#but it just is not the biggest problem here.

[i7nn8a]

When the older neighbor Sukuna is disturbing your newborn baby's sleep Warnings: Questionable use of a popsicle. You are 20 and Sukuna is almost 30 (not specified in the story)

No minors here

You, a 20-year-old chemistry student, had just moved into a bigger house now that you had a baby. Life wasn’t easy as a single mother and a student, but you were lucky enough to have inherited something from your beloved grandfather.

The neighborhood was quiet and filled with discreet people. Well, except for him. Sukuna. He was some rich guy who worked twice a week at his father's company and spent the rest of his time throwing parties that lasted until morning. And when there wasn’t a party, he’d blast music late into the night.

Tonight was one of those nights. You knew there wasn’t a party happening—his car was the only one parked outside—but the deafening noise coming from his house was keeping your newborn from sleeping. Meanwhile, you still needed to study for your exams. Fed up, you picked up your baby and marched over to the house next door.

It was the biggest house in the neighborhood. A massive white door big enough for a truck to drive through and three stories covered in oversized windows. The window to the hateful man’s room was directly across from yours—not that you were watching, of course.

Taking a deep breath, you rang the doorbell, praying it could be heard over the loud music. Luckily—or unluckily—it was. The door opened, revealing him: shirtless, tattooed chest on full display, wearing gray sweatpants and with damp hair. Sukuna looked directly into your soul as he answered the door. Curiously, he tilted his head, his gaze drifting from you to the two-month-old baby in your arms who was yawning but unable to sleep due to the noise—thankfully turned off before he opened the door. Then his disinterested eyes returned to yours.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his tone making it clear he had no intention of actually helping.

“I live next door, and I can’t get my son to sleep because of the noise. Could you turn it down a bit?” you asked politely.

“Sure, I can.” With that, the door slammed in your face, leaving you stunned.

Sighing, you turned back toward your house. At least the noise had stopped. For five minutes. Five minutes was all it took for you to settle your baby and almost get him to sleep. Just as his eyes finally closed, the noise started again—louder this time. Your baby woke with a cry, and it seemed like he was trying to outdo the blaring music. You were caught in the crossfire, with no chance of studying.

Once your baby calmed down, you stormed back to Sukuna’s house and rang the doorbell harder than before. When he opened the door, you tried to summon what little patience you had left.

“Can you turn it down?” Your voice carried a tinge of desperation.

“I already turned it off” he replied, sounding annoyed.

“For five minutes. I need you to turn it down to the point where only you can hear this bad music , not the entire country.”

“Bad music?” He seemed offended. “Look, if you can’t get your kid to sleep, that’s not my problem.”

“I could get him to sleep if the noise didn’t keep waking him up.”

“That’s why I turned it off—for a while. You can’t even put your own kid to sleep?” His mocking tone was the last straw.

Without a word, you turned and marched back to your house. Gathering your study materials, you returned to his door, rang the bell again, and when he opened it, you walked in without waiting for an invitation. Sukuna stared at you, shocked, as you headed straight for the speaker and turned it off. Then you placed your backpack on the couch and handed your baby to him, leaving him dumbfounded.

“Since putting a baby to sleep is so easy for you, go ahead. I need to study.” You settled on his couch, pulling out your book, as Sukuna held your baby like he was handling a live grenade.

“Are you crazy?” he asked angrily, trying not to move too much with the baby staring at him like he was the idiot here.

“I’ll go crazy if I fail my exams because of some guy who doesn’t know how to keep it down” you replied, flipping through your book. “And it could be worse—I could’ve called the police.”

“I’d prefer that over a lunatic who barged into my house and dumped a baby on me” he shot back, seething.

“I wouldn’t have had to if you’d just turned the music down” you said, not even looking up. “And by the way, you can stop holding Dante once he falls asleep. He likes to be rocked a bit.”

Sukuna stared at you, furious, but he begrudgingly started rocking the baby. Dante, of course, refused to fall asleep, staring at everything in Sukuna’s house as if he were on an adventure.

After almost an hour of pacing and entertaining the baby, Sukuna finally managed to get him to sleep. He looked proud, though he’d never admit it. Showing you the sleeping baby, he expected some kind of reaction, but you were unimpressed. You simply asked if there was a comfortable spot where Dante could rest until you were done. After settling the baby in his room, you returned to your studies. Sukuna grabbed a drink, leaning against the wall, watching you.

“I’ll leave soon, don’t worry. I just need to finish this chapter in case you decide to crank the music back up” you said without looking up.

“I didn’t say you had to leave.” he replied, stepping closer. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“What are you doing?” you asked, leaning back as he moved even closer.

“Oh, come on. Did you really think you could show up in those tiny shorts with some lame excuse and nothing would happen?”

The kiss he gave you was anything but loving or gentle. He parted your lips with his tongue, exploring every corner of your mouth. His mouth moved down to your neck, where he grazed his sharp teeth and bit a specific spot, making you scream.

"Quiet. We don’t want the boy to wake up."

With that, he stood up and headed toward the freezer, leaving you breathless on the couch. When he returned, he was holding a popsicle. Your mind started screaming. Why did he bring a popsicle?

Staring at you, he tore the wrapper off with his teeth and walked toward you. Grabbing you, he moved you to a spot where your study materials wouldn’t get in the way. Sukuna’s eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as he slid the melting treat along the side of your neck, soothing the spot where he’d bitten you, leaving a sticky trail of coconut on your flushed skin.

"Such a good slut. You're going to take this right to me, aren't you?"

He presses the popsicle against his lower lip, his eyes searching her face with intense hunger and dark anticipation. His hand tightens around the melted popsicle, the cold, sticky treat dripping onto his collarbone.

"Do you want me to fuck you with this, do you want to feel it stretching your tight pussy before I replace it with my cock?" Sukuna's voice is a low, seductive whisper, dripping with dark promise.

His other hand slides down to grip the back of your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist as he grinds his hardening arousal against your clothed pussy. He captures your lips in a burning, domineering kiss, swallowing your moan as he grinds the popsicle against your clothed sex with deliberate, cruel slowness.

Without further ado, he pulls down your shorts and rips off your skimpy underwear, exposing your most intimate flesh to his voracious gaze. You gasp, but Sukuna swallows the sound, your mouth crashing against his in a brutal, dominant kiss as he grinds the icy popsicle against your dripping bare slit.Sukuna's fingers grasp the treat, pushing it slowly, teasingly, into your tight channel as he moans into your mouth.

"Fuck, you're already all wet, you slut. Your greedy pussy is practically sucking the popsicle inside, isn't it?" He pumps in and out, establishing a maddeningly slow and shallow rhythm that makes you squirm and whimper against him.

Sukuna watches your face intently, his eyes dark and heavy with lust as he works the popsicle deeper, stretching it open.

He withdraws the sweet abruptly, leaving your clinging walls trembling and aching. Then, with a wicked grin, he pushes the popsicle past your entrance, fucking your with it in earnest while his other hand grips your hip hard. He slams into your pussy harder, faster, setting a relentless pace as he leans down to capture a hard nipple between his teeth, biting and sucking the sensitive bud with shameless hunger.

Sukuna grins mischievously at the helpless, drunken moans of pleasure you're letting out, the sound stimulating your relentless assault on your senses.

"Mmm, listen to yourself, brat. Singing so sweetly to me while I rape your tight little pussy with that pathetic excuse for a dick." He punctuates his words with a particularly hard jerk of the popsicle, grinding it against that spongy spot deep inside your pussy that makes stars explode behind your eyes.

"You're screaming so loudly for me. Do you want the brat to wake up? Do you want him to see what a slut his mother is?"

His other hand slides from your hip to wrap around your throat, squeezing hard enough to make your moans catch in your throat, making you gasp and shudder helplessly in his grip.

"I can feel you squeezing him, trying to suck him deeper. Your hungry little shit hole is begging to be created, isn't it?"

He pulls out the popsicle abruptly, leaving its sticky walls trembling and hungry. You whimper at the loss, your hips thrusting forward desperately, seeking more. Sukuna just laughs darkly, dragging the sticky, dripping treat across your quivering belly to circle a hard nipple.

Sukuna smiles fiercely at the desperate, lustful cry you let out, his eyes shining with dark triumph.

"Such a greedy whore, so eager to be filled and bred."

He laughs mischievously, tossing the remains of the popsicle aside before grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he pins your against the sofa, the hard bulge of your arousal grinding insistently against his dripping core.

With that, Sukuna pulls down his sweatpants, releasing his huge, throbbing cock. He notches the enlarged head at your entrance, teasing you with the promise of being stretched and filled so completely. You moan desperately, your nails digging into Sukuna's shoulders as you squirm against him, trying to impale yourself on his thick shaft.

Sukuna only smiles at your want, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he holds you in place.

"Beg for it, my little slut. Beg me to ruin your tight pussy with my cock. Beg me to fill you with my seed, to create that greedy hole that's aching for it."

His voice is a low, sinful growl, dripping with cruel anticipation.

"Please, Kuna."

Sukuna's eyes shine with a wild, triumphant light at your gasping plea.

"That's it, beg for my cock like a good slut."

He grins mischievously, gripping your hips tighter, his fingers sinking inhis fingers sinking into the soft flesh until she bore the marks of his possession.

Without warning, Sukuna snaps his hips forward, burying his huge balls deep into your tight, dripping pussy in one brutal thrust. He groans, throwing his head back as your scorching heat envelops him like a vice.

"Fuck, you're so tight. Squeezing my cock like your hungry little hole is trying to milk my seed."

He starts to move, establishing a strong, fast rhythm as he fucks you with savage intensity. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mingling with your restrained screams trying not to wake your son and Sukuna's harsh, guttural grunts.

"Take it, you insatiable slut. Take every inch of my cock, let it reshape that greedy pussy to fit only me."

Sukuna's voice is low, rough and sinful, dripping with dark lust and cruel possession. His hips move relentlessly, each powerful thrust hitting that secret spot deep inside you that makes you see stars.

Leaning in, Sukuna captures your lips in a brutal, overpowering kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. His tongue plunders your mouth, conquering every inch of it, claiming it as his own. Breaking away, he growls against your lips.

"That's what you wanted, isn't it? To be used as a sex toy, to be bred like a bitch in heat?"

Sukuna bends down, findingher clitoris with relentless precision. He rubs the sensitive nub in tight, rough circles, pushing your towards a devastating climax.

"Come on my cock. Squeeze the cum out of my balls."

Your eyes bore into his, dark and heavy with lust. Sukuna throws your head back with a roar of dark triumph as you squeeze his throbbing cock, your pussy rippling and vibrating as she comes apart.

"That's it, scream for me, you little slut!"

He penetrates your, rubbing his pelvis against your throbbing clit as he fills your to the brim, stretching your walls to the limit around his thick girth.

Sukuna fucks your through your orgasm with relentless intensity, each powerful thrust pushing your higher, the pleasure bordering on pain. He leans down to capture a bouncing nipple in his mouth, biting and sucking the soft bud with shameless hunger as he penetrates your mercilessly.

"Fuck, your greedy pussy is milking my cock so hard. Do you want my seed that badly?" Sukuna growls against his chest, his balls contracting as his climax approaches.

"Beg for it, beg for me to fill you up, to create that hungry hole and make you mine!"

He thrusts his hips harder, faster, the wet sound of her dripping pussy obscenely loud in the room. You can only cling to him, your nails scratching his sweaty back as you surrender to the numbing ecstasy that shakes your body.

