#it's what he gets for crypto-posting though

[fcble]

FABULIST FILES, 1/? — ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

Fable's AO3 tag currently contains 5,842 fics. The tag was most active from early 2020 to early 2021, when Haksu and Eunsu were engaging in constant fanservice with no heterosexual explanation, to the delight of permanently online Fabulists everywhere. They (mostly Haksu) continue to be among the most popular within the tag.

FILTER BY

As expected, Haksu features as the most popular character and makes an appearances in half of the most popular ships. Other somewhat frequent character appearances include Eden of Neon Nights, usually as Andrew's friend, and Field Day's Dart, usually as Byeonghwi's friend. The most popular alternate universe fics set the group in college/university, given the fact that most of them actually attended university. Like many other fourth gen boy groups, they also have more than their fair share of explicit fics.

NOTABLE FANFICS

The fanfiction with the most kudos is "TIME OF MY (YOUR) LIFE," written by nhys and published over the course of 2022. It gained popularity for its characterization of the Fable members and sense of humor, and for the author's constant promotion of it on Twitter. It spawned a few spin-offs and sequels by the original author and a few others, detailing events of the other years of Byeonghwi's college experience.

One of the most popular fanfics is heartsick's "BETWEEN US," published from mid-2020 to mid-2021. In many online Fabulist circles, it's considered to be one of The (with a capital T) Fable fics. Written and published during 2su's heyday, it continues to be a staple on fic recommendation lists, even if newer fans don't really know who Eunsu is.

Generally considered to be the first Fable fanfiction ever, "TAKE CARE OF THAT SWEET TOOTH" was published on September 23, 2018, a little over a month after the group debuted. Although mostly denounced by the original author as an obvious mischaracterization a few years later, it remains notable for kickstarting the tag.

[angelsuecult]

gold dust woman | s. crosby

"heartless challenge

pick your path and i'll pray"

warnings: explicit sexual content, MDNI, 18+, nsfw, strong language, controversial age gap, father's friend, infidelity.

summary: Two weeks after your encounter with Sidney, he is finally able to give you what you wanted that night.

word count: 10.1k

song: gold dust woman - fleetwood mac

a/n: im going to assume you guys just wanted sidcros porn so i just put as much of it as i could, enjoy and let me know what you think!

previous part | part two

—

It had been two weeks since Sidney had seen you last, two long, agonizing weeks filled with nothing but thoughts of you. Every night, he found himself staring at his phone, scrolling through your social media, looking at pictures of you—ones you’d posted months ago, pictures with your friends, or even a few random ones of you smiling, laughing, or just looking effortlessly beautiful. And even though he didn’t have any social media accounts of his own, that didn’t stop him from searching. He’d found himself palming himself off to the thought of you more times than he’d like to admit, his mind consumed with everything that had happened between you two in his car. The way you’d kissed him, the way you tasted, how soft, pliable you felt under his hands—it was all he could think about.

The summertime wasn’t easy now. With the season over, he had so much free time, and all of it was spent thinking about you. He’d tried to stay busy, working out, hanging with friends, doing anything to distract himself, but nothing worked. Everything came back to you, and the memory of that night kept replaying in his head like a broken record. He needed more, and it felt like he’d never get it.

Now, here he was again, back at your dad’s house, sitting with him and a couple of old friends, watching a baseball game. It was supposed to be a fun, casual afternoon, but Sidney couldn’t shake the feeling of anticipation buzzing under his skin. You were in the house, just a few rooms away, and he could already feel the effect of your presence on him, even if you weren’t sitting with them.

To Sidney’s left, Cooper—one of your dad's oldest friends—reached for the bowl of peanuts and grunted. “Where’re the kids tonight?”

Your dad leaned back, cracked open another beer, and let out a long breath. “The boys are out with my wife. Took them over to that new batting cage downtown. Y/n’s here somewhere.”

Sidney’s chest tightened at the casual mention of you. 

Cooper popped a peanut into his mouth and chewed noisily. “Yeah? How’s that boyfriend of hers? Kid’s a riot.”

That got a round of snorts from the other guys in the room. Another voice chimed in from across the coffee table, Doug maybe—Sid wasn’t really listening, not when your name and boyfriend were in the same sentence.

“Last time I saw him,” Doug said, “he spent ten minutes talking about his protein powder regimen. Swear to God, thought the kid was gonna ask me to spot him right there in the living room.”

The men laughed, low and rough, the sound filling the space. Your dad shook his head, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, he’s somethin’, all right. Showed up to family dinner last month wearing loafers with no socks. Said it was ‘European.’”

Another round of laughter. Sidney stayed quiet, but a slow, smug little curl started at the corner of his mouth. He kept his eyes on the TV, but his ears? Locked in.

Cooper grunted again. “A riot, I tell ya. Real character. Got opinions on everything, doesn’t he?”

Your dad took a swig of his beer, then let out a laugh that sounded more tired than amused. “Oh, you have no idea. Kid’s got a new scheme every week. Last week, he wanted Y/n to go in on some crypto thing with him. Said they could ‘build an empire.’” He made air quotes with his fingers and shook his head.

Sidney’s jaw tensed, but not out of jealousy. No. If anything, it fed that growing satisfaction in his chest. No one here was singing the boyfriend’s praises. Not your dad, not his buddies—and he already knew how you felt about him.

Doug chuckled darkly. “Bet Y/n’s thrilled about that.”

Your dad snorted. “She says he means well. But I can tell. She’s over half his shit already.”

Sidney’s fingers drummed against his thigh, slow and steady, like he was keeping time with the game. But really, it was because he was riding the little surge of victory swelling in his chest. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to. Because every jab and joke the guys made about your boyfriend was another tally in Sidney’s column.

And God, wasn’t that just sweet?

The game was dragging, or maybe it just felt that way because Sidney’s mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t focus on the TV, couldn’t engage in the conversation around him. His mind was too preoccupied with you, and it didn’t help that every time he thought of you, his body reacted. He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable, but there was a persistent ache, a need that wouldn’t go away.

When the need to use the bathroom finally gave him an excuse to leave the room, he stood, making his way down the hallway toward the bathroom near your bedroom. His heart was already beating a little faster, the anticipation of possibly seeing you making his pulse quicken. He didn’t know if you’d come out, didn’t know if you even knew he was here, but the thought of being close to you again, even for a second, was enough to send a thrill of excitement through him.

Sidney stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and let out a slow breath as he splashed some water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror, trying to clear his head, trying to calm the heat that had been building inside him since he walked into your house. But it was no use. The moment he stepped out of the bathroom, there you were, leaving your bedroom at the exact same time.

You were dressed in some sweats and a little cropped t-shirt, looking effortlessly perfect, and the sight of you knocked the breath right out of him. He froze for a moment, his hand still on the bathroom door as he took you in, his eyes roaming over your body, his mind already racing with thoughts he knew he shouldn’t be having.

You met his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was a tension between you, a pull, and before Sidney knew it, he was reaching out, his hand wrapping around your wrist, tugging you into the bathroom with him.

The door clicked shut behind you, and the second you were alone, it was like the floodgates opened. Sidney’s lips crashed against yours, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you with all the pent-up need he’d been holding onto for the past two weeks. It was desperate, frantic, and he couldn’t get enough. You tasted just as sweet as he remembered, and the soft sound you made against his lips had him groaning low in his throat, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you.

His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as he backed you up against the sink, the cool porcelain biting into your lower back as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

“Fuck,” Sidney muttered against your lips, his hands roaming over your sides, slipping beneath your cropped t-shirt to feel the warm skin beneath. You moaned softly into his mouth, and that sound—the one that had been haunting him for weeks—made his head spin.

Your hips pressed against his, grinding against the growing hardness in his jeans, and Sidney let out a low groan, his fingers digging into your waist as he moved against you, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

“Missed you,” he breathed, his lips moving to your neck, kissing a trail of fire down your throat. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pulled him closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “You think I haven’t been thinking about you?”

Sidney groaned, his teeth grazing your skin as he kissed you again, his hands slipping lower to cup your ass, lifting you slightly onto the edge of the sink as he pressed himself between your legs. Your hips rocked against him, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you ground against him, the heat between you growing with each passing second.

You let out a soft whimper, your hips moving in sync with his, the heat between you growing unbearable. His hands roamed your body, sliding down to your ass, squeezing, pulling you tighter against him as you both moved together in a slow, intoxicating rhythm.

“Sid,” you breathed, your voice full of need, your head tilting back as he kissed your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you shiver. “We can’t—God, we can’t do this here.”

Sidney let out a rough laugh, shaking his head as his hands slid beneath your shirt, his thumbs brushing against your skin. “You’re gonna get me in so much trouble,” he muttered, but there was no mistaking the heat in his voice, the way his hands lingered on your waist, the way he looked at you like he couldn’t wait to take this further.

You let out a soft whine of frustration, grinding your hips against him one more time, just to see him squirm. “Why not?” you teased, a little smirk playing at your lips. “Scared we’ll get caught?”

 “Your dad’s right down the hall.”

“C’mon Sid.”

He groaned, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath, his body still pressed against yours, still moving, still desperate for more. “I know, I know,” he muttered, but he didn’t stop. His hands were still roaming your body, his lips still trailing over your skin, and the way you were grinding against him wasn’t helping. “Fuck, I just need you so bad.”

Your hands were in his hair, tugging, guiding his lips back to yours, and Sidney didn’t hesitate. He kissed you again, deep and slow, his tongue sliding against yours as he pressed you harder against the counter. The friction between your bodies was driving him wild, and he could feel how much you wanted him, how ready you were, even through your clothes.

“Fuck, baby, you’re killing me,” he breathed against your lips, his hands sliding down to your hips, guiding your movements as you both ground against each other, the heat building, the tension unbearable. “We can’t do this here, but I can’t fucking stop.”

You moaned softly, your hips moving a little faster, the desperation in your movements matching his. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice breathless as you kissed him again, your hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer. “Don’t fucking stop.”

Sidney groaned, his hands slipping under your sweats, gripping your bare skin as he pulled you tighter against him. He could feel how wet you were, how desperate, and it was taking everything in him not to take it further. But you were right—they couldn’t do this here. Not in your dad’s house. Not with everyone just a few rooms away.

“We have to stop,” he muttered, though it sounded more like a plea than a command. His hands didn’t stop moving, his lips didn’t stop kissing you, but there was a part of him that knew they couldn’t take this any further—not here, not now.

Reluctantly, you pulled back, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Your lips were swollen from his kisses, your skin flushed, and the sight of you looking like that—like you needed him just as badly as he needed you—was almost enough to make him forget every reason why this was a bad idea.

“Then let’s do it somewhere else,” you whispered, your voice soft, but full of intent.

Sidney’s heart skipped a beat, his eyes darkening as he met your gaze. “You serious?” he asked, his voice rough.

You nodded, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. “So serious.” Then you reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and opened it like you had every right to, with a small, knowing smile. “There,” you whispered, your voice still shaky. “Now you have my number.”

Sidney blinked, his mind still hazy with desire, but he took the phone, quickly saving your contact. His heart was still racing, his body still buzzing with the need to pull you back into him, but he knew this wasn’t the time or place.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, his voice low and rough as he leaned in, pressing one last kiss to your lips. “I’ll call you.”

You smiled, a soft, teasing smile that made his heart skip a beat. “I’ll be waiting.”

With that, you slipped out of the bathroom, leaving Sidney standing there, hard, breathless and buzzing with anticipation for what came next.

Later, when Sidney left your house, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. His mind was flooded with every second you’d spent together, the feeling of your lips on his, the taste of your skin, the way your body had fit so perfectly against his. He gripped the steering wheel tighter as he drove, his mind racing, heart pounding, every muscle in his body wound tight with the anticipation of what was to come. He was so worked up he could barely focus, and it took everything in him not to turn the car around, march back to your house, and pull you into his arms again.

But he knew better. He needed to cool off. He needed time to think—to figure out what the hell he was going to do with this burning, relentless desire for you. He spent the next few hours pacing his house, trying to distract himself, trying to calm down, but the more time passed, the more he felt the weight of his need for you pulling him back in.

He hadn’t even made it three hours before he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, his phone in hand, staring at your number, thumb hovering over the screen. He couldn’t stop thinking about you—your lips, your breathless moans, the way you’d looked at him with those pretty eyes, your body pressed so tight against his.

Fuck it.

Before he could talk himself out of it, his fingers were moving, typing out a text. He hesitated for only a moment, feeling the tension build inside him as he hit send.

Sid: Did you make it through the rest of the game without missing me too much?

It was short, to the point, and he hated how basic it was, but he didn’t have it in him to come up with anything clever. His heart pounded as he stared at the phone, waiting for your reply, and when it finally buzzed, he felt a surge of excitement shoot through him.

You: Wouldn't you like to know? ;)

Sidney couldn’t help but smile at the little winkey face, something so simple yet so fucking cute, and it only made him more eager. He settled onto the couch, his fingers flying across the screen as he responded.

Sid: Been thinking about you. Can’t stop, actually.

He didn’t even bother trying to play it cool anymore. You both knew where this was headed, and he didn’t have the patience to beat around the bush. He needed you to know exactly what he was feeling.

It didn’t take long for your reply to come through, and when it did, it had his heart skipping a beat.

You: Oh yeah? What exactly have you been thinking about?

Sidney let out a low groan, his body already reacting to your words. He leaned back against the couch, adjusting himself as he felt his cock stir in his sweats. The memory of earlier, the way you’d felt grinding against him, the way your breath had hitched in his ear—it was all too fresh in his mind.

Sid: You really wanna know?

The next message that popped up on his screen had his breath catching in his throat.

You: Maybe…

A slow smirk spread across Sidney’s face as he leaned forward, his mind already racing with possibilities. He could feel the tension between you two growing with every passing second, and the thought of you on the other end of this conversation, thinking about him, wanting him just as badly—it was driving him insane.

His fingers shook slightly as he typed out his next message.

Sid: You’re killing me, you know that?

Your reply came almost instantly, like you were just as eager, just as impatient for whatever came next.

You: Come on, Sid. You can handle it.

He felt his cock twitch at your words, his breath catching in his throat as he shifted on the couch. His body was buzzing, his skin hot as he imagined you saying those words to him in person, imagined you looking up at him with that teasing smile, daring him to do something about it.

Without thinking, his fingers moved quickly, typing out his address.

Sid: Come over.

There was a pause, a few agonizing moments of waiting, and Sidney’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the screen, waiting for your reply. His mind was racing, the anticipation building to the point where he could hardly breathe.

When your reply finally came through, it was like a shot of adrenaline straight to his veins.

You: Send me the address.

He wasted no time, quickly sending you his address, his hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline rushing through him. His body was already buzzing with anticipation, and the thought of seeing you, of finally getting to touch you again, was almost too much to handle. You were coming over. You were actually coming over. And the thought of seeing you again, touching you, kissing you—it was almost too much to handle.

He glanced around the living room, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm himself down, but there was no stopping the heat that was coursing through him. His cock was already tenting against his sweats, the anticipation of having you so close, so soon, driving him crazy.

The seconds seemed to stretch on forever as he waited for your knock at the door.

When it finally came, the floodgates burst wide open.

