#people i know in real life who are now aware that my tumblr is a massive embarrassing mess

[trek-tracks]

It occurred to me, given your posts of Bones and Crusher: Is the CMO always the most attractive member of the cast? Bashir certainly keeps up the trend, Holo-Doc is more questionable, but we've got some strong contenders in the recent series. (M'Benga, oh man)

If the question is whether the Star Trek doctor is always the most attractive to me personally, the answer is yes, surprisingly (or unsurprisingly), most of the time (though a lot of it is that I just really like the characters, as Bones, Crusher, and Bashir are my favourites in their respective series).

I love the character of the EMH, but don't find him particularly attractive, per se (sorry Robert Picardo, but I think you're awesome). I don't know who it'd be on Voyager for me--there are several candidates, because, of course, I find many Trek characters attractive.

I think there's a case to be made for Culber, as well.

SNW is a hard call, because that entire cast is ridiculously good looking, but I think I'm somewhat more bi for Ortegas than for M'Benga. I have to stop accidentally sitting behind Melissa Navia at plays before it gets awkward.

But, to judge the attractiveness of the Star Trek doctors for yourself, I present my post of every doctor in a slutty v-neck. Unfortunately, the last time I updated it was in 2019, so before SNW, but if anyone wants to find me a picture of M'Benga in a v-neck I will not be complaining.

EDITED: Never say I didn't give you anything; here's the updated v-neck post now feat. SNW M'Benga

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Ah, kinks—something all humans have, especially those who read fanfics. I mean, who doesn’t love them? Whether it’s the soft, the spicy, or the downright unhinged, there’s always something that hits just right.

Let’s be real: scrolling through AO3, Tumblr, or Wattpad at 3 AM, looking for that one specific trope that scratches the brain itch?

Yeah, we’ve all been there.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

I mixed a bit of canon and my headcanons for Crowe and Sol in this one—yep, once again! This time, I kept it focused on just four kinks to keep it short and sweet.

Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Starting, I’ve noticed that TKATB fans have their unique preferences when it comes to Sol or Crowe.

For example, fans who gravitate toward Sol tend to enjoy the idea of him being dominant—whether it’s being in control of him or just envisioning him taking charge. It’s that mix of power and intensity that gets people excited. You know who you are, you freaks!

On the other hand, fans of Crowe are drawn to his reliability, his deep understanding, and his caring nature. He’s willing to guide you through anything, offering both emotional support and strength. It’s comforting, isn’t it? And yes, I’m a freak too—I get it.

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Naturally, I had to start with the man himself—Jericho, or Crowe, as he's known. Though the details are still unclear, he exudes a mysterious, almost savior-like presence. I WANNA KNOW SO BAD.

His style is effortlessly sharp, and his quiet confidence makes him instantly trustworthy. Reliable, steady, and composed, Crowe is the perfect support when life feels overwhelming. His charm is subtle, blending good looks with an alluring personality—irresistible, without ever being flashy. 

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Crowe as kinky?

At first glance, no. Not. To a stranger, he’s too put together, with not even the faintest hint of anything unconventional beneath the surface. But as you get to know him, that answer begins to shift. Slowly, subtly, he reveals a side of himself that hints at complexity—an edge just beneath his polished exterior. However, don’t expect anything extreme or overtly wild.

What he does reveal is never too much but always just enough to leave you captivated—and maybe, just maybe, a little curious.

✑ Vanilla (Soft Dom…) 

For Crowe preferences!!

He's the ultimate soft, warm partner. Like, you just know he's all about the quiet, comforting vibes. No crazy power dynamics or rough kinks—he's all about that steady, affectionate love. It's Vanilla, but in the best way possible, full of layers. He’s not rushing anything, just enjoying the little things, taking his time, and making sure you feel heard and cherished. 

When you're with him, it's all slow and gentle—he’s not here for intense extremes. His love is patient, thoughtful, and wrapped in warmth. Every touch, every word, is like a soft caress, just so deliberate and tender. 

And honestly? There's no need for anything crazy. Crowe's happy to explore your connection, build that trust, and just savor the passion that grows naturally between you two. It's the kind of love that builds and lingers long after. 

Now… Crowe might be a soft dom—nah he IS A SOFT DOM.

Crowe’s not the type to push you past your limits just for the thrill of it. He’s not into playing mind games or testing how far he can take things. No, Crowe’s power is the quiet kind, the kind that makes you feel safe without even having to try. He knows the real strength is in taking care of someone, not in forcing them into anything they’re not ready for.  

When you’re with him, it’s like he’s always tuned into you, always listening, always aware of exactly what you need. He’s the guy who doesn’t take, but gives—gives you everything he can, with a level of care that’s almost overwhelming. And even though he’s gentle, don’t get it twisted—he’s still a tease. He’s the kind of man who’ll leave marks on your skin, a subtle reminder that you're his. But it's all in the way he leads, in that steady hand that takes yours, guiding you through every little moment.  

There’s nothing loud about Crowe—other than his moans and whining. I SWEAR he has pretty moans.

He doesn’t demand anything and doesn’t rush you, but he has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. When he touches you, it’s with a confidence that leaves you breathless but also comforted. He’ll press his forehead against yours, his hand guiding yours down to your stomach, just so you can feel his bulge inside you,how much he wants you, how much he’s thinking about you at that moment. 

There’s no need for words—just that connection, that intense eye contact that says everything.  

But yeah, he’ll also let you think you have the upper hand for a minute. Let you believe you’ve got him cornered, like you're finally taking control… only for him to flip the switch, regaining control without you even realizing.  

With Crowe, it’s not about begging or pleading for pleasure—it’s about your happiness, your satisfaction. His version of dominance is the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket, soft and cozy. He just wants to see you smile, hear you laugh—moan, and whine under him, and know that every moment spent with him is full of happiness.  

So, if you're into a soft dom who values deep emotional connection, tenderness, and affection, Crowe’s your man! He just wants you to trust him, to let go and let him care for you. Let him be there for you in every single way, in every moment. 

And in that, he gives you all the security you’ll ever need.

✑ Praise (giving + receiving)

Crowe is all about Praise, and affection through words. Imagine him pulling you close, whispering in your ear while his fingers gently trace patterns along your skin. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, look at how well you take me, love. That’s my girl, always so ready for me, aren’t you?” His words make you feel safe, wanted, and cherished.

He doesn’t wait for you to ask for reassurance—he gives it freely, letting you know how much he appreciates having you around, and how much he loves seeing you smile. And when it comes to your body? He knows every inch of it like he’s got a personal map of your every curve and spot. He might even joke, “No one will ever know you like I do. I’ve ruined you for everyone else, haven’t I?”

Crowe has this vibe about him, like he’s always hungry to make sure you're feeling amazing, but don’t forget to show him some love, too. He thrives on hearing you praise him, especially when you whisper how much you need him, and how much he’s doing for you. The sound of your voice, the words you say—they get to him, melt him down until his heart's pounding.

Now and then, he’ll pull back, checking in on you, “You okay? Am I pushing you too far?” It’s not just about the rush for him. He wants you to be comfortable, to be in sync with him as he takes you through everything, slow and steady, giving you all that love. “That’s it, you're doing so well,” he’ll say, his voice smooth like syrup, making sure you know you're adored.

But here’s the thing: if you keep praising him, or if you’re the one in control, just wait. Crowe’s mouth? It’ll get filthy. AND I MEAN FILTHY. He can’t help it, don't be mean now...

I mean, you can. You giving him head? Taking his cock deep inside your throat, feeling he's about to cum, then you pulled back, teasing him. He'll say, "Please, my love, you were doing so good on my cock—please, please, keep going, I need that tongue of yours."

One of his favorite things is when you’re so into it that he can just forget what you say and speak directly to you, but in a way that’ll make your body react before your mind even catches up. Like, he’ll whisper, “God, you taste so damn good. Missed me, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don't you?”

His words drip against you, his eyes dark with heat, like he's speaking to your body, not even acknowledging your moans. “Such a good fucking pussy. Always making me feel so damn good. Want me to stuff you full, hm?”

And when it’s all done? Crowe doesn’t just drop it and move on. He’s got aftercare down to an art. He’ll guide you through it, keep you close, making sure you’re okay, settled, and cared for, getting ready to do it all again whenever you’re ready!

✑ Experimentalist

Crowe is the kind of man who never wants to leave any stone unturned, especially when it comes to experiences.

There was something about him that screamed experimentalist—like he needed to try everything, no matter how wild or unconventional. When it came to relationships, he was always up for anything, which meant he'd probably had more relationship experiences than most people you knew. 

His mind is open, impossibly so, and he had an insatiable curiosity that could never be satisfied. He’d never form an opinion on something without diving in and getting his first-hand taste. If there was something new to try, something out-of-the-box—Crowe was there, ready to explore. 

And honestly? He didn’t even need you to ask twice. If you suggested something wild, he’d be all in—his enthusiasm infectious, his curiosity never-ending.

However, he's pretty vanilla when it comes to experimenting, so don't expect him to go TOO hardcore. If there's a kink suited to his taste and he masters it? Oh, Babe, you'll feel it—so much in fact.

Take ropes, for example. Blindfolds? Handcuffs? Oh, he is intrigued. But, again, don’t expect anything brutal. He isn't the type to be into floggers or paddles; no, pain isn't needed for his skills. It is his anticipation. The slow burn of him carefully tying you up, not in a rush, but with the kind of patience that made every moment last longer. 

When his hands hovered over your skin, it wasn’t just touch—it was electric. He’d make sure to linger, let his fingers graze over every inch, just enough to make you shiver, your breath hitching in the air between you. It wasn’t about hurting you, not at all. No, it was all about the build-up—the moment when the ropes or restraints were placed just so, tightening the tension between you both until it was practically unbearable. 

And then? When you finally let go, it was a release so sweet and steady that it left you breathless. No rushing, no quick fixes—just a slow, fulfilling pleasure.

Adding on, Crowe loved the idea of restraint. Whether for fun, for art, or for that extra little spark of excitement, there was something about having you completely at his mercy. 

And if you ever flipped the script? If he was the one getting tied up? Like I said, Crowe will be just as filthy when he lets his guard down. 

✑ Dacryphillia

Okay, hear me out. I know what you’re thinking—"Crowe? He would never hurt me. Why would he want to see me cry?" And I get it, really. This is one of those wild ideas but just stick with me for a second.

You know how he’s all about emotions and deep connections, right? Get it?

He gets this deep fascination with what you feel and show, especially when it’s raw. Here’s where it gets interesting: Dacryphilia. Yeah, I’m talking about that thing where someone gets... well, aroused by tears, by the sound of you sobbing, the whole mess of emotions. 

So, let’s imagine this: You’re begging him, pleading for more. Your face is a mess of emotions, eyes watery, tears rolling down your cheeks. And yeah, he’s gonna ask if you’re okay because that’s the kind of man he is—always checking, always making sure. But if you keep begging for more? Oh, that’s when it gets dangerous. 

Each desperate plea of yours, each tremor in your voice, just fuels this fire inside him, an all-consuming fire. His eyes? They’re practically glowing, deep blue, and locked on you like he's drowning in you, in every little thing you’re feeling.

You can feel him there, so close you can almost taste his breath on your skin. His lips brush against your ear, a soft, teasing whisper sending shivers down your spine. "So desperate for me already, huh? We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet..." His voice is low, and dangerous, like he’s savoring every second of this.

You know he’s enjoying this. Every inch of him is hooked, and once he has you like this, there’s no going back.

Crowe’s could be teasing you for what feels like hours, driving you wild with a mix of pleasure and frustration. He’s pulled every bit of sensation from you, your body trembling with each orgasm, each touch—until you’re left aching for more. You’ve come undone on his fingers, his tongue, but now, you’re desperate in a way that makes your chest ache.

You need him, inside of you, filling you up, but he’s holding back. Just barely, he brushes against you with his cock, grinning at the whine that slips from your lips.

His fingers tease your entrance, and you can’t stop yourself from begging, voice shaky, "Please... Please, please." You repeated. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they fall helplessly. The emptiness without him feels unbearable.

Crowe tilted his head, the smirk on his face practically dripping with playful mockery. “Just please?” He dragged the word out slowly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me what you want, love. What is it you’re begging for?” His hand slid up your stomach, hand pushing down lightly as if testing the waters. 

A soft moan released from your lips as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker, more calculating. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

His soft gin stretched wider as you stumbled over your words, desperate and disordered, pleading for more. He could tell you were unraveling, and it only pushed him further, each whimper was like a small victory. 

“You’re falling apart, love,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need... just say the word.” You could barely focus as the desperation built into your chest. His control over you was unnerving, yet exhilarating. The tears running down your cheeks were a mix of frustration and need, a silent scream for him. 

“I need you, Crowe. Please...” Your voice was broken, but he was the one who was in control, studying the way you reacted like a willing experiment.

Crowe’s hand lifts gently to your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. He gives you a soft grin, his voice low and teasing. “Already crying for me, huh?” he murmurs, almost amused. His thumb slips past your lips, letting you taste the salty remnants of your emotions. "We’ve just started," he adds, a soft chuckle escaping him. 

Before you can respond, his hips jerk forward, pushing into you with one swift, forceful motion. The shock of it makes your breath catch, and Crowe can’t help but smirk, his eyes glinting with that dangerous, experimental gleam.

Every move, calculated and deliberate, is part of his twisted exploration. And you? You’re the willing subject.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol is described as a “stinky basement-dwelling yandere”—ngl, this alone made me laugh. He’s a quiet kid, the one who lingered at the edges of every room, observing, never quite fitting in.

Beneath his reserved exterior was a complexity most couldn’t fathom. He’s incredibly smart, with a sharpness that slipped through his words when he spoke, though he rarely bothered to. His talents leaned toward the arts, paintings, and writings.

And yet, at the end of the day, Sol isn’t exactly smooth. He was hopelessly inexperienced when it came to relationships. He gets no bitches, and honestly, he probably doesn’t even try. But in his inexperience is a certain rawness, and once you did get to know him, he’ll flirt or charm you. But before, he just watched and wanted.  

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Sol as kinky?

Yes, let’s not sugarcoat it—he is kinky asf. Of course, he is. There was no way someone as quiet and repressed as Sol didn’t have a horny side, one he tried to keep buried but couldn’t fully hide due to his love for you. 

✑ Switch (A Pervert…)

Now, about Sol’s... preferences. 

From reading his relationship information card and playing the game. He is a paradox, a Switch in every sense of the word. He didn’t neatly fit into the mold of “always dominant” or “forever submissive.” Oh no, that would be far too mundane for someone like him. He's not a standard yandere people.

Sol is a man of extremes, a “pervert” in the most endearing, shameless sense of the word. He believed in living freely, without the shackles of societal expectations or traditional constraints. Ethics, morality, conventional roles—he’d toss them aside without hesitation if they stood in the way of his desires.   

When he takes the reins as Dominant, Sol is the type to lean into theatrics, pushing boundaries with a devilish grin and that mischievous gleam in his eyes. He had a talent for making the experience unforgettable, for making you feel as though the entire world had melted away, leaving only the two of you. But when the tables turned, when Sol found himself in the more submissive role, he’d throw himself into it with equal fervor. 

He’d challenge you to prove your worth, tease and push until you stepped up to the plate, and then—when you finally did—he’d surrender so completely that it'll feel like a victory worth savoring.  

To Sol, sex and relationships weren’t just about power dynamics or tradition. They were a playground for exploration, a place where the only rule was to follow what felt right. With his “anything goes” mentality, Sol turned every interaction into a kaleidoscope of passion and unpredictability. 

As mentioned, Sol, can’t help himself when it comes to you.

Let’s say he has this thing—Voyeuristic Disorder, to be precise, a fancy word for being a pervert. Dosn't care to see anyone else naked. Only you he wishes to see. He was obsessed with watching you, whether you knew it or not. In public or private, it didn’t matter.

He just liked being there, lurking in the shadows, soaking in every moment. Watching you do the most intimate things, completely unaware that he was there. 

There was something so exhilarating about seeing you—your bare skin, the way you moved, the little things you did when you thought no one was watching. He couldn’t resist. The way your body reacted, the sounds you made when you didn’t know he was there—it was all he needed. 

Deadass, I’m shocked that the creator of the game never added a specific scene where you were taking care of yourself in bed—you freak, oblivious to him sneaking a peek from the window, his hand on his cock, jacking himself off, doing exactly what he does best. Watching. 

He didn’t let societal norms dictate how he expressed himself or who he loved. He was unapologetically himself—messy, chaotic, and a little too intense for most people’s taste. But for those brave enough to step into his world, you, well, if you picked him, that is.

Sol will offer an experience unlike any other: one filled with unrelenting honesty, unbridled passion, and a love that refuses to be anything less than extraordinary.  

✑ Praise (Receiving)

Sol isn't the type of man you’d peg as desperate for validation—at least, not at first glance. His sharp, confident exterior gave the impression of someone who had the world at his feet, who didn’t flinch under pressure or crack beneath judgmental stares. 

But peel back the layers of this supposed nonchalant and cool type of man, and you’d find a truth that was much more human, much more raw. Sol craved praise. Why? Perhaps it was the lack of it throughout his life. His track record for romance was, let’s say, less than impressive. Not because he lacked charm or good looks—he had both in spades—but because his overbearing aura and unapologetic eccentricities tended to drive most people away. 

They didn’t understand him, couldn’t see past the way he challenged conventions. He wore his "loser" title like armor. After all, who cared if he didn’t have admirers lined up at his door? He didn’t need anyone... right? Yet, when someone, such as you, did manage to offer him an honest compliment, something sincere, it was like watching a dam break. 

His confident smirk would falter for a second, his eyes softening, betraying the vulnerability he worked so hard to conceal. Sol wasn’t accustomed to receiving love—real, genuine love—and when it came, it hit him like a truck

✑ Masochist

The first time you noticed Sol’s tendency to endure pain, you’d thought it was just his stubborn nature. He’s always been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve when it came to you—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically vulnerable. But as time went on, you began to see something deeper beneath that tough, rebellious exterior. 

Sol wasn’t just someone who endured pain; he seemed to embrace it…? almost thrive on it, especially when it comes to you.

Sol is, without a doubt, a masochist. Not in the twisted, sadistic sense, but in an almost heartbreaking way. He’d do anything to please you, to earn your attention—even if it meant enduring the unendurable. 

He could never be a sadist. No, he loved you too much to ever inflict pain on you, physically or emotionally. The very thought of hurting you would make his stomach churn. Instead, he channeled all his devotion into being by your side, no matter the cost.

There were moments when his tendencies became painfully obvious. Like he gets into fights back to back, defending himself or you—for example, the movie theater bathroom or the Campus library (With or without.)

You hadn’t/have even been there to witness it—Sol hadn’t wanted you to see him like that, bruised and bloody. But when you found out later, he brushed it off with that crooked grin of his, the one that hid just how far he’d go for you. “It’s nothing,” he’d said, wiping the blood from his lip. “They deserved it for talking about you like that.”

Or that time with Crowe. It had been an innocent moment, just you laughing at something Crowe said, but to Sol, it might as well have been a dagger to his chest. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. He didn’t want to feel that way—jealousy mixed with self-loathing—but he couldn’t help it. Watching you walk away with someone else, even for a moment, was unbearable. 

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the pain; it was just that he could handle it, even when it tore him apart inside.  

And in the quiet, intimate moments, Sol’s masochistic streak became something else entirely. If you picked him willingly, He’ll trust you, and loved you, enough to let down every last defense he had. He didn’t just endure pain; with you, he could find meaning in it. 

A sharp bite, nails dragging down his back—he shivered under your touch, his body responding in ways he didn’t fully understand but didn’t question. For him, it wasn’t just about the sensation; it was about the connection, the way it brought him closer to you.  

Masochism, for Sol, wasn’t about pain tolerance. It wasn’t about how much he could take. It was about the way he found a strange, twisted kind of comfort in it. The pain wasn’t the point; it was the context, the giver—you. Sol would never seek out pain for its own sake, but if it was for you, if it meant being close to you, he’d endure anything.  

Even in the game, he seemed to attract hardship like a magnet, always the one taking the hits—physically and emotionally. Whether it was the bullies who thought he was an easy target or the way he seemed to hurt himself just to prove his devotion to you, Sol carried it all with a quiet, unshakable resolve. Because, at the end of the day, it wasn’t about the pain. It was about you.  

