything exactly related but I always had some kind of faith that most people who we see as unredeemable can get their redemption. I don't know the name of the guy but I really like the example of that dude who entered in the damn KKK and converted a lot of them I wish I could say with certainty that it was 200 but I'm not sure. I'm not going to advocate for the guy who wrote that but I can't deny it also feels like some sort of persecution sometimes

For example, Simone de Beauvoir was defending to lower the age of consent and apparently has correlation with nazis I guess? I can't say for sure about the last one, honestly. The creator of the trans flag was a autogynephilic who felt pleasure from wearing underwears of his own mom and wrote a whole book that'd be considered as lolicon content. Wtf do these two have in common? You don't see any of these two guidelines being interrogated by the at very least questionable actions of their "creators" [emphasizing the quote marks because they're not exactly the creator of these groups but rather had a important impact]

One of the things I'm already complaining about is that I don't know how to do something at all about Men's Rights on a political aspect. I'm not even talking about becoming a politician, I'm just talking about at least helping in any way

I don't think I'll ever find a group like MRM but that doesn't mean I'm against women fighting for a more equal society. Heck, I don't expect anyone to agree with me nor anything at all of what I say. If I make a comparison with my posts from just one year ago I'm pretty sure even myself would look at misogynistic shit and say "whoa". I'm just trying to find a way to help people like everyone else and I'm open to change my views, in fact I agree with feminism more than it seems — it's just that I've been suffocated by only one side for so long and coming from my mom and ex-stepmom that I think I already said in the past everything I agreed so now that I'm free I can just talk about the ways I disagree with them, kinda like my experience with leftism

Even when I'm disagreeing with something, I kinda have to pull myself back and understand everyone's trying to figure things out

Some men expecting women/feminists to be the ones to advocate for "men's mental health" is so crazy to me because THEY'RE the reason mens' mental health is so awful😭 men are literally each others worst enemies yet for some reason we have to be the ones to advocate for them

[notlongtolove]

the earth was made for lovers

they say paris is the city of love. quantico, virginia? not so much. a smattering of cafés, the occasional pop-up museum if the season feels generous. it’s all routine, really, carved out of the ordinary.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: day in the life of bau!reader and bf spencer on a day off, just domestic fluff... spencer reid best bf ever agenda

word count: 2.3k

note: not even gonna lie this has almost nothing to do with the linked poem other than it being romance related i just read that line and my brain ran wild with it n e ways happy end of year everyone <3

a line: It’s where you met a boy too kind for his own good, love spilling from him at the edges.

Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain, For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain. - emily dickinson

They say Paris is the city of love. Quantico, Virginia? Not so much. A smattering of cafés, the occasional pop-up museum if the season feels generous. It’s all routine, really, carved out of the ordinary.

Even the way you and Spencer met was decidedly unremarkable. A simple, predictable statistic—Work. No serendipitous meeting in a dusty bookshop or a fateful grab for the last box of cereal. Just proximity, shared interests, and time. Not exactly the makings of a Nicholas Sparks screenplay.

Your first date—if you could even call it that—A stakeout for the Reynolds case, which, in Spencer’s mind, seamlessly doubled as an outing, though you’d argued against it. It eventually evolved into coffee at a quiet café, a stroll through the park, and a chaste kiss on your doorstep. The weeks that followed had brought more kisses, more quiet moments, till it all became wonderfully familiar.

Now, you’re walking hand in hand, the crisp sound of leaves crunching beneath your steps.

“We should go to Venice this summer,” you say, your fingers laced with his.

“Venice?” he echoes, tilting his head.

“Mhm. The city of love,” you muse fondly. 

“That’s Paris, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, for the unimaginative and basic. Think prosecco on gondolas, Spence.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow, amused. “Did you get a pay raise I didn’t hear about?”

You turn to meet him with a deadpan stare, leaning back against the cold metal pole of the bus stop. Spencer shifts, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his chest instead. To anyone else, it’s a sweet, tender, gesture of affection. And it is, mostly. But you of all people know Spencer likes having you close just as much as he likes keeping you from resting against questionable surfaces.

“Kidding honey,” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “Just let’s run it by Hotch before we start packing hm?”

A breeze cuts through the air, eliciting a shiver from you. Without missing a beat, Spencer shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. If this had been your third date, you might have flushed, awkwardly protesting that you didn’t need it. But after two years, you’ve come to learn that Spencer Reid’s stubbornness rivals his intelligence when it comes to taking care of you. So you accept it without a word.

You accept the scarf, too, when he wraps it around your neck, tucking the ends neatly beneath the lapels of his coat. Your willing acceptance earns you a kiss on the tip of your nose, followed by one to your lips, soft and lingering.

When the bus arrives, you board first—always. There’s one seat left but you decline it, offering it to someone else instead. You’re both content standing, his arm steady as it holds the rail, yours slipping around his waist. You lean into him ever so slightly, your head resting just below his shoulder.

“Aw, we should’ve stopped by the bakery,” you sigh, eyes looking longingly out the window as the bus takes a slow turn past it.

Spencer leans across you, his hand already pressing the stop button. “We can walk back,” he says, his tone casual, though he doesn’t miss the way your eyes brighten instantly.

The bus comes to a gentle halt eventually, and his hand finds yours as you step off together. The sidewalk is narrow, but Spencer doesn’t seem to mind. Up ahead, the intersection is quiet, and with no cars in sight, he instinctively steps onto the road, letting you take the sidewalk to yourself, his hand never leaving yours.

As you walk, your hand dips into your bag, fingers sifting through an assortment of small objects before pulling out a wired earpiece. With one hand, you do your best to unravel it, then hand one side to Spencer.

“S’not that long of a walk, honey,” Spencer says, though he takes his side of the earpiece anyway. 

“I know,” you reply, slipping the other side into your ear. “But the weather’s so nice.”

“Says the one in two coats and my scarf.” You nudge him lightly, elbow brushing his arm as you move to select a song from your shared playlist. Spencer nods approvingly when a Turnover song starts playing. “I like this one.” 

“Me too,” you murmur, letting out a contented sigh as you slip your phone back into your bag, your hands swinging gently between you. Spencer considers telling you about Turnover’s musical evolution—their shift away from emo and punk rock roots. But the thought fades when he sees you quietly humming along, smiling to himself at the sight. 

The aroma of fresh pastries wafts toward you from a block away, the bakery coming into view soon after. Your steps quicken instinctively, with Spencer keeping pace. “Inside or outside?” He asks as you approach.

Normally, you’d both opt for the cozy outdoor seating, but the earlier chill has thickened, and the sky is now overcast with a looming promise of rain. You sigh dramatically as you begin to coil the earpiece in your hand, “Don’t think we have much of a choice, honey.” Spencer meets your exaggerated pout with an equally exaggerated sad smile before pulling the door open for you.

It’s quiet inside, save for the soft clinking of cutlery from a table where two elderly women chat over tea. Spencer moves behind you, helping you shrug out of his coat and scarf before draping them neatly over the back of a chair. You make your way to the counter, eyes scanning the rows of baked goods lined up. 

“Three for $10 on cupcakes today,” the cashier offers warmly. 

“Ooh, one chocolate please,” you say, without hesitation. Spencer’s favourite. 

“And one blueberry,” Spencer says. Your favourite, of course. 

His eyes flick to you, a subtle tilt of his head, and you know exactly what he’s waiting for. Banana—a close second on your list, almost guaranteed to make the cut.

You pause, pretending to deliberate, “We’ll take a red velvet,” you declare finally, and Spencer’s lips quirk upward. His other favorite.

