#everything in this game explodes and I'm all here for it

[toastedjeans]

Played Antonblast yesterday, got to the second boss, here's my first impressions

I love the animation and art style a lot! Very expressive. Gameplay and controls feel nice and smooth. I like the voice acting, it fits the characters well. The only thing that can get annoying is when Anton/Annie keep saying "Oh boy" or "Not good" when bumping into things or even when picking up big chips. But I'm sure there's an option somewhere to change this. Probably. I haven't checked yet lol

Music is pretty nice, i especially like It's Happy Hour and Boiler City. And one i can't remember the stage name of but it's that explosion cave.. casino? Thing? Anyway, it's cool. I also like that the bosses can't JUST be beaten by brute force, you need to figure out their patterns first. And it's cool that you aren't kicked out of the fight if you run out of health, the fight just starts over.

Level design is nice, but a few sections can be a bit frustrating *cough* Cinnamon Springs *cough*. But maybe that's just me, I'm not really good at this game. Haven't found any secrets yet except for one cassette tape, but maybe that's cause I'm still too used to pizza tower and trying to go fast. The escape sequences can get a bit frustrating, especially when you're not very good at the game yet. I don't know how many times I've had to retry it in the explosion casino level (still can't remember the name and I'm too lazy to look it up lol), but it was a LOT.

Not sure what that pig room in the lobby is supposed to be. Maybe the characters in it are playtesters or patreon backers? Not sure.

I like how you change between Anton and Annie by going to the bathroom. Idk why but i think it's kinda funny.

And the best feature of all. The scream button. Idk what its purpose is yet, except for screaming of course, or if there even is another purpose for it, but i love it. 10/10 would scream again.

[clair-de-lunar-tears]

not at all related to real life events

[bitegore]

baru cormorant seems to me to be a series that suffers miserably for me having read machineries of empire first. unfortunately everything BC is doing strikes me as something MoE did better and more believably and with much a greater and more grounded eye for how systems, complex system interaction, and oppression like. work

[melminli]

Pink Pony Club

summary - you weren't expecting much from your evening in a shitty bar, but then you saw a pretty woman sitting next to you.

pairing: cho hyun-ju x fem. reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: wlw, angst w/ comfort, fluff, a bit transphobia, pre squid game au

a/n: hyun-ju was my fav this season and i literally love her so much - she deserves the world and more😔💕

the request.

You looked bored at your drink while you caressed its round surface with your index finger. Your friends had finally managed to drag you to one of their favorite bars and, you didn't really enjoy being here, as you had expected since it was pretty, well - straight.

You were fine with it at first, when you all sat down at a table and just talked and laughed together. However, after a while a group of men sat down at your table - with everyone's permission, of course, but you still weren't the biggest fan of that decision. The only reason you didn't mind was that your friends seemed to be having a genuinely good time with the guys and that they weren't too bad. You still excused yourself from the table after a while, because one of them wouldn't stop subtly flirting with you even when did not hide your lack of interest. Sitting lonely at the bar counter wasn't too bad, you guessed.

I'll just finish my drink and then leave. You thought to yourself, still bored, and glanced subtly at the woman next to you after noticing how she seemed to be moving around quite nervously for a while. “Hey, are you alright?” you whispered to her in a soft voice after you moved closer to her side.

She returned your gaze slightly surprised and seemed to try to make herself even smaller after your attention was focused on her. “Ah, yes everything is fine. there is nothing to worry about…”

A few guys a little further away from you suddenly started to cackle ugly after she finished talking and you didn't miss how the woman next to you turned her eyes back to the counter - obviously feeling uncomfortable by what they were saying.

“Did you hear that voice? It's even deeper than yours!” he said to his friend, who only agreed with a shocked look on his face as he pointed his hand in your direction. “Come on man, that's not fair! Have you even seen how rugged that dude is? I mean you do realize that's not a real - you know…”

You took an annoyed breath as you looked across the room and bit your tongue to keep you from spitting in their hideous faces. Though, it was pretty hard to restrain yourself since you really wanted to. "Assholes.” you just uttered while staring at their heads with a hateful look, imagining them exploding.

“Just ignore them…” said the woman next to you with a gentle voice after noticing your reaction. “What they say doesn't bother me anyway.”

And even though she said that you knew it did because it always did. You returned your attention back to her and introduced yourself to her after taking the last sip of your drink. “And what's your name, pretty?”

She seemed to be caught off guard a little when she heard you say that. “Oh, ehm…” she stumbled a little over her words. “It's ehm Hyun-ju. My name is Hyun-ju.”

You smiled. “Pretty like you. It suits you.” you complimented her and noticed how the weird guys from the corner were still watching you. “Hey, do you want to get out of here?” you asked and were glad when she nodded. “Well, come with me, I know a good spot,” you told her and took her hand in yours.

You gently pulled her off the chair with you and led her out of the stuffy bar, feeling like you could breathe again when your nose met the fresh air. “I was really close to beating those guys up,” you told her as you walked hand in hand with her. Hyun-ju giggled lightly, as if it was hard for her to imagine you doing something like that. You looked at her in disbelief. “What, you don't believe me? I'm totally serious, really!”

She tried to hide her smile, but barely managed it. “No, I believe you.” she replied, but you weren't really convinced by her answer. You just hummed when you finally noticed the store. ��Look there! I hope you're hungry, because this place makes the best japchea.” you told her happily while holding the door open for her because a long time had passed since you last went to this little restaurant.

Luckily, there weren't many people here at this time of day, so you managed to get a good seat for two. “Sorry, I didn't even ask if you wanted to eat japchea. They also have lots of other things if you want, my treat.” you winked at her and Hyun-ju noticed how you cuddled your hands against your cheeks, as if they were still warm from the alcohol.

“Thank you, but japchea is fine. I will trust your recommendation,” she replied shyly and watched as you shouted your order with two fingers in the air to the chef, who gave you an all-clear with his thumb. “They don't have a waiter here, so…” you explained, automatically putting your hand back on hers without really noticing.

Well, you didn't until Hyun-ju's eyes turned to it and it was only then that you realized you were probably being a little too handsy. “Oh, I'm sorry about that.” you quickly apologized when you quickly pulled your hand back. “I really didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, you're probably not even into other women?” you let the question hang in the air, while you simultaneously cursed yourself for even asking that.

Hyun-ju blinked slightly in surprise while she played nervously with her hair. You knew at that moment that you had fucked up and prevented yourself from showing your disappointment. Unknown to you, she was thinking about something entirely else right now. So she was flirting with me the whole time? I didn't even realize, how embarrassing. “Are…are you?” she asked tensely, almost slapping her hand over her face at her stupid question. Of course she is, she just said it.

You laughed lightly with one eyebrow raised. “Do I like women? Hell yeah.” you just said, finding it a little funny how she acted right now. cute.

Hyun-ju was used to attracting the attention of girls before starting her transition. She even had a few relationships with them and liked it, but dating was one of the many things that became more than just difficult for her after she officially came out. “I'm a trans woman,” she finally said, even though she knew that you knew.

You just leaned forward with a grin. She hadn't turned you down, that's all you cared about. “I know,” you said, watching how she shyly avoided your gaze while crossing her arms in front of her. “You don't have to hide. I meant it when i said that you're very pretty.”

Hyun-ju slowly met your gaze and this time it was her who initiated physical contact with you. She held your hand softly. “I think you're really pretty too,” she said, and at that moment, you were both pretty glad that you went to that shitty bar today, even if you'd never go there again.

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

OK Guys. I get the skepticism esp after the Knuckles disaster, but we also need to keep in mind "this is a trailer that won't spoil literally everything about the movie." ESPECIALLY in regards to GUN. They're not gonna put in the trailer "the military shot a little girl and that's why Shadow is mad so Sonic is going to never work with them ever." That's a great way to get parents to bring their kids to the theater, especially in America. (/s)

It's WAY more effective as a plot twist halfway through, where Sonic thinks that he's finally being accepted onto Earth via working with the government only to find out that they're exploiting him and Shadow the same. I can't guarantee this is gonna happen obviously but it's like a 90% chance just knowing how, like. writing works.

Esp considering the government has not had a good track record in the last two movies, I dunno if they'd do a heel-face turn into "actually they were always right" in the movie where a little girl needs to get shot by the government.

And I'm not gonna say "trust and form a parasocial relationship with a film director" but we should keep in mind that Jeff Fowler got his start working on Shadow's title game and has stated in interviews that he understands how important Shadow's backstory is to his character. Not to mention how the internet has been exploding the last two years with enthusiasm over this story actually getting shown onscreen, enough that a studio would fucking notice at the very least that this is what the people want. I can't guarantee they'll actually listen, but saying that they're absolutely not because "Sonic was in a GUN helicopter in the trailer" is insane. Especially with the fact that GUN is not with Sonic when he goes to Eggman. We just see Team Sonic alone meeting with Stone, and I will bet you it's because there's no way in hell GUN would let them near him, what with the Robotnik connections to the ARK.

Also the Gerald thing is rather worrying, esp with the lack of shit they gave Pachacamac in the miniseries, but honestly I think that was just a marketing push of "Jim Carrey will be playing TWO characters!!!" Considering he's only seen in one trailer scene AT the ARK (where all of Gerald's technology was and, more importantly, where the Eclipse cannon he needs someone to set off is) AND we know from movie 2's credits scene that there was a fifty-year timeskip, I severely doubt that's the real Gerald who's just completely unaffected by his granddaughter being murdered.

