#but for now. you are being subjected to the barrage

[scolek]

whoa...

#justice for angie #pretty soon just gonna throw these in the queue. #but for now. you are being subjected to the barrage #as i just click around at random looking for translated stories

[luvsreiner]

We (in this case me) need a fic where Toji and the reader have a somewhat sad relationship, where she has to deal with being placed in the shadow of his deceased wife, but she becomes pregnant and arguments begin because , how dare you try to do this? He initially rejects the pregnancy, taking into account that he already had megumi and didn't want another baby, he didn't want his old family to be replaced or whatever, whatever the reason, but over time he starts to accept it.

The problem is that he doesn't show this, he just continues to refuse to get involved and this makes the reader understand that she would be a single mother even in marriage and that despite her doing everything she could, she didn't belong to that family as she would have liked, so she leaves after saying goodbye. of a Toji who would go to work and a Megumi who would go to school. She leaves and leaves the divorce papers on the coffee table with a letter talking about how she felt and how she needed to distance herself.

So when Toji comes home and notices everything in silence, he thinks it's weird because she normally wouldn't leave everything off and go to bed before ten. He notices the letter and reads it, feeling mixed feelings as he thinks about the words she wrote.

As time passed and missing her became increasingly difficult to ignore, he decided to tell Megumi the truth about how she had left, correcting the lie about her traveling to visit her parents as he said before. So Toji has to deal with a barrage of questions and a child crying about how he had lost another mother, which made him even more worried and distressed about the situation. He gets in touch with her and tries all the time to find out where she was now, with the intention of visiting her and asking her to come back, but when he does so, she responds by saying that she no longer trusts his words and cannot see the feeling that he said he felt was true. With that, the conversation ends talking about the baby and how they would do it from then on, she gave some ways of dealing with what he accepted and from that day on, life as separated parents began. He would go to the appointments even if he was silent for most of them, he would be there on the day of the birth and help her because she was scared and he knew he had to support his (ex) wife in such a difficult time. When the child was born, they were blessed with a beautiful girl with dark hair like Toji, but her mother's appearance and it was one of the happiest days of their lives.

As incredible as it may seem, he helped her postpartum, and always visited them both when he wasn't at work, taking Megumi with him since he couldn't be alone and needed to create a bond with his little sister. As life went on, Toji managed to spend more time with the girl, now receiving her every weekend at his house, he always picked her up on Friday and took her on Sunday, and it was always the moments when he most felt anxious, despite always calling to talk to her (or just using it as an excuse to talk to you) and visiting the girl almost every two dayshimself by surprise while making dinner, he cleaned the wound and asked the girl more about the subject.

Apparently a tall, blond man was there quite often, taking a pink-haired boy with him and drinking tea with them. Did Toji worry about knowing who that man was, a friend or a boyfriend? Did you trust him so much that you took him close to your daughter? He didn't even realize that he repeated these questions in front of him after once again leaving the child at home. Your answer? He's a long-time friend who you recently got back in touch with. Nothing more, he already had someone waiting for him at home.It was a relief for Toji to hear this, he knew you didn't owe him loyalty, but the idea of ​​seeing you moving on made him bitter and even jealous. He said goodbye to you and went home thinking about the matter, that possible threat in the form of a friend was a turning point for him to make the decision to try to get your marriage back together. He opened the bedside drawer and pulled out the divorce papers that he hadn't signed yet, let alone sent to you, wondering why you never questioned him about it. He looked at the letters without reading them and tore up the paper when he saw his signature, they wouldn't need it anymore as they would soon be back.

*I don't know what he could try to do, but I think that could be left to someone with more ability to develop a story than me, hahaha. Sorry, I got a little carried away explaining the plot and ended up almost writing a one shot. Thank you if you read this far and sorry for any mistakes, I'm writing sleepily*

#jujutsu kaisen #toji fushigro x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #toji angst

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan - GQ February issue cover story Q&A 📝

They have experienced real things. There is no camera facing you. Without lights, you are living your own real life.