Your pussy clenches rhythmically, eager for the thick cum that only Sukuna can provide.

With one final, brutal thrust, Sukuna penetrates yo pussy, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he finds his release.

"Fuck, take it, take my seed, you insatiable slut!"

He roars, his hot, thick seed gushing out in strong jets, painting your walls white as he pumps your full of his essence.Sukuna penetrates your, making sure that every drop of his cum is sealed inside your hungry womb.

"You're mine now, mine to ruin and use as I please."

He captures your lips in a burning, domineering kiss, swallowing your weak cry of surrender. Finally, he pulls away, his eyes shining with cruel satisfaction as he examines your handiwork. You, soft and trembling, your thighs sticky with the mixed evidence of your lust, his cock still buried inside you, plugging your seed. Sukuna smiles, the sight was a gateway to paradise.

Pulling out of you, he stood up, putting his pants back on and going to get a towel to wipe you down. As he leaned down to kiss you, you heard a baby cry that woke you both up from the trance you'd been in.

With a groan you got up and tried to walk to the bedroom, already feeling your breasts producing milk for your baby.

"Next time I'll prove it." Sukuna said, walking past you and into the bedroom, leaving you stunned behind.

[jburrgf]

About You II — The Love Trope Series

“Do you think I have forgotten about you?”

◦pairing: ¡lsu! joe burrow x ¡ex situashionship! reader

◦summary: second change trope, college relationships, slow burn love, right person wrong time.

◦description: after the dinner at Malone’s, your best friend and you go to the biggest party of the year, and there, you find out why you can’t forget Joe — at all.

◦playlist: About You - The 1975, Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Golding, Like Real People Do - Hoozier, I Bet You Think About Me - Taylor Swift, Called You Again - Lizzy McAlpine, Tolerate It, ImGonnaGetYouBack, Clean - Taylor Swift

PART TWO: FRIENDS

Joe and I didn’t happen overnight.

It was a slow burn, full of late-night conversations, stolen glances, and an undeniable pull neither of us could explain. He was juggling the pressures of being a star quarterback with the weight of expectations I couldn’t fully understand, and I was caught between wanting to be a part of his world and keeping my own identity intact.

We weren’t perfect. We fought. We drifted. We came back together, only to drift apart again. And then, just before graduation, Joe started pulling away for good.

I didn’t chase him.

And that was the end of it.

Or so I thought.

The faint hum of music and muffled voices filtered through the walls of our shared dorm as I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the pile of clothes Maddie had dumped on me earlier. A crop top, a leather skirt, and heeled boots that looked like they belonged on a runway rather than at a party in a dingy warehouse.

Maddie was pacing, a hair curler in one hand and a bottle of glittery body spray in the other, a force of nature in her pre-party ritual. She was dressed to perfection already, wearing a sequined halter top and ripped jeans that made her legs look a mile long.

The mirror in Maddie’s dorm room was barely big enough for one person, but tonight, we were making it work. Her makeup brushes, palettes, and lip glosses were spread across the desk like an arsenal, the tiny lamp casting a warm glow on the chaos.

“Y/N, come on,” Maddie groaned, holding up two options—a cropped black sequin top and a deep green halter. “Which one says, ‘I’m here to have fun but also break hearts’?”

I glanced up, her mind still clouded, offering a weak smile. “The green one, I guess.”

Maddie frowned, dropping the tops onto her bed and placing her hands on her hips. “Okay, what’s going on with you? This is the biggest party of the year, and you’re sitting there like we’re about to go to a funeral.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Just tired.”

Truthfully, exhaustion wasn’t the problem. My chest felt heavy in a way I couldn’t explain—like I was carrying the weight of something I didn’t have the courage to admit. Joe. His name felt like a forbidden word, a ghost haunting the edges of my thoughts as Maddie flitted around the room, oblivious.

“Liar,” Maddie shot back, narrowing her eyes as she crossed the room to sit beside Y/N. “You’ve been weird all weekend. Let me guess…” She tilted her head, a knowing smirk spreading across her lips. “This is about him, isn’t it?”

The mention of his name made my stomach flip, but I kept my face carefully neutral. “This has nothing to do with him.”

“Bullshit,” Maddie said, nudging her shoulder. “I know you, Y/N. You’ve been moping around ever since Malone’s friday. Did something happen with Joe that you’re not telling me?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Look, I know he’s... complicated. But tonight isn’t about him. It’s about you having fun. Forget about the past. It’s just one party.”

“Exactly. Just one party,” I said, grabbing the crop top she’d picked for me and holding it up with skepticism. “And I’m not even sure I want to go.”

Maddie marched over, snatched the shirt from my hands, and tossed it on the bed. “Oh, you’re going. Whether I have to drag you kicking and screaming or not.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to enjoy myself, but something in me felt heavy, like an anchor tied around my chest. Maddie didn’t need to know how often my mind drifted to Joe—how his face had been etched into my thoughts since that night at Malone’s, how his stupid note was still folded in my desk drawer.

“Y/N,” Maddie said, her voice softening as she sat beside me. “I know you miss him.”

I blinked, startled. “I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to,” she said, nudging me with her shoulder. “But trust me, wallowing isn’t going to help. You need to let loose, have a drink, and dance with someone who’s *not* Joe Burrow.”

I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It *is* easy,”

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my jeans. “It’s… nothing happened. It’s just—ugh, I don’t even know, Maddie. I don’t want to talk about him.”

Maddie raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Instead, she stood, grabbed Y/N’s hands, and pulled her to her feet. “Okay, fine. No more Joe talk. But I’m not letting you go to this party looking like you just rolled out of bed.”

“You know i’m not thrilled about frat parties.” I said

“This isn’t just any frat party,” Maddie corrected, grabbing a curling iron and plugging it in. “It’s in the Kappa alumni barn. Do you know how hard it is to get invited to this? People are literally selling wristbands for $50 just to get in. We are *elite,* babe.”

“Lucky me,” I muttered under my breath.

”Come on, I’m going to pick out the perfect dress for you.” She threw open her closet, rifling through the racks of clothes like a woman on a mission. “We need something that says ‘I’m hot, but I don’t care if you notice.’”

“I was just going to wear jeans,” I offered weakly.

Maddie spun around, her expression scandalized. “Jeans? To this party? Y/N, we’re not freshmen anymore. This is senior year. Go big or go home.”

Before I could argue, she pulled out a sleek black dress with a subtle shimmer. It was simple, but the cut was flattering, and the fabric looked soft enough to melt into.

“This,” Maddie declared, holding it up like it was the Holy Grail.

I hesitated, glancing at my reflection. “I don’t know...”

“Trust me,” Maddie said, shoving the dress into my hands. “You’ll look amazing.”

With a reluctant sigh, I headed to the bathroom to change. The dress clung to my figure in all the right places, and when I stepped back into the bedroom, Maddie let out a low whistle.

“Y/N! You look... Wow. Just wow. Girl, if Joe doesn’t come crawling back to you after tonight, he’s an idiot.”

I finally turned to face my reflection, and to my surprise, I didn’t hate it. The dress hugged my figure in all the right places, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like maybe I could blend in tonight.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my llips. “It’s not about Joe.”

“Sure, it’s not,” Maddie teased, returning to the mirror to finish her makeup. “Now, sit down. I’m doing your hair and makeup.”

As Maddie curled my hair, the mood in the room shifted slightly. The music softened, and for a moment, it felt like the old days��just us two, laughing and talking about nothing.

“Listen,” Maddie said, her tone gentler now. “I know you’re going through it, but you deserve to have fun tonight. Forget about him, or at least try to. This party is going to be amazing. Everyone’s been talking about it for weeks. The lights, the DJ, the whole vibe—it’s gonna be insane.”

I nodded, her chest tightening. Maddie was right. I needed to let go, even if just for one night. “You’re right. Let’s do this.”

Maddie grinned, placing the final curl in my hair and fluffing it out with her fingers. “Now that’s the spirit. Look at us—two bad bitches, ready to take on the world.”

I laughed, feeling a flicker of excitement for the first time that night. Maybe this party wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe I could forget about Joe, even if just for a few hours. Maddie got all the makeup things right in front of us, and started to do my makeup.

Hold still!” Maddie ordered, her hand steady as she worked on my eyeliner.

“I am holding still,” I mumbled, trying not to blink.

“You keep flinching every time I get close. Do you not trust me?” she teased, stepping back to inspect her work. “Did you know they rented an actual DJ for tonight? And there’s going to be this crazy light show. Plus, rumor has it the football team’s throwing in a ton of money for drinks and food. This is basically LSU’s version of Coachella.”

I hummed noncommittally, watching her in the mirror as she worked. Her excitement was contagious, even if I wasn’t quite ready to feel it yet.

“Y/N,” Maddie said after a moment, her tone more serious. “Promise me you’ll try to have fun tonight. For real.”

I met her gaze in the mirror and nodded. “I’ll try.”

She smiled, satisfied. “Good. Now, glitter or no glitter?”

“No glitter,” I said immediately.

Maddie rolled her eyes but relented, finishing my makeup with a swipe of lip gloss.

Maddie, of course, looked flawless in her emerald green romper and heels, her hair styled in loose waves that framed her face. She had a way of commanding attention without even trying, and tonight was no exception.

“You’re stunning,” I said honestly.

“So are you,” she replied, grabbing her phone to snap a picture of us. “Okay, let’s take a pre-party selfie. Smile!”

I forced a grin, but even as the camera clicked, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“You’re thinking too much,” Maddie said, catching my expression.

“I’m not,” I lied.

She rolled her eyes, grabbing her purse. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before you change your mind.”

By the time we were both ready, the campus was already buzzing with energy. The party was being held in an old warehouse on the edge of campus, the kind of space that was only used for events like this—loud, chaotic, and slightly dangerous.

As we stepped outside, the cool evening air hit my skin, and for the first time all day, I felt a flicker of anticipation. Maddie looped her arm through mine, grinning.

“Trust me, Y/N,” she said as we made our way toward the warehouse. “Tonight’s going to be unforgettable.”

The walk to the party was electric. The campus buzzed with excitement, groups of students streaming toward the barn like moths to a flame. Maddie chatted nonstop, filling the silence with stories and jokes that I barely registered.

But as we approached the barn, the music growing louder with each step, I couldn’t ignore the way my heart began to race. Part of me hoped Joe wouldn’t be there.

And another part of me—a part I hated—hoped he would.

I caved, mostly because Maddie was impossible to argue with, and by the time we arrived at the warehouse, I was already questioning my decision. The music was loud, the drinks were cheap, and the place was packed with bodies moving to a beat I couldn’t place.

It was an underground-style party. Everyone was wearing colorful, fluorescent paints, and the music had heavy beats. It was a fraternity party, but it wasn't at a house. Everything took place in a warehouse, surrounded by a parking lot that was already full when we arrived.

“Loosen up,” Maddie said when we got out of her car and were walking through the parking lot, heading to the party entrance. My friend showed something on her phone to someone, and we went in.

She dragged me toward the makeshift bar. “Come on, Y/N, I know why you're like this. But remember, we have to have fun, right?” she said, shaking my shoulders from side to side as electronic music played.

I rolled my eyes, letting out a small smile because the beat of the music was really contagious.

“Alright, but I’m not going to drink much!”

“I love you!” And that was what Maddie said before dragging me to the fraternity's makeshift bar, preparing something for me to drink.

