#thank you truly anon!

[shouyuus]

okay…okay TRULY SORRY (am not) for adding onto shirtless sleeper hc once again buuut roommate!Vi waking up hours after the encounter to an empty apartment and a lightbulb-bright idea — it’s been sooo long since she’s made you blush this hard and worried she’s been losing the knack of it, but now it’s like you’ve given her a whole new arsenal of ideas to turn you pretty pink

cue to you running into a various degrees of undressed vi in your apartment in the upcoming weeks (all instances paired with grinning, half-assed excused like ‘i just got out of the shower, i running was hot, i just got a new tattoo, i needed to check my form etc etc)

(pls everyone put ur hands together for our lord and savior the shirtless sleeper anon -- they're single-handedly feeding us all)

18+, mdni, college roommate!vi cinematic universe

college roommate!vi who walks out of the bathroom, steam billowing out behind her, a tiny pink-stained towel wrapped around her waist (it's so low it's seconds from falling off), oh so casually bumping into you in the hallway, her hair still damp and trickling water down her neck and the tattoo snaking up her shoulder, her skin gleaming with steam --

"oops, sorry princess -- forgot to bring a shirt into the shower --"

but makes no move to cover her tits. you jerk your eyes up to her face, your own cheeks burning.

"n-no sorry i -- uh, i came back from study group a bit earlier than i thought it would uhm -- i should've texted or something --"

"no biggie, princess. so, did study group go well? you were complaining about some asshole last week who --"

but you really can't focus bc did she change her nipple piercings out? those don't look like the same ones from --

"hello? earth to pretty girl?"

"uhhhhh -- sorry?"

vi has the audacity to smirk as you blink rapidly, swallowing hard, finally looking back up at her.

"i just asked you a question, sweetness. gonna answer me or...?" her eyes flicker down to her own tits.

you feel the inexplicable urge to slam your face into the hallway wall.

"sorry uhm i just remembered i've got -- an assignment that i -- sorry --" you push passed her, shouldering into your room and slamming the door, pressing your back to it the moment it's closed and sliding down to the floor. faintly, you hear the sound of vi's little chuckle as she walks into her own room, but you never hear the door close. a second later, loud rock music starts blasting and you let out a long breath.

barely three days later, you find college roommate!vi lounging on the living room sofa with a vape and what looks like fresh black boxers, the white waistband accentuating the muscles of her abs, her eyes a little hazy as you walk in and nearly drop your books at the sight.

"hey sweets -- can you do me a favor and grab that charger cord?"

you stare for a few seconds before glancing at the white usb-c cord not even a foot away on the dining table. gingerly, you reach over and hand it to her, trying very hard not to look down at her chest, at the way her nipple rings catch the dim light when she breathes in and out.

she lets a puff of smoke wreathe out from her lips, sucking in through her nose.

"mm -- thanks cupcake. this thing was getting low."

"r-right..." you press your thumbs into your workbook, the plastic cover crinkling beneath your touch; you glance up at the cracked window before letting your eyes wander back to vi, still sitting half-naked on the couch, "uh... is the fan broken? or..."

"huh? nah -- i just always run hot. y'don't mind, do you, sweets?"

you chew on your lower lip for a second before shaking your head and making your way across the room.

"it's -- it's fine. just -- uhm -- just close the window after you're done, okay?"

vi catches you eye and winks, letting out another thin stream of smoke from between her lips. and, not for the first time, you wonder how they'd taste, if they'd be soft enough to kiss.

and then not even a week after that, you catch college roommate!vi working out in her room, but at least she's got a sports bra on this time, the only thing is, she leaves her door wide opened, whereas before, she'd at least close it enough to only leave a sliver.

you catch yourself pausing at the sight, at the flex of her forearms as she curls a set of bright pink weights, at the thick tug muscle in her shoulders and back as she puffs out a breath, sweat slicking down the long expanse of her back tattoo.

you swallow.

"might wanna take a picture. heard they last longer."

you squeak, jumping back only for your back to hit the tv stand behind you, nearly knocking it sideways. you reach out to steady it, turning around to find vi watching you with a smirk the size of texas slung across her lips.

"i -- i was just --" you flounder for something to say -- you'd wanted to ask her something, what was it? "a few friends and i are going out tonight -- uhm... i was wondering if -- if you wanted to come with us?"

vi finishes her last rep, setting down the weights. you feel yourself hiss out a breath you hadn't even remembered holding. your head feels light as she makes her way over to you, leaning up against the doorframe with an easy grin.

"sure. but on one condition."

you frown, blinking up at her storm-gray eyes. but in the halfway light of your shared apartment, you could swear that just sometimes, they look like the palest shade of blue.

"what... condition?"

she cocks her head, making no move to hide the way her eyes flick from your eyes to your lips and back up again.

"don't let anyone else make you blush like that tonight, hm?"

