#i feel bad because even in real life someone will be like

[martian-astro10]

Astrology observations - Part 6 (use whole signs and sidereal)

🐻‍❄️ I said it before that moon in 6th house people can be great leaders, and since then I met 4 new people with moon in 6th and I've come to the conclusion that rather than being the leader, these people work better as the right hand person of a leader. They're much better at following the instructions rather than giving them.

🔵 If you are a girl, and you have mars aspecting Saturn and vice versa, I would HIGHLY recommend you guys to marry a non binary person. This placement can cause unpleasant situations to arise if you don't take the right measures. So I won't say, don't marry, or your married life will be bad, but rather, marry someone who is comfortable expressing both their feminine and masculine side.

🐻‍❄️ if your 7th lord of d1 is in the 3rd house of d9 and the planet is a natural malefic like, Saturn, mars or sun, then it can make you fight with your siblings after marriage. I know 3 people with this and now none of them talk to their siblings. So i would recommend you guys to not listen to your spouse when it comes to your siblings. If you have a good relationship with siblings then first, talk to them rather than believing someone who you just met.

🔵 In vedic, sun is considered to be dead when it's in the 12th house, and the common interpretation is that they cannot be good leaders but I view it a little differently. I know a lot of people with this who are SOO GOOD at leading people BUT they have zero self confidence and it genuinely pisses me off so much because one of my friend has this and I always push her to apply for HOD positions but she's like "no, I can't do it" like GIRL, ATLEAST TRY FIRST. So if you have this, just trust yourself and apply for that position. All I'll say is "A real loser is someone who is so afraid of not winning, they don't even try"

🐻‍❄️ I know quite a few people who say that mars in Aries/ scorpio is better when it's in the chart of a man but I don't agree with that. Maybe I'm being biased because I have it but I think that women handle this placement better. Men already have so much fucking audacity and with mars being so strong it just gets multiplied by 100. I feel like these are the men who make podcasts about how a woman's purpose is to be a submissive breedable bitch for a man. Whereas, some of the most successful businesswomen have their mars in Aries/Scorpio/ Capricorn (the effect is multiplied when it's in the 1,4,7, 10 house). women are literally taught to put everyone else's needs before theirs but with mars being so strong they don't give a fuck, because now they embody those traditional "masculine" traits like being a selfish asshole.

🔵 Honestly, the real men, the ones who embody all the good masculine traits are those who have Jupiter in 1,4,10 house. I can give 100 examples from my personal life but, all I'll say is that Keanu Reeves has this....they are the ones who are actually the protectors, providers, brave, strong and dominant in a gentle way. Also, I'm like 100% sure that Carlisle Cullen would have this if he was a real person.

🐻‍❄️ Also, 7th lord of d9 in 1st or 4th house of d9 gives you a future spouse who represents your "ideal type". As I've said many times before, I only know 2 happily married straight couples 🥲 and both of them have this, so in one couple, both the wife and the husband have it and in another, the wife has it. I also know a lesbian couple and both the wives have this. I didn't cross check it with celebrities since most of them put on a facade.

🔵 Jupiter in 6th house....these people have such good luck. It's like, they get everything so easily and the worst part is that they don't know how to work and yet they keep on getting promoted because of nepotism and corruption, and the person who says anything against them gets fired. I wish I was making this observation based on one person, but I know FIVE people with this and it's the same case with all of them.

🐻‍❄️ Mercury in 10th is a placement that I've been seeing quite a lot these days, literally every chart I see has this. These people can be GREAT therapists and journalists from what I've seen, or they may also be the "mom" friend in their group. They're also very social and love interacting with people, they may be the most beloved in their friend group like "if you don't go then we won't go either" type. I'm a little jealous of them tbh, love their ability to light up the room with their presence.

🔵 Venus in 8th, I feel like this is going to be a little negative 😭. These people are very much into the hook up culture, especially men. I feel like they would be happier in a polyamorous relationship. This is also the placement that I do not like seeing in d9, I don't fuck with people who have this but I know many people who are okay with such unconventional relationships, and if you're one of those, then good for you. You don't have to fit in boxes made by other people. If you like something, then you like that, period. (If you're not like this, good, don't start ranting in the comments, it's annoying)

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2025

[lizardho]

Being at BYU after my mission was weird. Like. Bad weird. Everybody was still acting like missionaries but they had nobody to teach so it all turned into the holier-than-thou bs that missions always degenerate into over time. Just the forced establishment of some weird social hierarchy where value is based on how devout you are, with people digging and scratching and clawing their way around humanity in order to become even more devout.

And this bullshit was actively killing me. The attempts to stay Good Enough were scraping the remnants of my humanity out of my husk like a spoon scraping the last bits of watermelon from a rind - I was doing what I had always done, be Mormon, do what Mormons do, be as good a Mormon as I could be, only it was breaking me. Instead of healing me, making me whole, taking away my burdens, it was pulling the life out of me in exchange for nothing. I was just being squeezed dry of everything I had to offer and being given back shame and isolation and rejection because I didn’t do it first, or fast enough, or with a willing enough heart, or whatever the hell they could come up with.

But despite myself, because most people smarter than me AND dumber than me would have left already, I found myself trying over and over and over again to make it work with no success.

One day, I snap. I’ve had enough. I need answers. I’ve looked everywhere and done everything I could by myself, and nothing had come of it, so I went to talk to a faculty member. A teacher at the school. He taught religion classes and his lessons were powerfully and inspiringly honest, earnest, and filled with raw humanity. I figured if I could get a straight (ha) answer from anyone, it would be that guy. He wasn’t involved in the Mormon rat race. He wasn’t playing the stupid “I’m Worthier Than You” games that were so pernicious on campus. He was being real and open and vulnerable and I needed that from someone.

So I go into his office and I lay my cards on the table. I figure if I’m gonna get helped, I need to be honest. I share with him my weird feelings about dad leaving the church on my mission. About my siblings leaving the church. About my own doubts and hurts. I tell him about how hard it is to be in limbo like this without knowing what to do or where to turn. I tell him I need answers.

And he listens. And then he starts with the usual Mormon apologetics bullshit. And I say “no” because I’m done with that. That doesn’t fly with me anymore. And he sees and hears me say no and he puts a hand on mine, makes direct eye contact, and says,

“You know, you don’t have to go to church, right?”

I, being a person who was hurting, interpreted that as “if you have questions that I can’t answer you should fuck off.” I got defensive immediately and he again listened, put his hand on mine, and said,

“Not what I meant. You can stay if you want, but I want you to know you can leave too. Take a break. Give yourself time to heal. This isn’t supposed to hurt this much, and if it hurts you can take a break and come back when it feels good.”

I’m actually getting choked up just writing that out. Nobody had ever said that to me before. When I talked about my dysphoria to my parents, they said teenagers are supposed to feel like that a little bit. When I talked to people about my difficulties at church they had always told me that it was a sign that church was working. That I was doing it right. That growth was supposed to hurt, that excising the Natural Man from me was supposed to be difficult, that I was supposed to be feeling this anxious and sad and scared. I had never ever ever been told that pain and suffering were signs things were going wrong. I had actually explicitly been told by many many many many many many many many people that it was good, that the hurt and the heartache and the constant feeling of never being good enough and never being able to fit into my own skin or love myself in any meaningful way was desirable. That it was something they envied.

It’s not supposed to hurt. Some things can, and should. My parents were right that some body concerns were normal (although we later found out my specific concerns were more abnormal lmao, I got that tgirl swag). My family and friends were right that challenging myself with difficult assignments and ambitious goals was supposed to feel uncomfortable.

And at the same time, THIS was not supposed to hurt. I was not meant to have this gaping throbbing aching hole in my Me that never let up. It wasn’t supposed to hurt. IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HURT.

I don’t know when exactly I started crying, but I was crying the whole rest of the day. It was the first time in a while I had to actually take a Valium to clam down. It wasn’t supposed to hurt.

He also told me that if it ever stopped hurting I could always come back.

I think that was the day I really left. Others might say otherwise, I still tried to make it work for a few more months after that, but the idea that it wasn’t supposed to hurt really changed me.

If any of you are reading this - there are things that are supposed to be difficult. Things that are supposed to hurt. But if your faith or your beliefs about the world or yourself leave you feeling like you’ve been hollowed out at a minor mistake or setback, if your failures and setbacks leave you feeling raw and numb frequently, if the company you keep or the places you stay leave you feeling constantly inadequate with out hope or help, then I’ll tell you the same thing that professor told me:

You can go somewhere else. You can do something else. And you can always come back when you want.

But it’s not supposed to hurt.

[antianakin]

I don't really buy into the popular idea that Anakin somehow would've been saved by being asked to look after Jedi children, that it somehow would've magically taught him how to let go in a way he couldn't have learned in canon.

For one, you say that Anakin wanted someone to love him unconditionally and have their lives revolve around him. That's only partly true. Yes, he wants someone whose life revolves around him, but he specifically wants someone who will DEFINE themselves by their relationship to him. He wants someone who will do whatever he asks when he asks it of them, he wants someone whose first and only real priority is HIM, he wants someone who will give him whatever he wants whenever he wants it. This is why he likes Palpatine so much, it's why he gets upset whenever Padme tries to tell him no. You might notice, too, that this is an INCREDIBLY unhealthy dynamic to have with ANYONE and not something that should be encouraged to have.

The other issue with this is that no Jedi children are going to be taught to have their lives revolve around their creche master. The whole POINT behind the Jedi taking in younger children and toddlers rather than older kids is that it allows them to instill their values and teachings a lot earlier, BEFORE they'd learn to become too connected to one guardian (or one SET of guardians). Jedi children are unlikely to be encouraged to see their crechemaster the same way that other children see their parents. The Jedi tend to raise children COMMUNALLY, so their younglings likely have many different people raising them from the start. They're unlikely to have one person who just becomes a de facto parent for like 10-12 kids until they reach padawan age and then they just pass them off to the next person who becomes a new de facto parent. The Jedi would be taught that the whole Order are their family, that they can rely on ANYONE among the Jedi for aid and guidance and comfort. Anakin would not be handed a small group of kids that are just now "his" for like a decade or something. I don't buy that that's how Jedi would ever work (I DO buy that that could be how Mandos work, though).

So EVEN IF we go with the idea that somehow raising a child will fulfill the part of Anakin that wants someone whose life revolves around him, he won't get that from Jedi children, who are literally being taught not to let their lives revolve around one person from the moment they're given to the Order.

For two, this completely ignores that one of Anakin's biggest motivations is that he wants to be seen as a HERO, he wants fame and glory, he wants to do grand deeds like coming back to Tatooine to free all the slaves. As you might imagine, taking care of children isn't exactly going to seem like it fulfills that desire to someone like Anakin. It just isn't. THIS desire is what keeps Anakin from just LEAVING the Jedi in order to go be with Padme. If he just gets to be Padme's trophy wife, he can't go off to play the hero. He wants the fame and glory that he believes comes with being a Jedi, he wants the adoration that he thinks he can only get as a Jedi. If he didn't care about that, he'd have just left it the moment Padme agreed to be with him (or earlier, honestly). This desire is ALSO why he's peaks during the war, it's why he's so much happier and more comfortable during wartime than any other Jedi is. During the war, the Jedi are reduced to just going out and fighting "the bad guys" and protecting "the good guys." It allows Anakin to really settle into this feeling that he's being the big grand hero he's always believed he was destined for. The other Jedi tend to see this as really really far from what being a Jedi is all ABOUT, but Anakin DOESN'T because this is what he's always wanted being a Jedi to look like. This is why, when Tarkin claims the Jedi are being too soft during battles, it's Ahsoka and Obi-Wan who push back on that idea while Anakin actually agrees with it.

