#letting me triumph over all these difficult challenges

[esters-notepad]

🙃

[kingtomura]

Arcade

Summary: There's nothing worse than getting ditched by your so-called friends on a Friday night. Well, maybe the asshole complaining about your skills at the arcade has that beat. Tomura Shigaraki knows how to make one hell of a first impression. word count: 8.5k Part three to Good Girl and Bloodline Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, quirkless AU, fluff, angst, virginity loss, virginity kink, corruption kink, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral (f! receiving), praise, strict parents, toxic parents, smut with plot, protected sex, piv, overstim, tomura talks you through it, if you know what i mean, reader is kinda bad at games sry, mdni crossposted to ao3 | Part 4 is here!

You meet him on a Friday.

The mall is crowded and filled to the brim with groups of friends, chattering, laughing – wondering what to get into for the night. You’re just trying to find your group. They said that they would meet you here almost an hour ago, but no one has shown up. 

Bitterly you kick the small rock in front of you, officially accepting the fact that you had been ditched and decide it’s too early to go home. It’s a Friday night for pete’s sake. You walk aimlessly through the mall, only pausing when the noises of video game lasers and hyper dance music flood your ears. 

The arcade. Of course you could kill some time there, people go there alone all the time. No one would think you were out of place and effectively ditched. 

You make your choice, beelining for the upgraded rendition of Pac Man and slipping in a coin to start it. 

The excitement was short lived as you remembered that the game isn’t as easy as you remembered. Whatever, you take your leave and try for a game you hadn’t played before. Something simple with muted colors. It’s fun, but a little difficult. You find yourself getting lost in it, the sounds drowning out the bustling of the arcade.

You huff as you lose another round and reach down, ready to drop a coin and start up again when you hear an annoyed groan coming from behind.

“Can I help you?” You ask, giving the guy a once over. He wore all black with ashen hair and ruby red eyes that shone with annoyance.

“Yeah, you could find another game to suck at.” He scoffs, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Irritating. 

You take the challenge. “Oh yeah? Well let's see you try it then, since it’s so easy.”

He shrugs, brushing by you and inserting his own coin into the machine, the beeps of the game starting up and filling tension between you. 

This guy… was good at the game — as much as you hated to admit it. He blew through the enemies with little to no trouble and easily passed your place in the game. Ending it all with one final blow to the boss and snagging the new high score right before your eyes. 

To say you were embarrassed was a little less than an understatement, but you wouldn’t let him know that. So, you double down, brows furrowed and standing proud. 

The mystery man turns back to you, carmine eyes gleaming in triumph over his easy win. “See? You suck.”

You bristle at his blunt insult and bite back. “Yeah, well I only tried this game today! You think you're so good, why don’t you try to beat me at a game I'm good at.”

He looks you over, eyes dragging from your head to the converse on your feet, before turning back around towards the game and dropping another coin into it. 

“No thanks.” 

This asshole… you don’t know why you're fighting this battle, you don't even know this man! But it would be a lie if you didn’t think it was entertaining —- in an annoying way, of course. 

But you take your loss and give up, moving on to the next game. It is something silly and bright, but also difficult. It's easy to get lost in and you find yourself aggressively tapping the buttons, inevitably losing the game and huffing off to find the next one. 

You choose a first person shooter this time. Originally a two player game, but you play on your own — taking down zombie after zombie as you try (and fail) to progress to the next stage. 

You groan as the game over screen mocks you for what feels like the thousandth time that night and fight to keep from banging your head against the screen in frustration. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” a low voice speaks from behind you and you can already feel your anger flaring. “It’s all in the aim.”

“Yeah, well, what do you know?” You ask bitterly, watching as the same asshole from before puts a coin in and starts the game up again. 

He makes it look so easy, getting headshot after headshot as he easily advances to the next rounds. There was a moment you swore he would lose as a mob of zombies crowded him, but he hit a flammable container in the background, causing an explosion and killing all of the zombies. 

The winning screen lit up his pale cheeks in a red hue, giving him a faux flush of color making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. 

You can’t bite back your sigh of defeat this time, the losing streak getting to you. “Did you come over here just to show off? I can do without that, thank you.”

He only shakes his head, putting in another coin and starting the game up again. You stare blankly as he hits the two player button and hands you a gun. 

“No, let me show you why you’re not winning.” It's spoken like you asked him for advice and you know damn well you didn’t, but you take the gun anyway because you had no reason not to.

Muttering a taut fine and gearing yourself up for more humiliation, you stand tall and hold the plastic gun up to the screen, ready to shoot incoming enemies.

You jolt when you feel the guy come up behind you, placing his hands over yours and moving them so that you have a better grip on the weapon. 

It was so quick and so natural your cheeks began heating for a reason completely different from your earlier embarrassment. 

He was so warm, his hands were warm and calloused and you could feel the heat of his body radiating onto your back as he invaded your personal space to show you how to hold the plastic gun. 

Your heart hammered against your chest but you forced yourself to keep your eyes forward and face neutral. 

It was much easier said than done, you realize as he leans in, his soft hair tickling your ear as he spoke, guiding you through the mini tutorial of how to shoot the zombies. 

Everything he said went in one ear and out the other as you could only focus on the low vibrato of his voice, explaining as his fingers ghosted over yours, casually helping you shoot. 

The smell of fresh linen and what you could assume was citrus shampoo flooding your nose, making you dizzy as you struggled to listen. You wanted nothing more than to lean back into this stranger, fully feel the warmth of his chest against your back and run your fingers through his soft locks. But you didn’t. 

You will yourself to focus on the sounds of the game and his technique, knowing that you will probably be playing the game soon and didn’t want to look silly if your skill remained the same.

Unfortunately, he pulled away sooner rather than later, taking all of his extra warmth and citrus scent with him. 

“Do you get it now?” He asks, rasp in his voice having genuine curiosity and you nod, ready to try your luck at the game now.

It seems like his tutoring wasn’t in vain and you both pull out a win, scoring high enough to place your names on the screen. 

You can’t hide your excitement from your first win of the night, turning to your new companion as he looked over the other high scores on the board.

“So, what’s your name?” You ask, riding the high of the win and letting the confidence of it guide you. “Because I don't think it would be DustKing like your high score says.”

He gives a small laugh, something tiny and barely there – a mere blow of air through his nose — and looks at you. Those carmine eyes send heat rushing to your cheeks again and spreading to the tips of your ears. 

“Tomura.” Is all he gives and you nod, giving him your name and turning back to the arcade game again. 

“Wanna give it another try?” You offer, and he gives you a small smile back, dropping a coin into the machine and starting up another round. 

“Sure.”

And suddenly, being ditched on a Friday night by your so-called friends isn’t so bad.

—---------------------

The next time you meet Tomura, it is on a saturday afternoon.

The arcade is already bustling with people and the noise almost makes you turn on your heels and walk away. But you don't, instead white hair and dark clothes catch your eye and your feet move before your mind can catch up with the actions. 

“Hey!” You greet, a little too chipper and a little too close. 

Tomura looks down at you, eyes dropping to your shirt and then back up again. You weren't sure if he had been checking you out or trying to size you up. It makes you falter a bit as he goes back to his game, effectively ignoring you.

The behavior is odd, but you try not to let it bother you. The last time you met the both of you played the silly zombie game until the arcade closed — there was no way he didn’t remember who you were.

You feel a little out of place and the tiniest bit hurt as you take a step back, ready to find any other distraction in the arcade to erase this from your brain. 

“Um, okay, bye then—” You start, but you’re cut off by Tomura’s groan. He lost the game and it's difficult to hold back the laughter.

“God, you’re such a distraction. You made me lose!” He barks, riling you up.

Your brows furrow in frustration, you’ve barely said two words to the guy. “How did I make you lose? I just got here!”

“Yeah, and you're being all distracting, with your little shirt and your jeans. What do you want?” 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? The statement is lost on you as your anger takes the forefront. “Don’t blame me because you’re off your game today.”

“I will blame you, because it’s your fault.”

“Whatever, Tomura. Since you’re done losing at this game, why don't you try one you;ll need real skill to play?” you challenge and hope he takes the bait, the irritated narrowing of his eyes shows that he will and you bury your giddiness inside.

“Fine, I'll try it.”

Tomura loses. Bad. And you can't stop the tears from crowding your eyes as you laugh at his misfortune. 

“No, why did you rush out so fast?” You hear Tomura’s low growl of annoyance and continue, “This is not that kind of game! Slow and steady wins the race, you know.” 

Wiping the tear from your eye, you try again, dropping a coin and gearing up for the next round while Tomura sits beside you, seething. The game starts up again and it's bright and inviting. You strategically tap at the buttons, ensuring that your duck character can make it across the street safely. 

It's only when you hear the splash of the fallen duck next to yours that you break out into laughter once more, accidently tapping the button and sending your duck into the open road, ending the game for you both. 

“This game is rigged!” Tomura protests, frustration palpable and scowl deep on his face. 

You only shrug, knowing it's not an easy game, “Well, I'm sure you’d say that about any game you aren't good at.” 

“That's a lie.” He states. Blunt and firm. This guy… He’s so rude, but so cute. You want to bite him.

“It's not,” You keep your voice light as you tease, not wanting to push him too far. “You don’t have patience so of course you would lose.” 

“I could beat you at other games.”

This piques your interest, brows flying up. “Oh, yeah? Like what?” 

He shrugs, irritation all but dissipated. “Mario Kart. 200cc. It takes patience and it’s not rigged.” 

You take the bait, fingers twitching in anticipation, “Sure, but look where we are. There is no Mario Kart here.” 

The look tomura gives you makes you wonder if you’d asked if the sky were blue. “I have Mario Kart at my house. Stop by and I'll kick your ass at it.”

You are stubborn, and decide fine. If he wants to be cocky, then you could bring him down a notch. “Alright, let's go and we'll see.” 

He nods and you both take off, leaving the noise and excitement of the arcade behind.

Tomura was not lying when he said Mario Kart required patience. 

You were currently in his room, on his bed as you try and fail to correct your character's position on the race track. You were stuck against a wall and slowly turning the opposite way, meanwhile, the other karts whip past your character — mocking while you firmly sat in dead last. 

The small laugh Tomura gives is enough to send you into a rage. Standing up, you grip the controller with force, twisting and turning with it as if it would give you more control over your character. It did not. 

“Oh, come on!” You shout.

“You have to use your brakes at this speed.” Tomura supplies, his character crossing the finish line and cheering at its win. 

Your frustration is blinding because once again, those large, warm hands were covering yours, Tomura’s low voice filled with amusement as he guided your character to the finish line. 

Embarrassment wasn’t enough for what you were feeling. Not only did you talk shit and lose, but you needed help from him again. 

He pulls away and you fleetingly think it’s too soon, watching as Tomura grabs his own controller and flips through the options. “We could try a slower cc. 200cc is brutal to newer players.”

“You knew that and you still let me play it?” He clearly set you up, you bitterly realize as you sit next to him on the bed, watching the screen.

“Yeah, for all I know you could have been a prodigy. You weren't though, so it’s nothing I have to worry about.” 

“Hey!” You scold, smacking his arm and grabbing the controller. “Fine. Let's do 50cc and see how good you are.”

Tomura shrugs, plucking the item from your hand and getting more comfortable. “Sure, but don’t think slower races will mean you’re better.” 

The next race goes about the same as the first one, but at least this time your character sticks to the road and you’ve even placed higher this time. Eighth place! Take that. 

“Impressive,” Tomura drags, voice stripped of malice and insults. It was a small feat, but still better than twelfth place. 

It's hard to keep your excitement down, a stark contrast to Tomura’s reserved demeanor. You’ve only met him recently but he's already perfected the way to get your feathers ruffled and rile you up. 

“Yeah, well I'm going to buy the game and practice on my own. Just wait, you’ll be in last place soon.” You had the gaming console, but never this game. It wouldn’t be too steep of an investment. 

Tomura hums, pondering a moment before responding, “You could always just come over and practice. No need to waste the money when I have it.”

His words make you pause, slowly realizing where you are and who you're with. Some guy you met at the arcade — in his home, in his room, playing video games. How did that happen so fast? Your parents would kill you.

“I guess.” You look around, suddenly wanting to find anything else to focus on that isn’t the man beside you. Now that you think about it, you’ve never really been alone with another guy before. Especially not in his room. Sure, you had all kinds of male friends, but never any this close. It made you… nervous. And warm. 

Very warm. Something that spread from the pits of your abdomen and crawled its way back up into your cheeks. 

You hoped Tomura wouldn't notice your blush and searched your brain for any way to get out of this situation. 

But then he was speaking again and god, was his voice always this low?

“Do you want to go another round?”

“Huh?” You stammer, looking over and it was a mistake because you were forced to notice how close you two were sitting, on his bed of all places. You shake the thoughts from your head, “y-yeah, we should play another round.”

You reach for the controller and Tomura stops you, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

“Hey, what's your problem?” Blunt. Rude. Fucking cute. 

It's settled. You hate this man. 

His brows furrowed as he moved closer, examining your face as if he could peer into your mind with his eyes alone. It made you want to shrink away, but that would only make his observation worse.

“Are you... getting nervous?” Your eyes widen at the words and you pull away completely, shaking your head, 

“No! Of course not.” You cross your arms in a huff and absently wonder if you could take your leave now. 

“You are,” he decides, a slow grin creeping across his face, “Why?” 