I downed a few shots, one after the other, laughing and speaking loudly as people came over to greet us. I danced to a few songs with Maddie, swaying from side to side.I felt the urge to go to the bathroom, so I asked her to wait for me close to the bar. I started walking, looking for something like a bathroom, being careful not to open doors to already occupied rooms.

I found an empty bathroom at the beginning of one of the hallways. I fixed my makeup, washed my hands, and got ready to leave. I closed the door behind me, starting to walk down the hallway.

When I returned to the party, the music was louder, and people were dancing more. By that time of the night, the bar was even more crowded than usual, signaling that the party had reached its peak.

I tried to. I really did. But I wasn’t a natural at these things, and it wasn’t until I stepped outside onto the quieter patio that I felt like I could breathe again. I walked out of the warehouse, exiting through makeshift tarp doors. Outside, in the back, there was an Olympic-sized pool, illuminated and filled with inflatable balls.

The air outside was cool against my flushed skin, the sounds of the party muffled behind the thick metal doors of the warehouse-turned-dancefloor. I leaned against the railing near the Olympic-sized pool, my chest rising and falling as I tried to steady myself.

The stillness of the pool was a welcome contrast to the pulsing energy inside. Its surface reflected the night sky, fractured by the faint ripples of the water, and for a brief moment, I felt at peace.

“Finally found you!” Maddie shouted from afar, stepping out of the warehouse with a red cup in hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… it just got way too crowded all of a sudden.”

“Yep, it’s about time for us to head out.” She patted my back, as if she knew me well enough to understand exactly how I was feeling.

The bass of the music hit me like a wave as soon as I stepped through the doors, the lights swirling in hypnotic patterns that danced across the crowd. The air was thick with heat and the mingling scents of sweat and cologne, and I almost turned back around.

I tugged at the hem of my dress, suddenly feeling too exposed in the sea of intoxicated strangers. Maddie was nowhere to be seen— I lost her when I got back inside. I should’ve texted her to meet me outside, but I didn't want to ruin her night.

The overhead lights twisted and flickered in a kaleidoscope of colors, casting long shadows that danced across the packed room. People swayed and spun to the beat of a song I didn’t recognize, the energy electric and wild.

And then it happened.

The opening chords of Innerbloom by RÜFÜS DU SOL floated through the speakers, and it was like the entire atmosphere shifted. The crowd slowed, their movements taking on a dreamlike quality as the tempo of the song washed over the room.

That’s when I saw him.

Joe.

He was standing near the edge of the dancefloor, just beyond the reach of the flashing lights. His blond hair caught the faint glow of the strobe, his tall frame relaxed yet commanding as he talked to someone I didn’t recognize. But it wasn’t the way he stood or the casual confidence in his posture that froze me in place. It was his eyes.

Because, as if sensing me, he looked up—and our eyes met.

Everything else faded.

For a second, I thought I was imagining it.

It was instant, like a magnetic pull I couldn’t fight even if I wanted to. The room, the music, the crowd—all of it faded away. All I could focus on was him.

Why does it always feel like this?

The way he looked at me was almost unbearable—like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as I had dreaded it. His gaze was steady, unflinching, and for a second, I thought he might come toward me.

But he didn’t move. Neither did I.

My breath caught in my throat. We just stared at each other, the space between us suddenly feeling both infinite and too small.

I wanted to run. I wanted to stay.

The flicker of the lights seemed to sync with the thrum of my heartbeat as he started walking toward me. Everything was in slow motion—the sway of his body, the way his hands slid casually into the pockets of his jeans, the way his jaw tightened when our eyes locked again.

The music, the crowd, the swirling lights—it all blurred into the background, like the universe itself had tilted to make room for this one moment.

*If you want me, if you need me... I'm yours.*

The words felt like a taunt, an echo of everything I hadn’t allowed myself to admit.

Joe’s gaze held mine, steady and unyielding, as though he could see every thought racing through my mind. His expression was unreadable—calm, almost curious—but his eyes told a different story. They were searching, pulling me in, and suddenly the space between us felt both infinite and far too small.

I couldn’t move. My feet were rooted to the ground, my pulse hammering in my ears as the world seemed to slow to a crawl.

He took a step forward.

The lights shifted, casting his face in shadow, and for a second, I thought I might faint. My breath hitched, and I gripped the edge of a nearby table to steady myself.

Another step.

The crowd parted like water around him, the sea of bodies moving in rhythm with the music but leaving him untouched. It felt unreal, like a scene from a movie, the kind you tell yourself could never happen in real life.

But it was happening.

And then he was in front of me.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low, almost lost in the swell of the music. But I heard it. God, I felt it.

“Joe.” My voice came out softer than I intended, almost shaky.

Neither of us said anything for a moment. The room seemed to spin around us, the world a blur of light and sound, but we were still. Anchored.

“You came,” he finally said, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile.

“You called.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me in that way he always did, like he could see straight through every wall I’d put up. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

Why did he have to be here? Why did he have to look at me like that? Like he was still holding onto something I’d been trying so hard to let go of.

The muffled beat of the music reached me even out here, but it was quieter now, easier to ignore. I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the image of Joe—his face, his voice, the way he said my name. It lingered like a ghost, refusing to let me be.

“Neither was I,” I admitted, my voice barely audible.

Another beat of silence passed, heavy and charged. His gaze flickered down to my lips for a fraction of a second, and my stomach flipped.

The song swelled, the lyrics a haunting echo in the background: If you want me, if you need me, I’m yours

The silence stretched between us, filled only by the song and the pounding of my heart. I didn’t know what to say, what to do. All I could do was look at him, and all he could do was look at me, like we were the only two people in the room.

Something flickered in his eyes—relief, maybe, or something deeper. He stepped closer, and I felt the warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the humid air of the warehouse.

The words hung between us, heavy and unspoken truths laced beneath them. I wanted to ask him why he cared, why he’d left that note, why he was standing here now, looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered. But I couldn’t.

The music swelled, the lyrics wrapping around us like a cocoon.

“I’m glad you did.”

The words hung between us, heavy and unspoken truths laced beneath them. I wanted to ask him why he cared, why he’d left that note, why he was standing here now, looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered. But I couldn’t.

The music swelled, the lyrics wrapping around us like a cocoon.

It felt like the universe was holding its breath, waiting for one of us to make the next move.

And then, without thinking, I took a step closer.

“Joe,” I said again, my voice steadier this time.

“Y/N…” His voice was barely a whisper now, lost beneath the music but somehow still clear as day.

For a moment, neither of us moved, the world narrowing down to just us.

And then someone bumped into me, breaking the spell. I stumbled, and Joe’s hand shot out, steadying me with an ease that made my stomach flip.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

I nodded, my cheeks flushing. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But I wasn’t fine. Not even close. Because standing this close to him, feeling his hand on my arm, hearing the way he said my name—it was all too much.

And yet, I didn’t want it to end.

He held out his hand. “I…”

“I can’t do this, Joe. I have to go,” I said, finally creating some distance between us. I walked out of the warehouse, but I knew he was following me.

“CAN YOU STOP?”

He froze, started, coming to an abrupt halt behind me. Even in the dark, I could tell he was looking at me with shock. I could see the way he looked at me, and it made me feel nauseous. Not because I didn’t like it, but because I missed it. God, I missed it so much.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, and I could feel the honesty in his voice eating away at me.

“You haven’t talked to me in months, and I’m not going to let you do to me what you’ve done before,” I said, stepping further away. “You forgot about me, Joe. Completely. You pushed me away, and now, I don’t want to come back. Just… stay away.”

Maddie came running after Joe soon after. With a confused expression, she purposely bumped into his shoulder as she walked past him toward me.

“Let’s go, Y/N,” my friend said, still shooting side-eyes at Joe, who stood there frozen. “Leave her alone, Joe. She doesn’t need you anymore.”

Maddie grabbed my hand and started walking with me through the parking lot. I got into the passenger seat, still dazed. It had been almost seven months, and that was the first time he had spoken to me.

When I looked in the rearview mirror, he was still standing there, in the middle of the street.

I knew I would see him again. I just didn’t want to believe it.

[vengefultakeover]

Napping Roomie

I came home to my roommate closing the fridge wearing nothing but a pair of blue underwear. He did this often, not that I cared. In fact, I actually really enjoyed it. I'd come home to him in a pair of sweatpants, free-balling it with a semi while playing video games and every time he'd make a successful goal or a multi-kill he'd celebrate while that snake pressed against the fabric. Plus, I couldn't complain because he really helped me when I was in a tight spot - offering up his spare room when I couldn't find a place to stay while I was in school.

"Hey man, I was just about to take a nap." He said, walking towards his room.

"No problem, just getting home. I hope it's alright, but I invited someone over in a little."

"No worries, man. I sleep like a rock." He laughed, waving me off and disappearing into his room.

It took thirty minutes for my friend to arrive. Jerry was a larger guy, tall and stocky, and he was my best friend. He brought over some groceries he wasn't using since he mentioned he was going on a trip. Not sure where, figured he'd tell me sooner or later.

"Is Devon here?" He asked, putting more items in the fridge and then some dry goods in the pantry.

"Yeah, he's taking a nap. He looked tired when I came home."

"Oh, sick. I've got something to show you." Jerry walked over to the door and poked his head inside. He closed the door quietly with the biggest shit eating grin I had ever seen.

"What is wrong with you, dude?" I asked with a laugh. He waved me over and I joined him. He started to strip leaving his clothes outside the door before going in. "Hey, what the hell?"

"Shhh, just follow me." He started to creep into the bedroom and I protested with quiet huffs before following him in. We closed the door and could see Devon passed out on his bed. His cock was poking out one leg and then his balls the other. This was enough to make my cock twitch and I felt a warmth at my neck.

"Watch this." Jerry went around the bed and rubbed his hands together before reaching for his cock. I was wide eyed and hard, but frozen in fear and confusion. I watched him pull his thick meat out from his Calvin's and then shove a hand right into the tip. I don't mean like the tip of it, or even a finger, he shoved his whole hand inside. Devon's cock grew hard instantly, his hand making it bulge. His face shifted, turning into slight discomfort, but nothing that was going to wake him up. Then I watched him shove his other hand inside. His arms were suddenly deep inside his cock, the thick rod growing in size as he wriggled his way in. 

"What the fuck?" I gasped.

"Don't worry. He's fine." Jerry whispered. He bent forward, sticking his head between his arms and then pushing his head into his tip. Devon started to writhe, but Jerry kept going. Jumping up and in, his body looked like a cartoon as it expanded his cock and then his body. his stomach bloated, his chest puffed up, even his legs expanded as Jerry disappeared and started pushing himself into each of his limbs. Devon's eyes fluttered and his mouth hung open, a bit of drool coming out as Jerry made his body his home and suddenly it stopped. Devon's musculature returned to the toned sexy body that was napping there before. Devon popped an eye open and that same shit eating grin I had seen on Jerry before appeared on him. 

"What the fuck just happened?" I held my legs together to keep the boner from showing.

"Just a little something I picked up from a witch on the corner." He hopped out of the bed and wobbled once he got to his feet.

"Holy shit this is wild." I said, reaching out and touching him.

"Oh fuck that feels good." Jerry said through Devon, shivering.

"Sorry, I -"

"No. Keep doing it." He pulled my hand close to him and then grabbed my other hand. He pressed them against his chest and I squeezed, feeling the muscular mounds under my palms. Flexing, he pulled me back onto the bed and then wrapped his arms around me, going in for a kiss. I fell to the side, making out with my roommate who was now being controlled by my best friend. I could feel him press against me, the blue underwear slowly being peeled off as I reached down and grabbed a hand full of his plump ass. I couldn't control myself, as we made out I kept pushing myself closer, grinding my hips into him until he was turning around. 