After a small debate over who’s paying—Spencer, of course; he’d sooner recite the entirety of The Canterbury Tales backward than let you pay while he’s around—you shuffle back to your table, cupcakes in your hand and the faintest hint of triumph in his grin.

“You know where else has really good cupcakes?” you say as you set the box down between you, already digging in. 

He arches a brow, “Enlighten me.”

“Venice.”

Spencer snorts, barely stifling a laugh. “Ah yes, Venice, La Serenissima, renowned across the globe for its cupcakes.”

“You mock me Spencer Reid, but seriously,” you say with indignation, wagging your finger at him for emphasis. “I was looking at flights last night and—”

“You were looking at flights?” he cuts in, leaning across the table. His hand brushes your cheek, his thumb gently swiping away a smudge of blueberry frosting you hadn't noticed. You shift, instinctively leaning into his touch.

“They’ve got some really good deals right now,” you press on, undeterred, as you tear your blueberry cupcake neatly in half, holding out the piece to him. 

“I mean, I guess we could,” Spencer says thoughtfully, handing you half of his chocolate cupcake in return.

“Really?” Your face lights up.

“But,” he adds, pausing for effect as he takes a bite, “we’d have to talk to Hotch first.”

You huff theatrically as you make a point of finishing the rest of your cupcake in one exaggerated bite. 

Not long after, the cupcakes are gone, their crumbs swept aside, and the first light drizzle begins to spatter against the bakery window. Spencer is quick to help you into your coat, though this time you insist you don’t need his as well. He eyes you, clearly skeptical before relents and shrugs on his own coat.

“Not that cold anymore,” you insist, but he doesn’t let you fight him when he wraps his scarf around your neck, tucking it in once more. You can’t help but smile at the gesture.

Having Spencer Reid as a boyfriend means being perpetually over-prepared for every scenario, a fact proven moments later when you pull an umbrella from your bag—the very one he had slipped in earlier that morning.

Outside, the rain is light but persistent, it’s raindrops dotting the pavement in tiny patterns. You wait under the awning as Spencer opens the umbrella, holding his arm out for you to take. Truthfully, you are cold, colder than you’d like to admit, but you know Spencer too well. Whenever you share an umbrella, he always overcompensates, always angling it just so to keep you entirely dry. By the time you get home, one side of his coat is perpetually a shade darker, soaked from the rain, while you remain dry to the touch.

You hook your arm through his, leaning into him as you walk. 

“So, you’ll talk to Hotch on Monday?” you prompt, glancing up at him with a hopeful smile.

“Me? You’re the one itching to cruise around on gondolas.”

“Yeah, but he likes you more,” you counter, “you’ve known him for ages,” drawing out the last word dramatically.

“You joined the team four months after me.”

“Please?” You know full well he’s already on the verge of giving in.

“Fine,” he sighs, relenting, though the smile on his lips betrays him. 

You press a delighted kiss to his shoulder. “Best boyfriend ever.”

The walk home is peaceful, the quiet only broken by one brief moment of excitement when you swore you saw a kitten dart under the hood of a parked car. Spencer humoured you, standing and holding the umbrella patiently over you as you crouched to peek under the vehicle, only to find nothing but shadows. 

At your building, he shakes the umbrella off before closing it, careful not to drip water on the lobby floor. You trail behind him up the stairs, your pace slowed by the stiffness of your boots. By the time you reach your door, you’re already leaning against the frame, tugging fruitlessly at the zipper on one of them.

“I can’t wait until we’re in Venice and out of this shitty weather,” you huff, fiddling with the stubborn zip.

Spencer chuckles softly, bemused. “Uh-huh,” he says, kneeling without a second thought. His fingers find the zipper, pulling it smoothly downward in one practised motion. “Up,” he prompts, tapping your ankle lightly. You shift your weight, lifting your foot so he can slide the boot off. The moment it’s free, his hands move to the other boot, tugging at the zipper while you steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder. 

“You’d think for $80, they’d have mastered the art of waterproof footwear,” he quips, straightening up and setting your boots neatly by the door. His coat follows a moment later, draped on the hook in your living room.

The opening is too good to pass up. “You know where they make the best boots?”

Spencer glances at you, already catching on, “Touché darling”. He shakes his head in amused resignation. “Tea?” he offers, moving toward the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

“Yes, please,” you reply, kicking off your socks and padding after him. You hop onto the counter, your favourite perch, and swing your legs idly as he sets the kettle on the stove.

“Venice actually has surprisingly good tea,” he says, pulling open the cabinet to grab the mugs—yours with a faint crack along the rim that you refuse to part with, (despite his repeated, that’s really dangerous, honey, warnings) and his, adorned with a fading illustration of the periodic table. 

“You’re joking,” you laugh as he sets the mugs on the counter beside you before his arms cage you in, one on either side.

“I’m serious, the first Western record of tea? Venice. Everybody knows Italy’s famous for its coffee, but tea has its place too.” 

You hum in faux contemplation as your arms loop around his neck. “How very fascinating,” you reply, punctuating your words with light kisses along his jaw. You can feel him smile against your cheek as he continues his impromptu lecture, but his words falter when your hands slide up to brush the damp curls from his forehead.

His lips find the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that send you into a fit of giggles. “Spence,” you squeal, half-protesting as he nuzzles into your skin, his stubble tickling in just the right way. In your laughter, your arm brushes the counter, sending your mug tumbling to the floor with a sharp crash.

Both of you startle at the sound, Spencer’s reflexes kicking in as he immediately pulls you closer. “Shit. I’m sorry, honey.” Spencer’s eyes dart from you to the shattered ceramic on the floor. “Are you hurt?”

“M’fine,” you assure him, shaking your head. “Are you?”

He exhales, relieved, brushing his hands gently over your legs checking as if to make sure. “I’m fine, too. Just... don’t move, okay? It’s really sharp.”

You glance down at the scattered remains of your beloved mug, shoulders sagging slightly, the disappointment evident.

Spencer’s hand finds yours again, squeezing lightly as he flashes you a soft, reassuring smile. “S’okay, baby. You know where else they make really good mugs?” And you’re in a fit of laughter again. 

Unfortunately, as it turns out, Hotch isn’t exactly thrilled about any PTO requests longer than two weeks—especially when it means losing two of his agents, and for an entire summer at that. 

So, the summer doesn’t take you far after all. There’s no lovelock bridge, no prosecco sipped by moonlit canals. But there are cramped buses with too few seats, where you’d rather stand pressed together than sit apart. There are rain-soaked evenings, huddled close under an umbrella that never quite does its job of keeping both of you dry—though you’d argue that’s more on Spencer. 

Quantico, Virginia, might not be the Eiffel Tower or a gondola gliding along a Venetian canal, but it is where Spencer first held your hand in a coffee breakroom after a scolding that left you blinking back tears, where you spent an entire evening sorting his books into new shelves after you got your own place together.

All in all, you’ve come to find that you quite like it here. It’s where you met a boy too kind for his own good, love spilling from him at the edges.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: humming by turnover pretty boy by the neighbourhood

[cute-little-fly]

I was just rewatching Sinsmas and Octavia’s reaction makes so much sense, and is rooted so much in the dysfunctional family dynamic.

Ik a lot of people have pointed out this, and how much this topic has been discussed, but, so many people still don’t realize that the only thing that balanced the dynamic in the household for Via was Stolas. This is why she is so devastated.

Even if she sees her mother abusing her by taking her phone and referring to her as: “his daughter” like if she wasn’t in the room, she knows that if Stolas was there Stella would not be allowed to do that, or Stolas would take the phone and give it back to her and defend her. Or maybe that would not even happen. You see now?

Stolas was the only thing shielding her from the abuse by being the shield that took it. She is not completely conscious of this, but she just knows that Stolas left, and that she is alone now.

