#but inside view seems to improve things

[etirabys]

I'm pretty depressed and am aware that the process of exiting this step needs to be split in some way across myself and others, but The Horrors present themselves to me as one atomic entity; whenever I attempt to explain The Horrors it feels like I simply make a copy of the atom, pass it to a friend, and then it vanishes out of their hands

[cheralith]

— all i breathe in is your life. feat. itoshi sae || wc: 1.1k contains: gn!reader, no pronouns used, secret relationship, just pure fluff :P

sae doesn't really tell people things about himself.

he thinks he doesn't need to—unless it involves soccer, he sees no use in people attempting to pry at his personal self other than to just scratch the surface level of itoshi sae, professional soccer player. all the masses need to know is that he's a midfielder, he's from japan, and itoshi rin is his little brother.

so shock comes as a severe understatement to his team when they find out that he's married after one of them overhears sae telling their coach he can't make to a press conference because he'll be celebrating his wedding anniversary.

sae understandably gets bombarded the moment he enters the locker room to his disdain. many of his teammates have coupled up with celebrities, models, and influencers—per modern athlete fashion—so they provoke him with who this mystery person is.

"none of your business," he snaps, clearly irritated.

some of them think it's a fluke, just his way to get out of dealing with the media, as sae bears no ring on his left ringer and has never been seen wearing it in public (though, arguably, sae is a hard figure to catch outside the field anyways). but all sae has to do is roll his eyes, take out a travel-sized jewelry holder, and put on his wedding ring to flash at them.

"well shit, man," one of his younger teammates, a notoriety amongst the media for being a bit of a playboy, laugh. "how long have you been chained down for?"

the phrase irks him a bit. to view marriage as a prison seems contemptuous to him—no wonder this guy can't hold down a relationship.

sae shuts his locker door, eyes still bored as ever as he makes his way to the exit.

"four years going on five," he mutters, a smidgen of entertainment for them just to shut them up for good. "you're lucky if your career ever lasts as long."

he gawks at him, ready to fire back an insult, but sae's already disappeared through the door. sae makes his way to the lobby of his team's training facility, where he sees you, their assistant manager, sitting patiently at one of the tables nearest to the window.

"ah, sae," you greet with a friendly smile, tablet with his stats on hand. "there you are."

he only gives you a silent nod of acknowledgement in return, sparing nothing for you but an ear to listen as you read off his comments given to them by their coach as you always do with each member. there's nothing much to improve on, seeing as how he's essentially the definition of perfection in regards to soccer, but he still clutches onto the occasional whisper of criticism to help him improve.

he bids you goodbye, reminding you that he won't be at the press conference this evening and to have a nice evening, before he exits out the doors and makes his way to his car. the silence that bestows upon him when he enters it makes him feel at peace... until his phone rings.

an audible groan escapes him; sae swipes at his phone, ready to curse out what was probably his teammate he insulted earlier or his coach, but the annoyance within him disappears the moment he sees a familiar name.

he picks it up carefully, staring straight ahead of him into the lobby of the facility.

a well-known greets him first. "hi there."

"hey," he mutters softly... a hint of affection in his voice.

"so, apparently the restaurant is all booked for tonight," you whisper into the phone, sae watching your lips move in sync from inside the safety of his car. "i got us this other restaurant near roppongi, is that okay?"

sae nods, hoping that you can see it through the lobby. "that's fine. what time should i start leaving the house to meet you there after the conference?"

a sweet, thoughtful hum passes through. "how 'bout 7:00? meet there at 7:30? conference ends at 6:30, but i'll leave a bit early to catch a cab and beat traffic."

disapproval seeps into his sigh. "i still think it's better if i pick you up."

"haha, no way. and risk being caught?" you laugh, giggling when you see sae's scrunched face through the window of the lobby from his car.

"i just don't like the thought of you being in a car alone with a stranger," he says, his tone droll as ever but you've known him long enough to detect that subtle worry in his voice.

"i appreciate the thought, my darling husband," you remark as you gaze upon your five-year-old wedding ring sae gave you. "but we've worked this hard to keep it under wraps. one cab ride won't kill me. it's just so that we don't have to take two cars home."

sae doesn't enjoy the feeling of defeat, but all his ego comes to humble itself whenever you were the one that bestowed it upon him. only the person he stood across the altar from half a decade ago would only be able to do such to itoshi sae.

"fine..." he grumbles, watching as you grin rather stupidly your gain. "send over the address. and don't be late."

"yessir," you give him a childish salute from the lobby, one that he has to fight cracking a smile at, your playfulness never once fading at the slightest from the moment he met you.

though he does admit it's hard trying to keep your relationship behind closed doors, especially since you're a non-celebrity, but it's all worth it when he gets to wake up to your face and kiss it right before he falls into a deep slumber, your body intertwined his with a tenderness being connected with his—a silent murmur of "i love you" to end off another day with you.

just before he ends the call, your voice reaches him once more.

"sae?"

he blinks, removing his hovering finger over the red button to let your words reach him, not wanting to waste any word that comes out of your lips go uncherished.

"yeah?"

you turn to face him directly from where you were in the lobby, only the window of it and the window of the his car being your only barriers between each other. affection spreads upon your features, one that makes sae mimic on his own.

"happy anniversary, my love," you profess tenderly to him. "i love you."

a warmth embeds itself within him when he admires you from his car. five years may not necessarily be the longest of time to some people, but to think that you and him have lasted this long together brings about a peace that he treasures on the daily and will continue to do so forevermore if you're by his side.

his eyes soften, staring at you in pure devotion.

"i love you too," sae confesses. "happy anniversary."

[b1xi]

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Tsukishima Kei(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

"I'm sorry, but only one manager is allowed on the bench," one of the organizers stopped you, stepping in your way just as you were about to follow Ukai and the rest of the team.

"What?" you asked, frowning in disbelief as you came to a halt. You turned your head toward Yachi, who had also stayed by your side, clearly just as confused.

"But we..." you began to say, indignation rising in your voice as you tried to take another step.

"Tournament rules," the man replied, unbothered, with the calmness of someone who had repeated the same thing far too many times that day.

You held back a sharp retort and exhaled in frustration. It was ridiculous. You had been by the team’s side throughout training—preparing water bottles, organizing schedules, taking notes. And now, at the most important moment, they were asking you to stay on the sidelines.

You felt Yachi’s hand gently rest on your shoulder. When you turned around, you found her smiling—small, a little tense, but determined.

"It’s okay! Come on, we can still cheer for the team from the stands. Let’s go!" Yachi exclaimed with forced enthusiasm, trying to lift both your spirits.

Before you could respond, she took your hand firmly and led you through the crowd that was starting to settle into the bleachers. Despite the disappointment still weighing on your chest, her warm gesture managed to draw a faint smile from you.

The buzz inside the gym grew louder with every step. Voices, cheers, and footsteps echoed across the polished floor as you searched for a good spot. Finally, you stopped at a raised corner with a perfect view of the court. From there, you could see the Karasuno team gathered by the bench, getting ready. Ukai was speaking seriously, Daichi nodded, and the others stretched in silence, tense and focused.

You were surprised to see the former coach Ukai had come to watch the match as well. He stood next to someone he seemed to know, not far from where you were. Shoyo had mentioned him before, saying he was a rather strict man, but had been key in helping him improve his blocks.

You turned when two boys, younger than you, looked at you and Yachi curiously.

"Are you from Karasuno too?"

The boy tilted his head slightly, confused.

"What are you doing up here?"

"O-only one manager is allowed on the bench," Hitoka answered nervously. You nodded to confirm her words and turned your gaze back to the court, your brows knitting slightly as the tension in the air settled in around you.

But your worries faded the moment Karasuno scored the first point. A clean, precise play that lit up the crowd’s excitement and allowed you to breathe a little easier. It looked like they were off to a solid start, and against this team, the odds of victory seemed promising. You could allow yourself to enjoy the game without so much tension.

"Nice one, Kei!" you shouted enthusiastically, raising your voice above the noise in the gym just after Tsukishima executed a flawless block against Ohgiminami’s attacker.

You bounced lightly with excitement, clapping your hands in front of your chest. Pride swelled in your chest, swept up by the energy of the moment, while Yachi laughed beside you, sharing your elation.

Down below, Tsukishima didn’t turn around, but you caught the slight tension in his shoulders, as if he had heard your voice among all the others. A small smile tugged at your lips as you let yourself get carried away by the match.

It was a clean victory. Fairly easy, if you were being honest with yourself. Harsh as it might sound, there wasn’t much to highlight from Ohgiminami’s team: their formation was standard, predictable, and their blocks lacked the aggression or precision you were used to seeing in more competitive teams. They did a decent job within their capabilities, of course, but the contrast with Karasuno’s dynamic was obvious.

-------------------

It was shocking to see the next opponent step onto the court. You had heard the guys whispering about a particularly tall player on Kakugawa’s team, but like many times before, you assumed they were exaggerating. That wasn’t the case. The moment you saw him walk past you, you realized they had been serious: that player didn’t just stand out among his teammates — he looked like a tower in a sea of rooftops.

A volleyball player might have technical limitations, but height —especially when positioned near the net— is an undeniable advantage. And this number nine had plenty of it.

“I didn’t think Kakugawa’s number nine was actually that tall…” you thought as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, barely turning your head so as not to be too obvious.

“There’s not that much of a difference,” you murmured more to yourself than to anyone else. You were 1.66 meters tall; he was around 2.01. Only — you told yourself — 35 centimeters. Technically, there were players in Karasuno with whom you also shared a considerable height gap, though maybe not such an overwhelming one.

“He’s not that tall,” you finally said, crossing your arms and pretending to be more confident than you actually felt.

Hinata, who stood beside you, looked at you with wide eyes, as if he had just heard the greatest sports blasphemy of his life.

“Not that tall!?” he repeated in disbelief. “Are you blind?”

“No,” you replied casually, a small smile on your lips. “He seems tall because we’re short. But for someone over 1.70, the difference doesn’t seem that dramatic,” you explained calmly, convinced of your point of view. “Right, Asahi-senpai?”

You turned your head slightly toward the senior, waiting for his support. However, Asahi remained silent for a moment, staring at the Kakugawa player as if he had seen a walking tower. His expression said it all: not even he, with his solid build and respectable height, seemed comfortable in the presence of the towering opponent.

“Uhm… well…” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck with clear discomfort. “To be honest, he is kind of intimidating…”

Hinata nodded vigorously, as if he had just won a crucial argument.

Even if that player was two meters tall, he was still a rookie compared to the experience and cohesion of Karasuno’s starting lineup. While he did cause some trouble during the first set—blocking effectively and using his height smartly—the team managed to regain their footing. It was at a key moment that Kageyama and Hinata executed that quick attack they had perfected in practice. That move reignited the team’s spirit, and for the final point, Hinata managed to break through the giant’s block with a precise spike, securing their victory.