You're sure the ground will open up and swallow you whole if you just wish hard enough for it. Maybe then Tomura would back up out of your personal space and shut up.

“I'm not nervous.” You bluff, praying he won’t see through you. 

“I know why.” 

You brace yourself for mortification. 

“It’s because you know you’re going to lose.” 

He has that smug smile on his face and it hits you. 

He has no idea. Tomura doesn’t get it — he thinks you’re upset about the game and not the fact that you can smell the citrus of his shampoo and see the flecks of black in his red eyes. 

God, maybe he’s an idiot. 

You want to kiss him. 

“Don’t be nervous,” he assures, giving you a little smile and grabbing the controller again, “I’ll walk you through it.”

There was something about Tomura’s choice of words that made you think maybe, just maybe, he had a little more of an idea about your mood than he let on. You press your thighs together, praying it was subtle, and mentally push away the arousal you began to feel at his low tone of voice. 

“Sure.”

The next round you both play goes the same as the others. Tomura winning and you barely breaking the top ten. Your frustration was becoming palpable as it no longer was fun to see your character cry at the end of the match. 

“We don't have to play anymore.” You look over at Tomura’s words and he’s stretching, eyes closing at the movement. You can't help but notice the sliver of his exposed abdomen as he reaches up. 

You get a glimpse of his lithe figure and feel your mind begin to wonder what the rest looks like, but cut your thoughts short as he adjusts and meets your eyes again.  

You should get out of here before you embarrass yourself.

“Where are you going?” Tomura questioned, the minute you stood to leave.

“Um, home? It’s getting late.”

“Not that late. C’mon, it’s a Saturday. You have somewhere to be or something?” He’s getting up and you can only assume it's to get another game. You are correct because he turns to show you the case and it’s of a white goose. “This game is more fun.”

You look at the time on your phone and shrug. He's right, it's not that late — there should be no harm in staying a little longer.

So you do.

And it’s worth it as you both watch two geese in the game with excellent teamwork terrorize a farmer.

“Okay, you distract him and I’ll take his hat.” You were on a mission and Tomura indulged you, making his goose honk while yours swooped in, effectively stealing the hat and allowing you both to progress to the next level.

“Hah! I knew that would work.” You feel elated as you watch the geese move on, waddling across the screen and into the next area, “And you’re not so bad yourself, for a goose.” 

Tomura huffs a laugh, shallow and light before turning to you, “I carried you that round, but okay.”

You haven't known each other long, but he already knows his way around getting you riled up. 

The comment makes you turn so that you are better positioned on his bed, one leg still hanging off the end of it while trying not to puff your cheeks. You would be fighting a losing battle if he saw how riled up you were.

“Hey, I’m the one who told you where the picnic blanket was!”

“Okay? And who brought everything to the blanket?” he leaned forward, invading your space and challenging.

You didn’t back down, both of you so close, almost nose to nose. “You. but only after I found everything.”

The distance between the two of you was slim, and the air was heated, his crimson eyes looked down at you with that smug smirk on his lips and you wanted to bite him.

Or kiss him.

Whichever came first. 

Tomura followed your line of sight and it only made his smug expression worse, if that were even possible — yet neither of you backed away. His lips parted like he was on the edge of saying something, but was cut off by the peppy chime of your phone’s ringtone. 

That seemed to dissipate some of the tension between you two as it caused you to back away and scramble to find your phone on his bed. 

Once you’ve gotten it and answered, there’s the familiar voice of your mother on the other end, worrying about where you are and questioning when you would be home, standard practice for her. After many reassuring yeses and “i’ll be there soon”’s you are finally free of the call, now knowing that you have to wrap this up and head out. 

“Who was that?” Tomura questioned and his voice seems loud in the quiet of the room. 

You turn back to him and his eyes are waiting, expecting. He’s not doing anything but looking at you and it still feels like he can see all of you, as if you’re naked and bare, exposed completely. 

“My mom.” You can’t help the small shrug of your shoulders, feeling a little embarrassed at how uncool it could look to have your parents keep tabs on you all the time.

“Aww,” Tomura coos, and it's said more like an afterthought, something to fill the air as he leaned forward — finally, finally closing the distance between you both and kissing your lips. 

It shocks you as you feel the soft cotton his duvet hit your back, Tomura’s lips still pressed to yours as he pushed you down. They were rough but so warm, just like the rest of him, and your hand seeks his hair, finally indulging in the urge you’ve had to touch it since you’ve met him. 

He groans when you give it a tug and you whimper when he bites your lip a little too hard. It drives you crazy and Tomura wastes no time in deepening the kiss, his tongue swiping over yours as his hands slide up your shirt. You let out a gasp  when he cups your breast, taking a sensitive nub between his forefinger and thumb. The feeling has you mewling into his mouth and arousal soaking your panties. 

It doesn’t take much to get you riled up, especially since the furthest you’ve ever gone with a guy is a kiss here and there. 

Tomura crowds your senses as he hovers over you, caging you below him as he sits between your spread legs. Your heart races as you keep your eyes squeezed shut, you don’t know how far you’re going to go, but you definitely did not think you would be losing your virginity today. 

He pulls away, lifting his shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere on the floor of the room. You waste no time taking in the new sight of his exposed chest, desperate to reach your hands out to touch. 

But Tomura was back down again before you had a chance to, his mouth making its way down your jaw and neck leaving kisses and licks in its wake. It’s sensitive, especially when Tomura sucks right on a particular spot on your neck, making you cry out. 

“D-don’t leave a mark.” You stutter, words nearly lost to the pleasure. 

“Why not?” The warmth of his tongue licking the area he’d just sucked on was making you shiver. 

Your hands were gripping his shoulder, desperate for any kind of grounding. “Because my parents. They would k-kill me.”

Tomura hums, seeming to take your concern into consideration before pulling away. You’re worried you’ve blown it and ruined the mood, but he just tugs at your shirt. 

“Get this off.” 

You can feel the heat on your face, from the kissing, but now you feel it burn more as you gaze at the man above you. The words make you stall, process what's going on — what you should do. 

No one’s seen you without a shirt, especially not in this situation, but honestly? Who cares. You’re an adult, you can and will make your own choices. 

There’s no one else in this room but you and Tomura, so when you sit up to remove your shirt and bra, catching Tomura’s eyes scan your newly exposed body, you can’t help but smile at the chill of excitement that dances down your spine. 

It makes your heart flutter so you pull him back into a kiss and back down onto the bed, fisting your hands in his ashen locks again and savoring the groans he made. 

Tomura makes his way down again, taking your right breast into his mouth and tweaking the nipple of your other with his free hand. The sensations are overwhelming and you moan, arching your back and trying with all you had to pull Tomura closer. 

He obliged by lowering his hips and grinding down against you, the press of his erection against your clothed cunt drives you wild. Tomura comes back up, claiming your mouth again and he is demanding as he deepens the kiss, giving you everything you wanted and more. 

You wanted to take it further, needed to take it further, but you weren’t sure how to progress from making out. Telling Tomura you were a virgin would probably make things awkward and you were going to lose it if everything ended here.

Tomura pulls away to look at you, flushed and red while you ponder what to do with your hand placement. You decide to wrap them around Tomura’s neck, pulling him close enough that he rests his forehead on yours. 

Your breaths intertwine as you both stare at each other in a daze. 

“What?” He asks first, breathless and curious. 

You cut your eyes to the side, hoping your scoff came off as unconcerned instead of wildly nervous, “Nothing! Nothing..”

Your tone is not lost on Tomura as he narrows his eyes, gears turning in his head and piercing gaze seemingly looking through you and into your deepest thoughts. “Why are you being shy like a virgin?”

The way you purse your lips gives you away and you do everything to avoid his gaze, which is hard when you’re both so close to each other. 

“Oh my god, you are.” There’s a whimsy excitement in his voice and suddenly, embarrassment is creeping its way back into your mind, “why didn’t you say so?” 

You look up as Tomura pulls back, his smile open wide on his face, ill hidden elation buzzing in his words. 

There’s your innate need to defend yourself and your honor rising up again and you can’t stop yourself. So what if you’re a blushing virgin. “Yeah, so? Aren’t you?” 

His shoulders give a small shrug, “Maybe.” 

Then he’s down again, lips next to your ear as his hands trailed down your waist, leaning goosebumps in their wake. 

“Have you ever made yourself cum before?” He asks and you can feel his smile against your ear.

Embarrassment has officially taken the forefront of your mind as you weakly shake your head no, “I’ve tried, but when I get close the feeling goes away.” Might as well be honest since it can’t get more vulnerable than this.

Tomura hums, one hand reaching to take your hand in his, “I could show you how, if you want.”

You feel his hand drag yours lower, down your body and to the hem of your pants and stop, waiting for a response. It feels like your nerves are in overdrive and you writhe below him in anticipation, nodding your head, “P-please.”

Tomura pulls away, taking his warmth with him as he reaches down to unbutton your pants, removing them and leaving your panties. 

“You’re soaked.” He muses, causing you to whine in anticipation. “Show me how you do it.”

And you do, slipping your hand under your panties and biting back a moan as your middle finger rubbed circles on your clit. You were dripping wet so your fingers glide easily and the feeling makes your eyes close. 

It's a song and dance you are familiar with in the heated nights of your bedroom. Trying and failing to make yourself cum because you’ve read about it, it’s supposed to feel good, but you just can't get there. 

Tomura watches on, absently palming his erection and watching you touch yourself. As much as he wanted to reach down and help you out, there was something about seeing you whine and writhe in his bed that made his brain wild. 

You were getting close and you knew because there was that familiar sensation of heat pooling in your lower belly, it was a pressure that got more and more intense as you chased after it, but every time, your hands would get tired and you would lose it. And with the momentum gone, you lose the orgasm. 

Your furrowed brows went from aroused to frustrated within the span of a second as, once again you’ve unintentionally denied yourself release. 

“Fuck,” Tomura breaths, hand now fully in his sweat pants as his breathing picks up, “you were close.”

“I know!” You whine, unsure what to do now, but Tomura has a few things in mind. He pulls his hand from his pants, not wanting to ruin his own orgasm and hooks his fingers on both sides of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them to the side. 

You were fully exposed and the only thing keeping you from pressing your thighs together and holding your dignity close was Tomura between them. 

You wish he wouldn’t look so much, but he does, drinking up the sight of your exposed cunt and licking his lips. You’re about to call him out of it before he dips back down, capturing your lips in his and it distracts you. 

It distracts you so well that the press of his thumb over your slick nub makes you cry out, the pleasure sudden and better than you imagined. Tomura devours your moans, rubbing slow circles onto your clit and easily picking up where you left off. Your hands find purchase on his back and your toes curl at the sensation. 

He had just started, but it was just right and you couldn’t stop yourself from arching your back, desperate for more and overwhelmed by the stimulation. 

“T-tomu..” You moan as you feel the horizon of warmth again and bury your face into his neck.

“Yeah,” his lips are by your ear again and you close your eyes, fully focusing on the feeling of his thumb working your clit and his low voice in your ear, “Just let go for me.”

And it all hits you, pussy pulsing in pleasure as you come undone, your cries muffled by your face in his shoulder. It feels like the end of a long marathon as the bliss spreads through your body like a warm blanket. 

You could only lie there as Tomura pulled away, kissing your sternum and all the way down until he was at eye level with your cunt. The action confuses you because he had just made you cum so why was he..? 

“What are you doing?” You ask, confusion muting the buzz in your head. 

His eyes meet yours, mischievous glint in them sending the butterflies in your stomach wild. “We’re not done yet.” 

And before you could question the man further he dips down, warm and wet tongue meeting your slit and diving into your slick entrance. The action makes you jolt, keening at the sensation and thighs reflexively closing against Tomura’s head. This action only spurred him on further as he lapped and dipped his deceptively long tongue in and out of your wet entrance, sticky slick walls clamping down on him as he sloppily ate you out. 

He was relentless as he drove your pleasure up the wall — blowing your previous orgasm out of the water with this new sensation. 

“Fuck, tomu — fuck its..!” You can’t form a coherent sentence because the pleasure was only building and building, giving your brain no time to catch up with your words. Your hands immediately found purchase in his hair, the soft ashen locks grounding you as he continued his actions, unbothered by your tight grip. 

Tomura decided to move up, licking his way from your hole to your clit, the overstimulated bud was next on tomura’s list as he lapped and kissed your bundle of nerves. 

The actions make you cry out, mind muddled as your body tries to figure out if you want to be closer or further away from the sensations. You don't have much time to reach a conclusion either as Tomura sucks your clit and your second orgasm of the night quickly builds up and spills over, making your back arch from the bed and your legs shake in pleasure. 

It feels like your mind is completely blank as tomura gives your cunt a final lap and your clit one last kiss before returning to meet your eyes again. 

You were face to face now and watching him grin down at you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had made a deal with the devil himself as your mind swam in the pleasure radiating throughout your body. It all felt surreal, and your eyes naturally closed, enjoying the feeling of your second climax. 

“Aw, don’t tap out on me now, I haven’t even given you the final boss yet,” you hear Tomura coo, finally moving to remove his sweatpants and boxers and oh— 

You watch his cock bob between his legs and panic internally as you wonder how the hell that would fit inside of you. 

It’s like Tomura could read your mind, because his laugh brings you back to the present, “don't worry about it, promise it’ll fit.” 