This is why it is so hard for her to accept the reality that Stella was abusive, because she loves her mother even if she can’t really count on her as a parent. Via was able to bond at some extent with Stella because Stolas was the one taking the blows, not because Stella was really “calmer” before. Stella is there as she always has been, but Via thinks Stella is worse now because of what Stolas did…

In Via’s eyes he left her defenseless and never was trully happy even with her. She thinks his unhappiness is because he stayed for obligation and not for love, but you can love your daughter and still be unhappy in your life in general because you can’t use your child to fill your own void like that.

You need someone to comfort you, and you are your kid’s caretaker, so your kid can’t help with that. Is actually a good parental trait that Stolas didn’t parentified her, and didn’t made her fill his own emotional needs by telling her his pain, and making her comfort him about it. But, it also was bad that he never explained anything because it kept Octavia in a parallel reality. However, this is a very hard situation to handle. Honestly I wouldn’t know what to tell a child in that situation.

For her it was she and Stolas against the world and that was fine the way it was.

Stolas was her everything while she grew up, her entire happiness. So, she feels a betrayal to learn that he wasn’t as happy as her in those moments (we know he was in those moments even if he endured unhappiness in the marriage and his personal life, but she thinks that).

Is so painful because they were the world for each other, but she doesn’t understand that he was so mistreated at the same time, and not loved back by anyone else. By an equal, by a partner or friends and he also has depression. That is not related to her…

[eternalbuckley]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ WISTERIA VINES. (series)

୨୧ — It's the idea of a deep, romantic and emotional connection you once shared with someone. Wisteria vines symbolize romance and connection. They grow slowly but steadily and represent the patient process of reconnection and understanding. Vines grow in an intertwining way and can reflect a bond between two people and how they grow stronger together. The flowers bloom in spring which symbolises new beginnings, meaning that two people can grow a once shared bond again.

SUMMARY: You have been selected to portray the role of Juliet for the upcoming ballet ballet shows of Romeo and Juliet, which are set to be performed in three months. Which means you have to find yourself in a position to portray your role at the side of your ex-boyfriend and former dancing partner, Aemond Targaryen. Whom happened to have been selected as the role of Romeo. Things between you have been left in a friendly but strange place and given to the circumstances you'll have to find yourself spending most of your time together with him. Old feelings for each other remained between you since your breakup and might find their way back to each of you. What happens if one of you puts your somewhat left friendship and the production at risk for unsaid left feelings?

warnings/tropes: 18+ mdni, modern au, best friends brother, ex lovers to possible lovers, yearning, tension, chapters may contain sexual topics, fluff, angst, smut, and more! it's implied fem!/afab!reader (especially the smut parts) but i try to be as gender neutral as possible, they/them pronouns are used if needed, english is not my first language! (each chapter has its own warnings)

Chapter 1: Your Romeo. Your Juliet. | tiny bit of angst, 4,415 words

Chapter 2: Title not decided yet // coming soon

….

taglist for this series — i won't be able to upload a new chapter each week but i try to post reguarly ♡ (I'm using an extra taglist for this series, so if you want to be notified when i post a new chapter, please fill out the taglist! You don't have to do that if you're already on my main taglist but if don't want to be notified for the series please let me know!)

a/n: i am certainly no professional or have ever experienced dancing ballet myself. all my knowledge is from research and interest in itself. so, there might be things that make no sense, aren’t completely correct or whatsoever — it‘s just fiction so don’t think about it too much, please. i came up with the main idea because of my obsession with classical music i‘ve been having for the past months and because of a post from my angel @peachysunrize made a few months ago about an ex lovers!ballet au, which is the background idea for this series, hehehe. anyways, happy reading! i hope you‘ll enjoy reading this series which is my precious little baby! xx remember that reblogs, feedback and comments are highly appreciated and welcomed! ♡

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i don’t give you my permission to use my writing for any ai related things, don’t do it. do not plagiarise or try to take ownership of my work. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know! i do not own the rights of any characters are involved in this series (unless i created them)

dividers by saradika-graphics

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ navigation | main hotg masterlist

[smile-files]

we immediately get a ton of details on luke's current situation. his mother has been away for quite some time and he almost completely refuses to talk to his father. layton has only ever seen luke as a baby, so neither would know each other personally at this point; in any event it is concluded that he might be willing to connect with someone outside his family (which suggests familial conflict).

and luke, just like how we've seen him in the main series, is usually bright-eyed and bushy-tailed: he's only so withdrawn now. the maid suspects this is because of the absence of his mother, which is interesting, as this being just a suspicion suggests that luke himself has said nothing explicitly to that end - even if it is true, luke has not communicated this. and indeed, he acts very grown-up: it is unclear if this is a behavior he's always exhibited, or one only picked up in recent events (relating to his mother, the specter, or something else).

despite neither layton nor luke knowing each other personally, luke seems to know a great deal about layton - calling him "esteemed", and knowing his aptitude for puzzles. as it is, luke was the one writing for layton's assistance, so he clearly knows much about layton's ability to solve baffling mysteries. and isn't it fascinating how their relationship began over luke seeing layton as this genius celebrity? that surely leads into the way luke would proceed to idolize layton, and call himself "layton's apprentice" (over "layton's friend").

clark, upon learning that luke wrote the letter in his name, immediately lashes out at luke. he seems to care about luke, sure, but he's incredibly dismissive and easily assumes the worst. clark doesn't give luke the benefit of the doubt, or even the time of day to explain himself - so no wonder luke has refused to talk to his father! he wouldn't be allowed to get a word in edgewise anyway! (i apologize for immediately seeing the worst in clark, but immediately yelling at your son for doing something kind of bad before even listening to him is a red flag to me...)

and even after layton gets him to settle his anger, clark continues to be dismissive and reductive. of course, he has reason to question the prophecies his son claims to give, but it doesn't even seem like he's tried to ask luke about them: he just calls the whole matter ridiculous and leaves it at that. but then, interestingly, clark blames himself for this behavior... firstly, this is further evidence of his dismissiveness towards luke, as he sees his supposed soothsaying as something to be blamed for; secondly, in some way we do not yet know (he changed the subject and left before elaborating), he feels responsible for luke's current state, as if he's aware of his shortcomings as a father.

this fellow seems to be friends with luke's mother, and finds it odd that she's left for so long without speaking a word, suggesting that perhaps she's had a spat with clark. notably, even though he proceeds to dismiss this, saying the two are a happy couple, luke briefly interjects as if his parents have indeed argued recently. in general, i'm inclined to believe luke's home life isn't the rosiest...

[rainedragon]

what are your thoughts on the AP showcased pieces? im so grateful you're posting them, by the way! I feel like the headpieces as always are stellar, but the dresses feel a bit uninspired; I wish they were making more complex compositions with their prints, like how Meta does.

I have feelings about the collection, and also about the show / photos. I want to preface this with saying that I like Maki's art style and her print designs more than any other brand's. So, I'm personally biased towards the AP collections a lot of the time. I also have some personal preferences when it comes to styling, trim, etc, and there are plenty of things that are perfectly decent that I just personally don't like / don't work with my personal aesteic. That said...

I like this violet print, though, honestly, I like meta violet's bouquet print better in some regards. The composition on the Meta print is better, but I like the art on the AP print. The bodice designs of the AP pieces are simple, but I personally don't have an issue with that because more detailed bodices from AP are frequently unflattering on me and I don't personally love some of the design choices Meta makes, so I'm happy when things have simple designs TBH. The meta piece has a decent bodice, I don't dislike it, except, I don't really like lace overlays, they tend to wash out the colors of the piece in a way that makes it harder to coordinate. I have this in lavender, and the overlay is less noticeable than it is on darker colors, but it does make the lavender a bit greyish. That said, the Meta dress doesn't fit me right now so I'm leaning towards trying to pick up the AP JSK if it's a better size for me.