Sidney didn’t waste a second. The second he opened the door and saw you standing there, everything he’d been holding back for the past two weeks came rushing to the surface. You were wearing a simple hoodie and shorts, but he barely noticed, his focus entirely on the fact that you were finally here, standing in front of him, alone.

“Hey,” you started, a small, knowing smirk playing at your lips.

But Sidney wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. He stepped forward, pulling you inside and shutting the door behind you.

 “Come here, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick with need as he grabbed you by the waist, immediately pulling you into him. 

His mouth was on yours before you had a chance to say anything else, kissing you with the kind of urgency that only weeks of built-up tension could bring. You melted into him just as quickly, your hands fisting into the front of his shirt as you kissed him back just as eagerly, your lips parting against his, tongues tangling in a messy, desperate kiss.

Sidney growled low in his throat, his hands sliding down to grab at your hips, pulling you flush against him. Every part of him was on fire, his body buzzing with the need to finally have you, to finally touch you the way he’d been aching to. You moaned softly into his mouth, and the sound sent a jolt of heat straight through him. He pulled back just enough to press his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Who helped you that night?” Sidney rasped, his breath warm against your lips.

You blinked up at him, a little dazed from the kiss, your lips swollen and pink. “What?”

“That night,” he repeated, his voice a little harder now, his hands tightening on your waist. “In the car. You left me like that. Who helped you?”

You stared at him for a second, and then a sly smile spread across your face. “Oh, you mean since you didn’t want to help me?”

Sidney let out a low groan, his jaw clenching as he stared at you. “Yeah, baby. Who’d you run to after?”

You tilted your head, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you traced your fingers up his chest, your nails lightly scraping over his skin through his shirt. “Oh, Sid,” you purred, leaning in close until your lips were right by his ear. “Who do you think?”

His grip on your hips tightened as your words sent a rush of heat straight through him. Sid pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you.

“Don’t tell me it was that asshole.” He couldn’t hide the edge of jealousy in his voice, the thought of you going to your boyfriend after everything that had happened between you made his blood boil.

You smiled, that same teasing smile that drove him crazy, and shrugged, clearly enjoying the way he was reacting. “What was I supposed to do?” you asked innocently, your lips brushing over his jaw. “You didn’t want to take care of me. So I had to go somewhere else.”

Sidney’s grip on you tightened even further, his body practically vibrating with frustration and jealousy. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. 

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes dark with the same need that had been driving him crazy for weeks. “Maybe next time you won’t leave me hanging, then,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing.

Sidney let out a rough laugh, his head tilting back as he dragged a hand through his hair. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, but there was a heat behind his words, his eyes darkening as he looked back down at you.

You pressed yourself even closer to him, your body warm and soft against his. “What are you gonna do about it, Sid?” you asked, your voice a breathy whisper as you leaned up to kiss him again.

That was all it took to snap whatever restraint he’d been holding onto. With a low growl, Sidney’s mouth crashed against yours, his hands sliding down to cup your ass as he pulled you against him. The kiss was messy, desperate, all teeth and tongue and heat, both of you too worked up to care about anything but the feel of each other. Sidney backed you up against the wall, his hands roaming under your hoodie and your shirt, his fingers brushing over your bare skin. He slowly backed you up against the door. You gasped into his mouth, arching into his touch as he pressed himself against you, his thigh sliding between your legs.

“Fuck, baby,” Sidney groaned against your lips, his hands gripping your hips as he rocked you against his thigh, his voice low and rough. “You feel so fucking good.”

You whimpered, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you ground down against him, the friction making your head spin. “Sid,” you breathed, your voice shaky as you pressed your forehead against his. “Need you.”

His breath hitched at your words, and for a second, he almost lost control completely. The thought of finally having you, of being able to touch you the way he wanted, was almost too much to handle. But he wasn’t going to rush this. He wanted to savor every second, wanted to make you feel every bit of what he’d been holding back for the past two weeks.

“Not yet, baby,” Sidney muttered, his voice thick as he kissed along your jaw, his hands still gripping your hips tightly as he guided your movements. “We’re gonna take our time.”

You let out a frustrated sound, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him back to your mouth, kissing him harder. “I don’t wanna wait, Sid,” you panted against his lips, your body trembling with need as you ground down against his thigh.

Sidney chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin as he kissed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “I know, baby. But I want to enjoy you.”

You let out a soft curse, your nails scraping down his back as you pressed yourself even closer to him, your body practically humming with the need to feel him inside you. Sidney groaned, his hands wandering beneath your clothing as he pushed your hoodie over your head, leaving you in just your little crop top and shorts. His eyes darkened as he looked down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he took in the sight of you standing there, flushed and breathing hard, your eyes full of want.

His hands moved to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your hips as he tugged them down slowly, agonizingly slow. His lips pressed against your neck as he worked your shorts down your legs, leaving you standing in just your panties. “I’m gonna take care of you, I promise.”

The sensation of his lips against your skin, his hands gripping your waist, was almost too much to handle. You pressed your body against his, your fingers tugging at his shirt until he finally pulled it off, tossing it carelessly to the floor. The heat of his bare skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss.

Sidney groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grab your ass, and lift you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His warm, insistent mouth devoured yours, his tongue exploring deep, as if trying to claim every inch of you. The door behind you was the only thing keeping you upright at this point. The sound of fabric shifting filled the quiet room as his large, calloused hands slid up your bare thighs, sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers curled into his hair, tugging gently as you moaned into his mouth.

Just as you were losing yourself in the feel of him, the sound of your phone vibrating on the floor underneath you cut through the fog of lust clouding your mind. You ignored it at first, trying to focus on Sidney’s hands, his mouth, the feel of him pressed against you. But then it buzzed again, and again, loud against the hardwood floor, and you cursed softly under your breath.

Sidney pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours as he tried to catch his breath. “That your boyfriend, baby?” he murmured, his voice a little teasing.

You rolled your eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Probably,” you muttered, Sid reached for your phone, handing it to you. You glanced at the screen, your stomach flipping at the sight of your boyfriend’s name flashing across it.

Sidney watched you, his lips quirking into a lazy smile as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Go ahead,” he whispered against your lips, his breath warm and teasing. “Answer it.”

Your eyes widened in shock, your heart racing as you looked up at him. “Are you serious?” you whispered, incredulous.

Sidney chuckled, his hands sliding down to your hips, pulling you against him. “Go on, baby,” he said softly, his lips brushing over your jaw as he kissed down your neck. “Answer it. Let’s see if you can keep quiet.”

With trembling hands, you swiped to answer, pressing it to your ear. "Yeah?" you managed to croak out, trying to sound as innocent as possible. Sidney took the opportunity to trace the line of your collarbone with his teeth, nipping and sucking gently, sending waves of need through your body. His hands found your tits, his thumbs teasing your hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. You bit your lip, suppressing a whimper, trying to focus on the voice on the other end of the line.

"What's going on?" your boyfriend asked, his voice suspicious. You felt Sidney's hand slip under your shirt, his rough fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your stomach before cupping your breast fully. His thumb continued to circle your nipple, his other hand sliding down to the waistband of your panties. "Just...just out at the lake," you lied, trying to keep your voice steady as Sidney's teeth grazed your pulse, his breath hot and uneven.

"You don't sound like you're at the lake," your boyfriend said, his tone growing more insistent. Sidney chuckled against your skin, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. "Everything okay?"

"Mhm," you hummed, feeling Sidney's fingers toy with your panties, not yet sliding under. "It's just... really hot." Sid’s quiet laughter vibrated through your body, turning into a groan as he slipped his hand inside your panties, finding the wetness that was already building. He stroked your clit with his thumb, the pressure firm and deliberate. You nearly dropped the phone as he pushed two fingers inside you, filling you up and curling them to hit that sweet spot that made your toes curl in your socks.

You struggled to keep yourself from crying out, especially as Sidney's other hand traveled up to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek, collecting the beads of sweat that had formed. "It's just... it's a really nice day out," you managed to say, trying not to let the pleasure seep into your voice. He leaned in closer, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. "Feelin’ good, baby?" he whispered, his voice a low purr that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers pumped in and out of you, his thumb still playing with your clit in a rhythm that was driving you insane.

"I can't talk right now," you murmured into the phone, your voice strained. "I'll call you back later.." You could almost hear the confusion in your boyfriend's voice as you ended the call, your eyes never leaving Sidney's as he watched you intently. His pupils were blown wide with lust. He took the phone from your hand and tossed it aside, his focus solely on the task at hand.

"Good girl," he smirked, his eyes darkening as he dipped his head to capture your mouth again. His kiss was demanding, his tongue sweeping in and out of your mouth as his fingers worked their magic between your legs. You felt yourself leaking onto his hand, the ache in your core growing harsher with every stroke. He broke the kiss, moving to trail wet kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin. You couldn't help but arch into his touch, desperately needing more.

"Sid...oh," you gasped as he found your clit again, his fingers moving in delicate figure-eights that had your thighs trembling. 

He chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. 

"That good huh baby?" His voice was a low murmur. You nodded, unable to form coherent words as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

You felt him lift you slightly, your legs tightening around his waist as he adjusted the angle of his hand, his thumb pressing harder on your clit while his fingers continued to explore the warm depths of your pussy. His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, sending bolts of pleasure straight to your core. 

"Tell me," he whispered, his voice a hoarse demand. "Tell me how much you want me."

You took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself. "I...I want you so bad, Sid," you murmured, the words barely audible. 

His fingers stilled for a brief moment, the sudden absence of movement making you whine with need. He chuckled softly. 

"That's it, baby," he said, before resuming his relentless pace. The tension coiled tighter in your stomach, your muscles clenching around his fingers as the first waves of an orgasm began to build.

With a groan, you buried your face in Sidney's neck, biting down lightly to muffle the sounds that wanted to escape. He kissed along your hairline, his free hand massaged your trembling thigh. 

"Come for me, baby," he whispered against your cheek, his voice demanding. "Want to feel you come all over my hand."

You whimpered into his mouth, the pleasure too intense to hold back anymore. Your eyes squeezed shut as the orgasm washed over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as you tighten your legs around his waist. His fingers slowed, allowing you to ride out the waves of pleasure that crashed through you. When you finally came down from the high, you opened your eyes to find Sidney watching you with a smug smile. 

"Fuck, you're beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice filled with awe against your shoulder.

Sidney scooped you up into his arms, carrying you over to the plush sofa with the same ease he'd use to lift a puck off the ice. He laid you down on your back, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly lowered himself onto you, his hard length pressing against your thigh. You could feel the heat of his body, his dick straining against his sweats.

"Jesus," he whispered, his eyes dark and hungry. You felt your pussy clench with need, your body begging for his touch.

With a groan, Sidney slid his hand down your body, his fingertips dancing over your stomach before delving into the waistband of your panties. He tugged them down with a rough jerk, exposing your bare pussy to the cool air of the room. You shivered at the sensation, your legs spreading wider in invitation. His eyes never left yours as you tugged his sweats and boxers down to expose his hard cock, he immediately lined himself up with your entrance, the tip glistening with precum. You take it in hand, pumping it a few times before dragging it up and down your throbbing pussy.

"Oh, fuck me," he hissed, his eyes rolling back in his head. 

You took the opportunity to stroke his cock, feeling the veiny skin and the hot, hard length beneath. His precum slicked your hand, making your movements smooth and easy. You watched as his expression tightened, his jaw clenched and his eyes snapped back to yours. "Tease," he groaned, his voice thick.

Your hand continued to glide over his length, the tip of his cock grazing your clit with every pass. Each touch sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, making it even harder to resist the urge to take him inside you. You leaned up, capturing his mouth in a kiss, your tongue tangling with his as you both fought to get closer, to taste more of each other.

Sidney groaned into your mouth, his hips jerking slightly as he lost some of his control. He broke the kiss, panting. "Need to fuck you, now," he said, his voice raw with need. You could see the restraint, the effort it was taking for him not to plunge into you without another moment's hesitation.

"Then do it," you dared him. "Take what you need."

The wait was torture, your entire body thrumming with need. He didn't tease you anymore, instead choosing to fuck into you with a single, powerful thrust that made you cry out in pleasure. The feeling of fullness was overwhelming, your pussy stretching to accommodate his thick length.

You arched your back, your nails digging into the couch cushions as Sidney began to move. His hips pistoned into you with a slow, steady rhythm that made your eyes roll back in your head. "F-fuck," he whispered, his face a mask of concentration and desire. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, needing more of him inside you. His movements grew more frantic, his cock sliding in and out of you with a wet, squelching sound that filled the room.

With every thrust, you could feel him hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. "Right there," you moaned, your voice rough.

Sidney's eyes never left yours as he moved. "Right there?" he asked, his voice low. "You like my cock inside you, baby?"

You nodded frantically, unable to form coherent words as the sensation of his thick length moving in you overwhelmed you. "Mm," you managed to breathe out, the word coming out as a desperate plea for more. "Fuck me harder, Sid."

Sidney's smirk grew wider, his teeth flashing in the dim light of the room. He loved it when you talked dirty, when you begged for it. His hips slammed into you with a force that made the sofa creak beneath you. You could feel your breasts bouncing with every impact, your nipples tightening into painfully hard peaks that begged for his attention.

He leaned down, his teeth capturing one sensitive nub, teasing it with gentle nips before soothing the sting with a swirl of his tongue. You cried out, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, pushing your chest up to meet his hungry mouth. His other hand slid down to cup your pussy, his thumb finding that sweet spot that had you seeing stars moments ago. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, the dual sensations making it impossible to think of anything else.

"Sid, oh my fucking God, Sid," you chanted his name. Your legs tightened around his waist, urging him on, your pussy clenching around him. He groaned into your skin.

Sidney's rhythm grew more erratic as he approached his own high, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. He could feel your wetness coating his cock, your walls pulsing around him. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss. Your hands roamed his body, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles, the dampness of his back as sweat beaded and rolled down his spine.

"You're so fucking perfect," he murmured against your lips, his voice barely above a growl. He could feel his release building, the pressure at the base of his spine growing almost unbearable. You whined into his mouth, your body begging for relief, your pussy tightening around his cock as if trying to milk him dry.

With a final hard thrust, Sidney buried himself to the hilt inside you, his hips grinding against yours as he spilled his seed deep within you. The feel of him coming inside you sent you spiraling over the edge once more, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and trembling.

For a second, he didn’t move, his cock pulsing, breath hot and heavy against your neck. Then, with a low groan, he pulled out, the loss of him leaving you feeling empty. You watched as he sat back, his cock still hard and glistening with both of your juices. "Shit, baby," he panted.

He reached for your hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss each of your fingers. "You're mine," he murmured, the words sending a thrill through you even with the sticky mess between your legs. You felt his come start to dribble out of you, probably staining the cushion beneath you. "Always going to be mine."

He took his cock in hand and stroked it slowly, watching you watch him. He gathered your mixed releases onto his tip and pushed into you once again. He didn't move, didn’t thrust, just stared into your eyes as if making sure you knew he was trying to make sure you could feel him.

"Sid..." You breathed out.

