#maybe this is just what happens as you get old but there are people my age who do 'get' current music so it also may be just me

[evilmenenjoyer]

City of Love

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

Summary: Months after winning the Squid Games, you receive an unwanted visit from the man who's been haunting you since the very beginning.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), drinking, sex in a public place, some murderous thoughts. Don't be fooled by the title, it's very much not a fluffy romantic fic lol.

*

The City of Love.

At least, that's what everyone calls it. It felt like the place to be after all the horrors you had endured in the past year – horrors you don't dare to say a word about to another soul. Friends and acquaintances have told you about how great it is, how beautiful, how magical. About how just a few days here will heal any woes in your heart.

Of course, it didn't work. Now you're just depressed in Paris.

It's not all bad. The Eiffel tower looks just as pretty as it does in pictures, especially late at night when it lights up and sparkles. The historic architecture and cobblestone streets are a nice break from the modern buildings you're used to from Seoul, so different it almost erases the memories sometimes. Never for too long. Just when you think you're slipping back into something resembling normalcy, they return in your nightmares in the shape of blood, pink jumpsuits and children’s games.

This afternoon, it takes the shape of a ghost – a tall, handsome man, whose face you’ve only ever seen in dreams and in the subway lines of Seoul.

All color drains from your face in a matter of seconds, all that pink winter flush.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He smiles, like you're an old friend. It nearly throws you off your balance by how natural it looks, like he's not forcing it.

“Beautiful city, isn't it? Especially at this time of the year.”

This can't be happening. The whole reason you left South Korea was to put distance between yourself and those horrific games, and all the people associated with them. To just run into one right here, in a different continent, mere months after your victory; it makes you feel like you're about to pass out.

You stand up from your seat and walk right out of the patisserie, leaving your ridiculously overpriced hot chocolate nearly untouched on the table.

You knew, somehow, that he would follow you, but you still prayed he wouldn’t. That it had been your imagination, or the PTSD, or anything other than the Salesman himself crossing paths with you in Paris.

“I expected a warmer welcome,” a voice behind you says, making you pause your stroll down the street. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – you still haven’t completely lost track of what's real and what's not, and you can tell that voice is real, clear as day. He’s real and here and that terrifies you to your very core.

Turning around to face him, you hate how he still looks every bit as infuriatingly handsome as he did the first time you saw him.

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, your voice shaky and not nearly as incisive ad you’d like it to be.

“Visiting,” he replies. He turns to gaze at the scenery around you. In your hurry to get away from him, you didn't even realize you ended up at the Pont Neuf, the old bridge crossing the Seine River. Dusk settles around the two of you, the purple-ish color of the sky reflected on the river, almost too pretty for this situation. “Like I said, France is quite nice during the winter.”

You scoff. “You expect me to believe it's just a big coincidence that you and I ended up in the same place, five thousand miles away from home, at the same time?”

“Small world, isn't it?”

“I’m serious. I did everything you people wanted. I beat the games, I took the money and I kept my mouth shut. You were supposed to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Did what we wanted?” Something in his smile changes, shifts from warmth to something more sinister. “We never forced you to do anything. Remember that. You brought whatever happened on yourself.”

Cold air rushes over you, drawing a shiver out of you. It's not snowing yet, but it start might soon. It's hard to remember you were once excited for it.

He reaches out, ignoring the warnings in your eyes as he runs a finger over the smooth fabric of your scarf, then wraps it around your neck one more time. It’s almost a tender gesture, if he was someone else entirely. It should have you flinching, or slapping his hand away. Instead, it only makes you freeze in your spot.

“Yves Saint Laurent,” he notes. “I see you’ve been making good use of that money.”

It doesn't sound accusatory, but it feels like it anyway. Even after months, it still feels wrong to use the money, despite all the literal blood, sweat and tears it took to get it. Like you should be gathering it all in a pile and setting fire to it in protest. But what would that change? Why shouldn't you be allowed to use it to build a new life for yourself?

So you stayed in five star hotels. So you bought a few more pairs of Louboutin shoes than necessary. Therapy was out of the question, so this was the next best thing you could come up with for the time being. Best-case scenario, a therapist would think you're a nutcase. Worst case, they’d turn you in to the authorities for confessing to multiple murders you had committed at the Squid Games. You didn’t want to take the risk.

“I thought that was the idea,” you say. The Salesman’s hands are still on the fabric, merely touching it, but that doesn't stop your mind from picturing him gripping it, pulling on it until you suffocate in the garment you bought as some empty, mediocre sign of victory.

“It suits you.” He lets his hands fall with no damage to your throat or to your respiratory system. “Much better than those knock-offs you used to wear.”

It disturbs you that he even remembers that. As far as you know, you were only one of the hundreds of people who had played ddakji with him at the subway station. You remembered every second of it, replayed it in your mind over and over again, but there was nothing particularly memorable about you back then. You lost most rounds. You hoped against hope that he would ask you out, even after your cheek was red and stinging.

That was a different version of you. One that smiled more, even with all the hardships in your life. One that was too naive to realize she was selling her soul to the devil from that very first game of ddakji.

“Since the city brought us together,” the Salesman says, “I’d like to buy you a drink.”

It would be impossible to keep the surprise from your face if you’d tried. Those are words you would've loved to hear all those months ago, and now that he says them, you can barely draw enough air into your lungs to tell him to fuck off.

“Why? So you can kill me the second we’re off the street?”

He chuckles, like he finds your confusion amusing. “Why would I do that?”

“Isn't that why you're here?” Why else would it be, after all? Maybe it's part of their sick games; to give one person the illusion of victory, let them enjoy the money for a few months, then go after them and kill them. Or worse, pull them back in.

“If I wanted to kill you, I could do it anywhere.”

You suppose there's no arguing with that, but you're not sure if it makes you feel better. Good news: you're still breathing. Bad news: you're still breathing only until he allows you to.

“You still didn't tell me why you came after me, then,” you point out.

“Let's have a drink, and I’ll tell you.”

You must be insane for even considering this. The naive girl that had first seen him in the subway, coming home late at night from work, would be enthusiastically urging you to go. You’re supposed to know better than her.

“One drink,” you say. “Then you go home and never contact me again.”

His smile widens. “I know a nice place.”

*

He brings you to a piano bar just a few blocks away from the bridge. It's a fancy place, the kind that makes you feel underdressed even in your designer clothes. He blends right in – not only because of the sleek, tailored suit, but because of his demeanor, the natural elegance with which he carries himself.

Not for the first time, you wonder if he was born into wealth, or if he was ever like you. Someone who had to claw his way out of poverty. You can't picture it, but there's so much you don't know about him. It's what makes him so scary and confusing to you, but also so damn intriguing.

He orders for you before you have the chance to open your mouth. Dom Pérignon, two glasses. You raise your eyebrows once the waiter walks away.

“Are we celebrating something?”

“Your victory.”

The response makes your stomach drop. “I don't want to celebrate that.” Not with anyone, but especially not with him.

He gives a small shrug. “Just a special occasion, then.”

The dimmed, warm lights of the bar make the place feel so intimate, almost romantic in a sense. You don't know what to make of it, so you force yourself to look away from him, even when you can still feel his stare unflinching on you. Luckily, the waiter shows up just in time, pouring you both glasses of the bubbly drink and leaving the bottle in a bucket on the table.

You turn back to the Salesman, glaring at him. “I said one drink, not one bottle.”

“You never specified,” he replies, fake innocence in his eyes. “Gives us more time to catch up. Maybe even play a game, for old time’s sake.”

The mere mention of a game makes you want to run away, to lock yourself in the restroom and refuse to come out. It has to be intentional; he has to know what kinds of things would be running through your head, after everything you’d gone through. You take a long gulp of the champagne, nearly done with the entire glass in one go. You can't let him get to you like this. You do your best to look unbothered.

“Do you walk around with ddakji tiles everywhere?” you ask. “Just in case you find someone who wants to play?”

That earns a soft laugh out of him. “No, not ddakji.”

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out what looks like a standard deck of cards.

“Have you ever played blackjack?”

You have, but hesitation is written all over your features. “What if I don't want to play?”

“Do you think I’d force you?” he asks, like you're a fool for even thinking so. “Like I said, you were never forced to do anything. It's your choice.” He sips his own champagne in a much classier, more contained way than you. Like he's happy to draw this out for hours, rather than wanting this night to be over as soon as possible. “But you’ve beaten much harder games before. This should be nothing for our big victor, right?”

There's a challenge in his voice, in his eyes. You should know better than to fall for it. So why is there a part of you that still feels like you have a point to prove? That feels like, with a little bit of luck and skill, you can finally beat this man at his own game?

“Fine.” You cross your arms over the table. “Let’s do this.”

Pleased with your answer, he shuffles the cards in his hands. You watch him, almost as mesmerized as you’d been watching him play ddakji at the subway station. It's so hard not to get lost in it, but you refuse to look away in shyness and hesitation again, keeping your eyes on him as you sip the rest of the champagne in your glass.

He refills it before placing four cards on the table: two facing upwards for you, one face-down and one face-up for himself, the dealer.

The rules are simple: your cards all together need to get as close to 21 without going over. Whichever one of you gets the closest wins the round. You have a nine and a four, totaling thirteen. The Salesman has a five, and a card that's invisible for you. 

“Hit me,” you say, figuring your odds can't be too bad.

He places one more card to your pile: a seven. Twenty in total. Your heart speeds up inside your chest, already triumphant even before the end.

He reveals all his cards to you: the five you’ve already seen, a nine, and a three. Seventeen. Your smile widens, relief washing over you like you’d just escaped a near-death experience. You don't think beating a game, no matter the kind, will ever not feel like this again.

“Not bad,” he compliments. He reaches into another pocket for his wallet, drawing a hundred euro note and pushing it towards you on the table.

You just stare at it with an eyebrow raised, baffled and, frankly, a bit offended. With the tip of your index finger, you push the bill back to him.

“Do you really think I still need your money?”

“It's just symbolic,” he argues, but still tucks the money back into his wallet. “Of course, we can bet on other things too, if you’d prefer.”

“What kind of things?”

“Whatever you want. You won.”

“Whatever I want?” A grin stretches across your lips as you lean forward on the table. “Like a dare?”

He leans forward as well, like he wants to meet you in the middle. His eyes never leave yours. “Like a dare.”

You wonder just how far he’d take this game, if he would do something outrageous or serious just because you told him to. Maybe not. But even this is the kind of power that you never, ever imagined you would have over this man.

“Okay. Let me see your wallet.”

He hands it over without a fight. You rummage through all of it, ignoring all the cash and instead looking for something else, anything personal. But there's nothing. No family photos, no old receipts, not even a condom tucked inside one of the pockets. At last you find his ID license, the name Park Ha-Joon listed beside a smiling picture of him that looks so normal you almost want to laugh.

“It's not your real name, is it?”

He smiles. “Smart girl.”

“It was worth a shot.” You close the wallet and hand it back to him.

He shuffles the cards, hands them over again. Seven and six. You tap the cards in a sign for him to hit you with one more.

“Do you really want to know why I came to see you?”

Your eyes snap in his direction, not even looking at the new card that’s placed in front of you. 

“I thought you’d be one of the first to die in a place like that.” He looks focused on the game as he talks, “When I found out you were the winner, I wanted to see it for myself.”

Your throat tightens, making it hard to draw in my next breath. You look around yourself, as if trying to make sure you're really here and not at that disturbing colorful scenario, or at the bunk beds in the dorm. Still the piano bar. Warm lights, soft chatter of conversation, piano notes ringing through the air. The mental image of that place still doesn't vanish from your mind.

“See what, exactly?” you ask, even though you know it would be better not to.  

“If you truly earned it, or if you’re just one more piece of trash who got lucky, like all the others before you.”

Your hand must twitch, an involuntary movement you're not even aware of, and the Salesman places another card to your pile. You look down at it in horror, realizing all the cards together total to twenty-three.

“I didn't say hit me,” you protest.

“You tapped. You know that's the sign.” He looks over the cards again, as if just noticing the source of your distress instead of directly causing it. “Too bad.”

It's not fair, and you both know it, but you doubt pointing it out will make a difference. You bite your tongue around any words as well as the lump that's formed in your throat, tears trying to rush to the surface. Your gaze meets his and holds it.

“Are you going to slap me?”

He’s still for a moment, considering it. It's one thing to hit you in the face in a mostly-empty subway station late at night, and another entirely to do it in this sophisticated bar, with all these people around as witnesses. Still, you don't doubt that he would do it. You hold yourself back from flinching when his hand comes out, bracing yourself for the impact.

It never comes. Instead, his hands merely cup your cheeks, tilting your face to face him fully. He looks at you like he's studying you, his expression unreadable.

“Not now. I want something else,” he says. “A round of shots.”

His grip on your face is firm, but he runs the pad of his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone, like wiping away a teardrop that never fell. A gesture that can only be described as affectionate, and it's messing with your head way more than the slaps on the face did.

You nod.

He holds on for just a second too long before he lets you go. He orders the shots to the waiter – you pay no attention to the brand, or even the type of booze –, and you don't say another word until after they're placed in front of you on the table, small glasses so clean they gleam under the light.

“I crawled my way out of that hell,” you tell him. “You have no idea what I had to do to survive. You don't get to sit here and tell me I didn't fucking earn it.”

He looks more amused than anything. “To kill for necessity, anyone can do. It doesn't make you as special as you think it does.” He nods towards the shot on the table, reaching for his own. “Drink.”

You count one, two, three in your head before throwing the shot back, unable to suppress a grimace when the drink comes down your throat like liquid fire.

“Why do you wanna get me drunk so bad?”

He empties his shot glass as well. “Drinking together ensures none of us has an advantage.” He picks up the deck of cards again, before you ever have the chance to tell him you’ve had enough of this game. The words die down in your throat.

One more round. Your cards add up to seventeen.

It’s too risky to ask for one more card; anything higher than four would mean an instant loss. Only then you notice the sweat under your palms, the rush in your ears overpowering the piano music in the background. You force yourself to take a deep breath, to remember that your life is not on the line anymore and losing doesn't mean certain death, even though it feels like it.

He reveals his cards. Eighteen.

“Fuck.”

He seems pleased with himself, accessing you as you brace yourself for whatever he has in mind for you now.

“Come a little closer,” he orders.

You frown, but you find yourself obeying without much questioning, getting up from your chair to slide to the seat next to him on the booth.

He pours you both more Dom Pérignon, and this time he doesn't have to tell you to drink. You focus on the way the bubbles dance inside your mouth, if only to have something to distract yourself from his proximity, from the faint smell of his cologne or from the fact he still hasn't told you what he wants from you for losing this round

His hand lands on your thigh.

You jump in surprise, and his hand tightens its grip there, digging into your skin and keeping you in your seat. Your eyes widen and search for his, a question clear in them.