[idontmindifuforgetme]

Imagining if I was this age during the Iraqi war and I had to watch losers on tumblr call the genocide that is actively happening at the hand of the us “foreign affairs that they can’t do anything about” and then I had to convince people to spare pocket change so my people could escape mass slaughter and then some chronically online tumblr user sent me an ask that was like “guilt tripping people into caring won’t get you far” as if caring for people who’re dying isn’t literally part of being alive and you shouldn’t be persuaded into it in the first place

[choscar-op81]

I want to thank Oscar for being the only man I can trust in that paddock to hype Charles (I had Lewis saying Charles balance was better with the damage in china right above this tweet so I was like getting whiplash😭😭)

https://x.com/datrotajohnson/status/1910272754827342262

This man really wants this cookie

[charmac]

I unlocked my phone for Charlie to take the selfie with us and this was his reaction to seeing my home screen wallpaper

(the wallpaper by @macdenlover)

[spicykellybear]

your ability to immaculately render beautiful hairy man tits will see you remembered as one of the greatest artists of our era

LMFAO OMG thank you, anon!! This made me laugh so much when I first saw it earlier today! I hope to keep improving at this important craft. Here's a doodle of the man whose fat, hairy tits I draw the most!

[burningcheese-merchant]

Hey Merchant! Brand new to the blog and I love it, but I was wondering your opinion on something. I’ve been noticing recently (especially on TikTok) people coming to a compromise in defending ShadowVanilla but/by antagonizing BurningCheese. They’ll say stuff like “SV has nuance but BC is just toxic” and while I can see that in a way, it doesn’t sit right with me. Again, just wondering how you feel about that (No hate to those people from me though).

Hypocrites. They're stupid, annoying hypocrites. Plain and simple. There's nothing to see except for that. It doesn't sit right because the chair is fucking busted dude, it's got 3 legs and two of them got mauled by termites and the rest got cobbled together by Patrick Star

If Golden Cheese was a man, BurningCheese would be just as popular as ShadowVanilla. It would have mountains of fanart on this dumb website and it would have a million fics on AO3 (400 and counting vs 40, yes I am bitter and disappointed, I'm only one person and there are only so many hours in a day I can't bridge that gap alone) and it would have hordes of dumb, horny fujos running interference for it 24/7 just like ShadowVanilla does. (And I specify GC being a man and not BS being a woman because let's all be real. Nobody cares about f/f ships. M/f and f/f are and will always be overshadowed by m/m whether any of us like it or not.) If they actually bothered to pay attention to the game, and to GC's and BS's characters and how they intertwine/compare/contrast, then they would see that their dynamic has equal weight and value. But they don't. And you know what? At least half of them didn't recognize the weight and value of ShadowVanilla, either, until episode 7 and 8 came out and the concept was directly spoonfed to them by the narrative. The OG ShadowVanilla fans went from rarepair hell to having their ship borderline gentrified, that's a whole separate tragedy honestly

You know what's blinding those people to BurningCheese? You know the truth? I'm going to explain better.

Burning Spice is a man and Golden Cheese is a woman. That automatically sets it back in the eyes of a lot of morons online. Hetero pairs bad. Also, BS hurt GC in the story, which is his literal job as a villain and all the Beasts do this, therefore misogyny abuse toxic blah blah blah. GC fought back and kicked his ass and never once tolerated any of his behavior but that doesn't matter I guess. Shadow Milk psychologically tortured Pure Vanilla and essentially mutilated him mentally/spiritually and turned him into a husk (Truthless Recluse). But that doesn't matter because gay = get out of jail free, also there's probably a dose of "lol men can't be abused or mistreated and anything bad that happens to a man is hot and/or deserved" underlining some people's thoughts let's not kid ourselves

Burning Spice is not a Tumblr Sexyman and Shadow Milk is. Shadow Milk is thin and nerdy and has multicolored hair and dresses like a literal and figurative clown and is kind of effeminate and is basically the final boss of all theater kids and is dramatic and charmingly evil and is confirmed to be about as physically tough as cooked pasta. Burning Spice is built like a brick shithouse and has to bend down to fit through a doorway and speaks in a rumbling baritone and is the "wrong" kind of evil (he is not suave or charming, he is all out bloodthirsty with zero dramatics or window dressing of any kind). Burning Spice is a traditionally masculine man and Shadow Milk is not. And the Tumblr I always thought I knew never liked men like BS, they like men like SM, and so far no one has done anything to prove me wrong. Tumblr Sexymen can do whatever they want and always be praised, regular sexy men can do the exact same shit and be condemned as toxic and abusive because they're perceived as threatening while Tumblr Sexymen are not

Burning Spice and Golden Cheese are not white/based on non-white cultures. They're both very dark-skinned, at that. Yes they are cookies not humans, but come the fuck on Burning Spice is literally Shiva but red instead of blue, certain cookies are obviously supposed to be certain races/ethnicities deal with it!! Skinny white boys have always been what Tumblr and TikTok girlies want, it's always been this way and always will be. Go look at the top pairings on AO3, 99% is yaoi with white dudes. (No you are not racist if you don't like BurningCheese, not liking a ship is not racist good Lord. Racism is a little bigger than that. I'm just pointing out a pattern)