After the initial excitement and the shared cheers with the team, you offered to help Kiyoko and Yachi gather the water bottles, towels, and other items from the bench. Once everything was in order, you joined the others in the exit hallway. The group was making their way down the stairs at a relaxed pace, trading jokes and still riding the high of their win.

That was when a sudden shout startled you, making you lift your eyes from the handheld console in your hands.

“Ah! I forgot my lunch!” Hinata shouted, coming to an abrupt stop.

Everyone turned with puzzled expressions, just in time to see him spin around and dash back toward the court.

The instinct to keep walking while looking up almost got you in trouble. You slightly tripped on the edge of one of the steps at the exit, losing your balance. Before you could fall—or even drop the console—a firm hand grabbed you by the strap of your bag, stopping you in your tracks.

“Be more careful,” Tsukishima murmured, still holding onto the strap with two hooked fingers.

“Thanks…” you whispered with a faint blush, quietly adjusting your bag.

The ride back was calm, almost peaceful. The gentle sway of the bus, combined with the barely audible murmur of scattered conversations, created an almost drowsy atmosphere. Some were sound asleep, their heads leaning against the windows or the seats. Others, like you, preferred to get lost in the dim glow of a handheld console as the nighttime scenery slowly passed by outside the window.

Hinata, exhausted from the match, quickly gave in to sleep. He rested his head on your shoulder without hesitation, mumbling something unintelligible before falling still. You didn’t push him away. You simply adjusted your posture a bit so he’d be more comfortable and went back to your game, alternating between the screen and watching the sky grow completely dark.

When you finally arrived back at school, everyone got off the bus slowly, dragging their bags and yawning without shame. You said goodbye to each of them with a soft smile, wishing the players a good rest and thanking Kiyoko and Yachi for all their help.

“See you tomorrow,” you said with a small wave, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you prepared to walk home.

“I’m walking with you,” Tsukishima announced, not asking for permission as he slung his backpack over one shoulder, avoiding your gaze.

You didn’t argue. You simply nodded, and the two of you walked in silence for a couple of blocks, wrapped in the quiet of the night. The sound of your synchronized footsteps was the only thing filling the air for a few minutes.

“The weather’s starting to change,” you commented, your eyes on the clear sky. “In a few days, it’ll probably start to feel colder.”

Tsukishima let out a soft hum of agreement. He wasn’t the talkative type, but he never cut you off when you spoke. In fact, you’d come to notice that he always listened, even when he pretended not to.

“I’ve been thinking… I have some math exercises due next week,” you continued, not entirely sure why you were bringing it up now. “And honestly, I don’t get any of it. I think I’m starting to tank that class.”

“It’s not that hard,” he said simply, his tone calm and even. “I could help you… if you want.”

You turned to look at him, a little surprised by the offer. Tsukishima kept his gaze straight ahead, hands still in his pockets, as if he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary.

“Really?” you asked, a small smile forming on your lips.

“I mean, if you’re going to fail, that would be a problem for the team,” he added indifferently, though the slight flush on his ears betrayed his detached tone.

“Right… for the team’s sake,” you joked softly, suppressing a laugh.

When you reached your house, you climbed the few steps up to the porch and turned naturally to say goodbye. But as you stood by the door, you noticed Tsukishima hadn’t moved. He was still there, standing on the sidewalk, as if waiting for something. His posture was relaxed, but his gaze was fixed on you.

Then, with sudden resolve, you crossed the small distance between you, stood on your tiptoes, and kissed him. It was a brief, tender, and slightly awkward kiss—but full of meaning. You felt his body tense at first, surprised, before slowly relaxing.

When you pulled back, he looked down at you slightly. He didn’t smile, as expected, but there was a new brightness in his eyes.

“See you tomorrow,” you said quietly, finally opening the door.

“Bring your math notebook,” was all he said before turning and walking away down the sidewalk.

[gatheringbones]

[“Coming out was very lonely. I had very few friends. Most of the adult lesbians I knew were alcoholics, chronically unemployed, prone to violence, self-hating, apolitical, closeted, cliquish. Lesbians hated each other. If you found a lover you stopped going to the bar because you could not trust other lesbians; they would try to break up your relationship. My first woman lover went into the military, where she turned in other lesbians so she would not be exposed. One of my dyke friends got a job as a supervisor in a cabinet-making company and refused to hire lesbians because, she said, they were unreliable employees who were disliked by the other workers. The only thing that seemed worse to me than the apolitical lesbian community I came out in was the strangulation of pretending to be straight. I came out only because I could not go back; there was no place for me to stand in the het world. I was driven out.

Moving to San Francisco improved things somewhat. There was more public lesbian space there—six bars instead of one. But it did not alleviate the loathing with which my family viewed me. Nor was San Francisco in the early seventies any sort of gay utopia. We had no gay-rights law, queer bashing was a frequent event, and everyone had lost at least one job or been denied a place to live. It was a relief to be surrounded by other lesbian feminists, but only to a point. Bar dykes and feminists still had contempt for one another. Feminism rapidly became a way to reconstitute sexual prudery, to the point that it seemed to me that bar dykes were actually more accepting of and knowledgeable about the range of behavior that constituted lesbianism. In the bars or in the women’s movement, separatism was pretty much mandatory, if you didn’t want to get your ass kicked or be shunned. Separatism deteriorated into a rationalization for witch hunts in the lesbian community rather than a way for women to bond with one another and become more powerful activists. The lesbian community of that decade did terrible things to bi women, transgender people, butch/femme lesbians, bar dykes, dykes who were not antiporn, bisexual and lesbian sex workers, fag hags, and dykes who were perceived as being perverts rather than über-feminists. We were so guilty about being queer that only a rigid adherence to a puritanical party line could redeem us from the hateful stereotypes of mental illness and sexual debauchery.

What did I gain? I came a little closer to making my insides match my outsides, and that was no small blessing. The first time I met other dykes I recognized a part of myself in them, and knew I would have to let it out so I could see who I was. For a time, being a lesbian quieted my gender dysphoria because it made it possible for me to be a different kind of woman. That was an enormous relief.

For a long time, I hoped that by being strong, sexually adventurous, and sharpening my feminist consciousness, I could achieve a better fit between my body and the rest of me. Lesbianism was a platform from which I could develop a different sort of feminism, one that included a demand for sexual freedom and had room for women of all different erotic proclivities. I had a little good sex and discovered that I was not a cold person, I could love other people. It was as a lesbian that I began to find my voice as a writer, because in the early days of the women’s movement, we valued every woman’s experience. There was a powerful ethic around making it possible for every woman to speak out, to testify, to have her say. But there were always these other big pieces of my internal reality that lesbianism left no room for.

The first big piece of cognitive dissonance I had to deal with, in my second coming out, was S/M. I date my coming out as a leather dyke from two different decisions. One was a decision to write down one of my sexual fantasies, the short story that eventually became “Jessie.” At the time I wrote the rough draft of that story, I had never tied anybody up or done anything else kinky. I was terribly blocked as a writer. I kept beginning stories and poems that I would destroy. I have no idea if they were any good or not. My self-loathing was so intense, my inner critic so strong, that I could not evaluate my own work.

So I decided to write this one piece, under the condition that I never had to publish it or show it to another person. I just wanted to tell the truth about one thing. And I was badly in need of connecting with my own sexuality since I was in the middle of what would be a five-year relationship with a woman who insisted we be monogamous, but refused to have sex with me. So I wrote about dominance and submission, the things I fantasized about when I masturbated that upset me so much I became nauseated. Lightning did not strike. As I read and reread my own words, I thought some of them were beautiful. I dared show this story to a few other people. Some of them hated it. Some of them were titillated. Nobody had ever seen anything like it before. The story began to circulate in Xerox form, lesbian samizdat. I found the strength to defend my story when I was told it was unspeakable or wildly improbable.

In October of 1976, I attended a lesbian health conference in Los Angeles and went to a workshop there about S/M. In order to go to a workshop, you had to sign a registration sheet. I was harassed by dykes who were monitoring this space to see who dared sign up for that filthy workshop. On my way, I had to walk through a gauntlet of women who were booing and hissing, calling names, demanding that the workshop be canceled, threatening to storm the room and kick us all out of the conference. The body language and self-calming techniques I had learned when I had to deal with antigay harassment on the street came in very handy, but how odd it was to be using those defenses against the antagonism of other dykes. Their hatred felt like my mother’s hatred. I am so glad I did not let it stop me.

When I got home from that workshop, I knew that I was not the only one. Not only were there other lesbians who fantasized about sadomasochism, there were women who had done these things with each other. I decided to come out again. If there were other leather dykes in San Francisco, they had to be able to find me, so I had to make myself visible. This meant that I often did not get service at lesbian bars, or I was asked to leave women-only clubs and restaurants. I was called names, threatened, spit at. I got hate mail and crank calls. But I also found my tribe. And because I had already experienced my first coming out, I knew we were not going to be an ideal, happy family. I could be more patient with our dysfunctions, and see them as the result of being scared, marginalized, kicked around. Being a leather dyke took me another step closer to dealing with my gender issues. I could experiment with extreme femme and extreme butch drag; take on a male persona during sex play. I gave up separatism because I needed to take support from any place where it was available. Gay men already had a thriving leather culture, and I wanted to learn from them. I also wanted to have sex with them. It still wasn’t okay as far as lesbian feminism was concerned to be bisexual, to be transgendered, but I could bring those folks into my life and make alliances with them. I could defend them in print. There was even more good sex, and people who loved me and received my love despite the fact that it was dangerous for us to show ourselves to one another. I faced my sexual shadow, and she bowed to me and then danced beautifully in profile against the white walls of my consciousness. My writer’s voice was unlocked.”]

pat califa, from layers of the onion, spokes of the wheel, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[hollowed-theory-hall]

hi! so i read your post on percy as the minister of magic and i definitely understand your point of view. i'm curious who you think would be a good minister of magic?

(Referring to this post about Percy as the minister)

The honest answer, I don't think any of them is an ideal minister. At least, not anyone I could think of. If you can take the Golden Trio and make them a minister together like some Roman Trimuvirate, we have something we could work with:

Like, Harry got the charisma, the fame, he draws attention and would be brilliant at telling people to shut the fuck up in the sassiest way possible. When tough things happen, and things get stressful, Harry keeps his calm and keep them moving forward. Plus, he has great instincts.

The thing is, Harry doesn't really care about the bigger system or politics at all. He'd find Wizengamot frustrating and dull, and wouldn't want anything to do with them unless he felt responsible to put in the effort (which he would if he were put in the position). But, like, it won't be something he wants to do. He doesn't have a passion for it.