And he’d never stop. For Sol, loving you wasn’t just a choice—it was a part of who he was. If being close to you meant enduring the worst the world could throw at him, he’d take it all with a smile. Because that’s who Sol is. A damn masochist.  

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

✑ Somnophillia 

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Everyone could see this coming from a mile away—there was simply no other possibility. Sol, in all his twisted complexity, had long blurred the line between obsession and affection, his love taking on forms most would never dare to comprehend. 

Some might accuse him of holding darker urges, like necrophilia, drawn to the lifelessness of the dead. But no, that isn’t Sol. Despite his obsessions, there was a deep-rooted sentimentality within him—a refusal to let go, to lose. If anything, he had made it clear in his own hauntingly poetic way: he’d rather die with you than live without you. 

Yet, that didn’t mean his desires were any less unnerving. No, Sol’s particular brand of affection manifested in somnophilia, a fascination with the vulnerability of sleep, the beauty of your unconscious form. To him, those moments were sacred—your body relaxed, your mind adrift in dreams. It was when he felt closest to you, unguarded and free from the chaos of the waking world.  

Before your relationship, it started innocuously enough—or so it seemed. He’d find ways to end up at your apartment, invited by some pretense or perhaps even through sheer charisma. And then, ever so subtly, he’d lace your drink with something to make you drowsy, to keep you from suspecting as his fingers ghosted on you. 

You lay there, utterly still, utterly serene, your chest rising and falling with the kind of peaceful rhythm that seemed to still the chaos of the world around you.  

It was maddening, the way you looked so untouched by the noise that haunted him, your lips slightly parted, the barest whisper of breath escaping them. Every exhale was a siren call, soft and unassuming, but it gripped him like a vice.  

His gaze wandered, helplessly drawn down the curve of your cheek to your lips. They looked soft, and inviting in a way that felt almost cruel. He wanted to press his own to them, to taste whatever peace you’d found and see if he could borrow just a fraction of it for himself.  

But it wasn’t just your lips. His eyes traced lower, following the lines of your body, the way your clothes clung to you, hinting at the form beneath. He shouldn’t be thinking like this—he knew he shouldn’t. And yet the thought of you, warm and pliant beneath him, invaded his mind, unrelenting.  

He swallowed hard, trying to shake it off, but the more he fought, the more vivid the thoughts became. The sound of your soft sighs, the way you’d move under his touch, how you’d look at him—not like this, not sleepily and unaware, but awake, wanting.  

God, he was losing it.  

Sol leaned back, running a hand through his hair, forcing his gaze away from you for a moment. But it didn’t matter—your image was burned into his mind, and there was no escape. Watching you sleep was his guilty pleasure, though his guilt barely lasted long enough to stop him from pressing further. 

Once the two of you were together, the dynamics shifted, but only slightly. Sol’s obsession deepened, and the lines of consent became more of a gray haze in his mind. To him, love was devotion—complete and all-encompassing. And if you loved him, shouldn’t you accept him entirely? Shouldn’t you trust him to care for you, even when you weren’t awake to see it? 

He was careful, always so careful with you, so don’t worry! 

His lips found their way to the sensitive curve of your inner thigh, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second of this quiet moment. You stirred faintly, a sleepy whimper escaping your lips as the warmth of his mouth brushed against you, teasing and tender.

Sol’s hands gripped your hips gently but firmly; his fingers splayed across your skin to hold you in place. You tried to shift, your body instinctively responding to the soft, wet pressure of his tongue on your needy cunt, but his strength was unyielding.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in the stillness. One hand slid up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering for a moment as he marveled at the serene expression you wore, so unaware of the devotion he poured into every touch. “You’re even more beautiful like this,” he breathed, his words an intimate confession meant only for the dark.

To Sol, this meant everything. 

This was the essence of love itself—intimacy beyond words, a bond that transcended anything others could hope to understand. He wasn't like anyone else; he knew that, and perhaps that’s what made this feel so special. So sacred. There was a quiet possessiveness in the way he worshiped you, a deep yearning to etch himself into every corner of your being, to ensure no one else could ever touch the part of you that belonged to him.

And as you stirred again, a soft moan escaping your lips, Sol smirked against your skin, the faintest edge of smug satisfaction curling at the corner of his mouth. You might not fully wake, but you’d feel him—his touch, his adoration, eventually his cock. You’d know, even in sleep, that you were his world.

To be with him, you’d have to accept all of him. Even the shadowed obsession that came with it. 

[fellthemarvelous]

Deny. Defend. Depose.

It is clear to those of us that live in America, the only people we truly have on our side are ourselves. The ruling class has made it clear we don't matter to them.

Luigi Mangione was arrested and happened to have every single piece of evidence on him that law enforcement was looking for, including the parts for the ghost gun, inside his backpack (that he also got rid of in Central Park containing the Monopoly money???). Either he was trying to get caught or that evidence was planted. And when he was being forcefully pushed into the jail, he hollered back to the press about "injustice" and "being an insult to the intelligence of American citizens and our lived experiences."

The people have now turned against corporate America and the CEOs and billionaires are fucking terrified. Nothing the news stations are saying to us are changing our minds. The American people have finally united over this issue and there is no going back for us. Whoever did kill Brian Thompson (and theories abound on the game The Adjuster is playing because no one plays Monopoly alone) exposed the very real divide that exists between every day citizens and the extremely wealthy. Things were easier for them to control when they were able to divide us, but now that we are aware of how uncertain our future is in America and seeing just how little we matter to the people who take our money, we have realized that we have more in common with each other than the people who control every aspect of our lives. We are waking up.

There isn't one person in this country who hasn't been a victim to the predatory scam that is private health insurance. Medical debt is the leading cause of bankruptcy in America, and many of us are one ambulance ride or hospital stay away from homelessness. We all know people who have died because the insurance company denied them the treatment they needed or waited until it was too late for an approval of a medical claim to matter anymore.

Recently, I decided to be tested for autism and ADHD. Not life-threatening or anything, but my life is still in shambles and I want to know if I'm going untreated for something else. Before being tested though, I was informed that the insurance company (Aetna) has said that they were going to cover the full cost of the testing I was having (which was six hours of testing by the way). She even made sure several times that they were, in fact, going to cover it in full and they said yes.

The same day that Brian Thompson, CEO of another horrible healthcare company, was murdered in broad daylight, I received a call from that doctor's office with the woman telling me that Aetna was now telling her they never agreed to cover my testing and that they are going to bill me for $1600 (where the hell am I supposed to get that?) and she is fighting them, but considering our lives don't matter to the people who tell us what healthcare we are and are not allowed to receive, I don't think they will feel compelled to change their minds because they are bloodsucking parasites who only care about lining their pockets while I don't even have $6 lying around, let alone $1600!!

Corporate America leeches off our taxes. They take and take and take and we see nothing in return. They raise prices on insurance coverage and then deny us the very coverage that we pay for. They poison our food, price gouge our poisoned food, and then force us to pay for the treatment we get when the food makes us sick. Corporate America profits off of our hard work, our taxes, our health, our lives, our deaths.

I don't know if this will reach a larger audience or not, but I wanted to talk about it on Tumblr because this platform seems to be a crossroads for every type of creative soul. I initially brought up this idea on TikTok earlier, but I want to see if it can get traction in other places as well since I have fewer than 3,000 followers on TikTok (and I have seen a small few express interest in my idea in the hours since I posted the video.)

We're busy being lectured by politicians and the news media because while they are clutching their pearls at what happened to Brian Thompson, the rest of us do not give one single flying fuck about what happened to him. As CEO of a for-profit health insurance company, he signed off on denied claims and death for those of us who struggle to make it from one day to the next. The sicker you are, the poorer you are, the more they force you to struggle and pay. The love to deny coverage because regardless of whether we live or die, they already have the money we are forced to pay them.

I don't condone murder at all, but I also don't care that he was murdered because he was guilty of murdering so many more people in this country through legal means because it's profitable. The CEOs are scared and there are wanted posters with their names and faces popping up in places. Every CEO of every healthcare company is guilty of murdering Americans and they continue to go unpunished for it because "it's just business".

So (if you've read this far) all of this previous rambling is to say that I keep thinking about how I want to make an impression. I want to continue upsetting the billionaires and the CEOs because corporate America is full of murderers who are legally allowed to decide whether we live or die based on which outcome will give them more money.

I have thought about the idea of creating a wall/constructing a wall somewhere as an art piece or something (making a statement) that will somehow honor the memory of people who died because insurance denied them care.

I know I definitely want it to say something along the lines of "In memory of those murdered by for-profit healthcare systems in corporate America". Something blatant. Loud. Something they are forced to look at every single day. Somehow. The wall could have images of those who are gone, or names of the person who died with the name of the insurance company responsible for their death underneath. Just something to make it clear that we see them for what they are. Something to avenge those who were sacrificed so billionaires and CEOS and shareholders could brag about record profits. Something that shows the whole world that American citizens are waking up to who the real monsters are.

The Adjuster (whoever he is or is not) has fanned the flames of revolution in America. He managed to unite us in a way I can't even recall before. It's not over. We know what happened to Brian Thompson was just the beginning, and corporate America only just now realized how much we actually hate them. A single shooter has sparked an awakening in America that is starting to snowball into something much bigger.

So if there is anyone out there who might be interested in collaborating on something like this, please let me know. I know we are all tired and demoralized and we have no money. I want to make a statement though, and I love doing that through art or writing. Collaborating with other people who have been through this same shit will also probably help us unite even more.

This is a watershed moment in American history.

In the words of Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight,

"There is a future for us. One where we're all free. But it's up to us to make it happen."

[lukolathoughts]

Dearest Gentle readers,

I have been a member of Tumblr for a while without posting a blog entry. I suppose I have been getting the lay of the land and trying to formulate my thoughts. As most of you know, I am a tarot reader on YouTube and I also share my thoughts on X. I am a Lukola through and through and no amount of bullying, intimidation, nasty comments etc. will deter me from my mission. The last few weeks my trolling comments have increased exponentially from what I can only assume are desperate Jakehole's, (apparently I am credited for making the term 'Jakehole' up, I actually have no idea if it was me or not, but I like it) trying to convince me that Nicola is with Jake and Luke is with Antonia. I will come to my thoughts on this in a moment.

I do realise that a public tarot reader, I put myself at risk to exposure and criticism from these types of people. I am fully aware of that. What I underestimate sometimes is the sheer vitriol they come with. I am an empath also and I absorb a lot of a energy, not just from the fandom, Luke and Nic and adjacents, but from my own life as well. I am a teacher and I am surrounded by a lot of people daily. I have always used my television shows as a coping mechanism to detach from reality and 'switch off'. I never thought this time last year I'd be sharing tarot readings on YouTube about a real life celebrity couple that I was barely aware of in January 2024. But here we are. Bridgerton season 3 took hold of my brain and injected some sort of magic crack into it and I haven't been the same since. Don't get me started on the press tour. I've never seen anything like it and it was honestly like a spiritual awakening.

But I digress, I have been reading for a few years and learning the tarot cards and their meanings. I have watched countless YT videos by other readers and I came into this fandom watching the OG tarot readers of the fandom. I do not see myself as any different or special, I just read the cards as they come out. I also repeatedly say 'this is for fun and entertainment purposes only, I do not personally know Luke and Nicola'. And the fact of the matter is I don't know them, none of us do. I do not follow them around all day like some weird little psychic Martha from Baby Reindeer. I merely read the energy of the cards and I observe.

Why I love teaching English so much for me, is there is never a right or wrong answer in English Literature. It is up to your interpretation and all about reading the subtext of what is really going on. Now you might call me delusional, but I have always had an uncanny knack for predicting who the murderer in a story is before the end of a novel. It's called critical thinking. This drives my husband mad because he is very black and white and for him 2+2 = 4. Simple as. For me, I'm like wait a minute, what if... My brain is like a whimsical, magical unicorn sometimes, but I always go with my gut and my intuition. I will NOT waver on my intuition because I believe it is stronger than my rational mind.

Ok, so here we go. In my opinion haters!! Nicola is not now or ever has been with Jake Dunn romantically. My readings tell me he sees her as mother figure and mentor. Jake is clearly gay and most likely in some sort of relationship with Dylan. I think the Jakehole ship is a dead, rotting corpse. Nicola and Jake have reached the end of their agreement where she provides him with networking opportunities in exchange for some possible PR diversion to take the heat off Nicola's real relationship. William Tell is out. Luke is home from Rome, there is no need for Jake anymore. I also get the feeling from my readings that Jake is tired. Nicola is tired and Dylan is doing his best to set the narrative straight. I do not need tarot cards for this, it's blindingly obvious. As far as I know, Jake has no straight male friends. It is extremely rare in UK culture for straight men to hang out with all gay men and feel secure about that. It's just the way things are. I am not saying Jake and Nic are not friends, of course they are and I won't begrudge them that. I think he has a lot of genuine affection for her, but he also sees her as someone who can get him places and opportunities which we have seen time and time again.

And now we come to Antonia. I know she is only 23/4 and young and whatever. I have taught students older than her. But I will be truthful and say I don't like her energy. I don't like reading on her. I don't trust her little dancing self. I did have some sympathy for her in October as I had big crushes on boys when I was young, I get it. Luke is hot. But that pasta video she shared in Rome (a video she could have got from anywhere and shared an hour after she had seen Luke had been there) by her was mean, malicious and intentional to hurt the fandom. Her flouncing around with a shitty red bag always implying she's in Luke's vicinity is also callous and calculating and she's shared so much pasta stories now, it almost puts me off eating it. Almost, I love pasta. The biggest takeaway for me is she was not with Luke this Christmas and NYE. It is well documented where she was. We do not not know where Luke was, but we do know Nic was spotted with a lovely tan at the WT premiere. Could Antonia be PR? I sigh, because I think it's more complicated than that. In my readings, I do pick up a delusional obsession from her in regards to Luke. But she is convenient to bring up when they need her. I know the haters will call me delusional for thinking this and as my husband would say if 2 + 2 = 4 then it's 4.

But is it 4? Is it so straightforward as that? My intuition is telling me no, it's not. We have had no sign of Luke being anywhere near Antonia since July in Sorrento when he jumped on a plane and left two days early alone. All Antonia has are literally pasta videos and photos, that I am convinced, enraged Luke. She is giving me serious Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction vibes.

Let's address the elephant in the room. The comment by 'Luke's mum' on her private FB account to a relative. I think it's bullshit. I have three boys and I'm telling you now I would walk through fire if anyone touched a hair on their heads. I will go to prison for my kids. If I was Luke's mum and some 23 year old dancer had systematically tried to ruin my son's career, and she did folks, I would not be writing on a public page outing her as my son's girlfriend. It is all too suspicious and convenient. I could speculate for hours on what has happened, but you guys have group chats and your own brains for that. As one ship falls, another one rises in an unexplained manner.

In conclusion, yes I do believe Nic and Luke are together and this is a very important time for them right now. The silence is LOUD for me. I keep getting the four of swords for Nic. She is resting and taking care of herself in the way that she should. Luke is in a besotted Emperor mode. All is good. Until Nic and Luke specify otherwise, that is what I am sticking with.

[iscdisc]

Anyone who's familiar with my content on Insta / TikTok most likely already knows about this theory (But I guess you could consider it an AU of sorts??) that I have with 2012 Donatello post, "The Power Inside Her" (And yes, the only reason why I drew this / am talking about this is because of my previous post about Za-Naron, okay- Lmao) ! But because I haven't brought this to Tumblr, I'm talking about it again- 👍✨

Before I get into it, I want to preface this whole thing by saying that I fully acknowledge that this all could just be writing issues / faults with the writers and their lack of properly explaining anything or giving prior context to certain relationships / dynamics. I just want to get that out of the way immediately, since I understand some people brushing these things off as one of 2012's many notorious writing issues-

BUT.

I wholeheartedly believe that it's entirely possible that the Donatello we follow after the events of, "The Power Inside Her" is not actually the real Donatello at all and the real Donatello that we have been following before this episode legitimately perished. And let me explain why I say this- 👀

First of all, I want to establish some foundation for this possibility by pointing us in the direction of the episode, "Bat in the Belfry". During this episode, Mikey (Alongside Casey-) end up giving Wingnut and Screwloose temporary sentient life (With this only being temporary given the events of the episode-). Wingnut and Screwloose are previously established in this episode to be comic book characters / fictional characters, they were never real to begin with. Yet despite the fact that they have no prior existence physically or in any capacity of reality, the Aeon's power (Za-Naron's power-) was able to fully give them life and an established sense of self. We see throughout the episode that Wingnut and Screwloose fully believe that they're alive and well, not understanding when Mikey and Casey constantly try to inform them that they are just comic book characters and aren't actually real the way that they perceive themselves to be real. We also see the Aeon crystal / Za-Naron give sentient life to one of the villains from the same comic (Which is why I included a picture of that as well-), and we too can see that this villain acknowledges its existence, since it carries out it's normal activities as if nothing is strange about its situation at all.

I'm laying this as the foundation for this theory, because my main point with bringing this up is that the "fake" (you could say) Donatello would have no reason to question his existence or believe that he is not who he is. You know what I mean?

Another reason why I believe "fake" Donnie wouldn't question his existence is because the Aeon Crystal doesn't exist anymore by the time he comes into the picture "once again", which is another point that I'm going to get into right now.

The only reason why Wingnut and Screwloose became aware of their predicament / fully accepted the fact that they weren't real is because they were exposed to the crystal and its seemingly overwhelming energy. As you can see in the picture I provided, they became very distorted and deranged after being exposed to this. But with this "fake" Donatello, there's nothing Aeon related for him to be exposed to.

During the last minutes of, "The Power Inside Her", we see April use what was left of the crystal (Since she had broken it prior as a means of freeing Za-Naron / freeing herself from Za-Naron's control-) to bring Donnie back into existence. But that's exactly why I have this theory?? Not only is bringing somebody back to life an almost impossible feat, even for April (Which I know the show says that Donnie was simply molecularly scattered and not actually GONE gone, but I don't buy that for a second / I feel like they only said that to make the situation a little more "kid friendly". in my opinion, that dude perished, okay. LMAO), but I don't even think that the Aeons abilities are even capable of something like that. Returning life or performing resurrection is such a complicated issue, and I feel like the Aeons themselves would acknowledge that it's not as simple as just "bringing somebody back".

So because I don't think this is something that falls under the scope of what Aeons are genuinely capable of doing, on top of the fact that we've seen the crystal give sentient life to things that technically did not exist before this episode, I fully believe that the Donnie that we see get "brought back to life" by April is not actually him- Instead, this is a physical manifestation of how April remembers him being or essentially a Donnie that was "created" from her memories of him / experiences with him.

Point number three as to why I think this is not the real Donnie and instead a "fake" Donnie. April's relationship with Donatello drastically changes after this episode (At least, in my opinion-). Going back to when she "brought Donnie back to life", I wouldn't be surprised if she was envisioning all of the more positive interactions that she's had with him in the past and a lot of the attributes that she enjoyed from him, rather than the negative ones (i.e. Him disrespecting her boundaries a lot, him disrespecting her autonomy as a person, him stalking her, him constantly getting in between her and other people /primarily Casey but I digress- /, him feeling entitled to her as a person, him giving her pet names that made her uncomfortable and she clearly expressed that / Which this is kind of a niche example, but during one of the Xbox / PS3 videogame titles for this series, there's a dialogue cutscene where Donnie calls her his, "Chinchilla" for the first time I think?? But April very clearly expressed discomfort with that and asked him not to say that about her. Which it really pisses me off that he does it again in Season 3 when she's UNCONSCIOUS, and this game came out either during Season 1 or when Season 2 was airing- Like it's an old game. 💀 /, etc.), especially given that what caused her to break free from Za-Naron's control was Raph telling April to remember Donnie. During that montage, there were a lot of happier moments with Donatello.

I don't think it would be far-fetched to say that she essentially created her "perfect" or ideal version of him as a person-?? And I feel like this is heavily reflected through their dynamic post this episode.

April's not off-putted by some of his kind / caring gestures (Like the image example I provided above, such as him putting his hand on her back-).

During moments of intense grieving and stress, Donatello is giving her space and not hovering around her like he was more prone to doing in the past (In my opinion-).