With his free hand, the Salesman pushes the cards in your direction. “You’ll be the dealer now,” he says, “and for each time you lose, I get to keep my hands on you for one more round.”

Say no, you tell yourself. Say something. A better, stronger woman would throw the champagne in the glass on his face and walk right out of this bar. Instead, you find yourself still as a statue, a sudden rush of warmth overflowing your senses – first, it rises to your face, coloring your cheeks red, then it travels lower to the pit of your stomach and down right into the space between your legs.

You can’t even tell if it’s the alcohol, spreading through your bloodstream and bringing a buzzing sensation to your head that’s not all unpleasant, or the fact you haven’t been touched like this in what feels like forever, or simply the man sitting next to you. How many times had you fantasized about this, until you realized that he was the catalyst of your ruin?

Maybe even a few times after that.

You take the deck of cards. He grins like he knew you would, like a master pleased with a dog following his command. You want to wipe that look off his face, but you can barely concentrate enough to properly shuffle the cards.

If you felt like you were fighting for your life before, it’s nothing compared to right now. The hand doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as twitch until the very final moments of the round, when you realize the two of you are tied. A fingertip slides up the fabric of your stockings until it stops at your knee, your skin erupting in goosebumps following the movement. Your heart beats so hard inside your chest you can barely hear the chatter of people around you as the bar fills in with people.

You lose the next round, and the next, and the one after that. You can’t even tell if you’re doing it on purpose anymore.

With each passing minute that you don’t push him away, that you allow him to test and cross your boundaries, he gets more daring, drawing shapes in the perimeter of your leg and curling into your inner thigh. Your chest rises with a breath that comes tumbling out, the sound of it way too close to a whimper for your liking.

You can tell he notices it instantly, observant and apparently fluent in your body language like he’s spent years of his life studying it. He takes the opportunity to let his hand wander under your skirt, to the spots it hadn’t covered yet.

That’s enough. You need to win this next round.

It’s like, for once, God listens to your prayers. Your cards add up to an even, perfect twenty-one to his nineteen.

He retrieves his hand as if on cue. You thought you would be gasping in relief, but what comes out instead is a pitiful, almost desperate don’t.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t as in stop?” he asks. “Or as in don���t stop?”

Your body answers the question for him before your mind can even process what happened, grabbing his hand and pulling it to the spot where it was. Your skin comes ablaze the second he touches you again, like his touch is charged with electricity.

“Did you know,” you can feel his breath so close to you when he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “that you were the first person who ever challenged me to play ddakji at the subway? Usually it’s the other way around. Nobody but you ever made the first move.”

It’s hard to concentrate on his words like this, with his body leaning into yours and his hand that still touches you under the table and– whoa, that is not your thigh. The solid press against your core makes your whole body twitch, but you don’t jerk away. You try to focus on the memory.

“I didn’t give a fuck about the game,” you reveal. “I just wanted you to notice me.”

“I know.” He draws small, precise circles over you. “Do you ever think about how I would’ve left you alone otherwise?”

Of course you do, more than you would ever admit. But having him confirm it hurts. It’s bad enough to know you’re the one who caused all the trauma you’ve been through since meeting him, that you could’ve just carried on with your life, shitty as it as, if only you weren’t a foolish girl with a crush on a stranger. But to be in his arms right now, your head falling over his shoulder and your lips releasing a tiny whimper; it just makes it all the more fucked up.

“Was it worth it?”

The smile on your lips is devoid of any humor. “Never.”

“Let me prove to you that it was.”

Just like that, everything stops. He scoots away from you in the booth and stands up, bringing all the heat with him aside from the faint lingering warmth on your face. He leaves a few bills over the table, enough for the entire tab, and walks away.

He doesn’t head towards the front door, instead making his way to the opposite direction. You watch him, confused, for a few moments before you trail after him, past the kitchen and the restrooms until you see the red glow of an exit sign.

A chilly breeze rushes over you the second you step outside, and you expect to see him walking into the dark narrow street. But he’s waiting for you, leaning against the brick wall behind him. He raises his eyebrows in that same condescending way he’s done all night, daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate for even a second longer. You grab a fistful of his impeccable suit jacket and pull him closer, crashing your lips together.

From the start, it’s not sweet or gentle. He digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise, wasting no time before he lifts you up into the air and pins you against the wall. You gasp into his mouth, parting your lips and practically begging his tongue inside. Your legs part almost in unison, allowing him to settle between them and effectively trap you, his larger frame blocking any exit.

As if you would dream to get away.

In one swift movement, he reaches between your legs and rips at the fabric of your stockings, the sound echoing through the empty street. You’re already making quick work of his belt; or trying to, frustrated by your lack of mobility from his position. He doesn’t seem willing to let you go, so he does it himself instead, pulling his pants down just enough to free himself from the confines of his underwear.

You’ve soaked through your panties in whatever time it took to play all those rounds of blackjack. It felt like it was drawn-out for hours, but you know it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes. He moans when he feels it, before he even pushes into you – a heavenly, otherworldly sound, one you want to hear again and again. You push your hips towards him, feeling yourself throb when he rubs his length over you, burning hot where skin meets even though everything around you is cold. He rewards you with another sound that you drink right in as you deepen the kiss, happy to never have your lips separate from each other ever again.

He pushes the fabric of your panties to the side and thrusts into you without a warning, drawing a strangled, sharp gasp from you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to the invasion, setting up a punishing pace that pushes you against the wall hard with every thrust. You claw at his back, losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, helpless to stop it as he all but consumes you like this is his last chance to.

“Ah– fuck,” you have to break away from his lips to attempt to draw in some air, your breaths and sounds interrupted by the rhythmic, vicious snaps of his hips into yours. He takes the opportunity to tilt his head and follow the line of your jaw with his lips, to mouth kisses and graze his teeth over your throat.

Hands find their way under pieces of clothing, trying to cling to as much bare skin as they can. He does most of the work, still holding you up in the air with the help of the wall (you curl your toes just to test the waters, the ones on the foot closest to the ground, and they barely touch the pavement), bouncing you on his cock however he sees fit, and it’s embarrassing how close you are already just from this.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

It’s intoxicating how vocal he is, all the grunts and moans he breathes into your neck, how it rips more sounds out of you than you would usually make. The street is completely silent save for the two of you, not another soul in sight. You could kill him right here and he would never see it coming. Gut him with the knife tucked away in your purse, leave him on the pavement gasping for his last breath. Who would catch you? You have enough money to run to yet another country, to give yourself a new identity and reinvent yourself as many times as you want.

The purse is on the floor where you’d carelessly let it fall, out of reach. Still you run your hands down over his bottom, feeling for any guns or weapons he may have tucked into the back of his waistband, or hidden in his pockets. There’s nothing, but you don’t have a lot of time to be disappointed about it before you’re coming with a high-pitched, broken shout, like your orgasm has taken you by surprise. He holds you up, squeezing you against the wall for support, the only thing stopping you from falling straight to the floor.

The Salesman follows right after, a stream of goods and fucks and your name falling from his lips as he spills deep into you. You wish you had it in you to be offended, to tell him off for it. But all you can think about is how much you wish you knew his name so you could shout it, gasp it, whisper it, for as long as he keeps holding you this tight.

[fictionfixations]

THIS

ive been both the person in the audience who reads plenty of fics that follow similar ideas of so and so because i really like that idea and i like reading people's versions of it

and also the person who can get tired of so many fics following that type of idea

but you know what i do when that happens? i just. dont read???? it doesnt change anything and then i come back in a few months or something to read the new ones and maybe reread old ones

people enjoy what they enjoy, if they dont enjoy it then it doesnt impact their reading experience at all to look at other fics

and fanfiction itself is creations made by fans for the fans, it can be self-indulgent as hell and ooc but yknow what? the author probably had fun making it, and there are readers who'll have fun reading it, so whats the problem with people just doing what they like?? like we're not professionals who need to make it super unique and something that stands out because this isn't a job we're just having fun 💀

like there are certainly aus and stuff that are popular but i mean all the better theres a lot more content to consume

and you know what i do when i run into an idea that i really like in a fic? man i wish there were more

like id rather it be 'oversaturated' then not at all cause youre just gonna catch me roaming the tags often rereading the same old fics that share a similar concept or idea otherwise 😭

also actually if this is referring more to the very numerous amount of works in some fandoms and claiming its oversaturated because there are so many.. dude i cannot express the disappointment i feel when i look at a fandom tag of something im really interested in and just see a pitiful amount of works like noo where are my like-minded people who maybe idk wanna all change something that happened in canon or tooth-rotting fluff because we're all crying from the angst or etc💀💀 (usually thats a sign to write it yourself tbh)

ok, because i just saw a terrible take, i feel compelled to say that there is no "fic market" to "oversaturate" in fandom. good gravy.

[luckykiwiii101]

“SPOTTED: ANONYMOUS F*CKERS LOSING SOMETHING NOBODY KNEW THEY EVEN HAD…THEIR COMMON SENSE.”

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

ﾟ blah blah blahhhh ࿐

Hey Upper East Siders.

Pardon me for the time I took to write this, but I wasn’t sure whether to write a gossip post, or a eulogy, for some people’s common sense, that is.

Want to hear a story? Once upon a time, Mary had a little lamb, then the lamb grew up, gave birth, and that explains some people on this app. They follow each other, like sheep, one by one.

and that’s exactly what some of you are doing.

But when there’s so much smoke, who cares if there’s fire? Liars, Liars, Liars. I’m running out of fingers here, there’s too many to count!

But who’s talking? Oh wait, the lack of belief some people have in themselves. Like the great gossip girl I am, I decided to open my inbox to answer some pending success stories that have been sent to me. Instead, one anon said “slit your wrists”. I don’t usually like being told how to do things but if you’re going to tell me to do something, at least give me a physical demonstration. Maybe a…tutorial? Funny that you give me advice in a field you’re so specialised in…at least we have one thing in common. Someone give this one a pay rise. Since everything else in their life seems to be at an all time low.

As usual, it doesn’t end there. Another desperate lower east sider sent me: “You write things to yourself in your anonymous messages, come on, they're already realizing it.” Darling, just because you would, doesn’t mean I would. My blog runs on authenticity, not so-called tumblr “fame”. But of course, that’s just one concept your head’s too thick to wrap around.

Anyway, let’s move onto the bigger picture here. But…you might want to wear a gas mask. I’m afraid there are too many pants on fire! Allegedly. I’m sorry, that wasn’t clear? Let me say it again. Allegedly. Maybe if you listened as much as you’d spoke, you’d hear me, and I wouldn’t have to say it again.

It’s funny to say, but usually I’M the one gossiping, not the one gossiped about. But somehow, people have magically found a way to drag me through the dirt. No that’s not a tear in my eye, it’s disappointment. Disappointment that Mary’s little lamb turned out to be the mother of such…fuckers. Motherfuckers.

But back to the point, just found it flying right over your head. Listen closely so it doesn’t happen again. SPOTTED: A few lower east siders attempting to create their own little success story debunking club. They’re running in…circles? If there’s two things we know about circles, it’s that one, they are pointless (literally), and two, running in them, gets you nowhere (also literally).

Unluckily for them, a conclusion is something they’ll never come to, but to picture proof? They might just.

Picking and choosing which success stories are fake, and then asking them to send picture proof when you don’t believe? Please, there’s only so much laughs the upper east side can hold. Since your common sense seems to be searching for the divorce papers, i’ll break it down for you. Nobody owes you picture proof of their manifestations. But just like the many previous and countless times, people would just find a way to accuse them of getting their photos/videos on Pinterest, or the good old photoshop. Well I know a shop where you can’t buy photos, and it’s called your imagination, and when you use it, not only do you find your common sense in there, but you also get exactly what you want. Not such a difficult concept to grasp is it? Keep talking and i’ll see your head peeking over the empire state building soon enough.

Now once again, onto the next idiotic attempted claim. “These success stories have such similar desires”. Oh i’m sorry? But we live in a generation full of trends. And with trends come followers. And we call those followers sheep. I’ve counted sheep so many times so far, I might just fall asleep. This might sound crazy but…people get inspired…wait for it…by other people’s…don’t scream just yet…IDEAS! I know, it’s hard to believe. Crazy right.

But in my lovely consideration of not hurting your ego, I do acknowledge the rare valid points some of you’ve made. Like bloggers suddenly having each others accounts. Like bloggers saying they’ve manifested their dream lives, yet still staying on tumblr to argue with anons who call them liars. That doesn’t really make sense, honestly, even to me. But what gets me is the idea of picking and choosing certain success stories that have common desires, similar “typing” styles, and not enough enthusiasm. Apparently that’s the criteria you need to meet, in order to have a “fake success story”…Who the actual fuck are you to decide what’s not enthusiastic enough? So just because someone’s success story doesn’t sound like how you imagine your own to turn out, therefore it’s fake? If someone isn’t freaking out and smashing their keyboard whilst writing their success story then it’s fake? Are you fucking dumb? Let me answer that for you, first of all yes, you are fucking dumb. Second of all, you look for YOUR idea of success in THEIR success stories, so when you don’t see your ideal version of success, and your ideal reaction to success, you immediately assume it’s fake, because you cannot relate to it because “it’s not how you would react or what you would manifest”. Because your dumb fucking arse cannot comprehend the world beyond your own perception. Why? Because you’re a fucking dumbarse.

Call me crazy, but if one word comes to mind, it’s projection. And yes there are liars here and there, but the struggle to believe in others successes is just the struggle to believe in yourself. If you were reading those success stories from your mansion, with your desired appearance, in your desired city, with everything you could possibly want, reading other people’s success stories wouldn’t be so difficult would it. Why? Because humans learn from experience. But some of them are just too ignorant to consider, that with every person, comes a different experience. “Oh I didn’t succeed, therefore there’s no way they could have, they’re lying!!!!” Poor babies, may I ask where this desire to look for inconsistencies in success stories came from? I think we ALL know…it’s pretty easy to disbelieve in something that you believe you can never have. What was that word again…projection.

Yet again, I can’t believe I have to remind you that it’s not you against the world. Nobody is out to get you. Loablr is not some plot to make you believe in something that isn’t real. I don’t know what level of delusion that takes but usually it’s enough to put you in a straight jacket. Get off the app and touch grass. No one will notice if you leave, trust me. But in all fairness, I’ve read a few success stories that have seemed ingenuine to me. But do I have proof of that? No. So do I make a blog “calling them out” when I have no way of 100% knowing that, or do I move on with my life and focus on my own successes instead of their alleged fake ones? You think it hasn’t occurred to people that other people could be lying? If you think otherwise, boy have I got news for you. And most IMPORTANTLY, like I said before, YOU cannot define what ingenuine is, because YOU cannot predict other people’s reactions, nor can you see them from behind their screens. And since some of you are so obsessed with “real life” proof, you still decide to ignore success stories OUTSIDE of tumblr. Especially, Celebrity success stories. So CLEARLY there’s not much we can do for you here. You claim to believe in the law of assumption, then go and fucking apply it, instead of thinking you have some valid point to “prove”. You’re not as “woke” as you think you are. I don’t care if you can’t control your suspicions of others, i’m not telling you to stop feeling suspicious, but it’s the way you go about it that matters. And the way some of you do it, is disgusting.