Ron is more realistic and strategic and is best at looking at the wider situation and its consequences. He is also the most connected with the Wizarding World itself and the culture there. He is the trio's insider, who knows the culture like a native. He is more concerned with the system at large than Harry. He isn't a great liar, but he is strategic and can stay calm under pressure. And Ron post-war is more charismatic than we give him credit for, I think. (And he's the most hinged, emotionally balanced member of the trio, which is very important when dealing with other important people you want to cooperate with you). And, yes, he's lazy about school work, but when he needs to research something, all three of the Golden Trio sit their asses in the library and research when they need to. Hermione just enjoys it.

And Hermione is brilliant at research and bureaucracy. She can get things done, and Ron and Harry would mitigate her idealism. Hermione is very "my way or the highway" and can cause people who agree with her to not want her in charge. While something needs to be done regarding the house elves, her approach ends up offending the house elves she is trying to help instead of getting them to support her (which I think is possible with the right approach). What I'm saying is Hermione is not that subtle or that good of a liar and would struggle navigating the less obvious sides of politics, especially if she'd need to think fast. Hermione is good when she has time to plan, not so much when she is panicking and needs to think on her feet (that's when Harry's in his element).

But, basically, Hermione would get things done, Harry would lead people, and Ron would mitigate both of them, remind them of the reality they live in, and make the whole dynamic work. So, the golden trio together, as a unit, would be a pretty good option (from the ones we have).

Though, writing all the above made me think that Ron, as minister with Hermione helping him out with research and such, and Harry backing him, is slept on in this fandom. I think it could work. (Plus, he'd want it more than Harry would be happy without more attention)

I think Kingsley isn't a bad choice for a minister. I think he would do an alright job, all in all. He's realistic, cool under pressure, charismatic, and knows how to work within the limits of the ministry well. My only problem with him as minister would be that he'd stick pretty closely to the existing ministry's status quo. He does remove the dementors from Azkaban and probably improves the state of muggleborns, but, unfortunately, the wizarding world needs more than that. (Not to mention the anti-Slytherin sentiment that seems to be present in the epilogue spells another dark lord in the near future)

Amelia Bones would probably be pretty similar to Kingsley as a Minister of Magic, tbh. She'd just, realistic, cool under pressure, but probably not see the deeper problems in the very system she works in.

Couldn't really think of anyone else when writing this, but if you think I forgot someone obvious, tell me.

[a-drifting-mannequin]

Deviation

Fandom: Sonic (MOVIE)

Pairing: Stobotnik; Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone

Warnings: Not beta-read

Summary: Stone and Robotnik worked with each other for a long time. First out of spite, all because Commander Walters felt like Robotnik needed a handler. Later on, however, they could almost see themselves as colleagues, work partners that complained constantly about their superior and picking up dirt from their co-workers.

As of late, Stone realized there was a change in the doctor’s attitude towards him. And something was also wrong with the badniks.

OR

Badniks expose their daddy’s love for Stone.

Fic for @thisbellrings on Tumblr!

****

Robotnik’s machines has always been viewed and regarded as a marvel to Stone. Something that should be taken seriously, to be praised and to be documented in whole.

Not the government nor G.U.N thought about his machines that way. Robotnik’s machines were like toys to them. A new project to test run and another thing to destroy just for mere entertainment.

The projects weren’t deemed important to Stone. Hell, he didn’t even care enough about it to actually complete the whole blueprint. Robotnik definitely didn’t care enough to put more effort into it.

The only machines that he ever really cared about and cared to improve constantly were his babies. His own creations with no inference. His badniks.

Stone admired that about the man as much as he admired every other part of him. About the way he treated them with care like a worried father. The constant baby talks that the agent would sometimes stumble upon were no less endearing to hear. The talks don’t just limit inside the lab. Robotnik did it in front of several others before where Stone was present to hear it all. They mocked him for loving a machine more than loving in actual person, which resulted a series of insult and a broken nose.

To think that each badniks had their own unique implemented AIs to run their systems. Stone always thought that Robotnik was always the one controlling them. No one in their right minds would think a robot liked to follow them around, watch them make coffee and bump against their arm whenever a praised was directed at the drone.

Stone thought the constant head bumping was because the doctor wanted Stone to stop, because it was annoying to hear his assistant praise a non-sentient being. Even though the doctor constantly does it himself, Stone never thought to confront the doctor about the badniks’ strange behavior from time to time. After all, if it wasn’t happening frequently or was affecting his work in any way, then Stone was perfectly content with having them follow him around like they do with Robotnik.

One day was particularly strange, however. Thinking back on it, Stone assumed the badniks malfunctioned, but it didn’t seem likely since they always got their maintenance routine performed by the doctor. Stone got a hand in it, sure, but it was just mainly passing Robotnik the necessary tools to fix them.

It had been late afternoon that day, Robotnik hunched over at the main console while his fingers flew across the holographic keyboard, glowing a bright cyan under his hands. Stone had insisted that Robotnik use an actual keyboard but was aggressively refused because of the annoying tapping noise each key made that would repeatedly throw Robotnik’s train of thoughts of the rails.

Stone had been in the break room at that time, brewing the espresso into the cup he had gifted the doctor a while back while also waiting for the milk to steam. A badnik had been present at that time, one of the smaller models at least. It stayed hovering over his shoulder, watching his every movement, replying with a small beep to everything Stone said or questioned.

Stone couldn’t help but thought how the smaller models of the badniks looked like an egg, white and oval shaped just like the real thing. Sometimes, when he saw a swarm of them, Stone couldn’t but giggle at the sight of little semi-sentient, robotic eggs flying around in the air. He never questioned Robotnik about their design, and he felt like he would be berated if he did.

After the latte was made, Stone questioned himself what to draw on it this time. Before, when he had just started working for the doctor, it had been simple patterns like the tulip pattern since it took less time to make, and hearts were too intimate. Later on, however, he drew the heart pattern in many different styles and sometimes Robotnik’s face with little hearts around it if he had time. Those ideas were getting old, though.

Stone wanted something new, something refreshing if not hard. It could be simple but had to be something different.

As his mind wandered, so did his eyes. They eventually landed on the little badnik still hovering near him. Their design was simple yet intricate. The appearance didn’t seem like much, but Stone had seen the workings of their system from the inside before.

He knew it was a long shot, but he lined up his aim and took the shot either way.

“Could you just position your something like this?” Stone asked the drone, using his hand as an example.

The badnik registered his hand movement with a simple beep, immediately spinning around to the position that Stone requested. The agent smiled softly at the way the badnik held completely still for him to draw it into the doctor’s latte.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” It was simple and slipped out almost naturally. Robotnik didn’t like it if anyone else called his machines that way, but he seemed to make an exception for Stone.

After the drawing was complete, Stone picked up the cup and proudly showed it to the waiting badnik. Although the lining of the latte art itself was a bit messy and admittedly kind of wonky, it still turned out great in Stone’s opinion. And he wasn’t alone on that. The badnik chirped and collided with Stone’s forehead gently, it was like giving fist bumps but with affectionate head butts instead. Stone chuckled, giving the badnik’s dome a gentle pat before making his way to the doctor, badnik in tow.

Stone entered the lab, making sure his steps were audible lest he scare the doctor out of his skin again. Immediately, Robotnik registered his footsteps, removing one hand off the keyboard and positioned beside him, letting Stone use his hand as if it was a cup holder.

The agent beamed at the simple gesture. Stone would usually just place it on the table, announcing to Robotnik about his prepared latte. After a while, Robotnik got impatient and tired of always reaching for the cup himself after it was placed down. So, the sight of Robotnik reaching out willingly to wait for the cup to place directly into his hand had become a common sight.

However, Stone was stopped dead in his tracks by the badnik from before. It hovered in front of him, almost refusing to move as it just close the distance between him and the drone.

Stone just stared at the badnik, confusion evident on his face. It didn’t do anything weird, to say, just gravitating towards him as if he was a badnik magnet. Two or three more came to join their sibling, fussing over Stone as if he was an intruder and they needed to scan him for any weapons. Stone tried pushing the badniks away, but it didn’t seem to work very effectively.

“Stone!” Robotnik yelled, eyes not leaving his monitor. Stone immediately perked up at the mention of his name, his hand paused from pushing a badnik away from him. “Latte. Yes-ter-day.” Robotnik said, emphasizing by removing the hand that was on his keyboard before to jab his index into the palm of his waiting hand.

Before Stone could move out the way of the badniks that were present in front of him to deliver the coffee to the doctor, more badniks were summoned for seemingly no reason. The badniks just figuratively stared at him, moving closer and closing in on the terribly confused agent. A few hovered near his legs, as if inspecting his physical fitness. Others examined his torso, scanning his face and ruffling his hair. Stone just stood still, now holding the latte in both hands to avoid it from spilling accidentally.

“Doctor?” Stone spoke up eventually, trying his best to push through the continuous waves of badniks coming towards him. Admittedly, he didn’t know if he should try. “I-uh, do have it, it’s only that- “

The excuse was cut short, an audible sound of his teeth smacking together was heard throughout the lab.

“Stone, of all the days to- “Robotnik yelled, both of his hands dropped to the arms of his chair as he turned around to face the sorry excuse of an agent he got.

Similar to Stone, Robotnik was also rudely interrupted. Well, maybe not, but he did stop mid berating to look at Stone’s current situation that somehow stopped him from bringing the doctor his latte.

The sight was... a little ridiculous at best.

Stood behind him was Stone, nervous and confused with at least fourteen badniks surrounding him, bumping and scanning him. In his hand was the latte he was supposed to bring to Robotnik, still steaming. Stone looked up from where he was staring at his feet before having a badnik nudge against his forehead, forcing him to look back down.

“I’ve been swarmed.” It was barely above a whisper, but somehow still loud enough for Robotnik to hear the nervousness in his voice. Robotnik just grabbed the back of his seat with both hands in disbelief

If Stone was still a new agent, this behavior from the badniks wouldn’t be surprising. But Stone wasn’t new, and he had already become a constant occurrence in the lab. There are signs that he had been here for a while, and all the badniks have registered him as one of their main handlers (because Robotnik was and always had been the first).

Both were silent for a while, save for the sound of machinery whirring as the badniks fussed over Stone for seemingly no reason. Stone stared back at the doctor, big brown eyes in clear distress, the cup that’s still in his hands started to warm the meat of his palms but not to the point that it hurt.

After a few more minutes of observation and staring into each other eyes, Robotnik sighed and turned away. Waving a hand behind him, Robotnik clenched and let go of his hand, all the badniks immediately obeying his order and flew off in different direction.

Stone sighed and smiled brightly as he approached the doctor with nothing in his way, handing him the now cooling latte.

“Your latte, with steamed Austrian goat milk.” He announced, handing the cup to the visibly frustrated doctor.

 To Stone’s relief, Robotnik accepted the latte, nonetheless. “Syco-friend, I’ll leave you to the mercy of the Badniks.” The doctor threatened, grabbing the cup with a glare to the agent who stood beside and behind him a little.