And ofc there's things to be concerned about in the trailer. The lack of Rouge for instance– I obviously keep posting my theory that Krysten Ritter's character will be her undercover but the fact we don't know how much time she'd actually have with Shadow, if at ALL, is worrying. The fact that Rouge might not be here period. The weird pacing of the Knuckles show and the fear that could bleed over into the movie. But there's also stuff to get excited about– the epic fight scene choreography, the brief glimpse we got of Maria and Shadow's bond. Reeves's voice actually fits Shadow and at least from what the trailer showed us it looks like the Green Hills storyline is taking a backseat to the action and mystery of Project Shadow.

tl;dr guys calm down for like five minutes. if the movie sucks in december we can riot then. right now let's just band together against mufasa

[rafesbabygirlx]

JJ having a couple years long crush on kook princess reader and gets super flustered when out of nowhere reader starts flirting with him every chance she gets

I'm talking gobsmacked JJ losing all his game and blushing super hard at reader, stammering and everything (even if all his friends were there watching) and reader just finds it adorable so she keeps finding ways to fluster him and see how much she can get away with before his brain explodes ahahah

Hiiiii omg flustered JJ 🥹🤭

𝚓𝚓 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚡 𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚗𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

You always noticed the way he looked at you when he thought no one was paying attention—like he was trying to figure out how someone like you, a Kook princess through and through, had ended up orbiting the same world as him. He always kept his cool, flashing that signature smirk and tossing out some cocky remark whenever you caught him staring. But you wanted to see what would happen if you flipped the script.

It started small. A playful touch here, a lingering glance there. A teasing remark about how good he looked with his shirt off after a long day on the water. The first time you did it, he choked on his beer so hard Pope had to slap him on the back. You’d only barely brushed your fingers against his arm and murmured, “Damn, Maybank, didn’t know you had that kind of muscle on you.”

From that moment on, it became a game.

JJ Maybank—the most confident, flirtatious, smooth-talking Pogues of them all—was utterly useless against you.

He tried to keep up at first. He really did. He’d throw out a flirt of his own, something meant to get you blushing, but the second you doubled down—tilting your head, biting your lip just enough to send his brain short-circuiting—he was done for. His usual cocky demeanor crumbled in real time, replaced by wide eyes, red cheeks, and stammered nonsense that had the rest of the Pogues howling with laughter.

“Dude, you’re embarrassing us,” John B teased after you had leaned in just a little too close, dragging a finger down JJ’s chest under the pretense of dusting off some sand.

“Shut up,” JJ muttered, glaring at John B before whipping back to face you. “You—” He pointed accusingly at you, as if trying to form a coherent thought, but whatever he was going to say died before it left his lips because you just smirked at him.

“What about me, J?” you asked, tilting your head innocently.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

Nothing.

You grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

It only got worse from there.

You brushed against him unnecessarily when squeezing past him on the boat to get off The Wreck's dock. You played with the hem of his shirt and told him how soft it was—while he was wearing it. You leaned in just a little too close whenever he was talking, acting like you could barely hear him when in reality you just liked watching him lose his train of thought every time he got a whiff of your perfume.

And the best part? He was so obvious about how much it wrecked him. His ears turned pink. His hands fidgeted. He ran a hand through his hair so much you thought he might rip it out. He couldn’t even look you in the eye half the time.

“You’re gonna kill him,” Kiara muttered to you after JJ nearly walked straight into a post at The Wreck because he’d been too distracted watching you lick salt off the rim of your margarita glass.

“I know,” you mused, barely holding back a laugh. “But it’s just so easy.”

That was the thing about JJ. He was smooth with girls—other girls. The moment it came to you, it was like his brain fried on the spot. And you weren’t about to let up anytime soon.

Not when it was this much fun.

just realized I didnt tag anyone :,)

tags + some moots 💗

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @maybankslover @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @percysley @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @akobx @jjmaybankmylovee @slurpdew @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @littlelamy @nemesyaaa @inthelibrarybtw @frankoceanluvr11 @writingroom21 @v3n1ce-bxtch

[21280]

SECOND DATE UPDATE!

izuku midoriya got ghosted by you after the first date! so, he turns to mic's radio show segment in an act of desperation to know what happened... fem reader (pronoun only used once), y/n had mic as a homeroom teacher before. post war.

midoriya is incredibly nervous as he stands by on the other line as mic's cheery voice blasts through his ear and through the radios of thousands, mic's words sounding incoherent as his mind races on the possible outcomes. though, he's sure there's only one.

he's going to be absolutely humiliated.

"so midoriya here had a nice at home date with a person named y/n, and according to him, everything was super fun! when he asked for a second date, he's been hit with nothing but excuses! so he’s waiting here in the other line while we ring up his date…"

riiiing.

it's an unknown number. you shrug, choosing to answer the call.

"hello?"

"hey hey hey! is this y/n?"

you recognize the voice coming from your speaker, your lips curling into a smile. "is this mr. yamada? oh my, yes this is she! it's been a while."

you can hear him chuckle, "how're ya doing, kiddo? i've seen you pop up on my newsfeed the other day—but we're here on official biz. i'm calling from put your hands up radio because there's this listener of ours that you went on a date with..."

"oh shoot" you say, "um, who is it?"

"do you remember going out with midoriya?"

oh god no, you think. your mind suddenly becomes flooded with images and memories of the past week, where you spent a few hours over at midoriya’s apartment. what was the purpose of all this—did he spill the beans to your homeroom teacher?

you sigh as you shake your head, "yes, i do remember him."

"that sigh tells me it wasn't a good date, now, was it?" mic asks, his curiosity is evident. "wanna tell me what he did wrong?"

you awkwardly chuckle, "midoriya's a really good guy, i swear!"

"but you've been blowin him off ever since your date! i've seen you on the papers, but are you reaaally busy or is that just a load of cap?" mic pressures, and you can only imagine his eyebrow raised in confusion.

"i did? my bad, i've been real busy with the agency i haven't had the time to reply to anyone.."

there's a few seconds of silence, before mic speaks up. "producer here told me you posted on your socials a few hours ago, so unless you have a team who posts selfies of you buying tea, you've been on your phone, my dear y/n" he laughs, "now spill. what happened with midoriya?"

"well, we had a nice dinner at his house, and we played some board games and watched three all might documentaries."

mic scoffs and laughs, “that does sound like a midoriya, alright. but hey—that seems like a nice date—what happened?”

you were unsure of whether or not you wanted to speak up, but decided to do so. “he just wouldn’t stop talking about all might! and, i know he’s his father figure or something but come on! even during dinner he kept mentioning how all might liked cedar from yakushima so he got a cedar scented candle because of that. we played all might themed board games. geez—even when i went to the bathroom he had an all might towel and soap dispenser. i damn nearly fell asleep during the second documentary and he shook me awake because i was missing the best part of it.”

by now, mic is exploding in laughter, the faint sound of his fist banging the table being heard. there’s a couple giggles heard in the background too, from his producer and other guests present.

“oh my god i didn’t know.”

your eyes widen in shock as you realize who the voice belonged to. mic clears his throat, “so, midoriya’s on the other line because he wanted to speak to you and know what he did wrong, and also to ask for a second date! surprise!”

you nearly choke on your spit as you hear his voice through your phone’s speaker. “i really didn’t know you didn’t like all might, but i mean you should’ve said something! we watched the top three documentaries!”

“did you ask me if i wanted to watch three documentaries about all might, midoriya?”

“you’re right—i’m so sorry” midoriya apologizes, and it seems genuine. you know he’s the type of guy to be oblivious at times, so you give him the benefit of the doubt.

“is there any way i can make it up to you? a dinner at a restaurant, a trip, we can even watch documentaries of your favorite hero in return! i really like you, y/n, and i would like another chance.”

you can’t stop your heart from beating quicker when those words left his mouth. he’s a lover boy through and through, and he’s truly devoted to what he likes.

“edgeshot. i want an edgeshot interview compilation marathon.”

you can practically hear midoriya smile, “okay, great! i actually know a lot about him, did you know that during the war he—“

“oookay! looks like it’s all settled” mic chuckles, “i think it’s the first time we’ve had a second date update success!”

[lightweaver-chosen-if]

Happy New Year!

So, I definitely missed the deadline I set for myself, and I'm really sorry!

Here's what's been going on the past few months. Ever since I discovered zero drafting (circa November 2024) I've been experimenting with it. While I’ve added a solid 50k words, there was no way I was going to publish it as it was...

Unless you want to read:

mc do circular movements with arms, lightning efx… then WOOSH they hit a tree and it fucking explodes

I've spent a lot of time lately turning all that into actual sentences and paragraphs. The fact that I really doubled down on making most of the text dynamic also slowed things down. I know people probably only read these games once, but I can't help it!

Writing and coding is hard. I really admire authors who consistently drop huge updates so fast 😫

Right now, I'm still only 70%~ finished with the new content, but since it's been too long, I'll be splitting it.

But for those curious, here's a quick rundown of the new stuff written:

A mini training scene with your chosen RO, where you can learn a move to impress your mentor with (and where a tree fucking explodes).

A 7-day training arc with a strict temporary mentor in preparation for the assessment, ending with a sparring match.

Encounters with the ROs, where you’ll start to learn more about them (sprinkled throughout the story; before, during, and after training).

The omitted content for now is the 7-day training arc and the last RO encounters before the actual assessment. If everything goes well, I might update again this month!

This year, I'm feeling very determined to focus on the game and hopefully finish it (or get close enough). I'm also planning to open a Patreon for regular sneak peeks & dev updates, early access, and some bonus content (little pieces I wrote lately to unwind) for those interested. This is all very new to me, so I'm just testing the waters!

I'll be back on January 15 with the update. For real this time!

For now, here are some sneak peeks!