I like the happy cake print as well. I think the OTT princess cut is a weird choice for it, but the regular JSK and the shirring JSK are both nice.

But it is... I've noticed in the past few years that it feels like Maki is burnt out or something. She's been putting out prints with no background. And I don't know if they have someone else working with her who is following her style, but falling short or if she's rushed or burnt out or what, but there are more and more of these prints where she's drawn a few key images and then the layout is... lacking. From a graphic design / art standpoint, I'd compare to Shirley Temple. Here are two recent Shirley Temple prints. The first one is a very similar concept. The artist drew a collection of related sweets (in ST's case gingerbread cookies), but instead of slapping them flat on a solid background and repeating the same cookies up the dress, they have a contrasting panel around the hem, and a collection of stripes and other background filler, with a whole collection of simple cookies for the higher up toss print. While the second ST print shown here is very intentionally designed. Even though it's simple (it's really just cherries and icing), each element is placed specifically.

What is interesting to me is that a lot of older prints from AP look a lot more like the ST prints. Where as this AP cake print looks like Maki drew a few cakes and cupcakes seperately and then ran out of time and put them together as fast as possible. I'd expect to see, say, the cherries and strawberries, from the cakes mixed with cupcakes at the top more like these past prints, than just the whole border print scaled down, repeated.

The polly pocket print is worse. While it has some shapes and ribbons at the top, the whole thing looks flat in a way that looks cheap. While I like the idea, it's not quite working for me, and the acccent buttons get lost in the toss print.

This cookie print looks like the typical all over AP print. I don't care for these, but as far as an AP-does-ETC print goes, it's fine? It's stronger than some of the recent few all over prints IMHO. The apron frill straps on the JSK feel a little over the top for a simple piece, as do the hem bows, but it's not bad.

I like the strawberry print, I think the black colorway is rough, but I generally don't like black colorways of AP pastels. The JSK and the basic OP have a good design, the OTT OP is way too much for my tastes. I also don't care for the tights, they look like they have dye bleeding issues instead of ribbons from a distance. It's not the best strawberry print they have ever made, but it's also not the worst.

The cherry print JSK is on my list. I actually really like this in white, which I usually avoid. The pink and yellow are also pretty good. The black is not bad, but there are some high contrast details on the OP that I think I'd rather see in red than black. I love the little apron, and the removable bodice insert (I think?) in the JSK. The cherry collar on the blouse is also adorable. The top of the dress is quite well done, and it shows a lot more thought (IMHO) than a lot of the other prints in the collection.

Ohanami Bunny is well done, but I don't like it. The rabbits are cute, and the toss print is good, it's just not my style. My partner who likes rabbits a ton also doesn't care for it, so there is that. I can't quite put my finger on it, but the rabbits don't look like vintage story book rabbits, or like kawaii plush rabbits. I do think the designs are nice for them, it just... isn't quite right for me. The bunny bonnet is fun.

Dolly cat is of course dolly cat. and a solid choice for a re-release (though I still want SNT, Miracle Candy or Fruits Parlor). I'm being told I can't add anymore images, so I'll have to post the solids seperate. That said I also want to add that I'm confused about some of the hair/makeup choices for this show. I don't mean this in a mean way and I don't mean this as a critism of the person or persons who did the hair / makeup, and I'm not looking at people on the street judging them like this, to be clear. It's hard to manage the hair / makeup for a show and I personally can't do it. I also think all of the models are gorgeous, but there are some models who had wigs and/or makeup that just weren't a great match for them. I can't quite explain, but a lot of the wigs are very ashy toned and then the eye make up was very... minimal? light? with heavy high blush and they gave a lot of them bold coral hot pink lips. Unless it's a trick of the light/photos, basically no one has eyeliner unless it's like... pastel or something. The effect is that the boldest things on many of them is their eyebrows, their pupils, their nostrils and their lips, but they all have pale wigs so they have tried to make their eyebrows pale as well, and this make up style just doesn't read as well as it could on some of the models. I feel like this is a really hard makeup look to pull off in general? I personally prefer when the hair/makeup is picked to match the model, versus a "show look" put on all the models. But that is a personal preference and I do understand why some designers try to make all the models match. I guess... when the hair and makeup doesn't fit the model, it feels dehumanizing to me, like the model is being used as a walking hanger. I prefer when the whole look is styled to suit the model or the model is picked for the styling, and this just didn't feel that way to me.

[tswaney17]

Happy New Year Tay! You are one of my favorite writers in this fandom. I wanted to ask you a few questions about your writing process:

What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

How do you find new fic to read?

Who do you read?

How do you decide what to write?

Are there any tropes you dislike?

What's your favorite AU that you've written?

What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it involve?

If you wrote a spin-off of [insert fic], what would it involve?

If you wrote a prequel to [insert fic], what would it involve?

f you wrote a “missing scene” in [insert fic], what would it be?

What other websites or resources do you use most often when you write?

Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

How long did it take to write [insert fic]? Describe the process.

Does anyone read your fics before you post them? If so, who?

Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

What aspects of your writing are inspired by/taken from your real life?

Do you visualize what you read/write?

Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

Did any of your fics get surprisingly popular (whatever that means to you)? Which ones? Why do you think they were so successful?

Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

Link a fic that made you think, "Wow, I want to write like that."

Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

What's something you've improved on since you started writing fic?

Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write?

What's the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

Aww, nonnie. 🥲 Thank you so much! And Happy New Year to you too!! 🥂 I hope I answered these okay. LOL.

What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?) Oh man, that's hard. I'd say Secret Sessions for canon-related, and IDBTWY or Accidental Chemistry for modern.

What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics? Probably slow burn. And pregnancy AU. I know it's not everyone's favorite, but I always end up writing Elriel pregnant. LMAO.

How do you find new fic to read? Frankly, since I've stopped writing, I've been devouring fanfic. I hit up AO3 nearly every day to see if there's anything new. And I have this logic that if I subscribe to a crap ton of fics, I'll hopefully get an update to at least one of them weekly. It's not a flawless system but I get the most out of it.

Who do you read? I honestly read everybody as long as I am confident that Elriel is endgame. I will side-eye anything that as El*cien or Gw*nriel as a potential pairing and will skim first to ensure I'll be able to make it through the story. But I have my go-to's like @nikethestatue and @dottielovegood (amongst many others), and I've found some newbies (or new to me) on AO3 and have been devouring their fics. A few that come to mind are @jasmineandcedar and @merakimoonglade but there are many more.

How do you decide what to write? Through utter chaos that is my brain. Sometimes I'll see little things on Insta or Pinterest that'll spark ideas while others will just kind of hit me out of nowhere. Kind of like this feral Az/Elriel miscarriage that's been floating around in my brain for weeks.

Are there any tropes you dislike? I am over the girlboss warrior trope. There's so much of that written that it's just boring to me. I also hate the cheating trope. I just can't read those.

What's your favorite AU that you've written? Honestly, that's hard. IDBTWY has a very special place in my heart, but Secret Sessions might be the best writing I've ever done. I'm also a sucker for Accidental Chemistry too.

What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it? Probably that feral Az/Elriel miscarriage I mentioned above. It'd be very angsty and heartbreaking but so delicious. Oh! I also have this Archeron-witch AU that's been wracking my brain forever that's based on The Originals. I have a few scenes of it written but just couldn't get into the right headspace to bust it out completely.