He reached down, his hands sliding around your thighs, and before you knew it, he picked you up, never pulling out of your still-quivering pussy. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs automatically going around his waist as he carried you through the hallway, the warmth of his cock still inside you. It was a strange feeling, being so filled and yet so empty at the same time. You could feel the warmth of his come on your thighs as he carried you, and it sent a fresh wave of arousal through you. He lays you down on the bed, the cool sheets a big difference to the heat of his body. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight of you, sprawled out and panting, before climbing back over you. He kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he moves down to your chest.

"I've been dreaming about these tits for weeks," he murmurs, his eyes dark with lust as he cups your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples. You gasp as he takes one into his mouth, sucking hard. His tongue swirls around the peak before he bites down gently, the sting making your pussy throb. You can feel your need building again, a slow burn that's starting to spread through your entire body.

He kisses down your stomach, his scruff tickling your skin, and you can feel the heat of his breath as he approaches your core. "Spread your legs for me," he says, and you obey, needy to see what he'll do next. His tongue immediately swipes over your clit, and you jolt, your body already sensitive from your recent orgasm. He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin. "So responsive." He licks you again, this time a little slower, savoring the taste of you.

He's relentless, his tongue flicking over your clit before plunging deep into your wetness. You grab fistfuls of the bedsheets, trying to hold on as he takes you to the brink again. "Sid...oh, fuck," you gasp, your hips bucking against his mouth. He hums in response. He kisses the insides of your thighs before moving back up, his mouth finding yours again. You can taste yourself on him, which almost makes up for the orgasm he didn’t give you.

But he wasn't done with you yet. Not even close, not when he’s been waiting weeks to feel you. He stood up, his cock hard again. "On your knees," he said. 

Before you can say anything, or even move, he flips you over himself, so you're on your hands and knees on the bed. He just smirks down at you, that knowing smile that makes your stomach flip. You're on the edge of the bed now, knees spread, ass in the air. 

You look up at him through your lashes, your eyes full of want, and he nods, wanting it just as bad as you do. You lean forward, your hands wrapping around the base of his dick as you take him into your mouth. He groans, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair as he starts to fuck your mouth, his movements rough and demanding. You gag, but you love it, the feeling of him filling you up so completely, pushing past the limits of what you thought you could take.

You could feel his eyes on you, watching as you took him deep, your cheeks hollowing with each pass. His hand tangled in your hair, guiding your movements, setting a pace that had you gagging slightly around his length.

Your eyes water, but you don't stop, your tongue swirling around his length as he hits the back of your throat, it only adds to the feeling of being used and adored all at once. His hips are a blur, his cock moving in and out of your mouth in a steady, punishing rhythm that makes your throat tighten around him. You reach down to touch yourself, your pussy slick and swollen, your fingertips slipping easily through the mess he's made of you.

"Fuck," he groaned, his eyes half-closed with pleasure. "Your mouth is heaven." You took him in deeper, letting his cock slide to the back of your throat and sit there. You felt his grip tighten, his other hand coming to rest on the back of your head as he pushed in even further. You choked, your throat convulsing around him, and he chuckled. "Take it," he encouraged, his voice a low whisper. "Take all of me."

Your scalp begins to sting as he starts to fuck your mouth with more urgency, his hips pumping faster. You can feel his release coming, the muscles in his thighs tensing, and you know he's close. You suck harder, your cheeks hollowing out as you take him all the way in, your throat working around him. He lets out a strangled groan, his cock swelling even more, and you know you're pushing him to the brink.

With one hand still playing with your clit, your pussy is so sore. The stimulation is intense, your fingertips rub against your sensitive flesh, and you can't help but whine around his cock. You're so close again, your body begging for release, and you give in, sliding two fingers inside yourself. They glide in easily, coated with his come and your juices, and you start to fuck yourself in time with his thrusts. The vibration makes him curse, his eyes never leaving yours, his strokes growing more violent. "You're gonna make me come," he warns.

You can feel your jaw starting to ache, but you don't care. All that matters right now is getting him off, making him come apart in your mouth. You reach up to grip the base of his dick, using it to stroke him in time with your bobbing. His cock sliding in and out of your mouth with a wet, lewd sound that makes you even wetter. You can feel your pussy clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled by him again, but for now, this is enough. This is more than enough.

His balls start to tighten, and you know he's close. With a final, desperate push, Sidney empties himself into your mouth, his warm come spurting against the back of your throat. You keep sucking, eager to get every last drop, then he pulls out with a wet ‘pop’. You open your mouth and show him your tongue, white with come, the salty taste of him filling your mouth. 

“Christ,” he rasps out, panting, his cock glistening with your saliva and his come. You lick your lips, savoring the taste of him, feeling more alive than you ever have before.

Still on your knees, Sid puts his hands on your hips, moving you so that you're facing the mirror across from his bed. He's not done with you yet. He presses down on your lower back, forcing your ass further up. "I want you to see your face when I make you come again," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

You look up at him in the mirror, your cheeks flushed. You know what's coming, and you can't wait. He lines his cock up with your pussy, and you feel a shiver of anticipation run down your spine. With one hand, he grips your hip, holding you steady as he slams into you from behind. You cry out, the force of his entry making your eyes water, and he slaps your ass, leaving a red handprint that makes you moan.

"Touch yourself, baby," he says, his voice a low growl. "Go ‘head."Your body is already stretching around him, your pussy slick with come and need. His strokes are deep and slow, his cock dragging out before slamming back in, making you whine and squirm. He grabs one of your hands, guiding it between your legs, your fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in tight circles as he fucks you. "Yeah, just like that," he murmurs, his eyes on your reflection as you touch yourself.

You can feel his hand on your neck, squeezing gently, the other gripping your hip so hard it's probably going to leave marks. He's lost in the rhythm, his eyes half-closed, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip. You're lost in it too, your hand moving faster, your breaths coming in pants. "Sid...baby," you moan, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. His eyes snap open, meeting yours in the mirror, and the intensity of his gaze makes you feel like you're going to break.

"Gonna come for me, baby?" he grunts, his voice strained with his own need. "Wanna feel you come all over my cock." The words are like a trigger, sending you spiraling. You tighten the circles on your clit, your body arching as wave after wave of pleasure and pain washes over you. You feel him swell inside you, his own orgasm close, and you push back into him, eager to take all of him.

You moan into the mattress, your hand still working your clit, your other hand squeezing your breast. The pressure builds, a crescendo of pleasure that feels like it's going to tear you in half. You can see his face in the mirror, the look of concentration as he watches you. "Come for me," he grunts, his voice deep and demanding. "Come all over my cock."

And then you do. With a cry that's half pleasure and half pain, your body convulses, your pussy clenching around him as you squirt, the wetness soaking the bed beneath you and his thighs. He pulled back, his cock slipping from your quivering, dripping hole, the sight of you squirting making him even harder. He drags his cock through your folds, his thumb pressing down on your clit, drawing out your orgasm until you're shaking, until you can't take anymore.

Sidney's cock was still hard, still demanding more, but he took his time, his hand moving between your legs to gently coax more pleasure from your swollen clit. You whined, the sensation almost too much, but you didn't want it to end. Sid seemed to know that, "Just need a little more baby." Before pushing into you again. He needed to come, and he was going to do so inside.

"Sid, please," you begged, your voice barely a whisper. He moved a bit faster, his eyes never leaving your face. 

"I'm almost there, just a little more, baby," he murmured, his voice strained. The feel of your walls pulsing around him was too much for him to resist.

"Oh, fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice tight with tension. "You're going to make me... ah, fuck..."

Sidney's cock swelled inside you, and with a final thrust, he came. You felt the hot spurt of his come fill you, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. He groaned, his eyes squeezed shut, his entire being focused on the pleasure that was consuming him.

He groaned, his eyes squeezed shut, his entire being focused on the pleasure that was consuming him. "Fuck, baby," he panted, his voice hoarse. "That was... fucking incredible."

You couldn't help but hum, a smile tugging at your lips. Your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your own climax. As his hips slowed, you could feel his cock begin to soften, his come leaking out of your pussy and onto the bed. You felt satisfied, a need had been fulfilled beyond your wildest dreams. "It was," you agreed, your voice a breathless whisper.

With a sigh, Sidney pulled out of you, his soft cock glistening with your combined releases. He collapsed beside you, his strong arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you into the crook of his body. You snuggled closer, feeling his warmth seep into your bones. The bed was a mess, the comforter and sheets sticky with sweat and your juices, but it was your mess.

He nuzzled into your hair, planting soft kisses along your neck and shoulder. "You okay, baby?" he murmured, his voice filled with genuine concern. You nodded, your cheek pressing into his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

With a gentle tug, Sidney pulled the comforter up, so that you were nestled against his side, your legs tangled in the mess of the bed sheets. The scent of sex clung to the air. He reached over and grabbed a clean towel from the chair beside his bed, gently wiping away the sweat and come that coated your skin. His touch was soft.

His arms were heavy around you, but you didn’t mind. Not one bit. You fit against him too perfectly, like you were made to lay right here — chest to chest, his big hand sprawled warm and wide over your bare back, fingertips tracing lazy little circles at the dip of your spine. The air in the room was cool, but his body heat had you flushed and soft and sleepy against him, every inch of you sinking deeper and deeper.

He smelled faintly like sweat and his sheets, and just under that, like whatever was left of your perfume, transferred to his skin from hours tangled up together. His nose nudged into your hair every so often, and each time, his hold tightened. Like he was still trying to convince himself you were really here.

Your breathing was slowing down now, evening out with that heavy, blissful sleepiness settling in your bones. But his heart — you could hear it, thudding strong under your ear where your head rested on his chest.

Sid let out a soft sigh through his nose and pressed a kiss to your temple, voice low and a little rough. "Baby... you falling asleep on me?"

You hummed, barely moving except to nuzzle closer, lips brushing against his skin. "Mhm... comfy." Your voice was wrecked, scratchy and soft, and it made his chest tighten in the best, most dangerous way.

"Shit, you’re so sweet like this," he muttered, voice dropping lower. His hand skimmed higher, fingers threading into your hair at the back of your head, massaging slow, gentle strokes that made you melt. "Could hold you like this all night, y'know that? Don’t wanna let you go."

"Then don’t," you mumbled, barely coherent, and god — that made him smile, all crooked and a little breathless.

He kissed your hair again. "But you gotta go, yeah? Before your old man starts sending out a search party."

At that, his home phone rang sharply against the nightstand. You groaned, face scrunching up as he reached for it with a sleepy grumble. Sidney’s big hand held it for a bit before hitting answer.

"Stay," he murmured, voice gravelly, lips brushing your cheek. "Just for a little longer."

The phone rang again.

With a dramatic sigh, you peeled your face off his chest and squinted at the screen. "It's my dad," you groaned. "Fuck."

Sid let his head fall back against the pillow with a grunt. "Of course it is. Perfect fuckin’ timing."

He tapped to answer, already bracing. "Hey, man..." he said, trying his best to sound normal, like he didn’t have his buddy’s daughter naked in bed after what felt like marathon sex. Your eyes flicked up, catching Sid watching you with that stupid soft smile and sleepy eyes, one hand still stroking lazy circles on your back.

Your dad’s voice crackled through the speaker. "Hey Sid, how’s it going?"

"Goin’ good, you?" His voice stayed steady, thank god, but you could hear his heart pounding.

"Good. Good. Hey, you wouldn’t have happened to see my kid around, have you?" he said, clearly not suspecting.

"No, no, I haven’t. Everything alright?" 

“I think so. She said she was gonna go out with her friends but… she just hasn’t been answering her phone.”

“Gotcha, well I haven’t seen her but I’ll let you know if I do.”

“Alright, thanks, Sid, talk to you later.” And with that, he hung up.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered.

Sid chuckled, deep and low, the sound vibrating under your ear. "Well, guess that’s our cue, huh?"

"Unfortunately." You scrunched your nose and peeked up at him through your lashes. "Gotta go before this turns into a whole-ass disaster."

Sid sighed, long and reluctant, but his hand smoothed down your back, comforting. "Yeah, yeah. I get it, baby." His other hand cupped the back of your head again, guiding you in for one more slow, lingering kiss — warm and sweet and just shy of desperate. "Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though."

You smiled against his mouth. "Nobody said you had to."

"Fuckin’ hell," he muttered, kissing you again, this time slower. His hand squeezed your hip gently. "You feel so good in my bed, baby. Gonna have a real hard time letting you leave."

"You're not making this any easier," you whispered, grinning as you finally pulled back.

"Yeah, well—" He sat up with a groan, dragging a hand over his face. "C’mon. Let’s get you dressed before I change my mind and keep you here." His voice was playful but thick with that same frustration you both felt.

He climbed out of bed first, stark naked and not bothering to hide the mess you two had made of each other. You giggled, covering your face.

"Don’t laugh at me, baby," he grumbled, smirking as he handed you a blanket so you could go back to the living room where every single piece of clothing was abandoned. 

He followed closely behind. Watching as you grabbed your shirt from where it had been tossed onto the floor hours ago. "Here. Arms up."

You did as told, sitting up slow with a wince. "God... everything hurts."

Sid’s hands paused as he helped you slide the shirt, no bra, down over your head, eyes flicking up to meet yours with a look equal parts concern and satisfaction. "Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to wreck you that bad." He smoothed the shirt down over your hips, lips quirking. "Actually, that’s a lie. Kinda did."

You swatted at his arm. "Dick."

He just laughed, soft and warm, helping you to your feet next. His hands steadied you when your legs wobbled. "Easy, sweetheart. I got you."

You gave him a look, half annoyed, half fond. "God, you and your big ego."

Sidney just grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. "Uh-huh. And you love it."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, too busy stepping into your shorts, no panties, with a grimace. "I’m gonna be walking funny for days."

Where the hell are your underwear?

His hands smoothed down your sides once you were dressed, thumbs stroking little circles at your waist. "Should’ve thought about that before you came over looking like a fuckin’ dream." His lips brushed your ear. "You gonna be okay with all those marks, baby? Your dad’s not gonna ask questions?"

You shrugged, careless. "He won’t. He’ll just assume it’s my boyfriend." You shot him a wicked little smile over your shoulder. "Let him."

Sid barked out a laugh, low and sharp. His hand swatted lightly at your ass as he turned you toward the door. "Alright, c’mon. Before I say screw it and drag you back to bed."

You both padded through the quiet house, the late hour making every creak in the floorboards sound louder. At the door, he grabbed his hoodie from the hook and draped it over your shoulders. "Here. Cover up those pretty marks I left."

You smirked, pulling it tighter around you. "You’re obsessed with me."

"Damn right I am," he muttered, pulling you in for one last kiss. This one was slower, deeper, his hand cupping your jaw while his thumb stroked your cheek. "Text me when you get home, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," you whispered against his lips, heart hammering. "Promise."

He kissed you again, like he couldn’t help it. "Good girl."

Your legs were still a little wobbly as you made your way to your car, Sid trailing behind you, big and warm and still looking like he didn’t want to let you go. At the driver’s side door, he caught your hand, lifted it to his mouth, and kissed your knuckles slow.

"You drive safe, baby."

You squeezed his hand back. "I'll see you soon."

"You better." His voice was rough now, low with something that made your stomach flip.

You slid into the car, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide.

Sid leaned down, kissed your temple through the open window, and then stepped back with a soft curse under his breath. "Fuckin’ troublemaker," he muttered fondly.