Thank you for being patient! <3

[dotcie]

MDNI | simon 'ghost' riley x afab!reader | no use of y/n, no mention of name, weight, hair style, or skin colour | use of nickname "dove" | ghost fucks you on shepherds desk. that‘s it.

The scream that climbs out of your lungs dies unaired, against rough skin, and the world explodes into motion.

You bite down on the bare palm covering your mouth, elbows digging into the body that traps you in place. Feet shuffle, and before you can even get your bearings enough to tap into your training to fight back, you're dragged into the closest room.

The door is pulled shut behind you, latching with a quiet little click, and you're spun around to face your opponent—back slamming against the slab of wood blocking your freedom. It takes you more seconds of struggling to recognise that the hand over your mouth is accompanied by familiar tattoos and that the man in front of you is, indeed, Simon.

"Don't scream," he says, all casual and loose.

His lips quirk with an utterly devilish smirk once he lets go of you, and your clenched fists crash down onto his chest immediately; trying to push him away, to make it hurt. You shove at him, aim for his face, but he doesn't yield—just grabs your wrists mid air like it's nothing.

"You fuck—fucking psychopath!" you spit, pulling and puffing in his tight grip, but he doesn't let go.

"Hey, hey—" Simon begins instead, voice growing softer, but he's laughing, and the sound of it is laced with a gravity that draws an ache into the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

"Let go of me!"

He slightly tilts his head as he stares down on you, gaze raking over your face as if he is searching for something—how serious you are, maybe. An indicator of how upset you are, perhaps. His eyes linger on the slight frown curving the corners of your lips and the anger in your eyes. You stare back fiercely, heart caught in your throat.

"Sorry," he says, the shadow of a grin ghosting over his lips as he finally lets go of you.

"I'm going to kill you," you snarl back, palming your wrist.

"Y'wouldn't be the first to try, dove."

He says it in that same monotone manner he always does, and you heave a deep sigh, tipping your head back against the door for an agonizing beat—as though you're horribly exhausted by this little game of his.

Yet, he seems unmoved, his eyes unreadable. You've gritted your teeth for years at his silence, just to now drag it on out of spite.

You let your eyes roam through the dark room you've been dragged into. Ceiling-high bookshelves, expensive leather chairs, and a solid wood desk fill the room. There's no question that this must be Shepherd's office, and you swallow the question of how Simon managed to get in here. When you shake your head at him in silence disapproval instead, he blinks back at you unmoved.

It's the first time you get a good look at him since you left him in Brixton. He's in a plain, dark blue uniform, a row of medals clinging to the left side of his left chest. It's been a while since you've seen him in formal attire, and your eyes linger a little bit too long on his broad frame before they move up and take in his scarred face. The jaw you know, the crooked nose, the dark eyes that often carry a brutal, pale expression—now looking down on you soft and open.

"No mask, huh?" You hate how the words come out low and peeved, an exhale that flutters like a leaf carried adrift by strong winds.

"They said it'd be unbecoming to the other guests."

You laugh, just a breath, and your face crumples into a hundred shades of grief with it. The way his voice folds gently around your name immediately makes everything much worse.

"Look, y'told me not to contact you, and I didn't, alright, but we're both here and—shite, I dunno. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe—"

"How much have you been drinking?"

"Lost count. It's Johnny's fault, really—you look stunning, have I told you yet?"

"You did." — "Good."

You freeze as he steps closer, but you don't pull away. Simon lets his touch linger, slowly skimming his fingertips over your jaw. He catches the way your breath quickens, and how your gaze flickers to his lips. You swallow hard, trying to breathe past the sudden thundering of your heart against your ribs. The flare of heat that sears through your veins is a warning, and the familiar longing cleaving you in two is just as sharp and unforgiving. You make an annoyed face at him for it, wanting to claw at his face and rip his clothes off at the same time.

"Let me kiss you," he murmurs, touching you like it's a question.

Your heart is in the back of your throat. Although you try to swallow it, your voice comes out as little more than a whisper. "Simon, I—"

He moves anyway, bridges the gap between you, and your hands move to his chest. Your breath catches and tangles up in your ribs, like it's the first time you've ever been here, the first time he's looking at you with this intensity that's palpable, that's alive and tangible and real.

Your hands on his chest curl into fists. "C'mon, don't do this, we talked about—"

He doesn't let you finish, kissing the words right out of your mouth.

Simon pours all his feelings— every drop of love he holds for you in his heart, every last fraying thread of longing, everything—into the kiss. You tremble under the warmth of his lips, cursing yourself for giving in, for meeting him here alone. You're not a good person—you are a terrible person, and you're not going to stop, because now Simon is sucking in your bottom lip, and inching his hands up your thighs, up over your hips, palming your ass, and it feels good and it is terrible and he wants you just like this, and you—

Simon picks you up by the thighs, and there's no room in your head to protest; you wrap your arms and legs around him instead, deepening the kiss like you're starved for it. He crosses the room effortlessly, kicking a chair out of the way with his foot with a screech, before setting you down on the cool surface of Shepherd's desk.

[read more]

[fayelero]

— WILDFLOWER ! timeskip!atsumu

➥ pr : timeskip!atsumu x famous!fem!reader

➥ syn : after a tough argument with your boyfriend, you got in a car accident…

➥ wc : 3.1k

➥ tw : tough argument, car accident, injured reader, angst to comfort, crying reader, y/n employed a lil.

➥ a/n : trauma era ! (it’s weird I’ll stop)

The lights of Shibuya sparkled like they always did—a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of neon advertisements flashing bright against the obsidian night sky, painting the urban landscape in vibrant, electric hues of pink, cerulean, and electric blue. Massive screens flickered with advertisements, music videos, and breaking news, casting their ever-changing glow across the bustling streets below. But high above the cacophony of the city, inside the sleek, minimalist luxury penthouse that had once been their sanctuary, the air was thick with a different kind of electricity—raw, crackling tension that threatened to consume everything in its path.

The once warm and welcoming space now felt cold, almost suffocating. Gone were the soft throw pillows carefully arranged by interior designers, the artful photography capturing moments of their shared past, the subtle scent of sandalwood that typically permeated the air. Now, there was only silence punctuated by ragged breathing and the distant hum of Tokyo's nightlife.

Atsumu stood by the kitchen counter, a study in controlled fury. His muscular frame was tense, arms crossed over his chest, revealing the definition of years of professional volleyball training. His brow was furrowed, a familiar competitive edge that usually served him on the court now turned inward, sharp and dangerous. His blonde hair, usually meticulously styled, was slightly disheveled—a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil brewing inside him.

You were on the opposite side of the room, pacing back and forth. Your designer heels—Louboutins, a gift from a recent magazine shoot—clacked against the pristine marble floor in a staccato rhythm that matched the racing of your heart. Each step was a statement, a declaration of your growing frustration.

The penthouse, situated in one of Shibuya's most exclusive high-rises, had always been a symbol of your collective success. But tonight, it felt more like a pressure cooker, ready to explode under the weight of unspoken resentments and mounting professional tensions.

"I'm so sick of this, Atsumu!" you screamed, your voice a complex mixture of rage and profound hurt. Tears streamed down your face, tracing perfect lines through your meticulously applied makeup. Your hands, adorned with delicate rings from your latest endorsement deals, gestured wildly, punctuating each word with raw emotion. "You're never here! Never! And when you are, all we do is fight. I've spent the last five years supporting you, loving you, waiting for you—while I'm out there building my own damn career!"

The vulnerability beneath your anger was palpable. These weren't just the words of a frustrated partner, but of someone who had consistently placed another's dreams ahead of their own, only to feel increasingly marginalized and forgotten.

Atsumu's response was immediate, defensive—a reflex honed from years of facing down opponents on the volleyball court. "And what? You expect me to just drop everything?!" His voice was louder than you'd ever heard it before, a mixture of Osaka dialect and raw emotion. "You think bein' a professional volleyball player is just fun and games? That it doesn't take everythin' I have to stay at the top?"

His words were defensive, but underneath lay a deep-seated insecurity. The volleyball world was unforgiving, with careers that could end in an instant. Every moment not training, not preparing, felt like a potential threat to everything he had worked for.

"That's not what I'm saying!" you yelled back, your voice cracking with a complexity of emotions. As you wiped furiously at your cheeks, the carefully constructed persona of the confident model and actress momentarily dissolved, revealing the deeply wounded individual beneath. "But it's like I don't exist to you anymore, Atsumu! It's like I'm just a damn afterthought!"

You paused, inhaling sharply, gathering the last reserves of your emotional ammunition. When you spoke again, your words were calculated, designed to wound. "You know what? Maybe you love volleyball more than you ever loved me."

The silence that followed was deafening.

The sting in your words was palpable—a razor-sharp blade that cut through the carefully constructed facade of their relationship. In Atsumu's eyes, you could see a storm brewing. His pupils dilated, the golden-brown irises darkening with a mixture of hurt, anger, and something deeper—a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show.

His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching near his temple—a tell-tale sign of his rising frustration. The fists at his sides tightened, knuckles turning white, betraying the athletic control he typically maintained with such precision. Years of professional volleyball had taught him to channel emotions, to convert raw feeling into explosive physical energy. But here, in the intimate battlefield of their home, those skills failed him completely.

"Don't even start with that crap," he spat, his voice dripping with venom that was more pain than malice. The Osaka dialect grew thicker, a subconscious retreat into his most authentic self—the version of Atsumu that existed before the fame, before the pressure, before the constant performance of being a professional athlete. "You're the one out there posin' half-naked for the world to see! You don't even care about what that does to me, do ya? Every single time I see your face plastered all over those magazines, I'm reminded of how everyone else gets to see what's supposed to be mine!"