GQ: When did it become clear that you wanted to be an actor?

Xiao Zhan: When the public paid more and more attention to me, I want to say, why can’t I do it? I think I can. Sometimes I get shaken and think it’s so difficult. Why can’t I do it? For example, when it comes to lines, why are my lines just not good? Why can’t I speak well with others? Is it because I'm from the South? I don't think so, and then I think, how can I say it well? I can do it, let's give it a try.

GQ: In your opinion, what are the professional standards for actors?

Xiao Zhan: First of all, being professional is an unavoidable topic. You can have a non-major background, but you must have excellent professional skills. This is what I want to do, this is who I am. I feel that I am not enough, and i’m too far behind.

After becoming professional, attitude is very important and whether you love it is also very important. Do you just treat it as a job, or do you really like it? These are two concepts. When you see it as a job, you may not be able to go very far. But if you really like it, you will cry for it and laugh for it, which may be the motivation for you to stick to it.

I also have a strong body (laughs). I used to not feel tired when I was in my twenties, but now I feel very tired after staying up late. It's a terrible thing to be. A strong body is important, it is your foundation.

GQ: When you acted in which role or drama, did you feel recognized?

Xiao Zhan: When I was working on "The Wolf" at the beginning, I was under a lot of pressure. My acting teacher would give me a lot of advice and guidance, and I would constantly overturn my own performance every day. t was a period of confusion. After you get over it, you will find that you have grown. When you start acting later, you will gradually find a little bit of feeling, and then step by step — this is a cumulative process.

I feel that I have acted too little. Compared with some of my predecessors, who have acted in many works in their thirties, my current works are still too few and I have not accumulated enough.

GQ: Are you anxious?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, because I think (improving acting skills) is a cumulative process. You can’t make a big step forward with just one movie. This is difficult for me to happen. So you have to keep filming, but you have to keep filming good films and don't consume yourself.

GQ: What are the considerations behind the expansion of the three film and television dramas to be broadcast in 2023 from costume dramas to period dramas and urban dramas?

Xiao Zhan: Actually, I didn’t think anything about it. It just happened naturally. I didn’t deliberately change the themes that I had acted in before. I just read the script and the script was handed to me at the time. I felt attracted to a certain script at the moment, so I chose it. It just happened to be a subject that I had never acted in before.

GQ: Do you feel tired after always acting in costume dramas?

Xiao Zhan: There are many types of costumes. Don’t divide them into costume dramas and modern dramas. It’s nothing more than putting on a hood and changing clothes. In fact, the core is the same, but also just completely different.

GQ: Once your drama is aired, will you follow it?

Xiao Zhan: I won’t follow it, but I will watch it, and I will choose the scenes that I care about to focus on, so I can find problems for myself.

GQ: Will you be able to watch the barrage?

Xiao Zhan: I used to really know how to do it. I felt very happy and laughed with everyone, but now I can’t do it.

GQ: What kind of role do you want to play now?

Xiao Zhan: If I could choose, of course it would be the best one I haven’t tried yet. I need freshness. If I ask you to do the same thing every day, you will be bored.

GQ: What kind of actor do you want to be?

Xiao Zhan: I want to be an actor that the audience can like.

GQ: Have you already done this to make people like you?

Xiao Zhan: No, no, I think it’s far from enough. I once thought about whether to be an actor with a personal style or to be an actor that the audience likes just by looking at you. At present, I want to be an actor who makes the audience like you. Maybe everyone is not your fan, or even not particularly interested in you, but you know that he has a drama, Do you want to watch it? His dramas are all good. I want to do this. This is my current goal. Is it possible to become the actor I like? This is a rule.

It’s a long road, take your time.

GQ: Who are your favorite actors?

Xiao Zhan: There are many. For example, Zhou Xun has always been my favorite actor. I recently watched her play ("Waving in the Poison of Anger"), and it was really great.

GQ: What are your career plans in 2024?