You don't know if you should trust him on that, but you do — mentally preparing yourself as Tomura leans over you and into the drawer of his bedside nightstand. He pulls out a square foiled packet and it’s in that moment you realize – no, he was not a virgin and only humoring you. 

You don't have much time to dwell on it though because in no time he has the condom on and is lining himself up with your entrance. 

The nerves are making themselves known as the reality of your situation starts to set in. The thoughts don’t flood your mind for long because Tomura takes your chin in his hand, demanding your undivided attention as he slowly pressed into your cunt. 

The pressure of the stretch makes you whimper and your eyes reflexively close, but he was only getting started. It was the somewhat soothing feeling of Tomura’s thumb stroking your cheek that kept you grounded and able to withstand more of the stretch. 

Little by little, Tomura pushed on, guiding you with his words and reassuring you that it wouldn’t hurt for long. He was right up against your ear, the familiar smell of his shampoo bringing you comfort as your bodies intertwined. 

“That it,” he guided, voice low and hips still as he bottomed out. You felt so full. It was a sensation you’ve never imagined and could only whine as tomura started to pull back. “I’m gonna move now.” 

Even though the pain was there in the initial thrusts, there was also the feeling of dull pleasure, slowly growing and growing until the previous pain had all but gone away and now you were floating in ecstasy as Tomura’s thrusts began to speed up.

You gripped at his forearms as he gained momentum, hips rocking into yours and making you moan.

“You like that?” he husked, lips brushing your throat as his hips snapped forward and hit a particularly sensitive spot inside. 

“F-fuck, again, do that again,” you cry and Tomura focuses his attention right where you want him to. The feeling is euphoric as you feel a different kind of coil tightening in your lower abdomen. A feeling that makes your toes curl and your thighs tense and it's hit again and again. 

Tomura lets out a low groan, his own pace becoming unsteady as time went on. “You’re so tight..” he murmured, reveling in the feeling of your slick walls clamping down on him, “‘s like you’re sucking me in.” 

You’re nearing the end again, you can feel it, but you don't want to be. This all felt so good. “Tomu, I-I’m—”

Tomura cuts you off, pulling away to look you in the eyes, his ruby red gaze was hypnotizing. “Just let go, I’ve got you.” 

And you do, that’s all it takes for you to tip over — mind rushing in bliss as your heart fluttered at his words. 

You felt this orgasm deep in your bones, the overwhelming feeling of clarity and contentment settling within you as you were now along for the ride, enjoying Tomura’s increasing erratic pace while he chased his own orgasm. 

“Oh, fuck—” he pants, following behind you with his own climax. His eyes were squeezed shut as he rode it out, slowing to a stop and dropping his head onto your shoulder. 

The heavy breaths between you were the only sounds in the room as you stare at his ceiling — noticing the faded out green stars above. So faint you were sure they had been placed there years and years ago. It brings a warmth to your chest, something new among your many new feelings you’ve felt today. 

“Next weekend,” Tomura starts, still sounding a bit winded as he pulls out — and you wince at the soreness, the pain not really something you were prepared for — and lays next to you, “Next weekend we’ll rematch in Mario kart. I’ll help you get better.”

You smile, the buzzing excitement making you flush, “Okay, let’s do it.”

The next morning is one that leaves you with a forming pit in your belly. It is a Sunday morning, and Sundays are the day’s your family loves to enjoy a homemade breakfast and sit together at the table like a loving family. 

And they were loving! Loving and observant.

You felt as if your parents knew. Like they knew where you had been yesterday — somehow seeing through your foolproof lie of hanging out with an old school friend, but things were quiet. 

Everything on this Sunday morning had been proceeding as normal. Your parents were sitting across from you, none the wiser and laughing about a show they watched last night while you were out. 

It did not feel real. It felt like there was something you were missing, as if they were omnipotent and knew your every move. Knew that you were no longer their shining star child, that you had been up to things that were everything but innocent. 

You feel the same, physically. Maybe a little sore from how rough Tomura had gotten, but other than that, normal.

“Sweetheart,” your father’s voice calls you, cutting through your paranoia, “could you pass me the syrup, please.”

And you do, maybe with too much haste, but he does not comment on it. Instead he just pours the sugary liquid onto his pancakes and continues. “So your mother and I were thinking,”

Oh, god. They knew.

“We know you’re taking a semester off, but if you aren't happy with that college, we could look into other’s for you.”

Your shoulders relax. It’s just college talk, again. That was talk you could handle. 

“Um, yeah. That’s okay with me. I could always use more options.”

Your father smiles, “That’s our girl. Always so flexible with her options. We know it takes a lot of strength to take a break, but you did. We’re so proud of you.” 

The smile that graces your face is pitiful and filled with guilt that you prayed was not obvious. They really saw the best in you, no matter how suffocating they were. so it’s only right you follow the path that they lay out for you. 

“Our girl could never do any wrong,” your mother chimes in, chipper and full of admiration, “you’re just so smart.”

You only nod, now trying to tune them out as they go back and forth, discussing possible college they believed would be best for you. 

It really makes you wonder just how far that love and pride stretched when their angel of a daughter strays against what they expect of you.

—-------------------------

And not even six months later that same love and adoration is tested, put on the line and shown bare as your enraged parents look down at you. 

The same parents who doted on you about how much you made them smile. You who had made them so proud and apparently brought them so much joy. 

It’s suffocating as you sit right back on the very same couch where it all started, listening to a lecture from your mother about the woes and pains of having such a disobedient unruly child. 

Even though you’re an adult. 

Even though you can make your own decisions about your life. 

It’s maddening having to listen to your once so meek and complacent mother go on and on about how she would have never snuck around with some boy she’s only known for a few months. How she would never lie to her parents about her whereabouts and how it’s just unheard of that you would turn your location off. 

You shake your head, they wouldn’t understand. Your father wouldn’t even look at you. “Mom, please..” you start, wanting to offer anything to break up the nonstop lecture. 

“I just don’t understand!” Her voice is so high it’s nearly a yell, and your mother makes it a point to never yell. “He’s just a man! Why would you put yourself and your future at risk for some guy?”

“He’s not just some guy.” You mumble and curse yourself for trying, they would never see it your way. 

There is a buzz from the phone in your pocket and you habitually grab for it, pulling it from its place and you are not given a chance to check the notification before your mother snatches the device from your hand. 

“And no phone! This damn phone is the root of all your problems in the first place.”

Disbelief mars your features as the constant drilling catches up with you. “You can’t do that!”

She only folds her arms across her chest, head tilted in challenge, “I can’t? Watch me. You’re lucky we haven’t put you on the street yet with how irresponsible you’ve been.” 

It’s hard to understand what’s so irresponsible about taking birth control and practicing being safe. But you knew it was deeper than that. It was deeper than the boy and it was more than sex. 

They hated the lack of control they had over you and how it waned with every passing day.

“So, what, was this guy supposed to be the love of your life? Someone you would just run away with and expect to support you?”

Your mother’s voice grates on your ears and you just wish for this conversation to be over, you want this entire thing to be over and done with. “I don’t know. Maybe.” The defeat is evident in your voice and you shrug. “Can I go now?” 

They are beating a dead horse at this point and you’re over it. 

To your surprise, no one stops you as you rise, allowing you to take your leave before the tears clouding your vision could fall. 

The defeat you feel is deep and you can’t even muster the energy to slam your door shut, opting for a quieter close. The fragile click of your door was so soft and it felt as if you were made of glass. To slam the door would only make you shatter into a million pieces onto your bedroom floor. 

How foolish of you to think there could ever be a world where you had autonomy in a house filled with hawks. 

Your bed greets you with its cozy warmth and you allow yourself to fall apart there, letting out all of your despair and frustration into your pillow and leaving the pieces of your soul to be picked up in the morning. 

It’s been a week. 

A long, boring, drawn-out week. 

You are without your phone, without wifi and without your parents car — so you couldn’t go anywhere if you tried. 

It’s been a long week of nothing, not even from Tomura. You assume he can put two and two together and figure out something has gone wrong. The thought brings you a little peace, but not for long. 

You barely leave your room and barely say two words to your parents. The isolation is… lonely. 

Even if you went out to the living room to watch television, you run the risk of running into one of your parents — and you can really do without another lecture. The only thing on your mind this past week has been Tomura. What was he doing? Did he pick up on your silence? Last time he showed up at your house, but that’s not happening this time around. 

You sit up from your bed, realizing that sitting around rotting away would drive you mad, and look to your window. The sun was setting and dusting the rest of the world in pretty orange and pink hues. It would be nightfall soon, and you don't think you could spend another night in this room, alone. 

So, against all better judgment, you open your window, look back to listen for any suspicious footsteps — the lack thereof giving you the greenlight — and climb out of your window, stumbling on to the ground as you try to regain your footing from the drop.

You weren't sure where your feet were taking you, but you didn't care, the feeling of fresh air against your cheeks was all you really needed for a clear head.

Your feet lead you to the mall, the start of all your problems and the beginning of your independence. 

It felt strange, seeing all kinds of happy faces throughout the mall. Blissfully unaware of their freedoms and enjoying their night. The jarring feeling pushes your feet to the familiar route, flashing colors and blaring music of the arcade greeting you. 

It’s comforting, in a way. But you didn’t bring any money. You didn't bring anything but what you were wearing so you could only look around, watching friends and couples alike laugh together. 

There's an area near the back of the arcade with tall barstools and empty tables. You decide to take a seat there and sulk on your own. At least you were no longer trapped in your room, forced to watch your four walls while the days passed you by.

You were in a daze, tracing the brown lines on the wooden table with your eyes, until someone interrupted you by sitting right next to you. You turn to face the culprit, less than friendly words on your tongue and ready to let whoever have a piece of your mind. 

But you stop in your tracks as ruby red eyes look down at you. 

Tomura. 

He was here, next to you and your heart fluttered at the realization. 

“What’s your problem?” He joked, rasp in his voice comforting to your ears. 

You don’t stop yourself from pulling him into a hug, his black hoodie soft and familiar. “How did you know I was here?” You mumble into the fabric and miraculously Tomura understands you.

“I didn’t.” The admission causes you to pull back, looking up at him through your long lashes. “None of my calls or texts went through, and I tried to stop by but your dad was suspiciously outside.” He brings a hand to your head, brushing your hair back and giving you a small smile. “I still like coming here, so I did. Something to pass the time. Ironically, I saw you walk by. 

You hum, fighting the pout that wanted to make its way onto your face. “They took my phone. They took everything, even the birth control pills. I can’t keep living like this, Tomura.”

“I know.” He responds, soothing your nerves even with his presence. “I can get you another phone.”

The suggestion only makes you shake your head, it doesn’t tackle the real underlying issue. 

“It doesn’t matter. It’s only a matter of time before they find that too. We’ve seen that they aren’t above going through my things. It’s hell. I can’t do it anymore.”

This seems to make Tomura ponder, taking your words in and running them through his mind for a solution. His expression is fixed when he looks back at you. 

“Then don’t.”

“What?” 

“Don’t go back home.” He elaborates, “Come stay with me. My place is big enough, it shouldn’t matter.”

You are shaking your head before you realize, pulling away from him with a stern look. “No, no I can't do that. I can’t impose on you like that.”

Tomura gives you a halfhearted glare. “It’s not imposing if I'm offering. They’re assholes, and I'm usually home alone anyway. Well, besides Kurogiri.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, “C’mon, just go home tonight, pack a bag and then meet me here tomorrow. Can you do that?” 

There was no other option you would want more so you nod, giving a short okay as Tomura presses his lips to yours. 

It's set — by this time tomorrow you will be free.

[krkiiz]

sly swordsman . luke castellan x reader

luke decides to distract you by confessing in the middle of a duel

luke castellan x f!reader , reader is the daughter of apollo , luke being head over heels , confessions , fluff , slight teasing

note : sorry if there are lots of mistakes, i wrote this on my phone with nail extensions and it’s so hard to type pls help 😭😭 apologies for grammars n errors, i’ll edit them tmrw hehe (also this is my first time writing pjo n fight scenes so i hope it’s decent!)

let me know your thoughts ! likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated <3

“Let’s go Kayla! Beat his ass!” Shout one of your fellow half-siblings along with boos from the opposing side.

Clanking of swords can be heard from miles away. Today the children of Hermes and Apollo are scheduled to a joint swordsmanship practice. Where the two cabins will have to engage on a 1v1 duel against another.

Right now stands in the center of the battlefield is your half sister Kayla, along with one of Hermes’ son. Kayla is known to be a skilled archer just like any of Apollo’s children. But that doesn’t mean she can’t beat the swift son of Hermes.

The battle ends her sword pointed right at his throat as he gives a sign of defeat to his opponent. The children of Apollo cheers with glee as they congratulate their half sister.

The two retreat, their places soon replaced by none other than their head counselors. Luke and you approach the center of the battlefield as your fellow half-siblings watch in anticipation.

It is so secret that Luke is an outstanding swordsman. As his skills rivals Ares and Athena’s children themselves, you knew he was a challenging opponent.

Well that’s a good thing you love challenges.

“I admit my defeat on our archery battle last week. But now, let me show you how good I am with the blade, Yn.” He smirks as the two of you start circling one another.

“Must’ve hurt your ego, Castellan.” A chuckle left your lips like honey and Luke suppresses the butterflies swarming in his stomach.

“Let’s see how good you really are, Son of Hermes.”

The two of you got in your positions, fingers tightly gripping on the sword and the shield, waiting for a sign to charge.