The words hung in the air, loaded with possessiveness, insecurity, and a deep-seated fear of loss.

You froze, his words slicing through you like a knife. The transformation was immediate—from emotional vulnerability to razor-sharp defensive mode. "Excuse me?" you said, voice dangerously low, each syllable carefully enunciated. The model's training kicked in—controlled, precise, devastating. "What's supposed to be yours? Atsumu, I'm not some possession you can just claim. I've worked my ass off to get where I am. And if you can't handle my success, that's on you—not me."

Your career hadn't been a gift. It had been a battlefield of its own—endless castings, brutal rejections, critical eyes dissecting every inch of your appearance, your talent, your worth. Each magazine cover, each commercial, each film role had been hard-won, purchased with countless sleepless nights and moments of self-doubt.

"Oh, so now I'm the bad guy?" he shot back, his voice heavy with sarcasm that barely concealed his hurt. "Yeah, sure. Poor you. The perfect little model and actress who gets everything handed to her on a silver platter. Do ya even realize how lucky you are?"

The accusation hung between them—a gross oversimplification of a complex journey.

Your mouth fell open, shock mixing with the anger that burned in your chest like an uncontrollable wildfire. "Lucky?" you repeated, the word dripping with disbelief and mounting fury. You took a step closer to him, closing the physical distance between you, your presence electric and challenging. "You think my career is easy? That I haven't sacrificed just as much as you have?"

The vulnerability returned, raw and unfiltered. "You have no idea what it's like to have your entire life picked apart by strangers, to have people constantly criticize you, to feel like you're never enough no matter how hard you try!"

In that moment, the fight transformed. It was no longer just about time, or absence, or professional demands. It was about two individuals drowning in the expectations of their careers, of society, of each other—desperately trying to maintain their individual identities while simultaneously trying to maintain a relationship.

The room fell silent, heavy with unsaid things. The city continued its relentless pulse outside, indifferent to the emotional storm raging within the penthouse. Neon lights continued to dance across the windows, a stark contrast to the stillness inside.

"I can't do this anymore," you whispered, the fight suddenly draining out of you. Your voice was soft, but filled with a finality that seemed to reverberate through the entire space. Shaking your head, you grabbed your designer handbag—a Chanel piece that had been a hard-earned gift by Atsumu after a particularly challenging campaign.

"Where the hell do ya think you're goin'?" Atsumu barked, his voice rising again, a last-ditch attempt to maintain control of a situation rapidly slipping away.

"Anywhere but here," you snapped, your hand already reaching for the Porsche keys in the decorative bowl by the door. The keys clinked against each other, a metallic punctuation to your decision. "I can't even stand to look at you right now."

Before he could respond—before he could plead, argue, or attempt to reconcile—you slammed the door. The sound reverberated through the penthouse, a final, definitive statement that seemed to echo the fracturing of something once believed to be unbreakable.

—

Travis Scott's "SICKO MODE" blasted at maximum volume, the bass so loud it seemed to vibrate through your very bones. The irony wasn't lost on you—a song about chaos and intensity perfectly matching the emotional storm raging inside your mind. The lyrics seemed to mock your pain, each beat a punctuation to your spiraling thoughts.

The words rang out, and you laughed—a broken, hysterical sound that was more sob than anything else.

"I'm so fucking useless," you whispered to yourself, the words barely audible over the thundering music. Tears streamed down your face, cutting perfect lines through your carefully applied makeup. "Nobody could ever really love me. Not Atsumu. Not anyone."

The streets of Tokyo blurred past, your Porsche cutting through the night like a silver blade of desperation. Every word from the fight replayed in your mind with merciless precision. Atsumu's accusations echoed like razor-sharp whispers, each one cutting deeper than the last.

"You don't even care about me anymore," his voice rang in your ears. "You'd rather show off for strangers than even try to make this work."

The music swelled, Travis Scott's voice a backdrop to your internal breakdown.

"I'm nothing," you muttered, your grip on the steering wheel so tight your knuckles turned white. "Just a pretty face. Just something to look at. Never enough to be truly loved." The words were a mantra of self-destruction, each one landing like a physical blow.

Your mind was a tempest of emotions—guilt, rage, self-hatred swirling together in a hurricane of pain. The city lights streaked past like watercolor brushstrokes, Tokyo's infamous neon landscape becoming an impressionistic canvas of blues, pinks, and electric whites.

You pushed the Porsche faster, as if speed could outrun the pain, could silence the voices in your head. The powerful engine roared beneath you, a mechanical beast responding to your emotional turmoil. At 180 kilometers per hour, the world outside became an indistinct smear, much like your sense of self—undefined, chaotic, on the verge of complete disintegration.

The irony of the lyrics wasn't lost on you. Ideas of worthlessness, of being unlovable, of being nothing more than a commodity—they filled your mind completely.

The intersection approached—a critical point of convergence that would change everything in a heartbeat.

The sharp, piercing sound of a car horn sliced through the music. A moment of stark clarity emerged, milliseconds stretching into an eternity. Your head turned, eyes widening as massive headlights barreled toward you, bright and unforgiving.

Travis Scott's voice was the last thing you heard.

The impact was sudden. Violent. Apocalyptic.

Metal screamed against metal, a cacophonous symphony of destruction that mixed with the final echoes of the song. Your Porsche—a machine engineered for precision and speed—was reduced to a crumpled sculpture of twisted metal and shattered dreams. The collision flung the car across the intersection with a force that defied physics, spinning and tumbling like a discarded thought.

And then, silence.

Smoke billowed from the crumpled hood, rising like a spectral mourner above the wreckage. The music cut off abruptly, leaving behind a ringing silence that seemed to echo your final, unspoken thoughts.

"Atsu…," you whispered, as darkness began to creep in.

The city continued its relentless pulse, indifferent to the personal tragedy that had just unfolded on its streets. Neon lights flickered, a final, distant reminder of a life that now seemed impossibly far away.

—

The phone's shrill ring cut through the silence of the penthouse. Atsumu, still frozen in the aftermath of your departure, instinctively reached for his mobile. The caller ID displayed the hospital's number—a sight that immediately sent a jolt of adrenaline through his system.

"Hello?," he answered, his voice raw from their earlier argument.

The words that followed would forever divide his life into two distinct periods: before and after this moment.

"Sakusa Kei Memorial Hospital," the voice said. "We're calling about a patient involved in a severe traffic collision. Are you the emergency contact for y/n?"

Time seemed to stop.

The next hours passed in a blur of sterile white corridors, the acrid smell of disinfectant, and the constant beeping of medical equipment. Atsumu's athletic composure—usually so precise, so controlled—completely dissolved. His hands shook as he filled out medical forms, his usually confident Osaka dialect reduced to fragmented, desperate whispers.

The hospital room was quieter than Atsumu had expected, save for the soft hum of machines monitoring your vitals. The sterile scent of disinfectant lingered in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of his fear as he stepped inside. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, lying amidst a sea of white linens and medical equipment. The sight nearly brought him to his knees.

Your body looked so small, so fragile against the stark hospital bed. Bruises bloomed across your exposed skin like shadows of the argument that had led you here. A cast encased your left leg, another your arm, and your face was marred with small cuts and swelling that no makeup could disguise. But your eyes—their familiar light dimmed but not extinguished—opened slowly at the sound of his approach.

“Atsumu,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, a fragile thread that tugged at his heart.

He froze mid-step, his athletic frame tense, as though moving too quickly might shatter what little remained of you. Tears, warm and unwelcome, blurred his vision as he stumbled forward, his legs carrying him to your side.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. His hand hovered over yours, afraid to touch, afraid of breaking you further. “God, I’m so sorry, darlin’. This is all my fault.”

You blinked slowly, the exhaustion from the accident and the aftermath evident in every line of your body. For a moment, you said nothing, letting his words settle into the quiet. Then, with more strength than he thought you could muster, you managed, “Don’t… do that.”

Atsumu’s brows furrowed in confusion, guilt momentarily eclipsed by the sharpness of your tone, fragile though it was. “Do what?” he asked softly, his voice a broken echo of its usual bravado.

“Don’t you dare make this about you,” you replied, your voice gaining a sliver of its familiar fire. “This isn’t your fault, Atsumu. I was the one driving. I was the one who left.”

The tears he had tried so hard to control now fell freely, streaking down his face as he shook his head vehemently. “But ya wouldn’t have been drivin’ like that if it weren’t for me,” he countered, his Osaka dialect thick with emotion. “If I hadn’t been such an idiot—if I hadn’t said those awful things—ya wouldn’t have been out there at all.”

You exhaled slowly, the weight of his guilt palpable in the room. “And if I’d listened to you instead of trying to win the argument… maybe I wouldn’t have stormed out,” you admitted, your tone soft but unwavering. “We were both wrong, Atsumu. Both of us.”

The admission seemed to strike him harder than any spike he’d ever taken on the court. For a moment, he simply stood there, staring at you as though you were some ethereal being he’d never quite been worthy of. Then, with a quiet exhale, he sank into the chair beside your bed, his head dropping into his hands.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he muttered, his voice muffled but no less raw. “I thought I lost ya. When they called me and said you’d been in a crash…” His voice cracked, and he lifted his head, his golden-brown eyes now rimmed red with unshed tears. “I’ve never been that scared in my life.”

You reached for him, wincing as your arm protested the movement. Despite the pain, you managed to place your uninjured hand over his. The contact was light, hesitant, but it was enough to anchor both of you. “I’m here, Atsumu,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the ache in your body. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, as though he was fighting against every emotion threatening to spill out. Slowly, his hand turned under yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a gesture that was both tender and desperate. “I’ve been such a damn fool,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on your intertwined hands. “I’ve been so caught up in everythin’—the games, the pressure, provin’ myself—that I forgot… I forgot what really matters.”