Xiao Zhan: Make more movies and work with more good teams. This is the only goal at the moment, and I won’t consider other things for the time being.

GQ: Do voices on social media bother you?

Xiao Zhan: It doesn’t bother me. It’s been so many years and I’m still worried. I’m still alive. (English) It’s really okay. Just like I know exactly what I'm doing, every time. To make a choice, you have to clearly know what you are doing, what you want to give up, and what you want to make. So, fortunately, the team may have more troubles.

GQ: Your personal life has not been affected?

Xiao Zhan: Very normal! I can go out for a ride or a walk. When you walk on the street, no one really cares about you. It's really not what everyone thinks. Like this, then I can walk around freely,

GQ: Is this an escape moment for you?

Xiao Zhan: It’s time to relax. Why do you want to escape? I am also in the third dimension. Where do I want to escape? This is my life. I am the same as everyone.

There are many things I particularly want to do, such as taking the subway and shopping in shopping malls, which are very similar to when I was in school, and maybe I will do them in the future.

GQ: Do you miss the ordinary life very much?

Xiao Zhan: It’s not that I miss it, it’s that I think I should do it. It’s because of my popularity. I will really take the subway, maybe tomorrow. It’s so normal. I used to take the subway every day. for me there’s nothing I can't do. What do you think I can do? Say hello and leave. It’s just that I don’t want to cause confusion and trouble for everyone or cause a bad reaction.

GQ: You have not appeared on variety shows in recent years. Is this a conscious choice?

Xiao Zhan: Because it’s not suitable. With my personality, people get tired in variety shows. I want to take care of everyone’s feelings, which makes me very tired. Now that I know this is the case, If there is a result, then just don’t do it.

GQ: What was your original intention in entering the entertainment industry?

Xiao Zhan: I really came in inexplicably and ignorantly. I used to watch talent shows and interview the top contestants. How did i get to this point? I accompanied my friend to participate in the selection, but my friend failed and I was selected. When I was a child, I thought these things were far away from me, but when it comes to myself, it is really like this. I think it's amazing. I participated in the draft and got to where I am now. It's amazing. Life is really interesting.

GQ: What things have you not thought of before after entering the industry?

Xiao Zhan: It is a very cruel thing not to eat wantonly. When I see my former high school classmates who have children and gained weight, I will sigh, I want this too— eating recklessly, their living conditions make me feel that if I had not chosen this path at that time, maybe we are all the same, having to socialize and endure hardships — rushing to design at night, you don't know how tiring it is to do design, but life is like this, there is no way.

GQ: How did choosing this piece change you?

Xiao Zhan: Maybe I lack a lot of life experience. In this regard, my classmates and friends are far better than me. They have experienced real things. There is no camera facing you. Without lights, you are living your own real life.

GQ: Are you an emotionally stable person?

Xiao Zhan: It's relatively stable, but once I touch some points, I will become very unstable.

GQ: For example?

Xiao Zhan: It’s just... some things that cannot be said. Haha, maybe when something incredible happens, you will think, what are you doing? I will be very angry when something happens. Maybe it's some privacy issue. If this point is exceeded, I will "run away".

Everyone has their own boundaries, and some people have no sense of propriety. I stay away from such people, but when the boundaries are broken again and again and the bottom line is touched, I will get very angry.

GQ: You once said that you have a particularly strong side in your personality. What do you mean specifically?

Xiao Zhan: In principle, I am a very rigid person. If I insist on something and I think it is right, it will be difficult to be convinced. For example, if I want to be an actor, I don’t want to do anything other than being an actor. If you come to Siam, let’s debate. No one is right or wrong, the team is also for your own good, Isn't it a good thing to have a lot of work? But for me, I have to subtract because some things are really not what I want.

GQ: Do you have a perfectionist side?

Xiao Zhan: I just want to do it well, just try my best right now. Maybe the result is not good, but what should I do? This is all I can do.

GQ: Can you accept failure?