Instead of it feeling incredibly forced by the writers, April being in close proximity to Donnie feels like a choice she's actively making or okay with. Prior to this, (to me) it felt like the writers would just put April in the same space as Donnie simply because they were pushing this romantic narrative between them. The numerous times that Donnie would have April in his lab during Seasons 1-2 gave off a vibe like he either pressured her to be there or it just felt difficult for her to decline-? Especially since there was a lot going on with her Father during both of these Seasons, and instead of that feeling like a reason she would want to be there on her own, it felt like an excuse to force her to be there- Does that make sense? Not to mention Donnie always being by her side coming across like he was crowding April instead of her actively wanting him there.

Donnie is more actively giving April her space at the same time too / not reacting when Casey is in closer proximity to her than himself. I'm not saying that this technically didn't occur before the aftermath of, "The Power Inside Her", but it just feels different now- I don't know how else to explain that.

I'm telling you right now, this moment from, "When World's Collide (Part 1)" is the first time I've seen them on screen acting this way. There has never been a moment like this one before, where April is joking around and laughing with Donnie and just being overall silly?? 2012 has never done something like this with these two on screen.

All of these instances lead me to believe that April (unintentionally) created her most ideal version of Donatello as a person. Taking away all the things that she didn't like or (rightfully) felt uncomfortable by, and only leaving the characteristics that she did enjoy about him. Which would obviously result in her having a much healthier / drastically improved dynamic with him moving forward.

There's also was only one moment that I feel Donnie was "weird" towards April again like he was in the past, but it didn't last long at all and it only happened once during Season 5 ("The Curse of Savanti Romero"-).

Another thing that I feel supports this theory is his relationship with Casey. From Season 3 to 4, it really felt like Donnie and Casey were forming a much better dynamic / their friendship had a steady progression. Sure, Donnie would still get annoyed with Casey from time to time, but it felt obvious that he viewed Casey as more of a friend / ally than a rival / "threat". Casey would also actively go out of his way to be around Donnie physically more, which I feel was a good sign of their friendship moving in a more positive direction. But then we get to "Tokka vs. The World", which takes place almost immediately after the events of, "The Power Inside Her" and it suddenly feels like Donnie's friendship progression with Casey just vanishes-?? Their dynamic feels like they're back in Season 2 again, minus the constant arguing about April (At least, from Donnie's perspective-).

A lot of the moments that we get with them during Season 5 kind of reinforce this for me. Donnie's reaction to Casey suggesting they get their hands on a couple of tanks during, "Scroll of the Demodragon", Donnie and Casey essentially arguing about how to deal with Kavaxas during, "The Forgotten Swordsman", Donnie's response to Casey in regards to his ghostbuster rip off inventions and how Donnie went out of his way to say everyone will get one except Casey during, "End Times"- Like, it really does feel as if their relationship regressed after the events of, "The Power Inside Her"- And while that does upset me, since as you all probably know by now I love those two to death, it does make complete sense in relation to this theory of this Donatello being "fake".

All of the progress and dynamic / friendship development Donnie and Casey went through? April was not privy to that. Like, at all. If my theory holds up and April did (unintentionally) "create" or manifest a version of Donatello from her memories of him using the remaining power of the Aeon crystal, then it would absolutely make sense why Donnie is treating Casey the way that he is during Season 5. I'm not saying that April didn't notice or acknowledge that they had a better relationship before the events of, "The Power Inside Her" happened, but she didn't know where that better relationship came from. So if April doesn't know, then obviously the Donnie that she (unintentionally) "created" wouldn't know either- Therefore, there wouldn't be a reason for him to have a better relationship with Casey / there would be no reason why he wouldn't continue viewing him in a similar way to how he did during Season 2. AKA, when he first met him / when Casey first came into their lives.

There are other parts of this theory that are definitely more speculative on my part, such as Donnie not having any memories of events that April wasn't there for- So for example, if the brothers are reminiscing about the Mousers predicament from Season 1, the "fake" Donnie would be confused and not know what they're talking about because April wasn't aware of that situation / probably only heard it through word of mouth if anything- Clearly nothing like this happened in late Season 4 to early Season 5 to support that kind of thing, but there also isn't any evidence to disprove it either. I just think it would be interesting for that to be one of the biggest tells as far as everyone else having their doubts about whether or not the Donatello they see before them is actually the legitimate one-!

This theory also makes me really sad as far as Casey and Donnie goes, because it really does feel like Donnie had to sacrifice one developing friendship for another. Like sure, his dynamic with Casey is all fucked up. but at least he has a better one with April now- 💀 Lmao || There could totally be some holes in this theory, I'm not going to deny that ! But so far, I think it kind of holds up and I just thought I'd share that today- 👍✨ Lmao

(There were so many more screenshot examples that I wanted to give, but I didn't know you can only include 10 pictures in a post- 😭)

Edit: I don't know why it took me so long to notice this, and I feel so bad because I do have a habit of mixing up the placement of certain episodes sometimes-! 😭

I just realized that my points with the episodes of, "The Super Shredder" and, "Darkest Plight" in regards to April and Donnie's relationship having a drastic shift are a little invalid, since I always forget that those episodes took place before, "The Power Inside Her"- I don't know how I forget something like that, but I did, clearly,, 💀 / However, I feel like you can glean some significant differences in how those two interact during, "Requiem" and "Owari" (Which I mentioned in my reblog post for this theory alongside screenshots-) and basically Season 5 as a whole ! So my point still holds up there at least-! I don't know if you could find anything significant with April and Donnie from the episode, "Tale of TigerClaw" personally, but maybe that one can count too? 👍 Lmao

[samara444]

everything i learnt during my break (ie all you need to know about manifesting)

hi guys, i took a months long break from tumblr. i used to be depressed, suicidal, constantly looking for results, having only failures, whining, being affected by the 3d every turn, crying almost everyday, to now not being affected by the 3d at ALLL, knowing my true power, and having it all easily conform in the 3d, i dont have anxiety/depression anymore and i feel so blessed, now i literally cry happy tears.

i used to be someone who used to spend my whole day on here, morning to night, looking for answers and the final "key" to manifesting/shifting, taking a break was much needed. here are the things i finally learned after so long.

dont be double minded // i would like to start by saying, see its a choice. we have 2 very distinct sides in this world, one full of lack, negativity, failures, sadness, losing, wishing, wanting....and the other of fulfillment, belief, positivity, determination, persisting, having, being, awareness etc. and whatever we choose, stick by it. i see so many people complaining and trying to say manif/shifting isnt real, and yes thats true FOR YOU in your reality. whatever you have choosen, a life of suffering or one of happiness through the law, please stick to it. if you want to say the law doesnt work, great, but if you have even a slight hope that its true and real, then give it a shot, and dont doubt, and with faith watch how it changes your life.

no circumstance can stop you // be it time, or the past, or trauma, every condition and circumstance only exist because we identify with it. the difference between a broke guy working a 9 to 5 that they hate, no purpose in life, debt and all relationships failing and a multimillionare, who doesnt have to work a single day in their life, life full of luxury and happiness, people who love them etc who probably doesnt even deserve their money but still gets to enjoy it, is simply their beliefs. believe better for yourself.

thinking from your desire and not of it // wishing and wanting and creating up fake scenarios is very different from knowing you HAVE your desire rn. the former is daydreaming, the latter is creation. you can waste years of your life thinking you're manifesting but its just us THINKING OFFF our desire. the results only show up when we HAVE right now. not to get, not to change the 3d but haveeee right now.

imagination is the only reality // we live in a multiverse, idc if people believe in that or not because its true for me, and every possible circumstance is possible and already created. already done. all our job is to HAVE it, and to CHOOSE to live in the state of having. and being fulfilled in our imagination instead of looking for in the 3d. if we look now we'll forever be looking, but when we close our eyes and know its done because our minds is the true consciousness, thats when it actually shows up.

stop manifesting with the intent of changing the 3d // physically trying to change the 3d is so hard, its so tiresome, its futile and useless, but being fulfilled and in the present moment, not worrying about the past or the future. just focusing on staying in the state of the wish fulfilled with our eyes closed is the key, dont worry about what you see with your eyes open. the 4d is the creator, the 3d will AUTOMATICALLY follow.

stop overconsuming/more techniques and enjoy life // you know already what you have to do. most of us know that living in the end means being the person who already has it. so does your dream ideal self do a million techniques trying to get? does you ideal self spend their whole day scrolling on tumblr looking for another technique? another magic affirmation? subliminal? post? that will fix it all? no. they enjoy their lives knowing its done. their wish is in the greatest hands and its all done. so really, stoppp STOP with the overconsumption, trust that you know everything that you are supposed to. everything is within you. stop searching for it outside.

i yap a lot. i love to write so dont blame me, but i wont make this post too long, my dms are always open for help/ or to make friends. ily guys, i feel so happy now being on tumblr, i used to read others success stories and now i have my own hehe so yes slay. bye

-love, sam <3

[thebreakfastgenie]

I'm not anti-vote or anything, but I think some of the liberals on here greatly overrate how much damage a bunch of bored kids (most of whom probably can't even legally vote) talking shit on social media can actually do to the Democrats. So what if they turn out braindead "Genocide Joe" memes by the thousands per week? No meaningful voter would pay attention to those, and anyone who does never had a vote worth chasing in the first place.

The problem is that it's not just a bunch of bored kids. It feeds a larger social media ecosystem. Remember "cancel culture?" Remember how that became a right wing talking point that conservatives whined about in mainstream settings? That has its roots on tumblr. If you ever doubted that fringe social media movements affect mainstream politics, 2024 should have been the final nail in the coffin. JD Vance has very signifcant (and, frankly, underreported) ties to online far right communities (known as "groypers" to the terminally online) and it absolutely influenced his campaign and now he's bringing those interests to the vice-presidency. Elon Musk (the owner of twitter) and Vivek Ramaswamy want to run a government office named DOGE after a meme. We're sharing the internet with the people in power; we're all playing with live ammo. It's often a ripple effect or butterfly effect, so it's very difficult to predict what memes and posts from "bored kids" will make it to real life politics and how they'll be transformed along the way. Because it's so hard to predict, we need to be aware of the possibility and act with care. "Genocide Joe" memes contributed to a general feeling of dissatisfaction with Biden that, intentionally or not, played into the Trump campaign's "everyone hates Biden" narrative. A similar thing happened with Hillary in 2016.

Elections are also won and lost on the margins. Campaigns spend billons on ground games that persuade a very small percentage of voters, but it's better to persuade that percentage than not to. If you don't know if something is going to make a difference, you act as if it is when the stakes are high. Is the drag from a constant negative social media narrative going to hurt a campaign? Maybe, and either way it's definitely not going to help, so it's better not to have it. 2016 and 2024 were both very close elections.

Liberals also tend to interpret bored kids' posts as statements of action. If someone says they don't want a Democrat to win, will try to stop it, and will tell other people not to vote for that candidate, liberals are going to object to that.

It's usually not "meaningful voters" who decide elections. It's low-information swing voters who make up their minds on the way to the voting booth. These voters are, consciously or unconsciously, often influenced by perceived popular opinion. A lot of people don't have deeply held values that they've spent time examining, but have moral compasses more akin to "if everyone I know thinks this, it must be right." The danger of social media is that is also distorts the meaning of "everyone I know." Your meme about how you hate Joe Biden finds its way into an algorithmically-generated bubble and someone says "gee, it seems like everyone I know hates Joe Biden, I generally trust my social circle, he must be really bad." And it's self-reinforcing. They start sharing it or making similar posts of their own and it spreads to their contacts in their own bubbles.

I don't think the exact mechanisms or limits or this phenomenon are fully understood yet because social media is still too new, but it's very real.

[missrosegold]

someone new

Synopsis: Post-war!AU. It’s the quite moments that Touya enjoys the most. Sometimes he still has a hard time believing they’re real. That you are real.

He has no problems allowing you to remind him of the latter.  

Word count: 16K

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem!reader)

Warnings: Mentions of post surgical interventions, Touya has hints of survivors guilt and some suicidal idealization if you squint, Smut and additional warnings listed below and on A03 so Minors or Ageless Blogs please DNI. This is rated 18+

Playlist: Omar Apollo - Evergreen (You Didn't Deserve Me At All)

Authors notes: Written for @shibaraki Komorebi collab! Thanks for having me love! Hope you enjoy!

Title is from Someone New by Hozier

**You can read it on A03 here if the formatting on Tumblr is throwing you off! I cross-post all my works onto my A03 account!

Sometimes Touya wonders how he got here.

It’s a loaded question and he knows as much. He knows exactly where he is, and he’s painfully aware of the series of events that led him to this moment in time – but he often finds himself struggling to believe it.

A part of him doesn’t want to believe it – a gnarled, still-angry part of what remains of his soul is convinced that it’s all part of some elaborate dream – one that will fade away and leave him alone and bitter once more as soon as he opens his eyes.

He falls asleep again and again, trying to prove his theory, but every time he wakes back up, he’s still in the same place:

He wakes up in your sun-lit apartment, more often in your bed, with you – always close by, never too far away.

It’s where he is even now: nestled into the soft sheets of your—no, the bed you shared together, even though it’s pushing noon on a Tuesday. Despite his body screaming at him to move, he can’t bring himself to get up just yet.

It’s not like it matters if he stays in bed anyways, he doesn’t have anywhere to be. He doesn’t have his court mandated therapy appointment until Thursday, and it’s not like he has a nine to five job like most people do. Christ, he can’t even leave your apartment building without you or a Pro-hero escort with him. (Who, ninety-five percent of the time ends up being Shoto, since he’s about the only person who wants to deal with him these days aside from you, his mom, and sometimes Fuyumi and Natsuo.)

He rolls over slightly and listens for you, trying to hear the tell-tale tread of your footsteps echoing through the halls, or the sound of you humming a gentle melody under your breath as you do your menial chores around the apartment; before it finally occurs to him that it’s a weekday and you’re at work.

He stifles a groan as he finally pushes himself up, and makes his way towards the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, flicking on the light and shutting the door behind him.

That was his biggest problem these days: not wondering when his next meal would be. Not obsessing over ruining his father’s life as he had done his. Not charring himself past the point of no return as a means of exacting vengeance upon the world of Pro Hero’s that had long since turned their backs on him. No. That was all in the past.

For the first time in his life, it was boredom that was getting to him.

That was a joke if he ever fucking heard one.

Looking at himself now it’s hard to believe that he was once a homicidal serial killer, with a rap sheet several miles long.

He looks different now. He fights the urge to snort as he turns away from his reflection in your bathroom mirror while he goes about his business.

Like a snake that sheds it’s skin every couple of years, he’s changed his form once again; though this transformation wasn’t up to him. He had no choice in the matter; what happened to him after the war was decided for him. His opinions be damned. (Though, if he thinks about it, he didn’t really give All For One and his fucked up scientist permission to piece him back together after he incinerated himself up the first time. The irony almost makes him laugh.)

He forces himself to face his reflection in the mirror as he begins the painstaking task of his skincare routine – burning turquoise eyes staring a little too long at who looks back at him.

The worst of his burn scars are gone, though the shadow of them remains. His two-toned flesh has been concealed by pale, raised skin, but he can still see the lines in his face from his first Escharotomy – a reminder of Dabi; always lingering, never fully gone, even if he wears a different face.

The rest of his body is like that as well. No longer is he marred by wicked burn scars and surgical staples; he is one even skin tone now. He is complete by all accounts, even though he feels anything but whole. The skin grafts aren’t perfect – they’re textured and prone to drying out, and the skin around his eyes always looks bloodshot – but for the first time in years, when he looks in the mirror; the person staring back at him actually looks like Touya.

It's not a perfect visual, but it’s still closer than he ever thought possible.

Truth be told, he still has a difficult time looking at himself in the mirror. It’s jarring honestly. He’d gotten so used to seeing the horrific scarring on himself, that seeing his reflection without them makes him feel like he’s staring at someone new.

The skin grafts he received at some point after his barely responsive body was all but dragged off the battle field, still itch sometimes, but he knows it’s all in his head. He can’t feel anything. He hasn’t been able to feel anything since he was discharged from the hospital he been taken to after he collapsed.

His memories of that time are hazy – he had been doped up on heavy narcotics and other nerve blockers as he was subjected to surgery after surgery in a desperate attempt to fix his scorched body – so much so, that he doesn’t know how long he was out for, or how much time passed while he was in recovery.

He remembers Shoto coming to visit him shortly after waking up from the worst of his many surgeries, and explaining that while the doctors had been able to successfully graft new skin onto him, (how his mangled body had been able to withstand another set of skin grafts was beyond him), they hadn’t been able to fix his damaged nerve endings, and had opted to cauterize the few that still worked; leaving him completely numb to any and all feeling.

Truthfully, he hadn’t cared at the time, he hadn’t been able to feel much of anything for years before that, and the little he was still able to feel was nothing but chronic pain, so at the time he has seen the news as a blessing.

And then he met you.

Shortly after that, he found himself cursing the fact that he couldn’t feel anything at all.

-----

He remembers the first time he met you.

After he had been cleared to leave the hospital, he had been taken to a heavily fortified psychiatric ward, eerily similar to the med-bay in Tartarus: all sterile white walls and armed guards. His room hadn’t been much better: just a mid-sized white box with a cot and a small window for him to look out of, though there wasn’t much of a view outside. He had no idea where the fuck he was anyways.

There he had started his rehabilitation. 

It was hell. The first few months he spent there, he adamantly refused to speak to any of the doctors or physiatrists who came to work with him. Some were more persistent than others, poking their nose into his past (like he hadn’t just aired his dirty laundry out for all of Japan to witness), and those were the ones he got pissed off at the most.

In another life, Dabi would have had no qualms about turning the doctors to ash, just like he had done to everyone else who had annoyed him in the past, only; he wasn’t Dabi anymore. He wasn’t sure who he was now.

It didn’t help he had been hopped up on quirk blockers that canceled out his quirk, otherwise he probably still would’ve tried to incinerate them. But he couldn’t, and for the first time in his life, Touya Todoroki was fucking cold.

Turns out his quirk did a wonderful job of insulating him against the ice he kept hidden inside his chest all along.

He supposed he couldn’t blame them for rendering him quirkless while at the facility. Hell, he’d render himself quirkless if he was a staff member, having to deal with someone like him. Footage from the fight with his father and the all-out brawl with Shoto had been leaked to the public, showing his quirk’s true power in all of its devastating glory.

He had been told the aftermath of both fights had done irreversible damage to the surrounding areas, and no one was sure if they’d be able to fix the carnage he had created.

Good. The bitter, angry part of himself thought when he had been inadvertently told of the news. Suffer like I am.

He had been kept in isolation most of the time as the doctors tried to figure out what to do with him. His family hadn’t been allowed to visit him yet, and for that he was grateful – he hadn’t been particularly keen on seeing them after his recovery anyways. It was still too soon to face them, and he wasn’t ready to deal with the inevitable aftermath of what was to come. In the meantime, he still refused to respond to any of the medical staff who came to try and work with him, outside of sarcastic remarks and biting jabs that made the whitecoats squirm in their seats, much to his enjoyment.

Curiously, during one of the very few times he did speak to one of the doctors responsible for his treatment; he found himself asking about what happened to the rest of the League. Of course, no one would give him any answers aside from the fact they were alive and they were in custody.

He was more relieved than he thought he would be.

More time passed, and he still refused to open up to any of the staff who came to see him, though he had become more vocal with them – aggressively so – to the point he started to notice there was a continuous rotation of people now; it wasn’t just the same staff he was used to seeing when he first arrived at the facility.

Turns out, even the professionals were still scared of him – quirk or no quirk, his fiery reputation preceded him.

Eventually, the facility couldn’t keep cycling through their therapists, so they had switched tactics. Whether it was out of desperation, or the fact he made so many professionals break down after a session with him, he wasn’t sure, but he can’t say he regrets his actions, because in the end, he met you.

He remembers the day you met for the first time.

He had been forced out of his little cell and taken to one of the treatment rooms where he spent most of his time outside his own room. He had been shoved in there before he could make a snarky retort, and then… he saw you.

You had been sitting on the couch adjacent to the spot where he normally sat during his apptioments. He had been so stunned to see someone new, he’d been rendered silent. You’d looked up towards him, and for the first time since he arrived, you smiled at him.

“Hey.” You’d greeted him casually. He hadn’t responded, still unsure of who you were and what you were doing here instead of the usual staff.