If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it involve? Hmm. Secret Sessions deserves an epilogue and I did start to write one a long time ago. But the idea sputtered out and I never got more than a page written. Also, my fic Queen of Monsters would definitely benefit from a sequel but I'm just going to leave that one alone.

If you wrote a spin-off of [insert fic], what would it involve? I could see writing a spin-off for IDBTWY for each of the other siblings tbh. I have no idea what those stories would include, but I think it's the best setup for any sort of spin-off. Or maybe a next-gen for IDBTWY. I have thought of things for the kids if that ever came to pass.

If you wrote a prequel to [insert fic], what would it involve? Frenemies would probably benefit from a prequel. You very much jump right into the mess but elaborating on how Elain and Az worked together before they fucked would've been interesting.

If you wrote a “missing scene” in [insert fic], what would it be? Lucien realizing the bond is broken in Secret Sessions. I had so many people ask about what he felt and if the bond was gone and I just left it up to interpretation.

What other websites or resources do you use most often when you write? I honestly don't use a lot of resources when I write. I Google things when I need to do some research and I have Grammarly to assist with the grammar side of things (which is far from perfect), but other than that, I really don't have much else. Big fics get inspo boards on Pinterest though.

Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue? No dialogue. There are some really amazing writers in this fandom that can invoke such an intense emotional response from readers simply by describing the scene without having the characters speak at all. I feel like both @dottielovegood and @violetasteracademic are exceptional at this. I would love to be able to do this as well as them.

How long did it take to write [insert fic]? Describe the process. IDBTWY took four years and it was chaos. I didn't really have an outline that went further than chapter 7 until I was well into the 20s and finally outlined the remaining 15 chapters. Do not recommend at all. I'm honestly surprised how much I was able to loop back in later on in the fic despite my unorganization of it. @nikethestatue can tell you I often went to her and asked if something occurred in my fic because I couldn't even remember. LOL.

Does anyone read your fics before you post them? If so, who? No, I don't have a beta reader and I probably should. I do give out snippets to friends though, but mostly to be a tease.

Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter? LMAO. Unholy (my Azriel priest fic) was so far outside my comfort zone. Not just because I'm not religious and likely wrote phrases and scenes that didn't make sense to the setting, but just the idea of having Azriel as a priest fuck Elain on the goddamn altar of the church. Good lord, I blushed writing it and I blushed reading it even to this day. I honestly haven't written anything since this, but I think it helped me to push through my mental barriers of writing something so outrageous.

What aspects of your writing are inspired by/taken from your real life? I know I've said this a few times, but Accidental Chemistry is loosely based on my best friend. Some of the things Elain experienced happened with her and the fic honestly hit home because of the close, personal ties. Also, Elain's obsession with creamer in every fic is my self-insert and you can't take that away from me. LOL.

Do you visualize what you read/write? Always. I often think of scenes when I'm laying in bed trying to sleep at night. I don't know if it helps put me to sleep or keeps me up because I'm constantly turning things over in my mind.

Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it? Who's Afraid of Little Old Me, my Tangled Retelling fic. I absolutely loved writing this one and doing the role reversal swap on Elain and Az was such an interesting story to write. It barely got any traction in comparison to others and I was honestly surprised by it.

Did any of your fics get surprisingly popular (whatever that means to you)? Which ones? Why do you think they were so successful? IDBTWY became fairly popular tbh, likely because the fandom was wildly engaged at the time when I first started writing it. But A Surprise Bun got more popularity than I thought it would. Enough so that I wrote two extra parts for it (technically three since it was originally intended to be a one-shot). I loved writing the dynamic between Elriel and Cassian.

Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person? I'm a heavy rereader. I will go back and reread specific scenes, entire series, etc. Don't threaten me with a good time.

Link a fic that made you think, "Wow, I want to write like that." There are so many creative writers out there and I know that I'm missing a lot, but @impossiblescissorspeachpaper, @merakimoonglade, and @violetasteracademic have incredible prose and dialect in their writing. I am envious of their talent. Truly.

Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason? I've received such amazing comments from readers and I treasure every single one. But there's been a handful of times where somebody has said that my fic was the first they read in the acotar fandom, or that it's their favorite ever, or that they were so invested in it even though they don't ship Elain and Azriel...and just reading those comments makes me feel so valued. To say that about my writing is such an honor.

What's something you've improved on since you started writing fic? I think my style of writing has definitely improved since I started. If you compare the first part of Across the Hallway (my very first fic) to my most recent ones, especially ones like Wildest Dreams or even my A Hundred Lifetimes, A Hundred Worlds, I'd Choose You series, you can definitely see the difference in my writing.

Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write? I'm a laptop writer. If I write on my phone, I'll note it because it will likely have more errors. I've only written two fics on my phone tbh. My "fast phone fics."

What's the last fic you read? Do you recommend it? I read Wonderstruck by @mirrorballpages and it is phenomenal. Highly, highly recommend it.

What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it! Oh man. I've got wips for Accidental Chemistry, this Italy-based heartbreaker that will likely never be published. I've got pieces of a post-acosf fic that will never see the light of day. Random scenes for that witch AU. I haven't been writing fic since Elriel Month, tbh. I've been more focused on my IDBTWY rewrite for publishing. But... I suppose if I do end up writing fic again, it'll be Accidental Chemistry. So here's an unedited snippet of it.

It was something he noticed the other night when he cradled the boy to his chest, promptly getting him to finally settle enough to fall asleep. He wasn’t sure if it was the sound of his heartbeat or the warmth of his skin or the deep sound of his voice as he softly sang a lullaby his mother used to hum to him or a combination thereof, but Oliver always seemed content in his arms.

[redfagdiver]

Nasty style

Sunny side up

With a little paprika on top

Missionary

Squirting on it and then leaving, like a fish

While listening to mambo number 5

After getting tinified by a mad scientist

Fucking someone who doesn't know they're trans yet

Necromancy

In front of an American flag

While riding a bike

Dr. Seuss style

Fucking someone named egg

Gentle foot massage

Film a porno with it

Covered in chocolate

Waiting for the egg to fall on them from a Rube Goldberg machine

Getting isekai'd and bringing back a dragon egg and fucking that

Microwave

Throwing it into the ocean like the necklace from Titanic

Being rude to it

Gangbang

A classic omelette

Putting back inside the chicken that laid it

Putting it back inside themself

Inviting the egg's husband to watch

Dropping it into a volcano

Finding it in an ancient tomb first (sarcophagus)

Egg on a spoon race

Just Having Fun With It

Making

Ladling it out of a soup

With the Easter bunny

Sensually making out with it

Burying it in the sand and waiting for it to grow into an egg tree (this one doesn't work)

Gun

In a shady back alley

On the red carpet

Using it as a bowling ball

Ballroom dancing

Artificial insemination

Thinking it just died and crying over it until their tears seemingly bring it back to life

Egg salad

Sonic the hedgehog style (they won't tell me what it means)

Like a rack of ribs

Inside a grand piano

Taking it through customs

Pretending they're not related to it

Throwing it out and making instant noodles instead

Nibbling on it like a lil mouse :3

Just vibing with it really hard

Telling it a secret every so softly

Wrapped up in banana leaves (the chef not the egg)

Doggy style

On an airplane

Keeping it between their ass cheeks for a reaaaally long time, like, way longer than you think. I mean that, whatever amount of time you're thinking of right now, double it AT LEAST. And if you're wondering how they can keep it there and still go to the bathroom, believe me, they have their ways, ways so wicked and deranged I couldn't talk about them in any capacity without getting banned from Tumblr or worse. Actually, I probably should've mentioned this earlier but you probably shouldn't be reading this at all, the chefs might come after me if they know I'm divulging their secrets, but the world has a right to know. Plus, OP started it, if you're going to start telling on them you have to go all the way or you're giving them even more power, and believe me, you don't want that. If I get deactivated in the next few days, you'll know why.