I will say it until I'm as blue in the face as Shadow Milk is, I LOVE ShadowVanilla. I really do. I love them individually as characters and together as a pair, I love all the beautiful fanart, I love everyone's analyses of them, I love all the fantastic fics written by fantastic authors I will never in my fucking life measure up to I don't even know why I bother at this point, I do I do I do. But I am SICK of the hypocrisy. SICK OF IT. I am SICK of BurningCheese getting maligned while ShadowVanilla is celebrated in the same fucking breath. Look me in the eye and tell me SM is any fucking better than BS. Look me in the eye and tell me you'd still like ShadowVanilla if PV was a woman, instead of screeching about misogyny and abuse. I accept and love both ships for what they are and what they can be. If someone can't do that for whatever reason then fine, that's nobody's problem but theirs, it's shipping it doesn't actually matter do what you want, but don't try looking down your nose at others because "Fallen Hero/Heinous Villain Being Canonically Attracted To/Obsessed With Their Heroic Counterpart/Narrative Foil, Whom They Cannot Live Without Because They Are Actual, Literal Soulmates" is better than "Fallen Hero/Heinous Villain Being Canonically Attracted To/Obsessed With Their Heroic Counterpart/Narrative Foil, Whom They Cannot Live Without Because They Are Actual, Literal Soulmates" because ❓❓❓❓❓❓❓

I'm sorry Anon, I'm not mad at you. I'm happy to hear from you, I'm happy you took the time to reach out to me, I'm happy you like my blog and I hope you stay. I'll just be honest, I'm dealing with something genuinely awful in real life right now and I am not ok. I'm really not ok. I needed to yell at something stupid and ridiculous so I could pretend I'm not the utterly powerless creature I actually am, if only for a moment. I saw a punching bag in the shape of your ask and I started swinging. Worst part is I don't even feel any better, but I already typed all of this out so I might as well keep it

TL;DR: TikTok -> OPINION DISCARDED

[luminique]

HEAR ME OUT, one sided love?? Imagine s/o doesn’t like lighter back, being oblivious about lighters feeling and only see lighter as a friend meanwhile lighter is so MADLY in love with them and is aware of s/o not liking him back but he can’t help it because you’re the only one that makes him feel this way even if his feelings aren’t reciprocated… they’re so doomed think about the potential angst!! 🫤

lighter isn’t perfect. his body is littered in scars of his past, his actions are solutions to mistakes he had made before. to say that he deserved something as rewarding as love didn’t sound right to him, but oh, would it feel right if it was from you.

it was definitely not an immediate fall, rather it was slower like starting a fire. you bring the materials you require, some wood and a starter. it’s difficult to get a fire going, even he knows that with his lighter in hand. his hand gets warmer the longer the flame is out but it doesn’t compare to the accidental grazes of your hand against his gloved ones.

he had poked you once with the spikes on his gloves. the look on your face when you brought your hand up to rub it while you apologized for it. why were you apologizing? every soft “sorry” that came out of your mouth was like sprinkling water onto the fire. best to get fresh firewood so that it doesn’t go out.

ensuring that the fire is a consistent flame is also important to prevent accidents. accidents like playfully taking off his sunglasses and putting it on yourself while imitating him. somehow, that didn’t cause the fire to go out, in fact, it made it burn even brighter than before. the redness on his face when he watched you was comparable to the orange and red hues of a fire.

he stayed close to the fire, close to you. feeling the warmth of love on his skin, finding it calming but also terrifying. it doesn’t rain often in the outer ring but that doesn’t stop him from worrying that it would all of a sudden. so he lies awake at night, thinking about all of the possibilities, the what ifs and its outcomes.

he thought he had considered everything. from keeping the fire from going out, to ensuring it was a stable flame, to tending it slowly and carefully. what he didn’t consider was getting too close to the fire, burning through what he thought was tough skin.

he was too focused on trying to maintain a certain personality, not quite showing his interest in you. so when caesar was talking to you about her love stories while everyone was hanging around the bar, his heart rate increased. just like how consuming alcohol affects one’s mental and physical state, so does it affect a fire. maybe someone poured his drink into the flames as he watched it burn even brighter than before, making him eavesdrop on your conversation.

but a large flame meant a higher possibility of getting burnt, and soon he saw the burn marks on his skin. as you continued to talk with caesar, the longer he let the fire burn him. how you had said that real love wasn’t like the stories, how you seemed disinterested in romance, how you had believed that no one was interested in you. at that moment, he ended up getting more drinks from burnice, hoping it would soothe the roaring flames within him. he drank so much and fell asleep to the soft crackling of the fire, your voice acting as background noise.