“Understood, Sir.” Stone replied, knowing well that the threat didn’t apply to him as harshly as the other agents before him. He couldn’t help but smile at that thought.

‘They have been more affectionate to me in front of the Doctor as of late…’ Stone thought. It hung heavily between him and Robotnik. Heavy, but not uncomfortable.

Robotnik, on the other hand, wasn’t frustrated of Stone. He hadn’t felt frustrated towards the oblivious man for some time now. But, as his superior and an important asset to G.U.N, he had a reputation to keep up.

‘The Badniks don’t even attempt to be subtle…’ He thought, forcing down the heat that threaten to flush his face.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

NOTE: The number of badniks mentioned in the fic is accurate to the original post (me thinks)

[clockwayswrites]

Both Ways at Once Part 3

wc: 1565, Masterpost

Danny wanted to pace. He wanted to work out the energy and anger burning under his skin by moving. But he couldn’t— he wouldn’t. Red Hood still had a grip on his sleeve and Danny wouldn’t take that grounding point from the other, not when it seemed to help the man so much. Not when Danny knew how bad the separation from one’s haunt hurt.

The touch was also grounding him, Danny could admit that much. He knew that his powers were getting away from him. He knew they were seeping in that way that they did these days, bleeding out and warping pieces of the reality around him. It was more than he wanted to show the Justice League, but he couldn’t keep it all inside. He was spiraling.

Danny took a deep breath and tried to focus.

“It’s alright, Red Hood. You don’t need to stand guard in front of me. They won’t hurt me,” Danny said. At least he hoped they wouldn’t try.

“You are a threat to them.”

Danny shook his head. He could be, of course, but he wouldn’t be. “I’m not.”

Red Hood turned his head, just slightly. Even without seeing the other’s eyes, Danny felt he was being watched. “You didn’t do things their way. That means you’re a threat. They eliminate threats.”

Danny bristled. Not at being called a threat, but because of the picture that painted about Red Hood’s captivity.

“Perhaps we should all have a seat,” Wonder Woman suggested as she took a seat sat the table herself.

Everyone else hesitated a moment, but Danny nudged Red Hood towards a seat and took one across the table from the heroes himself. He held back a sigh as Red Hood chose to stand behind him instead, one gloved hand rested on Danny’s shoulder. It was an improvement, at least.

Batman took the seat to the right of Wonder Woman, and Superman the right of him. They clearly framed the man. John very clearly put himself in the middle of the two groups— both literally and figuratively. Uneven odds, but Danny had faced worse.

“I need the whole story, Constantine,” Danny said, not waiting for one of the others to take charge. His hands were gripped white knuckled together where they rested on the table. He couldn’t keep the thread of anger out of his tone, but he reigned it in as best as possible. “Because from my point of view, I walked in on you all torturing Red Hood in a way that could very well kill him.”

“We don’t kill,” Superman said, puffing up with his pointed words.

Danny stared at him for a long moment before he glanced up at Red Hood. “Is that the way of theirs you went against? The one that made you a threat?”

The hand on his shoulder tightened subtly.

“He’s a murderer,” Superman said, leaning forward as if imparting something important. “He beheaded people to make a point.”

“I’m sorry,” Danny said, crinkling his brows up purposefully in confusion. “Did I ask you anything?”

While Superman looked like he’d sucked on a lemon, Danny turned to Constantine. He knew the shadows were growing around him, lengthening, and he let them this time. “I need the whole story. Now, John.”

John glanced from Danny to the others, cigarette turning restlessly in his fingers. Whatever he saw in the big three, it was enough and he slumped heavily back into is seat. The sigh he heaved was full bodied and he just looked weary suddenly. “Justice League asked me to check something out in Gotham. Which is…”

Danny nodded and motioned for him to go on. Gotham was a cursed city of pretty notorious reputation in the magical community. In general, people of any real power stayed away unless they were up to something very dark. The only ways to operate in Gotham as a proper magic user was to be supported by Gotham’s curses or be supported by Gotham herself, and her favor was rare to earn.

“So I recruited the vigilante known as Red Hood. Not… exactly the one behind you,” John said, motioning with his cigarette. “And by recruited I mean badgered him until I promised to play errand boy for a few things.”

“…and yet you claim you didn’t know he’s a protector spirit?” Danny asked sharply, the words almost hissing with his rage.

“Pomp,” John leaned forward, spreading his hands over the table top. The cigarette barely stayed between his fingers. “I swear to you, in full weight, that I didn’t. Other Red Hood was alive. He reeked of death, but all the Bats do. You do. I went to him since he uses magic, abet dubiously, and is…” John shot a glance at Batman before grimacing. He continued anyways. “He’s a sodding Son of Gotham, alright? His presence at my side let me work in the city.”

Danny sucked in a breath through his teeth. Well fuck.

“How angry is Gotham?”

John shrugged. “That’s… complicated, Pomp. Let me finish the damn story?”

Double fuck. Danny leaned back in his chair and tried to unclench his hands.

“So we go and find the problem,” John continued. “Which of course…”

“Cult.”

“Cult. What else in Gotham, right mate? We fight, Red Hood comes in handy, but then the head fucker shows some serious skills— or paid for some serious skills at least. They go on this rant about undoing what made one what they are today, motioning with this staff. I can only think that it was meant to get rid of how I got my powers, but Red Hood shoves me out of the way and takes the blast to the chest instead. There’s a cloud of magic because the whole cult is showy bastards and when it clears, there’s this Red Hood standing there and also his civilian ID, or at least a version of him. Looks a might bit smaller, mind you.”

“Okay, sure, right,” Danny said. He could feel the headache coming on. “So we’ve got the vigilante and then… who he would have been if he’d never been a vigilante?”

Danny swore Batman shifted at that.

Batman never shifted.

Danny was about to call him out when Wonder Woman cleared her throat and leaned forward. She rested a deceptively delicate hand on Batman’s arm. “No, before he was Red Hood, he was a Robin.”

“What it changed,” Red Hood explained, voice rough even for the modulation, “Is if we died. I still did. I feel it. I’m the Robin that died.”

Even Batman didn’t manage to hide his flinch at that.

Triple fuck.

-----

AN: Surprisingly, Danny hasn't gone off yet! And we're starting to get more answers! Kinda? Somewhat. Now I wonder what that other version is doing...

Stay delightful, darlings!

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe to the Masterpost instead to be notified!

[olderthannetfic]

I'm realizing that there's a part of me that never really internalized the. Um. Principle of art? Idk what to call it–Why art doesn't have to be skillful, or maybe, more specifically, why a person should not just give up if their work is not perfect, why a person's work should be worth anything if it's not "good" especially if they aren't willing to break their backs to improve. Whenever I see people who talk about art like that what I've always done is keep it in mind,bit inside I've always just wished I understood how what their saying is true. If it's true.

So when someone says "AI Art has no soul" for a fraction of a second I think "this sounds like baloney, what does that mean?" Before I remember myself and think "oh huh, yeah, I've seen people talk about how AI really just isn't as advanced or capable of the profit that all the company's and investors think it is, and there are doubtlessly things a veteran artist can do that these programs can't pull off, even if I'm not skilled enough to know what those are yet." And therefore when I come across people online talking about, say, the glaring limitations of LLMs that are now a headache because of how many people blindingly trust them to do their writing for them, that always makes more sense to me than people who talk about "AI art having no soul" and such. And I suspect a big part of it is some sort of insecurity of mine

Because I didn't realize that this is how I felt (I thought I was just mostly, in every part of me, Anti AI, like ‘fuck that noise’ y'know?) Until it came to bite me in the ass. A woman who's like my sister though we aren't related, is letting me live in her house as I try to get my bearings and handle on life after deciding to push my last year of college back a year, and she's like, a capable adult with experience in the job market and some industries so I trust her when she says "you know you're going to have to focus on developing your painting and traditional art skills, since with the Advent of AI Art, no one wants to pay for that service anymore." Because that makes sense. Artists in my country, as far as my college goes anyway, are embracing and trying to figure out how to integrate AI into their workflow so as not to be taken over by it. So the market has definitely changed, I've not really met another artist here who has any profoundly negative views of AI art, definitely customers are for the most part the same. For some job security, I better get a handle on the form of art that can't be replicated well by AI.

And yet I feel horrible. Because now I fear it's going to be a thing where any digital.art I may end up doing in this house will be looked upon disapprovingly. Because I'm not as good in traditional painting and I should be focusing on that, there's no need to be putting so much of my energy into digital art like this because it's no longer going to bring me money. All the personal projects I'm doing, my animatics, my oc character sheets are as they have always been, a waste of time or the thing I tend to focus on rather than my school work art. It doesn't matter that I've realized I kind of hate painting, I still prefer it to every other section of art I could have chosen to specialize in (digital art is under graphic design and I hate graphic design and Photoshop/Adobe/coreldraw etc.) And all of that is bumming me out because my main drive for art seems to be in my personal art despite it getting in the way of school work. And I can't stand the thought that it's not worth anything, that I should take a break from it, that AI art is better at it than me therefore there's no point to it. But what else am I supposed to do when I'm not entirely sure how much of all.that is false? And it's become apparent my entire philosophy of art is on shaky ground.

I just want to know and understand the truth so I can stop feeling this way. I'm sorry for the long ask I'm just really conflicted

--

I'm honestly confused about what your philosophy of art even is.

The vibes I'm getting off of this ask are 1. depression/anxiety and 2. extremely black-and-white thinking.

There is no single Truth™ in art, though there are strong tendencies. AI art sucks for some ethical reasons, regardless of whether the art is pleasing to the eye. AI art also sucks because the way it is programmed leads it to default to one style of human face unless explicitly told not to. "AI has no souuuuul" is silly nonsense. Plenty of boring art by humans also feels soulless.

The actual issue is that "Draw a hot girl" elicits lots of different responses from human artists. AI goes straight for AI Face. There has been drama and much hilarity about shitty book covers where what was supposed to be this individual character has ended up with AI Face in a really visible way. AI also suuuuucks at drawing hands or having little details correct. (Like... even more than human artists already suck at hands, which lbr, is a lot.) AI is objectively bad at art in a bunch of formal ways. It may get better over time, and the least discerning type of customer does not notice, but it does, in fact, suck at its job.

AI art is preferred because it is cheap.

This is the same principle as moving factory jobs from country to country looking for the lowest paid labor.

If you want to make money on art, you have to find something that cannot be done elsewhere and for less. For many people, this means building a cult of personality around themselves so that they are the product and are not replaceable.

You do not sound like someone who wants to be a commercial artist.

I get that you feel you have no obvious path to supporting yourself, but that doesn't mean you actually want to be an artist. Hobby art has plenty of value emotionally and for enriching your life. It does not need to make money to have value.

However, if you want to make a living at art, basic digital arts skills already wouldn't have paid the bills before AI took over, at least not in any market I'm familiar with. The people who pay rent this way generally have a strong interest in multiple types of art, and they are far more interested in fulfilling a brief from a client.