Xiao Zhan: I can accept it. I might not have been able to accept it a few years ago, but 30-year-old Xiao Zhan has learned to accept it (laughs).

-END.

#xiao zhan #accio victuuri translation #THE FONT IS SO SMALL I DIED LOL #MY POOR EYES #DO NOT TAKE OUTSIDE OF TUMBLR WITHOUT CREDIT #this is a good candid interview the manages to discuss serious topics! #my heart broke with that answer he gave so i used it as a main quote for this post

[heartfullofleeches]

Small thing with Yan Vampire Harem/ill-tempered Maid Reader

Working quietly, you make your way to the backdoor to enjoy your break in peace. Regardless of your supposed freedom during the time, you were often roped into spending it subjected to the care of your masters as thanks for all you've done. It'd be more welcomed had they not been doing plenty of that during your shift as well. You'd grown some semblance to it by now and would have mostly succumb to their begging had it not been for the guest waiting for you outside.

You ease the door open, but a foot jams it shut halfway. A smirk is pressed to your spine as hands creep to your waist; an all too familiar laugh ringing in your ear.

"Hm.. Good Afternoon to you too, dearest . And where might you have been going without telling your dear caretakers?"

You pull your shoulder from their barrage of kisses. "Outside."

The vampire huffs. "So crass. Why go outside when you can enjoy a nice meal with us all here? There's so much preparation to be done for us to join you out there. It's not fair."

"That's the point. Look, if you let me go out now, I'll think about sleeping in your coffin tonight."

The vampire chuckles. "Deal." They kiss your cheek, sneaking a lick before they slip back into the shadows of the room. You hurry outside before anyone else comes, pulling the door close as gently as possible.

The garden is quiet at this time of day, as it is during all hours till dusk. You and the other servents tend to them daily, but you are the only one who has access to it at all times. It's a combination of the rules being bent towards your favor, and their love for taking you out on a nightly stroll every once in a blue moon.

You stroll on by the fountain. By the rose bushes and bundles of blooming plant life in favor of a group of shrubs by the farther wall. Their leaves wilt and roots separate by past force, giving a clear look into the outside forest on most days. On this, a pair of golden eyes block your sight from the world you once knew.

"I told you not to come anymore, didn't I?" You tone is lax as you reach out and touch the snout of the beast. It rubs its nose against the pad of your hand with a small whine as verbal sign of its stubbornness. Ignoring its protesting sounds as you pull away, you dig around in your satchel until your hand fall on a the smushed paper bag. You take the sandwich from its casing; a note pinned to the plastic around it.

"Have a good day! I hope it treats you well. Please come visit me well. Love you - A"

A took care of most of your meals. It was apparently their only talent and slightly more welcomed than the love letters and music pieces you received. You felt a little guilty for not remembering their name, but as far as you could recall no one here had one that started with it. Pushing the thought out of mind, you slip the note in your pocket; your companion growling in response.

"You don't have to rush me. Here." You hand the unwrapped meal to the animal who snaps it their jaws; your fingers christened by the wind beneath the force of its bite. You pet it as it eats, leaning against the stone wall. You came across the animal not even a month ago. Pruning the same bushes it hid beneath was how you found it. You offered it a spare tomato and the following day you heard its whimpers again. You never saw more than its luminous eyes and shaggy fur, but figured it to be some kind of canine. It shifts around beneath your touch; a gesture gone unnoticed as you heed to the cheerful calls from across the field.

"Y/n! There you are!"

Umbrellas overhead, two hooded figures march your way. Twins, those who never left each others side and tries always to be by yours. Others knew when to distance themselves, but these two were persistent. You remain still; expecting the animal to run off, but its still there.

The pair stop in front of you as the first speaks. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

You hold up the empty paper bag. "Eating."

"Let us know next time, we've been looking all over for you." The other speaks. "Honestly, I don't get what the big deal is about this place. It's far too bright and it smells like a mutt out here."