You nodded to the couch across from you. “You wanna sit?”

He sat.

He fully expected you to introduce yourself, but you hadn’t. You’d just leaned back into the couch you were seated on and crossed your legs, giving him a content smile as you regarded him casually.

A few beats of silence passed. You didn’t speak and neither did he. A few minutes passed, then a half hour, and then an hour. Finally, one of the assistants came to bring him back to his room.

He stood up to go but you still didn’t say anything. He’d allowed himself to be taken back without a fuss but, he didn’t think anything more about it. The next day it was the same thing. He was taken out of his room back to the same treatment room, and surprisingly, you were already there waiting for him.

You gave him a little grin and nodded to the couch opposite you, and just like the last day, he sat.

Once again, you didn’t say anything, which was unusual, since all of the other doctors had always started off the conversation, but you sat in silence across from him – the gentle smile never leaving your face all the while.

A half hour of silence passed before he finally broke. “So, what exactly is this?” he remembers his voice sounding dry and scratchy after weeks of misuse. “This the part where you try and butter me so I’ll talk to you?”

You’d grinned at his remark. “No.”

“No? Then what the hell are you doing here? Is this some new technique the therapist’s showed you to try and get me to spill my guts to you? Reverse phycology or some shit?”

“Nope. None of that I can assure you. Actually, if I’m being honest, I’m not even a doctor.”

That caught his attention.

“The hell do you mean you’re not a doctor? How the are you in here then?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

He remembers being completely caught off guard by your answers, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit intrigued by you. He remembers squinting at you carefully – taking you in – and for the first time, he saw you. Really saw you.

He could tell that you weren’t lying to him about not being a doctor. You were dressed casually, though you were still covering up a fair amount of skin – no doubt something they told you to do ahead of time. You looked more alive than the rest of the staff in this place as well.

He was loathed to admit it, but you were pretty.

He remembers you flashing him a knowing grin, clearly able to tell he’s been shamelessly checking you out, and it was enough to make him recede back into his shell; his walls going back up once more, as he rolled his eyes condescendingly at you.

“So what’s your angle then?” He’d asked you. “You’re not a doctor but you wouldn’t be in here with me if you didn’t want something from me.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was simply here to talk?”

That had gotten a laugh out of him. A short breathless laugh, but it was the first one he’d uttered since he’d tried to incinerate himself along with his father. It felt weird leaving his throat, foreign even, and he’d cut himself off as soon as the sound exited his mouth. So, he settled for snickering instead.

“Really now? You want to talk to someone like me? Why do I not believe that?”

You had sighed, and leaned forward so your forearms were supported on your knees, fixing him with a stern gaze. The intensity of it had made him flinch before he remembered who he was. He returned the look best he could, but it hadn’t deterred you in the slightest. Instead, you sighed again.

“Look I’ll be honest with you: the staff here filled me in on your situation. I don’t know what they’ve told you, but from how it was explained to me; your family wants you back home with them. They’ve made a bunch of deals with the authorities about getting you out of here and not spending the rest of your life behind bars, but you have to successfully go through rehab first. The reason you’re here is so they can determine that you’re not a threat to society or to yourself, but the staff don’t seem to be having much luck getting through to you, and they’re desperate. They sent out a request to bring in outside help and I applied. They picked me because we’re the same age, and well… no one else really wanted to. Turns out most people are pretty scared of you.”

“Fucking figures. And you’re telling me you’re not?”

“Of you? No.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not. I’m a little nervous maybe, but I’m not scared.”

That had made him pause. He’d swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling like it was packed with cotton.

“Why’s that?” he’d finally asked you after a moment.

You had gone quiet, seemingly mulling over his question before you finally responded: “I think you have a lot to say. More than you already have, and more then what people think. To be honest, I want to hear it.”

He had laughed again, but this time it sounded forced, even to him.

“If you watched my broadcast then you know it all already.”

“Oh, trust me, I think the whole world saw your broadcast, not just Japan. No one would shut up about it for weeks. But I think there’s a lot more to you. I think a part of you wants to talk to someone else – none of that scripted bullshit – and I want to talk to you. Honestly, I think you’re pretty fascinating.”

He had been very tempted as ask you if you had a thing for villains, but he held off.

“You must be crazy if you find talking to me enjoyable. The other quacks can’t even stomach me, let alone stand to be in the same room as me for more than a few minutes. Just how fucked up are you really?”

You’d grinned and wiggled your eyebrows mischievously at him as you leaned back and spread your arms out along the back of the couch. “The only way you’re going to find that out is if you agree to talk to me. I don’t just give up all my secrets willingly you know.”

It was his turn to go quiet as he thought about your words over and over in his head, taunting him. He hadn’t been in any rush to leave the facility and go back to his old house, even if his mother and siblings were waiting for him. On the other hand, this was the most enjoyable conversation he’d had with anyone since coming to this white hellhole they called a hospital.

He figured maybe he would entertain you for a little while. If nothing else it would get you off his back.

You were lucky you were attractive.

The sound of your voice calling out his surname brought him back to the present.

“Mr. Todoroki?”

“… Fine.” He had finally relented. “We’ll see who you really are, and for fuck’s sake don’t call me that. I’m not my fucking father.”

“What do you want me to call you then?”

“D—” he stopped short. Was that his name any more? Did he get to call himself that after everything was said and done? It was the name he had given himself when Touya died all those years ago, but for some reason, saying it now just seemed wrong.

“…Touya.” He finally muttered. “Just Touya.”

You had smiled at him and for some stupid reason, it made his heartrate pick up. Just a little.

“Okay then. Touya it is. It’s nice to meet you.” You extended your left hand, and he had clumsily fumbled around for a moment before shaking your hand. As soon as your hands touched, and he felt the gentle pressure of your hand in his own, he was struck with the realization that this was the closest to human he’d felt in God knows how long. The other doctors that would come in and out of his cell treated him like he was some kind of feral animal, but you had extended your hand to him without any shred of fear or disgust. 

Once you’d both settled back into your respective couches, he’d shrugged.

“So, what now then?”

“Now we talk I guess.”

“About what?”

“I think that’s up to you. The people who brought me in here didn’t specify what we have to talk about, but I am supposed to tell you that I can’t talk to you about the UA students, politics, current or former hero’s, or the League.”

Fuck. It didn’t seem like he’d be getting any answers out of you regarding his former group either.

“…fine. Ask away, I guess.”

To his surprise, you shook your head. “Can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I’m the one doing all the asking, then we’re only going to talk about things from my perspective, which isn’t the point. The only way this is going to work is if you talk to me first.”

That’d had thrown him through a fucking loop. Ever since he had arrived at the ward, all the doctors had done is talk at him, hoping he’d respond eventually. You may not have been a doctor, but you made for a better conversation then any of them ever did.

“…Well… Where am I supposed to start?” he’d finally asked, feeling like an idiot. To his immense relief, you’d simply shrugged.

Wherever you want. From the beginning maybe? It might be easier that way.”

He remembered swallowing hard. “Alright… from the beginning then.”

He remembers pausing and looking up at you, taking you in. “What the hell is your name anyways?”

You told him with a smile, and that was how it started.

For the next year, you came to see him almost every day.

He was taken to the same room where you were always waiting for him without fail at the same time every day. Even though at that point, he’d rather choke than admit it; he began to look forward to your visits – finding that they gave him a reprieve from his mundane existence at the mental ward.

He knew the doctors were always listening and recording everything you talked about during the hour you were together, but he found he didn’t care as much as you managed to keep the meetings interesting.

True to your word, you wouldn’t talk to him about current political events, or any news related to heroes (he knew better then to ask anyways), but you were open to chatting with him about anything that he wished to talk about, even though conversations were often hard for him to start – but you were kind and patient with him, more so than anyone had ever been to him for the majority of his miserable life.

He found himself growing found of you, the little smiles you give him when he’d sit across from you, bringing a hidden grin to his own lips, though he was quick to push it down, never letting his passive façade drop for more the a few seconds, lest his supervising doctors notice and assume shit, as they tended to do.

You may not have been a licensed doctor, but you helped him more than any of the ones who worked at the medical ward did.

There was a gradual shift in your relationship as time passed. Around the six month mark he could feel it, and he was almost positive you could too.

Your conversations had become more fluid, more casual. You were relaxed as you could be around him, and he found himself opening up more and more to you without being prompted. Most times he liked to keep the conversation light, but every so often, he’d tell you bits and pieces about his childhood – before everything had gone to shit. He never bothered telling you about everything that happened after Sekoto; he didn’t want to tell you about the years he spent on the streets, or his time in All For One’s medical center with the other children turned Nomu’s, and to his immense relief, you never asked him to.

In return for his openness, you rewarded him with tidbits from your own life growing up. You didn’t name anyone specific (he couldn’t fault you on that one), but you’d tell him about your childhood and some of the adventures you’d had when you were young, well into your teen years.

He learned that you were born an only child to your parents, raised in a caring household. All the idealistic, quaint things that he had wished from his own family. He’d told you as much one day, prompting you to laugh softly.

“Not always.” You’d told him quietly. “I had my own pressure on me when I was growing up. My parents and I fought a lot. We rarely saw eye to eye – they didn’t agree with a lot of choices I made when I was younger, but it was okay aside from that.”

“Still sounds like your parents were better than mine.” He’d told you with a bitter smirk. “My dad’s an abusive asshole, and my mom—”

 It was then he realized that he struggled for words to properly describe her. Broken images from his fire fight with Endeavor had come back to him, and he remembered his mother’s fierce determination to try and cool him down – to save him – even as the heat was melting her flesh. She had thrown herself into the fray to try and stop him from ending it all without a second thought for her own safety. Up until very recently, he would’ve described his mother as weak and submissive, always bending to his father’s whims, even though he knew she didn’t have much of a choice back then, but now… that description didn’t seem to fit her anymore.

“—she used to be a doormat for dear old dad to walk over when I was a kid… but she’s changed. She’s a lot stronger than I remember her being.”

“I saw bits and pieces of your fight with… him.” You’d admitted quietly then. “I saw the aftermath. Your mom, your siblings… they all ran in to save you.”

He’d fallen quiet at that, not truly knowing what to say, but when he looked up again, you had offered him a gentle smile. “I’m sorry if this oversteps a boundary but… they never forgot about you Touya. Even if it felt like they did, they never stopped thinking about you.”

For once, he remembered being grateful that his tear ducts were permanently sealed shut, because he suddenly found himself in danger of crying. The tell-tale prickling behind his eyes caused his face to scrunch up as he pushed the thought of his mom and siblings down. He had quickly forced his expression to go back to neutral, and prayed that you hadn’t noticed the switch, but if you had, you didn’t comment on it – another thing he liked so much about you. 

Instead, you asked him something that caught him off guard.

“Have you seen them? Your family? Since you were placed here?”

“No. Didn’t think they were allowed to come here. Why?”

“I think… maybe you should let them come see you – your mom and siblings I mean. Not you know who. I don’t think you’d be doing yourself any favours.”

“Why?” He remembers pressing you. “Have you seen them?” You’d shook your head.

“No, I’ve never met them, but I think it might help if you sit down with them and actually talk to them one on one. You must be getting so bored just talking to me day in and day out.”

“No!” he remembers saying a little too quickly, causing another one of those knowing smirks to creep up your lips. “I—no, you’re fine. I like talking to you.”

“Do you not want to see them?” you had asked him seriously. “Is it too soon? I understand if you’re not ready. That’s a decision you have to make on your own. No one can make it for you.”

“… I’ll think about it.”

Because in truth: there were things he wanted to say to them, and conversations he wanted to have.

In the end, it was you who finally convinced him to let his family visit. They had been cleared to see him at the faculty a few months prior, but he had always declined a visit from them, not wanting to see them so soon, since the last time they were all together had resulted in him almost melting his mother, Fuyumi and Natsuo.

There had been strict rules set in place for his family’s visitations: only one person could see him at a time so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed. they weren’t allowed to talk about outside events with him, and finally, under no circumstance was Endeavor allowed anywhere near the faculty. He was fine with his mother and siblings coming to see him if they wished, but he didn’t want his father to be anywhere near him.

He wasn’t ready to see him again so soon. Even after his apologies. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to see his father again.

Thankfully the faculty had minimal difficulty honoring his last wish, as it seemed that Enji didn’t want to be around him either – or maybe he was purposefully keeping his distance. Either way, the old bastard wasn’t around him, and he figured it was for the best.

Once again you had been right; seeing his family again had been as cathartic as it had been terrifying.

There had been tears (from his family – he still was unable to cry), and there had been a lot of long, overdue heart-to-heart conversations with them of things that should’ve been said long ago.

It had been hard to sit down and listen to each of his family members without feeling the intense urge to get up and run when the guilt became almost unbearable, but he had forced himself to sit through it all for their sakes (and even his own), and soon he found himself scheduling more visits with his family, as well as seeing you for your daily interactions.  

You never prompted him to tell you how his now daily visits with his family went, but he’d told you anyways – not what was discussed, that would stay with him – but he had told you about his favourite visit. Hilariously, it had been with Shoto; something he never thought he’d ever say.

He’d told you about how Shoto had brought him lunch from the outside the day before. It wasn’t anything special; just piping hot udon noodles with vegetables in pork broth. They had sat down in silence and eaten together, sharing a meal for the first time in their lives. Nothing had been discussed, and yet everything had been said.

It had been nice. Comfortable, even.

He remembered telling you with a soft smile on his face, and you had pointed it out, causing him to scoff and wave you off.

“It’s better food then the shit they feed me in this prison. Seriously, that was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

“Well, once you’re cleared to leave, I’m sure you’ll be able to eat all the udon you want with your brother.” You’d told him as you tucked your feet under you. He’d shrugged, brushing you off, but you were ever observant, and had called him out on it.

“Do you not want to go back to them once you’re able to leave this place?”

It was a simple question in theory, but it wasn’t easy to answer.

He’d shrugged again. “Don’t really know if I can. Not after everything. I won’t go back if he’s there.”

“I don’t think they’d push so hard for you to come back to them if he was.” You reasoned with him gently. “Where would you want to go, if not there?”

You and your questions. Most of the time they were harmless, but sometimes they really made him think. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had an answer for you at that point, and you had quickly switched the conversation topic.

At that point, he’d be lying if he said he was thinking about what he’d do once he was released. Truth be told he hadn’t thought about it much at all. To him, it felt like he’d be in the psychiatric ward for the foreseeable future. He had no real plans for what he’d do once he was out. Maybe he would go back to his old house with his family, or maybe he’d try staking out on his own since that was what he was used to, if he was even allowed to go off on his own. He wasn’t sure what he’d be able to do once he was let out – but he certainly wouldn’t be free, he knew that much.

Maybe he’d try and reconnect with the League – assuming that any of them were even allowed to be released from custody.

It still bothered him on some level that he had no idea about what happened to them after the dust had settled. He had been carted off the battle field before any of them, after his attempt at going nuclear failed, and had been in and out of the hospital and the physiatrist wing ever since.

When he had first arrived, he’d asked the staff about what had happened to the remainder of the League, but they hadn’t told him anything aside from the fact they were alive – but he wasn’t sure how much of that he believed.

The only one he’d really trusted in the whole building was you. He knew you weren’t allowed to talk to him about any villains or heroes, but maybe if he asked you discreetly, you’d be able to tell him something more than what the medical staff had. He didn’t want you to get in trouble, but the curiously was eating away at him. 

Finally, one day he risked it, and asked you if you knew anything about the fates of his former teammates.

You had paused after he’d voiced his question, and went quiet for a moment, seemingly debating on what you could say to him. For a moment you looked like you were almost about to tell him that you couldn’t say anything, but the look on his face must have been desperate enough that you cracked.

You had given the cameras in the room an unreadable look before sighing loudly. “I don’t know where they are exactly. I never looked into it, and it isn’t public knowledge anyways.” You told him gently. “What I do know is that they’re alive, and they’re in different treatment centers receiving help. I know they were beaten badly and some of your friends almost died – but as far as I know, they’re doing okay.”

You’d then sat straight back up on your chair and loudly proclaimed, “I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to say that much to him, right? Don’t take it out on him or me once we’re done here.”

It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but at least they were alive, and were in similar situations to him. It made him feel slightly less alone.

When the timer beeped shrilly, signaling that your hour was up, you had stood up to leave just as you always did, but before you could say goodbye to him, he’d quickly lunged forward and grabbed your hand, incasing it with his large cold one.

You’d stared at him in shock, as he’d never made a move to touch you once in the six months, you’d been visiting him, but before any of the guards could rush in and pull him off, he’d let your hand drop, but not before muttering a quiet “thank you” under his breath to you, before backing off and allowing the armed guard to escort you out of the room.

He distinctly remembers feeling the pressure of your small hand in his own, but he hadn’t been able to feel anything else aside from that. He hated it. He suddenly found himself hating that all of the nerves in his body had been severed, rendering him unable to feel anything. He couldn’t feel the texture of your skin against his own, or if your hands were cool or warm like his.

He was forced to admit to himself that for the first time since he’d left the hospital; he wanted to feel something again.

He wanted to feel you. But he couldn’t, and it aggravated him more than anything.

There was another thing he remembered distinctly about that day as you were leaving him behind: For the first time since you had started your daily interactions with him; you had looked back.

You had looked at him like you were seeing him in a different light.

He didn’t see you for a few weeks after that. When he had been pulled from his cell, and into the room where you usually met him, he was instead greeted by several doctors that had overseen his treatment when he first arrived.

He had asked them where you were, and when they refused to answer his question, he had immediately become hostile and threatening. The walls that were slowly starting to lower since he first met you went straight back up, and Touya turned into Dabi once more.

For the first time in roughly seven months, he lashed out (quirk be damned), and was immediately taken back to his room and put on lockdown. He wasn’t allowed visitors, and the only times he was allowed to leave his cell was to go back to the same room with the same doctors who poked and prodded him – asking him increasingly invasive questions, until he shut his mouth and refused to speak to them once more. One last act of defiance on his end since he still didn’t have use of his quirk.

When it had become apparent to the doctors and specialists that he refused to speak to any of them, they stopped taking him out altogether. He spent countless hours staring out the tiny window in his room, basking in the weak sunlight and taking in the menial views he could see from his window.

He had wondered where you had gone; if you had been forcefully sent away after he had asked about the League. He hoped that wasn’t the case – he liked you, probably more then he should if he was honest with himself – and you were just about the only person he could actually carry on a conversation with in this shitty place.

A few more weeks in solitary had him about to snap. He had reached a point where he was about to try and strike a deal with the overseeing doctors about bringing you back if he answered their shitty questions, when one of the armed guards opened up his door and guested for him to follow.

Once again, he had been taken back to the same observation room, but to his pleasant surprise; you were there waiting for him.

You had beamed at him and before he could think about what he was doing, he had crossed the room towards you in three long strides until he was standing directly in front of you. He had begun to lift his hand up towards you, only for his action to halted by a curt bark from the guard who was still standing at the door. You had shaken your head, motioning to the guard you were fine and sent him on his way. As soon as the door had closed, he rounded on you.

“You left.”

You had nodded, a small, sad smile on your lips. “I did, yes. Not really by choice though.”

“Why did you go?”

You’d barked out a laugh. “I’ll be honest, the supervisors weren’t too happy with me when I told you about the League. I broke one of their rules, so they told me I had to go for a bit.”

He’d narrowed his eyes, confused. “But now you’re back.”

You’d given him a slight smirk. You turned to sit down on your usual spot on the couch, but this time, instead of having him sit across from you, you’d gestured for him to sit beside you, which he’d done so embarrassingly fast.

“You’re very stubborn.” You’d told him with a light laugh. “From what I was told, you refused to talk to anyone after I left – heard you got downright nasty with some of the staff, and they put you on probation. They called me a few days ago almost begging me to come back. Guess they felt you made the most progress when you were talking to me.”

You’d given him a look that was hard for him to read. “Why did you snap at them?”

He figured there was no point in lying to you – you’d find out somehow. “Didn’t know where you went. Fuckers wouldn’t tell me, and they kept prying into my shit. Didn’t want to talk to them so they put me in solitary.”

He remembers you looking sad at his answer. “I heard you were in there for several weeks. I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to happen to you. Not on my account. I didn’t… I don’t want to be the reason your release got delayed.”