For three, there is NO INDICATION that Anakin never spent time around Jedi younglings ever. In fact, there's the OPPOSITE indication in canon, that Anakin already DOES spend enough time around the younglings for them to recognize him immediately and know him by name. There's thousands of Jedi, it wouldn't have been shocking if that one little youngling in the Council chambers didn't know who Anakin was when he walked in and just recognized that he was wearing Jedi clothing. But he doesn't. He addresses Anakin BY NAME. As I mentioned earlier, the Jedi appear to raise their children communally, so it would make a lot of sense that Anakin likely DID have to spend some time with the younglings every so often. Ahsoka herself is put in charge of a group of younglings going to Ilum to get their first kyber crystal when she's only 15ish years old, despite being a padawan who is assigned to a front lines battalion in the middle of a galactic civil war. You can make a REALLY easy assumption that at bare minimum, Anakin has probably had to take at least one group of younglings to Ilum by himself. But it's much more likely that he's had to do far more than that and interact with them somewhat regularly.

For four, there's actually canonical proof that handing Anakin responsibility of a child would never have saved him. Because Anakin is canonically handed responsibility of a child and it doesn't save him. Granted the child is like 14 years old when he is given responsibility of her, but it still involves having someone who looks up to him, someone whose future depends upon him, and someone he has to learn how to let go of eventually. And look what happens when she decides to walk away from the Order, look how well he reacts to that. Look at what happens to her when Padme's life is threatened and Anakin decides to throw everything away for a chance at power. Being given responsibility of a child didn't help him, it didn't save him, it didn't allow him to learn how to let go of ANYTHING.

For five, this completely ignores that the one thing that truly fucks up Anakin is proximity to Palpatine. If your argument is that Anakin should've spent MORE TIME sitting on Coruscant rather than going out in the galaxy, then this just makes him EVEN MORE vulnerable to Palpatine than he is in canon because now he's even more available. Palpatine can pop over to see him, he can ask Anakin to come talk to him and chances are pretty good that Anakin's around. The ONLY real way to "save" Anakin from going dark is to somehow completely remove Palpatine from the equation. The reason Anakin falls has NOTHING TO DO with whether he gets to take care of kids or not, it has nothing to do with how the Jedi taught him their values, or WHO taught Anakin the Jedi's values. There is nothing the Jedi could've truly changed about their culture or their approach to training Anakin that would've saved him. The assumption that they could've just moves the blame from Palpatine and Anakin to the Jedi themselves instead of recognizing the Jedi as the victims of Palpatine and Anakin's choices.

And finally, you've kind-of missed the entire argument being made in this post about Anakin. The argument isn't "Anakin would've been better off as a different kind of Jedi" but "Anakin SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN A JEDI AT ALL." Now, if we set aside the problem of Palpatine entirely, the best environment for Anakin to grow up in likely would've been one that was more akin to a traditional family structure, preferably a set of parents who didn't already have children so he didn't have to feel like he needed to compete for affection. I DO think that Anakin could've learned a lot from the Jedi if Palpatine's influence were removed, but I also think that what he learned from them would ultimately help him to recognize that he didn't WANT to be a Jedi and that this life didn't truly make him happy. I think the Jedi's way of life was already perfectly set to help him overcome a lot of his traumas from childhood and lead a healthier life, but he was never going to make a good Jedi, no matter what kind of Jedi he tried to be, because the kinds of things Anakin generally wants AREN'T the kinds of things that the Jedi lifestyle allows for.

The whole metaphor with the kudzu and the goats is that Anakin DOES NOT BELONG IN THE JEDI ORDER, and he needs to be REMOVED from that environment in order to be somewhere where he doesn't harm others just by existing. It isn't the ENVIRONMENT'S fault that Anakin doesn't fit into it, and changing the environment itself doesn't change the fact that Anakin is a harmful presence in it. The kudzu also cannot be changed to be something that DOES fit into the environment without harm, it will ALWAYS be harmful, there's nothing to introduce into the environment that magically changes the kudzu into a non-harmful non-native plant. It's always going to be invasive and harmful until it's completely removed.

Anakin Skywalker was an invasive species in the Jedi. He was introduced to the environment by Qui-Gon and the Jedi tried everything they could to co-exist with him but Anakin just didn't want to co-exist, he wanted to take over, he wanted to be the BEST. And when the Jedi couldn't give him what he wanted, he destroyed them to make room for his own selfish desires.

Luke might be a non-native species on Tatooine, but his father was a an invasive species in every environment he inhabited and a parasite in every relationship he was in, so I think Luke's doing just fine quite honestly.

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

yes situationship w katsuki!!!!

Situationship with Bakugo Headcanons

(a.k.a. the slowest slow burn of your life because this man is emotionally constipated but obsessed with you)

Denial, Denial, Denial Bakugo refuses to acknowledge that you two are in a situationship. He’ll scoff and say, "Tch, we’re just close, dumbass," while literally walking you to class, bringing you your favorite snacks, and giving you his hoodie when you complain about the AC.

Acts Like Your Boyfriend, But Won’t Admit It Will glare at any guy who flirts with you. Will put his arm around your chair when someone’s getting too close. But if you call him out on it, he just grumbles.

"You hungry?" Instead of asking you on actual dates, he just texts "You hungry?" and drags you to eat with him. Bonus points if it’s late at night and you’re in sweats—he thinks it’s cute but would rather die than say it.

Touch Starved but in Denial Will casually touch you—a hand on your lower back when guiding you somewhere, knee brushing yours under the desk, a firm grip on your wrist when dragging you along. If you pull away just to tease him, he gets irrationally annoyed.

He’s Always Looking for You He won’t admit it, but his eyes always scan the room for you first. If you’re not in class, he notices. If you’re not at lunch, he’s grumbling under his breath, acting like he doesn’t care.

Gets Jealous but Won’t Say It If someone makes you laugh a little too much, he’ll suddenly get so irritated. Will probably glare at them and then pull you away. Who does that extra even think he is, anyways?

Would Kill for You, But Casually If someone ever disrespects you, he’s already rolling up his sleeves. "I'll blow their ass to America, or you wanna handle it first?"

Sleeps Better When You’re Around If you ever fall asleep next to him, even if it’s just leaning against his shoulder during a movie, he’s so still, afraid to move. And if you ever sleep in his bed? He pretends it’s annoying but sleeps like a baby that night.

He’s Down Bad, But Clueless Kirishima and Kaminari constantly tease him about how obvious his feelings are. He just scowls and says, "Piss off. We’re not dating." But if you so much as look at someone else for too long? He’s about ready to combust.

The Final Straw One day, after months of dancing around each other, you tease him: "What, do you actually like me or something?" expecting his usual 'Tch, in your dreams' response. But instead, he just stares at you, jaw clenched, eyes burning—before grabbing your wrist and muttering, "Yeah. I do. So what?" And that’s when the situationship ends—because now, it’s real.

[ceresun]

hii queen i suck ass at creativity but i was wondering if u'd write some daeho hc's abt him and reader in the games tg? like maybe they dated before or smth but rekindle in the games? probably like angst ig or wtv 🙏

(i'm sorry i suck at writing requests 😣)

traces lost to time

pairing : kang daeho x gender neutral! reader

summary : Aware of those who had people they loved participating in these death games, he felt quite bad for them. But never once did he think he’d have to experience their reality of constant worry. At least not up until you show up.

extra : hai nonnie! thank you sososo much for the request :3!! ajebfkwbdka hopefully you like it!! I can feel like I wrote way more than just hcs but whatever.. daeho may be ooc ergh. this isn’t proofread and I’m bad at angst sorryz

⟢ A relationship with Daeho would have to be a strong one before he can think about someone in a romantic sense, so I see this being a childhood friends to lovers situation. Being this close with him means he’d naturally feel like he could tell you anything without any fear of judgement from you. Yet, this still didn’t stop him from keeping parts of himself hidden. This is genuinely one of the only reasons I can see a relationship with Daeho going downhill.

⟢ His father was always a traditional one. The constant reprimands of never being “a real man” and being too soft weren’t ones Daeho was unfamiliar with. Being childhood friends with him, you knew what his father was like. The younger you didn’t put much thought into his words, yet still comforted Daeho when he was visibly upset by his fathers words. But as you grew older and the times his father reprimanded him grew, you found it difficult to ignore how Daeho would get quieter and the way he’d try to stop his eyes from tearing up.

⟢ After his time in the marines, you couldn’t stop but notice the little difference in him. The way he’d tense up slightly when hearing a loud noise before going back to doing what he had been doing, or the way you’d wake up at random times in the night to hear his muffled cries, only stopping himself when he heard your shuffles. He had never been one to do those things, at least not before his time in the marines.

⟢ You, being Daeho’s closest friend and partner, would want to get him to open up with you about how he truly feels. Yet you’d only be faced with rejection. He didn’t necessarily mean to block you out, but he couldn’t stand to face you during this low period in his life. Thus causing you to leave.

⟢ At this point, Daeho kind of knew he had screwed up. It only hit him hard when he was able to regain some stability in his life. You were essentially his anchor yet he was still drifting and lost at sea. Following this, his life slowly starts getting worse and worse. He starts racking up a debt that he isn’t able to pay back. So, when a man comes up to him and offers him the ability to earn money while seemingly only having to play simple games, he takes him up on his offer.

⟢ It isn’t until everyone is waiting for the first game to start when he finally sees you. It’s been quite a while since he’s seen you, so he hesitates to come up and talk to you. It isn’t until he hears you talk to the woman next to you that he realizes it actually is you. He only gets to walk to where you stood before the games abruptly start. When people start getting killed, his first thought isn’t his safety, but instead yours. When gi-hun advises people to get behind those bigger than them he immediately pulls you behind him. It’s the first time you’ve seen him since you’d left, so seeing him shocked you quite a bit. As soon as you two cross that finish line he is all over you and making sure you weren’t hurt in any way. You have to practically yell at him to get his attention.

⟢ From there on, you’re not leaving his sight for even a second. Don't even think about trying to join a team without him because he will not let you. It’s not a want to have control over you but instead a fear of losing you that makes him like this. He tries his absolute hardest to make sure the both of you make it out of these games alive, yet it still wasn’t enough. During mingle, as soon as the number is called your group starts running towards a vacant room. In the midst of all the chaos, someone had pushed you out of the way in order to secure a spot themselves.

⟢ You had only a couple seconds left as you got up and ran towards the door. It wasn’t until the door had locked when Daeho realized you weren’t in the room with them. He didn’t exactly know what he felt at that moment. It was a big mix of anger, hurt, and emptiness. This would be one just one of the things that’d cause him to spiral. You best believe he is going insane on the person who had pushed you. He wouldn’t kill them, just beat them hard.