If there’s anyone who is currently reading this who has lied about any successes whatsoever, you’re pathetic. And I hope you feel ashamed. And yes, no one actually knows who you are, but that’s not where the consequence lies honey, the consequence lies in the fact that you don’t have anything you want. Think about that for a second. Bitch. Instead of louboutin red bottoms, you literally have a red bottom. Don’t break your knuckles trying to get the extinguisher out.

Anyway. There’s so much more I could say about how unfathomably stupid some of you are but if I were to, then I’d be here all day. So i’ll leave it at that. And keep in mind, when I don’t reply to you, or when I block you, it’s not because i’ve got nothing to say or that i’m “defeated”, it just means that you are not worth my time and that i’ve probably already made a point that yet again flew over your head that you therefore missed.

As if some of you haven’t embarrassed yourselves enough already, you’ve decided to dig your holes even deeper. Maybe a little too deep. I think i’m starting to feel the earth’s core, maybe the heat wasn’t coming from the liars fiery pants after all…

I guess success is just harder for you to believe when your self concept is buried almost as low as you, when you debunk, insult, and argue yourself to death. Ofcourse someone who’s so used to failing sees nothing but failure. Can I even blame you? You know who you are. Pathetic.

- gossip girl

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

[cakesexuality]

I've been disabled for almost 29 years. Here's what I've learned.

Tablets sink and capsules float. Separate out your tablets and capsules when you go to take them. Tip your head down when taking capsules and up when taking tablets. Liquigels don't matter, they kinda stay in the middle of whatever liquid is in your mouth.

If your pill tastes bad, coat it with a bit of butter or margarine. I learned this from my mom, who learned it from a pharmacist.

Being in pain every day isn't normal. Average people experience pain during exceptional moments, like when they stub their toe or jam their finger in a door, not when they sit cross-legged.

Make a medical binder. Make multiple medical binders. I have a small one that comes with me to appointments and two big ones that stay at home, one with old stuff and one with more recent stuff.

Find your icons. Some of mine include Daya Betty (drag queen with diabetes), Stef Sanjati (influencer with Waardenburg syndrome and ADHD), and Hank Green (guy with ulcerative colitis who... does a bunch of stuff). They don't have to be disabled in the same way as you. They don't even have to be real people. Put their pictures up somewhere if you want; I've been meaning to decorate my medical binders with pictures of my icons.

Take a bin, box, bag, basket, whatever and fill it with items to cope with. This can be stuff for mentally coping like colouring books or play clay or stuff for physically coping like pain medicine or physio tape.

Decorate your shit! My cane for at home has a plushie backpack clip hanging from the end of the handle and my cane for going places is covered in stickers. All of my medical binders have fun scrapbooking paper on the outside. Sometimes, I put stickers and washi tape on my inhalers and pill bottles. I used my Cricut to decorate my coping bin with quotes from my icons, like "I've seen enough of Ba Sing Se" and "I need you to be angrier with that bell".

If a flare-up is making you unable to eat or keep food down, consider going to the ER. A pharmacist once told me that since my eye flares can make me so nauseous that I cannot eat, then I need to go to the hospital when that happens.

Cola works wonders for nausea. I have mini cans of Diet Pepsi in my coping bin.

Shortbread is one of the only things I can eat when nauseous. Giant Tiger sells individually-wrapped servings of shortbread around Christmas or the British import store sells them year-round. I also keep these in my coping bin.

Unless it violates a pain contract or something, don't be afraid to go behind your doctor's back to get something they are refusing you. I got my cardiologist referral by getting in with a different NP at my primary care clinic than who I usually saw. I switched from Seroquel to Abilify by visiting a walk-in.

If you have a condition affecting your abdomen in some way (GI issues, reproductive problems, y'know) then invest in track pants that are too big. I bought some for my laparoscopy over a year ago and they've been handy for pelvic pain days, too. I've also heard loose pants are good for after colonoscopies.

Do whatever works, even if it's weird. I've sat on the floor of the Eaton Centre to take my pills. I've shoved heating pads down my front waistband to reach my uterus.

High-top Converse are good for weak ankles. I almost exclusively wear them.

You can reuse your pill bottles for stuff. I use my jumbo ones to store makeup sponges and my long skinny ones to hold a travel-size amount of Q-Tips.

Just because your diagnostics come back with nothing, it doesn't mean nothing is wrong. Maybe you were checking the wrong thing, or the diagnostic tool wasn't sensitive enough. I have bradycardia episodes even though multiple cardiac tests caught nothing. I probably have endometriosis even though my gynecologist didn't see anything.

You can bring your comfort item to appointments, and it's generally a green flag when someone talks to you about it. I brought a Squishmallow turkey (named Ulana) to my laparoscopy and they had her wearing my mask when I woke up. I brought a Build-A-Bear cat (named Blinx) to another procedure and a nurse told me that everyone in the hall on the way to the procedure room saw him and were talking about how cute he was. Both of those ended up being positive experiences and every person who talked to me about my plushies was nice to me. If you don't feel comfortable having it visible to your provider during the appointment, you can hide it in your bag and just know it's there, or if you're in a video appointment, you can hold it below frame in your lap.

Get a small bucket, fill it with stuff, and stick it in your bed (if you have room for it). I filled a bucket with Ensure, juice boxes, oatmeal bars, lotion, my rescue inhaler, etc. in October 2023 in anticipation of my laparoscopy and I still have it in my bed as of January 2025.

If your disability impacts your impulse control (e.g. ADHD, bipolar disorder), you should consider setting limits around your spending -- no more than X dollars at a time, nothing online unless it's absolutely necessary, and so on. Or, run these purchases by someone you trust before committing to them; I use my BFF groupchat to help talk sense into myself when I buy stuff.

Feel free to add on what you've learned about disability!

[seulzitos]

i don't often talk abt these things when I'm not involved, but some of y'all don't deserve the right to have phone ngl, like wtf is happening can't we just post our little mbs and be happy ? and there's dumb drama abt smth so small. idk if y'all realized that these type of things are part of life and you don't always have to get involved, try to defend someone or another, start collectively "cyber bullying" some ppl for something you aren't sure yourself. I've seen hundreds of post talking abt this subject (defending, exposing, ect), what's your exact purpose ? if something happened between someone and another, it's between those people, why do some of y'all want to be involved so bad (I'm especially speaking abt what happened between dodo and chei and like I just said it was BETWEEN DODO AND CHEI, not marie or saarah or another idgaf) I get that you wanna help your friends but honestly if you really want to help them then don't make a whole scoop about it, that's really not how you solve things damn

I think some of the people here should maybe learn how to keep things to themselves and stop trying to defend themselves for something so stupid (and as a person who had a lot of problems with some old friends, did I every did smth like that ? no. and what happened after that ? I blocked them and forgot about everything and kept living my life, I'm not trying to take anyone's side but that whole is really going too far and maybe some of y'all should learn to move on and maybe touch some grass

[coastershells]

S T C H R I S T O P H E R

IN WHICH — dallas stumbles through your window , searching for some help desperately.

⚠️ : sexual talk , dallas tries , but fails.

not proofread as usual! / requested? yes : no

꩜ ◞ — wc : 1.5k div creds : enchanthings-a

when dallas came stumbling through your window , you expected many things. maybe an apology , a smirk , a dirty joke , a pickup line , the casual dallas , the silly yet stupid boyfriend you know.

instead , you were met with a dallas that was on the floor , shivering covered in snow , and he looked pretty much beat up.

you didn’t know what to say for a few seconds ; you were fidgeting with your bracelet a second ago , wondering when the snow would stop so you could go outside and play with it , or just touch it. snow is random around your area , so whenever it falls people are either playing or fighting in it. you just hope that the gang is responsible enough to be the ones playing in it.

it makes you worry about johnny.

“ dal? “ you question with a shaky voice , and he lets out a painful grunt. your stomach does a swirl and you hop off your bed , your bracelet going to the way back of your mind. “ dallas! “

“ hey sweetheart. “ he hisses out. and you quickly run to shush him , the window being half open let’s some snow fall in , and he scrunches his nose. “ fuckin’ hurts. “ he exhales , and you panic , hands hovering over his body.

“ dal — what happened?! shit , where’s the first aid?! “ you dash off and leave dallas , which probably wasn’t nice , but you can tell without even taking off that leather jacket he’s injured somewhere. bad.

you scramble to your bathroom and quickly check under the sink , to which you find your old trusty first aid. when you return to your room , dallas has put himself up against the wall by the window , and he seems to be shivering even more.

you rush to the window and close it , feeling the cold air yourself. you have so many questions to ask him but you have a gut feeling you’ll only get snarky replies or silence. dallas hasn’t ever came to you this beaten up , not ever. you see cuts on his face , but what really scares you is his hand gripping his side.

“ fuck. dallas — what did you do? “

“ you callin’ me that , it ain’t helping. you make me feel like i’m in trouble. “ he says through pained gasps.

“ you are in trouble. what were you doing in the snow in just a leather jacket? move your hand. “ you nudged it out of the way and he looked to the side , preparing for the worst. you moved his jacket then his messed up shirt , and he lets out a dry laugh while you are looking wide eyed at all the cuts in one spot specifically. “ what happened? what did you do? “ you ask , and you aren’t sure if you’re mad at him or genuinely trying to figure him out.

“ got roughed up real bad. “ he jolts when you place your hand below all the cuts. he looks down at you. “ s’pretty , doll. lemme just.. “ his arm lazily finds its way to your collarbone and trails down , and it’s a little too close for comfort.

“ hands off. you’re hurt. we can do that tomorrow. “ you sniff , and he shifts uncomfortably. you expected him to push more , but the shaking shows he probably doesn’t have the energy.

“ you’re an idiot , dal. it’s snowing and you go out to fight? do you know it’s fucking freezing? “ you pull his necklace , and you groans. he looks irritated.

“ never said i fought. “

“ so what , who did this to you then? “

he went silent yet again.

you don’t know why you tried.

“ socs. heard em talkin’ about you. “ he says , giving in. he still has that irritated look on his face , though.

you sighed , out of frustration and you still try to reason with him. “ dal , they will always talk about me. it’s fine. “

“ it ain’t if you’re my girl. ran em all off. straight out of our territory. “ he says as you open the first aid.

“ after i patch you up , you’re showering and we are going straight to sleep. “ you state and he looks your way.

“ you gonna shower with me? “

“ nope. already showered bud. i’ll wash your hair. you’re scrubbing yourself though. “

“ aren’t you just so kind. “ he mumbles and you press onto one of his cuts.

“ ow — fuck. i’m sorry , alright? jeez. “

dallas puts up a small fight when you bandage up his wounds , and a larger fight when he has to get undressed but you don’t. he asks why you can’t just shower with him , but you barley want him in your bed. not because he’s nasty or anything , but you’re afraid the blood will bleed through onto your sheets like last time he got roughed up.

“ how many? “ you ask.

“ what? “

“ how many guys were there? did you win? “

“ ‘course i won. you think these cuts for show? “ he points to his side , and you grumble. “ about four or five. snow made it hard to stand. “ he says as he relaxes into you scrubbing his head. “ that’s the spot. “

he jokes and you tap the side of his head.

“ i’ll knock your skull right out. why were you out there in the first place? “

“ was heading here. had a feeling you wouldn’t be sleep. you can never sleep without me. “

you give up on questions , because he’s right. and it’s a first. so instead of responding to that , you tell him to close his eyes tight and you put the showerhead right over him. he shivers , but relaxes right back in.

“ jokes on you , that’s helping with the cold. “ he laughs and you curse under your breath. “ asshole. “ you say louder than the rest.

“ baby , not to be rude , but can we speed this up? i’m already fighting urges to not pull you in here with me. “ he turns to you , and you look down. fuck. you look back up , and he’s smiling at you now. “ come on , just come in , sweetheart. i promise i won’t bite you. “

“ dal , it’s a no. don’t make me change my mind about this in the morning. “

he groans. “ i protect you from some socs and i can’t even get a kiss? “

“ you aren’t asking for just a kiss. “

“ it’s the same thing , just some.. extra steps. “

you turn off the shower and throw a towel at him , to which he takes and wraps around him and your grateful. something for him to keep his dick in thats not you.

“ fortunately for you , i don’t have any shirts that’ll fit you well , so you’re gonna have to go shirtless. “

dallas smiles as he follows you into your room and goes to your closet in search of any pants that might fit him. “ you say that like it’s a problem for me. “

you roll your eyes and look at the area he was sitting in. luckily , there’s no blood on your carpet. so you don’t have to be on your knees tomorrow. you pick up the first aid and place it on your dresser , you don’t care enough to go back to the bathroom.

you sigh as you hear his footsteps , yet you don’t try to turn around. you know what he’s going to do , and you think it out as he does it. he presses against you , and puts his now warm hands under your stomach , yet it still gives you goosebumps. “ done , baby. we sleeping now? “ you can hear a low hiss , and it makes you realize that his side still hurts.

“ sleep on that side instead. i don’t want you sleeping on your bad side. “ he puts his hands up jokingly and walks around your bed , you take that opportunity to quickly turn off the light before he gets onto the bed and pulls you in. you giggle , but let it happen.

“ love you s’much.. would’ve been better if.. “

you look at him. “ dallas winston. “

“ alright , fine. i give up. i won’t ask anymore until tomorrow. damn , woman. “

you laugh , a little louder than you should. and he playfully pinches your shoulder.

he wraps his arms around you tight , and finally gives you a kiss.

“ see? that’s what just a kiss is. you’re finally learnin’ dal! “

“ shut up , now. i need tomorrow to come quicker. “

“ you’re way too excited. “ you whisper as you blink lazily , and look outside to the yellow streetlight spilling into your room , it highlights the snow falling , and you wonder how much of the ground it’ll cover.

you swear you see a blood trail , but you might be imagining it.

uuuugh i have to go back to school this sucks now i can’t think about matt dillon all day!!! fudge!! (teehee if u wanna be added to the list below lmk)

taglist : @every1hatesmayaa , @mrsdillonx , @r0seb100d !!

[lara635kookie]

Unpopular opinions on Caleb:

Okay, I'm going to be honest here:I don't see Caleb as a love interest. I see him as our adoptive older brother. In some voiceovers, he's referred as such. Just a disclaimer here:If you like him romantically, I'm not judging you. I'm just expressing my opinion to whoever might share it, but if you don't, I respect it.