For some reason, it bothered him that you blamed yourself for what happened, and he reached out to gently take hold of your wrist. To his surprise, you hadn’t stopped him, or made any move to pull your hand away from his, so he allowed himself to rub circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, even though he couldn’t feel it.

“Not your fault. Don’t worry about when I’m getting out. It’s not like it really matters anyways.”

“Do you know why they were pushing you so much?” you’d asked quietly, still not making any more to remove yourself from his hold. He’d shook his head and you’d simply leaned into him, damn near making him freeze up in surprise at your boldness.

“They told me that they’re planning on releasing you soon – with restrictions of course – but they were thinking that you’d be able to leave here sooner than expected. That was before your outburst, but if you’re willing to just hear them out and answer their questions, it’ll help speed up the process.”

“They seriously think that I’m fit to send out into society again?” he remembers scoffing, hardly believing what he was hearing. “Pretty sure the majority of them think I’m an irredeemable sociopath.”

“They’ve seen the way you act around me and your interactions with your family. You’re not perfect, but you’re trying, and sometimes that’s all you can do.”

“You do realize I have killed people, right? I’ve maimed countless others. They’re… not exactly wrong about me.”

Surprisingly, you’d simply rolled your eyes at his statement, acting like he’d just told you the sky was blue. “Of course I know that Touya. I’m not overlooking what you did. But they—your family – are fighting hard to try and get you another chance, a fresh start. They think you deserve it, and they’re out there right now, day and night, trying to convince others that you deserve a second chance too.”

You had twisted your hand in his so your palms were kissing, fingers laced together, and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears as you gave him that damn smile of yours.

“You’re right: the past never dies, but that doesn’t mean that it has to be your future as well.”

That simple statement had stunned him. For the first time in a long time, he hadn’t had anything to say in response to you.

He remembers fighting an internal battle in himself, trying to find something to say to rebuttal what you were telling him. A part of him understood why his family was fighting for his uncertain future outside the psychiatric ward, but on the other hand… he didn’t necessarily believe that he deserved it.

What kind of life would he be able to have even if he was allowed to be released? He had never planned on living this long, as morbid as that was. His original goal had been to go out in a fiery hell-blaze with his bastard of a father, but clearly that hadn’t happened. He was known a global terrorist, the right-hand to the symbol of fear. His quirk was legendary for all the wrong reasons. How could he possibly be allowed to live on the outside? There was no way the rest of Japan wanted him released, let alone wandering around. What kind of future could he possibly be allowed to dream about? Did he even dare to think about it? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what he might do if he was ever allowed out of the ward from time to time, but now that his impending release seemed like more of a possibility; he was starting to think maybe it was better for everyone – and maybe even himself – if he stayed locked away.

Thankfully, you and your perspective nature had picked up his internal struggle. You’d leaned into him and taken his hand in both of your own, allowing him to breathe again.

“What do you want Touya?”

What did he want? Christ he wasn’t sure.

“I… don’t know. Honestly: I never planned on living this long from the get go. Everything has always been decided for me. I kinda figured that this would be the same.” He had admitted quietly, the gentle pressure of your hands on his own, grounding his rapid thoughts.

“Do you think you’re ready to leave soon?” You’d asked him gently, prompting him to laugh, a bitter, ugly thing, but you hadn’t flinched.

“No.” he’d admitted after a moment, scrunching up his nose. “Dunno if there’s much of a point. I’ll never be free. No matter where I go, I’ll always be a prisoner. What kind of life could I even have outside of here? I don’t know how to live any other way aside from how I’ve been living since I escaped that damn—” he’d cut himself off last minute, reminding himself that you didn’t know about All For One’s hellish medical facility he had woken up in, and he had no plans on telling you about that.

“I just…” he remembered breathing out hard through his nose as he tried to collect his thoughts, focusing on the faint heat he swore he could feel emanating off your hands and leaching into his cold skin. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if they decide to let me out. Dunno if I can go back to the old house after everything that happened, and I’m not sure if I could bring myself to live with my mom or my siblings after… well, you saw bits of what happened on TV already.”

He hadn’t needed to say it for you to know that he felt a tremendous amount of guilt towards his mother and siblings – especially Fuyumi and Natsuo – for nearly charring them in the heat of battle. He may have held onto so much resentment and anger towards his family for his mistreatment as a child, but he was also self-aware enough to know that it hadn’t been their faults, and they had tried to help him in the only ways they knew how.

You had been quiet as you let him vent to you. You hadn’t said anything for a while afterwards as you mulled over what he’d told you. Finally, you had nudged his shoulder with your own.

“I think that everything you just told me is proof enough that you deserve a chance to have a life outside of these walls.” You admitted. “What you said isn’t something an ‘irredeemable sociopath’ would say. That’s something a self-aware person says. You’re not perfect Touya, but Christ if you’re not trying. I can see it, your mom, sister and brothers see it, and I think a lot of your other doctors are starting to see it too. I think there’s a point, even if you don’t think there is.”

In that moment he’d been convinced that if he could cry, he would’ve been.

“Yeah? Well, thank you sweetheart.” He’d muttered into your hair, fighting hard with himself to try and keep his voice steady. “I have no fucking idea why you’re so nice to me, but it’s… yeah.”

“I think someone needs to treat you like a normal human being, because I don’t think anyone did for a long time.” You’d looked up at him pointedly, but he’d seen traces of something else in your eyes when you’d asked him, “Did they?”

A simple flat look from him had been answer enough for you, and prompted you to squeeze his hand. “Didn’t think so.”

You’d both lapsed into a comfortable silence aside from the steady ticking of the clock, and he’d known without looking up that your time with him was coming to an end. Now, he was dreading it more then he normally would’ve been. You’d spoken up again, but what came out of your mouth next, had shocked him.

“When you’re released… If you’re still unsure of where you want to go afterwards… I could… if you can clear it with the people overseeing your progress once you’re cleared to leave… Maybe… you could come stay with me.”

He remembered staring down at you, shocked. “Is that even allowed?”

You’d shrugged in response. “I’m not sure. I think you’re going to have to initially stay with your family for a while, but if you’re really having a difficult time staying there… maybe I could work something out with your family, as long as it’s approved. It’ll probably take a while, but I can try.”

He had a difficult time allowing what you were implying to sink in. How? How could you be so trusting? To even suggest the idea of someone like him staying with you? Forget if it was even possible or not, the fact you’d even offered in the first place was mind-blowing. Before he could think about what he was saying, he’d voiced his thoughts to you:

“I’m sure your parents would be thrilled, you bringing a villain back to your home.”

You’d simply given him a small smile. “I’m sure they wouldn’t like it… if they were around that is.”

“Oh. They not in the country, or—”

“We’ll go with that.”

Ah. Seemed like he wasn’t the only one with secrets. That was fair, you were allowed to have your own. He wouldn’t pry.

“Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t know.”

You’d both fallen back into the same silence from before. You were still leaning on him, his hand trapped in your smaller one, yet he’d made no move to remove it from your grasp. Honestly, he was shocked the guards from before hadn’t barged into the room and forced him away from you. The close proximity must have been violating a rule of some kind, and yet no one had made any move to separate the two of you, Maybe the medical staff really had been as desperate as you’d claimed, and were willing to let some things slide. Either way, he wasn’t complaining.

“You’re a lot colder than I thought you’d be… with your quirk being what it is and all.”

He’d glanced down at you, only to see you staring down at your intertwined hands. You’d squeezed the appendage again, prompting him to respond.

“It’s the quirk suppressors. Haven’t been able to use my quirk since before I got here. The quacks made it so I’m hopped up on suppressors around the clock, just in case. Turns out I’m pretty fucking cold without my flames. Must be from the ice side, but I can’t use that either.”

“Well, maybe if you keep being nice, you won’t have to be on them indefinitely.” You had tried to give him a hopeful smile, but he knew what the likelihood of that happening was, and you must have too, since you didn’t say anything else on the matter.

The timer had sounded then, signaling the visit was over. Before the guard could come to collect you, he’d quickly pulled his arm out of your grasp, and had wrapped it around you tightly, much to your initial surprise. He’d begrudgingly let you go so he could help you stand, sending the guard at the door a pointed look as he’d seen him casting an unsure look between himself and you. You hadn’t been the least bit bothered by the anxious glances the guard was trying to send you as you stood slowly and sent him one of your little smiles he’d come to expect from you.

“You’re coming back?” he’d blurted out before he could stop himself.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time.” You’d told him confidently as you’d turned to leave, brushing your knuckles against his. “Don’t worry Touya. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time since someone had promised him anything in a very long time, he’d believed you.

In the end, you’d kept your promise.

It had taken close to another year before he was allowed to leave the psychiatric facility (some minor setbacks had pushed his initial release date back), but you had come to see him almost every day at the same time.

Over that time, you’d grown exceptionally close to each other, even more so from when you’d first started visiting him initially. It was almost impossible for him not to grow attached to you – you were his constant source of company, his companion. You were the one person he could tell anything to and not have to worry about being scrutinized for his thoughts. You were his safe space – something he’d never thought he’d ever say about someone else – and once he’d worked out how he saw you; it had been game over. He’d fallen for you fast and hard before he’d realized it, and by the time he did, it’d had been too late. He was hopelessly and utterly drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

Surprisingly, you’d felt the same as him.

You’d openly admitted it to him one day near the end of his stay at the ward – even at the cost of possibly being prevented from seeing him again, since both of you knew you were crossing boundaries you hadn’t been meant to cross. He’d warned you as such, heart pounding in his ears at your confession, but you’d told him that he’d deserved to know with a simple shrug.

“Besides; if you keep up the good behavior and don’t have any more outbursts, you’ll be out before the end of the year anyways. Even if they don’t let me back after this – you can find me on the outside.” You’d told him matter-of-factly, boldly taking his hand in your own, before sending a shit-eating grin to the cameras set up around the room – knowing the doctors were monitoring every move.

He'd been certain that he could’ve kissed you right there and then.

Surprisingly, the medical staff had allowed you to continue coming back, even though it was apparent both of you cared for each other in ways that crossed professional boundaries. As much as the doctors were against how close the two of you had become, they couldn’t deny how far he had progressed since meeting you. He had gone from being the bitter, angry husk of a man, to someone who was still, and would always be forever scorned by the past, but overall, in a better place mentally.

Not too long after he’d sorted out his own feelings for you, he’d made you a surprising request:

He wanted you to meet his mother and siblings.

The meet up had taken almost a month of careful planning on the medical staff’s end, and had initially been met with some hesitation on both sides, but eventually you had agreed to it, and you’d sat down with him and the members of his family who he kept in contact with.

His father hadn’t been invited for obvious reasons.

The medical staff had allowed him out of his normal room so he could meet with you and his mother and siblings in one of the spacious sitting rooms normally reserved for guests. A row of floor to ceiling windows lined the far wall, allowing him to get a view of the outside gardens. He remembered the outside weather was slightly overcast that day but warm rays of sunshine would occasionally stream through the gray clouds, as you and his family slowly met with one another under his watchful gaze.

His mother had taken to you almost immediately, as well as Natsuo – both seemingly happy he’d bonded with someone who was relatively normal – Fuyumi and Shoto had taken a little more convincing. Shoto was more curious of you, while Fuyumi had been downright distrustful. She’d asked you right off the bat what your intensions were with him, but he’d seen right through her: she was concerned that you were somehow affiliated with the now disbanded League, or maybe even the Paranormal Liberation Front.

Thankfully, you weren’t so easily put off by her upfront questioning. You had been calm, almost amused, as you answered her questions; reassuring her that you were in no way affiliated with any criminal organizations, and how you were someone who’d been presented with an opportunity to help with his rehabilitation, and had taken a leap of faith when no one else would.

“Why though?” he remembered his sister pressing you. “Why would you want to help him even after knowing everything he’s done?”

You and him had shared a look then, and he’d known what you were thinking before you said anything.

“I guess I wanted to understand why things went so wrong.” You’d told her honestly, your shoulder brushing with his as you spoke. “I wanted to get his side of the story – the unscripted one. When the chance to talk to him in person came up, I took it. Everyone deserves to have their story told, and I wanted to hear his.”

“You’re a lot closer than just a support person to him.” Fuyumi had countered, making him bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snapping at her to back off with her invasive questioning, knowing that he’d only land himself in trouble with the medical staff overseeing their visit if he had any outbursts.

To your credit, you’d simply shrugged, totally unbothered by her statement. “Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you see someone basically every day for over a year. Same time, same place. For as clueless as he is at normal relationships, your brother can be pretty charming when he wants to be.”

He’d been pretty sure the only reason you were outright lying to his sister was to try and make him look better in her eyes, but he almost hadn’t been able to stop the laugh that threatened to escape past his lips. Almost.

His sister had almost deflated then. Whether it was from disappointment in being unable to shake you, or relief, she’d simply nodded; finally accepting your answers.

“Well… if he’s happy… then that’s all any of us really need, I guess.”

The rest of the visitation had gone incredibly well, not that he was complaining. Plans for future meetings had been put in place, and from there, you and him had gotten into a semi-regular routine of seeing his mother and siblings, or whoever was available to come.

He never wanted to admit it to you, but the visitations you helped arrange with his family made his transition from the psychiatric hospital to his eventually moving into his mother’s new house after he’d been cleared for release, far smoother than he thought it would’ve been.

Eventually though, he was proven right about his earlier assumptions on living with his family – or rather – his mother and his siblings, again after so long:

He couldn’t do it. It felt almost wrong.

He’d felt like a ghost, wandering up and down the halls, looking at the pictures that lined the hallways of his mother’s house; comprised largely of his younger siblings. He’d watched as they had slowly grown up in each one, filling him with sense of melancholy.  

He’d missed the opportunity to watch them grow up. They’d done that without him. That was time he couldn’t get back – memories that weren’t there.

He’d felt isolated, and no amount of comfort or reassurance from his mother could change that deep-rooted feeling in him. Not even Natsuo’s constant presence in the home made him feel better, much to his younger brother’s disappointment, though thankfully he understood. 

He’d lasted two months before he’d finally cracked and called your number which you’d given him immediately after he was released. You’d both stayed in contact, texting every day (under strict monetization from police tech sectors), but you hadn’t been able to see him in person since he’d gotten out, as you’d both agreed that it would be better if he focused on trying to settle into his new home. He’d missed you terribly during that period – not used to not seeing you for such a long period of time.

He'd called you in the dead of night, and asked if your offer to have him come stay with you was still open. From there, you’d gotten in contact with the authorities in charge of his release to try and gain permission for him to come live with you, while he had the difficult task of trying to explain to his family why he couldn’t stay with them any longer than he’d already had.

As expected, you’d been met with resistance on both sides, but eventually his overseers had come to an agreement: he would be allowed to live with you, but he always had to have a tracking monitor on at all times, he had to be on constant quirk suppressors, he couldn’t leave your building without you and a Pro hero escort of some kind, and finally, he had to attend mandatory therapy sessions at least once a week, as well as call his probation officer weekly and give them updates about what he was doing. If he failed to meet any of the rules set out for him; he’d earn himself a one-way ticket to Tartarus, no questions asked.

As much as he’d wanted to argue some of what they wanted from him, he’d agreed to their stipulations, knowing full-well unless he agreed to their terms, he’d be stuck at his mother’s for the rest of his life, and while he didn’t hate living with her and his siblings, it was too awkward for him to try and face them every day, knowing his past atrocities towards the rest of the country and even them, would continue to haunt him for the rest of his days.

He couldn’t pretend that he was still the same person he was when he’d burned up at the tender age of thirteen. He was different, older, harder. Things would never be able to go back to what they’d once been, and honestly: he didn’t want them to. He couldn’t go back to living with them after such a long time apart, because he had no idea how to co-exist with them normally.

Thankfully, as much as he knew it hurt his mother to hear him express his innermost thoughts, she seemed to understand how he felt the most, and had simply told him that he was always welcome in her home, and she still wanted him to come stay with her from time to time.

“You’re my son Touya. No matter how old you get or no matter what you do, you’ll always be my baby.” She’d told him gently just before he’d left her house, wrapping him into a tight hug.

Sometimes he found himself grateful he couldn’t cry anymore. He’d just wished this side of his mother had been more prominent over ten years ago. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently if it had.

He’d seen you then for the first time in several months when you’d come to pick him up. He’d managed to keep himself calm while you spoke to his mother, but secretly he was elated to see you again after months apart. His excitement over seeing you again had probably shown on his face, since you’d made it a point to keep yourself close to him as his brothers had moved his important possessions into your car.

It was as you were talking to his mother; he’d learned that you had moved to a new apartment building some weeks ago, following the news that one of Japan’s former most wanted was coming to stay with you. Naturally, the people in your old building hadn’t been pleased, so you’d forced to switch buildings to an apartment located near several hero agencies, where the residents hadn’t been as concerned about an ex-super villain moving in, due to the multitude of patrolling heroes in the area. The change had been frustrating for you, but it was the only way he’d be able to stay with you without anyone kicking up too much of a fuss.

Eventually you’d both been on your way back to your apartment with Shoto in tow to help with moving his things into your apartment. Your new place wasn’t massive, but it had two bedrooms and a decently sized living room and kitchen. Shoto had helped him set his things up in the spare bedroom before departing, but not before giving you his number with instructions to call him if you ever needed help.

As soon as the door had shut, he’d been on you.

He’d slammed you up against the door, causing a started yelp to escape your lips, as he grinned down at you wolfishly.

“What’s the matter sweetheart? Nervous? It’s not like we haven’t been this close before.”

You’d turned beet red as you shyly traced your fingers up his chest. “No, but we certainly haven’t done this.”

He’d grinned as he dipped his head down so you and him were eye to eye. “Tell me no then. Tell me you don’t want this, that you don’t feel the same as me.”

He’d listened to your breath hitch, watching with delight as the flush deepened on your cheeks. “You wanted me to talk right? To be open with you about how I’m feeling? Well, I want you, and I think you want me too.”  

You’d looked up at him through your lashes, reaching up to lace your hand around his neck. “I do.” You’d told him gently, and your simple admission had made up his mind.

“Fuck.” He’d muttered, just before he’d dipped down and captured your lips with his.

The effect had been instantiations. His lips molded with yours, breathing in your air, as his hand cupped your cheek, long fingers curling around the back of your neck to keep you close to him.

You’d slowly peeled yourself off the door and grabbed at the collar of his shirt, pulling him with you further into the apartment, and into your bedroom. You’d managed to slam your door shut, just before he’d pushed you onto your bed – his lips never leaving yours as he pressed you further into the mattress.

He couldn’t keep his hands off you as you helped him take your clothes off. He could touch you, really touch you the way he’d wanted to for so long now. Nothing was there to hold him back, no cameras, no guards, no medical staff dictating his every move. It was just you and him.

He’d almost froze when he’d seen you’d laid out bare beneath him, soft and glowing against the pale sunshine streaming in from your bedroom window, warming your frame. You’d beamed up at him, tracing your hands up his arms.

“You can touch me.” You’d told him gently. “I trust you. Just be gentle.”

Gentle. Now that was a word he was certain he didn’t have in his vocabulary – but for you, he’d try.

He’d traced your curves gently, listening intently as your breath hitched, or how a small moan would escape past your lips when he touched a particularly sensitive area. Finally, you’d reached up to tug at the hem of his shirt, but he’d grabbed at your hands, making you pause.

“It’s not… I’m not… the scars… aren’t much better under there.” He’d tried to warn you. You’d given him a gentle smile, cupping his cheeks with your hands.

“I don’t mind Touya. You know I don’t care about all that.” You’d smoothed your thumbs over the raised skin of his face. “I love you for you. Regardless of what you look like.”

Love. You… you loved him, didn’t you? Even after everything he’d done while he was an active criminal – you’d somehow grown to love him, while most of the world hated him.

He didn’t necessarily think he was deserving of your love, but hell if he was ever going to point that out to you. He’d almost been tempted to ask you if you were a little bit crazy yourself, but you’d even told him when you had first met that he’d have to find that out for himself.

Maybe you were – just a little bit – but that suited him fine.

A normal girl would never have been able to handle him anyways.

He’d allowed you to help him out of his clothes then, and to your credit, you hadn’t batted an eye at the less than perfect skin covering his body. He may not have been held together by surgical staples anymore, and his body may not have been a mess of burnt patchwork skin like it used to be, but the new skin grafts were raised and patchy – never fully settling properly. It wasn’t often that he got self-conscience about how he looked, but you were different.