⟢ He’d ultimately be determined to make it out of the games alive for both of you. One of his biggest regrets is never really making up for what had happened between you two. He’ll never truly be able to get that closure. But there’s nothing he can do now.

© ceresun >ᴗ< -> my works are not to be translated or reposted without permission!

[morikosa]

Not sure if I sent this already, but can I get teacher Gojo comforting a chubby student reader because she thinks she's unattractive and so he fucks her until she's convinced she's pretty?

Today was your day off, and Gojo wanted to take you shopping and out to spend time. The food part wasn't bad, of course, but you hated the clothes part.

You weren't very fat, of course, you were just a little chubby and insecure about it. Why was he with you when there were so many beautiful girls around?

It was a nightmare for you. You've been to many stores, but you really couldn't find an outfit that looks good on you or fits you perfectly. God, you wanted to cry. You chose a pair of lingerie for your last try. It was a blue color piece.

Gojo was sitting on the seat in front of the trial cabin, waiting for you with a smile on his face.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and your eyes filled with tears. This one wasn't too bad, but it was tight. You wiped your tears with one hand, and you walked out of the cabin with a deep, shaky breath. You wrapped your arms around your body

''W-what do you think?''

His eyes dilated under the blindfold. God, did you have to be this hot? He was hard the moment you walked out of the trial cabin in that outfit… and you don't think you're beautiful.

God, he could fuck you right now.

And he will.

''What do I think, hmm?… How about I show you this, baby?''

He stood up and pushed you into the trial cabin, closing the curtain behind him, and pressed you against the wall of the cramped trial cabin, his muscular body pinning your soft, plump one. One large hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his intense, lust-filled gaze.

"God, you are so sexy…" he purred, thumb brushing over your plump bottom lip. "No more of those sad tears, understand? You look fucking stunning in this lingerie. Like a goddamn wet dream come to life."

His other hand slid down to grope your plush ass, squeezing the supple flesh and pulling your hips flush against his straining erection.

"Feel what you do to me, princess? Feel how hard you make your sensei?" he said, grinding his clothed cock against you. 

"I'm not going anywhere until I've had my fill of this sexy little body. Now be a good girl and let sensei fuck you real good, yeah?"

''B-But we are in the-mph-!''

Without waiting for a response, he crashed his lips against yours in a deep kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim every inch of you. His hands roamed your curves greedily, groping and squeezing your soft tits, your ass, anywhere he could reach as he rutted against you like an animal in heat.

His intense blue gaze raked over your trembling form as he advanced on you, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Nowhere to run now, princess," he purred darkly, backing you up against the wall until she was trapped between the cold surface and his hard, muscular body. "Sensei is going to take real good care of you in here.''

His large, calloused hands slid up your bare thighs, pushing up the short skirt of the lingerie. They dipped beneath the lacy fabric to grope the soft, plush flesh of your ass, squeezing and kneading the supple cheeks.

"Fuck, this ass is perfect," he groaned, giving it a sharp smack. "Gonna leave handprints all over this sexy bubble butt."

One hand moved around to slip between your legs, thick fingers pushing your panties aside to rub at your dripping slit. He could feel how wet she already was, how your pussy clenched and fluttered around his invading touch.

''A-ah~ S-sensei, please s-stop-nh~ Someone might see us~'' Gojo just chuckled darkly at your nervous protest, fingers still pumping steadily in and out of your soaked, gripping cunt. He leaned in close, breath hot against your ear as he growled,

"Who gives a fuck what anyone sees?."

To emphasize his point, he grabbed your plush thigh and lifted it to wrap around his hip, opening you up even more to his hungry touch. His other hand slid under your top to roughly grope and squeeze your tits, tweaking your hardened nipples between his fingers.

He captured your lips in another kiss, swallowing down your cute, needy whimpers and cries. Breaking away, he demanded loudly enough to be heard through the thin walls,

"Just take what sensei gonna give you, little girl. Gonna ruin this tight cunt so good~."

He grinned wickedly and undid his belt and shoved his pants down just enough to pull out his massive, throbbing cock. The thick head flared against your small entrance as he notched himself in position, the fat crown already drooling pre-cum onto your folds. Without wasting time, he shoves his cock to the hilt. You wrap your arms around the neck.

''Ah~hah~''

Gojo held you close as he rocked into you again and again, his strong arms gently cradling your soft curves. He bowed his head to nuzzle into your delicate neck, lips brushing against your racing pulse as he panted hotly in your ear.

"What a good girl you are" he praised, voice a low, approving rumble. "You're being such a good little girl for your daddy, taking this big cock so well. Fuck, your hungry little cunt feels incredible squeezing me like this."

He rolled his hips in a steady rhythm, the thick length of him stretching and filling you in a way that had you seeing stars. One hand slid down to rub slow circles over your sensitive clit, making your petite body clench and shudder.

"That's it, baby, fucking moan for me. Wanna hear those sexy noises while I breed this prime little pussy. Gonna pump you so full of cum, watch this flat tummy swell up with my baby."

Gojo pulled back a bit to admire your small body as it bounced gently with each forceful thrust. His intense blue gaze raked over your big tits, the way the lingerie had ridden up to put them on lewd display. He licked his lips hungrily.

"Look at these tits, baby, fuck. Perfect handfuls. Like a stress ball." He leaned down to capture one rosy peak between his teeth, suckling greedily as he continued his relentless pistoning into your clutching heat. The wet sounds of their coupling filled the small space, punctuated by Gojo's grunts and groans of pleasure.

Gojo grunted and shuddered as his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave, painting your clenching walls white with his thick, hot seed. He held you close, arms tightening around your small, quivering from

Your legs still around his waist and your arms around his neck. His cock is still throbbing inside you. After a few minutes, you ask nervously

''D-do you really think I'm beautiful, sensei…?''

Gojo leaned back to cup your face in his large hands. His intense blue gaze roamed over your flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, and glazed with satisfaction. A slow, wicked grin spread across his handsome face as he murmured,

"Beautiful? Baby girl, you're a goddamn vision. The most gorgeous creature I've ever laid eyes on."

Nudging your nose with his own, Gojo captured your puffy lips in a deep, sensual kiss, pouring all his lust and desire into the intimate embrace.

''I love you more than anything, my dear. You are my everything.'' After breaking the kiss, he whispers breathlessly.

You were drowned with emotions… your lips were shaking. ''*hic* I-I love you too, 'Toru-sensei… You are so-''

Your eyes widened when you heard footsteps approaching. Unlike you, he grinned and giggled, shaking his head when he heard those voices. ''I guess we need to get dressed now, don't we, baby girl~?

[billysgirllol]

“well, there’s bad people everywhere. even in the sea. there’s sweet mermaids who wouldn’t hurt a shrimp. and there’s some not so good mermaids who could be capable of doing so.” the brunette replies, shaking her head before wiggling her nose as his finger trailing down the slope tickles and causes her to laugh. watching him scoop water over her pretend injury, rainmist laughs again. “are all humans as curious as you?” smiling endearingly, she’d definitely find it super cute if she were a real mermaid. she finds it that way even as a human. “hmmm, for good measure you say?” tapping her chin, brow raises, “okay, if you think it needs it.” smiling in amusement, turning her head to cover her mouth as the laughter spills over. he just wants to do it again for some reason. “you don’t need it…your heart’s royal enough. that makes you a prince in my eyes.” the brunette beams, speaking affectionately. unsure if that’s her mermaid character or herself speaking at this point… oh, it’s definitely both. her cheeks flushing under the late spring sun, butterflies scattering in her chest frantically at their hands and fingers touching. what’s happening and what does she do with this scary feeling? looking at his eyes, she’s masking how badly she wants to look AWAY with a grin and laughter escaping despite the shyness welling in her fawn gaze. the feeling in her chest makes her feel like she’s about to faint. she’s not supposed to really feel these feelings of affection towards him… so fast. and oddly, there’s a grand parallel in it. rainmist has met tristan in a few minutes. and she, lucy gray, has met billy in only a day and it feels like she has known him for a life time. that’s what’s scary about it… because how does someone feel that way? truly? about another human all that quickly. isn’t her mind only playing tricks? maybe she’s just desperate to be loved? maybe he’s desperate to be loved. she’s in disbelief that that’s how soulmates work, when she’s the number one believer in soulmates which doesn’t make sense. convincing herself her mind is just clouded by how he saved her, is honest, and a gentleman and not the callous person she was originally scared of him being. but it’s so intense, it nearly makes her nauseous and feel like tearing away from him and running to put at least twenty feet between them. “that’s my secret… i am a princess. i needed my prince. and— you showed, helped my tail and saved me from getting hurt under that ship.” squeezing his hands, one hand lets go to wrap her arm around his neck, hugging him again for really saving her earlier.

"you believe so? that's very rare...to meet such a considerate human. that cares for mermaids like we are just people too." lucy gray speaks fondly as rainmist, trying not to laugh as lucy gray at his funny look she receives when he looks at her that way. "you sound passionate. i'm... well, i am shocked. especially for a pirate." a gasp escapes, hand covering her mouth. a pirate? they're usually the prime suspects in being cruel to mermaids for a reward. "that's a nice name tristan, i'm rainmist...and..." laughter starts to escape, throwing her head back briefly. she has to laugh at how adorable and timid he looks for some reason pecking her knee. "i'm sorry for my laughter. it just means... it means it's healing!" rainmist perks up, sitting up straight and flipping her 'tail' aka her legs pressed together up and down. "it feels good as new! you fixed it! and you saved me. you must not be just any captain of a pirate ship... you must be my pirate prince." beaming at him, having the time of her life having childlike fun like this, grabbing his hands and slipping her fingers through the spaces. "you really are the sweetest pirate in all the land, you've just proved it!"

[snoopyhq]

Jealous viktor + reader 🙏

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ so with my best, my very best, i set you free

(i love laufey 🗣️ her cover of "i wish you love" with the icelandic orchestra? 2:49 of heaven)

type: viktor x reader

summary: headcanons and a drabble of jealous viktor. headcanons are pre-relationship, the drabble is the established relationship ✪ ꨄ︎

word count: 2415

a/n: OMG FIRST ASK I'M SO HONORED I'M SO EXCITED YIPPEE !!! will be working on the others whenever i have the time, but TRUST i am plotting and scheming <3 any other askers, feel free to drop by! i hope i did your request justice, dear anon.

It was unfair to you, and to him, in his most miserable moments of pure self-pity

Viktor envied those who were healthy. He wished he wasn't born with the circumstances he was dealt. He would trade anything to spend one day with a respiratory system that didn't choke him from the inside out every time he took a breath

He was jealous of you, initially, when you first met

You seemed to have it so easy

Easy laughter, easy conversation, easy friends. You had an established life, you were loved, and you held yourself together with such ease that he sometimes wonders how much you're really holding back

He feels bad for assuming you were dealing with awful problems. But it was very likely. I mean, who was truly that... happy? Well off? At ease with themself and their role in the world? He was probably projecting

And then you somehow, by all the miracles a human could possibly be granted, managed to worm your way into his life and secure yourself there too

Viktor vehemently rejected you at first. He was much like a stray cat. You just gotta continuously give them love on their own terms, and often times, it was slow, and that concept applied to Viktor too

It started with small things. Brief greetings where you called him by name

"Good morning, Viktor."