--

Honestly, nonnie, if you can't already tell how bad AI is at digital photorealistic paintings or whatever, I think you do need to go focus on painting classes.

It's not that I think you should be a painter, but if your art school is any good, they should have some instruction on formal, traditional art aesthetics. This will include things like anatomy and composition.

It is that da Vinci Michelangelo shit that will set one digital artist apart from another. I see way too many people whose whole education was drawing bishies for DeviantArt. They refine and refine and refine the surface details without ever addressing the underlying issues with proportion and perspective.

[richarlotte]

How do I become more like you? How do I get your mindset and make my outlook on life more positive?

I think what makes me me is my ability to keep and hold friendships and relationships. I never had a real family growing up, but I was always surrounded by people, so I learned how to make friends and keep them, I learned how to treat others well and communicate properly, and I made an effort to figure out what I both wanted and needed from my friendships and future relationships while I was young.

Another thing is my desire to do well. Whether it be with my grades, with what I’m involved in at school and off campus, my job, or just in life. I have a desire to do well and live well. I’ve always wanted to live a beautiful life, have nice things, and make myself proud, so I do my best to achieve my goals, and I’ve worked hard to get to where I am today. Focusing on my future instead of wallowing in the past has helped me improve myself immensely and adapt to things very out of my control.

I have hobbies, and I’m a well rounded individual. I haven’t spent my life focusing on one thing; I’ve taken the time to build a list of activities I enjoy and things I want to do more of, and I go out of my way to try things that seem fun or could be interesting. You can’t live a life that only looks good on social media or restrict yourself to activities that you think will make you look good. Find something that you’re passionate about and chase it, try new things, and live some life.

I take care of myself very well now. I eat well, I exercise, I sleep, and I have fun integrating health and wellness into my life now. It was hard at the start, but it became seamless after a few months of focusing on bettering myself. I make good choices, and I’m always looking for ways to do better and treat myself how I deserve. I think my health, wellness, and soul are all of the utmost importance now, and I view taking care of myself as a treat instead of a chore these days.

I’ve worked on my mental health, I don’t view anyone as competition, and I’ve worked hard to build up my confidence and self esteem. This is a serious one and something I couldn’t recommend enough: you have to be willing to work hard on your interior so that it matches your exterior. Being beautiful both inside and outside, working hard to keep yourself calm no matter how serious the storm outside is, and handling whatever comes to you gracefully will change your life. I can vouch for it; it totally changed my view of life.

[myrsinemezzo]

Haladriel and Interfandom Strife

I’ve been having an enjoyable time reading and researching about gender, race, sexuality, and neoliberal feminism in fandom in terms of both antagonism within fandom communities along with anti culture. (Because why would I do my job when I can be rattling around on journals and books dedicated to fandom studies…) Wow, has it been interesting when I think of some of these things in terms of Haladriel as well as the wider TROP community and beyond.

One of the things that struck me the most is the idea when people made up of an oppressed body cannot generate larger structural change, often the outlet becomes “horizontal violence” where anger is dispersed and “directed laterally within the oppressed group instead of at larger structural concerns” (Duffy, Miltner, Wahlstedt, 2022). Elaine Duffy conceived of and circulated this concept way back in 1995 and it’s been brought up again in recent internet scholarship focused on both anti and interfandom interactions. In many ways, this attitude and act confuses real-world activism with an individual’s relationship to neoliberal consumption and what that trio of authors modify into “digital horizontal violence.” While their primary object of study was social media and influencer culture, their main point is that cycles of misogyny rattle along right next to that violence and vitriol. Even if it’s distributed outside of male spheres the rhetoric is often piggybacking talking points from those spheres (aka “silly women interested in their romance” or “we have to protect you from yourselves”). As Duffy, Miltner, and Wahlstedt drily put it, “th[e] efficacy in dismantling gendered norms is dubious,” despite the “passion and intensity” members of internet callout groups use to critique what they see as harmful attitudes.

So do anti-Haladriels feel oppressed and lash out with digital horizontal violence? From my perspective, it’s a resounding yes. It’s easier to take out frustrations on a related group within a fandom that you feel is not doing morality right than to enact structural change against the attacks of wider lorebro LOTR circles or even larger structural issues like misogyny and capitalism itself.

The big problem with that is not only does it suck, but it very much seems as if the discourse around Haladriel has had the marked effect of chilling fandom participation within the main TROP tags and even within the Haladriel tag itself from anyone interested in that ship. This isn’t helped by vague or anonymous posts reminiscent of the discourse on Twitter over the past two years or more of those ambivalent to or who dislike the ship dividing fans into camps of “bad haladriels” vs “good haladriels.” Those two arbitrary camps are still often lumped together by the refusal to outright say what is meant or who is meant – possibly at the risk of sounding mean or antagonistic.

There’s way more to say when it comes to the underlying problems with queer erasure in terms of kink where those inside and outside TROP fandom are not able to imagine or intuit that a het pairing like Haladriel can function as kink for members of the queer community in just as valid a way as slash preferences within het communities (Morrissey, 2014). And don’t get me started on the concept of generational cringe culture that also doesn’t accomplish change and just buys into ageist assumptions of being able to have distinct generational age ranges that inherently and constantly improve on the previous generation (because it’s no secret that a lot of antis are puritanical in their view on sex and romance if you take a look on social media platforms and even on AO3).

Them’s my thoughts on recent readings. It really hammers home how older ideas of “don’t like don’t read,” “Your kink is not my kink and that’s okay,” or – if you’re into blocking habits which I’m not unless someone is actively screaming epithets at me – to curate space however you want or can. There’s also a concept of “Calling In” rather than “Calling Out” that I’ve just started to dig into (Ross, 2020) that suggests working through trauma together rather than attacking other interfandom groups is the way to go. Because do Haladriel fans engage in the same kind of digital horizontal violence when they feel oppressed? Sure! But it’s going to be a long, long hiatus without some kind of self-awareness on what can happen between all of us, and scholarship helps me make sense of fandom and sometimes the wider world.

Anyway, none of us are perfect, and god knows I’ve misstepped in fandom dealings before, but I love this space and my ship and my show. …And at some point I’ll get back to Sticks of Power and purposeful positivity posts. I vow it lol.

[genderqueerdykes]

how do you divorce your fears and distrust of men and your want to transition?

ive read a lot of your posts about anti-transmasculinity, and it all really struck a chord with me. ive been questioning whether or not i wanted to transition cause i was terrified i wouldnt be able to be soft or sensitive, or be able to cry and be empathetic. it was silly, because i never got that from trans men before i started self-harming with terf rhetoric, but now im petrified of becoming an angry abuser. and admittedly, a lot of the stuff regarding physical appearence got to me, i dont really think id be a pretty guy and its scary. though its not lost on me that the number one thing they always go to to dissuade trans men and mascs is physical appearence because as someone whis afab, your physical appearence seems to be the most important thing to people.

i keep going in circles and wondering if maybe im just a woman. im pretty femme so it sounds like its easier, i even try to compensate by trying to call myself a fem-aligned identity like demigirl or something. but the thing is i dont think ive ever felt like a girl. i dont feel like a boy either, but boyhood feels like a warm light that i desperately want to be a part of— but it seems like people are so quick to view you as a monster or a traitor if you do …. its scary. im sorry if any of this came off as weird. im just very lost.

good question!

the best way to do this is to look at it like this. constantly associating men with danger shows everyone that men cannot get better, and that men will always be dangerous and predatory. saying "men are just like that" makes it so they cannot improve, and that if a man does not behave that way, responding like 'wow, he's not like other men!' we're implying that men are always bad and pieces of shit and it's very rare for them to not be rude, mean, aggressive, etc. we're creating this cage that we place men and mascs inside of. it's not nature. it's not biology. it's not inherent or innate. it's a human invention, a cage of our own design.

men are not inherently abusive. a lot of men have been abused, themselves, and become victimized as opposed to abusive. others don't experience this at all. men are not going to inherently torture, abuse, or harm those around them. men having emotions around others is not an issue. men existing around others is not bad. it's okay to have that fear, but you're not destined to be abusive because you are or might be a man. it's not an inherent thing. men get abused too. many men are victims of abuse. many men are submissive and passive. it's not an inherent part of manhood

a lot of fear is placed on to men's shoulders from the moment they become or even realize they are one. the fear to be masculine and manly enough not to be degraded. the fear that if you don't work hard enough you won't be taking seriously. the fear of being harmed if you're too feminine or don't pass. the fear of people being rude or mean to you if you're too nice, friendly, dress a certain way, and so on. we harass men who don't conform to cisheteronormative manhood and hurt them if they aren't "manly" enough. is it any wonder men come out of this damaged, hurt and confused?

it's not your fault, you're responding to a complex issue that's not easy to grapple with. it's okay to be lost and confused, but it's also okay to be a man. men aren't inherently violent, shitty, dangerous, or predators. men are inherently men. that's it. i hope you feel a bit better soon, feel free to ask any more questions you may have! take care!

[ddollfface]

My heart aches for my lil baby sailor/selkie son! I’d give him all the hugs, kisses, and love if I could! I hope our relationship with him can improve. I don’t want him to grow up a sad, bitter, and neglected person!

(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

Honestly, I’d be willing to force myself to loving sailor so that son can witness a loving relationship from his parents! And I’d prob fall in love with sailor already cause I love all the yandere red flags!

𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡?

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝙭 𝙎𝙚𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙚!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Let's be realistic here, nonnie. You wouldn't. Trigger Warnings; ANGST, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of rape, poorly written gore, forced pregnancy, gross.

That’s what you thought in the beginning, when you were pregnant, newly captured brought home to your lover’s arms. You thought that you’d be the loving mother who could ignore all the bad signs, that could push past the abuse and cold words, only seeing the obsession in his eyes as a positive. I mean, though his touch feels like poison, and his voice is nails on a chalkboard, at least he loves you? You thought that it was irrational to blame an innocent child for the doings of their father, that it was horrible for you to look down at your stomach with grimace and shame. 

How could you? How could you think so poorly of your son? What kind of mother are you for resenting your body for taking his seed as it’s supposed to? It made you sick. You wanted to claw out your tongue, smash in your teeth, and scream until your lungs collapsed for ever muttering the words I love you to such a man. You wanted to feel your blood swell in your mouth, dribbling down your aching throat as you cried, cried, cried out in pain. The feeling of something, something of his growing inside of you, stealing your energy, and sucking the life out of you. 

But you tried. You smiled, giggled, and laughed at every word he spewed out, not listening to a single syllable. He knew it was an act, that you didn’t love him, but he respected your act so he was soft. He gave you space, letting you breathe, ignoring your sobs as you curled away from him in your shared bed. He didn’t let you go hungry, cooking your meals every morning, day, and night. No matter how difficult you’d be, he’d come to your every beck and call. That made things easier, more tolerable, making it seem as if you were a victim of rape, kidnapping, and forced marriage.