"Fuck me as hard as you want?" He said, reaching back and squeezing his ass. I leaned into him, kissing his back as I aligned the tip of my cock with his hole. I was slow to push into him, my cock head popping in and I could see his back muscles react. 

"Fuck yes." We said in unison as I pushed my whole shaft inside. I let it throb inside, leaning over and laying on him as he was on all fours. He tensed his hole, making me whimper. I pushed myself up, held onto his hips and started thrusting hard. Each slip out and in again felt better than the last and he arched his back in pleasure. Both of us moaned as I slammed myself against him, feeling the euphoric feeling sneak up on me and suddenly I was exploding inside of him. Filling up his hole, we both moaned and the sensation of me busting inside of him caused his cock to erupt, leaving a wet streak along the sheets.

"Holy shit. I didn't think things would feel this crazy inside another person." Jerry said, panting as he rolled over.

"That was amazing." I was also panting, a bit more aggressively from the thrusting.

"I should probably hop out of him. I feel him waking up." Jerry said, jumping up and squatting bit. I watched a hand suddenly appear from his ass, grabbing ahold of his ankles and pulling himself out. The wet squelching was insane as Jerry appeared as his naked self once more. Devon passed out and I pushed him onto the bed. I quickly pushed him into the same position he was in and then met Jerry outside of the door as he was getting ready.

"We should do that again some time." He said, slipping on his shirt.

"Oh, we should do it again and again. that was incredible." I could hear stirring from inside and we ran over to the couch, turning it onto something random. With one final glance at each other, Devon walked out and he had no idea what had just happened between us.

[the-fab-fox]

Okay so this has been something I've been chewing on for a long while. About making this post I mean.

This one is to those who actively ingest fanfiction but seem to think it's okay to just read free fiction that people have put time and thought and crafted prose for your enjoyment and do nothing in return.

All we ever ask for and all we ever want is for y'all to AT THE VERY LEAST hit that kudos button if you like the work. That is the BARE MINIMUM of what you SHOULD be doing. Especially all of you who say you're too nervous to comment or don't wish to be perceived. And if you don't want your account on the list, you can log out and send a guest kudos.

But as I said, BARE MINIMUM. If you loved the fic, if you got something out of it that left you feeling good and energized (or whatever angst does for y'all) then I want to take a moment and strongly urge you to comment, subscribe (if a wip), and bookmark those works. Did you know there's an option to even mark it as a Fic Recommendation? You can put notes in to and say why you liked it and things like that (DO NOT DO A RATING IN PUBLIC BOOKMARKS HOWEVER). And, you can indeed make them private! The writer still gets the number added to their stats but your bookmark we won't see.

Anyway, I now wanna turn your attention to Exhibit A:

This is a list of my best performing fics. Do you see the problem with this? The green highlights are the hits I've received for those fics. The red is the Kudos and comment threads. Now the kudos is obviously right?

Let's look at my number one fic right now, Accidentally in Love (a Malleyuu fic from Twisted Wonderland fandom). It's the seventh fic in a romance series. As you can see, it's doing great as far as hits, right? And I know it's an amazing fic from the comments I have received and just from rereading it myself. Note, I am probably the biggest bully to myself as @sunshineandteddybears and @mellosdrawings and @romantichopelessly can tell you in great detail. So when I am saying it's really damn good, you can probably trust it's gonna be pretty damn good. And yet, a fic that has 4K hits only has 119 kudos. And now to bring your attention to the comment threads. So honestly with how bad readers are on actually commenting (which by the way if you log off you can send anonymously as a guest—you'll have to put in your email address but we authors won't see that)... 107 seems pretty good right? But you guys don't see that. You see what's on the info for the story. Unfortunately, on the fic info at the top of the story, it counts every single comment (including the Author's). (The comment threads is just every single starting comment, i.e. the first comment received from each commenter.)

The thing is, I—and probably quite a few other writers—do respond to every single comment.

So that means where the info on my fic itself says 230 comments, in reality, I'm at half that when I subtract my half of the comments. So that's actually 115 comments from other people. So some people might see that 230 and think oh they got a lot of comments so I don't think they want to hear from me or I can't be fucked and they're already doing good so.

NO. NO. NO. Do not look at the numbers as a guide if a fic is good or not. Do not look at the numbers and think that we don't need or deserve to get any more. And finally WE WANT TO HEAR FROM Y'ALL.

Excuses need to stop.

Speaking of numbers. Here's my over all stats current on AO3.

In the 3 years on this AO3 account (I've had others in the past and accounts on ff.net and live journal. I'm an oldie fanfic writer lol. 21 years of fanfic. My gods. 🤣) It didn't used to be like this guys. Back in the day I'd get 12 plus comments on a chapter and this is on stuff a teenager wrote.

We have got to get back to the point of supporting each other and building each other up. Also while I'm at it, I have a huge beef with the fact that fanartists get so much more positive feedback and replies and comments, but the thing is, even their numbers are skewed. You can go into the notes of a fanart on here that has 10k notes to see they have maybe 100-1K reblogs (if that, I'm being generous) and maybe 10 or so replies (if turned on) and the rest are all likes. EVERYONE has been on here long enough by now to know that likes do nothing to get a post in the algorithm and tags only do so much. Reblogs are the only way their art (or our fanfictions for people who post them on here) gets seen! By sharing!

So y'all gotta get better. Yes, we write for ourselves first, but ultimately a story is meant to be shared with everyone and feedback should not be optional if you're actively reading the fics or viewing the art for free and enjoyed it!

TLDR:

IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANFIC. KUDOS AT THE VERY LEAST BUT BE BETTER. COMMENT. BOOKMARK. SUBSCRIBE IF IT'S A WIP YOU LOVE. (Like, comment and reblog if on Tumblr)

IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANART ON TUMBLR. COMMENT. LIKE. REBLOG.

DO BETTER AS READERS AND US WRITERS AND ARTISTS WILL GIVE YOU THE WORLD (AND MANY OTHER WORLDS TO BOOT)

That is all. Please reblog the fuck out of this if you agree.

(and tagging my current and last fandoms so this can get in fandom spaces where it needs to be.)

[cherryswisherz]

KARMIC BALANCE ✷ CHAPTER III

✷WARNINGS cursing, pining??? idk. mention of the nd game and h*annah h*dalgo

✷NIYAH SPEAKS aye we back! this one is just paiges pob

✦✦✦✦

SENIOR YEAR

We lose to Notre Dame every year. 

Every. Fucking. Year. 

And now that I’m home in Storrs, looking at everyone as they try to mask their disappointment, I feel the loss even more. 

Which is why I’m walking around in the middle of night, the December air biting into my skin. I can’t stop thinking about everything that went wrong. Why everything went wrong. 

I honestly have no fucking clue why, but I know what went wrong. Everyone does. Our defense was lousy, our shots were horrible, we got too tired. I could go on, but that won’t fix anything. 

I find myself at Xavi and Janes house before I realize it. I tell myself that it’s because Yanna’s there, and not because of the wisdom that Xavia seems to have about every aspect of life. 

When Xavia opens the door wearing a smile and a moo moo, I ignore that bubly feeling in my chest and ask to come in. 

Once inside, I see her apartment is almost completely dark. The big lights are off, the living room being lit only by a candle and two lamps in opposite corners. 

“So, what’s up P?” Xavi asks, running her hands down the silk of her moo moo. “It’s almost midnight and you’re usually dead to the world by 9.”

Knowing that Xavia knows my bedtime makes me smile for reasons I don’t want to admit. 

When I first met her, Xavia was like a mystery. She was funny and smart and absolutely fucking beautiful. She’d apologized for making a false assumption about me. It was the first and only time anyone had ever done that and I never forgot it. 

When she and Jane started coming around more, I forced myself to swallow the want I had to learn more about her, to learn from her because I knew that if I’d gotten to the root of who she was, I’d be even more enthralled than I already was at that point. 

Eventually my heart stopped beating so fast around her. I’d stopped avoiding being within 3 feet of her and trained myself to treat her like I’d treated all my other friends. 

Because that’s what she is. My friend. 

It didn’t matter that her not worshipping ground I walked on excited me. It didn’t matter that almost every conversation we had alone rested in the back of my mind at all times. 

Xavia is my friend and that’s all she’d ever be. 

“Yeah I know. I just can’t get the ND game outta my head and I thought Yanna would be here to talk to.”

I’m lying and I know it. Whether Yanna was here or not, I would have found a way to talk to Xavi. I always did. Not because I wanted to be around her, but because she always had the answer to whatever problem that I have. Anyone would do the same if they’d stopped to pay attention when she was trying to get a word in. 

“Oh, yeah, she’s not here.” Xavi pointed a thumb to the back of her house, where Her and Jane’d bedroom’s were. Her locs swayed with the turn of her head. “Her and Jane went to Urgent Care cause she hit her shoulder on the wall and-” She waves her hands anxiously, as if she doesn’t feel like explaining a complex situation. “It was a whole thing. I’m sure you’ll hear about it tomorrow.”

I know I should be worried about my teammate who can’t seem to stay healthy. And I am. I make a mental note to check in on Yanna at some point, but right now, I’m thinking of a way I can stay and talk to Xavi without making it a thing.

“Oh…” is what I came up with. 

“You can talk to me?” Thank. God. “ If you want.”

Of course I fucking want. It’s all I’ve done for the past three years. 

I want to be a better person. 

I want to be 19 again and do everything differently. 

I want to win the championship this year. 

But all those wants are null and void for the biggest want of all. 

I want to get drafted to the WNBA.

And I’ve made  too many shitty decisions to get there to just throw it all away. So what if I’m miserable?

“Uh, yeah. That’s cool.” I play off my desperation and take a seat on her orange bean bag. 

Xavi plops down on the couch in front of me, crossing her legs and folding her hands. All her attention is on me and a part of me feels like I don’t deserve the attention of this amazing woman. But a bigger part is screaming that this is how it should be. 

Me, admiring every part of her, and her, willing and ready for anything I give her. 

Of course, in this situation all she wants is to know what’s on my mind, but I would give her whatever else she could think up. 

“So whatcha thinkin ‘bout?”  She asks sweetly. 

Her voice isn’t obnoxiously high. It’s kinda deep and mellow, just like she is.

“Um… I just can’t get over everything.” I shake my head and look at my hands. Hands that are supposed to get me everywhere I want in life.  “Like, I get why we lost. What we did wrong on the basketball front. But we were off the other day. We’d run those plays over and over again in practice. Studied film. We should have been prepared, but we were just off.  Like no matter how hard we tried, we just couldn’t get there.”

Xavia nods her head like she understands everything I’m saying. 

“Like everything was against you guys?” she questions. 

“No. I don’t think that anything was unfair. I think that our all just wasn’t enough.”

“Well, I know you can’t speak for anyone else, and I’d never ask you to. But why do you think you were off that night?”

She sounds like a therapist. The kind that isn’t just trying to fix you, but trying to understand you. The kind that hangs on to every word, but not to hold it against you.

“I don’t know. I just kept getting madder and madder and it threw me off. I did everything I was supposed to do.”

She looks confused now. “What do you mean ‘supposed to do’?”

“Like everything I thought was right. Everything I've always done.”

“Maybe that’s the issue.” 

Now I’m confused. 

“What?”