Some might argue that "older person of family" are words that korean/japanese/chinese people just use to show respect, and I know this. Like korean has "oppa" and I don't know the chinese/japanese counterpart. And that I understand. However, they were RAISED TOGETHER. By the SAME PERSON. In the same HOUSEHOLD. Same ENVIRONMENT. Even if they are not biologically related, they were raised like it. That's why the childhood friends to lovers works for Zayne. He was raised by a different family.

Some people might argue that it was like a "living in the same orphanage type of thing", which would make sense if they lived in an actual orphanage, who has a completely different structure. You see way more than just two kids in one, and you don't see them calling the person who takes care of them "grandma". They both considered and called Josephine "grandma" even knowing they were not related by blood to her. Implying they both consider themselves her grandchildren. Even if it's just a form of respect in Asia calling her grandma, they still acted like siblings being raised by their grandmother. I'm sorry but Josephine clearly adopted them. If it was an orphanage kind of scenario, they would look forward to being adopted by a family, and they both seemed very in home with Josephine. And even if they weren't adopted, if it was an orphanage, as they are both adults, they would both have to leave. Don't be fooled by some movies or series, usually the kids in orphanages don't develop the kind of bond Caleb and MC had with Josephine.

We don't have many details about their adoption. I've always imagined it was legal, Josephine had the documents signed and such because I imagine she just can't get two kids and get them home. Even if she was involved in shady stuff in the past, considering Zayne's family knew about her and Caleb, and they were close, it doesn't seem like Josephine was trying to hide them. What might kinda justify to me Caleb being a li is maybe she didn't have their permanent guard and now that they are both legal adults they don't need to see each other as brother and sister anymore according to the law and all documentation and traces of their childhood were erased in the explosion. But so far in the story, MC and Caleb acted like siblings, spoke to each other like siblings, teased each other like siblings, they had all the siblings' mannerisms. Their dynamic was way too sibling like, way too many brother and sister coded, that he just popped into my like the banter, the nicknames, etc. I immediately knew he was our older brother as soon as he opened his mouth. The game didn't have to mention it. It was just that obvious, I just assumed based on what they showed. The narrative and plotline just make it so clear. I was even "props to them for making adoptive siblings actually act like normal siblings"( I guess I said it too soon). So far, he was written like an adoptive older brother, and IT WORKED. He was an amazing brother, lol. I think they will probably pull off:The old Caleb, who was her brother, died. This new one changed his personality completely with everything that happened, and now he makes moves on MC. And MC will have to understand that "the sweet boy from her childhood" is gone and see him differently. But like...It's still the same person. Even if with a new personality. I know I'm not the only one who thinks that. They never showed romantic feelings for one another so far. So when I saw this trailer, I was like, "Where does that come from?". Making this transition just seems weird. Imagine them being married and telling people how they met: "We were raised by our grandma in the same house." I'm sorry, but to me, it is just awkward, even though it's legal in theory.

Even if the adoption is undone, they can't change the past. Grandma Josephine dying doesn't change the fact that they were raised, even if not as siblings, as members of the same family. The fact that is by adoption and not by blood, doesn't make it any less real. Adoptive siblings are not less siblings than biological ones. I just hate those kinds of situation, that sadly seem to be increasing their popularity nowadays(The Tearsmith, Culpa Mia/Tuya, etc) that two people become siblings by the circunstances and then fall in love and we are supposed to believe it's forbidden love but like... If you are justifying it with "they are not related by blood", then it's not actually forbidden. "Oh but they have to hide it for their family not to find out" they hide it for a short while, the family finds out, opposes to it for like five seconds and then they end up together somehow in the end. In that case, Josephine died before she could find out, but you got it. And those people are usually the same people that go like:"blood doesn't matter, family is who loves and cares about you and raised you to be the person you are" when it's about couples from the lgbtqiapn+ community or even straight couples when one of them is infertile and adopt children. So what's their point? Do they believe on adoption or not? Those people only believe adoption when it's convenient to them. How is this any different? Those people are basically saying:"Your adoptive siblings are not your real siblings, because adoption means nothing and they are not a part of your real family, so even if you were raised together for years, it's not incest if you hook up with them."

I don't remember what was said about Josephine not wanting kids, or not being good with kids, but she seemingly raised Caleb and MC very well, so that probably changed as she grew older.

Back to Caleb, even as a character...The only unique feature he has is his mechanic arm, that I found really interesting, not just because for inclusivity/diversity/representation but also because it passes a cyborg vibe that just makes sense for a futuristic story, like Alita Battle Angel, for example, that I love. But that's on his physical appearence. Aside from that, in other physical features, and specially in personality, he just seems like a combination of all the other love interests. He kinda looks like Zayne and has the "same" trope as him, he's got a Sylus type of dark romance and kinda villain vibe and the same height as him(I know Caleb was a character before Sylus but he only became a li now, which makes it sound intentional, they could have made Sylus a little bit taller to avoid that, like 192cm or something), Rafayel's more "manipulative" side and eyes that look like his, and Xavier's freakiness and the fact that he also wears an uniform and also flies high, Xavier with spaceships and him with airplanes. I've also seen complaints about his voice, that I didn't like either, but I imagine it will get better with time.

Another thing, is this theory right here that someone commented on Instagram:

(Shout-out to this person because it just seems so obvious now, but I probably would have never thought of that on my own, lol)

The parallels between him and Zayne were pretty obvious, like a few also were with Sylus and Xavier. The thing is... So like, adding similarities to Zayne is understandable, because of this, but as I said, Caleb has a little bit of all the LIs. Which just make it seem like the devs made him to be a cheap copy made with the crumbs of the other LIs with no individuality at all. Which as it was proved with Sylus and Xavier, it could have been avoided, as both have white hair and both come from the same planet, and that's pretty much all they have in common. They should have added on Caleb similarities only to Zayne, because adding to the others to makes it seem like they were desperate to make everyone like him for them to forget that the questionable things I listed that make him a brother, but to me, personally, it had the opposite effect. It just made me like the others even more. And just makes Caleb seem kinda forgettable, since he has no features only he has, that make him stand out from the rest. His personality will probably be more revealed with time, but still, that's not a great start.

The conclusion with this is that I won't stop playing the game or hate on it, I'll just ignore the Caleb romantic content as much as possible and just keep seeing him as a character who is important aa he is MC's adoptive older brother who just came back from the dead somehow, which is what the people who are unsatisfied, like me, should be doing, because hating on it won't change anything. You can share your opinions, like I'm doing, but please do it respectfully. For all the reasons I've mentioned, I don't dislike Caleb, I just feel indifferent to him as a love interest, I still acknowledge him as a well written brother and a good character overall. But if you dislike him, and any other love interest at all, for that matter, there's no point in hating on it, just pretend he's not there. There are other four love interests, I'm sure one of them has catch your eye so just focus on them(this part is a message specifically for some people I've saw attacking the Caleb girlies). Let's just respect each others views.

[heleninhha]

TRAPPED IN SHADOWS | PROLOGUE/EN

I'm bout as broken as I confess but better than most that lay cower STFD, by TeZATalks

Romantic partner: Azriel (ACOTAR) Summary: When the Winter Solstice arrives, she knows it will be her worst moment, especially when those memories swallow her up like a bathtub full of ice. Approximate reading time: 10min Words: 1,9k Warnings: Slightly angsty, with a bit of cuteness in between and some signs of possible triggers. NOTE: I just want to protect her in a little pot and tell everyone to fuck off, honestly.

PROLOGUE: Winter Solstice Masterlist | Serieslist | Next chapter

Centuries before…

"You look decent."

"Darling!"

"For someone who runs out of the window all the time, that is some etiquette."

The Illyrian sighed, mentally apologizing as she turned her gaze back to her daughter. It wasn't decent, it was an insult, both to the child and to the maids who had helped her get ready. She was too young to notice the pure contempt dripping from another's lips, but the eyes glistening with trapped tears were enough to understand.

Alayna smiled weakly and bent down to fix the ribbon in the younger girl's hair.

"You look beautiful, my love," she said softly, hearing a discredited laugh at her back. "A real princess."

Leaving the women alone in the large room, the Grand Lord rolled his eyes before deciding to check the updates on the evening's festivities. Five seconds later, the satin curtains were swaying and the inviting breath of winter was hugging the bare calves of the girl.

"You ladies are late."

"Don't be rude. A lady is never late, the others are early."

Rhysand snorted, slightly annoyed.

"Of course, Mom."

The female smiled contentedly and called to her firstborn with her left arm outstretched, her eyes fixed on her daughter and any bad feelings she might be radiating. He obeyed, arranging his elegant silk outfit before kneeling before the youngest. His wings automatically circled the female.

"What's up, Blossom?"

Alayna pinched his hip and received a low whistle.

What have we been talking about?

It's a joke.

"Right, Blossom?" A raised eyebrow made him laugh.

"Okay, I surrender. You look beautiful, Dusk."

"Better," the older female hummed, resting her head on his shoulder. "And you, my dear? Do you think your brother looks handsome too?"

The child nodded, fingers squeezing the dress excitedly. Then she smiled, showing her teeth, and her eyes sparkled as the male messed with her hair, receiving another warning from the older woman.

She liked that, how it made her feel when she was with them. It was nice and cozy, like a fireplace on a snowy day.

"Rhysand!"

The girl laughed happily as she watched her favorite people in the world. When her father wasn't around to push her until she couldn't feel anything but anger and despair, she was always with her mother. When the eldest went to sew, the child gladly followed. When she went to pick fruit in the royal garden, she carried an old wooden basket. If she wanted to put on a pretty dress and make faces at people, she had the maids dress her like a porcelain doll.

It was easy for her to see that she would follow her mother into the darkest abyss. Maybe it was a dark thought for such a young fae, but it was one of the few things she was sure of. Well, that and the fact that her brother was incredibly conceited.

"Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it."

"That's not why my nerves are on edge…" The older woman bit her lower lip, her gaze distant. "Forget it. I know you'll make it, my dear."

"I'm the son of the Grand Lord of the Night, of course I can… hey, you brat."

Rhysand frowned at his sister, seeing a hard expression. All right, dangerous game; she could have been grinning like an idiot five seconds earlier, but one word to a high ego on the forbidden subject and the room would be in darkness. Or he'd have his ear pulled, as was happening at that moment.

"You're an annoying little thing," he whispered and turned away from the women before his mother cursed him an infinite number of times. "And we're late again."

"Who taught you to be so impertinent?"

"You did."

"Now, you…"

The boy left before his mother could catch him, passing the guards outside his sister's room. He walked with unusual class, nodding briefly to the younger girl's two confidants and whistling. A minute later, female voices embraced his acute hearing, bringing him to a halt just short of the wide, dark wooden doors that would lead him to hell.

Alayna sighed weakly at her son's side, partly out of breath from the short run, but even a blind man would recognize the true meaning of the oppressive sound. A contemptuous smile, shoulders straight and eyes ablaze, was all she could offer these poor people lost in a fog of lust and false hope.

"I want you to stay close to me," she said, taking Rhysand's hand in a gentle squeeze. "And don't even think of running away."

The girl cringed at the comment, though she felt it wasn't as contemptuous as her father's.

"I'm serious, my dear. You have my support whenever you want to spread your wings, but tonight... not tonight, okay?"

With a bang, the doors to the throne room were thrown open, and faes of all kinds stared at this strange yet powerful trio. One hair of the children of the Grand Lord's consort and the hall would be in pain and agony.

Rhysand felt his hand sweat, but he didn't flinch when he discreetly nudged his mother's back. Then she walked, holding her precious things as if her life depended on them.

The girl's eyes wandered around the room as she was led to the throne, where her father waited with a familiar scowl. Some stared back at her, looks of disgust and astonishment mixed with a strange, sweet smell in the air, while others didn't even give her a chance, choosing instead to watch their firstborn's every breath.

A few more steps brought the trio to their destination, and they all seemed to straighten up as Alayna whispered, her knee hitting the ground with a deafening thud:

"My Lord."

The crowd echoed in amazement and fear, and Rhysand followed in his mother's footsteps, choosing to lower his head and form a thin line with his lips before any nonsense could escape; this was no time for jokes. His sister, however, didn't seem to be thinking the same thing, or at all, for she looked like a frightened statue.

Kneel down, the boy thought, hoping she would get the message, but nothing happened. The girl didn't drop to the floor or give any sign of surrender, just stared into the emptiness of the room as if a ghost were haunting her.

A raised eyebrow, a tired sigh and a sudden tug brought her back to the moment of tension, and her mother mentally apologized as she straightened her knees on the cold floor of the hall.

"Stand up," the Grand Lord commanded.

In an instant, the trio had their backs straightened. Then the eldest stared at the youngest, a bad feeling filling him like cold water, and waved a hand dismissively.

Only when they reached the edge of the room did Alayna allow herself to let her guard down a little, sighing audibly as she leaned her head against the wall for a few seconds, just to get herself together for the rest of the party.

That would be a long night.

A few centuries later, but even before…

The night was still as the female tidied herself up, her lips parted as she tried to draw the outline of her eyes with the greasy black ink. Frankly, it was an almost impossible task, but she was determined to succeed.

"You look gorgeous, my dear."

She snorted a curse with her eyes fixed on the mirror, but she let Lucien know how much that made her want to laugh, because she looked anything but gorgeous.

He laughed as he felt the hairs on his arms stand up in the sudden air under his shirt.

"Think about it, you don't have to worry about your eyebrow at all."

"Just the mouth, right?"

"This is one thing we'll never be able to fix." He shrugged and popping his back as he got up from his friend's comfortable bed. "You've been at it for almost an hour, give it a rest."

She didn't bother to answer, choosing instead to stare at him in the mirror. If it hadn't been for the hideous mask, he would have seen his eyebrow arched in defiance.

"Don't you have some little children to torment?"

"I left it till next week." The fae laughed, her wings flapping in amusement. "You look like a dog wagging its tail.

Lucien was suddenly quiet, aware of the sour provocation. It wasn't a lie that he followed his Grand Lord until when he wasn't asked, but she always made it clear how much such things bothered her. Not that it was her problem; he was older, he was aware of his own attitudes, but he couldn't help but worry about his closest friend.

He was her confidant, her best companion in this shitty situation, so they could throw her to the wolves if someone was bothered by her concern.

"We'll be late if we keep arguing like this." He dodged the issue, running his fingers through his hair as he walked over to the female. "We don't want to disappoint your monstrosity."

A light laugh escaped her red lips. She liked it, how the male made her forget the darkness of the world — and her own.

"Just a second…"

Lucien snatched the pot of kohl from the dressing table and went for the brush in the girl's hand. If it hadn't been for his friend's ridiculous agility, he would have been able to steal it, but before he could blink, the fae was standing next to the closet mirror.

"You're a pain in the ass."

"You're a pain in the ass," she mimicked, pouting. "Just a second, Lulu."

He snorted and threw the container at the dark wood he'd picked it up from.

"So much stress…"

"And whose fault is it?!"