he woke up to the coldness of the bar counter pressing on his cheek. the fire had been put out by you when you tapped on his shoulder. the memories of last night flooding into his mind like water. maybe it was all some nightmare and you did like him back, but the sudden coolness of your touch made him realize the reality of it all.

you didn’t like him, and not because he did anything wrong but because he didn’t do anything in your eyes. you were feeding the fire in his heart and he mistook that fire for your heart too. he sat up straight, took one look at you and shook his head. you still cared for him, came with water and woke him up gently. he never intended to get so severely injured because of his own growing feelings for you.

his own feelings, you didn’t even know he had any for you. the pile of ashes, you both stared at it and yet only he knew that fire existed. the flames had misled him, danced around his heart that craved for you, that only asked for you as its fuel. now all he can do was sit next to what was once a big fire, feeling the cold on his skin despite the layers. no warmth left, no light left, no love left.

[somegrumpynerd]

Would Dream gift Nightmare a t-shirt that says "I'm not the step-father, I'm the father that STEPPED UP" Post truce au?

OH HELL YEAH HE WOULD

We love to see Dream continuing to live his annoying brother dreams lol

What's really funny is I was thinking about something like this a few weeks ago and then forgot, but I was thinking he would have to change the words since stepdad doesn't really fit Nightmare's situation and...

(In case it's hard to read, the shirt says "I'm not the stepdad I'm the guy that kidnapped all these people")

[the-broken-pen]

Hi! I love love LOVE your writing so much!!!❤️❤️(it’s the only thing sometimes that can help me reorient myself when life sucks)-

Idk if you’ve already written a work like this- but could you write about a villain who fakes being in a relationship with hero to get information. Hero absolutely loves them and thinks that they can finally be happy….but then Villain breaks their heart- while saying they never loved them and that it was all a lie.

and then later on Villain regrets it and realizes they are actually obsessed with hero and go full psycho?

The hero had spent their childhood watching as their parents fought viciously with one another. Slamming doors and breaking plates, and then sullen, withdrawn and nearly silent conversations illuminated only by the dying lamp in the corner of the living room. Whatever the hero’s parents had, it wasn’t love, and never would be. The hero had no way of knowing if it ever had been. 

And then the hero had watched as time after time, their sister loved someone with her whole heart and was left shattered on the hero’s doorstep at the end of it. Fairytales that ended with no happy ending, ripped up love notes and a hundred playlists made for people their sister could no longer bear to name out loud.

The hero had watched their entire family reach for love and fall flat every time, and had resigned themself to a fate of the kind of heartbreak you cannot escape. The kind that hangs over heads like a cloud and fogs mirrors.

And then–

The villain. The hero had met the villain, and the villain had smiled, and they thought maybe, just maybe, they had beaten the curse. That they were meant for the soft kind of love they had only imagined when they were young, before the pain of it got too great.

The hero had let the villain intertwine themself into the hero’s life, and they had thought they were okay. They had thought they had made it. 

Which was why, now, they couldn’t seem to make themself think anything sensical at all.

The villain settled the file in front of the hero gently, on the table they had picked out together with as much care as one was capable of. They almost, almost, looked like they regretted it, face soft and breakable.

The villain cleared their throat in the silence. “If you just read it–”

“What, can’t say it yourself?”

The villain stopped, swallowing. This was the first time in a very long time the hero had seen them look unsure.

The hero scoffed at them. “I know about Project Pegasus.”

The villain went very, very still. They looked down towards the folder.

“So then–”

“This?” the hero picked up the folder, waving it once. They tossed it onto the floor without looking. “I’ve already read it. Two weeks ago.” They stared at the villain, and did their best not to blink. “I just hoped it was fake.”

The hero wondered if maybe, this was what had happened to their parents. If they had spent all of that time fighting and hating one another and crying in darkened rooms just so they could spend the rest of it constantly reaching back towards one another. Pretending that the file wasn’t real. That the fights were nothing more than a blip in existence and not the roots of a rot so deep it would never be fully cut out of them. 

They had wondered about a lot of things, curled on the bathroom floor around that wretched file, but mostly they had wondered if they had always been meant to end up here. If this was what being doomed felt like. 

The villain blinked.

“You hoped it was fake.”

The hero felt a little like they couldn’t breathe. They sucked a shallow breath in through their nose anyways. 

“If you–” their voice broke. “If you were me, would you want to believe it?”

The villain’s shoulders, almost imperceptibly, slumped.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, are you?”

“Yes,” the villain said, but in the space where they should have explained themself, where they should have said it was fake, and that they loved the hero more than anything, and that this little apartment meant everything to them–they said nothing.

“So, what,” the hero snapped, voice wet with barely held back tears. “You’re going to tell me you didn’t mean for me to fall in love with you? That this was an accident? That you’re sorry again? That you never meant to hurt me–”

“No,” the villain corrected gently. “You were always meant to fall in love with me.”