Following my routine has taken me and my team to the Final Four, and for Xavi to tell me it’s wrong stings a little. 

“Maybe doing everything you’ve always done isn’t the answer. Paige, you’re a somewhat mature adult. Do you honestly think you’re right all the time?”

What does she mean ‘somewhat’ mature? 

“...No?”

“Right.” Xavi sounds so sure of herself, leaning in and starting to talk with her hands like she does when she’s talking about her coursework or something equally as interesting to her. “It’s impossible to be right in every situation because every situation is different. When you throughout your daily life, do you treat every person the same? Do you go into every conversation with the same mindset, expecting the same outcome?”

I mean most people are the same, so what else am I supposed to do?

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Well that’s no bueno, babe.” She huffs out, pointing at me. Then, she entrances me again with her hands as she speaks. “ Every human is different. They have different pasts, and different views. Even if the difference between one person and another is miniscule, it’s there. And that difference is why it’s so important that we don’t generalize people.”

I know she’s stopped talking but I’m so caught up in her voice, and her hands and her face, and her to contribute to the conversation.

“Are you understanding?” She asks, seemingly genuinely concern with whether I’m comprehending what she’s telling me. 

And the answer is no, I’m not understanding. Whether there’s a differenc eor not, each person want the same thing and should be dealt with the same, based on what they want. 

This is the code fucking live by,a nd she’s sitting her debunking it in the most intellectual, attractive way possible.

“Not really.”

“Okay so like…” She sighs, pauses to think and then continues. “Do you remember when we first met? When I assumed you were a whore like alot of college athletes are?”

The reminder of our first interaction brings a calmness to me. I remember everything abou that night in her dorm. She wore sweats with no bra, and I’m pretty sure she was stoned.

“Yeah of course. You apologized to me that night and it kinda weirded me out.”

“Right.” Xavia snapped her fingers, bringing me out of my memory. “I apologized to you, because I generalized you and made an assumption based on one aspect of your identity. And I think it weirded you out because you’d generalized every person who’d made an assumption about you. I guess it’s rare that people apologize after being an asshole to you.”

It was rare. So rare that she’s the only person who’d ever done it.

“Okay…”

“So. Incourpurating that into basketball. Every team is different.”

I nod my head to let her know I was following. “Of course.”

“Okay and so every player on every team is different too.”

She lost me.

“No.” Now I’m the one leaning forward, talking with my hands. “They all move as a team. Yes, they have differences, but they’re all working together.”

“I see it differently.” She shrugs like she’s the master of basketball and done copious amounts of research on the psyche of an athlet.  “I feel like every player on that court moves individually. Do they play for the same team, and have the same goal? Of course. But they’re all different. They all have different thoughts and concerns and ideas. You said that girl Hannah was the head of the snake, but I think you should see it differently.”

“How so?”

“Instead of thinking of a team as one snake, think of it like… Like cheetahs!”

“Cheetahs?”

“Cheetahs.” She finalizes. “Once the mama cheetah gives birth, she trains her cubs to survive in any situation. To adapt to any surroundings. She teaches her cubs how to kill different animals, to hide, all that. Eventually, the cubs form a sibling group and go out together to execute everything their mother has taught them. Are you getting the analogy?”

When she’s explaining it in laymans terms, of course I get it. She could probably explain thermodynamics to me and I’d understand it fully. Xavia just has a way of making everything in life seem so simple. It’s wonderful, really.

“Yeah. Like the coach is the mother, the players are the cubs.”

“Right. But each cub is different. There’s a more dominant one, there’s submissives and then theirs the runts. Each one has to edit their mothers lessons to make it useful to them individually. Does that make sense?”

I’ve decided that she’s blown my mind enough for tonight, once again by being right about everything. So I just chuckle and dismiss the topic.

“How do you come up with this shit, Xavi?”

She laughs like a seductress and leans back on the couch, “I dunno. I read alot.”

You read alot? Reading alot has given you the ability to break down a sport like you’ve played it your whole life?

“Well thank you for sharing your knowledge with my dumbass, oh wise one.”

I stand up from the beanbag and make my way to the door, ready to take my exit.

“I’m not wise, I just see from a different point of view than you. Sometimes you gotta get outta your head.”

“I guess.” I sigh, then open my arms. “Thanks, Xavi.” 

She steps into me, her head just below my chest and wraps her arms around me. Her body is warm, but the silk she’s wearing cold. She doesn’t hug me tight or aggressively. Just stands there with her arms around my waist. 

It feels terrifyingly comfortable. 

“Anytime P.” she mutters, pulling away and ushering me out of her home. 

The whole walk back, my mind is on her and everything she said. 

How is it that this girl that is the exact opposite of everything I’m looking for, seems to be everything I need?

✷TAGLIST @patscorner @riyahtheballer @mattslolita @thaatdigitaldiary @janaelalfysblunt @mrsengstler @kmoneymartini @sageworld

@darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @justliketoreadsowhat @pb524830 @pb524830 @dnftpn @sierrale8ne @numberonepartyanth3m

@pppaaiiiggggeeeeee @uwupaige @paigeluvvr @colorthecosmos444 @authentic-girl03 @makethemhoesmad @lovegalor333 @mrsarnold

@sellasstories @heart4caitlin @avvwritesstufff @st4rrzynight @bueckersp @paxaz535 @thelightknight21 @paxaz535

[helen-lucilfer]

the aot men headcanons and ranking (+ the aot modern alternate universe headcanons and rankings)

———

how good of fathers would they be out of 10?

eren - 5/10. he’s not bad; just…he’s impulsive. he’s the dad who’s fun and all, playing with his kids and ruffling them on the head. but he’s probably going to teach his kids how to punch other people in the most painful way too. then when the kid’s mother scolds eren for it, he just shrugs.

armin - 8/10. literally the sweetest guy ever, but i have this feeling deep inside me knowing that he would have a hard time scolding his child. he’d see them tear up and then he’d start tearing up too and feel SO BAD while hugging them. he would be a girl dad though, with his gentle personality and all.

jean - 8.5/10. he’s a girl dad, no you can’t change my mind. he’d spoil his kids ROTTEN—and i’d bet all of my money that he would teach his son chivalrous values while treating his daughter like a little princess, just like how he was raised (ughhhh the jean and his mom OVA has my heart🥺💕)

conny - 4/10. he’s such a sweetie, but the biggest problem is his lack of experience since HE’S always the one getting taken care of, plus he’s not the brightest. i just KNOW that when he holds his baby, they start crying uncontrollably, and he freaks out because he doesn’t know what to do.

levi - 7/10. what? he’s literally already a dad to eren and mikasa and armin and conny and jean and sasha and…okay, i think you get it. but losing so many people in his life will definitely impact his parenting style. i guarantee that he will be overprotective of his kids due to being scared of losing them.

reiner (MY MAN🤤) - 9/10. JUST LOOK AT HIM WITH GABI AND FALCO AND ZOFIA AND UDO🥺. he CAN BE responsible and a good leader if he tries, which are natural qualities of a good father. but similar to levi, after losing so many people, he’d be pretty protective of his kids. especially growing up as an eldian in marley, he’d be so overly concerned for his kids.

———

are they good at cooking?

eren - no. do NOT let this man into the kitchen under any circumstances unless you want to look like armin during season 3.

armin - yes, definitely. armin deserves to have a professional chef license. the moment anyone is craving something, here he is.

jean - no. this guy had literally been spoiled ever since day one, since his mom literally always feeds him and pampers him.

conny - NO. please, NEVER let this man within 2 yards of the kitchen. he WILL burn down the kitchen. if he doesn’t, the food will be inedible.

levi - barely. he had to survive in the underground and all, so he can cook just a little bit. maybe a fried egg or heating some meat.

reiner - barely. similar to levi, having to survive warrior candidate training and being in a war for YEARS, he probably knows how to cook some sort of meat above a fire.

———

(modern AU) can they drive?

eren - he’s average at driving. he gets road rage and starts speeding like crazy before he finally gets a ticket.

armin - he’d be too nervous on the road. he’d be too scared of accidentally hitting another car or speeding.

jean - surprisingly good. probably one of the only one of the main cast who doesn’t ever get into a car crash or a ticket.

conny - NO. please don’t ever get into this man’s car. you WILL come out throwing up and hugging the ground.

levi - he’s not the best at driving, but he can get the job done. he has road rage, but he isn’t too obvious about it. but he WILL drum his fingers on the steering wheel.

reiner - definitely. he’s 100% that one person that everyone goes to whenever they need someone to drive them somewhere.

———

random hc about them in the modern AU

eren - goth mikasa once asked eren to cosplay as light and misa with her. eren didn’t even know who they were, so he then agreed. it didn’t end well for eren.

armin - whenever he has a crush, he never tells them out of fear because he’s a weirdo. because of that, he always slowly watches them fall in love with someone else😕

jean - every morning, he spends 2 hours on his hair. he does it not only to impress mikasa, but also because he loves looking at his entire face. eren called him a horse one day and jean stopped.

conny - the reason he has a bald head is because he found a razor in his house one day. he remembered seeing people on YouTube using it and he found it cool, trying to shave his chin. suddenly his arm went out of control and the razor went to his hair.

levi - he was once cleaning the bathrooms and heard a student crying in one of the stalls. he felt bad but just didn’t really say anything because he didn’t know what to say. when he found out who the student was, he always made sure to pay extra attention to them.

reiner (my man canonically follows historia all the time during this AU😔) - he works out all the time in the school gym instead of the public gym because he wants to impress historia.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Your most recent post about how you would(n’t) use Lila was interesting, because after I read how you’d handle a Chloe redemption I thought Lila would make a good counterpart to Chloe for Adrien, an object lesson about how some people can’t/don’t want to be redeemed.

Start out before or near the beginning of the redemption arc with Chloe as the bully with a long history of misdeeds to make up for, and Lila as (Adrien and the audience thinks) a nervous newcomer who told some lies for attention/popularity. Adrien might even think of her situation as Easy Mode or good practice for helping Chloe. Then time goes on, and as Chloe shows signs of improvement, Lila gradually reveals her true nature.

(Chloe post and Lila post for context)

I don't totally disagree. There are versions of canon where Lila and Chloe would be good choices for a nuanced discussion on redemption. For example, if canon was all about the teenage characters and had no adult villains, then Lila would be a great choice for damnation! The problem is that canon didn't take that route or really any route where Lila feels like a good addition to the cast, let alone someone worthy of being Chloe's counterpart in a lesson about the nuances of redemption.

The main plot of Miraculous should have been Gabriel's reveal and downfall. The point of Chloe's redemption should have been prepping Adrien for said reveal and downfall. Through her, Adrien first learns how to cut off someone you love and then learns how to decide if you want to bring that person back into your life. That is a full and complete lesson. Trying to repeat the lesson or supplement the lesson with Lila feels unnecessary for the same reason I don't like her as the new main villain: she's no one. A total rando with no close ties to Adrien or anyone else. Adrien wanting to help her is fine in theory, but hard to see as a valuable addition because she doesn't matter to his character. We have his father, his close childhood friend, and a random girl he barely knows. One of these things is not like the other. That lack of depth removes most or even all of the emotional impact that a failed Lila redemption would have on Adrien. It's not going to have much of an impact on the audience either unless you make some serious changes to Lila.