The hornet blows and Luke wastes no time to charge forward. The point of his blade almost piercing the epidermis of your skin before you block him with your own sword.

Luke knows better than to underestimate you. Sure, you are the daughter of the god of Archery, not swordsmanship. But everyone knows that you are an outstanding dancer and you treat the battlefield like it is your stage.

Your movements swift and laced with elegance. It’s always extremely difficult to predict your next moves. Your footing carefully calculated as you deflect all of his upcoming attacks.

Luke is also quick to encounter your offense as he blocks the side your blade that was aiming at his neck.

With such close proximity, Luke can see how the sun compliments your e/c irises. Complimenting every contrast and detail of the pupil.

Gods were your eyes always this beautiful? Were you always this beautiful?

Luke feels himself caught in a trance just for a second before earning back his composure. But one second is enough for you trip his leg leading him to fall right on his back as he looses his grip on his sword.

The sides of your blade nearly makes contact with his neck as you lay above him giving him a look of triumph.

“Yn, have I told you how beautiful you look on top of me right now?” The boy starts causing you to roll your eyes and scoff at his antics.

“Yeah, try again because that’s not going to work on me, Luke.” You press the blade against his adam’s apple causing him to wince slightly.

The crowd wonders on what was happening and why hasn’t Luke gave a sign of defeat knowing well that being under your sword doesn’t give him a good chance at winning.

They fail to see how his right hand is slowly reaching discreetly trying to get ahold of his fallen blade.

Luke lets out a lighthearted chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours. “I like you, Yn. Let’s go on a date.”

Now this caught you off guard. “What?”

The sly swordsman took your state to his advantage as he unclasps his knee from your hold and flipped your positions, your sword disregard in the process.

With his blade firm in his right hand, now it’s his turn to reside his sword against your neck, just like you did to him a few seconds ago.

You try fighting back but he just tuts and starts applying more pressure to his blade before you finally give the sign of defeat.

The Hermes cabin roared with glee congratulating their win, knowing that their head counselor will never fail them.

Luke quickly stands his ground giving you a helping hand, in which you accepted with a smile. He pulls you up against him, the sudden movement made you loose your footing but he’s quick to steady you with his free hand placed on your waist.

“So, about that date.”

©️ sirena | krkiiz 2023

[longing-for-rain]

https://www.tumblr.com/atla-confessions/759438562978562048/zutara-and-azutara-both-agree-katara-would-have?source=share

Do a post on this please I don't have the energy

I see this sentiment a lot lately, and yes, it is frustrating. But I’m going to talk about it because it perfectly illustrates the way (kataang) fans take power away from Katara’s narrative and reduce her complexity as a result.

For those too tired to look at the OP (understandable) it’s an anon saying that both Zutara and Kazula would be problematic and harmful to Katara because the Fire Nation would never accept her, and that she and her family would always be in danger yada yada blah blah.

And honestly? I agree with that. It would be dangerous for Katara. But if you think that would stop Katara, you fundamentally don’t understand her character.

Do you really think Katara is some poor little damsel who needs to be protected at all costs and sent away to live a quiet life in the countryside? No; that’s never been Katara. Katara wants to fight and she has never backed down from a challenge. It’s who she is.

Katara is the girl who left her home to travel across a war-torn world to chase even a chance that she could play a part in ending the war. She’s constantly putting herself in dangerous situations because she follows her heart, she does what’s right even if it’s a risk to her safety. The Katara we know from ATLA is not some demure, unassuming girl who would be happy to sit back and become known for her healing above all else while her friends fought in her place. Katara would have hated to see her future as it was written. She is loud. She is proud. She is a fighter.

Katara not only accepts a challenge; she’s eager for it. She’s strong, she knows it, and she isn’t afraid to use her power for good.

I know someone is going to jump in the comments and accuse me of “shaming” Katara for her “choices” (nevermind the fact that she’s a fictional character so every choice she makes isn’t her own; it’s a narrative chosen for her by the male writers) but I’m not even saying that being a healer is inherently weak or bad. I’m saying it’s not Katara.

It’s a shame that so many people are willing to overlook the butchering of her story just because they’re so protective over canon and are completely unwilling to engage with it critically.

This sentiment reflects the issues many fans have with canon kataang, because it’s a very common misogynistic trope in media. A female character can be strong, but it’s only temporary. We can see her fight and triumph, but at the end she’s expected to give that up for marriage and motherhood after the war. Her identity is reduced to her relation to a man. She isn’t expected to retain her strength; she is expected to accept a quiet recognition while the world sings the man’s praises.

That was the fate of Katara in canon. And it is a disservice to her character. Katara would have wanted to continue to fight, because the fight wasn’t over. Anon’s recognition that Fire Nation nobility would have an issue with her holding power shows they understand that too. So why do you think Katara would be fine with sitting back and letting that happen? Why do you think she’d let that scare her away? Not my Katara.

Especially when love enters the picture. Let’s say Katara did canonically love Zuko, or Azula, or anyone outside of her nation for that matter. Yes, it would be more difficult for her. But do you really think Katara would back down for that reason?

In fact, do you realize how insulting it is to imply that she should to anyone in an interracial relationship? Or a same sex relationship? Yes, societal pressure and bigotry make them more difficult. But it doesn’t make them wrong. And the idea that it’s selfish or wrong because it’s endangering the family is insulting.

Especially in the case of Kazula. The Fire Nation is canonically homophobic. There would be danger and backlash for any same sex relationship, especially involving a member of the royal family like Azula. So…what then. Are gay people supposed to stop existing? Is Azula supposed to just never date or marry because it would be too dangerous?

Yeah, no. 0/10, trash take, do better.

(This part is mostly a joke but I also want to point it out)

The anon also implies that Katara’s canon relationship (with the Avatar) wouldn’t also carry the same risks. Which it would, probably even more so. Katara could be used as leverage against Aang by people trying to get to him. I mean, it already happened in canon.

And quite frankly, Aang was pretty useless at protecting Katara in that situation. Look at his face. Literal baby goo-goo-ga-ga shit. She’s lucky Fong wasn’t willing to actually kill her and that she was safely underground when Aang had his Spirit Tantrum because she would have been dead meat. So if your argument is that poor helpless little Katara would be sooooo much safer with Aang, I’m really not convinced.

If you’re going to decide who to ship Katara with based on who can protect her from danger the best, well…

I’m just saying 🤷🏻‍♀️🍵

[radioactivereads]

Pity (GLaDOS x Reader* Fluff)

summary: Reader is in pain and glados takes pity on them (*not super heavy on the lovey stuff, but she is implied to have a soft spot for you <3)

a/n: there is a shockingly low amount of glados x reader so. heres my gift ! this is actually just an old revamped thing i wrote like months ago so sorry if it isnt the best..

also the pain is leg pain because . i wrote this when my leg hurted . lol

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

You sighed, limping your way across the test, lugging a cube behind you. 

Every step was a challenge, each challenge succeeded was rewarded not with triumph, but with the same sickening pain over and over - flipping between a dull ache and a sharp stabbing pain, but not fully leaving.

“Congratulations. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t ever solve that one. Maybe I should make the next one easier.”

A pause.

“I’m kidding. In fact, I think you can handle the challenge of a more difficult test.”

You didn’t respond. Though you did enjoy the challenge the puzzles gave you, your focus was elsewhere. The sharp, stabbing pain almost drowned out her witty remarks. Almost.

You sat quietly in the elevator, debating just resting there for a while, but you knew she objected to not having an eye on you at all times. 

While she obviously preferred you do the tests and listen to her, through some subtle testing of your own you’d learned you could get away with not being entirely rule-abiding, so long as you stay within her sights.

Maybe she viewed your disobedience as part of the testing process, but regardless, it worked out for you.

You stumbled into the next test, realizing now she hadn’t been kidding. 

“I wasn’t kidding” , she echoed, and you wondered if she could read his mind or if your thoughts were just that predictable.

“You’ve solved the last ones a bit too easily, minus that last one. I figured you needed a more stimulating test. Good luck.”

You let out another heaving sigh.

You couldn’t begin to guess how much time had passed. Your head hurt too much for this. Your legs hurt. 

After what felt like hours of trying to solve it, you just gave up, sliding against a wall and sitting. You idly fidgeted with the hem of the tank top she had provided, wondering when she’d notice the test wasn’t getting solved.

Even with the braces, which definitely alleviated some of the tension on your legs, it was too much. Even sitting down was painful, but it was better than standing. 

“Alright. What are you doing in there? You’ve solved worse. I don’t know where this strange infatuation with this particular test could come from.”

“I’m sorry GLaDos… I want to solve it, but I- I can’t. Not right now. I’ll solve it soon I just… I need a minute. Please”

The nearby camera turned, focusing onto you. You were used to it, and knew she was trying to figure things out for herself without being told. You wonder if she viewed you as a test for her to solve. You imagined she wouldn’t want the solution to just be given to her.

“You look fine to me.” She concluded. “...However, this sentiment; a coming from you, one of the few who appreciates testing like I do… Is concerning.”

Maybe that was an underhanded way of asking for a hint.

“I’m… tired”

“You slept the appropriate amount of time.” She countered simply. You didn’t have a response

“...Are you getting ill, perhaps? …That would put an unfortunate damper on testing.”

“No, I’m not sick”

“Then why aren’t you completing the test?”

Deciding she wouldn’t solve this test on her own, you sigh. “I’m in pain… I’m sorry”

“Did you get injured during the last test?”

“No, it’s an old ache. It comes and goes. It’ll go away in a bit, I just have to wait it out.”

A long pause. You concluded she wasn’t sure how to deal with this.

“...I don’t think we’re going to complete any more testing today. Please return to your sleeping accommodation facility.”

Weird. She was usually very punctual, always wanting to start and stop testing at specific times, hating when her schedule was thrown off- except maybe slightly later if the result was particularly interesting to her- but never wanting to stop early.

“You’re getting soft” You lightly teased, but limp your way over the wall plates that had opened up, granting you access back into the facility.

 When you had first begun testing here, one of Glados’ robots, either the short blue one or the lanky orange one, was always at his side. You suspected it was to protect the facility from you, rather than protect you from the facility.

But as time had gone on, you and the two robots had gotten more comfortable in one another’s presence, and the two now followed you with no orders being given. 

They squawked softly, gesturing at your leg, but he waved them off. “ ‘m fine. I’ll feel better tomorrow”

You eventually made it back to your room, an old living facility that GLaDoS had cleaned up, just enough to where it was liveable. You removed your boots and changed into a more comfortable outfit, some older, softer clothes you’d managed to find.

Usually, he spent time in his room making art or attempting to decipher the many books left behind in the labs. But he was too tired. All he wanted was to lie down on his old mattress and cover himself in the pile of thin blankets he’d managed to scrounge up.

Adjusting yourself in your nest of old scratchy covers, with a few soft blankets you’d scrounged up, you yawned, curling up.

“Goodnight GLaDoS” You said aloud.

There was a long pause.

“Goodnight. We’ll make up lost time tomorrow.”

You shivered softly, curling up tighter. As you felt yourself drifting off to sleep and your eyelids began to close, you felt like the room had gotten comfortably warm, and you smiled softly.

For all her insistence that you were just a means of solving tests, she still made sure you were comfortable.

Despite the harsh and blank appearance of the labs, you couldn’t help but feel at ease. You were warm, and with GLaDoS watching you, you felt safe. This was where you were meant to be. This was home.

[elizabeth-katz]

I’ve always believed that life unfolds in the most unexpected ways, but looking back at my journey as a single mother, I can’t help but feel proud of everything I’ve overcome and how much love has filled the spaces I never thought would be whole again.When I first found out I was going to be a mother, it was both terrifying and exciting. The idea of raising a child on my own never really crossed my mind. But life had different plans. After the relationship I had been in ended unexpectedly, I was left with the responsibility of carrying and nurturing a life, all by myself.The early days were a blur of sleepless nights, diapers, and trying to keep up with the overwhelming love I felt for my little one. I didn’t have much experience with motherhood, but instinct kicked in. Every smile, every milestone, from the first time my baby rolled over to their first steps, felt like a triumph, not just for my child but for me too. Each moment reminded me that I could do this, even if I had doubts.The hardest part wasn’t just the daily challenges of being a single mother. It was the emotional weight that came with it. I sometimes felt like I was carrying the world on my shoulders. There were days when I wanted to scream or cry, but I knew I couldn’t afford to. My child needed me strong, and I would never let them feel the weight of my struggles.But I found strength in unexpected places. I built a support system, friends and family who stepped in when I was too tired, and mentors who gave me advice when I was lost. I learned to ask for help and, more importantly, to accept it. I learned that it was okay not to have it all together all the time. Perfection didn’t matter as much as love did.As my child grew, so did my sense of purpose. I wanted to show them that no matter how difficult life might get, there’s always a way to keep going. We celebrated the small victories: surviving a school project deadline, making it through a rough week of colds, and having family dinners where laughter filled the house. There was joy in the struggle, and together we created a world full of warmth.There were times when I questioned if I was doing it right—was I being enough? But the little things they did, the way they held my hand when I was sad, the way they looked up to me, gave me the answer I needed. I was enough. I was everything they needed, and that was more than enough for me too.Life as a single mother hasn’t always been easy, but it’s been the most rewarding adventure I’ve ever embarked on. Watching my child grow into an incredible human being, filled with kindness, intelligence, and strength, has been my greatest joy.In this journey, I’ve learned that love isn’t defined by the presence of others but by the strength we have within ourselves. I’ve learned that family doesn’t always look the way we expect, but it’s always about the connections we build and the bonds we create.My life as a single mother has been one of resilience, love, and the realization that sometimes, the hardest paths lead us to the most beautiful places. And today, looking at my child, I know that we’ve both grown stronger, together, against all odds.