"A mutt? Now that you mentioned it- it doesn't, but worse. It's almost like a..."

"Get away from that thing."

The twins express various sounds of surpise as a voice speaks from other their shoulders. You're caught off guard as well, as you never see this one outside of rare visits. The Count stares past you and at the bush, clearly on edge. Neutral as ever, you remain in place.

"It's just a wolf and it's harmless. I've fed it for a while and nothing's happened."

"That's not a dog- Y/n, move-"

Before the warning could come, you're suddenly off the ground. Legs swinging in the air, you look down to see two thick limbs caged around you. The creature holds you to its furred chest; claws dangerously close to your neck as it smushes its cheek to yours. The werewolf lets out a soft whine as it licks your jaw.

As the twins scream, you can't help but feel a little gullible for not realizing this sooner. "Honestly should have expected this by now."

The rest of the afternoon is somewhat of a blur. Your masters attempt to get rid of the beast, but there's not much they could do with it carrying you around. It listens to you at some degree as you're able to get it to bring you inside the mansion, but refuses to let you go. They begrudgingly give you the night off until they could find a solution to your new pet.

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere werewolf #yandere vampire #yandere harem #yandere drabble

[pictureinme]

kinktober day viii. VIRGINITY - eli sunday

word count: ~1k tags: breast play, creampie masterlist | ao3

“Oh, look at that…”

Eli smiles with faux innocence as he gazes upon your sleeping form, donned in a thin nightgown for the hot summer nights. He had been late coming home, he could tell you tried your best to stay up for him– you weren’t even under the sheets, much less using a pillow. Curled up like a puppy, he thought.

The two of you had been married for only a week now, but churchly duties come first before any such… husbandly ones. Eli was saving that very duty for you tonight but of course, there was always a barrage of holy questions when he’d rather do anything else.

He rids himself of his shoes and unbuttons his shirt before kneeling next to your resting face, “Let me see your beautiful eyes, (Y/N).”

You stir, only waking as he squeezes your arm slightly. Eli grins as you squint sleepily at him and your smile grows, “Good morning…”

“Not quite, my love,” he gets up onto the bed, hovering over you. “I just wanted to see my pretty wife.”

Eli traces your cheek with a cold finger, and you shiver as you almost fully wake up, “I wanted to stay up for you, I wanted… tonight to be the night.”

His eyes widen, but his expression quickly turns to one of pure warmth, “I… have to admit, that was my true intention for waking you.”

You grin and pull him down by the collar to kiss him sweetly. He laughs into the embrace, but his hands begin to wander to caress your arms– rather roughly. It isn’t unwelcome in the slightest, you felt just as eager to ‘consummate your holy matrimony–’ that was Eli’s way of skirting around the subject, using the more flowery language to describe it. You would prefer ‘making love’ or, when in the proper mood, ‘fuck,’ but he’d have none of that as a man of God.

“I need you,” his hot breath tickles your ear as he makes his way to kiss gently at your neck, “Desperately, my love. May I?”

“Please, Eli.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice as he unceremoniously crawls off of you to rid himself of the rest of his clothing– he needs to be one with you, no manmade barriers would come between your embrace. You follow quickly, only needing to pull your white nightgown over your head and toss it onto the floor.

This wasn’t the first time he had seen your bare self, but this time, Eli practically jumped you once he saw your breasts, “Beautiful, so beautiful.”

You look down at his hardness grinding against you as he explores your body, and mewl at the idea of it being inside of you, “Please… get on with it, I can’t wait.”

“Just let me do this first, love.”

Eli leans down to lick at your breasts, nipping ever so lightly on their curves. You mewl at the time he takes with each of them, memorizing every aspect of them, lest he forget. His other hand kneads the other as he bites gently around your nipple– it feels amazing. Eli’s length continues to rock against your thigh, and you try your best to maneuver it closer to your own arousal.

His tongue flits over your hardened nipples one last time before he moves up to kiss your lips again, “Are you… ready?”