A tiny sob wormed its way out of the hero’s throat before they could stop themself, and they pressed their shaking fist to their mouth before anything else could follow, turning away.

“It was just about the information,” the villain said, and the hero shoved themself back from the table, just to get further away from the love of their life.

“You knew what you were doing,” the hero said bitterly. “You know me. You knew. You knew I would never be able to get over this, and you did it anyways–”

“It’s my job,” the villain protested, and it took the hero everything in them to remain standing. “It wasn’t personal.”

“You made yourself my world, you made yourself into my everything, you made me fall in love with you–”

“I never made you do anything.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that. This was your goal, wasn’t it? Own up to your accomplishments. Go on. Tell me how proud you are. Do it.”

“Hero.”

“I loved you,” the hero was screaming, maybe.

And there it was. Past tense.

Loved.

The villain stepped back like the hero had slapped them.

“Hero,” their voice was barely a whisper.

The hero picked up the file. Rifled through it once more.

“Hero–”

The hero held out the file. The villain didn’t take it, hands remaining limp at their side.

“Take it.” They gestured with the file. “Take it, and get out.”

The villain sucked in a breath.

“Hero,” the villain said again, uselessly. 

“Tell me you love me, then. Tell me you meant it.” They gestured to the file once more. “Tell me that this is the lie.”

“I can’t.”

“Tell me.”

The villain opened their mouth, and for a second, the hero hoped–

“I don’t love you.” 

The hero wished the villain had just killed them. 

“I never loved you. It was all a lie. A really, really pretty lie.”

The hero wanted to say something elegant to that. Something biting and vicious and jagged in the same way the inside of them felt right now. They wanted to say everything they had felt earlier, every thought that had cut them so that it could cut the villain too.

Instead, all they managed was a choked, “Get out.”

They threw the file at the villain.

The villain didn’t bother to catch it, letting it slam into their chest. It thudded against the floor, papers spilling out in a halo around the villain’s feet.

A part of them wanted the villain to argue further.

A part of them just wanted the villain dead.

“I’m sorry,” the villain said once more, and then they were gone.

The villain had known as soon as the hero had thrown that file that they wanted the villain dead. 

That they were more likely to claw their own bones apart than willingly reach for the villain’s hand again, and the logical part of their brain was viciously pleased about it.

It made this whole thing easier. No lingering attachments to further butcher. Just a field, burned so badly nothing would ever grow in it again, and god, wasn’t that convenient for their mission. 

A tiny, smothered part of their brain, however, wouldn’t stop screaming.

They drowned it.

But then the villain would catch themself glancing to their side in search of a smile. They would wait a beat too long after they said something, would wait for laughter, and then there would be none, and they would curse themself for it, and that little part of them would come gasping back to life and start screaming again.

Possibly it was that little part of them that had made them send a message to the hero, offering the apartment. It was the least they could do, right? Fuck up their life and then get the fuck out of it. 

But the texts had said delivered, but never read, and three days later when the villain used their key to open the lock, they found themself stepping into a mausoleum and not a home. 

They weren’t sure what they were expecting, but it wasn’t this. Dust hanging in the air. Blank squares left on the walls where pictures had once hung. Empty cabinets, empty floors, empty rooms; no, whatever they had been expecting, it wasn’t this.

For a reason they couldn’t name, they went from room to room, searching for something without quite understanding what. It wasn’t until they had come full circle back into the living room, fingers coated in dust and an aching chest, that the villain had realized. Ghosts. They were looking for ghosts. 

Because there was nothing better to describe the way they felt right now other than haunted. And if there was something, anything, of the hero left in here to burn, to destroy, to exorcise, they could use it as an excuse–

There was nothing left of the hero. There were no ghosts. This place was just dead.

The villain made a shuddering little sound, and slammed the front door closed behind them when they managed to stumble into the hallway. 

This was an easy mission, it was–

–two years and dates over ramen and houseplants–

–something even a new recruit could do–

–i love you’s in the dark and the scent of the hero on all of their clothes and–

–something the villain was trained for, countless hours spent–

–laughing and crying and rainy days and sunny ones–

–learning how to fake love, and somehow–

–the villain had forgotten it was fake.

The villain couldn’t breathe.

The villain had forgotten they weren’t supposed to fall in love, too.

The villain had forgotten they weren’t supposed to fall in love too, and they had just set their entire world ablaze around themself.

Fuck.

It really only made sense, then, that they found themself standing on the roof of their old apartment building as it burned. And when that didn’t work, they moved onto the next, until a third building went up in flames beneath their feet. They knew the kind of message it would send, and they knew exactly who that message would get sent to–

The hero landed on the other end of the rooftop, as far away from the villain as they could possibly get. 

“Stop,” the hero hissed, teeth clenched. “Stop lighting things on fire to get my attention, just stop–”

“I’m in love with you,” the villain said, voice wrecked, and the hero reacted like the villain had shot them. They stepped away, feet bumping against the edge like the fall was a better option than the villain.