The fairy narrowed her eyes and lowered her right hand as she turned her wrist, shadows swallowing the brush and carrying it to the bowl of paint.

"Don't take your frustration out on me." The man sighed and returned to the bed. "Everyone is nervous, but don't push me.

"I know, I just..." With a sudden heaviness in his voice, his shoulders felt like they were made of lead. "I'm sorry, my dear."

Murmuring acceptance, the younger woman stared at her reflection in the mirror, the raven mask covering her face like a second skin, warm and sticky. She hated it, hated that Tamlin had convinced her to go along with this madness, but most of all she hated Amarantha.

That despicable being… One day she would kill her, and it would be painfully satisfying.

"Let's go before I give up on this shit."

Lucien laughed, some of the weight on his back disappearing.

"As if you had a choice."

"You play with life too much, Lulu."

She ran her hands down her black dress, the slit in her left leg revealing an ancient tattoo in a dead language. Then, with a confident nod, she smiled cruelly, feeling the venom seep through her pink lips; the embodiment of the Spring Court's bitch, completely separate from the dress code. If they made her a puppet, at least she'd have fun.

The male called to her, distracting her from the painful memories that threatened to take her away. An outstretched arm and kind eyes, a series of good deeds that made Lucien a complete gentleman. He could be a jerk in certain situations and extremely stupid when it came to his Grand Lord, but she would follow him to hell — or at least to that shitty party they were chained to.

"Let's parade a little, Greer."

Looking forward to it hehe Taglist: @lenasardn

[lazorbeanz]

Another continuation to my list of random thoughts and reactions to STH3

(Part 3🫠)

!spoilers ahead duh!

- NOOOOOOO TOM!!!! HE CANT BE DEAD!!! SHADOW DID NOT JUST KILL TOM (I was literally shaking AND oh was I on the brink of tears too aakdjsjsnjs)

- more parallels 😭

- omg the new suits looking like how they do in the games o yaaaaas

- uhm someone care to help eggman he looks like he’s having a seizure

- okay now I definitely feel bad for stone :(

- idk why but this part in the movie I could NOT stop rambling to myself about it

It was after the ambulance had driven away with tom and maddie

How Sonic was just filled with so much anger and hurt he was willing to break the promise he made with his team about not using the M.E

Knuckles ofc was fully against the idea as using the M.E could be too dangerous, especially using it for something like vengeance. Then also saying that Sonic is in no right to make any decisions esp in his emotional state

Because emotions (especially anger) can cloud your judgement. you’re not always thinking straight therefore leading to irrational decision making

And knuckles, always being known as the hothead, short tempered, sometimes leaping into battles with just fists and no brain. He of all people probably knows what happens when you make decisions based off your emotions

And iirc doesn’t the power of the Master Emerald (or the chaos emeralds) reflects (or is based of) the person’s heart? Having someone who is feeling a whole pile of negative emotions wield such power can have severe consequences (which I’m pretty sure has already been demonstrated)

But anyways Sonic couldn’t care at the moment, he was even fine with going solo if no one “had the guts” Hecc, he was even ready to throw hands with Knux just to win it over and I was like “oh shiz it’s gonna be STH2 all over again” cuz y’know they both got all charged up

But then Knuckles was reminded about the OTHER half of their promise…to trust each other, and he was going to make sure he kept that promise even if Sonic broke it on his end, even if Sonic chooses to go with what could be a very reckless choice. When knux swears a ✨sacred oath✨ he is bound to keep it regardless.

So he stands down and lets Sonic have his way

Idk did that not just scream maturity or character development to you?? Bc knux usually wouldn’t make a stretch like this esp with the M.E. Idk maybe I looked too far into it help

(Also I’m not in any way condemning Sonic for being the way he was…poor guy has been thru a lot from dealing with another hedgehog, to 2 eggmen, GUN, and now his “dying” father. He has every right to be pissed)

- oh is it who I think it is-

- OH MY GOSH WADE HAHAHAHA YESSSSS THE NEW FEARSOME GUARDIAN OF THE MASTER EMERALD ALL QUIVER BEFORE HIM

- BUDDY YOU DIDNT EVEN LOOK LIKE YOU TRIED-

- NAAAAA NO MORE SAD FLASHBACKS :(

- OH STUFF’S ABOUT TO GET REAL

- SUPER SHADOW ENTERED THE CHAT!!!!

- SONIC JUST PUNCHING SHADOW ACROSS THE WORLD DAAAAYYUUUUMM BROS ON A WHOLE NEW LEVEL OF VIOLENCE

🎶Brazil, Morocco, London to Ibiza-🎶 (shh it’s totally accurate)

- I’m crying WHAT IS THIS SORCERY

- SONIC SHED A TEAR I REPEAT SONIC SHED A TEAR I SAW IT

- ahh yes beautiful trauma bonding

- OMG OKAY ITS HAPPENING EVERYBODY STAY CALM

- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

- LIVE AND LEARRRRNNNNNN

- old people and insects…

- BANGER SCENE + BANGER SONG = PEAK CINEMA PT.2

- THEY DID THE THING!!!

- oop there goes eggman

- WAIT WHERE DID TAILS AND KNUCKLES COME FROM DID I MISS SOMETHING?

- lmfao Gerald gets his ass zapped by his grandson and then incinerated by pure chaos energy the karma is reallll but uhm rest in pepperonis ig

- THEY PISSED ON THE FREAKING MOOOOOOOON

- AAAAAHHHHH TAILS SEES HIS BIG BRO PLUMMETING TO HIS DOOM AND-

HES IN TEARS IM UNWELL

- YESSSS GO SAVE YOUR BUDDY!!!!

- sayonara Shadow the Hedgehog and Dr.Robotnik 🫡

- NOOOO TAILS LOSING CONSCIOUS YOU TRIED ITS OKAY

- YEEEAAAAHHHHH HERE COMES KNUCKLES TO SAVE BOTH HIS LIL BROTHERS!!!!! 💪💪💪

- TEAM HUG AWWWWW LETS GO

- DONUT LORD IS ALIIIIIVEEEE YESSSS

- MORE DOGGY TRANSLATIONS :D

yes ozzy u get all the loveeee

- YES WE GET THE REAL RACE THIS TIME TO TOP IT OFF

- I love this movie

- *proceeds to jam out to the credits*

- welcome to the SCU Amy 🩷 ALSO GURL UR SO PRETTY WOWZERS

- I need STH4 NOW

[yanderes-galore]

Since you're writing for Naruto again, how about romantic yandere Orochimaru concept?

Sure! Hopefully I understand his character correctly ^^ Hope you enjoy!

Yandere! Orochimaru Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Sadism, Manipulation, Human experimentation, Blood, Drugging/Poison, Kidnapping, Isolation, Murder, Biting, Forced "relationship".

Orochimaru is probably one of the scariest Naruto yanderes I can think of.

My main reasons why are his canon obsessive behavior, his ability to evade death, and his literal human experimentation.

Orochimaru, in my eyes, is a very unnerving villain.

His obsession is going to be in for one hell of a time because of his behavior.

He's a sadist who only ever wants to help himself.

There's a good chance if he's obsessed with you... His "love" isn't normal.

He only ever tracks people down to use them as vessels or experiments.

He also has quite the following of willing experiments....

If he has to go out of his way to hunt you down, you must be quite special to him.

Or you are just very unlucky.

I can only think of horrible things happening to Orochimaru's obsession once he has his serpentine eyes on them.

He seems twisted enough to make them one of his experiments, then turn around and say he loves them.

Want to make it worse? Make his obsession an Uchiha.

He has shown that he wants power, to do that he's been meaning to make an Uchiha his vessel (Itachi, Sasuke....).

So if he had an Uchiha obsession, it's probably infinitely worse for you.

Orochimaru is known to be highly manipulative with his charisma.

He could have his obsession be yet another loyal pawn who worships him... but I also think he enjoys the hunt.

With his ability to disguise himself and change vessels, hiding from his obsession is easy.

He'll watch you from the shadows, grinning mischievously as he thinks of ways to make you his newest toy.

There's no courting with you.

Even when he finds you attractive, he isn't going to spend time to get you to like him normally.

No, instead he plans to kidnap you.

Most yanderes at least get close to their obsession before resorting to such measures.

Orochimaru simply views it as part of the game he wishes to play with you.

His attraction to you could have occurred after kidnapping you or before.

Maybe you have a power he wishes to exploit, or maybe he took you for a different reason.

Either way... Your meeting with Orochimaru involves you being dragged into his base of operations and plopped into your own cell.

Some with a keen eye, like Kabuto, no doubt notice Orochimaru's... "fondness" towards you.

It's strange, a man such as him has not expressed care for anyone but himself.

Not old friends, not old mentors....

This is a man who kills for what he wants.

Yet here he is, talking to you softly.

Not only that but after whatever experimental horrors he puts you through... He comes back to you to offer comfort.

It's not very effective, but he never visits any other experiment as much as you.

Orochimaru is also fond of privacy.

Not even Kabuto is allowed to witness what you and Orochimaru do at times.

Which is often... intimate in nature.

Orochimaru is sadistic, after all.

To him, experimentation of all types is bonding.

Be that testing your strength, endurance... or other things not related to combat.

Orochimaru seems like the type to experiment with poisons or drugs.

He takes you, his favorite experiment, and weakens you bit by bit with what you can only assume is venom?

He likes to see how weak it makes you.

Plus, over time, it gets you immune to it.

But for now... He enjoys biting you just enough to see you weaken.

That's not the only reason he bites you, either...

He happens to enjoy marking you in any way he can.

No follower of his is allowed to communicate with you.

Orochimaru cares for nothing and no one but himself and you.

You could be chatting with someone from your cell, looking for human companionship...

Only for Orochimaru to slit their throat, eyes coldly watching their blood splatter.

"My little experiment... What did I say about speaking to others?"

Orochimaru adores everything about his little experiment.

He loves the way you feel, the way you taste, the way you squirm.

You're an experiment, a toy for him to use for his own personal entertainment.

If you're strong, he loves that too.

He's also been one who looks for strength in his test subjects.

Who knows, maybe he doesn't need Sasuke as a vessel...

Not when he has you.

Orochimaru has his ways of keeping you disciplined.

If the isolation and experiments weren't enough, he has his own ways of inflicting pain.

It can be physical... it can be mental... doesn't matter to him.

Even better if he gets to test another drug or venom on you.

He'll find what makes you compliant, one way or another.

If you're ever defiant, he'll find ways to break you.

Orochimaru is a possessive yandere, after all he loves to make marks on you.

You may be caged, but he still feels the need to show others you're his little pet.

The worst case scenario when it comes to him as a yandere is the fact he might use you as a host.

He has been known to take the bodies of others for who knows how long.

This is his key to immortality.

If he wanted his obsession to stay with him, as part of him...

He may steal your body for his own uses.

He knows you won't be willing, but you never had much of a choice.

Orochimaru knows just keeping you in a cage still allows others to steal you.

What if someone storms the place to 'rescue' you?

If he merges you two, then no one will take you from him.

He'll always remember you this way.

After all, he 'loves' you.

To him, what better way is there to show love than... well...

Becoming them?

There are no good outcomes for Orochimaru's obsession.

You're either kept as a pet and experiment... or made into his newest host.

Either way, Orochimaru doesn't care how he has you to himself...

He'll make sure you're his toy forever, no matter what the cost is.

[maypiles]

🥐🫖Coffee Grounds Reading ☕🥞

Darlings, pull up a chair, pour yourself something delicious, and brace yourselves. Today, we’re diving into a reading that took me by surprise—and that never happens.

❗This is a collective reading so take what resonates and leave what does not. Please do not force the reading. Be careful of scammers, I'll never reach out to you to ask you for money or personal readings❗

My First Coffee Grounds Reading: Spirit Had Something to Say

Now, let me preface this by saying: coffee grounds? Not my thing. Never done it before. Didn’t even consider it. But Spirit? Oh, they had other plans. They yanked me in like a puppet on a string. Imagine me, staring at this cup, thinking, ‘Why am I even doing this?’ And then, bam—downloads. Floods of them. It’s like Spirit couldn’t wait to talk to me. They didn’t just knock; they kicked the door down. Was this a gift I’ve been sitting on all this time? Perhaps. We’ll let the collective decide. So, this isn’t just any reading. This is a wake-up call. For me, for you, for whoever needs to hear it. Spirit doesn’t mess around, and apparently, neither do I. Let’s dive in, shall we?

The Empty Cycle: Judgment Day Is Here

Picture this: an empty circle in the grounds, glaring at me like an omen. And Spirit? They’re in my ear, murmuring ‘Judgment.’ Not the small stuff, darlings. This is major. This is cycles closing, chapters slamming shut, doors locking for good. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? That gnawing sense that something old, something stagnant, is finally over. This isn’t just change—it’s transformation, rebirth, a clean slate. Spirit was clear: this is fated. Your wake-up call has arrived. Are you ready to answer?

The Butterfly: Transformation Is Inevitable

As I sat there, watching the patterns swirl, a butterfly emerged, delicate and undeniable. Transformation, my loves. Metamorphosis. A new version of yourself taking shape. Spirit’s whispering: let go of what you were and embrace what you’re becoming. And oh, isn’t it poetic? Right when you think it’s over, the butterfly reminds you—it’s only just begun.

Two of Cups: A Connection That Defies Logic

Next, two figures appeared, facing each other. Intimate. Magnetic. Spirit screamed ‘Two of Cups!’ This isn’t just attraction—it’s soul recognition. Two people who see each other in a way no one else can. And let’s talk about them, shall we? She’s the Queen of Cups energy, all depth and allure. A Scorpio, no less. He? A Scorpio rising. The click is instant, inevitable. They’re drawn together like magnets, feeding off each other’s intensity, their water energies swirling into something neither can resist. It’s electric, intoxicating, and oh-so-scandalous, because some, not all, is being shady.

The Workplace Rendezvous: Three of Pentacles Energy

Here’s where it gets spicy: Spirit showed me their meeting point. It’s tied to work—his workplace, specifically. Maybe she works nearby. Maybe they met online but it’s somehow connected to his professional world. And there’s this detail: a shoe. Clear as day. A shoe shop, perhaps? She might work there, or maybe the symbolism runs deeper—stepping into new territory, walking a path they can’t turn back from, crossing a line that you shouldn't if you're committed to another. Either way, it’s rooted in their everyday lives, a seemingly mundane connection that turns extraordinary. Why am I hearing forbidden fruit while seeing the lovers card flash in my mind's eye?

The Migratory Birds: Moving On, Moving Forward

Then came the birds. Migratory, tiny, fluttering through the grounds like whispers of change. Spirit said, ‘Movement.’ Emotional? Literal? Both? Someone here is leaving something behind—baggage, a partner, an old life. Maybe they’re physically relocating, or maybe they’re finally letting go of what’s been holding them back. Either way, it’s a departure, a step into the unknown. And Spirit dropped a song into my mind—‘I’m Watching the Moon.’ You know it? ‘Moving on.’ The lyrics echo their journey: watching, letting go, starting over.