And as you pulled away into the night, Sidney just stood there in his driveway, arms crossed, watching your taillights disappear — already counting down the minutes until he could get his hands on you again.

—

[nocturnebite]

Clickbait [+..••]

(is this real) - gamer! Ni-ki x fem! reader

synopsis: He wasn’t supposed to swipe back. But now you’re trading late-night calls with a too-perfect gamer, and it feels real—until his past comes crashing in. Was he genuine… or just another kind of clickbait? fic notes: dating apps... ew || banter || mild trust issues || fluff :3 wc: 4.87k

ash's notes: this idea has been in my head for so long and i really wanted to write it and now i'm finally done! i've got so many drafts i need to post it's unreal. but i hope you enjoy this little story :3 !!

“Okay, spill. How was it?”

You blink at your friend, the flickering glow of the café’s fairy lights reflecting in her eyes as she leans forward, resting her chin on her palm like she’s about to hear the juiciest gossip of the year. The table between you smells of burnt caramel and overpriced matcha, and you’ve barely touched your drink. You draw a slow breath, the kind that tastes like disappointment, and offer a flat smile.

“Just more clickbait,” you say.

Your friend groans like it physically hurts her. “No way.”

You nod, slouching in your chair as if gravity itself has finally gotten too heavy to resist. “He said he was six feet. He was five-seven, max. His pictures were from, like, 2018. And he talked about crypto for an hour straight. I didn’t even know people still did that.”

She winces. “Oof.”

You sigh again, softer this time, letting the frustration settle in your chest. “I’m so tired of people pretending to be someone they’re not. I get it—it’s a dating app. Everyone's performing. But why does it feel like I’m the only one actually showing up as me?”

Your friend plays with her straw, thoughtful. “So... you’re giving up?”

You shrug. “I think I’ve officially retired. I’ll knit. Adopt a cat. Maybe start writing angry Yelp reviews.”

“Oh, come on.” She bumps your arm. “You can’t just quit. I had a good date last week, remember? It’s not all trash.”

“Yeah, and I’m thrilled for you,” you say honestly. “But you’re, like, the one-in-a-million success story they use in the ads. I’m the cautionary tale.”

“Stop it,” she says, dragging out the last word like a scolding mom. “You’re gorgeous, funny, smart. You deserve something good.”

You smile, a bit tired around the edges, and tilt your head. “Tell that to the last guy who said ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ on his profile.”

She groans and grabs your phone from the table. “Let’s just look, okay? You don’t have to marry anyone tonight.”

You eye her skeptically. “You’re relentless.”

“And you’re tragic. Come on.”

You sigh but relent, taking the phone back. The app lights up like a slot machine as you open it. Familiar profiles slide past your thumb: shirtless mirror selfies, vague bios with gym stats, a suspicious number of “entrepreneurs.”

Some match with you. You don’t swipe back. Some are clearly bots, or worse—people who look like they borrowed someone else’s face.

And then you see him.

Your thumb freezes.

Tall. Jet-black hair, slightly tousled like he just got up from a gaming chair but still looks model-ready. Hooded eyes. Full lips. That smirk—cocky, unreadable, like he knows something you don’t.

“Holy—” your friend leans over the screen. “Swipe. Now.”

“No,” you say immediately, locking the phone like it just burned you. “Absolutely not. He’s definitely fake.”

“Are you kidding me? That man looks like a Greek god and you’re not even curious?”

“He looks like trouble,” you mutter. “He’s hot. He knows it. Probably a Twitch streamer with a Discord full of girls who call him ‘daddy.’ I’m not signing up for that.”

Your friend laughs so hard she nearly spills her drink. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” you insist, though your heart is pounding for reasons you can’t explain. “It’s written all over his face.”

“But what if it’s not? What if—plot twist—he’s the one that breaks the pattern?”

You hesitate.

“Just swipe,” she pleads. “Worst case, you don’t match and never see him again. Best case…”

You shake your head, but you can already feel yourself giving in. Still, before you can decide, your friend snatches the phone and swipes right with a dramatic flourish.

You gape at her. “Did you just—?!”

“No match,” she says, showing you the screen. “Happy?”

You exhale, weirdly deflated. “Honestly? Yeah. I mean, he’s probably got a million people trying to match with him.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it just wasn’t your moment.”

You nod, lips pressed together as you slide your phone into your bag. “Well, I’m done for the night. I’m going home, washing my face, and watching something stupid.”

She stands with you, grinning. “Good. You deserve to turn your brain off. But hey…” she pauses, her smile softening. “Don’t give up completely, okay? I’ve got a good feeling.”

You roll your eyes but give her a hug goodbye.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

That night, you toss your keys onto your desk, the screen of your phone lighting up just as you’re about to plug it in.

1 New Message - [Tinder]

You frown, opening it automatically, expecting another “hey cutie” from someone who can’t spell your name right.

But the screen shows something else entirely.

You matched with Riki.

Your heart stops.

Your hands go cold.

You blink at the message, then again—just to make sure your eyes aren’t playing tricks.

The same face. The same smirk. The guy who was too good to be true…

Matched with you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

You don’t open the message right away.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re busy—brushing your teeth, feeding the dog, picking at dinner you don’t even taste—but deep down, you know it’s because you’re scared.

You already decided not to get your hopes up again. You’ve already been down this road before—the one where a hot guy matches, flirts, builds you up like you’re the only girl on earth, only to ghost you the second things feel real.

Still.

You tap the app. His message is waiting.

Riki: Thought I was imagining things for a sec. Didn’t expect the girl with the death-glare profile pic to swipe back 😅

Your nose scrunches. Death glare?

You flip to your own profile, stare at the photo your friend picked—half-smiling, eyes a little dead inside.

Okay, fair.

You: Yeah well. Didn’t expect the cocky gamer guy to swipe either. So I guess we’re both glitching tonight. Riki: I’m not cocky. I’m just... factually confident. And good with my thumbs.

You roll your eyes and try not to smile. You fail.

You: That’s exactly something a cocky guy would say. Riki: Damn. She’s clever too. I’m in trouble.

You don’t respond right away. Not because you don’t want to—but because something in your chest tightens at how easy it is. The flow. The banter. Like slipping into an old sweater you forgot still fit.

And somehow, it stays like that.

No “wyd” texts. No pressure. Just long, meandering conversations that start late and end later. You find out he streams sometimes, but only for fun. He has a little sister he’s protective over. He learned to cook because his mom works nights. His favorite genre is horror, but he’s a total baby when it comes to jump scares.

He doesn’t ask for selfies. Doesn’t hint at anything sketchy. In fact, half the time it feels like he genuinely just wants someone to talk to.

Which is kind of nice.

It turns into a rhythm: He messages. You reply. You laugh. You tease. You talk until your phone is warm in your hand and your eyes sting from lack of sleep.

Riki: You’re fun. You: You’re not what I expected. Riki: That’s either the best compliment or a red flag in disguise. You: I’ll let you know which later.

It’s two weeks in when he says it.

You’re half-asleep, curled in bed, squinting at his message through one heavy eyelid.

Riki: Random idea You should come visit sometime

You blink. Sit up a little.

You: …what? Riki: Like, no pressure. Just throwing it out there. I’ll even pay for the flight if it makes it easier.

You stare at your screen like it just called you by your middle name.

You: Uhh. Red flag alert. Guy offering to pay for your flight? That’s how true crime documentaries start. Riki: Rude. I don’t even own duct tape. You: That’s exactly what someone with duct tape would say. Riki: Touché.

You toss your phone onto the bed, pull the blanket over your face, and scream into it.

Then obviously you FaceTime your best friend.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

“You’re being dramatic,” she says, chewing a mouthful of chips. “You two have been talking nonstop for, what, three weeks?”

“Two and a half.”

“Exactly. That’s like, seven months in internet time. Honestly, if you were dating IRL, people would be asking when the wedding is.”

You throw your head back with a groan. “It’s not like that. We’re just… friends. Kind of. With... light sarcasm and subtle tension.”

“So... dating.”

“NO!”

She levels you with a look. “You like him.”

“I like the version of him that lives in my phone. That doesn’t mean he’s real.”

“Then FaceTime him.”

You blink. “What?”

“If you’re nervous he’s not who he says he is, video chat. If he’s a catfish, boom—case closed. If he’s real... then you’ll know.”

You sit with that for a second.

Then you do it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

The first FaceTime is awkward in a cute way. He’s lounging in a hoodie with messy hair and a controller in his lap. You’re in your worst pajama shirt, already regretting not putting on concealer.

But he smiles when he sees you—no hesitation, no filters, no pause.

“Yo,” he says like it’s no big deal.

“You’re real,” you blurt before you can stop yourself.

He laughs. “That’s what I was gonna say.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

One call turns into two.

Two turns into three.

Three turns into four—until it’s a quiet comfort, this unspoken ritual of being online together, even when you’re not talking.

You study. He games. Sometimes he curses under his breath. Sometimes you hum without realizing it. Neither of you hangs up first.

The screen just stays on.

And somewhere between late-night calls and sleepy “goodnights,” it stops feeling like a maybe.

It starts to feel like something real.

One night, while adjusting his mic and opening some game you don’t recognize, he says it again:

“You should come visit.”

This time, it sounds less like a joke.

And more like a hope.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

“You should come visit.”

It’s not the first time he’s said it. 

But this time… it’s different.

His voice is soft through your laptop speaker, his hoodie bunched up around his elbows as he clicks through some loading screen. You’re lying sideways on your bed, textbooks open, highlighter uncapped, but your focus vanished the second he said those four words.

You don’t answer right away. Just chew your lip and stare at the screen where he’s pretending not to look at you.

“That’s like the fifth time you’ve asked”

“I’m serious,” he says after a beat. “I mean… if you want to.”

There’s that voice again. Casual, light, no pressure. Like he’s talking about ordering takeout, not asking you to fly across the country and see if he’s actually the person you’ve been falling asleep on FaceTime with every night.

You close your textbook.

“Riki.”

He glances over. The game’s paused now. You can see the flicker of the screenlight reflected in his cheekbones. He looks tired. Warm. Real.

“Yeah?”

“You’re not like… secretly plotting to harvest my organs, right?”

He snorts. “I literally stream Minecraft, not organ trafficking.”

“Not a convincing alibi.”

He grins, then sobers. “I get it. It’s a big ask. But I meant it when I said I’d help. I’d book the flight. You’d stay at a hotel if you want, no pressure. I wouldn’t be weird.”

“That’s what all the weird ones say.”

“Okay,” he says, deadpan. “I’d be only a little weird. Like, manageable-weird. Charming-weird.”

You laugh, and that’s the problem.

Because you like him. More than you meant to.

You liked the idea of him at first. A distraction. A match your friend forced. But now… it’s not just the banter or the voice you’ve memorized or the ridiculous way he says “dude” when he’s excited.

It’s how he makes you feel like the only person in the room—even through a screen.

And that? That’s dangerous.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

The next day, you bring it up to your best friend over lunch.

Her response is immediate: “You have to go.”

You blink. “Okay, but what if he’s not—”

“You FaceTime him literally every night.”

“What if he’s different in person?”

“He watches K-dramas and talks to your dog through the phone. You already know him better than half the guys you’ve actually dated.”

You stare at your untouched sandwich.

“I just…” You swallow. “What if I go and it ruins it?”

She’s quiet for once.

Then: “What if you don’t… and it ruins you?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

That night, you don’t say yes.

You say, “I’m thinking about it.”

You say, “It’s a maybe.”

And he doesn’t push.

Instead, he smiles at you—gentle and slow, like he knows you’re a scared thing on the edge of something, and he’s not going to rush you off it.

“I can wait,” he says simply.

You believe him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

The next week, something shifts.

Not in a dramatic way—no confessions, no intense moment of clarity—but in all the quiet ways that matter more.

You fall asleep on call, and he whispers, “Goodnight,” like a secret. You wake up to a message from him with a screenshot of a dumb meme he swears “just felt like you.” He starts calling you by your name more, not just your username.

One night, in the middle of a game, he glances at his screen and says, out of nowhere: “Do you always look at me like that?”

You blink. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying not to.”

You don’t have an answer.

So you call again. And again.

By the time it’s the sixth night in a row, you’re not even nervous anymore. You’re just… used to it. Comfortable. You study, he plays. You breathe. He listens.

Sometimes you don’t talk for twenty minutes.

And it feels like home.

That night, he says it again—quieter this time.

“You should come visit.”

And this time… You don’t say no.

You just look at him—pixelated and beautiful—and whisper, “Maybe.”

And he smiles like maybe is everything.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

It starts with a ticket in your inbox.

No subject line. No message. Just an email that reads:

“Your flight to Seoul has been confirmed.”

You blink.

Then your phone buzzes.

Riki: Don’t panic. You can still say no. I’ll cancel it in a second if you’re uncomfortable. Just… wanted to make it real. In case you say yes.

Your heart is doing weird things.

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard, your thoughts a loud chorus of what ifs and you’re crazy and this boy could be everything or nothing or both.

You: Give me three days. If I don’t back out by then… I’ll go.

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

You don’t back out.

Your friend screams when you tell her. She helps you pack—overpacks, really—like you’re heading into battle instead of a long weekend. She even shoves a tiny pink can of pepper spray in your purse “just in case he’s secretly a weirdo.”

(You both know he’s not. But still. Pepper spray is ✨ aesthetic ✨.)

The night before the flight, you barely sleep. You FaceTime Riki and end up playing “21 questions” until 2am, your voices slow and sleepy.

“What if it’s weird?” you ask.

“What if it’s not?” he replies.

You hate that that makes you smile.

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

At the airport, your nerves riot inside you. The terminal smells like pretzels and nerves and new beginnings.

By the time the plane lands, your hands are cold and your thoughts are loud.

You look around baggage claim, eyes darting.

Then—you see him.

He’s leaning against a pillar, hoodie half-zipped, hair tucked under a black cap. There’s a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He’s scrolling his phone, one hand in his pocket.

He doesn’t see you yet.

And in that second, you think—he looks like trouble. But the good kind.

Then he looks up.

And smiles.

Not the polite kind. Not the awkward oh-hi-nice-to-meet-you kind.

The I know you already kind.

And just like that— You’re not nervous anymore.

The first five minutes are weird.

Of course they are.

You both talk too fast. Or not at all. He goes in for a hug, and you kind of flinch, so he backs off and jokes, “Guess I deserved that.” And you say, “No, I’m just—processing,” and then neither of you talk for five minutes straight in the car.

But then he says, “You hungry?” And you say, “Always.”

And suddenly… you’re fine again.

The first night is a blur of fast food eaten in his car, music playing low, and a midnight walk through a neighborhood you don’t know but don’t mind getting lost in.

At one point, he bumps his shoulder into yours and says, “You’re taller than I expected.”

You deadpan, “You’re not.”

He laughs so hard he nearly drops his drink.

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

The next day, you hang out at his place.

He’s more nervous than you’ve ever seen him—rambling about his cable setup, offering snacks every five seconds, adjusting his monitor like he’s auditioning for HGTV.

But you sit on his bed, cross-legged, and just watch.

And after a while, he calms down.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he mumbles.

You shrug. “You’re real.”

He gives you a look. “Still convinced I was a catfish?”