"Nice to see you here today, Viktor."

"Viktor, you have a good night ok? Get home safe."

Including him in conversations. Commentary about how you two just happened to be in the same place at the same time. The library, a cafe, randomly in the middle of a bustling street

You always had that breezy way of acknowledging things. What a nice coincidence. It was all genuine

You were pleased to be surprised by his presence

Wordlessly holding the door for him, even if you really didn't have to wait. But it was never a big deal, so

He pushed it away. Brushed it off, and tried to forget about it, but those little moments kept circling through his mind like an irritating tape he couldn't dislodge from the disc player, and turning the TV off wasn't doing shit when those scenes were basically burned onto the screen

Like the natural progression of the lunar cycle, Viktor found himself unconsciously expecting you in his life

He can't remember a time when you weren't

Your greetings, your little gestures of kindness, that skill of small talk that meant so, so much to him were cherished like an altar of worship

While he was in no way, shape, or form completely opening himself up to befriending any more people, he began to feel much more natural with you and others you gave your time to

Which brought him to his current bit of emotional turbulence

That prickling in his chest whenever he saw you with other people, giving them your precious words and quality time? Yeah, he shouldn't be feeling this

You were allowed to have other friends! You had people in your life before him, and it doesn't mean you consider him any less just because you spent a moment or two with someone else!

He would tighten his grip on his cane, those mantras feverishly chanting in his mind as he walked in circles, attempting to reign his emotions into a more rational state

He had no right to feel jealous like this, but he couldn't help it

Jayce was his only real companion before, and now that he was a council member, he had less time for Viktor. He had the city to nurture and shape, a big responsibility. The loneliness of the lab was barely a noticeable shift from before

Now, you arrived as if by careless chance, giving him another glimpse, another hit of company, and it was maddeningly cruel to have those doses be in such short time frames

He was given what he needed and wanted, but never fully

Accepting that reality was going to be harder than accepting you truly wishing to be around him, in all his sardonic glory, his blunt nature that had most other people walking away. Just not you

To grapple with this selfish desire was humiliating

He was fully aware of how innately human it all was. If only it were easier. Someday.

For now, he would wait and bask in all the attention and friendship you offered him so willingly

You stood in front of your mirror, going over your carefully put together look one last time. You wanted to look good, and having the outfit fall into place like how you planned it in your head always gave you an extra boost of happiness before you left the house. Straightening the collar of your top one last time, you were finally satisfied.

Viktor was waiting for you in the living room. He stood up when you finally appeared, greeting you with a kiss to your cheek and a murmured "You look enchanting, as always."

You laughed and hugged him.

"And you're dashing, as per usual."

With your arm linked through his, the two of you went on your way. He had planned the date tonight. The winding route led to the sparkling, five-tiered fountain that marked the center of the shopping fair. The flowing water sparkled and danced beneath the fairy lights strung through the evergreens surrounding the space, and orchestral music floated up from where the quintet performed.

You two often went here after a long, stressful week, dining at one of the outdoor tables and idly chatting before hitting a couple stores. Most of the time, it would be the bookshop, the local woodcarver, and then the bakery. You had made it a tradition to buy one another a sweet treat, and it was always a delight to see if your guesses of enjoyment would be met or not.

There was certainly not a lack of other people around you, many of whom were also hand in hand. The center was a popular spot for local students and couples to unwind and spend time together.

When you both had your fill of sights and perusing your respective comforts, you made your way back to the fountain. The musicians had struck up a lively waltz, and many were dancing along now. Both of you shared a look, and moved to join in, albeit towards the edge of the crowds.

Dancing with Viktor was one of your favorite activities. He moved with such assuredness and care for your space, making him all the more captivating in his graces. The respectful placement of his hand on your waist, never going too far and risking your discomfort in public, and never straying away lest he appeared bored, Viktor made sure you were his priority.

After the song concluded, you spun Viktor around slowly to the rhythm of the music drawing to a close, dipping him into a kiss during the final note.

His cheeks were slightly flushed, both from the exertion and from your affection.

"I'm going to grab a drink. We can head home after, if you'd like," you told him, head leaning on his shoulder as he walked with you back up the steps.

"That's perfectly fine. I can hold your bag while you do that."

Oh, Viktor. Ever the gentleman.

You went inside the establishment, and ordered yourself a shirley temple with sweet cream, fully planning to share with him. You knew he had a penchant for the more saccharine in terms of taste. While you waited to order, another patron joined you after placing their order.

"Busy place tonight, isn't it?" they commented.

You turned your attention to them, surprised a stranger was making conversation with you, but you didn't mind. All harmless small talk, after all. You would be leaving soon anyways when your order was finished, so why not pass the time with pleasantries?

"It's one of the most popular cafes around here," you replied. "Friday nights always means live music, so people love to flock here. I should know. I frequent here often." you finished with a smile, and received one in return.

They continued engaging you in conversation, and you soon realized it was taking a bit for your drink. A shirley temple wasn't complicated, and you were worried something was wrong. Maybe they were short-staffed tonight? Did an accident occur in the back?

"Are you worried about your drink?"

"No, not really. More so the workers here," you were honest. Some of them were fellow students you see at the academy, and others knew you as a regular, and you had grown quite fond of the staff as they were of you.

"That's a surprise. You're very sweet."

Their order quickly arrived, and they bid you farewell before departing into the night. You walked up to the counter, asking if everyone was ok. The barista reassured you, saying it was only going to take a little while, and that everything is alright now. Relieved, you went back to your perch.

Outside, Viktor was waiting anxiously. This was taking a lot longer than he had anticipated.

When someone emerged from the cafe, he was tempted to get up and ask them if they'd seen you in there.

Yes, my partner. About this tall, very beautiful eyes, a smile you can't miss. Have you seen...?

God. He was contemplating approaching a stranger just to inquire about you. Luckily (or was it?) for him, they must've sensed him sneaking glances at the cafe and at them, because they approached him cheerily.

"You look a little lost. Need some help?" they asked.

"Oh, it's alright. I'm just waiting for someone."

At that, they perked up.

"It wouldn't happen to be someone wearing the same colored blouse as your vest would it?"

Yes. It was. He confirmed it.

"That's perfect actually! I was just talking to them, and since you know them, do you think they would be interested in exchanging contact information with me? They were quite lovely company, and I wouldn't mind getting to know them better."

Viktor could feel his heart drop and the temperature in his soul rise several degrees. What was going on? Where were you? What had happened in those minutes that you were gone?

"I will... ask them," he attempted to keep his tone even. "Mind giving me your contact information to pass along?"

The stranger happily handed Viktor a piece of paper, their messy scrawl sending a sting of irritation through him. That penmanship was not worthy of you, and would certainly not compare to the intricate scripting of his own handwritten notes and letters to you.

When you finally rejoined him, you could tell immediately something was off. You questioned him about it, and he huffed, telling you not to worry about it as you walked home. He didn't even pay any mind to the bag that hung on your arm, too caught up in his insecurities and worries.

That stranger was so much like you. So approachable. Good conversationalist. He couldn't help but imagine a scenario of you two getting along a little too well, and that made something deep inside him hurt. Clearly, he wasn't as good as keeping his thoughts off his face as he believed, or you had simply gotten better at understanding him, because you promptly asked him again.

"Come on, Viktor. Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?"

"If you knew the full extent of what I'm thinking of, you wouldn't be so quick to call my mind beautiful," he grumbled tersely.

"You can't judge my reaction for me. Spill."

He bit the inside of his cheek. Finally, he confessed. It felt like ripping out stitches from his tongue.

"... someone at the coffee shop. They asked me if I knew you, and then asked if you would be interested in their contact information."

At that, you raised an incredulous eyebrow. Ah. You were blissfully oblivious of the jarring events.

"Viktor, I promise nothing is wrong. We were both waiting for our drinks, and they happened to be making small talk with me. That's all. I love you with my whole heart, and no one else can ever--will not ever--compare."

His heart fluttered. He knew that was the realistic truth, but it was nice to hear reassurance from you anyways.

"You mean it?" he asked.

"I mean it," you said sincerely.

Setting your bags and drink on the nearby bench, you swept him into your arms and twirled him around beneath the streetlight's warm glow.

"I love you," you declared, hands holding his face tightly. Your thumb brushed against the beauty mark above his lip. "And if you ever need reminders of that, you tell me immediately. I will literally drop everything and make sure your doubt disappears completely for as long as I can hold it back."

He gazed into your eyes, his own now slightly misted. Their glossiness reflected warmth and adoration as he took in your face. Seeing the conviction there did something to him. He didn't know what, but he found himself giving in to the urge to just close the distance and kiss you right then and there, open street be damned.

It began to snow. He only realized when he parted from you, the taste of your chapstick still lingering. He looked up, watching the delicate flakes be illuminated by the warm, golden glow. If there was a visualization for the love he felt, it would be that he decided. It all just built and built from all the little things, and filled him with such life it almost hurt.

"We should go home," he whispered, looking back at you.

"Oh yeah, we should. I was going to tell you!" you gasped, running back for your drink and the bag. "They gave me extra cakes and rolls. The last ones of the specialty desserts before their next seasonal delights, so we can share them." you beamed.

"Really? That's quite generous of them."

He wasn't surprised. You were just so damn lovable. He would give you all the baked goods you desired and more, if only for another smile from you directed at him. His fingers intertwined with yours, fondness consuming him as you chatted about the different flavors of the desserts, which ones you were most excited about, and which ones you think he'd like.

He had to agree with your assessments. A dark chocolate and orange mousse did sound quite appealing for him. He already knew he'd let you have the last bite, regardless.

"Oh, and Viktor?"

"Hmm?"

"You can throw away the contact. I don't need it."

I already have you.

[dailyrothko]

Are you a Mad Men fan? I'm curious what your thoughts are on the Rothko centric episode

Forgive me for being overly digressive about this instead of just simply answering.

I always have a feeling of trepidation when something I love is worked into the popular culture. I think it's a throwback from before the Internet when things felt more precious and personal because they were not as widely distributed. When I was a kid if you had $10 you had one record, if you have $10 now you have the whole history of music on Spotify ( we will temporarily forget that they are destroying the music business and using the money to make robots for the army).

But if you had an Os Mutates or Mulatu Asake record back then chances are you were bringing it from a different country and it was as if you had fetched the sword from the lady of the lake and were bringing it back to the common people. The effort required to be interested in certain things seemed to make them extra special due to your devotion and labor. I think maybe that's why one can feel protective of certain things like "I hope everybody doesn't get into this now and ruin it."

It's actually counterintuitive, but that's sometimes how it works. I loved Ghost World but was nervous that one of my favorite artists Skip James, was a feature of the movie . I thought they might diminish it because it's Hollywood, but actually of course they did a perfect job with it partially because of the director is also a legendary record collector of early music.

All of this is to say that I was pretty worried about how they would treat a Mark Rothko in a main stream television show. But honestly, I think they did a pretty good job. When I finally saw it I thought it was good they used a reproduction of a real painting ( even though someone on Reddit misinformed everybody saying it was invented) . I thought what was good about it is that the reactions of the characters on the show to the painting pretty much track with my experience of people discovering Rothko.