“No,” the hero said. They shook as they said it. “Stop it. You don’t get to do this to me.”

“I love you,” the villain said again, and the hero pressed a hand over their own heart.

“Stay away from me,” the hero managed after a moment. Another deep breath, and their hand dropped back down to their side. “Go do whatever it is you need to do, go ruin anyone else’s life, and stay out of the wreckage of mine.”

“We have a life together,” the villain tried. If the hero could just see, could see that they could fix it– “I’m sorry. I was stupid, I was so, so stupid. But you can’t just leave, please, just let me fix it–”

“I told you to get out,” the hero said, and there was nothing soft in their eyes as they looked at the villain. “What about the way I said it made you think it was temporary?”

“Hero, please, let me fix–”

“Villain,” the hero said calmly, voice sharp. “Some things aren’t meant to be rebuilt.”

All of the air left the villain’s lungs in a pathetic sort of wheeze.

“You’re my everything,” the villain choked out. “My whole world, and I’m so sorry. I was–I made a mistake, but you can’t just throw us away–”

“No,” the hero spat, and the villain flinched. “You burned that world to the ground. You’re standing in the ashes of it. You don’t get to come to me begging for it back.”

The villain felt unmoored. Like the world had shifted one step to the left and they had no idea what to do with their limbs anymore, no idea how to keep existing.

“But I love you.”

“The only person who feels anything when you say that is you.”

This time, it was the villain who stepped back.

“Please,” the villain whispered, and the hero closed their eyes.

“What were you expecting to happen. That I would forgive you? Would fall back into your arms? You could tell me that you’re sorry in every language for the rest of your life and that wouldn’t make what you did hurt me any less. So why would you think you could light a building on fire, tell me you love me, and then make everything go back to the way it was?”

“I–I don’t–”

“There is no back,” the hero said firmly. “There is no undo.”

“I don’t know what to do,” the villain said. A tear dripped off the edge of their chin.

The hero appraised them.

“Learn to live with it.”

The villain sucked in a shuddering breath.

“I can’t live without you, okay, I can’t–”

“Then die.”

The villain froze. They waited for the hero to take it back, but the hero just stared at them, face stony and cold. An avenging angel on the edge of the rooftop, firelight flickering at their back and smoke rising into the air, not an ounce of sympathy left in their bones for the villain.

And before the villain could say anything, say that the hero couldn’t possibly mean that, the hero spoke again.

“I mean it. You are not my problem.”

The villain was choking. They were drowning on air and the hole they had left inside of themself when they ripped the hero out of their life and the hero was just watching them–

“Please,” they said pathetically, and even as they said it they knew it was futile.

The hero didn’t bother to give them another response.

They watched the hero leave without saying anything, smoke beginning to sting their eyes and nose as their hands shook. 

It felt terminal. It felt world-ending. It felt deserved.

They wished the hero had just killed them.

[theweeklydiscourse]

There's just something about enemies to lovers antis that is just so funny. Because they go on, shaming womans/girls over silly fantasies saying that they are doomed to be in toxic relationships while being like "this piece of boring white bread and (most of times) toxic masculinity and immaturity hero is actually an much better lover interest for the FMC because *check notes* he's... her friend and does nice-ish things to her sometimes ig" like gurl how arent you catching the irony? Especifically if it's an woman saying crap like that.

Yep this is about kataang and Malina (thought Malina stans cant even say he was nice-ish to her)

They’re blind to how simplistic their line of reasoning is. However, that simplistic worldview brings them a weird kind of satisfaction. Not only does it validate their feelings of moral and intellectual superiority, it also allows them to indulge in salacious and sensational claims and gain internet points as a result. This blindness and simplistic thinking creates a funny scenario where, in fiction, they rail against grandiose villainy, but ignore the more realistic and mundane toxicity of their fave wholesome love interest™.

In ATLA’s case, I think this is partially due to most people’s foggy memory of the show. It’s become apparent to me that many people don’t actually remember certain details and are willing to smooth over the gaps in their memory with personal headcanons. This is how we got to this bizarre reality where people have reframed Kataang as some kind of uniquely progressive and ahead-of-its-time relationship, when in the actual show, it checks nearly every box for your garden variety 2000s heterosexual relationship. Nostalgia compels people to make excuses for the fact that the Kataang relationship centres Aang at every turn and neglects Katara’s end of their romantic arc.

In Malina’s case, it’s even more ridiculous because Mal is overtly worse as a love interest and was largely disliked by the Shadow and Bone fandom for a long time. It’s only in recent years that his reputation has been rehabilitated (and even then…) Then you have the odd contrarian with a vague recollection of the series who tries to gaslight people into thinking that Mal was good actually and that we were just being dramatic. Sure, Mal doesn’t have a particularly sizeable body count, but he commits the arguably greater crime of being an emotionally abusive boyfriend to Alina. He’s not even toxic in an interesting way like the Darkling, he’s just toxic in a way that will remind the teenage readership of their real-life terrible boyfriends. It’s downright comical that Bardugo ever thought Mal could ever be likeable.