“No,” you say. “But this part still doesn’t feel real.”

He sits beside you. Not touching. Just close.

“Same.”

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

At night, you fall asleep on his couch watching him game—your legs draped over his lap, your heart refusing to chill out. You pretend to be tired just to stay where you are.

He doesn’t move.

Just shifts the blanket higher over your knees, one hand resting lightly on your shin. You catch him glance at you once. Twice.

But he never says what you both know.

Not yet.

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

And then—on the last night—you’re both lying side by side, watching some movie neither of you are really paying attention to. His fingers are brushing against yours on the bedspread. Barely. But enough.

He turns his head. “Hey.”

You look at him.

He looks nervous.

“Do you ever think… if we’d met in person first, it wouldn’t have worked?”

You blink. “Why?”

“I think I needed to know you before I liked you. Like, for real. The real you.”

You smile. “I was a mess when we met.”

He laughs. “You still are.”

You kick his leg. “Hey.”

He looks at you then—really looks.

“Still the best kind of mess I’ve ever met.”

Your breath catches.

But before either of you can say anything else—your phone buzzes. Loud. Jarring.

You frown and reach for it, expecting your friend checking in.

It’s not.

It’s a direct message request.

From someone you don’t recognize.

And it says:

“You think you’re the only one he’s talking to?”

Your blood goes cold.

You look up.

And Riki—still smiling, still relaxed—doesn’t notice the shift in your face.

Yet.

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

You read the message again.

“You think you’re the only one he’s talking to?”

The screen blurs. Your chest tightens. The room—warm and dim and full of the scent of Riki’s hoodie you’ve been curled in—suddenly feels foreign. Hollow.

Riki says something beside you. A dumb joke. You don’t hear it.

“Hey.” His voice cuts through. “You okay?”

You lock your phone and force a smile. “Yeah. Just my friend checking in.”

A lie.

You’ve never lied to him before.

It feels worse than the message.

You try to ignore it. Brush it off. A troll. A bot. A jealous girl with no life. Whatever.

But the message festers.

The next day, you wake up to another.

“I hope he told you about me. Or about our FaceTimes.”

You don’t reply. You can’t.

You don’t know what to believe.

So instead, you test him.

���Hey,” you say casually, the next time you’re lying on the couch with him.

“Hmm?” he says, eyes on his screen.

“You ever… talk to other girls on here? Like, before me?”

He pauses. Glances at you. “You mean on Tinder?”

You shrug. “Or in general.”

He leans back. “I mean, yeah. Before you. But nothing like this. Nothing real.”

You nod. Try to smile. But the words loop in your head.

Before you. Before you. Before you.

But what if before never ended?

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

By the third message, it’s not subtle anymore.

“He sent me the same flight email. I still have it.” [Attached: a screenshot]

Same subject line. Same dates. Different name.

You feel sick.

You don’t want to accuse him. You don’t want to need to.

So you ask.

“Riki… have you ever done this before?”

He blinks. “Done what?”

“This. Flying someone out. Meeting people from the app.”

There’s a beat.

Then: “Why are you asking?”

He doesn’t deny it.

And that hurts more than any answer.

You go silent.

The car ride back to the hotel is heavy.

He notices. Of course he does.

“Okay,” he says, pulling into the parking lot. “What’s going on?”

You don’t look at him. “Just tired.”

“You’re lying.”

You snap. “So are you.”

He goes quiet.

The kind of quiet that confirms everything.

You swallow. “Someone messaged me. Said you were FaceTiming them. Said you flew them out. Same message. Same dates.”

His jaw tightens. “It’s not what you think.”

You laugh, sharp. “That’s funny, because it looks exactly like what I think.”

Then—softer: “I didn’t expect this to be perfect, Riki. I just didn’t want to be stupid for trusting you.”

He doesn’t say anything.

And that silence? It feels like betrayal.

You go inside the hotel alone.

The second the door closes behind you, you slide to the floor.

You don’t cry. Not yet. You’re not sure you’re allowed to. Not for someone who was never yours.

But your phone buzzes again.

Riki: I didn’t lie. Not about you. Can we talk?

And you don’t know if you’re ready.

But your heart?

It already misses him.

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

You don’t answer his messages.

Not at first.

Not because you want to punish him—but because you’re scared that if you open the door, you’ll let him talk you back into something that maybe wasn’t even real.

You need space. He gives it to you. For about twelve hours.

Then your phone rings.

It’s your friend.

“You need to check Twitter,” she says.

Your stomach drops. “What?”

“Just… look.”

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

It’s a clip.

From one of Riki’s streams.

He’s laughing in it, leaned back in his chair, wearing a hoodie you recognize because you wore it two nights ago.

One of his friends says something off-screen:

“So you’re just gonna disappear for four days and not explain why?”

Riki shrugs. “I’m flying someone out.”

“A girl?”

He grins. “The girl.”

The chat explodes. Emojis. Screaming.

His friend hoots. “You’re in love.”

Riki doesn’t deny it.

Just goes quiet for a second. Then says, low and sure,

“She’s different. You’ll see.”

You stare at the screen.

Your breath stutters.

You scroll down. The comments are a storm. Most of them are pure chaos and ship names and thirsty fans screaming “SOFT LAUNCH???”

But some…

Some are ugly.

And one account keeps showing up.

One you recognize from the message requests.

@ KikiLuvsRiki: don’t fall for his act. i used to be “different” too. he just wants content. @ KikiLuvsRiki: bet he sent her the same flight confirmation template he used last year LMFAO.

Your hands shake.

Then a post from her, timestamped four hours ago:

“Imagine thinking you’re special to someone who rehearsed the same lines with me. He just swapped the name.”

There’s a screenshot attached.

Of a flight confirmation email.

But it’s dated last year.

Same airline. Different destination. Different name.

But the same tone.

You click the profile.

Scroll.

And what you find?

It’s not a random hater.

It’s his ex.

That night, your phone rings again.

Riki.

You don’t want to answer.

You do anyway.

“I should’ve told you,” he says, voice low, rough. “I just didn’t think she’d find out. I didn’t think it would matter.”

You sit on the edge of the hotel bed, silent.

“I mentioned you on stream. I never do that. You know I don’t. And I didn’t even say your name—I was just… talking. I couldn’t help it. I was excited. I’m always careful, but this time I wasn’t.”

“Because of me?”

“Yeah,” he says, barely a whisper. “Because of you.”

Your heart twists.

“She saw the stream,” he adds. “And I guess she still had old screenshots or whatever. She’s not wrong—I flew her out once. A long time ago. We weren’t even a thing for more than a couple weeks, but she stuck around online. And when I stopped responding, she got weird.”

You exhale. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was scared you’d think I was doing the same thing again. That I was collecting girls off the internet and making them fall for me or something.”

“And aren’t you?” you ask, voice quiet.

Silence.

Then:

“No.” “I wasn’t trying with anyone else.” “I didn’t even plan to swipe on your profile. I saw you, and it just—hit me. Harder than I expected. You weren’t just pretty. You looked real. Like someone I could ruin myself for if I wasn’t careful.”

You bite your lip.

He continues. “I didn’t swipe right first. But when we matched… I knew. I’ve never been like this with anyone else. Not even her.”

Your chest aches.

“But I should’ve told you,” he says. “That’s on me. I’ll make it up to you. Or I won’t. If this ruins it, I’ll live with that. But you deserved the truth.”

You let the silence sit.

It’s not that you don’t believe him.

It’s that you want to.

And maybe that scares you most of all.

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

The airport feels colder than it should.

Maybe it’s the early flight. Maybe it’s the sleep you didn’t get. Maybe it’s because you thought he’d fight harder.

You roll your suitcase forward.

Every step feels heavier than it should. Like maybe your heart stayed back at the hotel. Or in that voicemail you haven’t listened to yet.

“I get it if you’re done. But I’m not.” “Not with you.”

You clench your jaw. Shake your head. Keep walking.

You did what you were supposed to.

You gave him a chance to explain. You didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. Didn’t make a scene when your feelings got kicked around like some bonus level prize in his online world.

You let him talk.

You just didn’t stay.

Not this time.

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

Your gate is five minutes away.

You wrap your arms around yourself and try not to think.

The check-in lady takes your ID.

“Round trip?” she asks, typing.

You hesitate. Then shake your head.

“Just one way.”

She nods, unfazed. Prints your ticket.

You turn around—

And nearly crash into him.

Riki. Standing there. Breathless. Hoodie crooked. Hair messy. Like he ran.

And didn’t stop.

You freeze. “What—how did you—?”

“I tracked your flight.” His voice is hoarse. “Don’t be mad.”

You blink. “Are you serious right now?”

He swallows hard. “I wasn’t gonna let you leave thinking I didn’t mean it. That you were just some... random screen name.”

“Riki—”

“No,” he says, stepping closer. “Let me talk. Please.”

Your heart races. Your throat tightens.

He exhales. “I don’t care who’s watching. I don’t care if this is pathetic. I’ve never wanted something like this before. Not like this. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You don’t say anything.

He runs a hand through his hair.

“I messed up,” he says. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve known she'd try something the second I opened up. That’s on me. But don’t let her be the reason we don’t happen.”

You feel the tears sting before they fall.

He sees it.

Softens.

Steps forward like he’s trying not to scare you off.

“I’ve never had what we have,” he whispers. “The FaceTimes. The quiet. The way I don’t need to perform when I’m with you. You didn’t fall for the persona. You fell for me. And I—I need you to know I fell right back.”

You sniff. Wipe your eyes.

“And if that means I have to fly to every city you run to just to say it again, I will.”

You meet his eyes.

“I wanted to believe you,” you say. “I still do.”

“Then do,” he whispers. “Let me prove it.”

You pause.

Search his face.

And for the first time in days, the panic starts to melt. The ache eases.

Not completely. But enough.

You step closer.

And his shoulders drop—like he was holding his breath for too long.

“I hate you,” you whisper.

He smiles.

“No you don’t.”

You shake your head. “I don’t.”

Then, softer: “You’re lucky I like dramatic airport gestures.”

And when you wrap your arms around him, burying your face into the hoodie you never gave back—he just holds you.

Not like he won.

Like he’s grateful you stayed.

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

BONUS :)

Later, after the flight you didn’t take…

You’re on his stream.

Just your voice.

He reads a question from chat:

“Are you guys together now?”

He looks at you off-camera.

Smiles.

Then to the chat: “She’s sitting right here, isn’t she?”

You groan. “You’re so annoying.”

He grins wider. “But you like me.”

And you don’t deny it.

Not this time.

tl: (read rules before asking to be added to any list ᥫ᭡. )

[girlactionfigure]

let Anne Frank rest

NOVEMBER 11, 2024

THIS IS DISRESPECTFUL

ANNE, MARGOT, THEIR MOTHER, AND FATHER WERE ZIONISTS

Here’s the thing: we have absolutely no way of knowing how Anne Frank would feel about today’s Israel-Hamas war, because her life was brutally cut short by the Nazis at just 15 years old. Is it possible that she would be attending pro-Palestine marches and donning keffiyehs? Sure, it’s possible. A minority of Jews do that.  

Here’s what we know for sure: in her own famous diary, Anne Frank wrote that she was interested in Zionism. Her sister, Margot Frank, was an ardent Zionist. She joined the Dutch Zionist youth club in 1941, and hoped to make aliyah (immigrate) to Mandatory Palestine, where she planned on becoming a midwife for the Yishuv (pre-state Jewish community in Palestine).

Otto Frank, the only family member to survive the war, was very, very strongly pro-Israel, particularly after the Holocaust (whereas beforehand, he was slightly more ambivalent, though never anti-Zionist). In fact, in the 1970s, Otto had a disagreement with the Anne Frank House, as he demanded that the museum’s statutes explicitly affirm Israel’s right to exist — a right much of today’s keffiyeh-wearing pro-Palestine movement doesn’t accept.

We don’t know how Anne would feel today. But we do know how most Holocaust survivors feel. Not only do most Holocaust survivors -- like most Jews -- support Israel, but 49% of today’s remaining 245,000 survivors live in Israel. It’s even possible that Anne may have moved to Israel had she survived the war; after all, Israel absorbed nearly 400,000 Holocaust survivor refugees between 1946-1952, including Anne’s childhood best friend, Hanna Goslar.

APPROPRIATION OF OUR TRAUMA, AGAIN

I’ve talked about Holocaust inversion on this account for years. I have numerous posts on it, with more coming. But perhaps I haven’t made this explicitly clear yet: Holocaust inversion -- that is, the depiction of Jews and/or Israelis as Nazis, crypto-Nazis, or “worse than the Nazis” and the Palestinians as the “true” victims of the Holocaust -- is a blatant appropriation of the Jewish people’s worst collective trauma.  

That is not to say that Palestinians don’t endure pain. Of course they do, and pain and trauma can’t exactly be quantified. But this obsession with stripping Jews of our very unique, deeply painful experience and placing it onto someone else is deeply offensive. At a certain point, it almost looks like these people have Holocaust envy, which is bizarre and frankly deeply disturbing.  

Why would you want this? For six years, the international community stood by as nearly 70% of Europe’s Jewish population was exterminated in the most industrialized genocide in human history. Countries all over the world shut their doors to Jewish refugees. The Allies refused to bomb the death camps and the railroads leading to the camps, despite the desperate pleas from the Jewish community. In 1939, there were 16.6 million Jews in the world. Today, 85 years later, we just scrape 15 million. This is not what has ever happened to Palestinians, whose population has not decreased by even half a percentage point since 1948, not even since October 7, and not even in Gaza (as there have been more births than deaths, according to Hamas and Save the Children). 

Even more infuriating? Not even did Palestinian Arab leadership collaborate with the Nazis during the Holocaust -- and in 1948 -- but public opinion polls from the time period demonstrate most Palestinian Arabs favored Nazi Germany. Enough. You don’t get to take this one from us, because your ancestors, too, were complicit during the Holocaust.

STOP IMPOSING IDENTITIES ON JEWS

As I explained in a recent post, antisemitism can arguably be divided into two categories: (1) “Nazi antisemitism,” which seeks to eliminate Jews physically, and (2) “Hanukkah antisemitism,” which seeks to strip Jews of the qualities that make us Jewish. In other words, forced assimilation.

Anne Frank was a Jewish child. She was born in Germany and later became Dutch. Never in her lifetime would she have worn a Palestinian keffiyeh, because at the time, the Palestinian keffiyeh was the official uniform of British officer Sir John Bagot Glubb’s “Desert Patrol,” comprised of Palestinian and Jordanian Arab Bedouins who were loyal to the British police force in Mandatory Palestine. Since Anne Frank was neither a Bedouin nor a member of Glubb’s Desert Patrol, putting the keffiyeh on her -- a murdered child -- is nothing but imposing an identity on her that isn’t hers.  

Maybe this sounds dramatic, or like it shouldn’t be a big deal. But this is also part of a larger pattern of Palestinians appropriating Jewish historical figures and claiming them as their own (the Jesus comes to mind).

And this is not a matter of doing this just to historical figures, but to living, breathing Jews. For example, several of the released Hamas hostages testified that Hamas threatened to forcibly convert them to Islam, much like their ancestors once did to ours when they conquered the Holy Land from the Byzantines in the 7th century.