One of the show's biggest flaws is that Lila is not a functional character. She has no clear motivations, backstory, or even a strong tie to the main plot of seasons one to five, making it hard to care about her. To have her damnation have any sort of emotional impact on the audience, you need to give her those things and have her develop actual relationships. Without that depth, she's an incredibly weak addition to the story who is only here to be a two-dimensional villain. The audience doesn't want her to be redeemed. We want to see her go down! Those are the wrong emotions for a lesson on failed redemption. Failed redemption should be a tragedy if you want the lesson to hit properly. It's easy to give up on people we don't really care about. It's hard to give up on people we love.

Add in the facts that Miraculous already has too many characters and that Chloe's redemption would be a subplot amidst everything else that's going on and I just don't see Lila being worth the screen time it would take to let her have a proper damnation when you're already giving Gabriel a damnation. Plus it's kind of depressing to have one redemption against two damnations and I like to keep the sad elements limited so that they really pop. Damning Lila and then Gabriel would make Gabriel's damnation feel less powerful.

Even if the plan was to redeem Gabriel, I still wouldn't use Lila as our damnation case study. I'd use Nathalie. She's far more interesting and has an actual tie to the overall plot, making her super easy to involve. Her and Gabriel share the screen constantly, making it very easy to contrast them as the story goes on. You can't really do that with Lila and Chloe because Lila and Chloe would never team up in a story where Chloe gets a redemption arc. Canon had to add Chloe's Marinette obsession to make the Lila & Chloe plot work and Chloe's redemption doesn't work if she hates Marinette to that extreme. I don't think that version of Chloe is beyond redemption, but I would never redeem her into Marinette's friend group. Seasons-four-and-five Chloe needs a fresh start with people she hasn't hurt. I don't know if she could ever be friends with Marinette and I don't particularly care to see it.

I love a good redemption, but part of writing those is knowing that there are lines that a character can't cross if you want them to be forgiven and accepted by your core cast later on. It's that whole romanticizing the cycle of abuse thing that I've discussed before re enemies-to-lovers stories and the general concept of redeeming Gabriel. I get why people like it, it's a wonderful fantasy, but for me it's an incredibly hard sell. My suspension of disbelief almost always breaks, leaving me feeling sad and unsatisfied.

[jewish-vents]

I think that one of the biggest gaps between Jews in diaspora vs. us Jews in Israel is the mentality of the majority vs. the mentality of a minority. That's why, whenever I speak of how I feel like Judaism is oppressively shoved down my throat as a secular person I see that Jews in diaspora don't get it. They strive for representation, while here it's the norm. There is no need for a Jewish character, because practically everyone is Jewish on TV. That's why I believe there is barely any discourse outside Israel about oppression of seculars in Israel. It's a serious issue. Most Israelis who plan on immigrating whom I've spoken to, have told me that that is the leading reason of them wanting to immigrate. Not Palestinian terrorism, but internal political Jewish struggles. It saddens me that religious people in Israel cannot accept that we also want freedom from *their* definition of Judaism. Just the other day, I've protested quietly, with my eyes covered in a yellow ribbon to represent the hostages, and people kept yelling at me that I don't know my Jewish values as a secular person. After another protest, someone went up to my friend and I and asked us why we are against Judaism. I'm sorry, but how does protesting for the return of the hostages against Judaism? Again, whenever I speak to Jews abroad, they don't grasp what my problem is. Sometimes, I wish religious Jews in Israel would admit that there is secularism oppression here.

.

[talesfromawannabewriter]

The Queen of Hell

A Christmas gift for @koji-haru and @twost3ps based on each other swap au.

Charlie was beaming with excitement as she waited for the Queen. After months of persuasion from the council and a bit of beseeching to her parents the little angel was finally able to get a meeting with the Queen of Hell herself. When Charlie had first learned about the overpopulation in Hell she didn’t think much of it. Only that it was a shame so many human souls chose a life of debauchery instead of purity. Then she heard about the solution to the problem, exterminations.

 Once a year an army roams about Hell killing all and any sinner. But what really made Charlie recoil in disgust was that according to her parents it’s the royal family conducting them personally. At first she couldn’t help but think they were monsters doing that to their own subjects. Wasn’t it their job to protect and care for them? She always heard her father talk about how when he got back from a meeting with them how not only their subjects were thriving but so were their subjects. 

According to him, there were few who weren’t happy in their kingdom. Even the lower class could gain jobs that paid well if they worked hard.So it was then that Charlie came up with a new theory. They simply didn’t have enough resources to take care of them! They were demons after all, in their minds they were probably putting them down like a sick dog. 

Thinking it was for the best. But soon they’d have a new solution, one that benefits everyone. Now Charlie sat there waiting patiently for the Queen to arrive and for this meeting to start. She didn’t have to wait much longer, the doors flew open as the Queen herself entered. 

She was tall with gold and black horns adding to her height. She was at least seven feet tall. She noticed the tiara nestled in her hair between the sharp horns. Its rubies glistened in the light. She was wearing a purple gown that reminded her of fashion from the Victorian era. 

Only this gown exposed a good portion of her more than generous cleavage. Which were snugged in by what Charlie imagined was her corset underneath. In fact she could see clearly that this woman was well endowed everywhere. Not just curvaceously but beautifully as well. She reminded Charlie of a sculpture made that stood in one of Heaven’s many gardens. 

However what grabbed the young girl’s attention the most were her eyes. They were golden, like angels. Yet they shone with no holy light in them. They were something else as they landed their sharp gaze on Charlie. She gulped and prepared to make her way over to where she and her companions were to introduce herself. That’s when she heard a deep voice echo through the room.

Adam: Charlotte Morningstar I assume? The daughter of the head seraphim?

Charlie felt her brain stop as a very male voice escaped the lips from the Queen. She blinked, unsure if that just happened. 

Adam: Well, are you?

Nope it definitely happened. The Queen of Hell had a…they were…she’s a…

Charlie: You're a man.

She stated dumbly. After a few seconds did Charlie’s brain catch on to what she just said.

Charlie: I mean of course you're a man! Why wouldn’t I know if you were a man? Because that’s what you, the Queen of Hell are! A guy! Hahaha!

The Queen merely gave her an unimpressed stare and sat down. 

Adam: Hmm, well you certainly are Lucifer’s child no doubt about that. Now are we going to get this meeting underway or not? I have a very busy schedule. 

Charlie blushed in embarrassment and cleared her throat. 

Charlie: Right, sorry. Your highness I have come here today there is a lot I want to get through and not too much time so let’s begin. I heard about your biggest problem and I’ve come with a solution!

Adam: Problem? What problem are you speaking of? We have no problem. Because any problem that we have we execute promptly. Such as the same for Heaven I imagine. 

It was then Charlie noticed that he somehow conjured a plate full of large, pork sausages. On the she side was a pear chopped in half that appeared to be baked. To finish this meal was a goblet that was filled to the brim of what Charlie assumed when she saw the dark liquid wasn’t juice. 

Adam: I hope you don’t mind what I eat. It’s been such a hectic morning that I didn’t have the opportunity for even breakfast. 

He didn’t give her a chance to respond before placing a cut up piece of meat in his mouth. 

Charlie: Uh no! Nope! Not at all, please feast away.

Adam: Thank you.

He said before nodding for her to continue. 

Charlie: Right! As I was saying, I have a solution to your problem, the overpopulation of Hell.

Adam: That’s not a problem for us actually we have that covered. This last extermination my daughter Aclima managed to kill over half of the sinner population. Isn’t that wonderful? I’m so proud of her.

Charlie: What? No! How is that a good thing!? Those souls you killed were human souls! You do realize that?

Adam looked considerate for a moment before going back to his usual self.

Adam: Well I apologize that you're a bleeding heart who has a weak stomach for violence but I fail to see why you care so much?

Charlie: Because those souls…they are just the same as the ones we have up there. Sure they are far from perfect but…

Adam: But nothing. Listen here and listen well, the human souls we have are nothing like the ones Heaven has. These souls that Hell houses belong down here. They have earned their place among the fire and brimstone. In fact if it wasn’t for us the sinners would be causing havoc. Maybe even trying to rule Heaven or worse me and my husband. 

 The king. The other ruler of Hell. The devil. The traitor. The one whose chaos spread all throughout the Earth. 

Even to this day. The being who scared Charlie when her mother would recount tales about him since creation. In fact there were barely any up there who wasn’t absolutely petrified by the mere thought of him. She pushed back those thoughts as she tried to make a counterattack.

Charlie: But these souls(makes sound then sighs) are your subjects. I thought you cared about them? 

Adam: Correction, they are not subjects. They are our prisoners. The ones born down here are our subjects. Our true people. 

Charlie: But, but, but…This is wrong! The exterminations are wrong! 

Something shifted in the Queen of Hell. He stood from his chair and slowly made his way down to the other end of the table. Where Charlie was. Dread filled the young seraphim as the queen suddenly stood in front of her glaring a hole into her.

Adam: Life isn’t fair, little one. But what would an angel, let alone the daughter of the head seraphim, know about what’s fair? 

Charlie: Please just listen! I know of another way! One where you no longer have to dirty your hands with blood! I can help redeem them! I can set up shop down here, somewhere and you can send the sinners to me and I’ll cleanse all their souls. Both overpopulation and the exterminations will be dissolved. You can even say it’ll be a happy day in-

Adam: I’m going to stop you right there and save us both precious time. I want you to get this through your thick skull. Not one of those sinners out there are capable of crossing your pearly gates. All those sinners had their chances to be better and now they must boil in my pot. By Heaven's decree the rules are black and white, so there is no use in trying to fight it. We will make them burn for their lives until we kill them again. 

He was practically growling out each syllable as his eyes glowed with fury. By the time he finished Charlie was a shaking mess, trying her best not to cry. Satisfied, the Queen stepped back, his eyes back to normal molten color and went back to his seat where he finished the remainder of his meal. All while Charlie sat there completely petrified. Once down he cleaned his face with a napkin and turned his gaze back on Charlie. 

Causing her to flinch. His lips tugged slightly upwards.

Adam: Now then, if that is all you came here for then I only have one thing left to say. Tell your father I, Adam, send my regards. 

Before Charlie could say anything the Queen, Adam, dissipated in a flash of smoke. Leaving behind his now empty plates. Charlie sat there stumped for a few minutes as she wondered where she heard that name before.

Charlie internally : Adam, Adam, Adam, Ad…wait. Adam as in the first man Adam? The first to sin Adam? That would mean….Oh that explains so much. 

Of course the Queen of the sinners would be the one to first initiate sin. By biting into the forbidden fruit after being offered by the snake. There wasn’t much told about Adam after that. Only that he and Eve were kicked out of the garden. Eve was given a new, more faithful husband and Adam was left to slowly crumble from the outside forces of the unfinished Earth. 

At least according to the history of creation told by Heaven, and her parents themselves. She guessed after he died he was sent to Hell. It all made sense now the reason he absolutely loathes all sinners is because he was the very first sinner. He must hate what he unintentionally created. Her big heart couldn’t help but squeeze at the thought. 

If she could show him that sinners weren’t completely hopeless then maybe she could reach him. Straight to…whatever demons have for hearts. 

Yes she will succeed. She will redeem a sinner before the next extermination and she will bring peace between the two realms. 

If only the angel knew of the long path of betrayal, truth, and heartbreak she would face when she started her journey. 

[deterioratingpisces]

Daniel Molloy, marriage councillor from hell.

He’s got a 98% divorce rate. The other 2%? They’re probably staying together out of sheer spite—or fear of returning to his office.

Instead of fixing his clients’ problems, he digs up some more. Forget “working on communication.” He’s a master at uncovering your worst secrets and weaponizing them like a teenager in a text fight.