The irony is palpable. The toxic masculinity and mundane emotional abuse is something they sweep under the rug because they are so persuaded by the image of a wholesome love interest. They can’t understand why more realistic depictions of relationships in fiction would be more impactful and evocative than that which is fantastical.

[marvelrivalsimagines]

Not really a request but more of a headcanon I have

I don't think Iron Fist is an amazing cook or anything, I actually think he'd be kind of bad at following a lot of recipes. (Maybe I'm projecting my ADHD onto him with that oneee) But he also gives me the vibes that he'd make a mean soup from scratch, like that shit would instantly cure the common cold with just a sip type of soup? Idk why. He gives me such worrysome grandma energy. At least when I imagine his s/o is sick.

I definitely agree with all of that! As much as I love Iron Fist, he does not give off master chef vibes 😔 You might think that if you try to cook with him, things will go a little better, but you'd unfortunately be wrong. You might be trying to teach him a specific cooking technique but no matter how good of a teacher you are Lin is better at distracting the both of you. Trying to cut up the vegetables? Lin is wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind while you're trying to work. The longer you try to ignore him, the more intense the kisses against you neck get. Just waiting for the water to boil now? Well, while you've got some down time Lin is going in for another kiss, and another and - oh shit, the water is boiling over!

Lin's easy distractability in the kitchen does change if you're sick though. He remembers how when he was sick as a child his family had a recipe for a warm, hearty soup that always made him feel better. It sounds like a perfect way to help relive some of your symptoms, but he doesn't have the recipe. Well, he needs to buy the ingredients first anyways so maybe seeing all the vegetables in the store will jog his memory. He remembers something orange being in the soup, but was it carrots or sweet potato? Is there even that much a of difference anyways? (yes Lin, there is. please don't let this man do your cooking or shopping) As Lin stands in the market, an older woman doing her own shopping notices how lost the poor man looks and asks if he needs some help. Lin explains his desperate situation to this woman who smiles, commenting on how lucky his partner must be, and she offers up the instructions to her own family soup. Lin does his best to commit her every word to his memory, then he earnestly thanks her and hurries off to get all of his supplies and get back home to you. Once he's back in the kitchen, he's absolutely locked in. You're sick so there's no room for fooling around. With the instructions from the older woman and the memories of his own family's cooking Lin ends up with a soup that he's actually very proud of! He puts some of the soup into a bowl and carefully walks it into the room you're resting in, announcing that he's made you something to eat. Of course you're grateful that Lin took the time to make you something, but you can't help the involuntary flashbacks to all of the kitchen disasters you've experienced with Lin. As you take your first taste of the soup, again, you can't help the look of surprise at how good the soup really is. Lin smiles and takes fake offense to this, how could you ever doubt him like this?

[soracities]

I have been thirty for a few months. I never thought I'd make it, truly. I had no plans beyond twenty. I'm a high school drop out with various disabilities, I'm not conventionally 'attractive', I've never had many friends and my support network has failed me several times. And the idea of making plans, after a trail of failures and let-downs (both of myself and others), only filled me with dread. I have to take care of so much. I have my blessings, of course, but not without my own troubles. I have never been on a date, I've never been kissed even though I do want that. I've had to make the decision between bills and feeding myself. I've watched everyone around me fade away or leave. This, however, will pass. This time, in ten years, I'll have been forty for a few months. In twenty, I'll be fifty. And I can see myself being those ages. This year, I planted flowers for the first time and I've watched them grow. I've started reading after years of being told I am too stupid to understand things or that having joys won't make me successful. I've made new friends. I even repaired the strained relationship with my parents, something I never thought I'd be able to do. My life isn't going to be plastered on a big screen or be a bestseller but I don't need it to be. If I never marry or I die alone with no one, I don't think I'll regret it because I'll have myself. My thirties, I realize, are my gift to myself to know love and be loved by myself. Like I ... was the one who grew those flowers that made me happy because I know flowers make me happy, I chose to read the books I love because I know that they will make me happy, I choose to find my little joys instead of the joys others have expected of me. I'll get myself to forty, fifty, maybe even a hundred! I'll continue to give myself little joys because right now that is what is making me happy. That may change at forty! At fifty, a hundred, I don't know! I believe, however, I would like to find out ... and that is something I never would have said at twenty. I don't know if I will make it because as my farmer of a grandfather would say, "You have no idea what a year will bring." And you don't, there is no way to predict what the year, the month, or even tomorrow will bring, but you plant the seeds anyway. You plant them and take care of them as though you know they get to full ripeness and harvest. That process, I've learned for myself, is how I've found love. I just plant the seed today. I may or may not have flowers tomorrow but knowing that I may is enough for me to want to see.