Your chest tightened at the vulnerability in his voice, at the sight of the man you loved stripped down to his very core. “You matter to me, Atsumu,” you said, your tone firm despite the weakness in your body. “But I need to matter to you, too. Not as an afterthought. Not as something you’ll get to when volleyball isn’t in the way.”

He nodded slowly, his grip on your hand tightening as though he was afraid to let go. “You do,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “You matter more than anythin’. More than volleyball, more than any championship, more than everythin’ I’ve ever worked for. I just… I didn’t know how to show ya that without feelin’ like I was givin’ somethin’ up. But I see it now. I see you now.”

A single tear escaped down your cheek, and you squeezed his hand gently. “Then show me, Atsumu,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of everything left unsaid. “Be here with me. Don’t just tell me—show me.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy but not oppressive, a quiet understanding passing between you as the city lights outside cast shifting patterns on the walls. Finally, Atsumu leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your knuckles—a gesture so soft, so reverent, that it nearly undid you.

“I will,” he promised, his lips brushing against your skin with each word. “I’ll show ya. Every day, every damn moment. I’m gonna make this right, darlin’. I swear it.”

The weight of his words settled into your chest, warm and grounding.

The hospital room was still, the hum of machines and the distant sounds of the city your only company. But in that stillness, amidst the aftermath of chaos and pain, the first fragile threads of healing began to weave themselves through the fractures of your relationship.

For the first time in a long time, you believed him.

Ⓒkiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[hoshinasblade]

Can I hear your thoughts on calling Soshiro the wrong name? Like when I first got into the kn8 fandom, I could never get Soshiro's name right. It's always "Seishiro" as in Nagi Seishiro from Blue Lock 💔. I wonder what his reaction would be to hear his partner calling him a diff guy's name 🤔

this ask has the potential to cause so much mayhem anon, thank you for sending through

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader content warnings: none, just a bit suggestive at the end, established relationship this is super short, but hopefully you like it! my ask is open again for requests but be warned that replies will be delayed. it takes time for me to write, and if i dont immediately vibe with the prompt, that makes it harder for me. i will always reply though because there is not a lot of hoshina stuff around here and i value people's ideas. thank you guys for understanding!

being hoshina soshiro's girlfriend has a lot of perks.

first of all, you had never felt safer anywhere you go when he is accompanying you - it's not that you treat him as your personal body guard, but he cannot help to act like one, always on the lookout to protect you. more than everything, nothing beats knowing the simple fact that you are dating an ultra-handsome killing machine who treats you like a princess.

the thing is, being hoshina soshiro's girlfriend also has some downside.

the worst of all is because the vice-captain is famous, it cannot be helped that women and a few men are all over him, competing for a crumb of his attention.

your smile disappeared when you saw another video from the social media influencer you mentioned to hoshina last week. it was a short edited footage of the vice-captain's brief interview after the most recent kaiju attack - his hair wet from perspiration, his long fingers trying to brush his bangs away from his eyes. how hoshina can still look ravishing after killing kaijus is a mystery for you as well - no one should be allowed to be that hot, you thought. "hoshina, date me," the caption reads in an annoying cursive font. you were going to scroll away when you noticed your own boyfriend's personal account among the few thousands who liked the clip - the icon of his profile is at the top of the list. you closed the app, formulating a plan to exact a cruel vengeance against hoshina.

the chance came that same night when hoshina dropped by your apartment for dinner. the entire week is for saving the country, hoshina would tell you, but weekends are always dedicated to movie marathons and cuddling until one of you falls asleep.

"what's the theme for tonight? any preferences?" hoshina asked, pressing buttons in the remote control as he goes over the directory of tv series and chick flicks. "i'm thinking something scary."

"you know if you are looking for a reason to snuggle with me, you can literally just say that, soichiro." there was no change in your tone as you delivered the line, biting the insides of your cheek so you won't burst out laughing. keeping a straight face was not that difficult because hoshina seemed to ignore you.

"the conjuring, then." hoshina sat beside you in the couch after choosing a title, his right arm going around your waist as he leans into you.

you rested your head on his shoulder a bit and inhaled lightly the scent of his shirt. "you smell nice, soichiro."

hoshina's arm dropped faster than you would have expected, and when you glanced at him, you wondered if you had taken this game a bit too far.

"right, what did i do this time?" hoshina did not bothering the show playing in the television, the opening credits rolling in the screen.

"what do you mean?" your words were hurried because you feel you were going to explode in giggles. it is absolutely funny how the most skilled close-quarters combatant of the defense force can react so strongly to being called a different name.

"come on, you calling me by my brother's name is infuriating enough already. you doing it again is just hurting my feelings now. you're never mean without a reason. what is this about?" hoshina's face is earnest now and admittedly, you felt a tiny tinge of guilt.

you sighed. "i don't know, maybe your fans wouldn't be calling you the wrong name. you should date them instead." it came out of your mouth too bitter, but you could not take your statement back. trust has never been an issue between you and hoshina in the years you were together, but you don't suppose it is wholly your fault when you get affected by little things like this.

"if i wanted to, i would," hoshina answered calmly. "but obviously, i don't. because here i am, proposing we watch something scary so you could snuggle with me."

you chuckled and that finally eased the tension. "i'm sorry. i did not mean to ruin our night," you confessed. "i swear to pretend i'm scared of the ghost in the movie so i can cuddle closer to you."

hoshina's eyes carry a certain sparkle whenever he smiles. he leaned on you again then grabbing your hand, linked your fingers together.

"hey, you can always talk to me if something's bothering you, you know that, right? and i'll always try to do better by you," he said before kissing you.

you and your boyfriend never finished the movie but at least by the end of the night, hoshina had made sure you call him by no one else's name by making you moan his.

[paigebuckets6]

Yearning Allegations - Pt.3

Part 1 here / Part 2 here

Part: 3

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

Genre: Friends to lovers slowburn (Series)

Summary: You've liked Paige for the longest time, is there any chance she likes you too?

It's been 2 weeks of awkward silence.

Ever since Paige came over the other day, she's either been ghosting your texts entirely or giving you short replies followed up with excuses about how she's really busy.

The biggest game of the season is coming up - Uconn vs Iowa. Everyone's been talking about it, and you know the team is training super hard for the game- KK and Nika won't stop blowing your phone up with Uconn shit. Despite all this, you just can't shake the feeling something is wrong between you two.

So that's why you're walking down to the school gyms at 9 pm, hoping to find Paige practicing late like she does when she's stressed out.

The halls seem so empty and lifeless without her constant chatter and her melodic laughter. You're fidgeting with your clothes, hoping the sinking feeling in your stomach will dissipate soon.

In the gym, you spot Paige on the farside of the court, shooting basket after basket. Her brows are furrowed with concentration, sweat beading on her forehead.

"Paige!" You shout as you lightly jog over.

Paige glances at you and then takes another shot, which just bounces off the backboard with a loud thud. She curses and grabs it on its way down before replying to you.

"Hey y/n, what are you doing here?"

You're anxious, eyes rovering over her face, but she won't meet your gaze.

"Is.. is everything okay between us?" You say, hesitantly stepping closer to her.

Paige has stopped throwing the ball, instead just holding it under one arm with her eyes trained on the floor.

She finally looks at you, a mix of emotions written all over her face.

"Everything's cool, yeah.. but be honest.. Did I.. make you uncomfortable the other day?"

"Of course not, why??" You're surprised by her words, confused by where she's going with this.

Paige's shoulders relax for a moment at your response, but her expression remains conflicted.

"I was just wondering if I took it too far the other day.." She trails off, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Too far?" You breathe out, hardly daring to consider what she means by that.

"Yeah.. I just.."

Paige seems to struggle to get the words out, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"I know you don't want me like how I want you, and I was worried I had made you uncomfortable or something."

Paige wants you? The words ring in your mind.

"What? What do you mean?" You're in disbelief. What is she talking about?

Paige sighs, throwing her basketball into the lined baskets lined by the gym walls before she continues on.

"Y/n, I've liked you for years. I've tried to make that clear, hoping you might take the hint or say something, but you never did. I didn't want to ruin what we have- but the other day made me feel so.." She trails off, "It's just hard to be friends with you when I want more than that. And I'm really sorry for ghosting you, that wasn't cool."

Paige runs her hands through her hair anxiously while your heart strains in your chest.

"And wait- that's not to say I don't want to be friends with you - I love being friends with you, I love you-"

Your heart is pounding in your ears, heart registering her words, and you just can't hold back anymore. You close the distance between you two, lunging for her, kissing her like she's your lifeline.

Paige is shocked for a second, before responding immediately, her hands grabbing your waist, pulling you in further.

It's all you've imagined, yet somehow better. Your hands are tangled in her hair, tugging lightly as her lips desperately press against your own. Paige kisses you, soft and open mouthed, but like a woman starved. You're enveloped in nothing but the sweet scent of her perfume while your heart feels like it's exploding, butterflies flittering wildly around in your stomach.

When you break apart, you both wear matching relieved grins. You swear to yourself that Paige's eyes have never looked more soft than in this moment, the love within them so obvious to you now. Her cheeks are flushed, more pink than you've ever seen them, her eyes alight with an excitement you've only ever attributed to the look she gets when she wins games.

Your next words tumble out in a rush, eager to tell her how you feel.

"I love you, Paige.. I've loved you since high school. I've loved growing up with you, learning more about you over the years, and getting to watch you do what you love. I love the way you care so deeply about people - about your fans, your team, your family. I love how strong you are, persevering through everything just to pursue your dreams."