In public (secretly)

In public (explicitly)

While holding on to their last thread of childhood wonder

With a nice rosé

While vehemently denying that they're doing it

In a bog

On a log

With a frog

Wearing clogs

Eggnog

Re-enacting that part of the beauty and the beast song where they go "I need six eggs. That's too expensive!"

Breaking twitch streaming guidelines

Ultimate frisbee

Throwing it at the ex-chefs dedicated to spilling their secrets, killing me- I mean them instantly

Making it pass through their entire digestive track intact

Drawing a sexy face on it

While doing your mom

Deviled (literally)

Slicing it in half real cool like a samurai

In New York City

Like in a soap opera

Leaving it on the sidewalk for someone else to find

Trapping it then leaving it on the sidewalk for someone else to find

With the help of the pope

In a movie directed by Zack Snyder

Under the moonlight and the starry sky, wondering what they did to earn such perfect company

Skydiving

During an alien abduction

The worst way you can think of

Poached

Poached in the worst way you can think of

Anal

Making sure to post someone else's unfinished Tumblr post

While wearing sunglasses

While not wearing sunglasses

While wearing the hat they earned for knowing the Hundred Ways, thereby creating a paradox

Asking really niceys

As fast as they can

Almost as fast as they can

While calling their friend from college they haven't heard from in a while

Replacing people you had to take out with highly intelligent bots on social media so it looks less suspicious

Just straight up inserting their appendage into it and thrusting in and out

Scrambled

While watching the whistle blower blower you just killed take their last brea

The folds in a chefs hat represent the hundred ways they know how to fuck an egg.

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

can i resquest something with balde where theyre friedns with benefits, with smut or spice

i have never written for him before, so that was a challenge, but i hope you like it!

nye fwb | alejandro balde

🎉 synopsis: Two best friends, the only single ones at their New Year’s Eve party, reluctantly share a midnight kiss as a joke, only to discover undeniable chemistry that leads them to an impulsive, awkward, and hilariously passionate first hookup, all while vowing to keep it casual. tags: friends to friends with benefits, banter, light smut, awkward but sweet. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) (around 2.6k words)

The music pounded through the speakers, someone had turned the living room into a makeshift dance floor, complete with cheap strobe lights and half-empty cups strewn across every available surface. Your friend group was spread out in their usual pairs, laughing, kissing, clinking glasses – a nauseating display of holiday cheer that only highlighted the fact that you were standing alone by the snack table, fiddling with a plastic champagne flute.

Alejandro Balde appeared at your side, effortlessly cool as usual, with a knowing smirk that immediately set off your internal alarms. “So,” he said, “what’s the plan for midnight?”

You blinked at him. “The plan?”

“Yeah. You and me,” he said with a grin that made your stomach flip. “Everyone else has someone. Seems like we might as well.”

You gasped. “Ale, that’s practically incest.”

He froze, his face contorting with genuine confusion. “It’s not like we’re related.”

“You know what I mean,” you said, already regretting the metaphor. “We’re in the same friend group. It would be weird.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Weird how? Everyone else is dating. What’s the harm?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the countdown had already begun. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. Alejandro gave you a playful shove closer to him, his smirk daring you to argue.

Seven. Six. Five. Your eyes met his and he tilted his head, a silent question.

Four. Three. Two. Before you could overthink it, you leaned in, grabbing his shirt just as the clock struck midnight.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured.

“Happy New Year,” you echoed, and then his mouth was on yours.

The kiss was supposed to be casual, a brief acknowledgment of the holiday and your shared singleness, but it wasn’t. It was something else entirely. Heat surged between you, undeniable and immediate, and when you pulled back, his hand lingered at your waist.

“Okay,” he said, his voice a little unsteady, “what the hell was that?”

You shook your head, barely able to catch your breath. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to…?” He trailed off, looking around the crowded room, and you understood what he meant without him finishing the sentence.

“Yeah,” you said, already grabbing his hand.

You ducked out of the main room and into a quiet hallway, finding an unoccupied corner. He kissed you again, more urgently this time, and your back hit the wall as his hands found your hips. It was reckless and impulsive and so completely unlike the two of you that it almost made you laugh – except you were too busy kissing him to care.

“This is insane,” he said.

“Probably,” you agreed, not moving an inch.

“So what happens now?”

“We make a deal,” you said, your voice steadier than you expected. “Just for tonight. We hook up, and then we go back to being friends tomorrow.”

He considered this for a moment. “Just tonight?”

“Just tonight,” you confirmed.

“Alright,” he said, “But you’re the one who’s going to have to stop me tomorrow.”

You were barely out of the hallway before Alejandro grabbed your hand again, pulling you through the crowd. “You’re gonna get us caught,” you hissed, dodging someone’s drink as you stumbled after him.

“Relax,” he shot back, looking over his shoulder with a grin that was way too confident for someone sneaking off like that. “No one’s paying attention.”

You looked around, heart hammering, sure someone was watching – but nope. Everyone was too busy making out or singing off-key to whatever remix was blaring. You were invisible.

He stopped in front of a random door upstairs, jiggled the handle, and – thankfully – it opened. “After you,” he said, giving a dramatic bow like he was inviting you into a five-star suite instead of what looked like someone’s guest room.

“Oh, how romantic,” you deadpanned, stepping inside. The room was small, a pile of coats sat at the foot of the bed, a forgotten casualty of the party. “You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”

Alejandro kicked the door shut, leaning back against it with a shrug. “Hey, you knew what you signed up for.” His smirk was back, but he also looked nervous, maybe? Or was that just wishful thinking?

“Right,” you muttered, suddenly hyper-aware of how quiet it was. Alejandro stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking at you like he was trying to figure out the next move.

“So, uh –”

“You’re being awkward,” you blurted, crossing your arms.

“Me? You’re being awkward,” he shot back, but there was a laugh tucked in there, soft and a little shaky.

“Okay, shut up,” you said, stepping closer because if you stood there analyzing his face any longer, you were going to combust.

“Gladly,” he murmured, meeting you halfway.

The kiss was messy, rushed, the kind of kiss that made you both laugh against each other’s mouths because your noses bumped. His hands landed on your waist, yours tangled in his shirt, and for a second, you thought, Wow, this is going to be the most awkward thing we’ve ever done.

Then his lips moved against yours, slower this time, and you thought, Okay, maybe not.

Clothes started coming off – or at least, you tried. Alejandro got tangled in his sweater, swearing under his breath as he fought to pull it over his head. You snorted, trying (and failing) to hide your laugh.

“Oh, you think this is funny?” he asked, finally freeing himself and tossing the sweater onto the coat pile.

“A little,” you admitted, reaching for the buttons on your shirt.

“Need help?” he teased, stepping closer.

“Nope, I’m good –” One of the buttons snagged, and you groaned. “Okay, maybe.”

He grinned, brushing your hands aside to do it himself. His fingers fumbled, though, and you caught the way his ears flushed. “See? Not so easy, is it?”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, but his voice was warm, fond, the way it always got when it was just the two of you.

Once the shirt was off, things started moving faster. His lips found your neck, and you bit back a laugh. “Sorry,” he murmured, pulling back.

“No, it’s – it’s fine,” you said quickly, tilting your head. “Just… different.”

“Good different?”

You nodded, your hands tracing his chest, and his breathing hitched. “Good different.”

Finally, you ended up on the bed, your legs tangled together as you laughed at the way the mattress squeaked every time one of you shifted. “This bed is going to rat us out,” you muttered, and he laughed, his breath warm against your shoulder.