One person thinks it's for the monetary value, another one doesn't understand it and still another person sees something in it that they can't describe. And I thought that was pretty good, I think for a Rothko specifically that's realistic. Also as conservative as the 1950s was, in some ways people were more receptive to new art. The media treated art as something that was culturally important rather than a waste of time and money. Life magazine had a circulation that reached a quarter of the American public and they would have articles on people like Jackson Pollock.

So I thought it was not bad and also so many people who had never heard of Rothko discovered him through the show so that was an accompanying felicity. 

I still find it a little strange the TV is the main communicator of culture but millions of people had never heard Nick Drake until a Volkswagen commercial so I suppose that was a net positive for the world that they did .

[piracytheorist]

I'm rewatching the Yor learning to cook episode and it's just SO fucking good you guys. Not only the episode itself but the way its storyline is presented.

I've seen people react to jokes about Yor's cooking with a "but she's getting better at it!" and while I understand that reaction, the thing is, she doesn't have to get better, and the narrative itself is perfectly fine with her being at best mediocre at cooking. Yor's bad cooking is used to explain her low confidence, but it makes perfect sense when you consider the misogyny in the era she grew up and lives in. But aside from one comment Anya made to deflect, and involuntary reactions to her food that they can't actually help, neither her nor Loid actually judge Yor for her cooking nor do they demand more from her. It's just accepted that Loid will cook as part of his share of the chores and no-one even spares a second thought about it. In fact, the main reason Yor worried about her skill is because she believed Loid spent an entire day in the bathroom because of the breakfast she made, so she wanted to learn better because she wanted to avoid giving them food poisoning.

Of course, this does tie in with her job, where she's trained to kill in cold blood, and with the world around her, who perceives women not only as less valuable than men but also defines them in strict patriarchal terms, one of which is that the wife cooks and she must do it well too. So even though her bad skills don't worry her too much about her worth, it's unavoidable that it will affect her and I think it's important that the story itself takes that into consideration.

And I just wanna point out how it's actually good that the narrative adds a humorous tone to just how bad her cooking is, because while it does make a reference that her low self confidence is because of the sexism she's faced in her life... the humor isn't sexist. Try and flip the genders here. A story of a straight couple (fake or real married) where the woman cooks well and the man is a horrid cook would make no-one bat an eyelash if it simply poked fun at how bad the man's cooking is. Again, without any comments about the character's worth based on his cooking, just that whenever he's in the kitchen, there's usually a bloodbath one way or another.

It's the same exact presentation with Yor! The narrative takes away gender roles and simply pokes fun at her bad cooking, in the same way stories poke fun at characters failing at any random skill. Like we have the word "himbo" as an affectionate term for a male character who's kind but very stupid but god forbid we love a kind female character who is equally incompetent in something. We only find it sexist because we were also conditioned to think that only women cook well and that it's a woman's responsibility to cook for her family and do it well and as we grew we rejected that expectation. The story actually subverts the sexism of that and it says "Yes this woman's cooking is absolute shit and we love her for that."

And it's all solidified with how the story resolves: Yor makes a good dish, and Loid and Anya praise her for it. But it's not in a "you get a good grade in wife" way, it's a "we appreciate this meal you made for us". Yor feels happy because her creation made them smile. She offered them something that they never demanded of her, and it made them feel good. It's about human connection, all over again, that someone's efforts to offer to their fellow human were rewarded with pride and gratitude. It's especially touching that the dish Yor made was something from her own childhood, something that brought warmth to her too.

It's also important to remember that another motivation in the whole thing is that Yor and Loid want the public to think their marriage is real and not worthy of gossip - which is why Yor mentions that she was worried about getting in trouble in regards to her assassin work; her reason to get into that deal in the first place was for cover for that work. The better and more conventional their presentation, the more solid their cover. That's why she mentions at the end that she feels more confident as the wife and mother of the family; it's the fact that she now has something to use for their cover. Say she's talking with someone and the conversation veers towards cooking. Before, if she was asked about her cooking, she would have to say she doesn't cook or her family hates her cooking, and she would worry about getting judged, like Swan judged her. Or she would have to lie, something we know she's not very good at. Now she can at least say "Oh they love my stew!" as the perfect answer because it's simple, clear and also true. So again there's definitely an element of her confidence being low due to the society's sexist worldview. But in this case it's also, and actually more, her worrying about being reported due to not fulfilling her "gender role" sufficiently.

(anime only fan here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[funky-brainedwhaletransgender]

It’s just a little bit soul crushing when I come across trans men talking about how much they hate men. Apologizing for being one. Like ‘haha I guess I’m a trans man yep that means I, as a man, suck, just like all other men haha feel free to vent your frustrations about the patriarchy at me. I can’t help being a man I hate men why would I choose to be one?’

I remember being there. Hating the gender you belong to is exhausting. It’s worth deconstructing I promise, even just for your wellbeing. Here’s a start:

Manhood isn’t inherently tied to misogyny and violence. Misogyny and violence are choices. Just choices that men are disproportionately conditioned into making. Men can and do rewrite that conditioning all the time. Manhood isn’t the problem. The problems are misogyny and violence. You’re not a bad feminist because you let go of the hate you have for the manness of yourself. Your manness doesn’t make you violent or misogynistic, being violent and misogynistic make you violent and misogynistic make you violent and misogynistic. Testosterone HRT doesn’t turn you into the archetype of male violence. Testosterone isn’t the driving force of misogyny and violence. Do you understand what I’m saying? Misogyny and violence are not inherent and inescapable to anyone, regardless of identity. Being a man doesn’t make you evil.

Treating misogyny and violence as inherent to manhood excuses men for being violent and misogynistic. Accountability is real hard when you consider doing bad things a fundamental nature tied to an identity. If men are sexist, can you blame this man for being sexist? That’s just how men are. Do you see how this is boys will be boys hidden behind a couple layers of pseudo feminism?

I spent years dancing around manhood because I believed the second I labeled myself a man I was the enemy. The number of ways I found to describe my masculine identity that weren’t man. The number of times hearing ‘at least you’re not a man’ set me back. The number of times I came so close to manhood, but ran into an explicitly trans inclusive ‘I hate men’.

I think the best word for how manhood feels to me is settled. Being a man feels like home. Masculinity feels so gentle, in a big ol’ teddy bear sort of way. Growing a beard and letting your little cousin stick flowers in it. Making sure none of my students think it’s okay to make fun of the kid who cries a lot. Answering ‘boys don’t cry’ with ‘I’m a boy, and I cry every single time a dog in a movie is sad’. I want to be so kind. I want to be the man someone chooses to start working on their dog’s fear of men with. I want to be trusted to watch a drink and to walk with people to their cars at night. I want them to find a cure for cat allergies so I can get that patting-tiny-animal-with-hairy-hands gender euphoria without eye irritation. Cardigans and top surgery scars. Wrinkled hands injecting testosterone. My dream life closes on sweet if eccentric old man.

I may have tangented a bit, but just… you don’t have to hate the man part of you. It doesn’t do any good. It’s not a moral responsibility. You can let that go because ‘man’ is just a gender. It isn’t a fundamental evil that exists deep within your being. The only evil masculine urge I’ve ever felt is the desire to wear athletic shorts in the middle of November. You’re not doing anything wrong by existing as a man I swear.

[unknown-cold]

The artist: ( @itshuansart )on Instagram and Twitter/X

I love this so much!! Best art that expresses Caitlyn's sadness and suffering, I really wish I had seen something like this on the show.

I can say that Caitlyn's character is one of the most misunderstood characters ever, that these people see Caitlyn as just an enforcer from Piltover made them not understand her, or rather they don't want to understand her character.

Because it's getting really suspicious, I feel like Caitlyn's hate is more than just a character who did bad things. There are characters who did worse things. Let's take Silco, one of the characters who did the worst things in the entire show, from trying to kill an entire family for control, to flooding his entire population with shimmer and turning some of them into monsters and making children work in dangerous factories, all of this and he didn't get half the hate that Caitlyn did. Silco is a true dictator who didn't care about anyone but himself and his interests and his intentions were always evil. Unlike Caitlyn, she tried in the end to fix her mistakes and admitted her mistakes too. And to everyone says she is evil or dictatorial because she used gas, is it a bad thing yes, but Caitlyn had no evil intentions in using gas, she used Gray to facilitate the capture of Silco's gangs and allies who were basically harming the people of Zaun even the kids as we saw in ep 2 in S2 when Chross's Goons was following Isha, and of course capturing Jinx as well, she did that because it was a less harmful solution than sending armies of enforcers and Noxus men to Zaun, and we saw because she stopped using Gray after she end her mission and failed to capture Jinx. If Caitlyn was really evil and dictatorial as some people claim, she would have used Gray again to exterminate the people of Zaun, but she didn't do that because that's not her personality that we knew in season 1, and most of the problems that happened were because of Ambessa, and her manipulation and constant incitement for Caitlyn to capture Jinx.

So yeah hating on Caitlyn is so hypocritical and completely unnecessary, seriously I can't believe there are still people who message me and reblog my blogs and not just me but other people saying that Caitlyn is an evil cop and you should stop talking about her and liking her, or you'll be just like her. Are these people crazy or stupid or what exactly!? What does my liking a fictional character have to do with you thinking that I'll be like her in real life!? These people really need to grow up and leave people alone, like if you don't like something and you see someone else like it there's no need to give them your opinion because they won't care and we who like the same thing won't care either so why bother us with your opinion, and then it's selfish of you to want other people to be like you and agree with you (especially when your style of criticism is rude and terrible)

So I always say the show is not black and white, and there isn't only one side good and another side bad. Arcane proves every day that this show is not for everyone and if you want to enjoy it you have to open your mind well and be open-minded, and most importantly put politics and real-life issues aside, and enjoy this fantasy world with flawed characters and good writing. (This show is not designed to solve political issues. At the end of the day it is a show based on a video game)

[koalaflower]

Midnight Love

pair. michael kaiser x fem!reader

genre. angst, smut, ANGST, in that exact order. mention of abuse. desperate, whiny man. mature. brief penetration and fingering. complex situationship. kaiser cries for you.

synopsis. he needs you. irrevocably.

a/n. my stomach was in knots writing this. yes, the title is inspired by girl in red. i like pain and suffering idk. in my mind, kaiser is just a little boy that wants to be loved.

word count. 4.6k

You met Kaiser in a bar late at night. You were busy celebrating a work promotion, and he was there to forget, seeking refuge from his father and his fans. Your paths crossed under the haze of alcohol, stumbling towards each other in a crowd of unfamiliar bodies. He worshipped you, and you held him close, pressing tender kisses onto his skin.

What began as a fling became a regular occurrence.

Once or twice a week, you’d find yourself in his arms. Always late at night and always vanishing by the morning. It was a simple, unspoken arrangement. You didn’t pry into his life, and he didn’t ask for anything more than the solace your touch provided. It was convenient and mutually beneficial. A well-deserved break from reality.

He didn’t need you. You were just another girl. Someone he found during a lonely night. Someone quick and easy.

So why did his heart ache when you called it off? Did you find someone new? Something real? Why did Kaiser, the picture of confidence, a man so callous and detached, find himself grappling with emotions he couldn’t name? You’d given him something he never thought he deserved—a constant love, even if it was physical, even if your kisses were in the heat of the moment.