You laugh, the words freeing to finally say aloud.

"I love all the little things about you, like the way you're so stupidly competitive about everything, whether that's shooting hoops or playing video games, I love your silly cocky nature and all your stupid jokes, your dramatic ass- bro can't even take medicine without taking a solid 10 minutes to complain- and even all the ways you annoy me on purpose just because you know they make me laugh nonetheless. I always feel safe with you, understood in a way I've never felt with other people.. I.. just.. so many things, Paige."

Paige's response is barely above a whisper,

"Why... why didn't you say anything?"

She's running her hands through her hair again, continuing.

"I just thought you didn't like me, like I hoped you did but I was never really sure. That's why I didn't say nothing"

You smile at her,

"I didn't wanna lose you by saying I liked you in case you didn't feel that way, I don't know. Maybe we both did the same thing, haha." You start trailing off awkwardly, suddenly feeling shy with the way she's looking at you.

Paige just grins, pulling you back into her by the hips, bringing you two face to face. She tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear before she rests her hands on your waist.

"Good thing I do, cause now I get to ask you to be my girl." Paige is grinning so widely you just grin back, happiness manifesting as butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

"Pfftt.. I was always your girl. " You stick your tongue out at her, and she throws an arm over your shoulder in response.

"Damn y/n tryin rizz me up!?" Paige laughs at her own joke before continuing,

"Anyway, come on, let's go home."

She holds the gym doors open for you, and you're struck with a sense of deja vu, heart full.

"Well.. I mean, it worked."

You smirk at her with that.

Paige just bites her lip in response, waggling her brows and rubbing her hands together at you.

You groan as you both walk to her dorm,

"Not the rizz hands!"

All you hear is her resulting laugh.

"Always the rizz hands! Come on y/n you love it, clearlyyyy."

You find yourself unable to stop smiling at her, but you attempt an eye roll to keep up appearances anyway.

"You're all mine now," you say, shoving her slightly.

Paige smiles back, love in her gaze.

"I was always yours y/n."

---

Authors Note: This is the final chapter, I love soft Paige. Hope y'all enjoyed it. Thanks for reading! <3

[teastainedprose]

Office Tryst ( Homelander x Reader)

I had bigger plans for this, but the inspiration well dried up so I'm slapping this up here as is.

🔞1K EXACTLY, You hate Homelander. He's a fucking bastard, but you'll fuck him all the same. (PIV sex, flirting with voyeurism, bruises, biting) [AO3]

Office trysts are nothing new to those scurrying about Vought Tower. Homelander has heard and witnessed plenty by mistake while zoning out in meetings, x-ray vision active as his gaze has wandered. He's seen some shit.

Now, engaging in one is a whole other beast. Homelander is finding that he delights in the risk of it, even if it is with you. For Homelander, getting caught is a thrill and for you? Well, they'd fire your ass.

Which is why you know it's intentional when the elevator doors slide open and Homelander is standing there with a wicked grin. He's quick to yank you against his unyielding form, one hand already pawing at the front of your blouse as he succeeds in shoving his tongue down your throat.

He's always quick to release you right before the elevator chimes and those doors slide wide open, too. His timing is impeccable but you figure it's his super hearing discerning when the elevator slows. It's far easier for Homelander to put himself back together in that stupid suit than it is for you to tug your clothing back into place and smooth down your hair.

Your fear of getting caught amuses Homelander and you swear your quickening pulse at the sound of footsteps gets him harder every time. 

He could put that super hearing to good use as no one can actively sneak up on the Homelander. You both know he lets it happen every fucking time. 

He delights in how you shove your face into his suit and clamp your mouth shut in an attempt to keep quiet. That's when Homelander whispers the most deprived things in your ear, rutting into you harder while trying to pull louder moans from you.

"I fucking hate you," You hiss up at him as the sound of retreating foot steps diminishes. You glare at him even while his cock is buried in you.  You'd frozen up at the sound, muscles tense with dread because your skirt is hiked up, pinned against the wall with Homelander balls deep in you. Not exactly an HR approved gesture between coworkers.

"I know, sweetheart." Homelander purrs back as he begins to move into you again. His thrusts are punishing as he resumes his relentless pace. You finally reward him with subdued moans directly into his ear, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure you two steal.

It's a dangerous game you're both playing, but it's fun. Also, he's The Homelander. No one is going to chide him and who is going to blame you?

If you slink off and that 'bathroom' break is longer than expected, who among your coworkers is going to snitch? None of them are going to quibble if Homelander's partner vanishes within the building for strange, lengthy breaks. No one would dare.

As the office trysts continue, you begin to learn more of Homelander's moods. His rages are legendary and people know to avoid the supe on bad numbers days, but you're learning everything between a total meltdown and a good day.

The good days he's almost affectionate. His wit is biting as you exchange barbs, but it's all playful undertones as you bare your teeth at one another. On such days, you almost like him. He's almost charming. It's fun.

Then there are the days where everything has gone terribly wrong for Homelander. You know these sort of rages can result in little fires within the building. There was one incident where a production trailer exploded, blamed on a faulty wire. Curious that it had been Homelander's trailer and he'd looked extra petulant that day. 

Those are the sort of days people scurry out of Homelanders' way, but for you? Those are the days you find you like best.

He's always desperate those days. Homelander growls in your ear, snatches at the back of your neck as he looms as a threat behind you. He'll give a possessive squeeze against your skin and a polite false smile to your coworkers with a comment about needing to speak to his girl in private. 

The thrill that hums through your body is always the same. The danger of Homelander always excites you. You refuse to analyze why his possessiveness makes you all the wetter.

You're merrily dragged away into some empty conference room or even a broom closet of all things and Homelander doesn't wait to latch his teeth onto some part of your flesh. Your neck. Your shoulder. Once your inner thigh before he shoved your skirt up higher and yanked your panties down to bury his face there with a snarl. His favorite is a breast, usually the right one or whichever he can get out of your top the quickest. The bruises last for days and you don't mind that in the least.

Always aggressive with how he bites and sucks, little concern as to how it harms you. Which it does, but you like it. Homelander knows how to sink his teeth into you to pull delicious noises free, the ones you try to cover up even while he urges you to be louder. The angry, red marks Homelander leaves are reminders of a fun time had by all.

There's some aggressive urge to vent his frustrations out on your body, but even then Homelander is coiled with control. He could break skin with a flex of his jaw, snap bones with a flick of his wrist, but he never does. Not even when Homelander stares up at you, hatred boiling in the endless blue of his eyes. He hates you as you hate him. Homelander especially hates how he craves you.

Yet, even if the two of you growl out about how much you loathe each other? Even as he glares and postures, the hatred never burns as hot as it used to. It never burns the pair of you up like your passion does now on the daily. You try not to think about that. Such thoughts are dangerous.

[zillychu]

hi hello looks at the tags of ur recent act 5 sif art. i wld LOVE to hear more about the stress level mechanic you mentioned if you perhaps wanna ramble about it 👉👈

I kept putting off answering this ask forever bc I wanted to finish the idea it came with, but idk when that will happen so here we go!

This was a game mechanic I thought of while refining an idea for a hypothetical sequel (two actually, for a trilogy), where Siffrin essentially remains OP as hell. But this does not actually make things easier.

Ramblings about the distress level mechanic, and story thoughts under the cut! This contains spoilers!

Re: In Stars and Wind

(get it. re: because it's a sequel. and also re:wind. wind is important. and there are no loops but Sif rewinds. god I'm so funny)

[[ Act I, part I ]]

Starts as a slow, cute holiday where the player gets to control different party members for each part of the story for different points of view and inner thoughts, to get a better feel of where everyone is emotionally.

Now in Bambouche, the party is traveling together, the atmosphere very much a relaxed and welcomed vacation. We see some of the new, but very mild conflict they have to juggle–how everyone has different opinions on handling their exploding fame, different ideas on where to go next… acclimating to Siffrin’s new demeanor and ailments. 

It's nothing terrible! Siffrin is more susceptible to Crafting sickness now, like an old injury that's fully healed but can get sore easily. Using Craft normally tends to mean lingering fatigue, maybe a nap or two. Heavier usage, and he gets body aches and fevers. 

He's also…different, now. They all know, they understand, they take it all in genuine stride. It's just a bit bumpy when Siffrin brings up something he shouldn't know, references things that never happened, still instinctively reaches for their knife or looks for easy ways to die when they feel cornered. Sometimes he gets unreasonably scared in battle, sometimes unreasonably scary. His power fluctuates from lv.1 to lv.999 (wait, wasn't the level cap supposed to be 99?)

Odile and Isa are the first ones seen discussing how odd that is. They saw those after-images of him running through the House on his own, they know he's strong. Much stronger than anyone could be even with years of fighting Sadness. (How long was Siffrin trapped in those loops, anyway?) Hell, he had the power to become something akin to a god.

They chalk up his moments of weakness to Craft Sickness, perhaps even a new and lingering disorder. They're not worried about it being a bother, they're just worried about what it could mean for him. They've brought it up before, but Sif also looked a bit confused and would say he just felt weak and tired for some reason. They think maybe his ridiculous power back then was only there due to the Wish Craft that no longer exists–maybe they're blowing things out of proportion.

Though all in all, everyone is happy! They're all together, seeing new places, becoming closer. 

At the end, they have a campfire picnic at night. It's then that everyone solidifies they're family now, and Sif is struck by how similar it all feels to that night. The night he wished he had back. He breaks down into tears and they try to comfort him, but he's happy. He tells them about that night now lost in the loops, how everything went right that day. Everyone laughs and cries and it's full and bright, their little campfire shining like a star in the night. They all love, and they're all loved. 