[djnikkij]

In Another Life You Were Mine

Chapter 5: Whispers of Fate 

Julieta's Perspective:

Life took an unexpected turn since meeting Agustin. Our paths had crossed, and the connection between us had grown stronger with each passing day. But as much as I wanted to surrender to the blossoming romance, my responsibilities as a Madrigal weighed heavily on my heart.

Sitting by the window, my mind drifted to the memories we had created together—moments of laughter, stolen glances, and tender gestures. Agustín had shown me a world beyond my duties, a world where love and adventure intertwined. But could I truly have it all? Could I embrace the love that beckoned me without forsaking my commitment to my family and Encanto?

Agustín's Perspective:

She was a whirlwind of contradictions and complexities, igniting my soul. Julieta had become an integral part of my life, an irreplaceable presence that filled my empty spaces. But I couldn't ignore the doubt shadows clouded her eyes.

As I watched her lost in thought by the window, I approached her cautiously, hoping to alleviate her worries. "Julieta," I began, my voice tender. "You have a duty to your family, to Encanto. I understand your weight but know you don't have to face it alone. Together, we can navigate the challenges ahead."

Her eyes met mine, shimmering with hope and uncertainty. "Agustín," she whispered, her voice filled with longing." I want to believe in the possibility of love, of a life beyond duty. But the consequences... they scare me."

Pepa's Perspective:

Observing Julieta and Agustín's turmoil, I couldn't help but empathize with their predicament. Love is a delicate dance, requiring sacrifice and courage. I had experienced it firsthand with Félix, and I knew the hardships love could entail.

Approaching Julieta and Agustín, I spoke from my heart, offering them a glimmer of solace amidst their inner battles. "Love is not without its challenges but also a source of strength. In the face of uncertainty, you must trust in your love and bond. Let love guide you, for it can overcome the greatest obstacles."

Félix's Perspective:

As Pepa shared her wisdom, her words resonated with me. Love transformed my life profoundly, filling it with joy, purpose, and bravery. I knew Julieta and Agustín faced a difficult choice that would shape their destinies.

Drawing closer to them, I offered my support, my voice gentle yet unwavering. "Julieta, Agustín, listen to your hearts. Embrace the love that calls to you, for in doing so, you will discover the strength to face any challenge that comes your way. Trust in fate's whispers, and let love guide your path."

Julieta and Agustín exchanged glances, their hearts entwined in a delicate dance of hope and determination. At that moment, they made a silent vow—to follow their hearts, face the unknown, and embrace a love that transcended duty and defied their world.

Whispers of Fate echoed through the room, carrying the promise of love that would weather the storm and triumph over adversity. Little did they know their journey was far from over. Their chosen path would lead them to a destiny they could never imagine. But as their hands interlaced, their resolve hardened, and they stepped forward together, ready to confront the challenges that awaited them.

[drzenlin]

A Few Changes

Hello, everyone!

Ooo boy, that title is awful ominous, isn't it? Well, the good news is that things aren't changing to a point things here will be incredibly different.

One of the ideas I had for Tumblr, when I started my blog ages and ages ago was, well, truthfully, being a little gremlin online and make friends. (I haven't done a great job with that one either.) Later on, after establishing the reblog gremlin that I am today, I decided that I wanted to begin sharing my writing and other creations here. And, well, that didn't work either.

I've shared a small amount. A very small amount. And not gone much farther than that. That makes establishing myself online very difficult. I've been a lurker for a very long time and, truth be told, it's time that stopped.

On top of that, my sister has gone and challenged me over this and I'm hoping for a perfect disaster. (Parts of me do fear it will be a disaster. But, no returns and all that.)

So, things are going to change here. Not much, with my lack of posting recently but change they shall.

Instead of posting my writing here, on drzenlin, I have created a new blog. ahumiliatingordealofanotheridea. The idea is that my writing and other creative projects (hopefully mostly storytelling in some capacity but we'll see) will be going on that blog. Triumphs, failures, written shorts, longer stories, and the process I'm taking in writing both my novels, the stories I plan on sharing on youtube, as well as any other personal project I may come up with. (We'll probably get to all of that over there.)

Everything here will probably continue as normal. All of the random content I share wont be stopping but I don't enjoy my own creations disappearing in a sea of reblogs. This is the best way I've thought up to solve it. (And let's be honest, this is probably the best social media for a lot of this stuff. The archive alone makes it easy to find things and long format posting is a nightmare anywhere else.)

A pinned post will be put in place on both blogs directing back to the other. I have nothing to hide, really about what I reblog or view or enjoy content wise. A few other things will change. Likely the bio here and, well, that's just about it.

Writing, art, processes, music, sound design, links to everything. I have a lot of grand plans. I've been pretty bad about continuing to post about it all, or even continuing doing it, for a long time.

We'll, uh, we'll see how this goes.

[thedavesnews]

4D

If life is a board game shelf this is the chess year right? All the pieces are laid out and it's time to make some moves. So many years have just been a trading of pawns that the few pieces left have to lead to a checkmate right? H.G Wells says Chess is a curse on man so what do I know.

40 is a reflection year because it's a milestone that seems like it makes or breaks people. I'm not sure if I want this to be half or over halfway. Don't take this the wrong way but those final years just seem awful. I'm sure I will look at them and hope I keep getting one more day when 80 comes. When you're young 40 looks old. When you're 40 you wonder how you even got here. Hopefully the stupidity of youthful decisions are haunting. My only regret at this point in life is the fast food. That was a mistake. Every other decision I made led me to this moment and for that I couldn't be more thankful. I'm happy and I'm loved. That's a pretty amazing gift.

So do I write a retrospective, introspective or futurespective (I made up a word)? For the past couple of weeks I thought about what should go here. Maybe we talk about the plans that can fill the next 40 years. This will assume I do not win the lottery, obviously I will but for the sake of this discussion we leave that out.

First, we can start with the obvious. Sometime this summer I begin training for the Dopey. Dave is doing a marathon after turning 40. Got to start somewhere right? My feed is flooding me with 2 big topics since I signed up (thanks Facebook) are marathon registrations and Paris. If my training goes well and things stay in line I might sign up for a marathon in Europe (probably Paris). It's a major long shot but combining those things you love can really bring out the best in yourself.

Honestly, the biggest shock for me in 40 years is my love of France, specifically Paris. I would have never predicted that. I focused so much time and energy into Spanish and that culture, hell mi cumpleaños es CINCO DE MAYO. Learning French has been difficult and from what I've read others who speak English and Spanish have the same issues. Spanish speaks all the letters which isn't the case for a lot of French words. But the language is self is very pretty. The city of Paris is very enchanting. If I ever have the opportunity to live there I'm taking it. After 40 years, it's time to explore!

I've recently starting letting AI help me with some thought processes and, while I know it's just a parrot of words at this point, it's still impressive just how much use it can give all of us. Wonder how AI would have written this? Here's an excerpt....

----

Dave's Reflections: Embracing 40 and Beyond

So, here I am – on the brink of turning the big 4-0. It's a milestone that comes with its fair share of mixed emotions. As I countdown the days to this momentous occasion, I can't help but pause and reflect on the journey that has brought me here.

Turning 40 isn't just about adding another digit to my age; it's about taking stock of where I've been and where I'm headed. It's a time to look back on the highs and lows, the triumphs and challenges, and to celebrate the person I've become.

When I hit that milestone "purchase" button on life, I couldn't help but wonder – why have I done this to myself? But as I approach 40, I realize that every decision, every challenge, has led me to this point. It's a culmination of experiences that have shaped me, challenged me, and ultimately made me who I am today.

----

I was impressed with the amount of information that it was willing to write for me based off my last 3 posts. The generic versions without my writing style applied just about being 40 were honestly a bit depressing and sterile.

AI can be super helpful...just don't let it write your blog.

-Dave

You're never too old to be young.

[empirearchives]

Yes, I’ve noticed that there are a lot of Russian Napoleonic books that are not translated into any Western European language, but they really should be! I wish more were!!

Personally, I agree that he is a difficult person to characterize. He starts out young and idealistic, raised by his grandmother Catherine, one of the most famous and notable Enlightenment despots. She more or less picks him over her own son to be her heir. So when Tsar Paul is murdered, Alexander is 23 years old and he’s just inherited one of the most vast empires in the world.

He’s got all these goals that he wants to pursue, and implement polices based on liberal principles. And he’s barely even a real Christian at this point! But the image I’ve just described depicts a very different person than the ruler he’ll eventually become.

He’s the person who stood up to Napoleon when he didn’t have to, and kept on doing it, even when it wasn’t necessarily in Russia’s interest to do so. He was so invested in Europe, and frankly obsessed with it, that he forgot Russia. And the way he viewed the world perplexes me. It was like he saw foreign policy as some strange personal duel. He always acted like someone was challenging him even when no one was.

For me, he was so odd, and yet his actions were so consequential. In a world where he hadn’t been Tsar, well, we’d be in a different world. That’s why he fascinates me. I actually am amazed by what he achieved. I’m mildly in awe of it, though I don’t really approve. Was it all due to luck? Was it the result of some brilliant, long-term strategizing on his part? Was everything merely a result of his whims? I’m not sure.

But then, what did he actually achieve? He put his country through a decade of harrowing wars in Europe and eventually, it brought Russia to its knees. In the end, they triumphed, but what was it all for? The prize for that victory was a return to the status quo. What a let down to such an amazing feat. He put the ancien règime back into power in Europe. So much for the self-proclaimed liberalism and enlightenment of his youth.

I think he was one of the most consequential rulers in the past few hundred years. He was so singular in his determination. If we look at his career, I think he deserves accolades but he also deserves our blame. Today, he receives neither. He’s not really forgotten, but bizarrely overshadowed by some tsars who I don’t think were nearly as important. For me personally, I can’t help but like him, in spite of everything. Or at least, I think he’s very intriguing. Only someone like Alexander can die prematurely, and leave people genuinely wondering if they faked their death to run off and become a monk.

Sorry for my rambling. I’m quite tired and I’m about to go to sleep so this probably doesn’t sound coherent lol.

I honestly don’t understand why Tsar Alexander I is so overlooked among the tsars. Like yeah, Alexander II got blown up and Alexander III got a bridge in Paris named after him. But only the first Alexander made it all the way to Paris itself. I don’t get why the person who single-handedly reversed the destiny of Europe gets so skimmed over. I mean, even random English generals from the Napoleonic Wars are more acknowledged than him. It’s weird

[epiphyllous]

Visitation Rights (Malleus/Reader) [1/3]

Malleus invites you over to help him celebrate Christmas, a human holiday. Neither of you think about what it all means for you to visit him, in the grand scheme of things (ft. Diasomnia). word count: ~3.8k notes: malleus x reader, gender-neutral reader "you", pre-relationship, mutual pining, you celebrate Christmas, heavily Diasomnia dorm!! (i love them)

[Part 2]

You breathe out a cloud of mist as you step out from the Dark Mirror and into an open field. You’ve been visualizing this very scenery as best as you could, chanting Briar Valley over and over, just to make sure you didn’t end up in the wrong place and get stranded.

You’re glad you decided to layer up as best as you could, heeding Malleus’ lukewarm warning that it ‘might’ be cold. And considering how much hardier a fae could be, well… You’re just glad to be able to use your winter boots and mittens for once. Though, your hands are cold for more reasons other than the temperature. 

One doesn’t visit the fae prince in his homeland without being at least a little nervous. (And one that you may have budding feelings for is another matter entirely.)

Malleus seemed eager to have you over to decorate his home for the holidays, excited to celebrate a ‘human’ tradition like Christmas. (And by eager, you mean insistent; and by excited, you mean, only to you. You doubt any of your other friends would understand his volley of questions about Christmas was Malleus being ready to celebrate.) You didn’t have the heart to tell him that your family hasn’t celebrated in years either aside from a few gift exchanges and holiday foods, but you suppose it isn’t like you’ve forgotten how to decorate a tree or make a few paper snowflakes. 

It’s only when you walk down the snow-lain path and lay your eyes on a grand stone castle that you remember that you really have other things to worry about besides the topping of the Christmas tree. Like being in a castle, for one. 

(You find it easy to treat Malleus like any other person because school is an equalizer in status. You don't see the fae prince at Night Raven College; you just see Malleus: technologically challenged, secretly needy, adorably curious, and deeply devoted. It is why you find it so difficult to remember who he is outside of campus.)

“What are you standing there gaping like a fish for, human?” Sebek asks, walking up to you with Silver beside him. 

You keep your mouth open. “I forgot the castle was huge,” you say lamely. 

“I don’t think the young master wants to decorate the entire place,” Silver says, saving you from saying what you actually meant– you forgot Malleus lived in a castle. (The amount of times you feel blindsided by a fact that is readily known to everyone– Malleus is a prince– is astonishing.) “Perhaps the dining room and a hallway.”

“...Right,” you settle for saying, glancing over at him. “Oh! Sebek!” You grins at him. “You’re in uniform! Very guardsman of you. Reminds me of the nutcracker outfit.” 