It allowed you to live in a fantasy as a loving wife, assisting your husband in the lighthouse, cleaning when you could, and even making dinner! You lived like this for a while, but as your stomach grew, and your situation settled, you came to realize that you weren’t leaving. You weren’t you; who were you? Where were you? Why were you so pliant? 

You remembered.

Everything! You remembered the feeling of his hands on your skin, clawing away at your pelt, scrapping any trace of who you were away and replacing it with him, him, him. His hands cupping your jaw, whispering sweet nothings as he pressed you against the sand of the beach. You can still feel the sting of the sand imprinting against your smooth skin, feeling your pelt get torn away from you, slipped away from your gasps.

Let it be known, you fought. 

You clawed, bit, and scratched, slapping anything that was in your view. Your pupils dilated as his hands grazed down your body, massaging, and pressing against your skin as if you were a prayer. His lips followed suit, peppering across your skin, making you gag. Your heart was swelling with rage, filthy rage. A need to jab, punch, hit, scream, anything to get you away, consuming your soul.

You were never the same, never seeing the ocean in the same light. The waves pressing against your side as he slipped off your clothes, brushing away any tears that dribbled down your cheeks, your hands reaching out for the ocean, your home. He’d swat your hands away, tsking as he leaned down, brushing his nose against your cheek, nuzzling into your flesh.

His touch felt like a searing pan, the burning of a stove as he slowly melted his lips to yours, tilting his head in a soft motion. You bit at his lips, trying to rip the flesh away. Your jagged teeth drawing blood. It made you happy, proud of yourself when the taste of iron flooded into your mouth, staining your taste buds as you screamed, calling for your brethren.

He took you that night, deciding that if you weren’t going to be soft, then neither was he. He pressed you into the dirt, taking you like a bitch. Soft words still spewing from his mouth as he held your waist, holding you down as he pinned you to the ground. The sound of the ocean calling out to you as you grabbed the grains of sand, feeling them against your palm as you clawed at the ground, hoping for it to swallow you in one gulp. 

But that was in the past, no? It was just a fit of rage, you concluded. You were quite rude, you recall, spitting insults and hurtful glares throughout the whole… exchange. Maybe he wasn’t too bad… he did clean you up afterward, that’s what good men do, no? You’re not sure. Let’s just say, you’ve never been too keen on human affairs, never interesting you the same way it did to your sisters and brothers. 

You could put that in the past, ridding it from your memory, and replacing it with his gentle touch. The way he helps you do the dishes, placing you on the counter as you watch him work. His eyes lingering on your stomach for a moment too long, but there was nothing but a content gleam in them. His hazel eyes locked on your form, never leaving you as if he was afraid you’d disappear. That look always ruins it for you, it rips you away from your wishful fantasy of a loving home. It reminds you that he is in fact not your husband, but your hopelessly obsessive captor who doesn’t trust you to do anything. 

But you could do this. You could look past that look in his eyes, brushing it off as him as being protective over your fragile baby. You are carrying his baby, after all. It’s only natural that he’s a little antsy whenever you use a knife, or stand on a chair to get a jar, or peer outside for too long. It’s just natural, you tell yourself. You could get through this and succumb to his fantasies. His fantasies were yours, you told yourself. It was difficult in the beginning, but you’ve gotten used to it. 

You no longer flinch away from his touches, letting his hands settle on your baby bump, rubbing the skin of your stomach with warm, strong hands. His scared tissue brushing against your smooth skin, causing you to shiver, but you suppressed it. You could do this.

It’s not that bad when he helps you in the kitchen. You’re no longer worried that he’ll carve out your heart for his own needs, wanting to take you in the most primal sense of the word. Your eyes don’t flicker to his form every time he picks up a knife, wondering if it’ll be you chopped instead of the lamb. You could do this. 

And you don’t let your eyes linger on the ocean anymore, deciding to busy yourself with other things than just sitting on a window seal. You crochet now, making blankets, shirts, and socks for yourself, thinking of it as a self-service for yourself. Though you could always feel your heart skip a beat, and your head feels fuzzy whenever he suggests you make something for the little man. You… you could…

To look into the eyes of another, and to only see the eyes of your captor. The eyes of a man who ripped you from your home, shed you of your skin, and raped you like breeding cattle. Though the gleam is different, the eyes are the same. Though the hair is of a different texture, that of a soft touch, it's the same. Though the skin is tinted darker, it's the same.

Though it's just a little boy, it's still him.

And you can never forgive him for that, no matter how much he tries.

[soaringwide]

Pick a Card - What is you Persona?

Today we're going to look at your persona, or as the definition goes:

"an individual's social facade or front that, especially in the analytical psychology of Carl Gustav Jung, reflects the role in life the individual is playing"

So this reading won't be about who you are from your point of view, but the role you play socially and lean into, and that others perceive you as. It's especially important for people in the public eye, but I think everyone can gain from being more aware of the mask they wear in society, whether you want to craft a mask of your choosing or desire to be more authentic.

If we're being technical, everyone has different persona depending on the social context (work vs friends, etc), but we'll look at one of them/the main one only.

As always, this is a general reading meant for multiple people so it might not apply to you 100%. Take what resonates and leave out the rest.

PILE 1

Cards: The Gem, The Thread, The Prayer, The Moon, 3 of Wands, the Empress, King of Cups, 8 of Pentacles, Justice, Knight of Pentacles, 4 of Wands, Ace of Pentacles, 2 of Wands

Let's start with a description of your persona, as in, the role you take on in society.

You role in society seems to be of someone who prioritize actions that assist and improve others, embodying the role of a helper. You are a path-maker and actively encourage people to follow along, and they do, because they sense that there is something you see or know that they don't. They see you as someone who has accumulated a lot of wisdom in their field of interest, that makes them some type of refined diamond that shines among common rocks. You are respected and admired for your abilities and people go to you for your specialized advice. They see you as a trailblazer, someone who is not afraid to take the lead and who people come to for their advice and knowledge.

The first impression people get from you is that you appear rather withdrawn and mysterious, secretive even. You don't seem to share a lot about yourself and they don't really get what's going on inside of your head. You might even come off as moody to some because they don't see the inner emotional tides that affect your behavior. This makes total sense after the last paragraph that highlighted that your role is someone who takes action, what you are on the inside you keep somewhat hidden and probably show that to only a few selected people. I'm getting internet persona for some, for others it has to do with work.

For the perceived qualities, people can see that you're someone who is a visionary, someone who has a higher perspective on things. They see you as driven, ambitious and a force to be reckoned with. You are able to communicate your energetic curiosity to others, which makes you a great team leader. Someone who's able to plan ahead and make the right decisions at the right time.

As for your flaws, they see you as someone who has a hard time enjoying the simple pleasures of life, because you're so dedicated to your cause. All work and no play, so to speak. You are very action-oriented and the drawback of that is that you seem rather unreachable, someone who is affected by nothing and that people have a hard time connecting with on a deeper level. They have a hard time getting to know you on a friend or romantic level because you are so focused on your own path that you don't let people in easily.

What others think drive you in life is your desire to be a positive influence on people around you and your dedication to whatever career or cause you are involved with. To lead with compassion and fairness with your greater understanding of things. They also see you as driven by the desire to better your craft and work for your community tirelessly and almost egolessly. So I think despite your withdrawn nature, you still come off as empathetic, it's just very neutral and it doesn't seem to affect you personally.

Above all, as someone who values integrity, you seem to fear unfairness and facing unjust repercussions. There is a fear of being attacked for the wrong reason or by the wrong people and not being able to defend yourself or the people you protect. I'm getting that in our world, things are not always just, in social settings, or even and especially on the political and executive level of things, which makes you very wary of that and you do your best to shield yourself or others from that. There is also a fear of losing control over the situation, again for reasons that would be unjust and outside of your control.

Now getting back to you, your persona has developed within you with the goal of being a link to your community, to bring you together and create a fairer and happier society for you and the people you care about. To bring forward the ideas and values you hold dear to your heart. It allows you to be someone people can rely on to have a positive impact on them. A solid foundation people can go back to when they need to. I'm also getting the word armor, as in, your persona protects yourself.

And it seems its quite aligned with your relationship with your persona, which I intended as a way to see its level of healthiness in your psyche's landscape. I think you're quite happy with the way you work in society. You persona does allow you to grab greater opportunities and makes things happen for you and your community. It's also a way to protect yourself by giving you some type of distance between your core-self and the way you are among others. It brings you a sense of control and security (which I was getting in the previous section), which is the goal of the persona.

I would say, however, that it might feel a bit lonely at time, so make sure you do share who you are on the inside with your chosen people and don't stay trapped in your persona at all times. I really think you're a great person who does amazing things, but don't forget that you also need deep connection and authentic exchanges to remain balanced and happy. You just need to find the right context to allow yourself to do that.

PILE 2

Cards: The Vow, The Lover, The High Priestess, 5 of Swords, 6 of Wands, 4 of Swords, 6 of Swords, Death, the Magician, the Chariot, Judgement, 7 of Swords, the Fool

First let's look at the description of your persona, as in, the role you take in society and how you appear.

You're someone who appears to others as having a rich inner world that they can't quite understand, as if they could sense the ties that bind you to the realm of the mind and the spirit. On the outside, they can tell that you seek living things deeply and experiencing reality with all senses, but that it's not superficial but rather a way for you to reach the meaning of life, in the way of the poet. But there's also some type of almost ascetic vibe to you, as if you indulged in excess in a serious manner. I don't think you appear very grounded or emotional, as if you explored your social settings in an almost disembodied, experimental way; gathering information for a purpose people cannot comprehend because you just don't talk about it and keep it to yourself. They can tell you have secrets and they might not dare asking. You also appear fully committed to your individuality and unapologetic about who you are. It's like you are not grounded in reality/society but rather grounded in your inner world. I will develop more further but I just wanted to give a heads up that this persona is quite complex and layered.

The first impression you make on people is of someone who is proud of the battle they fought and openly talks about their past struggles. They can sense that you are strong and confident even if you haven't exchanged any words yet. They can sense you are a very resilient person who will not let anyone belittle them. You might come off a bit strong though for those who do not resonate with your vibe. However I do think you are aware of that but just don't care.

For your perceived qualities, you appear rather calm and composed, as if nothing and no one could break your peace. They see you as easy going and not someone who will create needless drama with others. You keep to yourself and if there's mayhem around you, you just don't engage. There is again this idea that you're very connected to your inner self and have a lot of personal integrity and always try to align your words and actions.