IF YOU ACTUALLY CARED ABOUT ANNE FRANK, YOU WOULD CARE ABOUT THIS

On November 7, 2024, a premeditated pogrom took place in the streets of Amsterdam -- Anne Frank’s Amsterdam.

Thousands of pro-Palestinians supporters ambushed Israeli Maccabi Tel Aviv fans as they were leaving a Maccabi Tel Aviv-AFC Ajax soccer match. Much like on October 7, the perpetrators live-streamed themselves stabbing Israelis and Jews, running over Israelis and Jews, throwing firecrackers at Israelis and Jews, and beating Israelis and Jews to a pulp, as the Amsterdam police looked the other way. They stole their phones and passports, and for some time, some of the victims were missing. Jews tried to hide in a canal, in boats, in a KFC, and more, just like the Franks hid in an attic. The perpetrators forced the victims to shout “free Palestine!” They attacked not just men, but women and children. Not all of the victims were Maccabi Tel Aviv fans, or Israelis, but all of the victims were Jews -- or perceived to be Jews.  

Of course, it wasn’t long until antisemites -- and the mainstream media -- spun the event, which, again, had not only been premeditated, but the perpetrators had dubbed “a Jew hunt” (in fact, it was so premeditated Israel had forewarned the Dutch police). They said it was simply soccer hooligans brawling, or that it happened because the day before, a few Israelis had torn down a Palestinian flag, or because some of the Maccabi fans had chanted racist chants. In this regard, they’re in terrible company: every pogrom in history has had its “justification;” sometimes the justification is based on a true event; other times, it’s pure fiction (e.g. blood libel). Kristallnacht, the pogrom that marks the beginning of the Holocaust, was excused because a Jew killed a German diplomat in Paris.

Are some Maccabi fans racist? It seems so. That’s no justification for an attempted lynching. Imagine if Jews tried to lynch pro-Palestinian protestors every time they chant antisemitic chants (“globalize the intifada,” “Khaybar, Khaybar ya Yahud,” for example), or every time an Israeli flag or hostage poster is torn down. None of us would have jobs, because this happens daily, multiple times a day, everywhere in the world.

For over a year, Dutch Jewish community leaders have warned of a hostile, dangerous environment for Jews in the Netherlands, and in Amsterdam more specifically. The Central Jewish Consultation, the official Jewish umbrella organization in the Netherlands, defined the November 7 mob attacks as a “pogrom” and tied it to the growing antisemitic climate in the country, which existed long before any Maccabi Tel Aviv fans showed up in Amsterdam.

As usual, however, antisemites are tokenizing the words of fringe Jews whose views are not representative of the community. 

The Chief Rabbi of the Netherlands also issued a damning statement, noting the hostile, antisemitic climate in the country.

The above is true. But this is not a one-off event. The Netherlands has been failing the Jewish community for a long, long time. These situations don’t escalate out of nowhere. Instead of offering us your apologies and condolences after the fact, take decisive action.

For a full bibliography of my sources, please head over to my Instagram and  Patreon. 

rootsmetals

another post I started working on before November 7 that suddenly became very relevant…

[hunkpossession0]

Stealing my former high school bully’s body was so easyyy. Look, now I am hot, and the best part is that I’m gay.

I leaned back in the plush leather seat of his—no, my—new car, savoring the feeling of power. God, I’d waited so long for this. All those years of torment, the sneers, the shoves into lockers, the homophobic slurs... they were all a distant memory now, fading away like smoke. The only thing that mattered was this body I was now inhabiting, perfectly sculpted and oozing confidence.

I smirked at the reflection in the rearview mirror. His—my—strong jawline, the chiseled features that had made everyone swoon, and those piercing blue eyes that used to look down on me with contempt were now mine to control. And control them I would.

The plan had come to me after a particularly rough night, one too many drinks mixed with the lingering bitterness of my high school years. I’d always been obsessed with the idea of revenge, but not the kind that left scars. I wanted something deeper, more satisfying. I wanted to become him. To live the life he’d never appreciated and do it better.

It wasn’t hard to find a spell. You’d be surprised at how many dark corners of the internet are devoted to body swapping. A few emails, a payment sent in crypto, and a strange-looking amulet later, I was ready. The ritual was simple enough—though it took a lot of concentration. But the moment I slipped it around his neck while he slept, it was over in seconds. I woke up in his bed, in his skin, and he… well, I don’t know where he is now. I like to imagine he’s trapped somewhere, conscious of what’s happening but completely powerless.

The first thing I did was check myself out in the mirror—really take in everything I’d just acquired. This body wasn’t just hot; it was perfect. Years of disciplined workouts, clean eating, and who knows what else had transformed him into someone who looked like they walked straight off a magazine cover.

Actually, make that literally off a magazine cover. I found a stack of fashion magazines under his bed with his stupidly gorgeous face plastered on them. He’d somehow turned his pretty-boy looks and gym rat habits into a full-fledged modeling career. I guess that explained the ridiculous number of selfies on his phone, each one showing off a different outfit or a perfectly timed flex in front of the mirror.

So yeah, I wasn’t giving up the gym. If anything, I was leaning into it. It’s not like I had to do much to maintain this body—he’d already done the hard work, and now I was reaping the benefits. I still hit the gym daily, if only to flex for the mirrors and admire my reflection. The attention I get now is incredible, and the best part is, I can be shameless about it.

Of course, I couldn’t wait to see what Grindr was like from this side of things. Installing the app was the first thing I did once I figured out the password to his phone. The moment I uploaded a shirtless pic, the notifications started rolling in—an endless stream of thirsty messages. Guys were practically lining up for a chance with me, throwing compliments, and I have to admit, I loved every second of it.

I’d spend hours swiping through profiles, chatting up whoever caught my eye. The way people reacted to me now was night and day compared to before. No more awkward small talk, no more second-guessing myself. I could tell someone to meet me at the gym just to watch me lift, and they’d show up without hesitation.

And the best part? I’ve started getting more gigs, just from a few posts on social media showing off his—no, my—body. Modeling agencies are all about that lean muscle, those killer cheekbones, that smirk that could melt anyone on the other end of the camera. He’d never really appreciated what he had, but I’m about to take this career to the next level. I’ve already got a photoshoot lined up for some luxury brand—an easy way to rake in the cash while showing off.

His—my—Instagram is blowing up too. I’m always in the gym, flexing and posting thirst traps for the masses. The likes pour in, and the comments? They’re pure gold. People are practically worshipping me, and I’ve only just begun. This body was wasted on him, but now that it’s mine, I’m going to enjoy every moment of it.

Every time I flex, every time I see a new message pop up on Grindr, it’s a reminder of just how sweet this revenge is. Not only did I take his body, but I’m living his life better than he ever could. I’m hotter, more confident, and finally free to be myself in the best possible way.

This is just the beginning.

[would-you-punt-them]

Anyway some new updates on the Beast situation were made. Not going into specifics but a few of the things Dogpack was going into were either fabricated or slightly manipulated. Obviously this doesn't change what Jimmy did is still shady

Yeah, I've been seeing people saying that, so I'm guessing this is about SoggyCereal's 90-minute video "exposing" DogPack from 4 days ago.

But having seen the video, I think it is itself ridiculously manipulative in a lot of ways, and as of right now I'm hesitant to consider the source trustworthy.

In the final third of the video Soggy flies out to America and goes to MrBeast HQ in North Carolina to conduct some interviews with current employees who used to work with DogPack. He also later admitted that a MrBeast employee paid for his international flight.

These interviews take place in a room at MrBeast HQ, with people who are currently working for the company.

In other words, SoggyCereal contacted MrBeast and requested an interview with employees who worked with DogPack for his YouTube video responding to DogPack's specific talking points and calling him a liar for an hour and a half.

So, MrBeast prepared an interview space in their headquarters (with professional lighting, sound, and cameras all set up) and hand-picked some of their current employees to give pre-prepared anecdotal evidence that they thought DogPack was a douche who made them uncomfortable, and then heavily-edited snippets of these interviews featured in the video.

Soggy did an interview himself the next day (it's also where he revealed his flight was paid for) where he insisted that these employees weren't selected and the interviews were fully unbiased and unprepared, but that is impossible to believe. As far as I'm concerned, this entire portion of the video can't be trusted.

But unsurprisingly, MrBeast has been pushing this video like crazy. Multiple drama YouTubers (including Pyrocynical and Spill Sesh) have revealed that Jimmy had personally messaged them with a link to the video, and encouraged them to cover it.

People have been theorising that this whole thing is part of a ploy by the MrBeast company, who knew that this positive video was being made. The suspicion is that the MrBeast company had employees reach out to SoggyCereal and supply him with "evidence" that discredits and slanders DogPack.

He even managed to get a hold of the full audio recording of DogPack being fired, where he begs for his job back. He presents this as proof that DogPack is a disgruntled employee, like what MrBeast's PR team have been implying.

Okay, but like... how in the hell would he gain access to that kind of sensitive information? He doesn't cite any kind of source, he doesn't even claim it was an anonymous leak. He also gives a lot of other very specific behind-the-scenes information that disprove various individual claims made by DogPack, even claims that were mentioned for like five seconds in DogPack's original video.

In contrast, Coffeezilla, who was making a video on the allegation that Jimmy has been conducting fraudulent crypto scams (it came out 5 days ago), reached out to MrBeast repeatedly to fact-check, and MrBeast refused to reply, other than with a single statement from their legal team. MrBeast hasn't responded to any other allegation publicly. And yet SoggyCereal suddenly has access to a mountain of insider information and full cooperation from MrBeast. It seems likely they're using SoggyCereal as a mouthpiece to slander DogPack while avoiding making any kind of statement themselves.

Jimmy also commented on SoggyCereal's video itself on the day it was first posted, even though it still only had a couple thousand views at the time.

He later deleted that comment, because it's just a terrible look, and supports what we already knew: that Jimmy was well-aware that this video was about to come out.

There are legitimate reasons to criticise DogPack, as he has made serious errors over the course of this drama, a lot of which he has acknowledged (including the James Warren thing, which he was rightfully criticised for heavily).

And this video shouldn't be discounted in its entirety, as it has raised some questions about DogPack. It does expose some worrying factual inaccuracies in the major accusations, and does seemingly expose some shady behaviour on his part. So, those points are valid (although I do consider the way Soggy presents them as manipulative).

But people have been saying (mostly in clickbait titles) that this somehow exonerates MrBeast, when that couldn't be further from the truth. That's just how drama YouTube works. To get people's attention, there has to be a hero and a villain. Either everything DogPack and Rosanna say is true, or nothing is and they should burn in hell. There is no middle ground.

As it stands, take any of the clickbait tweets, videos and articles saying anything has changed with a grain of salt.

That's all this is: clickbait.

In my opinion, the situation hasn't changed significantly. The main takeaway is that MrBeast is even more desparate than we thought.

[mariacallous]

this isn’t directed at you at all but rather just like, if you would like to post this: i am finding it increasingly frustrating that for the third election in a row people are dismissing voters for “voting against their best interests” (economically) instead of brainstorming how we can better understand, appeal to, and address those interests as they are perceived by what is now a solidly winning majority of voters. i’ve seen a lot of takes lately that insist the economy isn’t even bad currently and it’s like… are we NOT living in late stage capitalism anymore?? did that just go away now that we need an excuse for why we lost?? there’s just a lot of finger pointing and i fear none of them are pointed the right way.

This assumes that there's some level of rational and coherent approach. People voted for Trump because they think he'll pay the national debt in crypto, that he gave them money before and he'll do it again, that he'll get rid of the people they don't like, that he'll let them do what they want. They voted for him because we are in a global anti-incumbent party environment with people angry that the consumption and spending from the pandemic led to higher prices and companies taking advantage of that to raise prices more and let the blame fall on the policies and governance. They're mad that their own actions led to this when they don't deserve it because they just don't deserve it - someone else does, though.

We fully understand them.

Also, I'm sorry I'm not sorry, but the economy *isn't* currently bad on pretty much every major indicator - inflation has lowered, unemployment is at the lowest its been in a very very very fucking long time, domestic manufacturing jobs are high, billions was poured into all sorts of places outside major metro bubbles, the stock market has consistently performed exceptionally well, the pension funds got bailed out, labor rights have been having the strongest advocates and protections in decades, the government announces a new penalty and crackdown on businesses exploiting consumers pretty much every week, billions in student loans have been forgiven in spite of almost unrestrained opposition, and "late stage capitalism" isn't something we can bring to these voters and non-voters. Because they remembered eggs were expensive at one point and a burrito cost $18 on uber eats and saw people posting their whole foods and trader joe's and deliberately expensive grocery orders.

I'm not saying there's not a lot of inequality or fucked up issues - housing is unreasonably expensive and difficult to find being a prime example - but so much of this election was vibes and misunderstanding and willful ignorance. Voters wanted to be told what they wanted to hear, and they got it. And now we'll all get it.

[laboratory-for-peace]

HIHIIYA!! do you have any crack hcs, or serious hcs of the MADS members?

Oh man, I think I have a thousand little ideas for about every One Piece character I've spent 2 seconds thinking about, be it villains or not.

It's one of those cases where it's nothing concrete or big, and a lot of it verges on "character analysis" rather than headcanon, so I have a hard time listing specific things. But talking about all the big theory stuff or deep character analysis would probably be not what you're asking for + I'm not focused enough to do that right now, so let me think of some funny inconsequential stuff.

I don't know. Fuck. It's like I forgot every thought I've had about these science jerks. Idk. Caesar can't smell anything anymore due to all the toxic gas and chemicals burning his nostrils for years. Judge has severe back pain due to being 270-something cm tall and also in his 50s (and he deserves every second of it). Queen didn't loose his arm in an accident, he chopped it off on purpose to give himself a sick robot arm. All of them would have the most severe presbyopia right now were they not some of the few people on the Blue Planet with access to corrective eye surgery. Screw it, Stella didn't make the Satellites' consciousness via Brain-Brain fruit he was simply plural already, he just used the fruit to add a sense of concreteness to them and help with the android body inhabitation. Ms. Buckin' has a serious gambling addiction and got scammed by whatever the OP universe version of crypto is.

Joke headcanons aside.... let me think of more interesting stuff. Long post so it goes under the cut. You've been warned.

I''m fully convinced Queen made the Marys. Was that ever confirmed or touched upon? It's insane to me that canon never like, explained their existence. That makes total sense, right? Are all of them like, robots/artificial lifeforms, or are they cyborgs like Queen himself, and were once living beings? I think if he made them, either way, he has a funny uncle-niece relationship with Bao Huang. He's metaphorically giving her a gun and going "hell yeah go do crime little dudette". Also I like to think whoever the mother of his abandoned son was, was probably another member of the Beast Pirates. Also a big part of his rivalry with King definitely comes from the fact that King doesn't Trust Scientists after what happened in his childhood, and Queen knows that and tries to intentionally make him uneasy because he finds it entertaining.