You had run your hands up and down the length of his body and marveled him like he was some work of art. He didn’t think he was, but you clearly saw him differently. You’d kissed his marred skin, and if he’d been able to cry, he would have.

You had pulled him down onto your bed and climbed on top of him, much to his surprise. He’d tried to prop himself up, only for you to gently push him back down onto your mattress, giving him a knowing smile all the while.

“Let me take care of you.” You’d whispered to him softly. “We’ll go slow. Gentle. It’s just me and you now.”

It wasn’t like he’d never fucked someone before, but it had been a while, and it was just that: he’d fucked, never loved. He wasn’t sure if he knew any other way when it came to sex, but he knew that he didn’t want to be rough with you like he’d been with his past flings, and so he had relinquished control to you.

He had allowed himself to relax into the mattress as you’d hovered above him, lining him up with your entrance. He was already painfully hard, his body reacting to yours as soon as he’d kissed you. You’d bent down to kiss his throat, relishing how he’d let out a shuddering breath as you’d sunk down onto him. He’d cursed as your tight heat had enveloped him, leaving him boneless and shaking.

He’d brought your face down to his to kiss you as you started moving, moaning as you slowly moved up and down on his shaft. You’d knocked the breath out of his lungs as you whimpered against his lips, still moving your hips against his own.

“Shit.” He’d growled as he’d reached up to wrap an arm around your hips. “Fuck baby. You feel so good. You’re so good for me.”

“You feel so good.” You’d sobbed. “I want you – want to make you feel good.”

“You do. Fuck you do. I want you. I need you.” He’d grunted as he planted his feet into your bed, pistoning his hips up into your body.

“Fuck.” You’d cried out, as you continued to bounce on his cock. “Touya!”

“I’m here. Fuck I’m here, with you. I love you.”

He’d remembered your eyes blowing wide at his confession, just before your body had stiffened up, and your mouth had opened up into a silent scream, as your orgasm had ripped through you – your end triggering his own.

You’d both stayed there for a moment, trying to regain your breath, before you’d slowly separated yourself from him. He hadn’t let you go far – pulling you down to lay beside him, and wrapping himself around you as you nestled into the broad expanse of his chest.

“Stay.” He had rasped as he held you close to him, curling around your smaller frame protectively. He’d known what he was saying was nonsensical – he was in your apartment, you weren’t going anywhere, not really – but thankfully, you seemed to understand what he was trying to say without him outright telling you. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere Touya.” You’d breathed, placing a kiss on the side of his temple. “You’re home now. With me.”

That simple sentence had brought him more comfort than he’d experienced in recent memory. He’d passed out sometime after with you still nude and curled into him, sharing in his warmth.

That had been the best sleep he’d had in years.

After that, he’d fallen into a steady routine of normalcy with you. You’d go to work, while he’d keep himself entertained during the day. Normally, he’d open up the windows in your living room and perch himself on the couch near them, soaking up the feeling of gentle sunbeams on his face, and watching the outside world go by as he waited for you to return later in the evening. You had set up therapy appointments for him every Thursday, and either you or Shoto would take him depending on your schedules. Life settled down, and the outside world continued on around him, even though his world now consisted of your apartment and what he could see outside from your windows.

It wasn’t a coincidence that three pro heroes moved into the building roughly a month after he had moved the last of his menial things into your apartment.

He couldn’t say that he was surprised by the less then subtle way the newly reformed hero commission chose to keep an annoyingly close watch on him, but he was still allowed some freedoms with you, so he figured he could keep his jabs to himself for the time being. 

All and all, life with you was simple easy. For the first time in his life, he could say he was appreciating the little things he never could’ve before his life had turned into a living hell.

For the first time in a very long time, he had hope – something he’d never allowed himself to have before, because what had been the point? He had fully planned on taking himself out in the final fight against Endeavor… but life was strange, and it turned out that it had different plans for him.

While he couldn’t be sure what those plans were yet, they had brought you to him, and that was enough.

He had you, and in the end, that’s all that really mattered—

-----

The sound of one of his skin care products hitting the floor snaps him out of his reprieve. He blinks, and once again, he is standing in your bathroom with the sink running, halfway through the skin maintenance routine that you forced on him once he came to live with you. 

He swears under his breath as he bends down to retrieve the plastic tube with his right arm, only to freeze as he suddenly remembers:

His right arm is gone. He tore it clean off in the brawl against his dad.

He finds it surprising how often he forgets he doesn’t have both his hands anymore. Half the time he swears that his right arm is still intact because he can feel the damn thing, only to look down and see it’s still gone from mid bicep down. You once called it a ‘phantom limb’ and he thinks you might be onto something with how often he’ll go to do something with his right, only to remind himself the arm doesn’t exist anymore.

It doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. Natsuo had offered to set him up an appointment to get him fitted for a prosthetic, but he hadn’t made up his mind on it yet – finding most things pretty manageable even with the lack of his right arm – but he does have days where he wishes he had all of his limbs, and there are certain tasks were having two hands would be more useful than one.

His extensive skin care routine is one of those tasks.

Hilariously, it was one of the conditions of him coming to stay with you initially: for the first time in his life, he was being forced to look after himself.

He had protested initially when you had come back home one day with a plethora of different specialty products for sensitive skin – not seeing the point – but you had insisted that he use them to take care of the newer skin grafts, telling him that if he wanted to continue to stay with you, he’d have to start properly taking care of himself, or you would do it for him.

He had begrudgingly accepted, and he gradually incorporated it into his daily routine. Realistically, he knew he didn’t have much to complain about: he didn’t have many responsibilities as it was, and you had promised him if he kept up with it, you wouldn’t tell his parole officer that you weren’t forcing him take his quirk suppressor medication – one of the conditions of his release.

He grins inwardly to himself as he turns the sink off and pats his face dry. You hadn’t seen the need to enforce that particular rule, seeing how you were quite confident he wasn’t going to burn down your apartment building, and he didn’t have any plans to – lest he be forced to return back to his mother’s home.

Besides, after spending over a year feeling unnaturally cold without his quirk, he was in no rush to return to the weak, powerless state the psychiatric ward had left him in. Even if he couldn’t use his quirk to it’s full, destructive potential like he used to, just knowing that he still had use of his quirk intact was a comfort to him.

He makes his way out of the bathroom, flicking the light off behind him and, pads over to his side of your shared closet, stripping out of his sleep clothes and pulling on a loose shirt and baggy sweats, before heading out into the small living room.

If his younger self could see how he lives now, he’s sure he would’ve turned his nose up in disgust before calling him a sell-out, and a gnarled part of him still thinks that to some level, however; when he thinks back to how he used to live on the streets for close to a decade, he’ll take the easy, comfy life-style you allow him to live in your home in a heart-beat.

He used to wonder about where he would get his next meal – now his biggest inconvenience is that he’s bored whenever you’re not at home. How the times change.

He turns on the T.V. and sets it to a low volume as he moves into the kitchen and opens the fridge, pulling out a few miscellaneous items and setting them on the counter, before getting to work on prepping the food.

He doesn’t eat much, even now his metabolism is still messed up from the years of cumulative damage his body sustained, but he found himself making food for you when he first moved into your apartment as a way to keep himself occupied while you were at work. Most of his cooking attempts consist of cup noodles, and whatever else was easy to make, but every once in a while, he’d put a bit more effort into what he made, so long as you had the ingredients for it.

He curses to himself as he painstakingly prepares an easy meal of miso soup and yaki, his lack of a right arm slowing down his progress. Eventually he finishes his meal prep and puts his creation away as he waits for you to come home, moving to his usual spot by the window on your living room couch, before sitting down and indulging in some mindless reality T.V. show.

He watches the show absentmindedly, barely paying attention to what’s playing on the screen as he basks in the warm sunlight streaming in from outside. He glances over to his left to see his reflection staring back at him from a hanging mirror across the room, and has to fight the urge to flinch at what’s staring back at him.

Even after all of the love and tenderness you allowed him to experience while living with you, he still looked rough, and there were days where he felt it more than others. He may not have been able to feel pain in the normal sense, but his body aches constantly and there are additional issues he deals with daily. 

He’s painfully aware that he probably doesn’t have a lot of time on the earth. He’s in his late twenties, too damn early to be faced with his own mortality, but he knows there’s no use in trying to dance around the subject. With his body being what it is, he’d be surprised if he made it to fifty, but he knows better than to voice that out loud. The one-time he had confessed his inner thoughts to you, you had damn near burst into tears, and he found that he couldn’t stand to see you like that, so he keeps his morbid thoughts to himself.

The sound of the apartment door opening snaps him out of his depressing reprieve. He looks up, only to see you closing the door to the apartment, hanging your keys up and kicking your shoes off.  He gets up off the couch and pads over to you, greeting you with a little smile.

“You’re home early.”

You turn around to face him, smiling. “Yeah, I finished early today. Figured I’d come back and see what you were up to.”

He snorts as he takes your bag from you, setting it down on the small bench you had set up near your front door. “Not much, you know that. S’not like I can leave the building without you or Shoto escorting me.”

You roll your eyes, gracing him with a teasing smile. “How is he anyways? You talked to your family at all recently?”

He shrugs. “Not really. You know my phone usage is heavily monitored anyways.”

“I told them that – your mom reached out to me recently – she was hoping to meet up with you for lunch soon, and she hadn’t heard from you in a bit.”

“Ah. I don’t look at my phone very often. Tell her that I’m down. I’ll reach out at some point.” He nods towards the kitchen. “I made dinner.”

You beam at him. “You didn’t have to do that.” You lean in to press a kiss to the rough skin of his cheek, and he feels his heart speed up in his chest. Even though the physical affection you gave him isn’t anything new, it’s still amazing how much of an effect you had on him.

The fire that he keeps buried in his chest flares to life as you turned away from him briefly, but he doesn’t let you go far. He snakes an arm around your middle, pulling you back to him, causing you to look up at him.

“I’ve missed you.” He mumbles quietly into your hair. You simply wrap your arms around his torso and snuggle into his chest.

“Missed you too.” You tell him quietly. He swallowed thickly, as he allowed his hand to splay further down your back.

“I really missed you; I mean.”

You smile up at him gently, wiggling your eyebrows. “Did you now?”

“Mmmm.”

His hummed response causes your grin to grow wider. “Wanna show me?”

He doesn’t humor you with a response – instead opting to take you by the hand and lead you towards your shared bedroom with teasing grin of his own. He allows you to kick the door closed behind you, before dipping down to bite on the skin of your neck, causing a giggle to escape your lips as his hands wander up and down your frame.

“Off.” He grunts, tugging on your clothes. You smirk at his demand, pulling at the hairs at the nape of his neck to get him to look at you.

“I think you could ask me a bit nicer, right?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Please.”

“That’s better.” You smile sweetly at him, separating yourself from him long enough to shimmy out of your pants and strip out of your shirt, leaving you in your bra and panties before him.

He kisses the back of his teeth as he closes the distance between you, wrapping a muscular arm around you as he captures your lips with his rough ones. He feels you sigh into the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck.

It wasn’t often that he initiated physical contact like this – he not shy by any means, but he’s not used to having such close relations with another person. He’d been a loner for such a long time after escaping the hospital, and any physical contact he somehow managed to receive from woman he’d met in sketchy bars during those miserable years had never been meaningful or fulfilling. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

But you wanted him, and you weren’t shy about letting him know just that.

He had no problems letting you remind him of the latter.

He feels your hands travel down from around his neck to the bottom of his shirt, tugging on it. “Off please.” You murmur against his lips, and he separates from you long enough to yank his shirt off, before coming back to embrace your soft body with his own hot one.

He presses you back against the bed, gently pushing you down to lay on the mattress as he hovered above you. He dips back down to seal his lips with yours, as he feels your fingertips trail down the rough skin of his stomach until they reached the waistband of his sweats. He smirks as he feels you undo the drawstrings and push them down his slender hips, pushing them down low enough for his cock to spring free.

“Seems like you’re just as eager as me.” He sniggers as he sits up long enough to shuck them off, giving you a moment to unhook your bra and toss it across the room.

You don’t humor him with a response as you sit up to stroke his cock, causing him to hiss as your fingers wrap around his shaft. He lets you have your way for a moment before gently pushing you back down onto the mattress, causing you to look up at him quizzically as he shakes his head.

“Not today babe, let me do the work.”

He feels his heart pound in his ribcage, as a look of realization passes over your pretty features. A smile pulls at your lips as you open your arms and beckons him down to you, which he eagerly accepts. He nips and kisses the skin of your neck as he makes quick work of your panties, causing you to moan softly as he runs his fingers up the length of your dripping slit.

“God.” He groans as he attacks your lips again. “So, fucking wet for me. You want me, right?”

“Yes Touya.” You breathe against his lips, allowing your fingers to trace patterns into the scarred expanse of his back. “Always. Always you.”

He feels his destroyed tear ducts sting slightly at the sincerity of your confession. Even though you’ve assured him you only want him countless times before, it was something he never quite got used to hearing.

The entirety of his life before you was spent in fire and hardship. Kindness was something foreign to him, and being allowed to be vulnerable with another person was something he never even considered. He never thought he’d live long enough to be able to do so regardless – accepting that he destined to spend what was left of his life alone – and so the thought had never crossed his mind.

But he wasn’t alone. Not anymore. Not since you had unexpectedly come into his life.

He had you. Body, mind and soul, he belonged to you. He knew there was no way he would ever have the words to tell you that, so he hoped that he could convey his message clearly enough by showing you just how much you meant to him.

He taps your leg, getting you to wrap your legs around his lean waist, as he lines himself up with your opening. You thread your fingers through his soft white spikes as he slowly begins to push himself into your pussy, causing you to whimper as he begins to stretch your walls out.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He growls as he bullies his way into your tight heat. “You’re perfect for me. Just you – you’re the only one I want.”

“Me too.” You gasp as you dig your nails into his shoulder to ground yourself. “I’m so glad I got to meet you. S-so glad you’re here with me—”

Your eyes open impossibly, as he suddenly snaps his hips forward and drives himself home deep inside your walls, causing you both to moan. He barely gives you any time to recover before he starts moving. He fists his hand in the sheets beside your head as he focuses his energy into keeping his thrusts deep and strong, just how he knows you like it.

He grins down at you almost sadistically, watching as your eyes roll back from the force of his thrusts. “S’matter? Don’t tell me you’re giving up already?”

“N-no.” you moan as he gives you a particularly hard thrust. “I just—oh, fuck!” you wail as you feel him hit a practically sensitive spot inside you, causing him to grin wickedly.

“Eyes on me gorgeous.”

“You’re mean.” You huff, but center your attention on him regardless, causing him to chuckle, and reward you with another harsh thrust.

“I know.” He practically purrs as he shifts his weight to his knees. He grabs the meat of your hip, and starts pounding you harder than before, making you keen and fist your hands into the sheets as his pelvis brushes up against your clit deliciously.

“Fuck, Touya! I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum!” you cry out, warning him of your impending release, but it only makes him double down and fuck you harder, determined to see you climax before him.

“Yeah? Well, go ahead sweetheart: come on this cock. C’mon, c’mon; I know you’re going to, I can feel you squeezing me just right, so do it. Let go for me pretty girl, just let go.”

He feels your walls convulse around him and your back arches slightly off the bed as you climax with a desperate cry at his words. The sight of you coming undone beneath him is so hot it does him in a few strokes later, spilling deep inside your walls with a feral growl of his own.

You both stay like that for a few minutes, fighting to catch your breaths, before you unlock your legs from around his waist, allowing him to pull out of you. He pulls back to grin at the combination of your fluids that leak out from in between your legs, and you roll your eyes. He makes a move to the bathroom to grab you a towel, only for you to shake your head.

“Later.” You murmur, as you pat the spot on the bed next to you. “Come lie with me for a few minutes.”

He laughs quietly at your antics, but obliges your request, and climbs over you to collapse into the vacant space on the bed next to you, and you don’t hesitate to move over to him. 

“God, you can be relentless sometimes.” You pant as you curl up into his side. He simply snorts at your assessment as he drapes his arm around you protectively.

“Maybe. I am a villain after all sweetheart.”

“You were.” You manage to grumble as you make yourself comfortable, eventually settling on resting your head on his chest so you can hear his heartbeat. “You’re not now.”

“Yeah, well. Attitude never changed. Surprised you put up with me for as long as you did.”

“You weren’t so bad.” You murmur softly, tracing shapes into the rough skin of his stomach. “If I thought you were, I wouldn’t have come back after we first met.”

“Why did you come back after the first time anyways? I can’t remember if you ever told me.” He suddenly raises his head so he’s looking at you. You meet his blazing turquoise irises with a calm gaze of your own and wink at him teasingly.

“I’m crazy remember?”

“Must be, if you came to see one of Japan’s most wanted almost every day for damn near two years straight. But seriously, why?”

You’re quiet for a moment before you answer him. When you do, you shift your head slightly on his chest so you can see his face better.

“I suppose it’s because all your rage… all your anger towards the injustice of everything you’d gone through up until that point… it reminded me of myself, in a way.” You admit softly, causing him to quirk a snowy brow at your confession.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things you said on your initial broadcast—" you continue on before he can ask. “—like how there were a lot of shitty things about hero society you weren’t wrong about. Honestly, for a long time there, I felt just as pissed off with some of those so-called “Pro’s” as you. Some of them were only doing it for the money and fame, you could tell.” You exhale through your nose.

“But, on the other hand, there were so many good things happening to change those problems that you didn’t see because you were on the outsider.” You fall silent for a moment before adding:

“You just seemed so hurt, so raw with everything you were saying. I told myself there and then, if I ever got the opportunity to meet you, I’d show you not everything is as bad as it seemed. Never thought I’d get the chance honestly, and yet, one day, the opportunity to meet you face to face practically dropped into my lap. How could I not take the offer?”

“Was I what you’d thought I’d be?” he finds himself asking you, not completely sure if he wants to know the answer. You simply send him one of your glowing smiles that sends tingles down to his stomach.

“No, you were better.”

He snorts, shifting his arm so he’s tracing his warm fingertips up and down your nude body. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m serious. Even now, you’re doing so much better with handling everything then I thought you would. You’re resilient, and you adapt when you need to, but you’ve definitely changed… in a good way. You’re not as hateful anymore… you’re calmer, more accepting.”

“Yeah well, the shrinks have you to thank for that. Far as I’m concerned, they don’t do anything. I just see them so I can stay with you.” He grumbles, prompting you to giggle, before shifting you so you’re lying on your sides, facing each other.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, inwardly softening as he watches you lean into his warm touch, before dropping his hand back down in between your bodies.

“I know I’m not very good at these sorts of things, but… you know I love you, right?”

He’s hopeful that you understand. He doesn’t say it often to you, and he knows he probably should, but even after all the time he’s spent with you, that involves you showing him what a healthy relationship looks like, it’s still not an easy thing for him to say. Hell, he has a hard enough time saying it to his own mother, let alone anyone else.

He’ll probably always have a difficult time admitting it. Love is an emotion he’s never had a good understanding of, seeing how it was so sked for him a s a child. Even now, the concept is a foreign one for him to understand, but thankfully, you seem to be more aware of this than anyone else.

You find his hand with one of your own and lace your fingers together, squeezing it tightly.

“I know Touya. I’ve always known.”

FIN

[necromancer-at-abattoir]

HOW RICK PORTRAYED THE GREEK GODS AND WHY IT WAS SO IMPORTANT

So people are going to notice that a lot of my complaints aren't just in PJO but extend to media portraying Greek Myths in general. But I want to focus on Percy Jackson and not other media, so I'm going to focus on Percy Jackson and not other media.

Starting off.................

The way Rick portrayed the Greek Gods was important because PJO was the most read book series that heavily centered around Greek Mythology he pretty much destroyed their images at the time.

There's an entire anti Percy Jackson tag as well as an anti PJO tag for you to scroll through to see how Rick Riordan portrayal of the Greek Gods was terrible. Be my guest and treat yourself to it. Search it up.

There are also people like @alatismeni-theitsa, @margaretkart and @katerinaaqu to ask for correct information on Greek Mythology. So be their guest too.

Today, we have PJO fans running around having incorrect perceptions of the gods and flinging hate and abuse at the real Greek Gods while Greeks have to suffer through all this bullshit.