“Guess we better make it quick, then.”

“Smooth,” you said, rolling your eyes, but the teasing edge in your voice softened when his lips found your collarbone.

Things slowed down, the nervousness melting into something more natural. His hands skimmed over your skin, careful but confident, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d always been this good at making you feel like the center of the universe.

When his mouth moved lower, you squirmed instinctively, a mix of surprise and nervous laughter bubbling up. His lips brushed even lower, taking their time, tasting your most special place. Every press was soft and maddening in a way that left you breathless. You let out a shaky exhale, his hands sliding to your sides to steady you as you squirmed again. It was impossible not to; the slow, deliberate way he was working his way down was almost too much.

And then, all at once, it was electric. He found a rhythm that made your breath hitch, your fingers curling into the sheets, and suddenly you were less concerned about what he was doing and more concerned about how you could possibly keep yourself together.

“Alejandro,” you managed, your voice breaking on the second syllable.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice muffled but full of infuriating confidence.

You had no answer – at least, not one you could give in words. Your head tipped back, your eyes squeezing shut as a wave of heat rolled through you, every nerve ending sparking to life. It was overwhelming, intense, and completely unexpected, and when the sensation finally crested, it left you boneless and breathless.

He gave you a moment to catch your breath, pressing a few soft kisses against your skin as you blinked up at the ceiling, your heart pounding in your ears. Finally, he lifted his head, resting his chin lightly against your hip as he looked up at you, his grin now warm and a little too proud.

“What’s that look for?” you asked, as you fought to steady your voice.

“Nothing,” he said, but the sparkle in his eyes said otherwise.

When it was your turn to take control, you didn’t hesitate – not because you weren’t nervous (oh, you were), but because he had ignited something competitive in you. You flipped the roles with a little more enthusiasm than grace, pushing him onto his back and sliding down just far enough to see the way his expression shifted from confident to wide-eyed in an instant.

“You’re squirming,” you pointed out, grinning as you hovered over him.

“Yeah, well,” he said, swallowing hard, his voice taking on a breathy edge that made your cheeks heat. “I don’t exactly hate it.”

His hands found your hair, firm but hesitant, like he wasn’t sure whether to guide you or let you figure it out. That flicker of uncertainty in his otherwise unshakable confidence was a rush all its own, and you couldn’t resist leaning in, testing the waters with a teasing press of your lips.

When you finally took all of him in your mouth, his sharp intake of breath sent a thrill through you, even as your own nerves were jangling. You took your time, trying to find a rhythm, listening closely to the soft sounds he couldn’t quite suppress.

“Not – oh,” he started, his voice breaking on the word. His hands tensed on your hair, fingers flexing, and you couldn’t help but smile around him, the movement making him groan.

“Not fair,” he muttered, his voice tight but laced with a laugh that was almost disbelieving.

“Mmf,” you mumbled, trying to answer. You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, but your mouth was still otherwise occupied. Whatever you were trying to say came out garbled, and his laugh turned breathless.

“Okay, what?” he asked, tilting his head to look down at you, his grin equal parts adoring and amused.

You tried again, this time letting go long enough to say, “Fair’s overrated.” But before you could get the words out properly, his hips shifted under you, and you couldn’t stop the surprised little noise that escaped you.

“Fair’s... overrated,” you managed, your voice muffled but determined.

He let out a soft, shaky laugh, his head tipping back against the pillow. 

The way his whole body reacted, every little twitch and stuttered breath was feeding your confidence. You leaned into it, testing your own boundaries, boundaries you hadn’t even realized you wanted to cross, until his groan melted into a laugh.

“Alright,” he said after a moment, his voice ragged but tinged with amusement. “Now you’re just showing off.”

You pulled back slightly, wiping at your lips with the back of your hand as you looked up at him. “Maybe,” you said, grinning as you tilted your head to meet his gaze.

The grin he gave you in return was crooked, lazy, and completely disarming. “You’re way too good at this,” he murmured, his voice softening. 

“Okay,” you said, breathless. “How do we... do this?”

He shifted, positioning himself above you, his hands braced on either side of your shoulders as he looked between you and the tangled mess of limbs you’d somehow become. “Uh, I think we’re supposed to know this part?”

“You’d think,” you shot back, biting your lip to keep from laughing again as he adjusted slightly.

The first attempt position was straightforward, a classic, but something wasn’t clicking. You both froze halfway through, his face hovering above yours as he raised an eyebrow.

“Is this... okay?” he asked, his voice soft but a little uncertain.

You tilted your head, considering it. “I mean, it’s fine, but –”

“Fine?” He feigned offense, pulling back with an exaggeratedly wounded look.

You snorted, nudging him playfully with your knee. “I didn’t mean you, I meant – this! It’s not quite... you know.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up a hand like he was calling a timeout. “We’ll try something else.”

The second attempt involved a lot of shuffling, some trial-and-error, and more than a few awkward laughs. At one point, his elbow slipped, and he nearly face-planted into your shoulder.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, as he tried to stabilize himself.

“You good down there?” you teased, fighting the urge to dissolve into giggles.

“Barely,” he admitted, his grin returning as he shifted again. “Alright, let’s think – there’s gotta be a better way.”

After another failed attempt, you both collapsed onto the bed, laughing so hard you could barely breathe. “This is a disaster,” you said between giggles, wiping at your eyes.

“Hey, don’t give up on me yet,” Alejandro said, propping himself up on one elbow. “I think I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh?” you asked, skeptical but intrigued as he sat up, his eyes thoughtful.

“Yeah,” he said, moving back into position. He reached for your leg, lifting it carefully until your knee was bent at a sharp angle. “What about... this?”

You blinked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Ale, what are you doing?”

“Just trust me,” he said, his grin widening.

And somehow, against all odds, that worked. The moment he adjusted your leg, the angle shifted, and everything clicked into place. Your breath hitched as a bolt of something electric shot through you, and judging by the way Alejandro froze, his grip tightening slightly, he felt it too.

“Wait,” he said, his voice a mix of surprise and awe. “That’s –”

“Yeah,” you cut in, nodding quickly. “That’s good. Really good.”

He let out a shaky laugh, his head dropping forward for a moment before he met your eyes again, his grin returning full force. “Told you I knew what I was doing.”

“Don’t get cocky,” you teased, though your breathlessness undercut the jab.

“Too late,” he said, his tone softening as he found a rhythm that made your toes curl. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you managed, though it came out a little broken as the intensity built.

The teasing slowed, replaced by murmured encouragements and soft gasps as you both found a really good rhythm. You lost track of time, the moment stretching out until you both hit your peak together, a shared rush that left you dazed.

When it was over, Alejandro slumped beside you, his arm draped lazily across your stomach as you both tried to catch your breath.

“Okay,” he said, “So that happened.”

“Yep,” you said, popping the ‘p’ as you turned your head to look at him.

He looked at you, his grin softening. “You good?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You?”

“Yeah,” he said, rolling onto his side to face you. “I mean, unless you’re gonna roast me for, like, the next decade.”

“Oh, I absolutely am,” you said, your laugh breaking the tension.

“Fair,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “But for the record, this was... nice. You’re nice.”

“Don’t make it weird,” you said, but your voice was warm, and so was the way you leaned into his touch.

“Too late,” he teased, pulling you closer.

[snakeunderyourboot]

kind of obsessed with this theme of not belonging to earth in midnight burger

like....Gloria, Ava, Casper and Leif. They are all humans. They were born on Earth, they lived there their whole life, they know how to act and behave when they are with other humans.

And yet. Earth is not for them.