.

[moeblob]

Yeah! I haven't read any fics focusing on them but I have seen that they exist! And also there's like a five sentence interaction in a fic I read ages ago that lives rent free in my brain. I think about it all the time when I draw Sixty.

[celaenaeiln]

Hello, welcome back! Well, more like a late welcome back, but it's good to see you! I hope you're doing well, and I was wondering what do you think of the recent new comic "Batman and Robin: Year One"? I think it's pretty good, and I felt like you would probably enjoy it since it is a series that will be heavily focusing on our Dynamic Duo's relationship with also very fantastic art and so far, a good characterization of them, I would say. I also wanted to say that I truly am happy to see you come back, I always enjoy your meta and character analysis about Dick, you have great takes! You were one of the first ever people that I even followed when it comes to joining this fandom so thank you very much for being here! 💙

Anon!!! Thank you!

Thank you so much for sticking with me all this time, even when I was gone and here and other weird times which I don't even need to say since you probably know anyway. Thank you so, incredibly much!!!

I started crying last night at 12am thinking about your post because it really hit me in the feels. Thank you!!!

Batman and Robin: Year One is FANTASTIC!!! I really loved the first issue but I was taken back by the second issue just because the Bruce and Dick dynamic in it was so radically different. Of course I mean taken back in a great way! I think I loved the second issue even more because it introduces the two of them as brotherhood, rather than father and son which is something I was interally begging DC to write more of.

Batman and Robin: Year One Issue #2

So cute!!!!

It's such a throwback to the Batman (1940)'s relationship and how they were actually written -

Batman (1940) Issue #20

Like this Batman and Robin dynamic IS a 25ish year old immature adult paired up with a overly mature 8-year old and their ages and actions just balance out in the middle where they act exactly like best friends and brothers rather than father and son.

DC has been pushing the father-son relationship starting since after Jason and around Tim mainly but they keep forgetting that part of the reason Dick and Bruce fell out is because Bruce was turning darker during Dick's absence and secondly, Bruce was starting to become more parental as shown in the later comics which Dick absolutely did not like.

Batman and Robin: Year One is also a fantastic comic because it perfectly emulates Dick's Robin style. He did what Bruce asked, but his interpretation of the orders were a sliding scale version and definitely not what Bruce meant. Dick is creative and both issues showcase this creativity. His Robin is defined by how resourceful he is. He can pick up a stick during a gun fight and win - this style of his is shown in the comic so I deeply appreciate how the writers wrote it.

Furthermore, I typically judge characterizations by how they corroborate to previously written comics. Characterization is the development of their identities through multiple prior comics. So therefore, if you want to identify if a certain character would act that way, you look to see if other comics implied or spoke on that characteristic.

Issue 2 of Batman and Robin: Year One is actually eerily similar to Dick characterization in Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight.

In this issue, which is part of a long case, Dick Grayson as Robin has to save several kids from the fire. Look at both his personality and his relationship with Bruce.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight Issue #153

It's very much a partnership with a side of mentor-protege

now compare this to Batman and Robin: Year One

Batman and Robin: Year One Issue #2

Whoever wrote this issue did a spectacular job. The first is absolutely amazing too but the reason I'm focusing so much on the second one is because it brings back a dynamic that DC doesn't really touch on.

Things that make Dick's Robin is his resourcefulness, his varied interpretation of Batman's orders, kindheartedness, and how annoying he is to villains. Both issues of this comic hit all four aspects and make it perfect. I really recommend reading it for those who haven't read it yet.

[hyolks]

idk if you still care about tpn BUT! your art for it is sooo good. and your art in general is so lovely. it makes me really happy :D i hope you have a wonderful day whenever you read this!

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I MISS THESE GUYS SO BAD.... the halcyon days,.....

[khaire-traveler]

Hello!

I wanted to pop in to say that I appreciate your sharing of resources so much! I am a new devotee to Dionysus and Ariadne and was able to feel a little less like a lost lamb after a friend directed me your way. I am trying to take things slowly, but sometimes it seems that certain things have to happen Right Now, you know? Yesterday I felt guided to compose a message of welcome to anyone who comes to my home, to find a place of refuge and community without the restrictions of the world weighing them down. It may feel or sound a little silly, but I'm not sure I would have followed that feeling without reading your posts as well as the resources you've shared for other helpol blogs and sites.

Khaire!

This actually meant a lot to hear. It's incredibly beautiful that you've composed such a message in your home. I love that idea, and it honestly warms my heart that my blog could be such a helpful thing for you. I do my best to give out good resources and be beginner-friendly. When I was a beginner, I was faced with a community online that was incredibly unwelcoming and critical. I don't want others to feel the same, you know?

May Dionysus and Ariadne both light your path ahead with the brilliant glow of stars in the darkness, if you wish them to. Take care, Nonny. 🧡