Your presence filled a void he’d buried for years, and now, without you, he had no one to hold onto. No family to return to, nothing to call home. Kaiser wasn’t supposed to care. And yet, he couldn’t let you go.

The room falls silent when the words leave your lips. The last time. You said this was the last time. Your naked body curled around his, head on his bare chest as a thick blanket covered the mess you two made. But he didn’t feel warm. Not anymore.

“No.”

That’s all he could manage to say, voice lowering to an imperceptible whisper. His fingers tipped your head back to look at him, a glint of desperation in his deep blue eyes.

Your lips part, trapped in his forlorn gaze. You’ve never done anything more than touch, the two of you agreeing to avoid intimate conversations, even if your actions were anything but. Your mouth goes dry, unsure of how to respond.

“What?”

His thumb brushes your cheekbone gently, reverently, as his other hand pulls you closer to him. The desperation was seeping into his voice, despite how deep and composed it was. He couldn't let go of you. He couldn't let you slip through his fingers and end up in the arms of another man. He needed you.

“Don't leave,” he says, swiping his thumb over your lips, still swollen and rosy from his love.

“Kaiser,” you whisper, taken aback by the emotion in his voice, the way his lips quiver and eyes threaten to spill. “Our relationship isn’t professional. I don’t need it anymore. Not like I used to.”

You don’t need it anymore. You don’t need him anymore.

The words felt like a slap to his face, and it stung. You were going to leave him because of your pride and professionalism. He was ready to beg and plead for you to stay, throw away all his dignity and sink down to his knees. He would bring you pleasure again, to prove his worth, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Instead, his thumb continues to trace circles on your skin, feeling the way goosebumps prickle under his touch and how your breath catches for the last time.

“Professional?” he echoes, a quiet, sardonic laugh escaping his lips. That was it? Professional?

“That’s what we agreed to. To.. prevent whatever this is.” Your voice is level, calm. You talk to him like he’s a child that needs lecturing. “I can’t keep meeting you whenever one of us has a bad day. What we’re doing isn’t healthy.”

He wants to grab your shoulders and plead with you, but he doesn’t. Why? Why isn’t it healthy? How, when your presence silences and soothes the thoughts in his mind? When he drops into your arms like he belongs there? Like you’re his home after a long, desolate day.

The pain in his heart is too much to bear, his eyes locked onto yours as he listens to you speak those cruel words. You’re more than a fling, but the words are lodged in his throat. He couldn’t even defend himself, knowing you were right. He never saw you as anything but a convenient escape, someone to warm his bed, yet here he was, begging for more. How pathetic.

“Is that…” He pauses, tongue flicking over his lips. “Is that all I am to you? A fling?”

“That’s what we agreed to be, what you wanted this to be. Until we don’t need it anymore.”

He knows you’re right. He gave you the terms, listed the conditions. He set the boundaries and named the price. He was a fool, for not thinking it would lead to this.

His arm that was wrapped around you tightened, as if his embrace would reason with you and make you stay. His gaze never left yours, the intense blues of his eyes desperate. ‘Stay with me. Come back to me. Look at me like this. Forever,’ they whisper.

“And what if I need this?” He’s aware he sounds like a petulant toddler throwing a tantrum at their favorite toy being taken away, but he doesn’t care. He’s losing you, the only constant in his life, and it’s scaring him. “What if this is the only thing I live for?”

You run your fingers through your hair, an exhausted sigh escaping your lips. It makes his heart wrench because he’s the reason. Yet he can’t help but admire the way you look, skin still littered in his hickeys and hair a wild mess as the covers cling to your frame. You’re covered in his lips but you’re not his, and it’s a tough pill to swallow.

“Kaiser, you’re a celebrity. There’s countless other girls out there. Hell, you have so many fans, so many op—“

“They're not the same,” he says. Stern.

He didn't want any girl. He wanted you. He wanted you in his bed every night, to share whispered words in the dark, the softness of your lips on his. He wanted to feel you next to him, the warmth of your body against his own. No other girl could make his heart race and head spin the way you did. No one else could fill the void within him.

“Don't leave me,” he whispers again, lips tenderly pressed against your neck.

He couldn't believe the words coming from his mouth, the words his pride would have never let him utter.

“What are you saying?” You sit up, looking at him like he’s frail. Fragile.

He slowly sits up as well, the blankets pooling at his waist, leaving his bare chest exposed, blue roses traveling up the length of his arm. His hand reaches for yours, lacing your fingers together. This feels right. He can feel your pulse, the blood thrumming beneath your skin.

“I’m saying I don't want any other girls in my bed,” he murmurs, inhaling your scent. It makes him feel all tingly inside, all warm and fuzzy.

His thumb continues to rub your hand as he waits for you to say something. Anything.

“Only you,” he says.

He brings your intertwined hands up, placing your hand over his heart. He lets you feel how it beats quickly and hard.

He thinks, for a moment, that he’s gotten to you. That you’ll reciprocate. But you just let out a sharp exhale, your hand slipping from his.

He was disappointed with himself. How pathetic could he be? Showing his true self to someone who never saw him as anything more than a convenient body to sleep with. Someone to call when you’re lonely and need a distraction.

“You could've just said no.”

He can't believe that he allowed himself to be so vulnerable just for you to leave him behind. His fingers curl into the sheets as he bites back the pain in his chest. The covers aren’t warm. Not like your hold. They don’t kiss him and breathe life into his body.

“I’m sorry. This was a mistake,” you say, crushing him again. He feels the air drain from his lungs.

A mistake. The word feels like a knife twisting in his chest. A mistake. That's what he was to you. He swallows the lump forming in his throat, the bile threatening to rise.

He thought he had finally found someone who loved him, flaws and all. The way his mother hadn’t, the way his father hadn’t, and the way the world hadn’t. Yet here he is, reliving every rejection he’s ever faced.

He was abandoned. Again. Rejected, cast aside, replaced with someone who could give you what he couldn't.

“I can’t be with you,” you say, like it’s as natural as breathing and he was the one making a big deal out of nothing.

“You’re a celebrity,” you continue. “And I’m not anybody.”

Was that it? Were you scared? Scared of being thrust into the unknown? Scared of leaving everything behind? So many solutions ran through his head, things he wanted to say to convince you to stay, that you were somebody to him. But he stayed silent, foolish, because the finality in your tone was hurting him. His jaw tensed as he fought to keep his composure. He didn't trust himself to speak.

“I shouldn’t have—we shouldn’t have done anything that night,” you whisper. He can’t do anything but watch as you slip out of bed, even though it’s midnight. Even though you had just made love.

He needed an answer. He needed to know why all of this was a mistake, why you wanted to leave him, why he wasn't enough. Why he was never enough.

Not for you. Not for anyone.

“Why?” he asks, his voice weak and cracking. He’s never felt more humiliated in his life.

“I can’t love you.” You don’t even look at him as you speak. His heart shatters, fingers curling in and creasing the sheets. “I can’t possibly love you.”

Why? Why can’t you? He wasn’t asking for anniversaries or gifts or fancy dinner dates. He just wanted you to hug him, kiss his lips, soothe his loneliness like you had been. Only an hour of your day, a quarter of your time. You could set the conditions, you could negotiate the terms. He’d give it all, if only you’ll stay.

“Then why do I love you?”

Silence. The words hang in the air.

He couldn't cry, not now. He couldn’t bear seeing that look of pity on your face.

Kaiser was used to disappointment, used to being abandoned. But he had hope. He had hope that you loved him. Hope that you saw him as he saw you. He was a fool to believe you would love him, too. And now, you were leaving, and he was paying the price for it.

“I’m sorry,” you reply, fingers fumbling with the buttons on your shirt. It was wrinkled, crumpled from the way he slid it off of your body. You were a mess, and now he’s ruined.

“Just go,” he says, tearing his gaze away from you. “Don’t apologize.”

You get dressed, clothes covering all the reminders he’d left of his existence on your body. You spare him one last glance before leaving his condo.

He lays there, in silence, in the bed that still faintly smells like you. No matter how much it hurts. No matter how bad the ache is. He couldn't bring himself to move.

He feels his chest ache in a way he's never felt before. It was agony, pure torture. He never wanted to feel like this again. It was worse than when his mother abandoned him or when his father raised a fist against him. Because at least with you, he had something to lose.

Rejected. Abandoned. Unloved. Again and again. His entire life. He had no one. He was disposable. He wasn't worthy of love. He wasn't worthy of being loved. Not even by you.

The ghost of your touch still tingles on his body. The warmth of your skin against his still sears in his mind. He feels like a fool, an utter, pathetic fool, laying in an empty bed, clinging to a heavy blanket, and wishing it were you.

The season passed by in a blur. The February sky reminded you of his eyes, and the night, the dark highlights in his hair. You can’t ignore the guilt that churns in your stomach whenever his face flashes on television—advertisements, season highlights, news outlets—you couldn’t escape him. You think you imagine the way his laughter fades when the camera pans away from his face, but you don’t give yourself time to think about it, about him, as you switch the TV station. You don’t want to know if he’s hurting or not. His success is intact, and this is for the best.

It'd been a little over a month. A month that felt like a year. His mind was occupied by thoughts of you, consumed with the pain of the loss.

Nothing makes it better. He works day and night. Music, acting, interviews, anything to fill his days and distract himself from this dull ache. But it's all useless.

The tabloids are spiraling with rumors about his love life. New girls occupy the empty side of his bed, yet none of them stay long. They're just random hook ups that fill the void.

Kaiser has been drinking. More than before. Drowning in alcohol as a way to dull his pain. He wants to drink until he can't see. Until he can't think or feel.

So he blames it on the whiskey, when his feet drag him to your place during a particularly lonely night. He’s a drunken mess, broken and shivering, but it’ll all be over once he sees you. The air is crisp, his fingers trembling as he forms a fist and knocks on your door.

He's exhausted. He's miserable. He doesn't know how long it's been. But he can't forget you, can't move on. His mind is clouded with thoughts of you.

It’s 2 in the morning when you open the door, about to tell whoever it is to leave until when you see him. He’s a mess. His eyes are glazed over as he leans against a pillar for support.

“Kaiser?” you ask, eyes wide. You can hardly believe what you’re seeing.

His shirt is halfway unbuttoned, his skin flushed, hair a mess, and his eyes are bloodshot. He can't cope by himself. He needs you. He needs your touch, your voice, and your presence. His heart, which he tried so hard to ignore, thumps hard in his chest, like it’d jump out of his body if you didn’t hold him.

“What—What happened to you..?” The question is so innocent, so simple, that it makes him want to cry, because he knows you know. He knows you’re just denying it, like how he’s denying the way his insides twist just by breathing near you.

He doesn’t resist when you pull him inside. You shut the door behind him in case someone sees you together. A fan, maybe. Or the paparazzi. He didn’t care once he felt your fingers brush against his skin, buttoning his shirt back up. Your brows were knitted in concern, and his fingers itched to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Each graze left behind a trail of heat, a feverish combination of heaven and hell.

He stays still, his eyes fluttering and struggling to stay open, but he feels it. He feels the butterflies in his chest, and the knot in his throat tightens. It's been so long. He had tried so hard to forget you. But he couldn't do it.