I'm convinced of the "Caesar has some sheep/goat Mink ancestry" thing, it makes full sense. Even in a post-"horns in humans tend to signify Ancient Giant ancestry"-reveal world, I think the design of them looks too much like sheep/goat horns, rather than the more bovine design we've seen from everyone else. I know this is boring "everyone has this headcanon at this point" territory, but it just makes full sense to me. As a character in general, I think he's very easy to read, so I don't know if I have anything more unique to say about him. In my head, the reason he got hired at like, a very young age to join MADS, is because he gained a name for himself in the Underworld by doing some sort of horrific bio-terrorism type experiment that left a bunch of like, Marines dead or something, when he was a kid, and that put his name on Lu Feld's ears.

As for Judge, that piece of shit and his stupid little family have enough juice from being featured heavily in an entire arc that it's super easy to come up with a lot of things about them. I think for starters, his marriage with Sora was most likely arranged, mirroring WCI. It seems to be how royalty does things. I do wonder who Sora's family was before that, though, and how she ended up there.... Too many questions without answers until we get like an SBS or something. It'd be really poetic if she was from a royal East Blue family or something, considering Sanji ended up there... Also, I think that him being allowed to fuck off from whatever his royal duties might have been, at a very young age, and join MADS is interesting. So in my head, whoever the previous king / his father was, he was probably one of the funders of MADS. Both as a desire to invest in weapons for Germa, and to feel that he had a sense of control over whatever his (presumably only) son was doing. Also I think Judge and Queen had a Sanji vs Zoro type rivalry, obviously. He got called "twirly-brows" (derogatory) at LEAST once by him. I also like to think a lot of his horrific hypocrisy comes from a place of disgusting projection and insecurity. This man definitely grew up being a weak crybaby until his horrid ideology and pampered upbringing forced him out of it.

Ms. Buckingham is a VERY interesting one, because I feel like we already know a lot about her and also absolutely nothing. The Rocks Pirates are for sure a group we'll get more flashbacks on, eventually. Looking at the timeline, I like to think that after she saw her own clone (being the first ever successful human clone), she immediately started attempting to create Weevil. I like to think this was somehow her way of getting "revenge" on Newgate for "dumping her" or some petty motivation like that, on top of desiring his strength. That boy is a (not-so-successful) clone for sure. The Rocks Pirates had recently been dismantled at that point. I don't think it's a coincidence that Weevil is 35 and Stussy (clone) is 36 lol. It looks like she saw, she immediately tried to copy, she failed.

And for Stella.... now that's a man who's entire history we kind of already know of. There's so many good meta and analysis posts around Tumblr, even stuff I've written, so I'm not sure what to add. The plurality thing wasn't a joke. But other than that, I think that -to combine this with a Stussy (clone) headcanon, he was forced by the WG to hand her off as a Cipher Pol agent. 26 years ago, as an exchange for Not Getting Arrested and instead Being Hired by them. She would have been exactly 10 years old at the time (temporally; with her being a clone, we don't know what physical and mental age she would have been). He must have been raising her until that point, right? He was her creator. I think that the WG made a demand that she's taken as an agent, and like any father, I like to think Stella was reluctant to hand her over at first, but eventually decided it'd be safer for her too. He'd been Underworld so far, he was going to comply to most demands the WG made for him in order to keep his new position. But of course, seeing Stussy's faith to him in Egghead, she definitely kept contact with her father throughout the years, even while in Cipher Pol, even if it was in secret.

Those are my very cool MADS headcanons thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

[mymurderboisreanimated]

Do you think Nam Gyu actually lost money because he bought into MG Coin's crypto crap or did he just lie about it to get Thanos' friendship?

I mean obviously he wouldn't be in the games if he wasn't in crippling debt but what are the odds that he lost money because of MG Coin? I keep mentioning a lot in my posts about Thanos saying he and Nam Gyu "bonded through trauma"; this time let's just say he's just talking about losing money over the crypto scam.

Nam Gyu didn't seem nearly as upset and angry seeing MG Coin in the games compared to Thanos, who was completely devastated over the whole ordeal. I don't know maybe just seeing MG Coin in the games and realizing that MG Coin got scammed like everybody else made him feel a little bit better about the situation, or he didn't blame MG Coin the way Thanos did. Regardless, you'd think Nam Gyu would be at least a little bit more heated seeing MG Coin if he lost that much money. In fact, Nam Gyu hardly ever mentions being pressed about money at all crazy enough. We seen Nam Gyu get more pressed about Thanos trying to get girls' attention than he does about money.

Yeah Nam Gyu took some initiative picking on MG Coin but he never got violent with him until MG Coin attacked Thanos first(even though Thanos started the altercation technically)? So I honestly wonder if Nam Gyu really did get screwed over by MG Coin like Thanos was or if Nam Gyu was just saying anything to get Thanos to connect with him.

[witchinatree]

i have posted a LOT about the issues i had with season 4 of TUA but i'm going to say everything i've been thinking right here right now. i cannot get this shit out of my head.

i think a lot of it ties back to the flaws i noticed in season 3, they tried to take on too much and abandoned the previous storylines that were waiting for them (viktor's traumatic relationship with leonard, five's trauma in general, lila's parents dying because of five, DAVE, etc etc) and we were all expecting them to tie it all together in season 4

instead they just.. added more..???? jennifer and abigail were thrown in late season 3 and were just suddenly supposed to be super important to us (they were not.) the subway that takes you to other timelines (objectively cool as fuck, why is this only introduced in the last season of The Timeline Show)

and i'm still really upset that reginald is an alien because it makes no fucking sense. i always assumed he created the mystery 43 babies (why else would he seek them out and already have a plan for them) but the alien route was.. ill-fitting. i think it would've worked better if he fell in love with abigail, who was an alien and created marigold, and then his hubris and curiosity was what unleashed it into the world and doomed the timeline. "sure this mystery chemical destroyed the planet my wife is from but i'm reginald hargreeves so that won't happen to me!" [happens to him] also i wish abigail was not just used as "see! abuser not so bad! abuser have wife! he love wife :]" because. what. and then her weird complaints about reginald in episode 6 that came out of nowhere confused me. they just should've written her entirely different if they were gonna have her at all

AAALSO i hated that they regressed all of the characters back to how they were in season 1 (or worse??). luther was living in the old umbrella academy building because apparently he will never leave it?? after everything?? diego's life was different but he was still doing this weird job shit (discount batman and mail carrier are the same thing) and he was miserable with his loving wife and kids (who ARE you.). allison's husband left her again (what the hell raymond) and she was still the neglectful single mother of claire?? after EVERYTHING I KNOW I ALREADY SAID THAT BUT GOD. klaus actually had something going for him, if only his recovery wasn't made into a joke, and then he relapsed and got kidnapped and was just very.. season 1 klaus.. but with no ghost ben anymore. five.. eugh. he was not season 1 five he was just NotFive. crazy how they had a magnus archives crossover and just brought in NotThem to take five am i right guys. ben's also different because it's not the same ben from season 1 but they just made him really fucking mean. like worse than season 3 because there wasn't that underlying "please i just want to be loved" thing. crypto bro ben was funny as fuck though. and VIKTOR just fucked off by himself after working so hard to be part of the family again. glad he got to transition and become canada's #1 manslut but jesus, just abandoned everything you did to be part of the family huh.

my vision for the ending of TUA would go something like this

ending of season 3, pretty much the same but they all have their powers and reginald's head getting sliced in half did not reveal him to be some alien freak. also at some point abigail would have been introduced. i don't feel like rewriting season 3 too okay i'm cutting corners.

luther finds sloane when he goes back to where the umbrella academy building used to be, but it's now a very lovely apartment that the two of them live in together. they host all of the family gatherings for sentimental and space reasons. i think luther would explore the stripper idea but decide not to follow it because of sloane. sloane would be fine with it but luther would still get worried.

diego and lila live in the same house somewhat nearby. lila's family (they do get to be alive but lila does have to overcome the trauma of losing them while simultaneously getting them back) are their neighbors, it was the compromise they came to because diego wanted their house to be their space but lila wanted her family close. they have three kids who are each loved and names get to be in the fucking show. (looking at you mystery twin. grace and coco (?) didn't really get much attention either). they have a big backyard that the kids all play in together when they're visiting

allison and ray are still together and they have claire (maybe another kid...) they also live somewhat nearby the rest of the umbrella family because i refuse to let them separate. i don't have much to say about them other than RAY DID NOT WALK OUT ON HER.

klaus and dave live in allison and ray's neighborhood. maybe they adopted a kid? maybe they didn't? i think their family would be really cute either way. klaus is still overcoming his addiction and dave supports him through it. it's not made into a joke and actually gives klaus a lot of depth and emotional moments. also just in general dave meeting the rest of the family would be really really sweet

five gets to retire. he lives with viktor in my mind. full circle on viktor being the person who always waited for him and offered him a place to stay after he got home in season 1. five would not actually be getting a retirement pay because he has never had a real job so he's just vik's roommate now. he could have a romance plotline with a woman working at the department store down the street named delores. she looks familiar.

ben lives alone and works at a tech company? honestly i don't know what i would do with him in the pre-plot but it would not be put him in jail?? me personally. i think he would probably move further away than everyone else but stay close enough so he could visit sloane sometimes. he still feels like an outsider but doesn't know how to tell the umbrellas he wants to be their brother now

and viktor lives with sissy harlan and five (previously mentioned). his transition gets to actually be explored (PLEASE.), harlan is in therapy, and sissy is a strong working woman!! again i don't really know what to do with him pre-plot. just know he's the happiest he's ever been!!!

and just in general, a lot of this happiness from all of them comes from their powers and that they can finally be one big happy family together (whether ben likes it or not). setting up the inherent tragedy that comes with perfection

episode 1 opens by showing everything i just explained, the tragedy of getting everything you want or whatever the title was. their powers are still integral to their lives. they're either tied to their careers (luther would probably be like a wrestler or something again, diego could try police work again because i want that to be explored) or other aspects of their existence (allison still finds herself doubting how much of her life is real, klaus' relapses are always caused by his trauma surrounding ghosts, five sometimes space jumps when he wants to be alone [also i think he could feel some sort of shame/guilt because he lives with viktor and can't really contribute much without the commission. not really his fault though because of his insanely fucked timeline], ben uses the squid to carry things or grab things that are far away, and viktor plays the violin to help him remind himself that he is in control of his power now, and he won't end the world again)

the main conflict starts when ben meets a new woman named jennifer and shakes her hand when introducing himself (starting the marigold/durango reaction that builds very slowly throughout the season.) it could be romantic but i think it's just devestating. they're slowly realizing they're losing everything they worked so hard for because of something they can't control

yadda yadda yadda figuring shit out while also having conflicts in their life from the earlier seasons and it culminates in the old umbrella academy building, viktor is the only person who can remove the durango and marigold from ben and jennifer and save the world. he finally gets to be the hero, be the one to stop the end of the world instead of cause it, but he needs to take the marigold from each of the siblings in order to balance the amount of durango jennifer had (no idk why he would let the other like 30 something marigold kids keep theirs i really don't know how to fix that. why would they do this to me)

each of the siblings have to give up part of their lives, part of their identities, and it's hard for them!!! they struggle a lot to agree to do it!!! and it's also harder for them because they don't know if viktor will survive doing this. but he's the only one who can? is his life more important than the existence of everything and everyone? ultimately, they all give up their marigold, and viktor takes all of it and the durango to save everyone. it cancels itself out and stops the cleanse reaction, and i think it would kill viktor (but it doesn't have to). we see that same clip of the 'perfect world' but they get to be in it. they were never the problem. lila and diego play in the park with their kids. allison ray and claire are walking together. klaus and dave are talking on a bench. luther and sloane are carrying a large basket of food. ben and five are helping them set up the picnic. harlan is sitting in the grass with sissy next to him. each of the adults have a small violin tattoo on their wrists. their lives will never be as perfect as they were before, but they can finally just rest and move on. because it was never their fault.

also reginald dies. fuck that guy

[magnus-marmot]

I think P/S is Power/Stärke

I've been mulling around the DPHW, and I think I've almost got a complete model down. This is based on the quaternity on the OIAR logo (I explain that thought process here) and other observations. So far I'm somewhat certain that W/U = Weird/Unheimlich = Mercury, and H = Hunger = Luna. In this post I'll explain my thoughts on P.

The alchemical Sol and its symbolism

Like many symbols in alchemy, Sol is both the physical sun and physical gold as well as the metaphysical force they represent. It's the active principle (sometimes called Celestial Niter) that's the source of the active elements, fire and air, and the properties hot and dry. It's most commonly associated with fire, light, and both the noble and destructive qualities of a human psyche. Solar fire is a source of life and growth, but it's similarly capable of burning everything down. Sol contains in itself the metaphysical Sulphur, which is associated with the human soul, consciousness and emotions. But Sol is also gold, which is considered the perfect, incorruptible metal and the end goal of both literal and spiritual transformation. In Jung's psychological worldview, Sol represents the conscious ego, and it must be reconciled with the unconscious (Luna) to achieve individuation or the self (the Philosopher's Stone).

"The “ascending,” active part of him is called Sol, and it is only through this that the passive part can be perceived. The passive part therefore bears the name of Luna, because she borrows her light from the sun." (Carl Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis)

Sol as Power

The cases in TMAGP that have a high P value seem to share some common themes of violence, self-expression, obsessiveness and a sadistic sort of enjoyment. Some examples include Needles (P 8), Bonzo (P 6-7), the self-destructive crypto bro (P 6), and Ink5oul (P 5). (The P-dominant cases are relatively low as of right now.) I first thought it could stand for Passion, since it seems to convey the inner fire that drives these people. But Bonzo is very much less about passion than simple destructive urges, and the crypto bro is less passionate than he's greedy.

Power, however, fits all of them. It conveys the physical power, the destruction aspect, and the power over other people's lives as well as your own. These are incidents where the instigator is more or less conscious of their actions, and they're inflicting the change willingly, or at least knowingly. Compare to high H (Hunger=Luna) cases, where an external force is manifesting your inner fears/desires/trauma into reality. This is why Ink5ouls tattoos are P5 H6. It's partially about their own drive and power, but mostly about reflecting the victim's "heart's desire". It's through the light of Sol that the Luna can be perceived. (Though the P5 in those cases could be about the victims' own drive and not Ink5oul's. It's very difficult to know what contributes to the score.)

How Sol appears in the incidents

Let's first get the most literal representations out of the way. I think Sol manifests as the literal sun and/or gold, and probably some forms of fire too. In ep. 13, the crypto bro mentions looking at the setting sun twice, and both times he makes a major decision with the trading app (when he first bets on himself and when he bets everything). I'd also count money as both a quasi-literal and a metaphorical symbol for gold, since in this capitalistic society it seems to be the end goal of all. Then there's the sun tattoo, the first design Ink5oul lifted from Oscar Jarrett. Not just any sun, mind you, but a sun with a dot in the middle. Combining two common alchemical symbols for Sol. And naturally the victim burned to death. On the other hand, Dr Tree from ep. 3 (P 1) lamented not seeing the sun until the transformation was complete (because the whole episode was a metaphor for the Great Work, but I digress).

Then there's the less literal aspect of light or lumination. Basically wanting to be seen, putting yourself in the public eye, putting up a performance. Bonzo's destructive act was always broadcast publicly, and now he makes a big fanfare out of his appearances (he's even got his own theme music to accompany him). Similarly, Needles calls the police himself and makes a show out of the whole ordeal. Ink5oul wants attention, any attention, basically digging up secrets and exposing them to the world (until they grow tired of it I guess). So there's an aspect of controlling people's attention.