Sebek huffs, and you mildly think he’s like a peacock, preening. “Of course. One cannot slack on his duties as a guardsman on holiday” he says, looking over at Silver with triumph. 

Silver only sighs. “The young master requested we put on… holiday clothing. He didn’t have any examples, so I decided to just dress for the weather.”

“You look good in the blue sweater,” You say easily. “If you wanted to make it a ‘holiday sweater’ you just have to make it uglier somehow.”

“...Uglier?”

“Why are we just standing here?” Sebek interjects, and you can only sheepishly smile at him. “The young master will be waiting for us to return! Let’s not waste another moment!”

And off you go into a wintry wonderland.

.

In a land of fae, humans are rarely seen. A few decades can be nothing more than a blip in the long lives that they lead, which is why when Silver walks through the gates of the Fairy castle, some guards still stare at him with undisguised curiosity. As both a human and as a man endowed with a unique set of eyes and hair, his presence as the fae prince’s guardman gives him no break in scrutiny even though almost twenty years have passed. 

Considering the attention that Silver gets until now, it is no wonder that you draw the eyes of everyone in the near vicinity, especially as you walk through the castle as the fae prince’s esteemed guest. Are you royalty? Do you have any fae blood in you? Are you a powerful mage? (Perhaps someday.) It is the absence of all these, to make you completely normal, that makes you all the more curious to see.

You walk in between Silver and Sebek and pretend to not know they are watching.

“I’ve been wondering,” you say, as you walk past the main hall, “is the queen- erm, is Malleus’ grandma home?”

You almost bump into Silver the way he stops abruptly to turn and look at her. “You-” Silver gapes at her, and it’s the most visibly surprised you have ever seen him. “You want to meet the queen?”

“Malleus’ grandma,” you insist. “If she’s not home, it’s fine. I just thought it would be weird if she was home and I didn’t stop by and say ‘hi.’” You frown when Silver just continues to stare and wonders if you’ve gotten the family tree wrong.

…Or maybe it’s one of those things where it’s different because Malleus is royalty. 

“No? Is it weirder if I did meet her?” You continue, starting to get nervous at the silence from even Sebek. “Is she busy? I just don’t want her to think I’m being rude if I don’t come to greet her at least.” 

“Human, calm yourself,” Sebek says, huffing. If he looks partially impressed, he doesn’t say anything. “On most occasions, a visit to the castle would warrant an audience with the queen.”

“But she’s not here right now,” Silver says. He cracks a smile. “I should know better now than to be surprised you’re not afraid of meeting the Queen of Briar Valley.” 

“I never said I wouldn’t be,” you mutter. “I’d rather meet her than have her think I’m some delinquent student with no manners meeting her grandson.”

If Silver had any thoughts to share on this matter– that you were ridiculous for worrying over something like that instead of the possibility of offending a powerful queen– he didn’t share them. Instead, he watches you step into the dining hall repurposed for this holiday. “The young master told the guards to fetch the largest pine in the area,” he explains, amused at your evident shock. “So they did.”

“This is a three-day project,” he hears you say absently. Silver looks at the deep green pine that towers over them in a ten-meter loom and feels oddly proud for finding it. Sebek hasn’t stopped glaring at him for the past week for it.

.

Malleus is giddy. It is a word ill-befitting of his appearance and status, but there is no other explanation for his actions. 

Fae are not known to fatigue easily, but Malleus has not felt the need to sleep ever since you last told him that you were able to come to Briar Valley. Since then, he’s collected every appropriate ornament he could procure from human markets that celebrate Christmas– from stars to snow globes to these human-esque figurines they call ‘angels.’ For a holiday dinner, he asked Lilia for recipes (dubious) and mostly took long hours online trying to find some more. And if he’ll be honest, that’s the one part of his quest that has taken him the most time, as inept as he is with modern technology such as the internet or the smartphone. 

He is getting better with how prolific his friends text him, but it still takes him the same amount for him to write one message back to you as it does for you to write ten. He finds that he does not mind that much though; he likes knowing that you enjoy his company to write to him as much as you do.

Oddly enough, even though he knows this, he finds himself… nervous when he’s been informed that you have arrived.

It will be his first time playing host to a guest, among others. Certainly, he’s had political guests from nearby lands; princesses, princes, and counts that he has had no choice but to memorize their names. But this is you: his friend, his underclassman, his– well, your presence definitely meant a lot more to him than any dignitary from a wealthy family. 

Malleus wants you to enjoy your time here.

He walks to the dining room where he can hear your voice rise in excitement, and the anxiety bleeds out in favor of the thought that he would see you again. The sight of the real you in front of him is better than any other image he could have conjured. 

“Malleus!” He hears you call out, and his smile follows after yours like the tide to the moon. 

.

You look at the lines of boxes of decor that Malleus has brought into the dining room with a brief thought that all of these must have cost a fortune. 

“Did you just find whatever you could about Christmas?” You ask, as a joke.

Malleus only nods. “Yes,” he says simply. “Do they suit the needs for our decorations?”

You find it hard to think anyone in the world who celebrates Christmas would be remiss with all the different types of decor that was in the room in neat boxes. Taking out one from the pile, you open it and do not bother suppressing a smile when Malleus, Silver, and Sebek, who cannot resist his own curiosity despite his aversion, peek over your shoulders to see what is inside. 

There is garland for miles, light fixtures for the tree and elsewhere, snow globes and socks to hang over the fireplace. Ornaments to hang on the tree, banners and wreaths to hang on walls and doors, and even figurines like nutcrackers and reindeer to place on a mantel. If there was ever a decoration to be used in Christmas, they are there in one of the many boxes that have been collected. 

You would have thought it would be overwhelming to deal with so many choices, but instead, you find yourself excited at the prospect of having the creative liberty to choose from a wide variety of decor. It helps that Malleus’ eyes are attentively taking in every single material you have pulled out, and that even Silver and Sebek are arguing about what decoration should be placed and in what order. 

“I think we can start with the tree first…” you say. “I think it’s the main event, so I figured we could do it since we’re all decorating it together.”

“Hmph, since you are the more knowledgeable one for this holiday, I will allow you to call the shots for today,” Sebek says, and you gleefully think that’s more than enough of a concession from Sebek than you could ever ask for. 

“Alright, so I think we should start at the top going down with decorations,” you list off thoughtfully, “do bigger decor, lights, then the ornaments…” 

.

It is not as difficult to decorate the tree as you would have thought. For one, as much as Sebek and Silver bicker (mostly Sebek), they work well together because they are simply competent in what they set out to do. There was a fuss as to what garland should be placed on, but considering the size of the tree, it wouldn’t have mattered if everything was piled on. 

As the two flew around the tree to place the garland on, you work on untangling the Christmas lights from their boxes, which seems to be a difficulty even with magic involved. 

“Urgh…” You huff, dropping your arms in exhaustion from carrying what feels to be tons of lights. “No matter how well I packed them, even at home, they always end up all messed up like this.” 

“Yes, these… wires seem susceptible to being entwined,” Malleus agrees. “And you say that they are supposed to be lit up based on… electricity?” 

“Not too much,” you reply. “Or else you fry the light bulb’s circuit. See that tiny wire in the middle of it all?” You smile when Malleus bends down and peers closer at the Christmas light in your palm even though his hands are full of them. “We’ll want to connect it to an outlet with enough amps to power them without-” 

Your eyes widen. “Wait, you don’t have any outlets, do you? You always use magic! I can’t believe I forgot-”

Malleus takes a gloved hand and places it on the metallic prongs on the end of the wires, and the Christmas lights turn on. 

“I see what you mean by not putting too much power into it,” Malleus comments, as though you aren't looking at him with a look even brighter than the lights. 

.

“My, my,” Lilia says, whistling as he enters the dining hall. He looks at the tree which is partially decorated with garland and lights and nods in approval. “It seems the four of you are having fun. How’s the progress?”

“It’s… going,” you say mildly. “We’re going to put the ornaments on soon, but I think we’re a little stuck on what theme we should be going for?” 

Lilia blinks. “Whatever do you mean? It looks fine to me so far.”

“I know, but we’re arguing on what to put as a topper since that’ll finish the look, so-”

“Obviously,” Sebek says, “a statue of the young master should be on top.”

“And how would we get that?” Silver replies, voice even with the familiarity of arguing with Sebek. “We have other things we can choose from. We have a star,” a golden one, “an… angel,” with wings and halo, “this snowman,” with a top hat, “or this… old man with a red and white suit.” 

“That’s Santa,” you pop up. “We usually tell the kids in our town that he would bring presents on a magical sleigh pulled by a few reindeer, and he would climb down the chimney to drop the presents off underneath the tree.”

“How would he fit down each chimney?” Malleus asks, hand propped on his chin thoughtfully. “What if the house has no chimney?” 

“Well-”

“That is besides the point!” Sebek says fervently as you grins at him sheepishly. “If we place a symbol of the young master on top of the tree, the decor should be green!”

“Green on a green tree?” Silver sighs. “I’m not an interior designer but that won’t be as eye-popping as red or even silver and gold.”

“Sounds like quite the conundrum,” Lilia says lightly. If he is amused by how passionate the two guardsmen are over decorations for a human holiday they discovered not two weeks ago, he does not show it. “What does Malleus think?”

The four of them look toward Malleus who blinks at the attention. “How about a star on top? The decorations can be of any color, size, or shape as a result.”

Lilia claps his hands. “That’s settled.”

“Well, actually…” You say, trailing when the four Diasomnia members look at you. You bring up four different kinds of star toppers, much to half of their horror and to Lilia’s glee. “Which star do we want then?”

.

Malleus watches as you sit down in a huff next to him on the couch they dragged closer to the fireplace. You stretch your arms, saying something about snack-time as you both wait for Sebek, Silver, and Lilia to come back with much needed drinks and food for your break. Your shoulder and thigh end up touching his, and he finds that despite the fact they have plenty of room on the couch to be a distance from each other, he deigns not to mention it in case you decide to move away.

“Who knew Sebek and Silver would get so excited over ornaments,” you comment, laughter in your voice. It’s teasing when you address him, “They’re almost as excited as you to decorate the whole place up.”

There is always a funny feeling in his chest whenever you tease him– a mix of embarrassment and happiness to be known well enough to be spoken to so familiarly. He has yet to learn how to deliver a similar response back as readily as you do, but he is beginning to learn wherever he can. Besides, you don't seem to mind his straightforward comments.

“Yes, it is quite a surprise to me too. But I suppose it is hard not to be,” Malleus says, “when we have someone such as you to encourage and guide us.” He’s gratified when he sees you hide a pleased smile behind your hand. 

“Oh, stop,” you say, laughing, and he’s learned to understand that he’s welcome to continue his praise any time. “I’m so glad you decided to invite me to celebrate with you. This is the funnest I’ve had decorating for Christmas in ages.” You go to admire the tree and he turns to watch with you, only for him to look back briefly when he feels you lean into him, eyes still looking forward. 

He lets you lean, a small smile on his face.

.

Malleus knows that Silver and Sebek may sometimes have their qualms with his human choice of close companionship, but he feels grateful to know that they have your back in the face of Lilia’s cooking. 

You insist that you should try just a tiny bite, just to see what all the fuss is about, but all three of them are adamant about keeping you in the dark about the horror that lies behind Lilia’s gastronomy skills. Lilia is mildly confused but more than welcome to give more to the rest of the Diasomnia dorm if they are so eager to take your portion. Sebek blanches but stays true to his resolve, and even Silver, who looks tempted to fall asleep on the spot (or even pretend to if he cannot induce it) furrows his brows and bears it. 

Malleus should have known better than to think he would ever be able to stop you from doing what you want to do. 

You take a bite out of the gingersnap cookie faster than any of them can react. The four of them stare (three in apprehension, one in anticipation). You stop chewing after the third time and open your mouth. 

“Lilia… What did you put in this?”

“Oh, ginger, of course.” 

“...Anything else?” 

“...and garlic, all spice, honey, turmeric-” 

“I thought this was gingersnap?!”

You swallow your piece and take another just to be polite, but you and Lilia end up talking about the concept of a “balanced diet” and how not each dish has to be balanced to achieve a balanced diet. They aren’t sure if Lilia will get it, but perhaps an outsider’s opinion will finally change things for the better around here– and this thought is coming from even Sebek. 

Lilia seems thoughtful, not offended at all by the way you are framing the situation, talking about masking the aroma of the original dish by throwing in too many ingredients. When Lilia decides to try changing his style of cooking, they think perhaps the human legend of a Christmas miracle is real.

Change is not instant, unfortunately.

The other three, while Lilia is distracted, quietly slide their large portion of cookies to the serving plate and hope no one but them notices.

.

You don’t quite finish the tree that day, much to Sebek’s dismay. Your reassurance that you thought it would take more than three days goes unheeded as Sebek vows to complete the tree spectacularly tomorrow. 

Dinner at the Fairy Castle is a much quieter affair than you anticipated, but then again, your image of a castle is immensely more fairytale than what it seems to be. The five of them eat dinner deliciously set out by the chef, and the food, at least, is exactly how you imagined it to be. 

When Silver and Sebek turn in for the night, Lilia and Malleus show you to your room, and it's much bigger than any bedroom of yours have any right to be. The bed is a queen-size or king-size bed, though you can hardly tell the difference besides the fact it can fit more than four of you onto one. The view from the window is astonishingly grand, and the stars are clearly visible from this height even without a telescope.