The Leak: Secrets, Scandals, and Consequences

Now, let’s address the brim of the cup, because this is where Spirit got dramatic. ‘This is going to leak,’ Spirit said. And not just any secret—a forbidden secret. There’s evidence, traces left behind. And here’s the kicker: it’s tied to intimacy. I saw sexting, nudes, private exchanges that aren’t staying private for long in the future. Something slips. Someone sees what they shouldn’t. It’s messy, darlings, and it leaves marks that can’t be erased. Play with fire, and you’ll get burned.

The Playboy Rabbit and Bugs Bunny: Symbols of Desire

Ah, the rabbit. The playboy kind—this one’s more primal, more instinctual. Also another rabbit appeared: Bugs Bunny, grinning like he knows a secret. Spirit painted a vivid picture: intimacy, raw and unfiltered. Him, behind her, holding her hair. Her, on her belly, surrendering completely. Spirit said ‘that's someone's favorite s∆x position’ And then—Sailor Moon? Spirit flashed her image, and I don’t know why, but it feels significant. Maybe it’s about fantasy, fulfillment, the way this connection feels almost otherworldly. And then came the seahorse—fulfillment, completion, a sense of being whole in each other’s presence.

The Timeline: Three Strikes, Three Months

Spirit kept emphasizing ‘three.’ Three strikes, three months. It’s a countdown, a ticking clock leading to something big. Maybe the leak. Maybe the emotional move. Maybe the culmination of their connection. Whatever it is, it’s happening soon. Spirit wants you to know: mark your calendars. This isn’t far off, darlings—it’s breathing down your neck.

The Pick-Me Queen and the Validation King™

Let’s talk about her, shall we? The Queen of Cups, the Scorpio enchantress. Spirit says she’s a pick-me girl, and oh, he’s eating it up. Why? Because she validates him, feeds his ego, makes him feel like he’s the only man in the world. And him? Scorpio rising. He’s obsessed. Consumed. Their dynamic is a perfect storm of need and adoration, and neither of them can resist the pull. (A detail Spirit kept insisting on is that she's born in 2002 TF?)

🥐🫖My Final Thoughts🫖🥐

So, darlings, there you have it. My first-ever coffee grounds reading, and what a revelation it was. I don’t know if this is a gift I’ve been hiding or just Spirit playing tricks on me, but one thing’s certain: I’m hooked. If this resonates, take it, run with it. If not, well, enjoy the drama—it’s better than Netflix, isn’t it? And remember: I don’t predict the future—I reveal it. Spirit’s the storyteller, I’m just the scribe. Until next time, my loves. Ta-ta!

Vote wisely, my loves, and don’t hold back—I never do.

P.S: Pictures and dividers belong to their respective owners.

[weveseenallthegreenery]

Mel Medarda seeks out Viktor after discovering her arcane talents — Filler Smut

I was originally contemplating having this part be an archive of our own exclusive considering it has a different tone from the rest of the story and doesn't contribute much of anything to the plot, but my friend convinced me that you FREAKS would probably like it since most of you don't read the fic in order anyway.

nsfw | filler content | 1438 words | light smut | shortfic | basically not edited | won't be linking the rest of the series on this post

A few days ended up turning into a few weeks, and I could tell that Jayce fell into the same trap that I did. I had come here for comfort and ended up liking the interaction so much that I couldn’t leave. Jayce had come here to do something uncomfortable and ended up not being able to do it because he knew that the people around him loved him. He hadn’t intended to stay long but ended up falling into routine with us, the same way that I had when it was only Viktor and me.

The three of us had even started to sleep in bed together. Before now, Viktor would occasionally cuddle me if one of us was in a bad mood. He initiated affection often when I was tired or uncomfortable, but other than that, he wasn’t much of a cuddler at all. However, ever since Jayce came, we had all been inseparable. Jayce usually slept in the middle—sometimes swapping with me—and held onto Viktor as I held onto him. It was nice. It was comfortable. It did, unfortunately, remind me of our old trysts, though.

This was one of those days that I had woken up before the others. It didn’t happen often as Viktor would usually rise early to finish a lot of the simpler chores and make sure that we had enough food for breakfast. However, I was grateful for when it did happen because I got to look at the two men next to me and just… think about the situation I was in. I had found out some of the most horrible, traumatizing information about myself after being kidnapped. I ran away to find the only person who could understand me. I told off my mother. And then my ex-lover had found his way to us and joined us in our little community.

Things had come about in a rather awful way, but I couldn’t say that I wasn’t content with the way things were going. I really liked being reconnected with Jayce. He and I ended on the wrong foot, but I never truly stopped caring about him—I cared about him a little too much, actually. And I wasn’t quite sure if his decision to stay was a testament to his still having affection for me or his liking for Viktor. I feared that it may have been the latter, but I didn’t mind.

I had also started to feel myself become drawn to Viktor. I had realized this before Jayce joined us at the commune, but the feelings definitely became more potent after watching the man I had grown to be affectionate with caress the man that I had bedded in the past. Although the interaction was never anything but wholesome, it made a pool of warmth fill my gut.

I’d been left wanting a lot lately, not having much time to myself. Although I was still in bed with the others, I figured that maybe it would be okay just this once, since they were asleep and all. I held my hand in front of my face, wondering if I should really go through with what I was thinking… My nails had gotten quite long since coming to the commune, and the color was starting to chip. I would have to ask Viktor to get my nails done when he woke up.

I slipped my hand under the blanket, trailing it down my stomach before reaching the hem of my shorts. I played with the fabric, still a bit nervous about my actions. I used my other hand to tug my shorts down a bit, making them feel less tight on my stomach before slipping my other hand under my shorts and into my panties. I couldn’t help but make a small noise of discomfort as I found my clit effortlessly, rubbing in a slow circle as I attempted to get myself off.

I knew that it would be difficult for me to cum without anything inside of me, but I didn’t have any toys at the commune and my nails were so sharp that I worried I might cut myself. This just had to do for now. It didn’t take very long for me to get wet, making it much easier for me to glide my fingers along the skin. It started to feel much more comfortable as I sped up, breath hitching as I tried not to move closer to either of the men—of course, this was the one time they had decided to let me sleep in the middle. I was two seconds away from release where I felt a thin arm wrap around my stomach under the cover and grab my arm. I halted my movement as Viktor hummed, “What’re you doing?”

I didn’t know what to say. I felt like I couldn’t breathe as the heat rose all the way from my core to my face. This was possibly the most embarrassing thing I’d ever experienced in my life as I attempted to roll over so that I was facing The Herald.

“Don’t you know it’s not polite to touch yourself next to someone’s sleeping body?” The man raised an eyebrow at me, but he didn’t actually look all that mad. In fact, he looked almost amused to have caught me. His voice was low and teasing as he hummed, “You weren’t even hiding it well. You were moving your hand so fast that your whole body was practically squirming.”

“Well, not all of us are able to go months without release,” I huffed, trying to get my hand out of my pants, but Viktor pushed it back.

He hummed and closed his eyes, “Don’t stop on my account. By all means, do whatever you need to do.”

“You are not asking me to masturbate in front of you,” I scoffed and rolled my eyes, tugging on my hand once more. He didn’t fight it this time, clearly not wanting to make me uncomfortable despite the playful banter.

“Unless you want my help…” He started.

That’s all it took for everything to snap into place. Less than five minutes after he uttered those words, he was on top of me, kissing my neck as I tried not to moan. He had completely taken off my shorts and panties, fingers moving inside of me with ungodly precision. I dug my fingers into his back, “Fuck… you’re gonna wake up Jayce. Slow down a little.”

“Hmm, maybe we should wake him up,” Viktor mumbled against my skin. “You didn’t seem to mind playing with yourself next to him, so what’s the difference if I help you out a little bit?”

My eyes rolled as his fingers sped up, pressure building up in all the right places, “Viktor—Stop, I’m gonna…”

I gasped, legs spasming as I came around his fingers. A string of moans left my lips as he rode me through my orgasm. I was trying to be quiet, but it was practically impossible at this point. I wasn’t surprised when Jayce’s eyes opened.

At first, he was just tired and confused about what all the noise was for. He rolled over and tried to wrap his arms around my stomach before he realized there was an extra body on mine. After a little bit of grumbling, his eyes widened. He was fully awake almost as soon as he realized what happened. He sat up quickly and asked, “What the fuck?”

“Good morning,” I hesitated. I felt so floaty and calm but knew the situation was bad. “Sorry.”

He frowned down at me before staring at Viktor with narrowed eyes, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You’ve already slept with her,” Viktor shrugged. “Besides, she was being all needy… it was probably best to give it to her right away.”

Jayce huffed and laid his head on my shoulder, “You didn’t have to leave me out…”

“I can make it up to you later,” Viktor rolled off of me, laying his head on my other shoulder as he moved his slick hand to Jayce’s bicep. “You know you’re not mad at me. Not really.”

Jayce leaned over me to place a gentle kiss to Viktor’s mouth—which was the first time, to my knowledge, that they were physically involved. Viktor didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss almost immediately. A moan escaped Jayce’s mouth as Viktor reached his hand to the other side of the bed to grab Jayce’s ass, pulling him close to my side and forcing me to feel his morning wood press against my skin. This was going to be a long morning.

[yesimwriting]

The diversity of louis is sometimes giving protective big bro and sometimes he’s a bestie. I feel he out of all people know how cruel the world can be, especially to women - ya know considering he’s able to hear the thoughts of people he and bestie reader encounter in their way. (Unrelated but know bestie reader is a stunner, I feel it in my bones ;))

I also figured out why I enjoy your writing so much: it’s the casual displays of affection & physical contact between a man and woman without making/forcing it to be romantic or sexual, like at all. It’s so refreshing to see.

Everything nowadays has underlying themes of attraction/sexuality and this is pure fluff. I love it.

i haven't been able to stop thinking about this ask since i got it.

first and foremost, thank you so much for sharing what you enjoy about my writing! part of the reason fanfic writing is fun for me is bc it's a way of looking at characters i already love and thinking about what they'd be like in a day-to-day way outside of crucial plot points.

i've also always felt more naturally inclined to settling the reader into the world of a story bc of how much i love world building, and i think friendships are a part of that. thank you for reading and enjoying :)).

omg, also unrelated but it's so cute that you consider bestie reader a stunner bc i almost made her a model/fashion girly lol.

i really love what you're saying about louis and bestie reader's dynamic. it's really important for me that it's clear that while they are so close they feel like family, there's nothing parental about their dynamic.

louis does not see bestie reader as his daughter/child, and reader does not see louis as a father/parental figure. however, his previous experiences as a father impact his relationship with her in ways he doesn't understand.

the way i see louis, he has a lot of subconscious trauma that aggravates the regret/doubt he's actively aware of. louis does not regret claudia, but i do believe he does regret not being there for her in certain ways and not protecting her. and while he doesn't see reader as claudia, being so close to a young woman that hasn't had to endure claudia's hurt, it's hard not to see what claudia could have been if he had been there for her more...or if she had never become a vampire at all.

he also feels guilty about getting to live so contently after everything that happened. if louis can 'protect' reader and prove that he's learned, then it's less wrong of him to be happy with reader bc he's doing something good.

this is why he acts like more of a 'big brother' sometimes. bestie reader and louis will be chilling and then reader will mention wanting to go to some out of control party or meeting up with an older art collector by herself and louis suddenly remembers every evil thought he's ever heard a man have...and he just can't let it go.

i see this as being maybe one of the only real points of contention in their relationship. i picture bestie reader as being in her early-to-mid 20's, and while she's definitely an adult, that label means so little to louis. he's nearly 200 yrs old and he can hear men's thoughts when he goes out with reader. he's not wrong to think that he has a greater understanding of the world than reader, or to be worried about her.

however, on reader's side of things, louis being protective is a sore subject. part of it is a freedom thing, but it's mainly bc she doesn't want to think about what she's not. she's not a vampire, she can't say she's roamed the earth for centuries, and sometimes she thinks that makes her too 'limited' for louis. the one time they got into an actual fight, it was because louis tried to imply that he wouldn't let her do something. louis was so villainously annoyed and insufferable during this time armand and daniel were struggling as much as them 😭

also, while louis does look out for bestie reader bc he wants her to be safe/happy, he's also protective bc he's already getting a limited amount of time with her. if something were to happen to her, he'd have the crash out to end all crash outs.

also, kind of a side note, but god forbid a guy makes the mental decision to act on thoughts of doing something to reader. louis is taking care of it :).

reader lowkey doesn't remember what it's like to have to worry about her safety, which is only good if she's going out with louis, which again, aggravates louis's overprotectiveness. it's a vicious cycle.

[quirkwizard]

Final Note: A Look at the True Ending of My Hero Academia

Wow, Hori. Way to ruin my heartfelt review of the final few chapters of your series. It was very inconsiderate of you to put this out.

Okay, but seriously, I was not expecting this to happen. When I had heard that Volume 42 was going to have a lot of new pages added, I thought there were just going to be more extras. Stuff like little notes and character profiles. Imagine my shock when we get a whole additional chapter for the proper finale of the series.

I am only writing about one chapter here. In spite of the fact this is ending the series, there's only so much I can cover here. So this is going to be a lot shorter than some of my other mega posts. More notes and a few longer tangents then the bigger analysis I had written about on the final arc and the epilogue.

And yes, I am using the fan translations here. Normally, I'd wait for some official translation to come out, but going by what people have said, these translations are pretty close to what's going on in the manga. Plus, the last volume isn't likely to come out until October and there is no way I am waiting that long to talk about this.

Duds and Duds: The Final Stitch-Part 2

Let's get something simple out of the way first: new looks.

-Nejire got one of the more improved looks. The spiral gauntlets and leggings are simple additions, but really add a lot to her look.

-I guess Present Mic's hair works like a tree. It grows as he ages and if you cut it, you can tell how old he's gotten by the rings.

-Best Jeanist, how did you get a hair cut that somehow even made you look like even more of a complete fop? And why the laces? Why do the jeans have laces in them?

-I'm mixed on Mirio's new look. The ones on his legs are kind of silly, but very fitting for him. I also miss the visor he had on as well. However, I cannot accept the pompadour as a part of his appearance. I'm sorry, but it just looks silly.

-Kamui Wood's new look is simple, but amazing. The narrower eyes look more menacing, the branches around his mask forming a makeshift crown, the wreath of leaves around his head to give him this regal look. It's great, no notes.

-The Ketsubutsu Schools kids got some minor touch-ups to help them stick out more, such as Shikkui's more rap artist-inspired look and Tatami's arm sleeves. It just makes them look less generic. Yo Shindo caught me off guard though. Maybe it's the cow-lick or hair dye, but he looks like an entirely new character. Like I swear his face changed shape too.