For your perceived flaws, people can sense you still have some baggage you are dragging with you. You may have had your heart or mind broken a few times and it's making you lacking trust in social interactions and it's blocking you from forming deep connection. You have a vibe of someone who's always a foot in the door, as if you were just passing by. It's like, they can sense your authenticity and you do share who you are on some level, but you're also metaphorically facing away from others, not letting anyone close to your heart. There are no cups in this reading at all, so, again, you don't really show any emotions publicly and would rather show the way you think and your philosophy of the world rather than being emotionally vulnerable. You are very guarded in that sense.

As to what you show as driving you in life, you display the fact that you are here to keep changing and evolving, mastering your self completely and not letting any setbacks get in your way of doing so. You take the saying that one must change themselves in order to change the world at heart and make it a core principle. I keep getting this feeling that you're always pushing and pushing forward without rest, all consumed that you are by your what you desire to transmute.

So it makes sense that your fear would show up as the fear of losing control. Sometimes, it's like the mask of your persona slips for a second and that people see you are terrified of losing agency over your own world. You are afraid of getting lost or trapped in a situation that you do not like and it can make you quite rebellious in sudden outburst, when that mask slips. You don't like when people put into question your way of living and are very protective of your life choices and your personality. You may snap back at people who try to break your balance by attacking your personality, or at least that's what you perceive it as.

Your persona developed as a way to help you communicate the deep and intense person that you are on the outside. I also get the idea of showcasing some aspects of your personality in a way that is intentional and powerful. I think you may have been rather shy and withdrawn in the past, or even as a child, and this persona allows a safe way for you to exist in society with as much authenticity as possible. You have a very soft heat on the inside and you want to protect it.

Finally, for what's your relationship with your persona, which one could also read as how healthy it is, I'm getting that you are fully aware of the mask you wear or the trick you play on people so to speak. Not that you are lying, but you're forging a very specific image and I think you're stealing yourself a bit here because you are not communicating the full depth of your feelings to anyone unless you are 100% sure of their intentions, and it's shooting yourself in the foot because some people will just not connect to you at all because they feel that they can't since you won't allow them in.

However, I do get that your persona is prone to evolving and shifting easily, so I don't think you are stuck in that, at all. I think your persona will naturally evolve as you transmute things within yourself and feel safer expressing other facets of yourself. You do have a deep poetic heart and it would be a shame to hide it behind a wall of spikes at all times.

PILE 3

Cards: the Tear, the Prayer, 3 of Cups rx, 2 of Pentacles, the Tower, Knight of Pentacles, the High Priestess, Page of Pentacles, 8 of Pentacles, 9 of Swords, the Devil, 10 of Swords, King of Cups, the Hanged Man, 8 of Wands, 4 of Cups, Page of Wands rx

Right off the bat I get the sense that you are quite young or at least not fully developed yet and that your persona is not fully formed and is some type of unintentional byproduct of what happens on the inside of yourself. You are probably struggling with mental health issues which may also be why you are appearing in such state, because you got pulled back a bit.

But let's start by describing your persona, of the role you take on and how you appear to others.

You appear as rather closed-off, quite disconnected from the people around you. You may be shy, reserved or even socially anxious. People get the sense that you are quite vulnerable and easily overwhelmed and not at ease at all in social settings. A bit of an antisocial personality as well that make you withdraw and dislike connecting with others, perhaps because you just don't have the spoons although it's hard for other people to understand.

The first impression you make on people is that you are quite unbalanced in the way you behave and react. I get the sense of a past traumatic event that affects your personality greatly and that you're trying to balance by trying to be composed and grounded but it's like you keep shifting between those two opposite sides of the scale. You might appear erratic and unpredictable or the complete opposite depending on the day. But on the good days people can tell you are trying to move forward steadily and carefully.

For your perceived qualities, people can tell that you have gained some type of inner knowledge on life and its pain and that you are committed to rebuilding yourself with hope and dedicated, even if it's in its state of infancy. They can tell you hold some wisdom about human nature and you might be quite intuitive. It's like you're holding this treasure close to your heart and you sometimes show it to others very briefly.

For your perceived flaws, the idea of being disconnected from others show up again, this time to show you are not invested in your community and are very centered on yourself. Can't blame you as I think you have your reasons, but that's definitely something people see. I really think you're just very focused on rebuilding yourself and you don't have the energy to invest in others.

As to what people think drives you in life, it seems you are dead set on overcoming your deep anxiety and just get better and get out of the hole you are in currently. You have your own demons to fight and you are determined to slay them, so to speak. Again, I think you are definitely struggling with mental health issues or substance abuse, perhaps you're even hospitalized (or have been), or are in a time of recovery and that's what's being shown out: this desire to get better and to break the chains that hold you mentally and emotionally.

So it's interesting that for your perceived fear, getting worse and losing mastery of your emotions come forward. You are afraid of losing your stability and not being able to ask or reach out for help. There is a deep rooted fear of further isolation and losing grasp of anything good in life.

Why you developed this persona is because, well, it seems you just didn't have a choice and it happened as a way to survive in some way. You felt stuck as a result of your past struggles and it got pushed outside of you for others to see, so that you could communicate your inner issues and perhaps communicate your need for support in an indirect way. It all came with a sense of urgency like you suddenly had to shift the way you appeared to others in an emergency reaction of sorts.

As I said in the very beginning, you persona appears as an underdeveloped defense mechanism and I don't think it's in a healthy state at all. It's definitely not intentional and right now you're just living in it because that's all you can do. I think you have a very passionate and adventurous core to you that got somewhat pushed back but that will totally emerge again once the crisis is over. Keep hanging on, try to communicate with others more directly and have faith that things will get better because they will!

[nightplvmes]

*.⊹˚ XAVIER | lights (christmas special)

── ◜xavier x fem!reader — mini one shot 1k words ◜Xavier prepares a Christmas surprise for her with the help of his evol. — author's note | christmas specials from the rest of the LI on my profile ★ masterlist here

She sighed, looking at her empty plate of food. She looked back out the window of her apartment, noticing that the weather hadn't improved. She didn't have many plans for Christmas but she was definitely hoping to do something other than stay locked up at home… that is until a snowstorm came.

She knew the weather wouldn't be the best but she certainly didn't expect to be completely locked in. Her plans with her friends had been ruined and she felt guilty for not stopping by to see her mom.

She looked back at the TV, there was a boring Christmas movie on that was better than nothing… Until her surroundings grew dark. The power had gone out. The damn power had gone out on Christmas Eve. It was the last thing it was missing from her horrible night.

She hadn't been able to leave the house because of the storm. She hadn't been able to go see her mother and she had not been able to attend the small meeting that her friends had organized either.

It took her a couple of minutes to get out of her trance, it felt like a really bad night and there was nothing that could cheer her up anymore. She decided that the best thing to do was to spend some time on the balcony, maybe the fresh air would help her clear her head. That was when she realized that not all of the city had ended up in darkness, there were some places and buildings that still seemed to have power and a few others that didn't… unfortunately for her, her building had been one of the ones affected.

The sound of the door had taken her out of her bubble and she rubbed her eyes before getting up from the ground and walking to the front door. She thought maybe it was the building manager talking about the problem but it was the opposite…

Xavier let out a yawn and rubbed one of his eyes before looking at her with one of those small smiles he sometimes had on his face. She had learned to read his micro expressions, she felt like no one knew him like she did and it was probably true.

"Hey… what are you doing here?" She asked confused, she wasn't trying to kick him out of her house or anything but it was Christmas Eve, she thought maybe he was with… someone.

"The power went out."

She had to press her lips together to keep from laughing, of course she had noticed that and she knew Xavier wasn't trying to be sarcastic but there was so much seriousness on his face that she couldn't help but want to laugh.

"I know… Do you want to come in?" She stepped aside to let Xavier into her apartment.

He nodded and walked inside, noticing that the only light came from the open balcony doors.

She decided not to ask. Maybe Xavier had simply decided to spend Christmas at home. It didn't surprise her after he thought they were just going to get together to read on his birthday. His birthday was important, right?

"Come… the view is pretty from here." She took his hand and practically dragged him to the balcony.

When she sat back down on the floor, he didn't hesitate to imitate her, taking a seat next to her. Her eyes were fixed on the city, waiting for the power to magically come back at any moment. Meanwhile, Xavier's eyes were completely on her, as if the pretty view she was talking about was about her.

She sighed, feeling somewhat sad. She certainly didn't expect to spend Christmas like that. Although it made her feel a little more comforted to have Xavier there.

"Why are you home tonight?" She looked at him when she heard Xavier's question. She had told him two days ago that she had a meeting with her friends because she had tried to convince him to go with her.

"Didn't you see the news?" Xavier shook his head. "The storm closed the streets. I tried to leave but a policeman stopped me and forced me to go back the way I went." She sighed again remembering the disappointment she had felt when she had been told those words.

Xavier looked away. He felt sad to see her so sad, maybe his presence wasn't that much but he wanted to do something to cheer her up. She kept her gaze fixed on her hands, still feeling down. She played with her fingers and the small threads that came out of the edge of her pajamas. Until something caught her attention.

An orb of light was near her cheek. She raised her face to find the small orb floating near her face. With her brow furrowed she looked at Xavier without understanding, more small orbs came out of his hand and floated around her, a small smile formed on her face.

"What are you doing?" She smiled excitedly when the orbs around her began to move around her, until they gathered in front of her.

"We need light," he lied. He actually wanted to put a smile on her face and it had clearly worked. There was now a huge smile on her face as she tried to touch the small orbs of light but they just moved away from her touch.

The small orbs gathered in front of her again, forming the silhouette of a Christmas tree and then they dispersed again. The small orbs scattered in front of her again, forming small spheres this time. It was like her own little personal light show.

"Open your hands." She complied and spread her hands in front of her chest.

The orbs of light this time gathered over her hands without touching her completely. Forming small stars, it was like holding the stars in her hands in a perhaps too literal way.

The orbs scattered until they became small particles that disappeared from her sight, leaving her almost in complete darkness again. She now had a huge smile on her face and it had definitely been the highlight of her night.

"Thank you." She smiled, shifting her gaze back into her apartment. Her eyes searched for one of the clocks in her house to confirm what she had in mind: it was already past midnight. "Merry Christmas, Xavier."

"Merry Christmas," he murmured. He slid his hand out to take hers.

[flyingwargle]

as if guided by an inexplicable force, hinata finds himself outside of karasuno high school.

he dismounts his bike. a few students pass by, shooting him furtive glances, making him feel out of place. all throughout his high school years, he was repeatedly mistaken as a middle schooler, and now that he's left school behind him for good, it seems he'll never escape such impressions.

wheeling his bike along, he walks around, tracing the routes he took from the bike rack to the clubrooms, the main building, the gyms where the various teams practice. their doors are wide open to allow for fresh air, voices drifting over him.

eventually, he finds the gym dedicated to the volleyball team, established as such in his third year. he freezes at ukai's shouts, sharp as ever, yelling at his players to raise their elbows, to react faster. a chorus of affirmatives answer him, and the ball is thrown in the air again.

curiosity gets the best of him. hinata leans his bike against the wall and creeps closer to the door, peering inside. the players are divided into two teams, differentiated by green and yellow bibs. ukai stands at the referee's position, watching as the ball sails back and forth. the libero goes for the receive, the setter running to cover it, sending it to the left. the wing spiker jumps, unperturbed by the three-man block in front of him. his spike blows past them.

ukai blows his whistle. the boys shout in celebration. hinata, caught up in the excitement, cheers along. "nice kill!"

heads turn in his direction, ukai included. hinata freezes, feels his blood turn cold. then, the gym explodes.