You nod rather quickly, the promise of pleasure after all these years of pining clouding whatever shame you could have possibly felt at this moment. The nervousness inside of you dulls when you see Eli smile as he kneels before your entrance– you feel loved and desired. You could see his hands shaking slightly when he positioned himself in front of you, the tip of his length so close, yet so far.

“I’m ready, Eli.”

He nods, trying to rid himself of any fears he may be holding onto. He pushes inside you, the wetness of your arousal only doing so much to lessen the stretch. You watch as his entirety fits inside of you– it is hypnotic as much as it is painful. A moan erupts from your throat as he’s sheathed to the hilt, Eli’s breathing ragged as ever.

“You’re so…” His eyes are shut tightly, “Warm, and tight, my love.”

Your hips move on their own, desperate to feel more of him. He begins to move slowly, in and out, little moans escaping his throat with even the most minor of movements. You spread your legs even further, wrapping them around his body– that’s when Eli’s eyes finally open to gaze upon the woman he married. His thrusts increase in pace as you meet his gaze, your blown-out bedroom eyes meeting his practically crazed ones.

“Oh, God,” Eli cries out as you clench down, “I don’t, oh– I don’t know if I’ll last.”

A part of you didn’t want him to. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

Your gentle voice elicits a pathetic moan to crack out from his throat, and his head lolls back as he chases his promised pleasure. You move your hand down to rub at your unattended clit, wanting to see him fall apart– all because of you. Who could resist such a delectable power play?

Eli stutters in his movements, his expression looking almost pained– he was close, and you wanted him inside.

“Come on, come inside of me, love…”

His eyes shut yet again as he lets out a rather high-pitched moan as he releases inside of you– the warmth of it only encouraging you to get off quicker. You feel your peak approaching as you watch his chest, glistening with sweat, rise and fall rapidly. Eli watches with nothing but love in his eyes as you whimper into your orgasm.

#eli sunday x reader #paul dano x reader #eli sunday smut #paul dano smut #kinktober 2023

[slytherheign]

WE WERE HAPPY | max verstappen

A BONUS PART OF BROKEN GLASS AND HONEY SERIES.

CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT.

PAIRINGS: ex!max verstappen x fem!reader, slight daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

SUMMARY: max reminisces the past while still hoping there will be a future with you.

WARNINGS: breakup, allusions to a hidden relationship, feelings of hurt and regret. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 16+]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. i’m saying sorry in advance for hurting y’all lmao enjoy the first bonus part of the series!

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO TO SERIES MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

Judgement.

The very thing Max had to endure from his waking day to his resting night.

Society had this insatiable hunger for every detail of his life. It was as if he was living in a fishbowl, constantly under the microscope of public opinion. And while some people were fine handling the judgment and the unsolicited advice, he didn’t want to handle them.

Love, to him, was something pure, something tender that deserved to be nurtured in privacy and solitude. He wanted to protect its fragile beauty from the harsh winds of judgment that inevitably blew his way. There was something incredibly sacred about love when it was shielded from prying eyes. When it was allowed to blossom in the quiet corners of life, away from the constant scrutiny of the world. It felt like a precious secret, something that only you and he held dear, and that was what he wanted to protect.

He knew that for something to be protected, it needed a shield.

And that was what he did—a shield. He created one just for you.

He had seen just what would happen when relationships became public knowledge. Every moment was always dissected, analyzed, and twisted to fit the warped narratives society loved to create. Suddenly, the private joys would become a subject of gossip, and the heartfelt moments would be displayed as entertainment for the masses.

He refused to let his love life become another spectacle for the world to feast upon. He refused to subject you to the constant barrage of opinions and criticisms. It wasn't about being deceitful or hiding what you had with him. No, it was about preserving the peace he had found and ensuring that the love flourished away from the harsh glare of public scrutiny.

He was trying to protect his peace. But above all, he was trying to protect your peace.