He gets a little spark in his eyes whenever he finds something new to grill his clients about. It’s the closest he gets to joy: that glint that says, “Oh, you thought that wasn’t going to come up?”

Don’t worry about him playing favourites; he’s being a little shit to everyone equally. Even the mildest disagreements become battlefields under his gaze. You’ll go in debating how to load the dishwasher and come out wondering if love is even real.

Also, don’t be gleeful when your partner is on the receiving end of his judgement. Your turn is just around the corner. The moment he catches a whiff of smugness, he redirects like a hawk zeroing in on fresh prey.

Passive-aggressiveness just gasses him up more. Every eye roll, every groan, every passive-aggressive “are we done here?”—it’s all fuel for the fire. You think you’re breaking him down, but really, you’re just feeding the beast.

The only way of coming out of his therapy still married is through fraternizing against him. But good luck. Before you can say “teamwork,” he’s found the one thing you can’t agree on and driven a wedge so deep, you’ll forget you were ever on the same side.

Probably one of the biggest mistakes you could make is trying to weaponize his own two failed marriages against him. Oh, sweet summer child. You think that’s a trump card? He’ll shrug it off like lint on his blazer and hit you with, “That’s adorable, but let’s talk about why you brought this up.” Cue emotional bloodbath.

Thinking you can charm him by mentioning you’ve read his work and thought it was brilliant? Big mistake. He doesn’t take compliments; he takes ammunition. “Oh, you read my book? Fascinating. Let’s talk about why you felt the need to bring that up. Seeking validation, perhaps?” Now you’re defending yourself for being polite.

He’s written exactly one book, and it’s the kind of thing only masochists or grad students read. Titled “Irreconcilable: Why Most Marriages Were Doomed Before They Began,” it’s a scathing 600-page manifesto on why love is an illusion and compromise is a scam.

He’ll be going off on you for one hour, and the second the time is up he’s his perfectly composed self. Nothing like hearing, “Same time next week? We’re really cracking this open!” after you’ve spent an hour sobbing and accusing your spouse of crimes you didn’t even know you cared about.

He’s immensely motionless and visibly dissatisfied every time a couple does make it out of his counseling still together. No congratulations. No “job well done.” Just a flat, “Wow. Guess miracles do happen.” The closest thing to an endorsement you’ll ever get.

If you somehow survive his sessions intact, you’ll leave with a list of issues you didn’t even know you had. Trust issues? Check. Miscommunication? Check. A sudden, inexplicable need to google “how to file a restraining order”? Double check.

His office décor is clinically neutral—beige walls, minimal art—because the real carnage happens in your emotional landscape. There’s no place for comfort here. Just two chairs, a box of tissues, and the sharp glare of his judgment.

He’s the kind of counselor who will literally pause a heated argument to correct your grammar. “Actually, it’s ‘my partner and I,’ not ‘me and my partner.’ But please, go on about how they never support you.”

He’s got a poker face so strong, even the most unhinged confession barely raises an eyebrow. You could admit to orchestrating a fake kidnapping to test your partner’s loyalty, and he’d just scribble something in his notebook with a bored, “Huh. Interesting.”

Somehow, he remembers everything. That tiny detail you offhandedly mentioned in week one? He’ll bring it back 15 sessions later, weaponized and sharper than your spouse’s passive-aggressive tone during your last fight.

His motto? “Honesty isn’t always the best policy—it’s just the most fun for me.” Because nothing says therapy like watching couples tear each other apart under the guise of “truth.”

Every session is like playing emotional Minesweeper. You think you’re navigating safely until—BOOM—he hits you with a “So when are you planning to tell them about the credit card debt?”

He’s probably got a closet full of tissue boxes because he goes through multiple ones a day. Not that he’s offering comfort, mind you. He’s just emotionally eviscerating people left and right, leaving them to weep into piles of Kleenex while he sits there scribbling in his notebook like “Another one bites the dust.”

On the rare occasion he does favour one client over their partner, he’ll join in with them to gaslight the other. If you thought your gaslighting was bad, wait until he tags in. “Honestly, that’s a perfectly normal thing to do. I don’t know why your partner’s making such a big deal about it.” Next thing you know, you’re doubting your grip on reality.

You know he’s in a good mood when he starts with, ‘So, let’s revisit that thing you were hoping I’d forget.’ His version of ‘good vibes’ is a merciless callback to the worst fight you’ve ever had. Bonus points if it involves a completely trivial topic like a burnt casserole.

He once accidentally helped save/improve a marriage, and he still brings it up as his greatest failure. “It wasn’t my fault. They blindsided me by… actually communicating. Ugh.”

He doesn’t just break you down emotionally; he’ll dismantle your hobbies too. “So you knit to ‘relax’? Interesting. Is that why your partner feels neglected every time you pick up the needles?”

Every now and then, he’ll throw in a “fun” hypothetical just to spice things up. “So, if your spouse did start an affair with their coworker, how do you think you’d react? No, seriously, let’s explore that.” And just like that, he’s set your relationship on fire.

If you’re brave enough to call him out for being biased, he’ll hit you with a “Why do you think you feel that way?” Congratulations, you just fell into his trap. Now you’re the one who needs to “explore your insecurities.”

He’s got a way of twisting even the smallest compliment into a passive-aggressive critique. “So you think they’re a good parent? Interesting that you don’t mention them being a good partner.”

No argument is off-limits to him, no matter how petty. You could be fighting over the remote, and he’ll somehow turn it into a deep dive on your inability to compromise. “Is it really about the TV? Or is it about the control you feel you’re losing in this relationship?”

He has the audacity to send you home with homework. Nothing says fun date night like sitting down to answer questions like, “What’s the worst thing your partner’s ever said to you, and why do you think they meant it?”

He signs off every session with, ‘It’s not my job to fix you. It’s my job to show you what’s broken.’ Thanks, Daniel. Really uplifting. Can’t wait for next week.

He keeps a tally on how many digs it takes for both of his clients to start sobbing. He’s like an emotional sniper, except instead of bullets, it’s a well-placed “So, how did your mother influence your relationship dynamic?”

He also keeps a separate count of how many clients had a full-on mental breakdown that week. At the end of the week, he probably leans back in his chair, reviewing the numbers with a satisfied, “Another record-breaking performance. Good job, me.”

He gets a twisted sense of joy from the whole thing. Every time someone cries, he casually slides the tissue box closer with a little smirk, like “That’s the spirit.”

He claims he doesn’t enjoy making people cry, but the smug look on his face says otherwise. You swear you caught him jotting “two-for-one cry deal” in the corner of his notebook after both you and your partner lost it in the same session.

If you call him out on the tally, he’ll act surprised. “Tally? Oh no, that’s just... uh... my grocery list. Don’t mind that.” Meanwhile, you can see “MENTY B TOTAL: 12” written in huge letters.

He has a "Hall of Fame" in his mind for the fastest emotional breakdowns. “Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Impressive, really. Most people hold out until the ten-minute mark.”

His biggest letdown of the week is a session where nobody cries. He’ll sigh heavily, jot something in his notebook, and mutter, “Well, we all have off days.”The week his tally hits zero? He might as well shut the whole office down. He’d sit at his desk, staring out the window, whispering, “Have I lost my touch? No... it’s them. They’re just repressing better.”

The reason his Google ratings are still up? It’s either fear—because who wants Daniel Molloy coming after them in a vengeful Yelp tirade—or gratitude, but of the gaslit variety. His clients walk away thinking, “Wow, our marriage was doomed from the start. Thank you, Mr. Molloy, for showing us the truth.”

There’s a rumor that he has a celebratory bell he rings in his private office for every milestone. After every couple that leaves his office divorced. Ding-ding-ding! “Another happy ending.”

Sometimes he drops subtle hints about the bell mid-session. “You know, not every couple makes it through therapy. But that’s okay. There’s… closure in accepting the truth.” And you know he’s thinking about that bell.

If he had his way, the bell would be a centerpiece of his practice. Displayed proudly behind his desk, polished to a shine, with an engraving: “In honor of irreconcilable differences.”

Please feel free to add anything I have missed. 💀

[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

love languages ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

sw boys x reader (ft. luke skywalker, han solo, anakin skywalker, obi-wan kenobi, poe dameron, din djarin) backtrack: “rewrite the stars”, zac efron + zendaya inspiration: this is part three of my little series (pjo version here and hp version here)

luke skywalker

giving: words of affirmation / acts of service

the problem with luke is that he changes, see. in a new hope he’s bright eyed and bushy tailed. by return of the jedi the poor dude has seen some stuff. in a new hope though, his giving love language is totally words of affirmation. he called leia beautiful, and while it’s kind of weird to think about because they’re, uh, brother and sister, it was still sweet. another love language for luke--in both a new hope and return of the jedi--is definitely acts of service. in episodes four and five, it’d be in a naive, following you around like a lost puppy kind of way. he’d jump at the opportunity to do anything for you, you’re literally his goddess, say the word “water” and he’ll be sprinting to get a glass of it for you. in return of the jedi though, he likes to do things for his partner in a more mature, protective way. he’d place more importance on making sure you’re safe, and he deems himself your protector until his dying breath. a runner up for return of the jedi luke would be quality time. he and his friends have been through war, and he knows how dangerous jedi life is. so he treasures every quiet moment he can have with his loved ones.

receiving: physical touch

LOOK HOW FLUSTERED MY BOY WAS WHEN LEIA KISSED HIM (never mind that it was mildly concerning given they’re siblings!). luke absolutely melts for physical touch, moreso in episodes four and five but in six as well. his face will get bright red, he’ll start stuttering, my man does not hide it well. his friends, especially han, will tease the f-- out of him. he’ll deny it vehemently, but he’d get on his knees for you if you so much as touch his shoulder. he likes every sort of physical touch, it doesn’t have to be kisses. he’ll be bursting with joy even when you’re just linking pinkies during meetings; he’ll be constantly bouncing in his seat and will absolutely not be able to pay attention. also he definitely clings onto you while you’re sleeping like you’re a stuffed animal.

han solo

giving: gift giving

legitimately, I think sometimes when han smuggles physical materials, he’ll pick the best thing and steal it from the cargo and just give it to his partner. han’s not rich, but he wants his partner to have the best things in life, especially since he doesn’t think he can offer much else (except for his dashing good looks, of course). does it sometimes get him in trouble when his bosses notice that the biggest diamond is missing from the cargo? yeah. does he care? nope.

receiving: quality time

han’s constantly on the move with his job. he doesn’t have time to relax, since he’s often looking over his shoulder for bounty hunters. when he has free time, he’d love to play a relaxed game on the falcon with his partner. his favorite is the one with the holograms that c3po and r2d2 play versus chewbacca. he usually doesn’t go all out because he’s usually playing against chewbacca, and they’re good buddies but han doesn’t really want to find out what would happen if he won against the wookiee. but against his partner? oh he’s going all out. he’s not a gentleman. he’ll absolutely obliterate you and laugh about it. it’s kind of charming though.

anakin skywalker

giving: words of affirmation

okay, mister “are you an angel?”. mister “you are so beautiful”. mister “I’m haunted by the kiss you never should have given me”, even though that line was kind of awkward coming from nineteen year old anakin. I don’t know how he can be so terribly unarticulate, but at the same time the most romantic smooth talker in the whole star wars universe. I just know he’ll be showering his partner with all sorts of lovely, poetic compliments. he’s a charmer, he’ll swipe you right off your feet with his words.