"it's hinata shoyo from the jackals!"

"hinata-senpai!"

"hinata-san! can i get your autograph?"

"what's he doing here?"

"is he here to visit?"

as the boys rush toward him, ukai steps down and holds them off with a fierce glare. to his visitor, he says, "i never would've expected to see you here."

"hi, coach! i, uh, i'm playing a game with friends later, and i got restless, so i went on a bike ride and ended up here..." hinata chuckles nervously. "ah, i didn't mean to bother you! i can leave if you want-"

"if i make you leave, i'll never hear the end of it," ukai snorts, glancing over at his dazed team. "stick around for a bit. i'll throw them at you after a few more rallies." he turns around, barks at everyone to get back into position. hinata grins, taking his shoes off before entering to observe from the sidelines.

there's something nostalgic about being back to his humble roots. shoes squeak against the hardwood floor, the air stiff with only the door open. the curtains are drawn across the stage, water bottles and towels scattered on the ledge. it feels just like yesterday that he was being scolded for leaving his gear everywhere, always distracted by his underclassmen or something else.

ukai gives them a break, and the boys swarm him with questions about the jackals, how to improve their serves, whether or not he'll sign their uniforms. "no way that's going to happen," ukai grumbles at the last request.

"i'd be happy to sign anything else," hinata chirps. "within reason, of course!"

as the boys scramble to find appropriate items and markers, hinata hears footsteps approach from behind. he glances over his shoulder, whirls around in surprise. "kageyama!"

"oh." kageyama stops, hands in the pockets of his team jacket. "what are you doing here?"

"i can ask you the same thing!"

"i was in the area, so i thought to say hi to ukai-san." he nods politely when his coach gapes at him. "hello."

"let me guess..." ukai gestures at both of them. "you'll be playing together later?"

hinata nods. "yeah! we also invited-"

"ah! hinata! kageyama!"

"yamaguchi! and..." hinata waves at the blonde hiding behind his friend. "tsukishima!"

"why are you here?" tsukishima grumbles, stepping into view.

ukai has an amused look on his face. "i didn't know the off-season is when alumni visit their old coaches."

"the gym we're playing at is nearby," yamaguchi explains. "hope you don't mind us dropping by."

"i do, in the sense you're disturbing our practice time, but i'll just think of it as upperclassmen coming to see their underclassmen." ukai nods at his team, starstruck, now that the number of pros have multiplied. "you've got five minutes to ask for autographs, so make it fast!"

after a whirlwind of autographs, one underclassman approaches hinata. "could you show us your minus tempo set with kageyama-san?" he asks eagerly. "we're trying to replicate it, but haneda isn't fast enough." another boy, presumably the setter, scoffs and mutters under his breath.

"sure! uh, if that's okay with you, coach," hinata adds hastily. ukai nods, and he turns to kageyama. "did you bring your court shoes?"

"obviously. did you?"

hinata pulls open his drawstring bag. "yeah!"

they put their shoes on and step onto the court. it's like they're in their first year again, discovering the tools that'll help them succeed, unafraid to drop whatever is no longer useful. "do you still remember how it's done?" hinata asks, picking up a ball.

"you don't just forget how to do it," kageyama retorts. "dumbass."

hinata laughs and tosses the ball. he makes his approach, arms pulled back, leaping into the air in the blink of an eye, the ball already arching at where his contact point is. he spikes, the ball landing with a resounding echo.

applause erupts, along with requests for them to do it again. hinata turns and extends his fist, kageyama knocking his own against his. maybe there will be a day when they'll be on the same team again, but until then, the synergy they shared will remain dormant, always ready to cause a spark.

"don't be strangers!" ukai calls out as they get ready to leave. "come by and visit whenever you have time!"

"yeah!" hinata jumps to his feet, his former teammates behind him. "see you later, coach!"

[partycatty]

So ive been obsesed with janet cage since she appeared in the end of mk1 and now shes finally being released with peacemaker and im desperate for something ANYTHING PLEASE 🙏 😭

YOURE SO ME FR I LOVE JANET SO MUCH GENUINELY i need her so bad she's my pfp and banner on discord rn HAHA thank you for sharing your thoughts bc i was so afraid i was alone HEHE

janet cage > this one's for you, baby!

janet's got a wittle crush on the reader, and will go to stupid lengths to show herself off

notes: you're in the genderbent universe :3 but because i'm stupid, the chosen ones' names are gonna remain the same because i couldn't think of a genderswapped name for them and wasn't about to do them dirty with new names LMAO

[ masterlist ]

it was only a couple months into training, and things were looking... decent? at least, you could consider yourself improving. sure, combat was something you trained in, but when it came to you versus whatever horrors outworld contained, you tugged at the collar of your shirt.

janet, however, seemed unfazed. actually, she seemed ecstatic! you'd seen a couple of her movies and knew she could kick ass if needed. her physique impressed you, as did her endless charm and effortless ability to piss the swordswoman off. her attitude was brushed off for your sake. you knew she had just gone through a messy divorce with her ex-wife, is in talks of selling her mega mansion, and new roles were coming up dry. you'd think she'd be bitter but it turned out to be quite the opposite. her typical swagger and flourished gestures tore you from your thoughts.

"there she is!" janet exclaims, swinging a toned arm around your shoulder and tugging you close to her side. "you miss me? i bet you did!" you recall the last time you interacted with her: lunch. twenty minutes ago. even still, her perky attitude flustered you quicker than you'd like to admit.

"suuure," you sarcastically reply, hoping to toy with her ego a bit. "as if i didn't see you at lunch."

"it's hard to not miss me when i'm not around," she sighs dramatically, as if she has the hard life. "no need to lie to me, babe. you love having me around." your insides twist at the name. as you eyes are downcast, janet's eyes light up more than usual with a slight blush to her cheeks.

"whatever you wanna believe, miss A-List," you swat her arm, and she removes it though her grin remains unfaltered. janet pauses for a moment, lifting her sunglasses from her eyes and settling them on top of her head. you're winded by her beauty. you had seen it on screen as mentioned before, but there was some alluring power of her eyes when they were only a couple feet from your face. janet could kick ass, but she was also a gorgeous actress.

"tell you what," she shoots a single finger gun at you, once again removing you from your daydreams full of her face... among other things. "you won't have to miss me tonight. raiden and i planned to spar after dinner. you'll watch me kick her ass, right?" there was a hint of pleading, almost nervousness in her gaze. as if she needed you to say yes. her brows knitted together for only a single twitch.

"don't sweat," you reassure her, taking her strong hands in yours with a soft smile. "i'll be your cheerleader." with your confirmation, you turn on your heel and head the other direction to tend to your own duties. what you don't notice, however, is janet whooping to herself as soon as your back is turned.

just as the sun hits golden hour, you and the girls are waiting by the sparring ring. raiden stands straight, hands behind her back as she waits for her opponent to arrive. and so she does. janet comes jogging into view, waving at the crowd of monks and earthrealmers. she waves and smiles, blowing kisses to an unamused audience. she acts like it's another one of her performances. liu kang rolls her eyes.

"i bet your chakram hat that janet gets her ass kicked," you mutter to kung lao, who stood beside you with a smirk. she nudges your shoulder.

"aren't you supposed to be on janet's side?" kung lao mumbles back with a knowing grin. when you return with a perplexed frown, she scoffs. "everyone and their mother could figure out you're into her."

your cheeks puff up out of frustration, ready to rip kung lao a new one for being so loud and direct, but you see a hand snap in your face. snapping your neck to the source, you meet your eyes with janet's, who was leaning down to catch your attention.

"hey hey, eyes on me, sweet thing," her voice feels like honey when it drops low, and you snap back to her attention with a dazed look in your eye. your heel drives into kung lao's foot when you hear her snicker. "atta girl, check this out." a part of you dies inside from embarrassment. damn her and her confidence.

the spar begins, and admittedly it's evenly matched. punches are matched with kicks, parries and dodges slightly rile the crowd up from how equal the combat is. while raiden is calculated, janet is quick, and it becomes apparent that janet actually has a good chance.

that is, until she successfully knocks raiden to the ground. she's doubled over in pain, trying to prop herself up enough to come back from the near-knockout. janet winds up a fist almost comically, winding it in circles with a grin. just before she lands the blow, she turns to you with a beaming, cocky grin.

"this one's for you, baby!" janet shouts out, pulling her sunglasses down with her other hand to wink. before you could even consider being flattered, raiden flips up and shifts her weight, readying a godlike kick.

WHAM!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

janet sits awkwardly on the cot, fidgeting with the now broken pair of sunglasses in her hands. she can't seem to bring herself to focus on you, even as you're leaning into her to wipe her wounds.

"you should have been more careful," you gently scold her, holding her face up by her chin to wipe the dried blood on her nose. "i don't need the whole show to be impressed, janet."

she smiles lazily, eyelashes fluttering as she inspects your features. "did i at least look hot getting my nose broken?"

you want to sigh and scold her further, but you decided to indulge in her entertainment and smile back, and janet visibly tenses up at your warm stare.

"very."

her lazy smile turns into a lopsided grin as she realizes you're calling her hot. not that her ego needed it really, she knew she was hot. but you saying of it all people, dear lord she was reeling. although she was an actress, a damn good one, you could see she was visibly straining herself from losing it. so, considering you had the upper hand, you hold her face by her cheeks and squish gently with a teasing smile.

"you're blushing."

janet frowns dubiously. "am not."

"i can see it. you're blushing." your eyes flicker between hers, and then to her lips briefly. she sucks them in, focusing on your own lips with dazed eyes.

perhaps janet could use another lesson, you think. so, instead of indulging in what you both want, you let go of her face and place the bloodied rag in a discard bin, wiping your hands on your thighs. janet freezes with a pleading look, knowing exactly what you're doing. you're playing a sick game of cat and mouse.

"where are...?" janet's voice trails off sheepishly, the hardest indicator that you've caught her off guard. she wants to stand up and follow you out, but the monks told her to stay, and a pounding migraine from the blow made sudden movement difficult.

"gotta fight for what you want, janet," you coo innocently, waving with your fingers before you exit the tent. "just don't get your ass kicked. maybe then i'll reward you."

you're not around long enough to see the steam spilling from her ears and her beet-red cheeks.