The torture is REAL. Just ask them.

I mean, you have people claiming that they are the CHILDREN of VIRGIN GODDESSES.

Artemis, Athena, Hera and Hestia don't have any demigod children. They can't have any demigod children.

If you really want to, call yourself their chosen champion. Not their child. It's disrespectful to Greek culture and religion to do otherwise.

Rick Riordan read about and taught Greek Myths in school, so he must have read the actual versions of the myths.

And knowing these, he decided to twist them into his terrible, inferior, crappy versions.

That man literally wrote Hephaestus, a rapist, as a poor guy trying to get a girl, oh, he's so sad and pathetic, and Athena's such a mean bitch for not accepting his advances even if she doesn't want it!

I'm not joking.................and I don't have words for this. I just don't.

Riordan doesn't really have any tact, does he? None at all.

And no, Greek people cannot get away from these horrible portrayals, because there are too many Percy Jackson fans clogging up the Greek God tags with their Rick Riordan written PJO versions of the gods, which is kind of terrible for people who just want to read about real Greek Mythology, not Percy Jackson. And this happens in real life, too. I mean, people using PJO as a substitute for real Greek Mythology.

Pro tip for PJO tumblr users: if you're typing about a god, use the Greek God PJO tag, like PJO Apollo or PJO Aphrodite, not just Apollo or Aphrodite, ok? Thanks for reading this.

There are many common misconceptions about Greek Mythology due to Percy Jackson. So, if you're not sure about something, please search it up on verified academic websites or ask real people-you can do this online too.

Now I am aware that Rick has the creative license to portray Greek Gods however he wants-

but let us as educated people all be aware of the fact that we should not always take portrayals of the Greek Gods in modern media depicting them seriously and if you want to read up on the actual gods, then read the myths and the Odyssey, Iliad etc.

Now, to name another shockingly appalling writing choice-

In the very first book, WW2 is atrociously used as a plot point

Yes, that's right-Rick Riordan, beloved author of a bestselling franchise for children and adults alike, reduces WW2, one of the most bloody and complex conflicts in history with a multitude of a reasons for its existence, to a fight between fictional demigods of the Big Three simply to have a reason for the Big 3 not to have children.

Do you actually know how serious this is?

Millions of people even today are affected by the WW2 due to generational trauma and abusive parents. WW2 killed millions of soldiers and civilians alike, and the Holocaust was so horrible that some people would faint just reading about what happened. I will not go into the bloody, gory details here, but if you still don't believe this, go search up WW2.

To have Rick Riordan portray it in such a callous way, to make a literal Greek God sire war criminals in modern history, when there were other methods he could have used to intertwine the mythological world and demigods and history.........it makes you wonder what was running through his mind at the time.

There were so many other ways he could have portrayed the prophecy-make it so that Big 3 children were constantly causing natural disasters and fictional wars in the mythological world, not the real world, and constantly dividing the cabins at CHB. Maybe they had their own war parallel to WW2. There were so many ways to do this- and none of them had to do what was ultimately done.

PJO WWII IS THE ULTIMATE INSULT TO THE GREEKS

What makes this even WORSE is that during World War II, the Greeks were in fact part of the ALLIES.

The Allies were fighting against the Axis powers, the latter of which contained Nazi Germany, Fascist Italy and Japan.

When the Nazis invaded Greece-well, it's never a good thing for a country to be invaded by enemies during a time of war.

At least 250,000 people died during the Axis occupation. And the country's economy and infrastructure were ruined quite horribly.

And generations of Greeks are traumatised because of this, even today. Not just Greeks-thousands of people. Millions of people all over the globe are still traumatized from this war, be it direct experience or generational trauma.

And to make ANCIENT GREEK GODS responsible for WWII is simply, totally and absolutely unforgivable on Rick Riordan's part.

To make the Greeks' enemies the sons of their ancient gods........no. Just no.

And yes, Hitler is a son of Hades in canon. Rick later changed it because of the backlash. He's absolutely disgusting.

WHY THE HELL ARE THE GREEK GODS IN AMERICA?

Now.........the Greek Gods are in the USA!

But..........they're Greek, right, which means that they should be in Greece! So why now are they in the USA?

Well.........here's Rick's explanation for it.

Apparently, the Greek Gods started with the fire of the Western Civilisation and then moved onto other places.

'Flame of the West' crap my ass. Search it up-there's this great article called the Whitening Thief. Read that.

Apparently, without the flame of Westernisation, there would be only darkness and chaos. As someone who's not part of a Western country, this is pretty racist to countries like mine and I'm pointing it out.

@margaretkart

@alatismeni-theitsa

@katerinaaqu

These are all good blogs to disillusion yourself with Percy Jackson and learn about what really happened in Greek Mythology.

And I just want to say-Percy Jackson is an ok start for venturing into Greek Mythology as long as you've read up some basic background beforehand, but-

But-

Do NOT, under ANY circumstances whatsoever, take RICK RIORDAN'S portrayal of the Greek Gods as the REAL Greek Gods.

Never do that. That is the one thing that must not be done.

Hera doesn't just love perfect families. She literally lives in the most dysfunctional family to ever exist. And she loves you if you try. She really does.

Hades would not threaten to eternally torture literal children just because of what their parents did to him. His literal job is to uphold justice in the underworld, and sending a child to Tartarus just because her father angered him and he couldn't punish the father isn't justice now, is it?

Ares loves his children and as for why Rick made him hate them-

Rick has a hate boner against the war god, that I will swear on. Read this post and the explanation for why Rick shouldn't have done it.

And the gods are actively depicted as cruel, neglectful, abusive parents, when in the myths they are quite the opposite.

Real Aphrodite loves her son Aeneas and frequently comes to his aid on the battlefield. She also tells him to not marry a woman (TO GIVE UP LOVE, HER LITERAL DOMAIN) so that he can fulfil his destiny of becoming a king.

Real Ares loves all his children. He tries to avenge his son Cycnus when Heracles kills him with good reason for being a cruel tyrant-and they were even riding chariots together when Heracles came across them. He avenged his daughter even at the cost of being punished by Poseidon and Zeus, neither of whom liked him.

Now, what I want to tell you is that the PJO Greek Gods are Rick's interpretation of them.

An interpretation of a Greek God by a modern author (who isn't Greek, by the way, please take note) is not the same as the real Greek God. Please understand this and accordingly adjust your views.

This also goes for Madeline Miller, Rachel Smythe, etc.

And lastly, one of the most ironic things is that though Richard uses the Greek Gods in his books, he has never ever added a single Greek character in it.

I'm talking about a modern Greek demigod who comes from Greece. Imagine them teaching the other demigods Modern Greek and Greek culture, language and traditions!

It's very ironic that he includes Chinese, African and Native American culture in his works and then turns around and pretend that Greek culture doesn't exist.

The demigods are in Athens, but for how much time before they go back to America? Barely any at all. And nothing learnt about culture while they're there.

(No hate to his already shitty representation. I'm merely making a point that there should have been a Greek character in a book that heavily centers on Greek Gods and their children, even if it's in America.)

RICK DOESN'T USE GREEK CULTURE OR RELIGION AND IN FACT INSULTS GREECE IN HIS WORKS

So, if you've read the title, let me tell you something-

Do you know that Greek Gods are still worshipped?

Some of you do, some of you don't, but let me tell you, they are still worshipped.

And accordingly, you must respect them and their worshippers, just like you would do for Christians. You cannot maliciously ridicule and condemn Hellenistic Pagans who worship Greek Gods just because they are a minority.

And if you've read the myths and think that the Greek Gods being cruel......

They're not, actually. I mean, yes, you think they're cruel, but most of the myths aren't taken literally by Hellenistic Pagans who worship Greek Gods.

What the Greek Gods do is supposed to be symbolic.

Hades kidnapping Persephone symbolises death ripping children from their grieving parents' arms. It's an explanation for the seasons and it finally represents the fact that daughters could be given away by their fathers with the mother having no say in it whatsoever.

Demeter's grief and her actually being able to do something about her daughter's marriage and Persephone being returned to her is supposed to be a comforting tale for grieving mothers who have lost their daughter.

Artemis' cruelty towards certain people? It represents the cruelty of nature towards humans and what it will do to humans if they provoke it.

Zeus' infidelity and abuse of his power? Well, it represents what kings do. Zeus represented the kings of Ancient Greece, and kings abused their power and had many mistresses besides having a wife.

Many Greek kings also claimed to sons of Zeus or descendants of the gods, so it the idea that Zeus had many affairs with ladies and princesses of royal lineages was conceived.

The link above provides many good reasons for why the Greeks wrote Zeus having many affairs with mortal women, so check it out.

Also, Zeus is symbolic of storms. Storms are volatile and raging, and so was Zeus at times. He was a god of storms and as such symbolised them.

Hera punishing the mistresses and children in a jealous rage to bother Zeus? That's what queens did back in the day since they couldn't directly punish their husbands.

Dionysus being charming and fun but also being mad and wild? Well, he represents breaking away from social norms and going fully wild. Also, wine can make people fun and charming, but at the same time, it can turn people into mad, raging creatures.

The point is, most of what the Greek Gods did was symbolic to their domains. And no, contrary to popular thought, Greeks did not live in fear of their Gods striking them down every moment. In fact, many of them genuinely devotionally loved their gods.

And Greek Gods themselves are very kind and benevolent to their devotees, even today, as long as you don't provoke or seriously insult them. Just ask Hellenistic Pagans who are their devotees and you'll be surprised at the results. I'm serious.

The problem here is that we're trying to moralize divinity.

According to the Greeks, gods weren't humans. They were modelled after humans, but they were above humans and human flaws.

And the Abrahamic gods do terrible things too, but do we mock them? No, we don't, because their worshippers say that they are above humans and human flaws, so similarly, the Greek Gods are above humans and our flaws.

CONCLUSION

And no one cares about the fact that a guy is objectifying and making money off a culture all the while removing its significance and turning it into a joke.

Even though Greeks have a millennia old and rich culture, people are always bastardizing it. Non-Greeks really must stop doing this. It's very culturally disrespectful.

I've also seen grown adults saying that the Greek Gods are American so they're allowed to do what they want with them now, and that's absolutely disgusting. They literally stated that the Greek Gods were American now, right out in the open on Twitter.

Let me add one last thing here.

Rick Riordan has a series called Trials of Apollo in which Apollo is cast down to Earth as a human for the third time to defeat Python.

What I want to talk about here is Apollo's human name-Lester Papadopoulos.

Papadopoulos is a common Greek Christian surname that means 'son of a priest'. One of Apollo's domains in prophecy and he has many priests, so maybe this is a reference to that.

But what is most upsetting is that this name is used for comedy.

It's belittled, laughed at and ridiculed for its longevity and hard pronunciation when it is in fact a very normal Greek surname. Even if it's not an American surname, even if it doesn't sound normal and sounds ridiculous to you, it's not ridiculous to others and you should respect it.

Can you imagine how Greek people with that last name read the books and felt bad about their last name? Or felt furious. I know that I would be FURIOUS if my last name was used like that.

And the fact is that Papadopoulos isn't even that hard to pronounce! It's literally just 5 syllables that you can repeat a few times until it doesn't twist your tongue.

And if you can't repeat this simple name, then you need to go back to kindergarten. Hell, go back to preschool even.

And there are people who have the audacity to say that the Greek Gods belong to America and are American. Grown adults, actually, on Twitter, no less. Tweeting it for the whole world to see their absolute foolishness and audacity.

They're pretty tactless, huh?

The Greek Gods were and always will be GREEK. Foreigners are not their rightful descendants-the Greeks are (Greek immigrants included). I mean...........this is bizzarre.

To conclude, (really conclude this time) though it's a series heavily entwined with Greek Gods, the only Greek thing about the series is the Gods. There's no Greek culture, religion or language, and even the Greek Gods are heavily Americanised, which is pretty disappointing.

(Side note: If you think anything I've said is wrong, tell me. I'll correct it immediately.)

@fandomloverangel

[yebyyhfushi]

Different anon but I do want to mention that the “This is very old practise, but many in BSD fandom don't seem to know it or be aware how even their fandom has caused trouble to scholars and other regular people” is something I’ve experienced when looking into Japanese authors (before I got into BSD) for a number of reasons.

Like I kept (at the time unknowingly) getting exposed to BSD fanon!Mori content that was presented as if talking about Mori Ougai (the real life author). This was also off of tumblr and presented as if it were purely factual.

Because of that, for the longest time, I thought Vita Sexualis had themes like Lolita (along with thinking what people said about BSD fanon!Mori was stuff about Mori Ougai (the real life author)), so I put off reading it for literal years (because I thought the book wouldn’t interest me).

I deeply regret that as I feel it’s one of the best (unintentional) ace-spec representations (not directly/explicitly stated, but there’s multiple lines and scenes describing the protagonist’s experience that sound very ace-spec to me) I’ve ever been exposed to and made me realise things (e.g., I, as an aroace person, thought I was fine with the current state of aro and ace-spec representation. Now I’m very much not and understand the importance of it beyond like a conceptual level). It’s now my favourite book

That was years ago. I feel like it’s gotten extremely worse since then (this includes people reblogging posts to spread awareness of using tags like “bsd [name]” and not the author’s full name and etc…but then continuing to use the author’s full name (without the media tag) despite the post they reblogged about it). Like it’s to the point where I’ve contemplated not reblogging from people who use the author’s full name (especially without a media tag) and/or not just interacting with the fandom outside of translations

(Fun(?) Fact: My experience with the above also dissuaded me from writing a college essay about Japanese authors because of that very issue)

Ohhhh thats very interesting!! I had seen a lot about Mori (author) on Twitter bcs of an artist who really likes him and his books

It's great to know now about that part of the authors full name and other such information, I appreciate every info about it all

[adambja]

✨Law of Assumption | Reality Creation✨

The ULTIMATE Post on Tumblr - CREDITS GOES TO @X3N97 ON TWITTER

I offer tapes and coaching btw ;) the self-concept tape is guaranteed 100% 🫶🏻

The only post you would ever need.

𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳

DISCLAIMER:

I am a Neville Goddard follower, it took me 2 YEARS to understand the law fully well. Through trial and tribulations it FINALLY clicked for me. I do NOT just follow any YT coach, only who understand the law, so my knowledge might contradict what you know but I hope you get something out of this thread, I want you to use your common sense, have an open mind, you never know, it might be of benefit for you.

Had to lay that out there, let's continue with the post.....

PART 1

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘼𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜

Wake up! It is time for you to realize you were the operant power all along, life never "happened" to you! It is happening through you! You can realize this by seeing how life is going around for you, any area in your life if you do a little reverse engineering you would realize you created ALL your circumstances, good or bad! There were never coincidences, you created it. With this realization comes more questioning, how does it actually work? It is through your mind, your consciousness, your awareness I want you to realize that EVERYTHING you see in your reality is perceived by your mind, ALL IS MIND, studies show that if consciousness doesn't exist, reality that you know now does NOT exist

Source 👇🏻

When we say "the 3D is an illusion" it really is. You're the one assigning meaning/creating whatever the circumstances, the problem is that you were on auto-pilot, the human's non-understanding of reality made you that way, but that will be over now as you realize you hold the power.

Science calls it "the simulation theory" You're the one simulating it with your mind, your awareness, your consciousness, as consciousness is the only thing that we can call as real, spiritually speaking, you're a soul living through body, you are NOT your body.

There are people who went to experience the 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘬, where you get into a tank and restrict environmental sensory, people report that they don't feel their bodies at all and that they are only "aware" goes to show how consciousness is ONLY real (video from the movie: 𝘈 𝘎𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘹, I highly recommend)

I CANNOT stress it enough when I say that you're 𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘴 as Neville says it, to think this reality is real and that you can't change it and can't be malleable, you do that EVERY single day but UNCONCIOULSY until you awaken to this truth

The truth that you've always been a conscious creator you were just deluded by society from birth that you can't be "supernatural" and alter reality...that this 3D world is real... but this is over! It's time for you to WAKE UP!

PART 2

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙚𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙨

How do we consciously create, you ask..

Let's read what science talks about reality creation..

In Quantum Mechanics there's a theory called "the observer effect" which states: the phenomenon in which the act of observation alters the behavior of the particles being observed" Which means whatever we focus on, be aware of; is changeable, more on that in this video:

If we explain this in more layman words, we will come to an understanding that reality CAN be shifted, with OUR MINDS through focus! There's also the theory in Quantum Physics where there are multiple version of you out there in the Quantum Field and the minute you observe that you become it!

Here's where the fun begins!

PART 3

𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝘾𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝘼𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

Neville Goddard says "creation is finished" What does he mean by that? It means ALL things exists in the NOW, there was never past or present, there is always NOW It all exists. "All possibilities, all the things you desire, your healing, your job, your house, the wisdom you desire, the spiritual attainment you seek, the answers you seek, the partner, whatever it is, because we all desire different things, it's all finished and available."

So when you desire something, you're not trying to get it! It already exists, "Nothing needs to be summoned (manifested), but EVERYTHING already exists!" - Neville, all possibilities exist in the quantum field, all possibilities exist in the 4D. All you have to do is just SELECT that reality, with your MIND, your imagination.

• What's the difference between the 4D and the 3D?

One is where your mind generates images and thoughts so they can be reflected, it is your Godly power of accessing past, present, and future, the real reality, the 3D is just a reflection. 4D is where you CREATE

• How does the 4D pertain to the parallel realities where everything exists?

You access the 4D to choose what you want to experience in the 3D! If you desire it, know that the possibility of it EXITS! Your imagination is the TRUE reality, as Neville says: “When man finally identifies himself with his imagination rather than his senses, he has at long last discovered the core of reality” Remember when I said your senses (operating on the 3D realm) make you think your reality is fixed? It is not, it is always changeable.

Sooo....

• How do we choose/select/shift to the desired reality?

It was never about techniques and I will explain how you can CORRECTLY do this.

So we already know that imagination is the true reality (the 4D) and the 3D (physical reality) is just a reflection, a mirror, a shadow! And we already know there’s infinite versions of you out there and one of them that ALREADY has your desire

But...

• How do we access it?

By shifting your focus, your conciousness, your thoughts! Neville calls it “states of consciousness”

When you change how you’re aware of your desire, how you “assume” it, that is what it’s gonna reflect! Remember the observer effect? What we are conscious of it will manifest

What do I mean by “Techniques don’t manifest, you do!” Most of you go through the mistake of putting importance on them thinking that “if I don’t do it right, I won’t get what i want” here’s why they don’t matter! We already know creation is finished so every possibility exists!

And we already know we create everything effortlessly with our minds! And we also know there’s infinite version of us in the quantum field right?

• Let’s take an SP example (since it’s the most popular topic on loatwt)

Let’s say I am in a version of reality where I don’t have my SP, knowing about parallel realities, I know there’s a version out there of me where I have them! So how do I shift to that version? I just simply ask myself a simple question (this where imagination comes in play the real reality) I ask myself “How would I feel if I was ALREADY in a relationship with them?) I would feel all the feelings of having them ALREADY, I shift to that state, I embody it! I shift my awareness to KNOWING I already have them! Its not about “attracting” things to you, it’s about SELECTING the state, the awareness of my desire! How would I think if I had it already? I jump to that timeline (that I know it EXISTS) and experience what I want so it will be reflected in the 3D, because I experienced in my imagination (4D) so I KNOW It’s REAL, IT HAPPENED! The minute you don’t GIVE AN EFF ABOUT THE 3D IT’S WHEN YOU KNOW YOU CAN CONSCIOUSLY CREATE!!!! Remember 3D is a MIRROR of what you selected in YOUR MIND! When you feel it is ALREADY done! 0 to 100 REAL QUICK!

“So like what about techniques, I don’t affirm anymore?”

Most of you use techniques to produce results. You are still operating on the 3D realm, thinking affirming or whatever will make your desires come true, when in fact you have TO ASSUME the STATE FIRST!

Think about it..if you ALREADY have it would you still be affirming non-stop? How did you manifest when you didn’t know about the law before?

After you assumed the state (conjuring the feelings of ALREADY having what you desire and playing with your imagination) that’s when techniques come in handy! You start affirming NATURALLY and EFFORTLESSLY! You don’t strain yourself by doing it! You are living in the END!

Always LIVE IN THE END! It is done.

Just how this post is. 💋

i reposted it here because I know it will help a lot of people!!!!