And then there's the Power of it all, which would manifest as described above, so a conscious drive or passion, fighting to gain control, pure or mindless violence, ego inflation, or the sadistic urge to see someone's fear or suffering. Basically all kinds of metaphors for fire (I'm still watching you, Starkwall).

In conclusion

To summarise my current model for the DPHW:

P/S = Power/Stärke = Sol: An active ego-driven force that exposes secrets and makes people go mad with power. (Kind of like a monkey's paw where you're actively making the wish.)

H/H = Hunger = Luna: A receptive force, perhaps representing the personal unconscious, that manifests your inner/secret/unconscious thoughts into reality. (Like a monkey's paw where you don't even know you're making a wish.)

W/U = Weird/Unheimlich = Mercury: A liminal, omnipresent and intangible force that reacts to collective thoughts and dissolves boundaries between realities (including between material/immaterial). Represents the collective unconscious. (Like an AI that reflects its training data but in the most unsettling ways.)

I'm still missing D/T, or Salt. I can't seem to find a thematically satisfying connection between the high D cases. I've somewhat moved on from the "order/stagnation" interpretation and towards the concept of Death, as Salt is often associated with the corporeal matter that remains after the life and soul have left (ie. putrefaction or nigredo). Will update you with any future hypotheses.

[slemhosta]

Exist Rosch from others au?? Like a "evily version" or something like that??

YES I'm so glad you asked!

LONG POST AHEAD!!! The closest I have to an "evil" version is Reverse!Rosch:

Reverse!Rosch is a businessman to the core. He is a very charismatic man with a rotten center. He scams, cheats and lies his way to fame and money. Loves being the center of attention and buying expensive showy stuff.

He is very much with the times and updates his wardrobe constantly. Always has the latest stuff. Very into AI and crypto. Zero anxiety, not a good man. Probably allosexual and honestly doesn't treat women that well.

Then we have Swap!Rosch:

Swap!Rosch is what happens when Rosch goes through Candido's backstory. Born in 1979-ish and works as a chemist in the agricultural field. He had an accident with acid in his lab, but being much more careful than Candido is he only burnt his arms and half his face.

Rosch met Poppy in a support group for people with severe burns. Poppy had poured boiling water on her leg. Dhalia was a nurse at the hospital and Edgar a med student. Felicity is his ex that he dated for about 8 years in his mid 30's. Way back in school he had a crush on his classmate Ingeborg, but never had the guts to talk to her.

Swap!Rosch is an incredibly anxious and timid man and a huge people-pleaser. Much of his personality is like how original Rosch was in his first life, only dialed up a little. He lives alone with his elderly cat Benny.

One day Benny goes missing. And a certain half-lobster, 120 year old Candido brings him back. Rosch is so grateful that he even dares invite Candido in for dinner, despite his severe anxiety. Candido sort of never leaves after that and eventually moves in!

Next up is Fem!Rosch:

Much of her story is the same, except the start. Fem!Rosch didn't dare to publish her scientific findings in the 1800's and convinced her husband Ingemar to do it in her stead. He agreed but was upset about the gender inequality and was very involved in the suffrage movement.

When her husband passed life became very difficult. No one believed she was immortal and chalked it up to hysteria. She was admitted to a home for mentally insane women and stayed there for several years. She never got the credit for her discoveries, but her husband's name pops up now and again. She finds it comforting. An honor to his memory. Even though Ingemar's own achievements were sadly forgotten by the world.

Last two are from worlds created by @the-c0nquerer-w0rm <3

Lights, camera action! It's Tumultus!Rosch:

Tumultus!Rosch is a "Bond actor" in his dimension. His name is Colt Knightly and he stars in the Cold Action movie franchise. He is known as a kind if somewhat shy man with tons of charisma. The public loves him. Clean record, no controversies to speak of.

His biggest fan Candido owns all the merch and is obsessed with him. One night, when Colt leaves a stressful gala to catch his breath in an alley, Candido finally gets to meet his hero. But he comes on too strong. Colt is spooked and backs away. Into the street. And he is hit and killed by a car. Candido panics and brings him back to his lab. To bring him back to life. His big project that he has been working on for years. And now with the perfect candidate... It works, and Candido becomes his personal doctor as he lies about what happened.

Colt gets worse and worse. He rots. He loses himself. It all goes downhill when he is interviewed on a talk show and throws up the preservation fluid he is pumped full with on live television. His eyes are glazed over, he is leaking, confused, and then Colt collapses.

The host wants the juicy footage and keeps rolling. Candido rushes out of backstage and pulls Colt out of there. But the blow to his character is irreparable. His career plummets and so does his health.

Last and least, X79!Rosch:

X79!Rosch lives in a complete wasteland filled with violence. He was born and raised in a scuttle bug tank that burrows underground. His parents piloted it and it was built by his grandparents. He has been alone since his folks died and very rarely goes to the surface.

He is an incredibly paranoid man. A shut-in hermit with a short fuse.

Being one of small stature he has to rely on staying out of sight and preparing for every possible situation. Rosch always carries a bomb strapped to his chest and has rigged it and the scuttle bug to explode when he dies. No one will get his things. Ever.

And if things get hairy, he is not afraid to detonate the bombs early.

And that's that!!

Thank you for reading!! <3

[they-breasted-boobily]

Ways the plot of tua s4 could have been improved while including a lot of the same storyline:

It goes without saying that a 6 episode season was too rushed for even the shitty plot we got given, but I'll mention that these ideas would have worked better for an 8-10 episode season. Or maybe you could use them for fics or comics- I'd love to see them!

1. The careers and new lives of non-powered umbrellas: While Lila, Klaus, and Viktor had decent set-ups, the others seemed out of place. Diego's personality and desire to be a hero would have been better suited to a mall cop or traffic cop, where he feels undervalued and underutilised, rather than just beaten down as a delivery driver for jokes about peeing in a bottle. Luther only mentioned Sloane a couple of times in the entire series- with more than 6 episodes, it could have been possible to give flashbacks of him trying to get back to her, but her not recognising him and not being romantically interested. Not sure what changes could be made to his job or housing though. Allison's setup was mostly fine, but we really should have been given an explanation for why Raymond left- maybe lean into the horror of being taken from your time and timeline raising a daughter you suddenly have? Five would not work for the CIA except as a double-agent, either that or he would be retired as a fishing supplies store owner. Ben is his own whole point later in this post.

2. The marigold sake shots: I feel like this plot point added to Ben just being an asshole and scapegoat for the entire season, which could benefit from major changes. If left relatively unchanged, the fact that Klaus threw it over his shoulder could have led to greater implications if it landed on an unknown person behind them and gave them powers. This person could have been the subject of an episode or two as they were tracked down when it was necessary.

3. Ben's character: While s3 Sparrow Ben was a dick, he was not as edgy, conceited, or self-absorbed as he was in s4. I think it's fine to start his arc with him leaving prison, but making the crime as major as crypto fraud (just because you think it's funny) makes it much more difficult for him to seem likeable and relateable to Jessica or anyone else. If the crime was something more minor, or he was framed/unfairly jailed it could set up a revenge/redemption arc from the get-go. With his relationship with Jessica, it would have benefited from being more of a slow burn, or if the gradual unnatural obsession had more than 6 episodes to build up.

4. The subway romance: While I can almost understand why it was Five and Lila due to their history working together and especially using time travel together, I think if Five needed a romance (which I don't but show writers can't stand having one member of the main cast never being in a relationship), it should have been someone he met while on that 7 year subway adventure (probably an older woman) and settled with in Strawberry Tradwife timeline while Lila keeps looking for a way out for the sake of her children. Lila would find the journal a few months later and using both it and the subway map, get back to Five because she still needs his powers to get entirely out of the subway system. Could you imagine a scene with Lila trying to convince Five to leave the peaceful Strawberry Tradwife life he's always wanted after dealing with the trauma of being stuck in time twice?

5. Klaus's return to addiction: I think Klaus's arc could have definitely benefited from the season being longer. If there was a slower burn towards his addiction returning and his confrontation with Claire and if she stressed more that he didn't need to go down this path again, it could have really been impactful. The ghost sex trafficking thing was gross but if that was the only way to get him buried alive then so be it, because having him in a situation where he would have to directly face his trauma from the mausoleum and become stronger would be so good for the sendoff of his character. Maybe that could have been the point where he learned how to levitate?

6. Reginald and false memories: Why was the fact that he's literally not human and crafted this timeline so he could have as much power as possible (including a militia town) not explored at all? The plot should have revolved a lot more around at least verifying what he was saying about marigold and durango, if not about handing him a final defeat for this final season. Everything around him killing Ben led to huge plot holes (why wouldn't Klaus know the truth from Ben's ghost? Ben easily could have been spared and only Jessica shot. Why was Jessica being in a squid never explained?). While it's interesting to see the Umbrellas all give a brainwashed explanation for Ben's death, it couldn't be something as blatant as that, because Klaus would have to know even if everyone else was brainwashed. The brainwashing is an idea with promise, but it should have been something like Ben and Jessica being consumed by the giant squid together because Ben went against orders.

What other things could have been changed? I personally liked the CIA subplot, especially as it taught Diego to appreciate his family more. I also found Jean and Gene and the Cleanse conspiracy theorists to be fun new mini-villains.

[lemonavocado]

What do you think of Robert Walton? I love that silly sailor very dearly and in one of your post you said that he was a little like Percy Shelley and I'm really curious to know why that is :]

i can't believe i've never shared my waltonthoughts before!!! in short

to be honest for a pretty large majority of my frankenstein fandom time i've been fairly apathetic about walton? (sorry robin 😞) i felt really really bad because i couldn't quite pinpoint why; he's an intriguing character with some really interesting stuff going on, his narration is charming and incredibly complex but i just i don't know. he didn't arouse my curiosity and desire to analyze like the other characters did (i admit my frankenstein rereads i kinda. skip the letters at the beginning. i know i am so sorry). it might be that he's quite far removed from the themes in frankenstein that really intrigue me like mental illness, neurodivergency, and generational trauma so nothing abt him stuck out to me

but!!! i am no longer apathetic about him! i thought it would feel like a chore to go through his letters with a fine toothed comb but walton represents what i think is a really underrepresented dichotomy: he's very industrious and self-efficacious, kinda like one of those self made millionaire crypto bros, with a privileged station and promising, comfortable future, but he has this wanderlust for life and beauty and romance that he cant really reconcile with his and it causes him a lot of distress and loneliness. when he meets victor he thinks he finds someone that can satisfy this longing for the romantic and sublime, someone attractive, intelligent, engaging, and ostensibly an avatar of the tragic romantic figure - walton thinks that this is the only proxy by which he can be understood and further understand himself, the only adequate vessel for this longing, which is probably why he attaches onto victor so obsessively. victor is tragic, beautiful, pitiful, complex, fallen from grace, and because of his idealism and thirst for a romantic story walton thinks he can save them both. especially because they knew each other for a relatively short period of time, i don't know to what extent walton loves victor or just loves the narrative of loving victor. in the idiot by dostoevsky prince myshkin says of natasya filippovna "i love her not with love, but with pity" and i think that might be what's going on with walton and victor. i need to spend more time thinking about that though

on the subject of him being like percy the major similarity i noticed is that walton, being an orphan, was raised by his older sister, and ive seen some people attribute his emotional and "effeminate" nature to his being raised under her "gentle and feminine fosterage"; similarly, percy shelley was very close to his mother and sisters in his youth, and ive seen a couple scholars attribute his sentimentality of character and feminist-adjacent ideas (like free love) to his being close to female figures in his childhood and young adulthood. probably a stretch but i just think it's kinda interesting. the two also share some other similarities like being poets in profession (or at least trying to be 😭) and veneration for nature

i think i had more to say but my brain power is depleted 😭 im so so so sorry it took me so long to get around to this ask!!! i had to do a little rereading and critical thinking which is yucky

[toa-archive]

To give you an idea what happened yesterday:

Went hunting for the now lost Ivan Gozali artwork on the off chance it appeared on discord as It's a bad habit you'd be surprised how much has been saved that way.

Passed the infamous Danish video and figured why not and clicked it

Danish video no longer had the private error, it was again live. That's about when the cackling happened and it was downloaded for preservation.

Found part of the Ivan Gozali Bellroc images which at this point will take it.

Checked his site hasn't done any other weirdness as not had chance to save off the three Trollhunters sequences yet. It hadn't so got more time.

Found a couple twitter videos that had been missed and got those suckers downloaded.

While finding the original post about the Danish video, found the David Woo Krel dancing post and added the clip now have the thing. Alas learning about Cobalt's existence for yoinking these things was recent.

Partially cleaned up the Downloads folder as it was getting horrendous.

Oh hey there's Stephen Franck's link it's been a wh- WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE URL NO LONGER WORKS

His website had been revamped in December. The Wizards sequences are now split over two pages and have the parts he couldn't upload due to the video size limit restored which are brand new.

"Hey I wonder if Scott Cooper's Trollhunters link is working on his new site yet?"

Yes

Spent an annoying amount of saving them off JUST IN CASE THEY VANISH AGAIN as couldn't just right click save like his old blogspot site.

Checked Mario Pata's site on the off chance the Trollhunters section is no longer locked, alas.

Had a mini shufty around including ending up on a non-english fanpage. Didn't have any concept art though did have some Silvermender artwork that can check after much of her work was lost after the crypto-bro hack and a Stricklake animatic never seen before so that was nice.

Made the poll as plans for next Tuesday got scuppered before they could start.

Rest of evening foiled by getting chilled.

[isitcorrect]

Claim: Did Mahmoud Khalil hire an "American-looking" woman to pose as his wife?

Veridct: False conspiracy theory bullshit. Obviously.

Weird racists, of both the Netanyahu & Trump supporter variety, are trying to discredit the outrage around Khalil by claiming that he hired a "fake wife" who looked "more American" to appear at a press conference.

Obviously, this isn't true. Notably, every post about this uses exclusively images - even though the original tweet is a video. And if we watch the video...

...it's his lawyer. Of course it is. The entire framing is nonsense that only works if you're also a weird racist creep, bc what does "Western-looking" even mean?

Now, whoever first shared this knew that - they had to, in order to get the right screencap to lie about its contents. They seized on an admittedly poorly written tweet that included a quote from his wife over a video of his lawyer without making it clear it was the lawyer saying it, making it easy for them to spin a story to gullible conspiracy types about how it's a different woman (I looked up the original post's author, and he is a crypto & Epstein list guy, since that is the only type of guy left on Twitter no matter what else they support). His tweet was copied by "Open Source Intelligence" accounts (if you're only familiar with OSINT from outlets like Bellingcat, it's been a trend that social media platforms, from Twitter to Bluesky, are being flooded by "OSINT" accounts that...just share news videos they see) and spread further, and now it's the crux of the argument of some weird crisis actor conspiracy theory

But it takes about thirty seconds to look up this video & see the immediate caption explaining that she's a lawyer...you know, if you want to do anything but believe it unthinkingly, and hold up that it's Very Suspicious when multiple women stand adjacent to a man at different times, or when women refer to him in a press conference