[[ Act I, part II ]]

Despite all the warmth. Despite all the joy and progress they've all made. 

Siffrin is still hiding something. 

Back in purely Sif's POV, we find out there's much, much more to his condition than everyone realizes. 

He struggles with keeping his masks in order, some of them popping up against his will. He doesn't have multiple personalities, but he is a bit more extreme with his personas. He tries to be Siffrin, the rogue, the traveler, the friend. But he's also Siffrin, who endured over a year stuck in a time loop, who aged what feels like eons, whose power now rivals a god's and can barely contain his extreme reactions to distress, to knowing or even thinking his family is in danger.

Sometimes, during a fight, he thinks a Sadness hit a friend a bit too hard–and he eviscerates it, gaze too dead and too cold and he can see the way his allies freeze up. Can see their uncertainty, their waiting fear (just like that time). Thankfully, he can shake it off once he notices they're safe, and they relax when he's “back to normal" easy enough. 

But it isn't just battles when this can happen. Sometimes even doing the simplest most mundane thing can slowly slip the contentment off his face (even if he's still happy!), or habitually slip into masking too hard with unnervingly fake smiles. Sometimes he'll simply order some food only to find the shopkeep staring at him warily.

But that's okay. He's used to acting. His family tells him he doesn't need to do that, that he shouldn't hide anymore. But this isn't the same, is it? He really is happy, he's just covering up some weird muscle memory that'll disappear in time. This is a good thing, actually! He's being more honest this way! Right? 

Like he's being “honest” about the Time and Wish Craft irrevocably etched into his soul now. He's not lying, he really does get Craft Sickness easily now! It's just. It's maybe not all coming from his “injury" of overusing Craft and nearly destroying the world. Not entirely. But that's part of it, so he's not lying! 

(Lying by omission is still lying. Stupid. Useless. Don't you ever learn? When will you learn? Can you learn? Why do you keep repeating the same mistakes–)

They're not the same mistakes though! He's getting better at talking to his friends, letting them know when he needs help. He's changing he's changed too much go back go back go back just like they are!

He knows he needs to tell them if something big happens. And he will! He'd never get trapped in a another time loop and not trust them enough to avoid relying on them. He knows now how much it hurts to see a loved one shoulder so much pain when you can be there to help split the burden.

But what's going on is nothing. It's silly! It's just him being silly. There's no reason to tell them about something they'll probably get all worked up over when it's really not that big of a deal. Friends don't tell friends absolutely everything, they've all admitted as much too! Sometimes you do have to balance little white lies, little secrets. Pick and choose which battles to share, which to keep personal. 

So it's really not that big of a deal! He's figuring out why his body still innately uses Time Craft sometimes and he rewinds the world a bit. 

Okay. Okay that sounds so much worse than it is. Really! He's not stuck in a loop anymore, he doesn't rewind whole days. He'll just. Sometimes he'll get hurt, or really scared, or really upset and the world kinda. Blinks back a few minutes, or hours. Back before the thing that caused him distress. 

They don't need to know about that. It's no big deal. Nothing has ever changed drastically anyway (Bonnie would have just gotten scuffed up falling down that hill, that stomach wound Odile sustained could have been easily healed, Isa would have recovered from a broken fractured leg, Mira could have dealt with that overzealous fan herself) 

It wasn't like he watched them die again again again, he didn't die, the world wasn't ending. Everything was fine!

Did that weird cat just talk. 

[Gameplay changes from here, traveling from town A to town B. There are still a lot of Sadness roaming about, you save a couple people, etc etc]

[[End of Act I]]

[GAMEPLAY DIFFERENCES]

Everything is the same, but has additional statuses now!

Buffs and debuffs have two levels, normal (1 level) and critical (2 levels)

In addition to HP, there's now distress (DL= distress level)

Distress increases with: 

Battle duration

Damage taken (healing proportionally reverses this) (lower HP = bigger increase)

Allies getting hit with Criticals

Allies getting low on HP

New enemy attacks that inflict negative emotions

Distress decreases with: 

Healing

Shields and buffs 

New distress-specific items

New neutral Craft ability: Breathe

Resets to 0 after battle victory

Effects of distress:

When personal distress hits a certain percentage, allies gain certain debuffs and/or buffs (intentionally made to show stress can be beneficial, up to a point)

20%: ATK/DEF/ATKSPD up (1)

40%: ATK/ATKSPD up (1), DEF down critically (2) (most mob fights stop around here)

60%: ATK up (1), DEF/ATKSPD down critically (2)

80%: ATK/DEF/ATKSPD down critically (2)

100%: Cannot act. Essentially frozen, can only be decreased with specific items/skills or battle end.

Siffrin only: 

As personal distress increases, the chance increases that Siffrin loses control of his strength, dealing massive damage 1.5x above a Critical, but at a cost. These are called Overclocked attack/Crafts (haha, get it?)

Overclocked attack: Hits all enemies and your party, lowering HP (including yourself)

Overclocked Craft: Increases both ally and enemy stress (including yourself)

80%: Act 5 Siffrin unlocked. Sprite permanently changed until distress is lowered under 50%. All attacks/Crafts are now Overclocked, and he only has DEF down critically. Allies gain distress 1.5x faster.

100%: Unleashes Wish Craft immediately (regardless of turn order), dealing massive damage to all enemies and allies, and brings HP down to 1. Gains special “Craft Sickness" status, where all stats are down critically for the remainder of the battle. 

This state is Siffrin instinctively attempting to go full bigfrin, but non-fatally stabs themself to keep their mind grounded :)

(You eventually obtain equips and/or Craft skills that minimizes the backlash of Siffrin's Overclocked hits and Wish Craft, making it a viable strategy to intentionally distress him. This has an effect on the story! It's not healthy to burn yourself out to achieve more in life, stop that.)

And that's all I have for now! I'm not sure if/when I'll get the urge to finish things up, but I have a super rough draft. Can you guess what the weird talking cat is about? :) Teehee

[actual-lea]

So who wants to hear about the stupid stupid way I'm playing Baldur's Gate 3?

I made it to Act 3 on my first (original character) playthrough like a week before Patch 5 came out, and after finding it absolutely unplayable (on the PS5) decided it was time to go ahead and start an origin character run for the funsies while waiting on the new patch to fix the Lag Hell. Naturally, I picked Gale. Since this was mostly just for fun/to hold me over until I could continue my other file, I decided it would be a nice time to see what happens if you just refuse to consume any magic items. Of course, if you are not playing as Gale and ignore his Orb Problem, he will apparently eventually leave your party, but what if you ARE Gale? I couldn't find an answer with a minimal amount of Googling SO

There are three stages to his Arcane Hunger, each of which give you increasingly debilitating debuffs: Arcane Hunger, Greater Arcane Hunger, and Severe Arcane Hunger. It seems the triggers for progressing to the next stage are the same as the triggers where he would start needing an item in my other file (i.e. that bridge next to the Blighted Village, entering the temple at the Goblin Camp, the Hag's Lair, etc.) which obviously makes sense. I figure with the amount of contingencies in this game for incredibly specific situations, surely there is some kind of unique dialog or fun cutscene that will play if I ignore the Arcane Hunger long enough and just play through the debuffs.

I played Act 1 completely normally, doing a lil quicksave every time I was about to Long Rest just in case the game gave me a cutscene of the big explosion upon waking up (I thought maybe it would be time-based, similar to the game over you get if Gale dies and you leave him for 3 days (? I think?) which does not seem to be the case). I made it through basically everything without anything odd happening besides the aforementioned debuffs. The Severe Arcane Hunger is where things get really sloggy, because Gale can only move at half speed.

I have been slowly trudging EVERYWHERE since the Goblin Camp.

I eventually started going out of my way to make sure I hit all the Arcane Hunger triggers I know about, to see what would happen, and the answer is nothing, aside from Gale occasionally reminding me that he's wracked with terrible pain.

So, surely, the game will certainly not let me into the Mountain Pass without SOMETHING happening, right?

WELL

That's surprising, but whatever, at least now I have the chance to see what happens if you go meet Elminster without having consumed any magic items,

Except

He wasn't there.

I went to the area in the Mountain Pass where the cutscene is supposed to start, and it just. Didn't happen. Nothing happened. I could walk right up to the entrance to the next area.

But SURELY, the game won't let me into the gotdamn Shadow-Cursed Lands without saying SOMETHING about the fact that the orb has been starving for several weeks at this point, right? The game isn't going to let me into Act Freaking 2 without at the very least giving me a game over to tell me I'm not allowed to do this and make me reload and actually feed this poor starving wizard, right?

RIGHT?

WELL

WELL

Here we are. I'm at the Last Light Inn, I'm at the Taco Bell, I'm at the combination Last Light Inn Taco Bell with a bag full of delicious Cheesy Gordita Magic Boots that I refuse to eat.

SO LIKE. How far does this go??? Am I gonna be able to infiltrate Moonrise Towers without ever speaking to Elminster? Am I gonna trudge all the way to Ketheric at half freaking speed and fight him with Disadvantage on everything?? Am I gonna make it all the way to goddang Baldur's Gate with a Netherese orb that is long overdue to explode???

Like I said, I did not find an answer on what happens if you do this on a Gale Origin playthrough, and at this point, I don't even want to, I just want to see how far I can take this.

I already know I'll have to do another normal Gale playthrough where I actually FEED HIM after this, because I'm sure I've missed out on a ton of dialogue and whatnot, especially from Tara who only ever has this to say when I speak with her in camp:

I am genuinely beginning to wonder if there is actually nothing in place to stop me from doing this. I am wondering what the dialogue options will look like when I get to the "Heart of the Absolute" where Gale would ordinarily want to blow himself up, if Elminster had ever shown up to tell him to do so. Maybe the devs just didn't bother, and figured that no one would be stupid and stubborn enough to play through the whole dang thing while so severely debuffed.