• Credits goes to @x3n97 on twitter

The link to @x3n97 post on X (previously Twitter)

Have a good day/night 🥹🫶🏻

I have coaching for the void state and self-concept also tapes and it's guaranteed from my side but it depends on you

[blackbirdsblackberries]

Hey, Tira!! Anon that suggested Latina! Reader here. First of all, are you doing good? Remember to drink water, okay?

Secondly, for a neglected! Reader plot,(or maybe a one-shot, whatever you feel like writing) what do you think about magical girl! Reader? Like, there's this pink (or any other color) teenage girl/boy in gotham that fights some type of not really scary monster (maybe those from precure, as they don't look that frightening) with glitter and hearts and cute stuff and then the batfam is just flabbergasted because why?? Are they?? So cute?? And they become yandere because they just think reader is so so adorable and innocent

And maybe gotham villains have a soft spot for reader becuase they saved them for the monster thingys

And now reader has to deal with all the most powerful entities in gotham being obsessed over them

And IF it is a neglected! Reader they have to deal with the pain of being adored by the batfam as their magical girl persona, but not as their real self

OR MAYBE!! Star butterfly! Reader (i could elaborate if you want!)

Sorry for the long ask and any writing mistakes, and again, really self indulgent because I love love love magical girls!!

Hi! I love hearing from you again!!! I'm doing good, I just watched the Deadpool and Wolverine movie and it's taken a grip on me 😩

I love that idea for the plot! I was hoping to do a magical girl reader because my FYP on both Tiktok AND Tumblr has been magical girl batfam and I just finished watching Sailor Moon last night.

I'd love to incorporate that into the plot (as well as make a separate one-shot of it in a different instance).

I for sure think that the Batfam would have the mindset of "oh, they're dressed up in cute, bright colours and is fighting non-frightening monsters. That must mean they're an innocent teen playing dress up and doesn't actually know the truth about the real world"

Whether it's true or not is up to you to decide for now but I personally think that Reader would be in the middle, aware of the world around them but oblivious to how it affects themselves - or completely different then that, Reader would be completely aware of the world and struggles in real life but fights as a magical girl + with a smile on her face so she can give others hope.

For the villains I think for sure that the ones who have a proper soft spot (eg. Wouldn't get Reader involved in crimes, would work to protect Reader) would be Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Riddler, Two-Face and Penguin.

For the villains that will let Reader get into trouble so they can save them I think it would be Bane, Catwoman, Clayface and Killer Croc. (Possibly Mad Hatter).

For the villains who would purposefully incorporate Reader into their schemes I think the main ones would be Joker, Hugo Strange and Scarecrow (for two different reasons however).

For Joker he'd see it more so as a bonding experience, a way to "hang out" and "catch up". Even if the Reader is held hostage, in the middle of the battle field, etc.

For Scarecrow I think it would come moreso from a sense of morbid curiosity. How far will Reader go to help people? How does their mind work? How will they react to Fear Gas? What is their fear?

I'd definitely think Harley would love the outfit and Mad Hatter would start to think of you as Alice with your colourful get-up.

If we're talking Batman villains who aren't in Gotham (Talia, Ra, Deadshot, Deathstroke) then I feel it would be a different kind of attachment.

It would be more like "what is this colourful child doing in such a dark place?" (Even if you are already in your adult years).

Talia and Ra would see Reader as someone to train, Reader has great strength to wield and if Talia/Ra can train them then Reader will be a great asset.

The difference between the two would be that Talia grows attached in a nurturing way while Ra grows attached in a condescending way.

Eg.

Talia would think of Reader as a child for her to protect

Ra would think of Reader as a lamb that will be slaughtered without him.

Deadshot has his own kid, he doesn't care much for another until seeing Reader hurt/sad. Reader would be a substitute for Deadshot's daughter while she's with her mother.

Deathstroke, I really don't like him (sorry if you do, he just makes me feel icky), but I feel he'd have a mix between Talia's headspace and Ra's headspace.

"Reader can't survive without me guiding them. Reader needs a father to help them grow" it doesn't matter if you have a dad, he won't compare to Deathstroke. If it's such a big deal for Reader Deathstroke will just remove Reader's father from the picture.

I'd love for you to elaborate on Star Butterfly!

Dw about long requests, I literally squealed when I saw it!!

[lonelywretchjervistetch]

The State Birds Initiative - Introduction

Before I do ANYTHING else, and before you read anything else...let's start this with a little poll, shall we?

...Look, I'm an overly ambitious person by nature. It's a problem, I'm fully aware. So, in the midst of writing character essays, imagining my own version of the DC Cinematic Universe (I promise, I will return to the Legion of Super-Heroes series; been having writer's block, not gonna lie), and about a dozen other projects that don't include school and my job (one and the same thing, and I love both, but I'll get to that one day)...I had another thought. That I would like to present to the good people of Tumblr (and perhaps beyond).

The state birds suck.

Most people on Tumblr don't know this about me, save for a select few that no me in real life (hey guys, 'sup), but I'm an avid birdwatcher, and am currently working in ornithology as a profession and student. As such, and as a former (and future) teacher, I have a vested passion in spreading the word. And one of the first ways most of us in the United States engage with birds, other than through the world and people around us, is through our national bird and state birds. Oh, and for anybody reading this not from the USA, don't worry, national birds are included here, too.

Now, in case you don't know for whatever reason, each one of the states in the United States has a bird meant to represent the state, designated by the government and often nominated by the state's citizens. This tradition started in 1926, with Kentucky's national bird, the Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis). Now, most states have an official state bird, although Pennsylvania technically has a state game bird, rather than a state bird. We'll get to it. But in any case, there's a bird associated with every state.

But, uh...most of them suuuuuuuuuuuck.

Now, for example, I'm not saying that the Northern Cardinal sucks. Far from it! I love cardinals, and honestly, who doesn't? They're handsome birds, they have a lot of character, they're recognizable in most states in the Union by most people. I love them! But, uh...cardinals are extremely overused as state birds. Kentucky chose them as their state bird first, and were followed by Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, North Carolina, West Virginia, and Virginia. That's ridiculous. Also, wait, really, Virginia? You saw that West Virginia had it already, and STILL went for the cardinal? What the hell?

But why? Maybe there's a good reason for all of those states to choose the cardinal, after all. Obviously, it's present in all of those states, because...well, the Northern Cardinal is basically everywhere. But other than that, why? Well, let's see.

Kentucky: Unclear, but it's likely because of its prevalence, songs, and nonmigratory behavior, at least according to some sources; there isn't a lot of evidence online as to why outside of this.

Illinois: For this one, we blame the children. Yeah, kids voted this one sd the symbol, choosing it over the bluebird, meadowlark, bobwhite, and oriole, according to the Illinois Department of Natural Resources. So, yeah, probably because it's familiar and red.

Indiana: For...reasons. Yeah, even less is known about this choice. Safe to assume, though, that it's because it's familiar and red.

Ohio: Apparently, this is because it's red and has a cheerful song. 'Kay. Again, not a lot of evidence for this one, but we'll go with it.

North Carolina: This one also came down to public vote, after a campaign initiated by the North Carolina Bird Club in 1943. It won over the red-winged blackbird, wild turkey, scarlet tanager, and gray catbird. Apparently, this was the second attempt at a state bird, as the Carolina Chickadee (Poecile carolinensis) had been chosen ten years earlier, but only retained the position for a week because the bird's other name is, and this is true, the tomtit. And that was apparently too lewd for the title of state bird. Jesus. We'll get back to that when I address North Carolina officially.

West Virginia: Again, chosen and voted by schoolchildren, and chosen because it's familiar, red, and has a cheerful song. 'Kay.

Virginia: No idea. Also, don't listen to the sites that say their bird "exemplifies the quality of the state" unless they have the GODDAMN PAPERWORK to back that shit up. If I had to guess, it's possibly because the northern cardinal is one of the first birds seen in the state by settlers to the continental USA, who landed in...Virginia. So, the state's got a historical connection to the cardinal, meaning that the last state to ratify it as a state bird is the one to make the most sense to do so.

So, yeah...only one of those makes sense to me. Otherwise, it just feels...random. And by the way, many of the state birds do make some sense. Utah's choice, the California Gull (Larus californicus), has roots in a Mormon miracle, which makes perfect sense for the Mormon state. Louisiana's Brown Pelican (Pelecanus occidentalis) is an iconic species to the American southeast, and a massive proportion of the species breeds in the state. Same goes for the Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Tyrannus forficatus), the state bird of Oklahoma. Iconic and unique grassland bird, and it breeds within the state in high quantities for the global population.

But others? Why does New York (a state I grew up in and around) have the Eastern Bluebird (Sialia sialis) for its state bird? Because it's blue and nice-looking? Why exactly do Wyoming, Oregon, Nebraska, Kansas, Montana, and North Dakota ALL have the Western Meadowlark (Sturnella neglecta)? I love the song too, and it's an iconic grassland species, but really? All of you? And Maine? Maine...Maine. I mean, you didn't even go for a specific species and just listed "chickadee" as your state bird. Why? There is a MUCH. BETTER. OPTION. OBVIOUSLY. But...I digress.

...FUCK IT

WHY ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH IS MAINE'S STATE BIRD NOT THE ATLANTIC PUFFIN (Fratercula arctica)??? ANSWER ME MAINE GODDAMMIT

Seriously, what the hell? It's the only state IN THE UNION where the Atlantic puffin breeds, and it's an incredibly iconic bird! I mean, look at that thing! They're adorable, fish-eating, clumsy-flying, feathery orbs with a Froot Loops beak (for part of the year), complete with their own fucking cereal that I ate constantly as a child. And their babies are called pufflings! PUFFLINGS!!! DO YOU HEAR ME MAINE WHAT THE FU

...OK. OK. I'm good. Look, this genuinely irritates the SHIT out of me, both as a hobbyist and as a professional. There are near 1,000 bird species that can be found in the United States, and the state birds are, honestly, some basic-ass choices that doesn't BEGIN to explore the incredible diversity of this taxon. And honestly, maybe if we changed up the state birds, we could increase awareness for these animals and their conservation stories and needs. There are so many missed opportunities here for us as educators, birders, ornithologists, backyard birdwatchers, and even Birdblr, to educate those around us who aren't as ornithologically-inclined. Imagine being able to convince a friend to go find the state bird on a trip some weekend. It could be a fun activity, and a fun way to get into birdwatching and the natural world! IT'S GOT POTENTIAL!!!

And look, I realize I'm not alone on this front. Various people have proposed changing up the state birds, including some more powerful professionals than I. If you haven't seen it yet, check out this essay series from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology that came out last year, which asks whether or not eBird could be used to identify better candidates for state birds. And I'll be using it for what's coming next. Because here's the thing. I'm tired of ranting alone in the dark towards nobody while my fiancee is trying to sleep about this. I need to rant to you poor people instead. And what's more...I want people to rant with me. If they want to. So...

TO ME, BIRDBLR!!! LEND ME YOUR BINOCULARS!!!

I propose an initiative to create a new list of state birds for the United States of America. And I'm talkin' EVERY state, baby! Even the ones that have fitting birds, as mentioned above. We live in a GODDAMN DEMOCRACY, and I say that we put this to a vote. So, Imma make a series of polls, one for each state. And yeah, that's 50 polls. Each will have a selection of birds, including the current state bird for that state, and I'll present the options in each case. The rules and selection criteria for the birds I'll present are as follows:

The bird has to be wild and breed in the state in question. No migrants, to accidentals, no introduced species (looking at you, South Dakota), no domestic species (looking at you, Rhode Island and Delaware). They're from the state, they breed there, and they're wild. Don't have to be endemic to the state, but they need to be found there, at bare goddamn minimum.

No repeats! Every state will have a different species! No more repeats. If there are any ties for states to get a given bird, another set of polls will be made at the end to determine which state will get that bird, and the second highest bird will claim the spot for that state. I'll try to avoid that for each state, but we'll see how things go.

There has to be a reason for their selection. For each of the birds presented for each state, I'll make a solid argument for their nomination. This also goes for any birds submitted to me for suggestions (and yes, I mean to say y'all can make suggestions if you want to for each state). If you have a bird you think would be good for a state, especially if it's your state, please give me a reason. Not that it's pretty, not that you like it's song, not that it "represents the spirit of the state's people" for no easily defined reason. GIVE ME A REASON

And for now, that's it! And hell, if this gets popular or demanded (and I'm saying this if, like, 30 people pay attention to this post), I'll also do the District of Columbia and the U.S. territories. And hell (again), I'll even consider doing other countries if that gets demanded, definitely starting with Canada and seeing how things go from there. And finally...if people want it, maybe even the Bald Eagle (Halieetus leucocephalus) will go up for debate as the USA's national bird. Although, not gonna lie, I think that we're stuck with that one. Still, there are other questions that can be brought up if this gets popular enough. For now, though, let's focus on one thing at a time.

So, hopefully you answered the poll at the top, because I am curious as to what you think about your state bird. And just to set this up, the first state on the chopping block is Delaware, which has one of the most offensive state birds, in my opinion. Because seriously. What the fuck, Delaware? What the fuck.

See you soon, hopefully! And happy birding!

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

Introduction to the State Birds Initiative

1. Delaware - Poll | Results 2. Pennsylvania - Poll | Results 3. New Jersey - Poll | Results 4. Georgia - Poll | Results 5. Connecticut - Poll | Results 6. Massachusetts - Poll | Results

[fibernati]

The crochet hook case is finally here!!!

This is my very first crochet project. I made it using two different yarns: Barroco nº 4 (the grey one) and Duna (the green one), both by a Brazilian brand called Círculo. Using the 3.0mm hook. And, it took me about 3~4 days to finish. [you can find the project diary here and here]

At the end of the project, I gave up on making two more pockets and made just one. The one without a closure. The fourth one was supposed to go above the bigger pocket, but I thought it wasn't necessary because I don't have that many things to store.

I sewed the hook holder based on the size of my hooks, but they hadn't arrived yet when I crocheted this part, so I ended up following the original measurement and then I regretted it, because as you can see below, there's a piece left over that's no use, it's simply a raised flap. Besides, if you look at the photo above, you'll see that I sewed it on crooked. Everything here is crooked, that okay.

I also gave up on making a pendant for the drawstring because I wanted a flower and I couldn't make one. I asked my mom, and she couldn't make the flower either, so in the end I said let it go, let's keep it simple and it's useful, it achieves the purpose to close the case so I'm fine with that.

Here you can see the things I wish I had done differently. The leftover tab, and the buttons.

These buttons were made from improvisation, because I still don't understand the concept of the magic circle, and they turned out okay, but I sewed them on in a way that, after a few days of closing and opening, made me realize that at some point they will fall off.

So, I'm going to need new bottons and honestly, I can just buy them?? I wish I had thought about it before.

Basically, this is my first project and I hope to use this case for a long time. Now, let's talk about the feelings about make it, the expectations, the frustations and also the tips and cumpliments!!!

Just showing you what I'm storing in each pocket. That one without closure it's empty for now.

As I said before, I started out thinking I was going to follow a tutorial, but I let the project take me and did what I thought would be best for my personal use and to match my personality.

It was a fun project to do, but I'm also very aware of what I would have liked to have done and what I actually did. Not that they are VERY far apart, but learning to crochet for just one week (two now!), I did the best I could with what I had and it's better than not having made anything at all.

During the whole process, the thing that bothered me most was that it turned out crooked. Everything was simply crooked and I didn't know how to fix it, I redid it and it was still crooked, so I gave up and left it crooked.

One tip I was given was to use stitch markers at the beginning and/or end of each row, because that would help me get everything straight. And I'm definitely going to use that for my next project. They also gave me color suggestions and a tutorial on how to make an easy flower. I'm going to try again, but I need to buy the suggested colors before I do that!!!

My friends encouraged me a lot while I was doing it, and every time I said it was crooked, they lied to me. Which was really nice of them, because I have ADHD and I don't know how to deal with frustration, so there were times when I wanted to give up because it didn't look the way it should be in my head.

The people who know how to crochet and have seen this case, both here on Tumblr or in real life, have been lovely to me. They know it has flaws and I know they know it has flaws, but the messages were all saying that yes, it's a bit wonky, but that with practice, I'll be able to make better things and even if it's not perfect now, I've done a good job and shouldn't be hard on myself!

It's cute, it's useful, it's my favorite colors and they match with me, so, yes I'm very proud of my crooked hook case. 10/10 🎉✨

[clonehighdoublehelix]

Now that we're one month into the comic I wanted to highlight some of the delightful (if hyperbolic) feedback I've gotten so far:

Shrimpy here has the valour of being a Day One fan! I would say you liked it before it was popular but let's be sensible.

Praise for the art direction?? Buy me dinner first.

Hmmm... they seem to like it when Gandhi

*scribbles note on my clipboard*

🫵 You get it. Learn from this everyone: I play favourites and my favourites are the ones who agree with my complaints.

Cheers to this comment and my followers for being normal so far? It may not sound like much but on tumblr the bar is shockingly low. Nobody has yelled at me for my takes on the characters or de-canonising a beloved pairing.

I'm learning that this blog is not only "peak" but also "based". I am young and have my original hips. 😎

Glad to know people get something out of me rambling in the tags! It’s like directors commentary for nothing!

Not only caught the reference but riffing beautifully in turn! shoutout to da real ones; @jfkonfucius @ativangelism @gspot-rocks-the-gspot @kjmanimation @sopita-instantanea @moondove330 @youdonelostyourmind @kalisseo @tumbleweedsthesecond @unsortedmess @garbagefirelol (If you left a comment or reply in February and I forgot to spotlight it, feel free to kick me until I learn my lesson or stop moving, whichever comes first)

I occasionally have moments excruciating self-awareness where I think “I'm spending SO much time making a webcomic for a dead show, what am I doing??”

but your comments, tags, replies, reblogs, likes and follows remind me that this project is connecting with real life human beings. And I still appreciate you even if you're reading the comic without interacting. Hope you stick around!

[zebulontheplanet]

Saw a post and it really got me thinking.

The post was talking about why don’t lower support needs, higher masking individuals even believe that higher support needs, low masking, “severely autistic” people, exist. And that got me really thinking. Because, I do think they know we exist. I just don’t think they want too.

I don’t think they want to know we exist. They know we exist, but keep us on the back burner. They live in ignorance bliss of us. I have what some people would think of as severe autism. Im nonverbal (although nonverbal later in life. But outside people don’t care about that. They see nonverbal as nonverbal), I’m intellectually disabled, need help in everyday life, etc. but I’m in the middle. I’m moderate support needs. To me, I’m not severely autistic. But to society, I am considered and seen as severely autistic because society doesn’t have the understanding of moderate autism yet. They don’t understand it. And I’ve seen more times than I can count that severe autism doesn’t exist. Not because they don’t believe in severe autism the label itself because it’s “harmful” but because they don’t believe that it’s just caused by autism. They often believe that’s it’s caused by comorbidities. Like ID, or cerebral palsy, or apraxia/dyspraxia, or mobility issues, or genetic conditions, and so on. Although none of this is bad.

They believe that autism itself can’t create severe autism. Which…isn’t true. Before, it was believed that severe autism was the only type of autism. That it was the only type that existed and if you weren’t severely autistic then you weren’t autistic. Then more research happened, then social media happened, and now..white, lower support needs, high masking, late diagnosed individuals are the majority of what’s being centered. And, that isn’t bad. We need awareness of all autism. But when one type of autism gets centered, it becomes a problem. It becomes the new norm. It becomes what everyone expects out of autism now. Which, isn’t true. Autism all of all types and traits exists. Autism of all support needs exists.

When people say severe autism doesn’t exist, they’re ignoring and saying that a BIG percentage of autistic people don’t exist. They’re saying that we aren’t real. That we aren’t on the internet, or in the communities they live in, or in their schools, or whatever. We’re everywhere. Severe autism is still a thing. It isn’t a misdiagnosis. It isn’t from comorbities, although if someone’s autism is more severe from comorbidities then that isn’t bad.

I think a lot of people need to be more aware of severe autism. And not just severe autism like me or my mutuals, or the people you see here on tumblr. But the ones with even MORE severe autism. The ones who live in group homes, residentials, institutions, and so on. The ones who aren’t on the internet. The ones who aren’t here blogging about their lives. We need to be aware of them too. We need to believe they exist, and believe that their autism is real.

Don’t erase severe or profound autism.