“My god. How much did you drink?” You ask, a disapproving, chastising tone in your voice, and he almost smiles. Words that would have annoyed him before, he’s now grateful for. He’s been missing you. It feels so good to see you.

You’re about to slip away from him again, muttering something about a glass of water. It’s all muffled in his ears, blurry in his vision. He holds your wrist, keeps you rooted to the spot, and he doesn’t let go.

His breath smells like alcohol and cigarettes when he kisses you. It burns, singes, scorches even, like you’ve done something forbidden. But neither of you pull away.

He kisses you until his lungs burn. And then he kisses you harder. He’s moving on autopilot, his tongue slipping past your parted lips, seeking you out, seeking your taste, so familiar and engrained into his senses.

He's missed the way he feels when you're right there in front of him, sighing against his lips and tugging his hair. His lips press a trail of sloppy kisses down to your jawline and across your neck. He kisses and bites like he’s trying to devour you, his fingers slipping under the fabric of your shirt to feel your skin.

“Mm… you’re drunk,” you say as you pull away, chest rising and falling as a string of saliva connects your lips. His cheeks are flushed, and your hands are cold.

His voice is low, a mere whisper. And his head is pounding, but he doesn't care. Not right now. Not when he’s so close to you again.

“Don't care,” he replies, kissing your neck once more before lifting his head up to look at you. His mind is a drunken mess, his thoughts running a mile a minute. Everything he wants to say, he can’t.

“This isn’t a good idea.” Your hands cup his face, breaking through the haze of influence when your eyes bore into his. He searches for it, but he can’t see the love reflected back. He can’t, and it hurts all over again.

Just one more night, and maybe he'll sober up. Just one more. That's all he needs. Another night of being able to hold you and hear your soft noises as he makes love to you.

“Kaiser.” His thumb brushes against your cheek. He wants to tell you to stop looking at him like that, with pity and concern. But all that comes out is a soft whisper.

“Please…”

He hates that look in your eyes. He hates how you see him now. Why can't you love him the way you used to? He doesn't deserve your pity. He needs you, and it's killing him that you don't feel the same.

You nod, and the relief breaks through him like a dam. The butterflies, the spark, it’s all there again. His hands move to the back of your thighs, picking you up and carrying you to your bedroom.

He knows this place. He's been here many times before. He’s memorized the portraits, the trinkets, and the decor around your room. He knows how to get to the bed without pulling away from you, his fingers already tugging your shirt up and off. He can't wait to feel everything all over again, can't wait to feel whole, to feel good again.

His kisses travel from your lips down to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin and leaving marks in his wake. His hands move from your waist to the back of your thighs. They wander, memorizing every inch. Remembering.

You moan when he dips a finger into you, and he groans at the sounds tumbling from your lips. He wanted to hear you come undone, wanted you to cry his name, just as you used to.

It’s so easy. To slide another finger in. To curl it against the spot you’re most sensitive. He knows every flutter of your eyes, every buck of your hips as your hands pull him closer.

He’ll take his time to savor the feel of you. Every curve, every dip, every scar, every inch of your perfect body. He wanted to memorize you the way he first did when this all started, so many months ago.

Your legs are tightly wound around him when he pushes the head of his cock inside. He’s gasping, breathing heavily against your skin as your heat welcomes him so readily. Like you were made for him. His head is still fuzzy, but nothing compares to how he feels in this moment.

His fingers dig into your hips, forehead pressing against yours. He can't look at you, not yet. He'll lose himself if he stares into your eyes for too long. He just wants to focus on this, on the warmth of your body against his own.

His eyes open just a little, seeing you, and you look so pretty, so ruined as you gasp and grip at his arms. He almost cums on the spot, with the way your body squeezes around him like a vice. The way you looked and felt and sounded is just like he remembers.

You're ruining him, and he’s letting you.

He knows he can't stay like this forever. He knows this isn't real and he'll have to feel that loss again tomorrow, but for now, for tonight, you’re his.

You beg for him to move faster, and he can't deny you. You, who looks like an angel, cries like a siren, and pulls him in like a vixen. He wants to ruin you the way you're ruining him.

He's a fool. A fool who comes back to you time and time again, who loves you more than you'll ever know. He doesn't stop, no matter how much his chest burns or his head aches.

And then he’s ruined it.

His stupid, drunken self lets the three words slip from his lips, in a moment of passion and lust. He lets them tumble into existence, lets them tear from the depths of his being.

They're drunk and sloppy and inaudible, but you hear them as a muffled groan against your lips. Then he realizes, and time comes to a standstill. His eyes widen, heart thumping against his chest, but he doesn’t feel it. He feels nothing at all.

“I love you,” he said. And he knows he’s ruined it all again.

It’s over. The moment is broken. You heard him, and reality is crashing down.

The words hang in the air between you. He knew he messed up. He was drunk. He didn’t mean to say it, yet here he was, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. Words were stuck in his throat, an apology ready at the tip of his tongue. He waited for you to tell him to leave, but you didn’t.

It hurts more than imaginable when you close your eyes and tell him to keep moving. His lungs burn because you don’t say it back.

His hips rut faster, fingers almost bruising your skin. You cry out and he can feel that you’re close, but it’s not the same as before. You’re tense. You’re pretending. And he knows your thoughts are far from him.

It's wrong. It’s all wrong. Nothing feels as good as it did. He can tell by the way you aren't as responsive to him as before. He tries to get it over with quickly, hoping it'll end soon because it hurts more than helps now.

He wants to feel that same spark of love and passion he’s been craving so badly since you left. He wants it to ignite all those butterflies in his stomach, but he's only left with a hollow ache in his chest.

He needs release, even though it hurts. He can't bring himself to look at you, afraid of the look you're giving him. He wants you to cry his name, but it won't happen. He can tell by the way you're laying. Your body is like a coil, so stiff and wound up.

His thrusts are faster, but you look so detached. Tears slid down his face.

“Why, Y/n?” he asks through grunts and the sound of skin against skin. His breathing grows more ragged as silent tears continue to stain his face.

You close your eyes, unable to look at him. Even as his tears slip onto your skin, even as he kisses your neck.

Kaiser can't bring himself to open his eyes either. He never should've come here, never should've kissed you, never should've let himself get his hopes up.

You both came undone. Your walls are fluttering around him, and his eyes are glued to the way his fluids seeped out of you. You’re both panting, wrapped in a blanket of post-clarity.

He lay beside you, his chest heaving. His vision is blurry, yet he can still see you. He can see that you’re not looking at him, and it only makes him feel worse. He’s fantasized about this since the day you left, and yet here you are, not looking at him. Not speaking to him.

He tries to catch his breath, but every inhale burns like he’s underwater. God, it hurts. His hands curl into fists as he waits for you to do something. Say something.

“…I’ll get you water,” you murmur, standing before slipping out of the room.

His heart sinks the moment you get up. You're right in front of him, yet he feels so far from you. He feels so numb, his hands trembling as every emotion seems to sweep over him at once.

When you return with a white mug in your hands, he’s already dressed. Already stumbling past you and heading for the door.

He needs to get away. He wants to stay forever, but he needs to go. His fingers curl around the handle of your front door.

“Kaiser, wait.”

He freezes, listening. He won’t look back. He can't, or he’ll never find the strength to leave.

“Just… drink this before you go,” you say.

He hesitates, but he couldn't deny you, not even now. His hand releases the door handle, fingers curling around the handle of the cup of water you offered him instead. He doesn't meet your gaze. He has to look down, afraid that he'll do something he'll regret as you button up his crumpled shirt for him.

“Stay.” Your voice is quiet, and he has to strain to hear.

He stills, lips parting. Maybe he heard you wrong. Maybe you meant something else. His mind, despite how cloudy it felt, filled with hope again. Or maybe, just maybe—

“Stay safe.”

Stay safe.

Not stay.

Just stay safe.

You didn't want him to stay. Why would you? You didn't love him.

You look away, leaning against the counter as he gulps down the water like it’ll salvage him.

His grip on the cup tightens, so badly wanting to throw it against the wall. He stays silent, placing the cup down on the counter with a trembling hand.

Your fingers wrap around the ceramic, rinsing it underneath the faucet. He watches as you wash away his touch, his lips, and his love. The way you do so easily since the first night.

He can't look at you as he opens the door and leaves.

He had hope that you’d say it back, that you’d tell him to stay the night. He was naive enough to believe you'd love him too if he’d stayed. No. You just wanted him to stay safe. He was just a drunk hook up to you. Nothing more. Nothing less.

:D

[kawoala]

DRIVEN BY ADRENALINE suna rintarou. epilogue ; one year later.

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২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 (734)

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 (i hate to say it but dba is OVER cries, thank u all for sticking with me through the ups and downs + the inconsistency of my posting + the times when i lowkey gave up, anyway this is the epilogue and it’s basically just fluff, sleepy rin, osamu is into cooking, OMG KITA X RUNA LOWKEY, sorry teruna truthers)

It smells good. Too good for your liking. The aroma filling the house is making you a bit suspicious, because now that you’ve known Runa for so long, you’ve come to know that she can’t cook for the life of her. 

You peak your head around the corner, peering into the kitchen discreetly, and your eyes fall on Kita and Runa standing near the sink, laughing with each other. The sight puts a smile on your face— a good guy in the sea of bad ones Runa has had to deal with in the past year.

Walking back into the living room, you see Atsumu and Osamu sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward to watch a seemingly very close game of volleyball. Aran sits in the chair adjacent to them, laughing at the way the twins’ faces contort with every play. 

You’re proud of the three of them. 

Atsumu has really grown up over the past year. He’s stopped bringing girls home every night, stopped getting into fights for no reason, but he’s still a shit head and he knows it. 

Osamu has started thinking more seriously about opening up a restaurant. You’d begged him to cook dinner tonight, but Kita had refused since it was the twins’ birthday.

And Aran has… Well, he hasn’t really changed. He didn’t need to, though. He was always one of the nice ones. Always wearing a smile on his face, always prepared to do anything for his friends. He gives you a wave as you pass by them and head towards the back bedroom, where Rin is taking a nap.

You stop in the doorway for a long moment, admiring the curve of his face, watching the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the soft snores that he swears aren’t real. He’s pretty all the time, but he’s most pretty like this, you think. Relaxed, the feeling of safety wrapping around him like a warm hug. You take a deep breath before you talk, taking in the scent that you’ve grown so used to. Leather, vanilla, faint lavender. Home.

You take careful steps towards the bed, expertly avoiding the spots that creak. You’ve been in this house almost everyday for the past year now, exploring every nook and cranny, every creak and groan. The bed dips below your wait and Rin shifts a little, turning over on his stomach.

His cheek is pressed against the pillow and you can’t help but jut your bottom lip out in complete adoration. He is definitely the cutest when he’s like this.

“Rin,” you whisper, rubbing a soothing hand in circles on his back. He doesn’t even twitch. “Rin?” It’s a bit louder this time— definitely loud enough to wake someone up. But Rin still doesn’t move. You narrow your eyes and get close to his ear. “Time to wake up!”

He jolts awake and a flurry of giggles escapes you. He looks so frazzled for a moment and it just tickles you. He looks around for a moment, clearly still in his sleepy haze, but then finally lands on you and blinks a few times.