-I think Tamaki just won me over. No joke, he actually may have gotten one of my favorite looks. The all-black look with the hood gives this monstrous appearance. The teeth on the hood is not only amazing appearance, but a really cool reference to how his power works around eating. The little bendy straw on his costume is amazing as well. It's both a cute detail and a practical part of the costume.

-Juzo, Setsuna, and Kendo didn't have much going. Maybe a few minor design choice changes that don't hurt anything. Same with Tetsutetsu, but I really like his sharper hair and larger eye accents. Just something about them made him pop out more. I like Manga's drawing tablet as his chestpiece. It's a really cute design for his character.

-Seiji looks even cooler now with his sharper features. Inasa is more of a sidegrade. The Slimy Shadey hair is really odd, but I do like the goggles to help fit in with his steampunk look. Camie I'm the most confused about. Why does she have feathers in her cap? Is that a reference I'm not getting? Maybe to a superhero or mythological figure?

-Monoma has the worst design out of anyone here. I don't even know where to begin with him. The clock earrings are dumb and just seem like they'd get in the way. His gloves are actively keeping him from using his Quirk. And do I even need to say anything about this hair cut? I can't believe Hori turned Monoma into an e-boy.

-Fat Gum is a bit of a downgrade for me. The all-black look doesn't suit his more welcoming brand and personality. Plus, the "M" and "G" in the middle of the "F" already present on his chest just look really out of place. I just think it worked better with the "F" and "G" on his old costume. They just fit a lot more seamlessly into his overall look and helped break up all the yellow with some white.

Meet Up/Catch Up

Now to talk about certain changes to Class 1-A. Yes, I'm dedicating another list segment to this. I have a lot of thoughts on it

-Wow, I really don't like Sero's peach fuz mustache. It looked bad in the helmet, and it's even worse now. It just looks so wrong on him.

-I despise Iida's half buzz, though I will admit that's more than everything ruining that hair cut over the past seven years.

-Nighthide is such a terrible hero's name. I'm not sure if that's just bad translation, a lack of creativity, so simply an in character choice for Shinso to be bad at naming stuff. Just like his mentor.

-Kirishima threatening to scratch the hood of Bakugou's car is one of my favorite jokes in the series. I know it's only part of the fan translation, but I'm going to be disappointed if it isn't in the official one.

-I like how Hori basically had Denki and Jiro look into the camera and confirm they are not dating. Right after confirming two characters getting together that nobody cared about but him. 

-I have once again been vindicated by canon. Iida is in fact faster than Bakugou. The manga out-and-out said it. All the power scalers out there can turn on your badge and calculators.

-Hey, look at that, a billboard with Izuku's face on it. It's almost as if he hasn't forgotten about it over the last couple of years. Maybe Hori wanted to make it extra obvious for some of the fans.

-I appreciate how not everyone is a pro hero by the end and some of them are still sidekicks. Any other author would have had it, so all the students are pros with their own agencies, but it's realistic not every one of them would have the want or ability to become a proper pro. I'm honestly surprised which ones are and aren't though.

-I'm kind of amazed that my guess of the rankings of the heroes ended up being so spot on. Pretty much all of them ended up in the brackets. I would have guessed where they were. Even some of the reasoning was spot on, like Bakugou's terrible people skills still getting in his own way a lot of the time. The dark horse of all this was certainly Shoji. I assumed that he would have fallen in the rankings due to spending so much time trying to deal with the heteromorph situation, but I guess that ended up helping him in the long run.

Missing Invites

So one complaint I've heard about this ending is how focused it is on Class 1-A and especially Uraraka and Izuku. Which I can kind of get. It's just that, as the final chapter in this entire story, it carries a lot more finality to it. So, if some character isn't given any attention, chances are they are never going to get it. I can understand the desire to see other characters. Like I wanted to at least get a look at how All Might and Endeavor were doing. Even if it's only one panel, it would have been nice how things were for them eight years on.

However, I do think that misses the point of this chapter. Because a lot of this chapter is around to act as an epilogue to the main cast of the series and to show us the future that they were and are still fighting for. As well as to tie up Izuku and Uraraka's arcs and to affirm what the story is about and what messages are. Anything that isn't focused on that feels more like a nice bonus rather than something integral we needed to see, such as getting to see the Big Three as heroes. A lot of the characters and their arcs were wrapped up already. As nice as it would be to see where they ended up, you don't really need to.

Ships Docked

Look, I'm glad there weren't a lot of ships got together within the final act. If we're being honest, a lot of the ships that people love didn't have a strong foundation in canon. So I didn't really want or expect an "And then everyone paired off and had a kid" ending that people were wishing for or dreading would come to pass. Considering that there hasn't been much in the way of personal relationships for more than 1-A as a whole, instead of pushing 1-A more as a larger unit of people that help and support one another rather than focusing on individual pairs, it would have been very jarring.

That being said, it's hilarious how, in a fanbase as famous for shipping as this one, there are only three canon pairings at the end of the series. Maybe four depending on how you interpret Gentle and La Brava's ending. And two of them were for ships nobody cared about. There was Shindo and Tamati, a pair that you'd only know was a couple from the databooks. Then there was Kuroiro and Komori, a connection that only had the faintest of set up in the databooks, a brief exchange during the Joint Training Arc, before being pushed front and center in the very last chapter. And of course, there was... we'll get to that, trust me.

Ghosts of Shipping Past

So you're telling me that Izuku got pushed to Uraraka by Bakugou and Toga pushed Uraraka to Izuku? Bakugou and Toga, who are the most popular pairs for Izuku and Uraraka respectively, are literally pushing Izuku and Uraraka together. And that's what ends up making them confess to each other. If I didn't know any better, I would say this is a Supernatural finale level of spite on Hori's part. That he got so tired of people harassing him and his staff about shipping and had this part sketched out to specifically make people upset about it. 

And if Uraraka is seeing Himiko and Izuku is seeing Tomura, does that mean that they are both being haunted by them? Fanfic writers, this is a golden opportunity here to make a comedy fic. A newly minted hero couple try to live their lives while being haunted by the ghost of their archenemies. What, is Himiko going to be cheering Uraraka on about getting together with Izuku and that she should take him right now? Meanwhile, Tomura's haunting Izuku about how he should grind out another level in League of Legends before doing anything else?

Odds are LeMillion to One

I'm still pretty mixed about Mirio becoming the Number One hero. I guess it feels like such a big deal to get the top spot only to have it fall to Mirio. And I'm not saying that to slam Mirio. I do like Mirio. Mirio is one of the most heroic figures to come out of UA, if not the whole series. It's just odd to me because Mirio feels like such an afterthought. Outside the Yakuza Arc, he hasn't had much going on with him, let alone an arc where it feels like a proper conclusion. I suppose it's to show the change in things. How the greatest hero in Japan isn't this invincible pillar, but this jokey guy that can hang out with kids and make a fool of himself.

I guess that has less to do with where Mirio ended up and more about how little presence he had in the story. Looking back, I do think that Mirio's presence and momentum were put to a grinding halt because he lost his Quirk. That Horikoshi just wasn't sure what to do with him once the Yakuza arc was done. Because when I try to map out Mirio's character and his arc, I struggle to understand where it was going and how it ended up here. He's introduced as the guy who seems like the best "One For All" candidate on paper. Then it's shifted to being more about carrying on Sir Nighteye's successor. I know I'm getting way off-topic here. It's just been something that's been on my mind ever since I read the chapter.

Temperate

Shoto is great in this chapter. I've always stood by the idea that part of Shoto's arc in the series is about him trying to define himself as a person. Away from all his family and the baggage that came with it. From trying to accept his power as his own to riding himself over the demons of his father to finally being able to be his own person. Saying that he just wants to do something because he wants to do it. It's also a good contrast to how Enji was. Instead of obsessing over the same thing that destroyed his family, once Shoto got as high as he felt he could go, he instead turned to something new that he wanted to try. For no other reason than he simply liked soba and thought it would taste better with something he made. 

I also really like how they tie this into the idea of heroes having more free time and becoming less and less needed. That now heroes have chances to take care of themselves, stop worrying about everyone else, and have lives outside their work. Again, that's something I feel like didn't ring as true with only Chapter 430 as context. We never got to see anyone besides Izuku working in that chapter. And since he was a teacher and not a pro hero, it didn't feel like what Hawks did came to pass outside of maybe a few lines. So I'm glad it got some focus on Shoto and his own arc. I think it's a excellent note to end his character on. I'm glad that it was more overtly finished as opposed to the single panel we got for it in Chapter 430.

Blast Back

So, after all that, what do I think about Bakugou's ending? I think it's an effective bittersweet ending to his character. He reminds me a lot of veterans after a war. And I'm not just saying that because he was in two wars for his life, both of which he technically died in, though that is part of that. It's more about the mindset and character of Bakugou. He's a man who defines himself by his ability to fight and win. Now the world is coming to the point where those aren't as valued, and he lashes out because of it. He tries to find that drive in other people like his sidekicks, but none of them have it anymore. He tries to reignite that rivalry with Izuku, only to find that he's moving on with his own life. 

It's like a natural expansion of his failure to move past his mindset earlier on in the series and how obsessed he was with being the best, only now it's twenty times more depressing. It's an interesting way to end his character. Bakugou got what he wanted, but realizes how little any of it really means. Which isn't to say it's a sad ending. Bakugou was able to complete his arc and come out the other side a better person. That is a more worthwhile reward than any kind of ranking. However, I do think there is some hope for Bakugou. Considering how much of the chapter is about people trying to live their lives outside of being a hero, I prefer to think that he would eventually do the same.

Weightless Burden

Out of all the characters, Uraraka needed this chapter the most and easily benefits the most from the extra focus. There's just a lot about her character that felt unfinished otherwise. Like with a lot of stuff, it does help that we get to see Uraraka in action and helping people with their Quirks. It helps clear the air about what exactly Quirk Counseling is and how it's going to affect people from now on. That what Uraraka said wasn't just hot air, and she did help people. And that, yes, what the League did and went through was important. It helped push people to make changes later to keep something like this from ever happening again.

More importantly, we get to see her dealing with her emotions. I feel like an underrated part of Ochako's arc was her being more honest about her feelings. We got a lot of her trying to understand people and the importance of reaching out with Toga. And without that part of her arc completed, it seemed like a part of her story was left unfinished. I like how it gets so much focus in this chapter, with Uraraka basically being literally haunted by her feelings, both metaphorically and literally. All in all, I like how Uraraka was handled in the final chapter, and I think this is a good end for her. If only there wasn't something that overshadowed her entire storyline in the eyes of the fans.

Within Reach

I feel so vindicated by this whole chapter. Besides all the claims people made about Izuku being disproved, it retroactively makes Chapter 430 better. I was always fine with Izuku being a teacher. I felt it was a very natural place for his character to end up in hindsight. It's something he has the skill to do, especially in a place like UA with his observational skills and hero knowledge. However, it can still feel jarring with just Chapter 430. Izuku's dream was to be the world's greatest hero. He did achieve that, but it was never mentioned that he wanted to be a teacher. Having Izuku say that was what he wanted and enjoys doing is very important. It helps add a lot of validity to this writing choice and shows how much Izuku has grown into wanting things outside of hero work.

More importantly, I feel like this works much better as a finale for him. While Izuku working with Dai about his Quirk did work as showing Izuku's change in mindset, I don't think it was as satisfying of an ending. It worked to tie up some of the thematic ends to the story and Izuku, but it did not work as well for an emotional climax. Because Dai was just some nobody we hadn't met before. Now, we get a lot more proper closure with Izuku and the rest of the cast. We got his final moments with All Might and Aizawa, but not much else. Now we finally get closure with all of his classmates, Bakugou and Uraraka included. And it gives us time to show him enjoying stuff outside of hero work instead of just being told about it.

Car Bomb

Alright, let's disarm this first bomb. The car ride.

Speaking of growth, it is not out of character for Izuku to reject Bakugou's offer. It has been over a decade since Izuku has been in middle school. He has grown a lot over the year the story takes place in. Shoot, he's probably grown a lot more since then as well. My point is, this is not the same Izuku at the start of the series. He would not freak out over signed All Might merchandise. Izuku and All Might have been friends for a decade. He would not jump at the chance to work under Bakugou as a sidekick or with him as an equal. Izuku does and should have a life outside of Bakugou. Izuku does not owe Bakugou anything for helping to make him a suit. It was a group effort with Toshinori and the rest of Class 1-A, and I really doubt Bakugou would even want Izuku to join just because Izuku "owed him one".

I bring this up after talking to Izuku and Bakugou on their own because both are important parts of why this section of the story was done this way. Izuku out and out said that he wants to be a teacher over a pro hero. Being a hero is important to him. It lets him spend more time with his friends, and he gets to help people, but it doesn't define his life any more. He's doing what he wants now. He doesn't have that self-destructive heroism as a part of him anymore. His wanting and choosing to be a teacher is part of that healthy selfishness I was talking about before. I honestly think that him working with Bakugou would undermine that part of the ending. That he'd go back into hero work full time and have it take over his life rather than focusing everything on teaching. Shoot, it even ends with Bakugou telling Izuku to think more for himself.

And I think a lot of this comes down to people overestimating Izuku and Bakugou's connection and its relevance to the overall story and underestimating their own growth. Bakugou is Izuku's rival, and they play a part in each other's story, but their rivalry is of minor note to the greater story. This isn't like Naruto and Sasuke, where the two main rivals are of vital importance to one another's storylines. It's more like Ichigo and Yuru, where the rivalries are far less prominent and only occasionally cross over. It was more that Bakugou's own arc was heavily tied to Izuku, but Bakugou's arc was only part of what was going on in his own story. Specifically, the part of Izuku training to be a hero and how they both learn from one another. However, that part of it is done because Izuku found a life for himself outside of hero work, leaving not as much for Bakugou. Which is why I think the ending seems sad for Bakugou, even though I'd describe it as more bittersweet.

Holding Hands? How Scandalous!

All of this chapter aside, let's get into the real meat of this and defuse the second bomb. There were a lot of fans that were upset about this. Let's remove the good chunk that were simply upset their ship didn't become canon and focus on some real issues people have with this.

No, this isn't a fake-out. This wasn't made by Hori's assistants, generated by AI, or whatever other piece of cope you've heard online. This did happen, it is canon, and it is romantic. And yes, them holding hands is supposed to be romantic. Not only would it be out of character for these flustered nerds to do anything more implicitly romantic, but them holding hands ties a lot more into their characters. Them grabbing each other's hands is an integral part of their connection and growth. It's to show the two are connected and understanding one another. It ties back to the idea of reaching out being about understanding someone and part of why the two do it so much together. By them clasping hands at the end, it's to show the bond the two have made and how close they are now.