receiving: physical touch

like father, like son, I guess. without a doubt, anakin’s also a physical touch guy (partly because I want him to be, but also because I genuinely think so). the poor dude’s had a rough childhood, so he’s starved of love. and most importantly, he’s touch starved. show him some love, please. hugs, kisses, cuddles, holding hands, anything of the sort. he’ll constantly whine if he can’t be physically affectionate with you, even though you both know it’s because you’re trying to keep your relationship a secret. he’s also a big cuddler and would 100% be a hidden little spoon, although he’ll be kind of embarrassed about it. when you put a hand on his cheek, he’ll immediately lean into your touch. also, I just have this thought that he’d love it when you ruffle or play with his hair. please do it. he’ll even bend down so you can reach his hair if there’s a big height difference between you two. but also, I feel like I can’t gloss over the fact that anakin is in serious need of some words of affirmation. he never gets it, even though he’s done so much for the jedi order. please tell him you love him and he’s awesome. he’ll melt.

obi-wan kenobi

giving: acts of service

I mean, do I really have to explain? obi-wan would be the perfect boyfriend. he’s an absolute gentleman. he’d be the best at princess treatment, always making sure you never have to lift a finger. however, some people are not into being babied or taken care of to that extent, and obi-wan knows that. he’d completely respect his partner’s independence and competence to do things for themselves, but he’d love to just take care of his partner as well. mostly, he wants to make sure his partner is protected and safe at all times, similar to return of the jedi luke.

receiving: quality time

obi-wan’s literally dedicated his life to the jedi order. not much is known about his childhood, but it’s safe to assume he started training really young (much younger than nine, at least, since anakin was deemed to be too old at that age, which is ridiculous) and for a really long period of time. he’s been so busy with training anakin and trying to keep up with him that he doesn’t have a lot of time to rest. so when he does have downtime, he’d want to spend it with his partner trying to form a deeper emotional bond. because really, obi-wan would definitely prioritize an emotional connection with his partner, and you can’t really make that happen when you’re fighting for your lives every day. I think he’d want to either change the jedi’s practices or leave the order because he’d want to spend time with his partner and be like an actual family (ahem ahem “had you asked, I would have left the order for you”). although I also think he’s touch starved and would get easily flustered by physical touches.

poe dameron

giving: words of affirmation

poe’s a charismatic guy, kind of a charmer. he’s brash and abrasive when he’s mad, but he’s generally quite the relaxed (as relaxed as you can be when you’re fighting for your life every day, I guess), cheeky guy. you know he has a few good pickup lines in his back pocket. he pulls them out any time he wants to charm someone. half of the time it’s because he’s doing it as a joke, but other times he genuinely tries to be slick with it (heads up, he’s not). something also tells me he’d like giving gifts to his partner too, to spoil them rotten (even though I can’t imagine he has that much money, sorry poe).

receiving: physical touch

why was I kind of at a loss for this one? I guess poe is just pretty touch starved too, it’s not like he has a partner in the movies and he’s under a lot of stress every day with the resistance. I feel like he’d lowkey get migraines or muscle pain pretty often, and he’d literally melt if you gave him a massage. he just likes being close to his partner, although he’d probably let slip a dirty joke every now and then. he’ll definitely tease you if you get flustered about it, but a little slap from you and he’ll shut up.

din djarin

giving: acts of service

acts of service is basically the thing that defines din’s life, lol. he’s catching bounties for people, he’s helping npcs with their side quests (what? who said that?), and just look at how much he cared for grogu and how dedicated he was to the cutie. he literally gave up the dream life with omera for grogu. for his partner, he’d go to the ends of the galaxy. he would risk his life. he’d sacrifice his life. it takes him a while to warm up to people--he’s a slow burn romance trope, don’t even mess with me on that--but once he’s found his soulmate, he’ll give his heart, mind, body, and soul to you. he’s at your service, completely.

receiving: quality time

din’s life is constantly changing. people come and go as he floats through space, taking jobs and completing them. he really appreciates those quiet nights on his ship with his partner. it’s just the two of you floating through space, and he can almost forget his busy life and just focus on you. I think he wishes he could have a slower, peaceful life. look how happy he was with omera on that one planet that I forget the name of. he was literally so tempted to stay, and I think he definitely would have if it weren’t for grogu. similar to obi-wan, though, he’s touch starved, so he’d appreciate a little physical touch every now and then as well. nothing huge, especially in the beginning, but just simple hugs and holding hands in private.

for this post I added in han because I can’t believe I forgot him in my last sw post. this is also unedited because I'm tired and I spent like two hours writing this

divider by @saradika-graphics

taglist: @loveinalocket, @raysmayhem-72, @toooster, @soft-likethesunset, @sheisntyou

[blackbloodteeth]

Today I've been absolutely infatuated with the idea of Stein having a pet toad. I'm talking a huge toad, like an absolute big fella the size of your head. Chillest toad in Nevada.

He got the thing when it was still young, about the size of a normal toad. Was just let loose in the halls of the school and no one knew where it came from. No one knew what to do with it either, so he decided to hold onto it both because people already assumed he was the one who did it and because his teachers kinda egged him on to keep something alive for once (it was his last year, he was starting to do better after the whole partnership swap thing).

Thing is, he never had the heart to dissect it. Maybe he related to it because he was actually lonely, who knows. Kinda just offhandedly said he'd take it apart after it croaked, and as it turns out it never did; thing just kept on growing and never made a noise once. It was the perfect lab assistant and rubber duck (rubber ducking is what programmers do when they need to solve a problem but haven't found the right approach to it yet, and often times they usually just need to talk it out to someone, so rubber ducks tend to be the biggest listeners. Stein definitely programmed and messed with electronics when he didn't have his hands on anything organic).

So throughout the years after graduating, holed up in his lab with his Big Friggin' Toad as his best friend, he'd ended up assigning it to different experiments that were a little less invasive. As it turns out, Big Friggin' Toads make for very good home security. Present day: Absolutely bonkers experiment (but really fun one), Stein ends up accidentally getting put inside the body of his toad. So many new senses to record, but alas he does not have opposable thumbs. He did, however, finally figure out how to wear little glasses and now he looks very dapper. Toad life is good.

There is no real moral of the story here, just a curious guy and his emotional support toad. I think this would be a really funny world to also have that one Soul who ended up messed up and now perpetually looks like he's being seen through an x-ray.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

I lowkey feel like a weirdo just reading and interacting with your posts without actually sending anything in the ask box LMAO

So here I am, to rant about pretty (not so) little twinks to my favorite writer

Everyone headcannons Hanma to be sadistic, and while I can definitely see that based on the way he acts and fights, I personally headcannon him to be a hardcore masochist who just tries to hide it by saying he's a sadist. Like this man doesn't dodge powerful punches and kicks from Mikey or Draken, no, no, he blocks them with his own body instead. His whole thing is always getting back up after tanking heavy hits like a monster. But he also very regularly eggs people on. He taunts and maims people to get them to fight him. He does this, every. Single. Fight.

So how does this translate into the bedroom? Well of course, his lanky ass wants nothing more than to get on your nerves. He wants to see how far he can push you, if he can make you genuinely mad. He wants to be the biggest little shit he possibly can until you have no choice but to punish him for it. And this boy can take a lot. Spanking? No problem. Choking? Yes please. Cbt? Why the hell not? Putting him into a borderline painful full nelson while relentless pounding into his prostate at mach jesus? He'd love every second, even if it renders him damn near bedridden for the next three days. Hell, we've seen how Hanma fights, you could probably beat the shit out of him or try to kill him and he'd pop a stiffy.

I feel like he might have a humiliation kink too. Like- shame this man for being so kinky and mock him for being pathetic. You could call him your little bitch and spit in his mouth and he'd just grin in response. And he's not really the type to break easily either. Even as you have him clutching the sheets, trembling, tears rolling down his cheeks, barely even able to stay conscious, he'd still talk shit and try to aggravate you. That carries into every day couple life too, just in a more minor way. He likes to play pranks on you, poke and prod you both literally and metaphorically. He's also almost definitely smart, I mean- Kisaki hates dumb people, and he hangs out with Hanma. That just means that Hanma will start the dumbest, prettiest arguments, and win purely by technicality. He's a total smartass. Of course, Hanma wouldn't say or do anything to actually hurt you, he's just be annoying and a nusience on purpose because he finds it entertaining to piss people off. It's alright, there's an easy fix. Just fuck hin so dumb he can't talk, so hard that he just passed out in your arms straight after.

Moral of the story, Hanma is a freaky little masochist, and the world's most annoying little asshole (affectionate)

~Neon

(Ajdksj no need to worry! I accept lurkers of all sorts — including lurkers who don't interact at all, and instead silently read my works <3

I do appreciate things like this too though, thank you! I love hearing y'all's thoughts and ideas!)

—

THIS is canon, as far as I'm concerned. He's such a painslut, it's not even funny. I definitely agree that Shuji will do his best to annoy you, that's just his favorite past time :P

I recently learned that getting punched in the gut (or just, in general) is a kink/fetish, so I think we can safely assume that Shuji would be into that too. I know that wrestling is also a sexual thing for some people. Just tossing that out there. Pin that tall boy in a painful position and hammer your cock into him, he'll love it!

Forget play fighting, he's the kind of guy who'd want to actually fight you until he's spitting up blood. Rasping a snarky remark even as his knuckles are busted, and his ribs ache from your heavy hits. Just normal couple things~

I also just thought about a "softer" moment: Cuddling with Shuji and pressing on the bruises you left on him. He winces as your thumb presses down on the large purple area on his arm, your other hand combing through his hair. This kind of pain is the kind that makes his whole body tremble, and he easily becomes addicted to it <3

[ii-neg-confessions]

So here's my thing... I don't hate II, I can't even say I dislike it. It's a fun show with fun characters... but as an author I know what a good plot looks like, and II just doesn't have that. Maybe that's fine depending on what you like. My biggest problem was all the hype around the finale... Don't get me wrong, the songs were very nice, especially the first one, and Cobs death scene was satisfying. But it just lacked something.

As a lover of hfjONE, I'm just going to use it to compare story writing skills. hfjONE spent every episode building up to the climax, each one was full of hints and Easter eggs, they weren't always obvious, but I can go back every time and pick up on new clues that were hidden within. Every episode was a layer that slowly built up to the finale. By the end, I was on the edge of my seat, because I was so invested. The theme and tone were consistent and the characters stayed in character, not going off the rails just for the sake of the plot. Everything fit perfectly into place, and that made the finale heart-wrenchingly beautiful.

With II, everything feels a bit hodge-podge. The tone shifts wildly from episode to episode, even from scene to scene, making it very difficult to take anything seriously, including the finale which was meant to have a more climactic, serious tone. The reveal of the world inside MePhone had zero build up, no layers, it was just kinda thrown in there for plot convenience. It feels like all the characters revolved around the plot, even to the point where they broke character just to fit the storyline. It's hard to take a finale seriously when there is no dimension. Instead of layers, the story is a bunch of individual dots connected with a squiggly line. No depth really.

Now this isn't to say II is a bad show. The characters are fun, and there are some very nice scenes. The world is fun and whimsical. I think it had a lot of potential. I simply don't think it lived up to that potential.

.

[phaedo]

watching nanowrimo defending ai blow up after years of abuse and mismanagement from nano hq is like watching every writer on the internet go "i can excuse rampant forum moderation abuse on two different websites but i draw the line at machine that helps you write"

[butchratchettruther]

The vibe I’m getting from the fandom rn