Lilia bids you good night and it is just the two of you left in the room. You can feel your eyes drooping but you smile sleepily at Malleus who lingers at the door. "You wanna watch the stars before I fall asleep?" You ask and like clockwork, the two of you end up sitting by the windowsill, pointing at the constellations you can identify. 

Malleus, of course, knows much more than you do, having seen the same set of stars for the past century. You don't give up though, pointing out the other planets, hoping you actually remember the placement of them. It isn't long until you have him creating different constellations with you, playing connect the dots with much more celestial parts. In some ways, this is familiar— the way you guide Malleus through a silly detour to expand the way he looks at things.

"And there," you say, aligning the stars, "is the broom Azul keeps falling off during P.E."

"Is that so?" Malleus says in amusement. "How can you differentiate between brooms in the night sky?"

And this too– Malleus indulging in your sense of humor, playing along to the very end- has become a very familiar thing. He looks over to you with a focus that goes unnoticed as your eyes flutter in drowsiness. 

You can still giggle though. "It's because it's upright," you say, laughing at your own joke. 

Malleus likes this side of you too, partly delirious from sleepiness, inhibitions stripped by the presence of the dark and the way a day of hard work seeps into your bones. He thinks it's about time for you to fall asleep, though he would not mind staying up all night with you. “Are you falling asleep?” He asks, letting you lean onto him.

“I guess so,” you reply, yawning. You rub your eyes. “I’ll get in bed before I snooze on you.” You smile at him, and he only just resists telling you that he would be more than happy to lend his shoulder for you to sleep on. 

Perhaps another night.

“Good night, child of man,” Malleus says, watching you snuggle into a bed that more than dwarfs your figure. He hears you mumble a ‘good night’ and it is not long until you fall asleep.

You trust him to sleep in his presence; every time this happens, Malleus is still in awe. Your chest rises steadily with each breath you take, and Malleus takes his hand to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. He wishes you sweet dreams and makes the room dark.

Christmas is approaching. 

[sfnerdyart]

*Piano Intensifies*

This week's Pokémon Trainer Card is the lovely Sinnoh Champion Cynthia and her Garchomp!

Hardest champion ever? Actually, she took me a solid week to beat in BDSP.

My name is Cynthia. I'm a Trainer just like you. I've been studying Pokémon mythology lately, just out of curiosity. Together, you and your Pokémon overcame all the challenges you faced, however difficult. It means that you've triumphed over any personal weaknesses, too. The power you learned... I can feel it emanating from you. But that's enough talk. Let's get on with why you're here. As the Pokémon League Champion, I accept your challenge!"

As always, I appreciate all the support! The journey continues next week!

[uelden]

Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each – we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano

[13uswntimagines]

Family’s Hard (Kristie Mewis x Reader)

Request: part 2 of the fic with Kristie that you post today! Maybe something with the r and Kristie both getting call for the national camp and we see a bit of what happen at camp with mal. pt 2. Maybe with both the reader and Kristine on the USENT roster and the fallout with Amal because of the reader being there. part 2 of the reader and mal meet up again joined by the team

Pt. One 

You had never been more unhappy while staring at a plate full of pancakes in your entire existence. You loved your typical practice meal (and your girlfriend of almost a year’s hand on your thigh while you ate it), but you weren’t enjoying the disapproving glare you were getting from across the table. She had been like this the moment you stepped off the plane, and you feared she wouldn’t stop until camp was over. 

It wasn’t like you decided to sit at this table to annoy Mal. Kristie wanted to sit with Sam, and you weren’t about to brave the dining room all by your little lonesome (plus you liked the team's Tower of Power and enjoyed watching the siblings banter).

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, pushing your chocolate chip pancakes around the plate, and keeping your eyes trained on your fork. 

“You ok?” Your girlfriend asked, her lips caressing your ear. You didn’t miss the way your older sister's nose scrunched at the looseness between you and the older midfielder. 

“Just tired. The flight from Houston was super long,” You mumbled, shrugging lightly. 

“You sure?” Kristie nudged your cheek with her nose and squeezed your thigh. You had been jittery since you left your shared apartment in Houston to head for camp and no amount of reassuring from your girlfriend seemed to be helping. 

“Psh. The flight home from France was exhausting, and then we had to get ready for good morning America. That was crazy, right Sammy?” Mal said with a wicked smile, completely cutting you off. Your mouth clicked shut and Kristie squeezed your thigh again (her jaw working overtime to prevent the scathing comment from leaving the tip of her tongue). 

Mal had been impossible since you stepped foot into the hotel the USWNT had commandeered for camp. She had swung between outright bitchy and underhanded reminders of Jill's preference of her over you all day and Kristie was getting sick of it. Your shoulders slouched a little more with every remark, every jab clouding over a little bit more of your sunshine. 

“That was pretty crazy,” Sam nodded, watching you and her sister carefully. She was trying to run as much interference as she could, but it seemed your sister wanted to make you as uncomfortable as possible. Almost like she was trying to drive you off the team. 

“Definitely not as crazy as that party right after we won. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much champagne in my entire life. Not even after we beat Texas,” Mal added, and you shivered at the memory, wilting under her glare. 

It was your freshman year (and coincidentally Mal’s senior year), and the first time the two of you had ever really played against each other. UCLA decimated your team and took over a frat house to celebrate. From what you heard, it was one of the biggest parties Texas A&M had ever seen. 

Kristie sighed, wrapping the arm that was on your leg around your back, rubbing soothing circles. You leaned into the touch, still playing with the food on your plate, trying to hold your tongue and not rise to Mal’s prodding. 

“From what I hear there was a lot of alcohol after Houston won the challenge cup,” Sam nodded, sharing a look with her sister and side-eyeing her friend. 

“That was just beer, Sammy. It wasn’t as classy because no one cares about an arbitrary chaos cup win, especially after we won the World Cup. It’s all about scale,” Mal continued, completely ignoring the glare Kristie had pointed at her, enjoying the way you were squirming in your chair. 

You shoved your plate away, giving up on eating. You didn’t want to be here. 

“I'm sure. I’m gonna go. The uniform staff wanted to see me anyway,” You mumbled, just loud enough for Kristie to hear you (or so you thought). 

Mal’s vicious smile grew. She just couldn’t seem to help herself when it came to you. You were always chasing after her, and this time she had done what you couldn’t. She wasn’t ready to give that up yet. 

“I’d tell you to switch names, but all I can suggest is to pick a number you can actually live up to,” She sneered. 

Your entire being froze and you blinked owlishly at your older sister (taking comfort in how Kristie's arm tightened around you). 13 had been your number since high school, but you knew that Alex was a vet and you weren’t stupid (or disrespectful) enough to even dream of trying to take it. You knew you would never be even close to the level of Alex Morgan. 

You had accepted that and Instead chosen a different number, one you were proud to wear. You had no control over the last name on your jersey (until Kristie and you decided you wanted to get married, if you wanted to get married, and that was still pretty far off). 

“Come on. They wanted to do a quick check-in with me too,” Kristie said, standing and dragging you with her out of the room, her eyes sending daggers towards your sister. She was done watching you collapse back into yourself. 

****

Sam stared at Mal’s Cheshire Cat grin, her mouth agape. She didn’t understand why your older sister was being like this, or how she could continue eating as though she didn’t just rip you apart. (And at this rate someone had to stop her before Kristie killed her). 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sam said, leaning forward and resting both elbows on the table. 

Mal shrugged, taking another sip of her orange juice. “What? I’m just being realistic,”

If you didn’t want to hear stories about their triumph at the World Cup, or how awesome the party was afterward, you could just find yourself a new seat (and take your girlfriend with you- you always did have to outdo her). 

“You were a little harsh babe,” Rose said softly, patting the forward's hand. 

Sam scoffed loudly, shaking her head. “She practically crumbled under that last comment,”

It was painful to watch your shy bean self withdraw back into the shell her sister worked so hard to crack. Even if you had Kristie here to support you, she wasn’t sure how long you would last without bursting into tears or getting into a screaming match with your sister. You were under enough pressure as it was. 

“She’s just overly sensitive. If she wants to play in the big leagues she’s going to have to learn to stand up for herself,” Mal rolled her eyes. 

It was a going joke in your family that Mal got the brains and beauty, while you just got the leftover emotions. Ever since you were kids, she had been the extroverted one saving you from bullies and being the “good example” that her parents wanted her to be. But this was her thing, and she didn’t want you horning in on it. (It was also a slight protective instinct too. She would rather be the one giving you shit than the media. They were ruthless and you would probably never forgive her. The road to hell was paved with good intentions after all.)

Sam sighed, taking in how Mal’s eyes tighten just a touch beneath her nonchalance. As much as she wanted to pretend she didn’t care about you, it was obvious that she did. The questions now were if she was willing to have a change of attitude and if she would even be able to repair the damage she had already done. 

“Just be careful with how far you push her, alright?” Sam said thoughtfully. 

Mal rolled her eyes again, any care she may have felt disappearing. “I know what I’m doing Sam,” 

“I really hope you do, because I remember what it was like to always be trying to live up to your older sister and how difficult that was. And Kristie knew when to cut me some slack,” Sam said, raising her eyebrow at the younger woman. 

She really hoped she could get through to her before Mal lost you, and Kristie kicked her head off. 

*****

You sighed into Kristie's lips, enjoying the way her hips pinned you to the wall and her tongue explored your mouth. You weren’t one for public displays of affection, but she had dragged you into an abandoned corner of the hotel after your sister's clear display of disdain. 

You guessed an upside to being at camp with Mal was your girlfriend's desire to cheer you up. You always responded better to physical contact (which was why Kristie used it to help you calm down all the time). 

You hummed as the hands under your shirt made their way up to cup your cheeks, her fingers tangling in the baby hairs at the back of your neck. She let the kiss continue for another minute, before pulling back, so her lips were just barely ghosting over your own and your foreheads were touching. 

You futilely tried to push off the wall and chase her lips, only for her to chuckle and pull back so you couldn’t reach, keeping you pinned with her hips. 

“Ah, no more kisses until you say it,” She mumbled, her breath fanning across your lips. 

You whined. You loved how supportive Kristie was, but you didn’t want to do this right now. You didn’t want to go through your normal reaffirmation routine. Not after the shots, Mal had taken at you. 

“But-“

Kristie chucked at the keening whine again, shaking her head (both at how adorable your pout was and because she was standing her ground). She learned a long time ago that the best way to stop your mental spiraling was for you to say how worth it you were. “No buts. To get what you want you gotta say it,” 

You huffed, I ally opening your eyes to look into Kristie’s determined blue. She raised her eyebrow at you. 

“I’m an amazing person, no matter what anyone says,” You mumbled, looking away from your girlfriend. She hummed, using her thumb to tilt your chin back up. 

“And?” She asked, a smile playing on her lips. Your pout deepened. You were set to start and Mal had made you feel bad about it. Now Kristie was trying to get you to admit that you deserved the opportunity. 

The two of you stared at each other for a long minute, and you debated in trying to get back to the kissing again, to not say the last part of your mantra. Kristie's thumb ran soothingly over your cheek as if she was reading your mind. “Come on babe,” she said softly. 

You bit your lip, finally giving in. “I shouldn’t feel guilty about opportunities I receive,”

“Good,” Kristie smiled, leaning back in to connect your lips. You smiled back into the kiss. Maybe things weren’t so bad if you got this treatment after your sister was mean to you, even if Kristie was trying to get you to finally confront her about her behavior. “And for the record, you can always say you’ll have a cooler last name later,” 

*****

This was getting out of hand. Very out of hand. You hit the ground again, your face scraping against the turf after another bad tackle. You groaned, pushing yourself up off the turf and brushing yourself off, ignoring the hand of the defender in front of you in favor of taking the hand your girlfriend offered. 

Kristie glared at the blond defender, very pissed off that she was pushing you so hard. “Fucking watch it Sonnett, another tackle like that and I’ll beat your ass myself,” Your girlfriend growled, brushing a stray piece of turf off your back. 

Emily shrugged, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck. “Just trying to test the Rookie. Need to make sure she can handle a little pressure,” 

She liked you, but with the pressure, Mal was putting n you, she thought that they were all going to go hard. To show you exactly how difficult this game could be and how much you needed to work to be on their level. 

“I think Mal is doing enough of that on her own,” Kristie raised her eyebrow at the woman, still rubbing the turf off your back and cringing at the new burn. If this hadn’t been a teammate’s doing, she probably would have killed them by now. Ripped them limb from limb for touching you, but you didn’t need that. You needed her support and not her overprotectiveness. 

“She actually needs to be able to play against Canada,” Sam said, patting her back. Emily shook her head. Mal was right. She would rather be the one to go hard on you and prepare you than some random defender who didn’t care at all. 

As far as she was concerned, Mal’s plan was still in effect and you were going to have to pull some trick to get past her again. 

****

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Kristie threaded a ball through the gap between Becky and Julie, straight to you. You turned, taking advantage of the gap in the backline, dribbling across to try and get a clear shot. 

You didn’t see that gap collapsing. You didn’t see Emily and Midge racing towards you until it was too late. There was a loud crunch as you were caught between the two defenders, and tumbled to the ground. 

The reaction from the rest of the team was instant. Kristie raced over, followed closely by Sam. Both women kneeling down next to you, trying to get you to roll over. It seemed that another blue blur was already laying into the two defenders. 

“Lay the fuck off my sister,” Mal yelled, shoving Sonnett back from where her shifting form was standing over you. 