No, Uraraka getting with Izuku is not something that was forced into the story, nor was it something that came out of nowhere. Uraraka's feelings for Izuku have been set up ever since she was introduced. It started out as a crush but was slowly reinforced and built up between the two's appearances, both apart and together. Having her get with Izuku ends part of her arc as well. One of the biggest points of Uraraka's story is how bad it is to repress your feelings and not be emotionally open with the people around you. This is contrasted by Toga, someone who was hurt by that same repression, yet now was totally honest with her feelings. It's why Uraraka said that she admired Toga as a person for that honesty. Shoot, it's why Ochako confesses her feelings for Izuku in that fight. Something people seem to be forgetting. Uraraka pushing down her feelings wasn't the end of that plotline, it was merely another plot point in her story that culminated in this confession.

No, this doesn't devalue or reorient Toga's story to be about the two of them. Toga has always played a major role in the romantic connection between Izuku and Uraraka at various points in the story. There's a reason why Izuku keeps getting brought up whenever Uraraka and Toga fight each other. However, that was only a part of her character. Toga's story was all about trying to be understood for who she was and trying to find happiness in her life. She got that when Uraraka was willing to bleed and die just to try and reach out to her. And Toga's story was over when she died and saved Uraraka's life, living life as she chose to till the very end. Izuku and Uraraka getting together does not ruin that. Her usage here is more about her manifesting due to Uraraka's unresolved emotions. It's why Toga only shows up when Izuku becomes more active in her life. Again, it goes back to that whole thing about Uraraka admiring Toga for being so open about her feelings.

No, the fact that Uraraka ends up with Izuku does not devalue her character in any way, shape, or form. Her getting with Izuku is part of her story, but that's it: part of her story. She can still be her own person with her own life outside of Izuku while being in a happy relationship with him. They aren't mutually exclusive. Uraraka has this whole other arc she goes through with Toga that is integral to each character and the story overall. For the past eight years, Uraraka was and still is a pro heroine who helped countless people with the expanded Quirk Counseling program. That part was well established before the relationship was resolved. Because that's just as important to her story and character as the romance with Izuku. That doesn't go away because she updated her status to "In a Relationship". It doesn't automatically reduce her to a housewife. I'm sick of people saying this, and it's a frankly disgusting way to look at her character.

Epilogue to the Epilogue

So what do I feel about this ending? It was nice, and I am glad that we got it. I am someone who defended the original ending and have only come to appreciate it more as time has gone on. That being said, it did leave me with this feeling of incompleteness. Like the overall picture was there, but there were fragments of it missing. And in those fragments, people started filling holes with their garbage ideas. I do think that Chapter 431 filled out some much-needed holes within the first finale and ends the series on a good note.

Heck, Hori was able to fix and cover a lot of the problems I had with Chapter 430. The fact that Izuku wanted to be a teacher seemingly coming out of nowhere? Settled and expanded upon that he always wanted to be a hero as well as a teacher. The lack of any real final moments between Izuku and Bakugou? That was settled pretty well with the two of them in the car. The lack of resolution regarding Izuku and Uraraka? One of the main focal points of this chapter and what we ultimately end the series on. It feels more complete, if that makes any sense. And I'm glad Hori got this opportunity. Few authors ever get the chance to make a recovery like this, and fewer still are able to pull it off.

I will say that now I'm less worried than I was before. When I ended my review of the final few chapters, I talked about how much the general perception of the series would have been tainted by the ending. I feel like most fans are a lot more agreeable with this than they were on Chapter 430. I still stand by the fact that it was ruined by leakers and the general anti-hype tainting any discussion people could have about it. And it wouldn't have stung so if all of the obnoxious memes and straight-up lies surrounding the ending weren't out there.

Will My Hero Academia live on? Oh, I'm sure it will somehow. Maybe Shonen Jump will force the hand of one of their many mangaka into making a sequel series. Maybe it will live on through merchandise sales, spin-off light novels, and however many movies they decide to make about it. I know for certain it will live on. In us. Countless characters, stories, and art pieces that we all made because of it.

I started this series right around the same age as Izuku. Some young kid who was quiet, socially awkward, and obsessed with superheroes, knowing all sorts of trivia about them. So naturally, I was drawn to series where the protagonist was literally me. Yet what kept me was the story, the worldbuilding, the characters, the art, and, of course, the power system. But the thing that resonated with me more than anything was the message: anyone can be a hero as long as you choose to be one. Now that the series is over, here I am again. At a similar age to Izuku. I wonder if I've grown as much as he has. All I know is that My Hero Academia will always have a special place in my heart.

Sure, there were ups and downs throughout the story. Yet, in a strange way, I appreciate that as well. This story helped me a lot when it came to my critical thinking with the media I interacted with. It made me think about and reconsider what I was watching and reading over and over again. It helped me overcome my gut reactions to events and how those reactions would stick with me. It helped me think more and more about the actual message and meaning of it. Not what I thought the story was saying, but what the story was trying to tell me. It made me reconsider parts I despised and helped me appreciate what I enjoyed so much about this story.

Most of all, it inspired me to create this blog and to meet all of you. It filled me with so much creative passion that I couldn't help but share it with all of you. Was it hard? At times. But there was always the feeling that what I did inspired and helped the people see the series in a new light. I've had so many people talk about how much they love my blog, how they are excited to see me post, and how much they want to use my Quirks for their stories and characters. I've even had people say to me that what I did helped them think about stuff critically, and they were inspired to make their own stories all because of what I did. That means so much to me. More than you could ever imagine.

And now it's over. I'm left to wonder what I will do with myself and this blog now that it's done. I suppose I'll have to figure that out soon enough.

[billiessillywife]

pov: you’ve always had trouble with maintaining ur weight , eating is a struggle you always tend to binge then you feel guilty and it’s a huge spiral , billie your girlfriend notices and helps you.

warnings: talk about self harm, weight and eating

songs to listen to : camden by gracie abrams and skinny by billie eilish

weight has always been a factor in your problems. the lyrics to billie’s songs in the background and you listen attentively it feels like ur floating really

people say i look happy

just because i got skinny

but the old me is still me and maybe the real me

and i think she’s pretty

this was true in more ways than once , the old you is still in the back of your mind. truly a memory never fading away, it find a special place in ur brain and just sits there . the old you never cared about how many calories that cake had , or the fact that you needed to starve urself before a event to look good.

she truly lived with no looking at back. you think if she saw the older version of you she’d be so fucking disappointed. you always wore the baggiest clothes stealing them from billie to hids away the pain and the guilt , the disappointment of looking like this . you hide away half your face when ur snapping/ face timing one of your friends so that you don’t see you big nose or the fact that you have a double chin , you can’t help but to over analyze every single specific feature of your face and body.

you scratch ur back and neck slightly you always do that, it’s comfort for you but what people don’t know. is that when you scratch you tend to use your nails more harshly ,rougher causing multiple scars on ur neck and back , it stings you when ur in the shower, but it dosen’t annoy you , you want that feeling ,the pain.

you never saw your self making it to 25 you’re 21 currently your struggling and it’s so bad , your driving and it’s slowly becoming harder, recklessly and you hope that one day you hit on impact and go , just go. you hope for once someone can hear you, hear the quite sobs at night.

somebody please know that i’m trying

billie is in the kitchen making breakfast and you go to the bathroom to brush up. one look at the reflection on the mirror , you hold your stomach , running your fingers up and down you see the stretch marks and you fucking hate it again and again, the fact that there’s so much fat doesn’t sit right with you, you want to take it all away

idontwannabeyouanymore

this always happens and you can’t help it . you truly hate your body , ur eating habits everything that sums up you you hate it.

billie goes up the stairs and finds you in the bathroom. she enters and you don’t even feel it so caught up in the rummage of your thoughts

she wraps her hand around ur waist softly

hi baby i made pancakes come on let’s go eat

she looks at you with so much love after 1 year you together you still can’t grasp that the billie eilish loves you. you’ve spent endless nights crying and billie reassuring you that she’s never going to love you she’ll stick through it through the deep and shallow the thin and thick she’s so madly in love with you even with the things you hate she loves a million times more.

you don’t say a word but billie understands she keeps her hand on ur waist and slightly turns ro face you .

she grabs your chin and makes you look at her ocean eyes .

baby hey, i know that this is hard , the slightest and even smallest things in life can be hard to do , you can find it fucking hard to go to the bathroom in the morning and that’s okay , you move in your pace , i told you this once and i’ll say it forever and ever , you my love you’re truly an artwork , a godsend miracle just for me to look at and admire , i can seriously look at you for hours on end and i wouldn’t get bored , your beautiful face, those brown gorgeous eyes, your cute button nose, that freaking smile you have , all i want is for you to see your self the way i do , so so so beautiful and just ethereal my love i see it when i look at you , you my sweet girl . your body mama dont get me started on it , it’s perfect in more ways than one your hip dips just gives me more and more to love, your stretch marks and everything. i love you with everything about you the good and bad baby always know that please .

you sigh with tears in your eyes , billie loves you and you love her , it’s gonna be okay this is just one stumble in the road

i love you so much billie

i’m so in love with you beautiful

she wraps you up in her arms and hugs you so so tightly whispering sweet nothings youre gonna be okay .

[zirconpetals]

Sorry for reblogging an old post like this, especially if your opinions on the matter have changed, but this is really helping me put things together in my head.

(I was gonna put it in the tags but realized I kinda went off. Also sorry if you get this notification twice, Tumblr's been glitching out on me & I accidentally first sent it before I finished writing)

The fact that there's a precedent at all is still bad, but if you read fics or the way people discuss it, you'd think he's dropping this kind of language every two sentences. But as I was thinking about that scene, I was like. But it doesn't usually happen, does it? It only happened like twice.

(Tbh completely forgot about the Gamesters one, but the other two scenes are so iconic, which is probably what is colouring people's perception here, & why the hobgoblin thing is so widespread. Or maybe it's because of AOS, but then — why did they put it in AOS. In 2009??)

If anything, McCoy compares him to a computer the most, & this is also something Kirk uses to bait Spock with in "This side of paradise". So it might be worse than it seems.

Additionally, McCoy only brings up the colour of Spock's blood in the show in situations when they're specifically talking about blood. (Which happens a lot because he's a doctor). It's often in a "I wish it was the same as everyone else's & my job was easier" kinda manner, which is still. Bad. Especially if you're a doctor & Spock had probably been around sentiments like that all his life since it also has "human elements" in it. What I mean to say is he's not going around randomly calling him "green-blooded loser" or anything like that.

And sometimes it's hard to know what the writers are trying to convey and if they understand how it comes off. Kirk and McCoy can compare Spock to the Devil and it's all in good fun between friends, but when an antagonist of the episode does that it's bad and racist? Was Spock's reaction even meant to be about the ear comment or was it just because McCoy got all up in his face?

There's also the thing that there's a precedent where Spock actually somewhat reacts "positively" when the differences between him & other humans, ("And as for my anatomy being different from yours, I am delighted."— "Naked Time", & what's more, after the first time McCoy makes a comment about his blood iirc) but that doesn't mean he couldn't have gotten fed up with it or that it wasn't a defensive technique to begin with.

& I know Spock is the only Vulcan on the Enterprise and when you're isolated & not sure if you would get support it's harder to come forward with the problem, especially if you're trying to project an image of a Vulcan unswayed by his emotions & when everyone (& especially McCoy) is just waiting for you to show an emotion.

But Spock also doesn't have a problem with commenting on how savage & backwards human culture is, you'd expect him to be hitting McCoy (& everyone else) with how boorish it is to obsess over physical differences between species outside of immediate medical contexts. Of course, speaking about humanity in general might be one thing, but speaking about personal problems leaves you vulnerable, but on the other hand, he is able to bring up when he's been insulted in other contexts.

Ngl I also think it's kind of in a bad taste to make it the moment that makes McCoy realize that Spock's not being himself. The idea that Spock would only be unhappy with someone for a derogatory comment if he's not in his right mind and then McCoy is validated for it? It seems like Spock has a problem that's to be taken seriously, but then it's in the episode where Spock eats meat and sleeps with a girl he barely knows, so how seriously can it be taken? I don't know how I feel on this.

I'm sorry I don't have any kind of conclusion here. I've just been unsure how to interpret this scene & been kind of turning it around in my head.

When I was writing the previous post, I had a random thought, so I want to offer a different perspective I just thought of lol

MCCOY: You listen to me, you pointed-eared Vulcan. SPOCK: I don't like that. I don't think I ever did, and now I'm sure.

imho people are too quick to jump to the interpretation that Spock has always hated McCoy because of this line. That Spock was just silently suffering and never said that McCoy's words bothered him.

Which is literally so ??? to me because Spock will express his dissatisfaction.

SPOCK: Frankly, I was rather dismayed by your use of the term half-breed, Captain. You must admit, it is an unsophisticated expression. (What Are Little Girls Made Of?) SPOCK: Captain, I hardly believe that insults are within your prerogative as my commanding officer. (The City on the Edge of Forever) SPOCK: Don't be insulting, Doctor. (The Trouble with Tribbles)

are just a few of them. Spock typically says "don't be insulting" when Kirk or McCoy suggest he has feelings (or when Kirk compares him to a human), but as you can see from What Are Little Girls Made Of? he literally brought a thing that bothered him with Kirk up. Why would you think he just silently suffered McCoy's words? Why would he say he was bothered to his commanding officer and not his subordinate? That's not Spock.

Plus, when people use the line from All Our Yesterdays to "prove that Spock hates McCoy", why is

MCCOY: I wonder where Jim is. SPOCK: Who knows. We can only hope that he is well, wherever he is.

that precedes the "pointed-eared" comment ignored? Why is it ignored that Spock literally doesn't care about what happened to Kirk? That he just hopes that he is well. Why do you think McCoy got angry at Spock in this scene? Because Spock didn't show any kind of worry about Kirk. He just accepted that they couldn't go back. He gave up.

Now, when I got that out of my chest, this is the third time in 79 episodes (minus those McCoy didn't appear in), that McCoy used "pointed-eared" with Spock. The third time. One, in Bread and Circuses during an emotionally charged conversation, two, in The Gamesters of Triskelion, where Spock was like do you wanna mutiny (when Kirk, Chekov, and Uhura disappeared).

Why would Spock's reaction be at McCoy, especially? He doesn't say "I don't like you saying it, Doctor", he says he doesn't like the words. People - Kirk, Uhura, McCoy, random people - kept talking about his ears throughout the series, sometimes as a joke, sometimes as an insult, comparing him to Devil even (Uhura and Kirk both btw) or Midsummer Night's Dream's Puck. When Kirk tried to make him angry in This Side of Paradise, he uses "you're an overgrown jackrabbit, an elf" - both typical for pointed ears.

Humans always pointed out his ears. Always.

And now, when he's not in control, he's realizing that maybe he never liked humans talking about his ears. Not just McCoy. Everyone ever.

And it makes more sense to me that Spock's statement is in general rather than aimed at McCoy only.

yeah, anyway.