“Hi, Rinnie,” you say, leaning forward to press a kiss onto his forehead. “You were asleep for two hours. Dinner’s almost done. Plus, the twins wanted you to come watch the last set of the Adlers game.”

He hums in response, head falling back down onto the pillow, eyes falling shut again. You shake your head and poke his cheek. “C’mon, Rin. You practically forced me to sit and watch sports with your friends.”

“No, I didn’t,” he mumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes. “You were asleep for a little bit. And then you woke up and left. You could have stayed here with me.” His arm reaches out, wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him. “Could’ve had a nice little nap together.”

Again, you giggle at him. You’ve been doing that a lot more recently— giggling, that is. He just makes you so giddy. “Rin, seriously. Let’s go eat.”

“Five more minutes.”

“Rintarou.”

His head shoots up to look at you, eyes playfully narrowed. You stare at each other for a moment, both of your eyes set in a challenging glare. Eventually, he groans dramatically and drops his face into the bed sheets. “Fine,” he says, muffled by the fabric. “Let’s go, I guess.”

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@sahrii , @cherrysurf , @heartmaddie , @jpegarchives , @vertejay

@tiramizuloz , @gumims , @mybelovedvi , @chaotic-neutral-ig , @usbrous

@iheartamora , @iluv-ace , @xavlyzn , @reocidal , @mysticstrawberryballoon

@h0n3y-l3m0n05 , @aethersluvrr , @smiithys , @rriwyu , @twiishaa

@kissunday , @ilovejeansosomuch , @anqelkoz , @yiooobb37 , @renardiererin

@pookalicious-hq , @sunnyskiezzzz , @sharkissm , @wyrcan , @massacremars

[natsuminmin]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ CHATBOX LOVE -> kenma kozume !!!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NEVER MET! by CMTEN , glitch gum

synopsis; in which kenma is sent into a spiral after seeing a familiar username cw: deff slight angst, discord type-love , usage of baby , erm exes trope , kenma crash out , unproofread + lowercase , implied f!reader but can be interpreted as gn!reader , idk if its ooc but prob eek,

"and even though it's been a week, i still think of your face"

already? wow, a week since you had ended things with kenma. to him, it felt like months. years, even, which was why he decided to stop counting the days.

so imagine his surprise when he had randomly matched up with you in roblox.

he swears it was you, had all the the same numbers in your user, all the same accessories in your avatar.

he just had to type in the chatbox, he didn't care how desperate he sounded, he wants you back:

kod5uken : [baby? baby thats u right? its kenma]

skibidi1234 : [uhhh no sorry dude idk you]

ah. and then skibidi1234 left, probably weirded out. damn it, he was hallucinating now. on top of that, he was stupid enough to say his real name online.

he left the game himself too, closing roblox in a rage. he wanted to sleep, but his puffy eyes and stuffy nose made it hard to do so.

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

barbie : [kenma we need to talk ]

kennie : [what is it]

barbie : [lets break up]

kennie : [oh]

kennie : [okay]

barbie : [im sorry, i cant juggle you and studies]

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

that was the last he's heard from you because you've blocked him on everything. hell, you even blocked him on spotify. he should've listened when everyone told him e-dating was going to ruin him.

but how could he resist? he had fallen in love with you already. you were his perfect partner; games with him (somewhat bad, but you both managed), funny, attractive, his type. it's just unfortunate that you had to live miles away from him.

kenma's done sooo much impulsive things just for you: blew all his money on the latest 2-player game from steam so he could play with you, vc'ed until the latest hours of night just so he could keep talking to you, he even skipped some volleyball practices so he could come home earlier just to see you in a video chat.

ugh, he can't count all the times he's lost his dignity either. he had called you "his barbie" and he called himself ken. oh god, that was probably one of the cringiest things he's said in his life.

and don't even remind him about online karaoke, god knows how much screen records you have of his voice breaking mid-song.

speaking of records, he can't bear to delete all the adorable pictures you sent while updating him about your day. he's always liked seeing what weird and interesting things you've done. but worst of all, he's kept screenshots of every loving and tender message from you that had flustered him (spoiler alert: anything you said made his ears red.)

he opened the album he had moved the screenshots to, scrolling through it until his eyes settled on a certain one:

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

barbie : [baby u live in japan right?]

kennie : [mhm]

barbie : [nice]

barbie : [just wait, im gonna buy tickets to fly there soon]

kennie : [ur crazy]

barbie : [sure yes whatever... i luv u ken :P]

kennie : [i love you too]

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

oh, dear. he can feel tears running down his cheek again. yep, there it was. his recently cleared sinus was blocking up again. damn it, he thought, as he wrapped himself tighter in the sheet. he can't even enjoy playing his games anymore.

kenma still misses you, from the very day you left him. you were his perfect partner, even though you had heartlessly shattered his heart and he would probably never entrust someone with it.

you know what, he'll never respond to some random dm ever again.

unless it was from you, of course.

"it'd be better if we had just never met"

a/n: was a request from two of my dearest friends who suprisingly are kenma luvrs LOL hi guys @rahhhr @terrariumaura also this was a nod to his 2020-self ik this was so cliche and someone has probably done this but i hoped you like my own (short) spin on it guys do uu know the genius that thought of their chat names BECAUSE BECAUSE THE SONG GOES LIKE "REMEMBER WHEN I CALLED YOU MY BARBIE AND I WAS KEN" IT FITS SO WELL BECAUSE KEN-MA okay bye

[livi-in-digital-circus]

TW: SERIOUS THREATS, HARASSMENT, PERSONAL VENT CAUSE I'M AT MY FUCKING LIMIT

Not this shit FUCKING again

I've been investigating this case for some time already and I can provide information regarding (probably not) all of the shitty stuff he have done so far. Let's go:

— defending a blog that romanticizes incest r4pe between Jax and Ragatha (no, he isn't a Bunnydoll shipper, he defended that blog just because he likes r4pe)

— sending death and r4pe threats to TADC content creators and even some random people from the fandom

— harassing Gooseworx in her comments section for literally no reason

— fantasizing about CHILD R4PE, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU---

— trolling people into thinking that popular TADC fancreators are gr00mers/bad people overall by faking screenshots

— harassing artists who do commissions by asking (especially minors) for things they feel uncomfortable with, such as NSFW shit of him and Pomni or/and Ragatha, and then sending them threats because he wants it for free (dude, do you even know how commissions work???)

— misunderstanding allhailthequeenuwu's words just to have an excuse for harassing her, later he exposed her NSFW art on his FAMILY FRIENDLY community

— disrespecting women a lot, most of his threats are directed to women

— being two-faced when it comes to TADC, one time he praises Gooseworx and some other time he says how shitty TADC and Gooseworx are

— hating on ships for no reason, he used to repost some ship arts, but now he despises all of them (but will defend them if there's r4pe, just like he did with the Jax x Ragatha incest blog)

— overusing words like "r4pe", " k1ll", "d3ath" and some racist and trans slurs

— overusing sentences like "you f*cking b*tch k1ll yourself, I hope your dad r4pes you until you bleed to d3ath", even if someone tries to be nice (and I'm not even joking, that's more-less what he says)

— creating multiple accounts on various platforms just to keep harassing his particular victims

— lying about his age all the time, I saw him changing one of his blogs profile multiple times and every time his bio stated different age from 22 to 25

— and now trying to find someone who will hack sm-baby only because people know he harassed them and started to attack him as well

This guy needs a whole ass reality check. He watched shounen animes with OP sigma alpha gigachad protagonists and thinks he's one of them. Also he's terrible at making multi accounts, he overuses icons from shounen mangas and his usernames often have similar numbers at the end, no wonder that people quickly find his new blogs

And you wanna know the reason why he's doing this? Well, he said he wants to r4pe all the women and children because they're worthless and he's the only one who deserves to live in the universe

The only thing you can do to actually shut him up for real and make him leave you alone is to threaten him with the police or drawing him being the victim of the stuff he sends to the others. Some people actually dared to do this and surprisingly it worked. Good job people 👍

Throughout my entire 18 year old life I've been in various fandoms and experienced lots of shitty things. There was spamming heavy gore on unrelated tags on Instagram, accusing people of being gr00mers just to cancel someone, incest shipping wars and threats, etc. and my most personal which is being gr00med by mentally unstable and years older attention seeker, who didn't realize our relationship could count as p3dophilia until they turned 18, at the same time crying like a baby when I said I don't like all of the BDSM stuff they forced me to like WHEN I WAS FUCKING 12. And what's more funny, it was never about p3dophilia, they were so obsessed to the point they harassed me using my weaknesses when I didn't want to be friends with them anymore. When I didn't give a shit about them, they said they still love me, but don't want to be called a p3do. SO 17 YEAR OLD BEING WITH 13 YEAR OLD IS FINE BUT 18 YEAR OLD WITH 14 YEAR OLD IS MORE WRONG??? B U L L S H I T

Yesterday another thing happened when a random 14 year old, who is sooo obsessed with one of my favorite fictional characters, asked her friend to send me a massive hate just because when I was 14 myself I made an OC who's a child of this character and my OC based on me. Luckily I have amazing friends who defended me and kicked this little shit out of our discord server (+ she also used to make fun of me because my PTSD sounds funny, not to mention she often vented on discord and cried because she's s3lf h4rming herself, so what? I was doing this to myself too and somehow I don't laugh at other people's traumas 🤷‍♀️)

Sorry for venting, but seriously, I'm at my fucking limit

BEWARE OF @captain-kopy765

This post is to document and warn those around this user of their toxicity and how they have tried to work someone, who they believed to be a hacker, to delete the socials of @sm-baby and their side blogs. It also appears that they have an obsession with this user as they wanted all the persons socials removed. They have also harassed users for simply disagree with them. I believe that they should be avoided and pushed out of the TADC community and that all admins should kick them from their community. To not clutter anyones desktop all information will be below the cut.

It all started with this post that Kopy has covertly removed from their blog but has been archived here is you need proof of it being real. [https://www.tumblr.com/hushhushyou/770780622075609088/lol-whats-the-tea-for-this?source=share]

Now is the conversation that was had between the user @hushhushyou and Kopy. The first image is to highlight that username and image are the same and give concrete evidence that these messages are real.

From here the images will be cropped for easier reading.

To clarify the user Hush did not hack into any accounts owned by the user SM. Now that is the main point of the beware. The next part will be talking about the toxicity and entitlement of the user Kopy. Starting with a community that Kopy runs. There was this post made -

A hot take but honestly not a big of a deal. Everyone has opinions.

The issue happens after when a user posted this message - this is a screenshot of from the messages we see later but the user claims that they copy and pasted their original response from their reply to this post.

Click to read for better quality.

If you notice the name of the user who posted is named donquixote-dolflamingo this username is Kopy's old user name as show below with a new screenshot that the user took, when I was double checking.

Unlike Hush this user asks to remain anonymous so the name and profile image will be hidden.

Now onto the messages - click for easer readingK

The user has claimed that this interaction has pushed them away from interacting with the community because they fear the rest of thee fandom is more toxic then Kopy. Now I want to share how the user Kopy interacts with their community highlighting how they interact with the community in a way that can be said as rude and toxic. On their own it can be seen as playful. But added to everything here I feel that it adds another insight to their character. Below is the main communities that they are admin to. Incase anyone wants to avoid them.