It is seen primarily in Leif, with hjis whole backstory. Even his own mother referring to him as someone "who fell out from space". He left the Earth with the first chance and he never looked back. Sure, he may sometimes grow nostalgic, but he never regretted his decision. Earth is not his home and the problem is not even in how much Earth is undeveloped not only by the standards of Triad but even by Leif's standards. He doesn't understand people, he doesn't understand why they do what they do. What's even more prominent with Leif is how the only space he belongs is SPACE. Like COSMOS. Not some other planet or moon, just the entirety of space. His first real friend is an alien journalist!!! And the only humans he managed to connect to are literary the ones pulled from 20 years from his time(on Earth) and in a dimension spinning time warping diner!

But this idea, of not belonging to Earth, is also present in Gloria and Ava and even Casper. It's not as prominent as with Leif, but it is still present.

Gloria admits she never liked the idea of marriage and kids. Her parents were the only stable relationship she had. Her whole life, blood and soul was her restaurant and when she lost it she had no idea what to do with herself.

Ava, who as we know, is so much smarter than everyone else. The academia hurt her so much because they didn't understand her. She wanted to figure out the WHOLE UNIVERSE and had not only the guts to do it, but also the brain power. Somewhere, where other people would long gave up, she remained stubborn and victorious.

And even Casper. I must admit, right now I am only on episode 38 and this whole season seems to be heavily focused on Casper and his relation to the diner, so I may not know something BUT! BUT! You cannot tell me, that his son running from home wasn't his excuse to get out from his life. Of course, he went looking for him, no objections here, but it also was an opportunity for him to sort of quit. Just get out. I'm not sure what the future holds for him, there are hints that he may leave Midnight Burger, which honestly I kiiiind of sad about it? I think it would be really cool if he has a chance to leave the midnight burger but chose not to. Because now - similar to how it was at the end of season 2, when he talked to Ava - he chooses this. He chooses those people, he chooses Midnight Burger. It is a conscious choice, the same it was with Ava, Gloria, and Leif.

Anyway. Something about you being born on this planet and then realizing this is not your planet. The problem is not with you or your environment, the problem is with the whole fucking planet. Something about you being stuck there because humanity made only the first steps into space exploration and you will die sooner than get into space. You living with this thought that you are stuck here. There is no escape.

And then you see a diner.

[mandalhoerian]

i've been in the far orbit of this argument for a while and I'm really baffled why people can't be understanding of each other's perspectives and i'm sorry for what you're going through...

i want to have a little break-it-down for reblog's sakes if anyone wants to put this in their blog because there is MUCH to be said about the non-MC and you are the MC angles. spoiler alert: there is no wrong answer. it's about respect & understanding.

you are the main character

This perspective is all about inclusivity and self-insertion, which is honestly such a big draw for otome games in general. The idea is simple: you’re not just playing a game--you’re imagining yourself in the game. Your avatar is customizable, so you can tweak your appearance to reflect how you see yourself, or even how you want to see yourself. It’s like being dropped into an isekai where you’re not just some regular person--you’re someone special.

and HEY, who doesn’t want to imagine themselves as this badass, idealized version of themselves? In this game, you’re a cool hunter, you’ve got skills, you’re navigating this wild sci-fi/fantasy world with monsters and powers & oh yeah, you’ve got a literal aether core in your chest. That core isn’t just a plot device, it’s a metaphor for potential, for becoming something more. The game practically screams, “Hey, this could be you! Look how powerful and capable you could be!” It’s empowering in a way, and I totally get why people love this angle. It’s fun to imagine yourself as the one charming the LIs, holding your own in battle, and rising to the challenge of this world.

For people who vibe with this, it’s about escapism and self-expression. You don’t want to read about someone else being awesome, you want yourself to be awesome. It’s the ultimate power fantasy.

key word: power fantasy. which brings me to

you are NOT the main character

The argument here is that while the game tries to sell the MC as us, it just......... doesn’t land for a lot of players. Let’s start with the fact that this is a Chinese game, and the default character design is heavily rooted in East Asian beauty standards. Which is fine. It's their game, I'm not complaining I'm just telling it as it is. Yes, the skin tones are inclusive, and I’ll give them credit for that, but the body type? The facial features? The overall aesthetic? It’s not exactly universal. I mean, take a good look at my big fat ass and tell me how I’m supposed to feel immersed when the MC looks like a dainty stick figure who’d snap in half if she ever actually tried to fight (despite all the "abs" talk.) Like, she’s cute, sure, but she’s not me. And definitely not you. (Don't talk to me about "she has to look like that because she's a hunter, remember". all of us know that's not the case. it's about beauty standards.)

And then there’s the way she acts. Oh boy,,,,,,,, Sometimes it feels like she’s actively trying to make the worst decisions possible. It’s one thing to be flawed, flaws are human and relatable, but there are moments, especially in the Sylus arc, where I’m sitting there like, “Girl, what are you doing?!” She makes choices that I would never make, and it pulls me right out of the story because it’s not even a matter of imagining myself in her shoes anymore. It’s like watching a character in a TV show make a bad call, and you’re yelling at the screen, but it’s not like you can change what happens. That's okay, though, it's not a sin. She has her own personality, her own reactions, and her own story, and while that makes for a compelling narrative, it also makes it really clear that she’s not us.

For people who lean toward the “non-MC” argument, it’s frustrating because the game is selling this experience as one where we’re supposed to see ourselves in the MC, but she’s written in a way that feels so disconnected from how many of us would act or feel. It’s hard to immerse yourself in a story when the character representing you feels so far removed from who you are or who you want to be.

so what?

Honestly, I think this boils down to what you’re looking for in the game. If you’re someone who loves the “you are the MC” vibe, then you’re probably willing to overlook or even embrace the gaps between you and the character because the customization and the overarching narrative of personal growth are enough to make you feel seen. But if you’re in the “non-MC” camp, then every time the MC makes a cringe-worthy choice or the story reminds you that she’s more of a predefined character than a blank slate, it’s going to take you out of the experience. (This was me in "No Defense Zone", I had to put my phone down and do laps around in my room out of second hand embarrassment.)

Maybe the real issue here is that the game is trying to have it both ways. It wants to tell a story with a strong narrative and a compelling lead character, but it also wants to let players insert themselves into that story. And honestly? That’s a tough balance to strike. It works for some people, but for others, it ends up feeling like a half-measure that doesn’t fully satisfy either camp.

At the end of the day, I think it’s okay to feel a little jealous of the MC because, in a way, she isn’t us. She’s her own character, living her own life in this world, and we’re just along for the ride. And whether you see her as “you” or as “another character,” what really matters is how much you’re enjoying the story. So let’s keep discussing it, but maybe we can stop tearing each other apart and harrass people over it. It’s okay to love the game for what it is—or even for what it isn’t.

Guys I may be mentally insane but ... Why do I low-key feel jealous of MC when I see clips of the upcoming cards... Especially the Sylus one..

IK SHE'S MEANT TO BE US BUT 😭😭

[secretagentsagainstwhatever]

my autism: i really really hate the shower

me: that’s ok we can bath

my ocd: i really really hate the shower curtain

me: no guys it’s really really ok we can just bath

my epilepsy:…..🥲

[egophiliac]

do skully have pokemon?

Pumpkaboo is the obvious one, but y'know, sometimes the obvious one is the right one! (we'll say SUPER SIZE Pumpkaboo, just for fun. big pumpkin for big skeleton boy.) and another person actually also suggested Greavard, which I somehow hadn't considered, but feels so perfect that I feel like I should have. dangit.

(they can also have little Nightmare Suit costumes :D)

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[mymitochondriaforpresident]

“I feel safe with Edvin.” -Omar Rudberg [x]

[lemongogo]