Emily held her hands up in defense, stumbling away from you. “I’m just trying to keep the intensity up, exactly like you are,” 

Mal growled audibly, stepping up to the taller defender and wrapping her fist into her shirt. “It’s different. She’s my sister and I’m the only one who gets to fuck with her. Got it,” she said her voice deadly calm. 

Emily nodded rapidly, her eyes wide as Mal straightened her shirt, patting her shoulder. Emily backed away slowly, her hands still extended, terrified that Mal (and your girlfriend) would decide to actually kill her. 

Mal nodded once the offending defenders were far enough away from you, before turning in your direction. 

You were finally on your feet, shifting awkwardly and rubbing the back of your neck. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled as she approached. 

She smiled, pulling you into a very strange hug.“You got it, kid. I love you, even if you’re not as good as me yet,”

She let you go and winked. You smiled and trotted off back to your position, warmth filling you. Sure you weren’t on the best terms, but you were sisters and the act was like a white flag. A truce. 

Kristie caught Mal’s arms as she passed. “Learn to lay off a little bit. I don’t want to have to hurt you,”

Mal nodded. You were family mad the only one who got to mess with you was her. She would kill anyone else who tried and she was glad you had gained two protectors. 

[carocane]

Anywhere With You

Flufftober Day 24 - Caught in the Rain

9-1-1

Eddie Diaz/Evan “Buck” Buckley

“C’mon Eds, let's go just a little farther. Just one more mile. Then we’ll go home.”

Eddie is tempted to keep hiking this beautiful path with Buck but those storm clouds to the south are getting more ominous by the second. Getting caught up in that won’t be fun.

“I don’t know Buck. We should probably go back before we get it starts pouring down on us,” Eddie says skeptically. He’d really rather not get rained on today, if at all possible. But Buck is giving him the sad puppy dog eyes and Eddie is generally helpless against them.

He takes another look at the sky above them, the dark clouds not far from where they were when he first spotted them. It doesn’t seem to be a very fast moving system. They might have time to get to the end of the trail before they’re forced to go back. 

Buck is waiting there in front of him, still looking eager to continue on. And who is Eddie to deny his boyfriend anything he wants? Onward it is. They should have enough time. This trail is not a difficult one, especially for two men in good health and fitness levels.

“Ok, Babe, let’s get to the end of the trail, then we have to get out of here. No photo ops today,” Eddie tells him. They would be here another half an hour taking the perfect picture if Buck had his way. They’ll have to rush to beat the storm clouds.

Buck pouts one more time but gives in with grace. “Ok, then race you to the end.” He doesn’t even give Eddie a chance to respond to the challenge, just turns to jog down the path, tossing a smile over his shoulder. Eddie is once again powerless against it and races after him, their laughter echoing behind them.  

Eddie loves times like these. Just him and Buck and the universe open in front of them, not a care in the world. 

Of course the universe chooses that moment for the clouds to pick up speed, shift direction, and pour directly on them. The two are soaked through within seconds. 

Eddie has caught up to Buck and is just about to overtake him when he feels the first drops. He debates turning around right there to head back but knows he will get rained on on matter what. Might as well hit the end of the trail, hopefully ahead of Buck. 

He does reach the end first, though he’s not sure how. Buck is usually faster than him, with his long legs that eat up the distance.  He lifts his arms in triumph, feeling the drops of rain cooling his face as he raises it to the sky. 

“I win,” Eddie crows into the wind. Buck still hasn’t caught up to him and Eddie knows a few seconds of concern and confusion. 

He turns back the way they came and sees Buck down on one knee. Eddie thinks he might be hurt, until he sees something in Buck’s hand. Did he find a cool rock or something? Buck is always picking stuff up for Christopher that he thinks the kid will like.

As Eddie watches, Buck shifts more definitively to one knee and holds the object in his hands up. It just catches the last flashes of sun in the sky and Eddie’s breath gets stuck in his throat. Is that what he thinks it is?

Buck looks gorgeous kneeling there, wind ruffling his hair and clothes starting to stick to his skin from the rain. 

Eddie walks the few steps back toward Buck, taking in the wonderful picture he makes there. “Do you have something to ask, on one knee like that?” Eddie teases his partner, sure now what’s happening. 

“Yeah, I have something to ask.” Buck takes a deep breath and holds the ring up higher toward Eddie, an offering. “We’ve been partners in everything for a few years now. Will you marry me and be my husband and partner in life?”

Eddie is awestruck by the love he feels for and from the man in front of him. So awestruck, it takes longer than it should for him to shout his answer. “YES! Yes, of course. I want nothing more than to be your husband. Well, maybe to get out of this rain before we drown.”

The rain has started to fall heavier around them, trying to ruin their happiness. But a little water can’t dampen their love.

Buck leaps up, mud already coating his legs, and pulls Eddie into his arms briefly. They share a kiss to seal their engagement and then make a run for it back down the path. They have to be careful to not slip as the mud gets deeper and the rain shows no sign of letting up.

They make it back to the car and back home without incident, thankfully.

As soon as they enter the house, they peel off their sodden clothing that’s sticking to them unpleasantly. They’re both freezing cold from the rain, deciding to hop in the shower to warm up some. 

In the shower, Eddie drops to his own knees with an idea on how to warm them both up in a more interesting way.

After their shower, they dress in their warmest clothes and cuddle up on the couch. Who knew it could be so cold in California? 

“I was hoping for this to be perfect, but if I didn’t do it today, I’m not sure when I would do it. I had this whole plan but didn’t count on it raining.” Buck admits as they lounge around, tired and sated from their earlier activities.

“It was perfect. It was perfect because it was you. It was us.” Eddie assures him, pulling Buck in to trade deep, lazy kisses, warming them both up even more. 

It wouldn’t be them without a little misadventure. Who gets caught in one of the rare California rain storms for their engagement? At least they’ll have quite a story to tell Christopher later. Much later. They don’t have plans to go anywhere for a while.

[makingspiritualityreal]

Numerology Life Path 1 - Your Birth Card and its Ruling Planet

Numerology Life Path Numbers and their assigned Tarot Card Meaning Series

This is the first post in my astrology/numerology/tarot series, that only concerns you, if you are a Life Path 1. Posts on consecutive Life Path Numbers will follow. Originally, I wanted to do them all in one post, but my writing turned out to be so long, I decided to split the post and seperate the Life Path Numbers. The introduction part of the post will be the same for all Life Path Numbers, in case you only read a post about your own Life Path Number, and nothing else.

Introduction   

The concept of a Birth Card links Tarot and Numerology together, in order to deepen our understanding of a vibration of a Life Path Number we are born with. The Birth Card, or rather Birth Cards, are Major Arcana Tarot Cards with assigned numbers, which correlate with Life Path Numbers. Understanding the meaning of tarot cards, mixed with the knowledge of Numerology Vibrations, helps create a more unique vision of your life experience.

A person with any given Life Path Number, having several Major Arcana energies present in their lives, usually struggles with one of the energies more than the other. As a result, life will probably force them to focus on mastering one of these energies. In general, however, any Life Path describes both your biggest downfall and ultimate triumph - just like with an Astrology Chart, the highlighted numbers/astrology houses point to your biggest strengths and weaknesses. For a better understanding of this concept, visit my article “Natal Chart - A map of your issues?”

Remember, that everyone, besides their Life Path Number and Birth Card also has a unique astrology chart. Thus, for some people embracing the higher expression of their energy is easier, for others it’s harder and it takes more time to master, and some energies become easier to deal with than others. Most human beings are somewhere in between, working on their path and having some achievements while struggling with difficulties at the same time 

In the spiritual community, there are differences in opinion on linking Astrological Planets and positions to specific numerology numbers energies. My take is a result of my own personal experience, conversations with other people in my field and research, in order to give you the widest possible spectrum of ideas and increase the understanding of every Life Path Number.

If you are a Master Number 11, 22 or 33, there will be a seperate post on how the Birth Cards apply to you as well. 

Even If you have only a basic understanding of Astrology, Tarot or Numerology, this post will still be helpful to you, because it describes the unique vibrational mix that comes from the expression of both these spiritual sciences mixed together. To calculate which Tarot Cards and what Life Path correspond to your birthday, click here.

Life Path 1 - The Wheel of Fortune, the Sun and the Magician 

One of the biggest struggles of a Life Path 1 is their need to release control patterns, and instead channel them into direction and embrace their own unique path through allowing themselves to be different and authentic. This requires these people to accept an element of faith in their lives, because as a pioneer, they won’t have any easy, familiar, logical guidelines or role models to follow. They have to learn how to identify, trust and listen to and follow their inner voice. That intuitive voice then leads them to a creative manifestation of their life path, as they become a trendsetter, leader and guide for others. Faith in their case means believing in themselves and their path, even if they can’t see a precise outline, and even if they have noone to validate their vision. 

Being born with this life path brings with it issues of the opposite nature to its purpose, before these natives manage to step into their unique creative or leadership position. These people may face rejection, ostracism and lack of acceptance for who they are, they may be rejected for not fitting in, for being “different” and misunderstood, starting with their family circle. This brings out the shadow side of the life path 1, which is practicing control, conformism and people pleasing, while they close off their heart and hide away from following their path. This can happen especially if they carry lingering intense trauma from all the rejection and possible abandonment they faced early on in their lives. Difficult situations can lead a Life Path 1 to adopt a coping strategy - while they people-please on the surface, they maintain tight, even repressive control underneath, which creates internal emotional blockages that result in selfishness, self centeredness, lack of openness and nervous tension. 

As much as these behaviors come from a place of suffering, the illusion of people pleasing that an unhappy Life Path 1 can create can have little to do with actual caring for others or forming bonds, since it is performed out of a need for self protection, not out of love. A hurt life Path 1 succumbs to a false belief, that the world is against them, and that everyone only cares for themselves. As a result, their emotional unavailability can create a high level of internalised loneliness due to icing out or hurting those, who actually care for them. Yet, even a suffering version of a Life Path 1, despite their individualistic streak deeply craves people validating their mission in this lifetime. If not worked on, this internal emotional blockage can stop these people from blossoming and stepping into their authentic role. 

To look into the ultimate expression that can be performed by a Life Path 1, we look at the assigned Tarot Birth Cards. 

The Magician - Being the Number 1 in Tarot, the Magician pertains to this Life Path having an ability to create and manifest their own, individual unique path, without needing to follow others, but rather inspiring others to follow them. The Magician being linked to the ultimate manifestation skill, does so easily because he trusts his gut instinct, and the path simply appears right in front of his eyes due to his own instantaneous, energetic creation. For better or for worse, Life Path 1s have that power, whether they realise it or not. Being such skillful manifestors, they can use it either to build, or to attract and recreate painful events, as long as it’s necessary for them to heal. This points to an essential question every Life Path 1 should ask themselves on the daily - what inside me has created this outcome? Which one of my internal decisions and emotional reactions has resulted in this situation? How did I subconsciously manifest this outcome? Life Path 1s are living proof, of how each and every one of us is an architect of our energetic reality, and how we always have a possibility to manifest a new beginning. A Life Path 1 that embraced this skill is someone, who effortlessly wields their creation power as an art of living. 

The Wheel of Fortune - This card points to the necessity for this Life Path to be able to learn how to handle life’s unpredictable situations, and not lose themselves in their false coping control mechanisms as a result of the shock. The Wheel of Fortune is a card of Fate, a card of sudden, unexpected events, that we have no influence over, but also the card of hopeful new beginnings, the understanding, that even the most dire situation can turn around. This card shows us, that the Universe is a balancing force, that works towards harmony by intervening in necessary moments, no matter how unpleasant these changes may seem to us, and that we can’t know, plan or influence everything with our limited perspective. This card is a projection of the internal faith, that a Life Path 1 must preserve in order to continue on their path with limited external support. The Wheel of Fortune shows us, that we need to surrender to the events happening around us, try to understand the meaning behind them, and make the most out of them. This also links to the Magician ability of creating something substantial even in the most difficult circumstances. These are all important lessons for a Life Path 1, that can resist certain events, if it feels they happened outside of their pre-approved plan. However, a matured Life Path 1 views these twists and turns of faith as new opportunities, that allow them to go even further and achieve more in life, because they know sometimes a shake-up is a wake up call.

The Sun - Teaches the Life Path 1 individual, how to embrace the carefree, free-spirited nature of this Tarot Card. This is necessary, in order to be able to breeze through life and not stop in one’s pursuit, even in the face of external disapproval. Number 1 is also ruled by the Sun astrologically, especially the positive, warming, leadership aspect, that makes people feel cared for in its own, unique way. This describes the role, that a Life Path 1 can have in their community, when they communicate with it from an authentic, open heart space. The key here is honesty with oneself and uninhibited self expression.

Being such an individualistic life path, in Number 1 there is a level of solitary, internal work that always needs to be done, even if it’s performed in response to someone else’s advice or support. The struggle here is mostly internal, as it is a constant battle of being able to have clarity of vision, a fight for how things “should be” and a challenge of embracing how things actually are. As they grow older, Life Path 1s gain understanding, that most of the guidelines they lived by are false mechanisms, adopted from an early environment that was constantly trying to constrict their internal growth. When they mature, they let these restrictions go, and unapologetically follow the calling of their soul.

The path of being a pioneer is an uncharted territory, a battle through obstacles, that does however bring an ultimate victory, if one embraces the challenges and powers through them. All pioneers are call madmen, before they are called geniuses.