Joke's on them, Disadvantage means NOTHING to Magic Missile Machine Gale Dekarios.

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

Pick a Card: Message from your Inner-Child

Your inner baby needs you to listen. This reading will help them speak their mind clearly. Will you hear them out? Take what resonates and let go of all the rest but be willing to accept new experiences.

☀️Donate to my CashApp🌙

(fund my inner child's joy)

Feel free to drop any reading suggestions in my inbox. I'll keep them in mind when divining the wisdom that needs delivered to y'all's lil ears. Thank you in advance for all your help and support!

Decks used are The Kawaii Tarot, Pure Magic Oracle, Romantic Lenormand and The Karma Cards.

_____________________________________________________________

PILE ONE

Astrology: Capricorn, Aquarius, Libra

Song: Pantsuit Sasquatch by Molly Lewis

Vibes: Green, red, night sky, thorns, bouquet, red flowers, chess, star gazing, alligator, aroma therapy, herbal remedies, apothecary, rabbits, snake skin, olive branch, Zues, Demeter

Cards: 6 of Swords, Saturn, Tower, Lilies, Herbal Craft, Hallowed Heart

Hello, pile 1. Your inner child is really tired of having to be the adult for people who are older than them. They are tired of playing mentor for those who should be mentoring. They want to be done with those people. They are holding up a building with their tiny arms and their shaking frame. As if someone put the world on their shoulders and asked them to carry it with bones that were not developed enough to hold it and without the mental fortitude to withstand the pressure. They wish to rest. They wish to lash out at the adults who relied on them before they were ready or willing. I see your inner child resembles Alice in Wonderland. After the wicked adults in your inner child's life grew white flowers, they demanded it was your fault and made you paint the white roses, red. They took their purity. They hurt you a lot.

The main message I am hearing from them is, "Please be gentle with my little heart and my small frame. I was treated harshly purely for being alive. I need healing. I need time to rest and recuperate. Please do not yell at me for my mistakes. Please do not hurt me for my shortcomings. I did not ask to be here. I only wish for it to get better than it is now. I'm sorry I wasn't mature. I'm sorry I've been impatient but I have been patient for so long. I've spent so much time waiting for my caretakers to do their jobs. Please. I don't need structure. I need relief."

They do not hold you accountable for everything that happened to you, my dear. They are reaching their little hands out for you to help them up. They want to be more present in your life. They want to have fun again. They didn't have enough of it as a child. They want to play outside. The last message I'll leave you with is some advice I find very important.

"Play is the psychological opposite of Trauma."

____________

PILE TWO

Astrology: Scorpio, Gemini, Cancer (maybe libra)

Song: Burn Your Village by Kiki Rockwell

Vibes: Grey, pink, purple, corvids, pinecones, sage, lavender plant, grizzly bear, spider, scorpio, eagle, hummingbird, long hair, video games, D&D, law, Zephyr, Eurus, Callisto, Artemis, Hecate

Cards: Justice, Clouds, Bear, Hecate's Path, Songbirds, 8th House

Hi, pile 2. Your inner child is full of vengeance. I see that without the vengeful energy they are very respectful and kind. Their anger is extremely understandable and a reaction induced by the environment they grew up in. Your inner child has an intense sense of justice. They know they have been treated unjustly by the authority in their life. Those in control of their circumstance took their autonomy and right of trial. The authorities judged you harshly for no good reason and were unpredictable. The authority would explode at random instances making them hard to anticipate. They were dangerous. Purely because they wanted to make your life miserable to cope with their own miserable life. Your inner child did not deserve that. Your inner innocence was corrupted into a furious and resentful person. They are aware they deserved better. They were conscious of their mistreatment. I see they could have been mistreated because of their race or gender.

The message I am hearing the loudest from your inner child is, "Those filthy horrid people deserve to atone for their wrong doings. No one helped me. They didn't even listen. They took that authorities word for truth and no one heard my side of the story. I am not a liar. I am not guilty. I did nothing wrong and now my older self doesn't even believe me either. The people who did this to me will pay. They will face justice if I have to be the one to dish it out. I hate them. I hate what they turned me into. I was pure. I was innocent. Now look at what they have made me. This isn't fair. This isn't right! Why was I treated this way!? Why does no one believe me?! I will never abuse power like that person did. I will end this cycle of abuse. I release and remove everyone who blamed me without learning the whole story. I am letting go of the pain they put me through. They do not deserve me or my kindness. They only deserve my hatred and resentment. I hope they burn."

Your inner child begs you to protect them from the people who did this to you. I can feel they are still in your life. It might be a father or a brother or an uncle. I also see it could be a pastor. Your inner baby will continue to lash out at random times because they have no where to aim all this negative emotion. They want to be free of guilt that shouldn't be theirs. They want to be free of judgmental eyes. Free them from the illusion that this authority laid over everyones eyes. I leave you with one last message.

"The weakest link will target the strongest link to avoid that they're useless."

_________

PILE THREE

Astrology: Virgo, Leo, Sagittarius

Song: Heart of a Dancer by The Happy Fits

Vibes: Blue, pink, forest green, androgenous, duality, 2b hair texture, robins, blue jays, coffee mugs, sculpting, yin/yang, balance, rose quartz, pearl, magnolia tree, gardening, bonfire, 3rd eye, Aphrodite, Hermaphroditus, archangel Samuel, Lucifer Morningstar, Baphomet

Cards: 8 of Cups, Birds, Woman, Pyro-kinesis, Closing Circle, Virgo, 7th House, North Node

Hey there, pile 3. I feel many complex emotions from your inner child. I see how they were conditioned is much different than how they genuinely are. They were conditioned to be quiet, serene and passive. But when they are acting genuine it is exact opposite. They are loud, angry and active. There is a need to walk away from their conditioning and those who conditioned them. They don't know how to ask that of you because of how they were taught. They do not speak unless spoken too and this makes it difficult for them to communicate with you. They are anxious they will be punished if they ask for anything of you. Invite them forward and allow them to speak their mind. They hold back a lot of emotion that needs to be expressed. You need to be open to hearing what they have to say.

The important message I need to tell you from them is, "You will benefit from our collaboration. I'm sorry for speaking up but you are not following your heart anymore. You are following what you have been told. This is not authenticity that you display. It is fake. Even if it is well-meaning you are not yourself. You are pretending to be someone else. Please let me express my rage. Please let me express my heart. I can't hold it anymore. I don't wanna feel this way anymore. Let me chatter and chirp and yell and scream. I wasn't allowed to when I was young. I need the freedom to do so now. Allow me to open doors I was never allowed to enter. Please see me in my full complexity. I am more than just a pretty face. I am more than my body. I am a person. I have personality. I have beliefs. I am a benefit to society when I can speak. I am not a waste. I am good as I am. I don't need to bottle my true self to make others comfortable. Free me, please."

They are asking you to allow yourself and your inner child to be themselves. They deserve space to exist freely without having to hide themselves away. I honestly don't need to say much more but I will leave you with one more piece of advice.

"Authenticity is the most powerful way to exist."

___________

PILE FOUR

Astrology: Taurus, Aries, Pisces (maybe aquarius)

Song: If My Heart Was a House by Owl City

Vibes: Muted colors, yellow, orange, fairies, sunflowers, barn owl, cat mint, raptors, vase, eyes, beards, lotus, candles, chimneys, diamond, playing cards, hobbits, anime, Apollo, Athena, Aphrodite

Cards: King of Pentacles, Sun, Owls, Ancestors, Gnomes, Aquarius, Venus

Hello and welcome, pile 4. Your inner child is asking me to tell you that you won't find the love you are looking for in other people. You won't find it in romance. You won't find it in friendship. At least not until you can find it in them. They didn't have the luxury of building their life on an identity that was theirs. They don't even know who they are. You need to explore them. Discover yourself in them. Be friends with them. They long for connection and the only one who can give that to them is you. They spent their whole life just trying to survive that they found identity in the pain they experienced. There is so much more to them than victimhood. So much more than their trauma. They are bright as the sun and immensely smart. They are funny and creative. Let yourself and your inner child grow beyond your collective pain and become something more. Your family isn't the pinnacle of humanity. I have a feeling that your family might have a narcissist among them. They are only a facet of humanity, my friend. There is so much more to your life than being approved by others. You are made of magic. You need to see that.

The message I hear from your inner child is, "I'm done striving for love from people who never intend on giving it to me no matter how perfectly I perform. I'm tired chasing something I'm never going to catch up too. I've always known I'm better than that. They made me feel so small though. They made me feel so pointless and useless. I worked so hard for their love but they will only ever love themselves. They will never have enough room in their heart for me. They make me feel like I'm not enough. I want to give myself the love they never could afford for me. I want to be loved so much. I want to be held and cherished the way I deserve to be. I am enough even if they say I'm not. I've always been enough even though I'm small. They are a giant black hole of emptiness and nothing. They are jealous of my light. I wish my older self could see that. I'm not selfish for wanting to be loved. I'm not wrong for wanting to be adored. I'm worth the effort. Please, see that it's true. I want to be known for who I am. I want to be discovered. I wish so deeply to be seen and appreciated. I'm the only one who can do it."

Your inner child is asking something of you. They ask you to take the role of mother and father for yourself. A role that was never filled even if you had your parents in your life. They neglected you. So much so you felt like you didn't deserve love but you desperately craved it. My dear, I will leave you with one last message and then the rest is up to you.

"You are worthy of being loved by you."