He wanted the love you shared to be pure, unadulterated by outside influences, and unburdened by the expectations imposed upon him. He wanted it to be a sanctuary, a haven where he could truly be himself without the need to conform to societal norms.

So, he continued to keep your relationship hidden from the public eye, not out of shame, but out of a deep desire to protect the delicate balance you and him had created. 

He believed in the happiness within the sanctuary he had built with you, away from the prying eyes of the outside world. Because, for him, that was where his peace and yours truly resided.

It was funny how his mind wandered back to the memories he held dear, even when those memories were filled with bittersweet reminders of what once was. He found himself revisiting the past, reliving moments when happiness was a constant companion, but now, it felt like a distant dream.

You were happy.

He used to secretly walk along the streets with you, back when the porch lights were shining bright and he would wear some ridiculous outfit that was far from his usual style just to keep people away from knowing who he was.

The world felt so much brighter with you. He missed the way your laughter would fill a room and all the things you did before he eventually had somewhere to be. He missed how your touch could heal the deepest wounds within his soul back when he still had all your nights. 

And you were happy.

He missed the love you shared, the knowing glances, the silent understanding of each other's hearts.

He could recall a good while back, when he snuck into your apartment. You threw your arms around his neck back when he still deserved it.

You were happy.

Back when it was good, it was good.

No one could touch the way you both laughed in the dark, talking about your family business you were going to inherit someday.

And you were happy.

You used to watch the sun go down on the boats in the water with him. That was sort of how he felt right now. At least now he knew that going down with you was far better than feeling down without you.

But the worst thing of all, far worse than being without you, was seeing you with Daniel.

He hated the voices in his head telling him you were better with Daniel. But as much as he wanted to get away from them, they didn't give him choices because he also knew there was a truth in what those voices said. And that truth was what his tears were for.

'Cause you were happy.

But not with him.

There was a time when he had it all. Love wrapped around him like a warm embrace, filling his days with laughter and his heart with contentment. You were both so incredibly happy. He had found his soulmate, his partner in crime, and together you painted a beautiful picture of love.

You shared dreams, hopes, and aspirations. Your love was this incredible force, propelling each other forward, pushing both of you to become the best versions of yourselves. Every smile, every touch, every stolen moment seemed like a chapter from a fairytale.

But then, he made a terrible mistake. He let his fears and insecurities overwhelm him, clouding his judgment and poisoning his relationship with you. He pushed away the very person who had given him so much joy. He let his own demons sabotage the happiness you had built together.

He wondered if he should tell you what happened back in his home race week.

He was staying at his family home before the race weekend started. Sat on the couch with his family and his phone in his hand, he showed your face to his family.

They had asked him where you were but he could only shrug. 

He finally introduced you to his family.

But only with pictures because you weren’t there.

Words could not describe what he felt when he saw you with Daniel. God knew how much he wanted to pull you away from him that moment but all he could do was freeze on his spot and look away.

That should've been him by your side. 

But the truth was, he messed up. He let the fear of losing what he had due to public judgment consume him, and in doing so, he lost it all. The regret and guilt he was carrying weighed heavy on his heart, reminding him of what he had and what he foolishly let slip away.

All he needed now was a second chance.

And he swore to never lose you again.

You might be with Daniel now, but he wasn't giving up.

One thing was sure, he wasn't going down without a fight.

He wanted you to be the one he would marry someday.

And you would be happy.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

FORMULA ONE TAGLIST: @dreamingofautopia @lpab @matildrry

are you team max or team daniel? vote here. also, message me or comment down below if you want to be added to my taglist! specify if you want to be added to my main (slytherheign) taglist where i’ll tag you in everything i publish in the future or just the formula one taglist.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen angst #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fan fiction #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x you #max verstappen x female reader #daniel ricciardo x female reader #formula one imagine #daniel ricciardo x y/n #broken glass and honey: the series #rheignwrites: angst avenue #we were happy #taylor swift #spotify

[familyabolisher]

re. the barrage of posts where the joke always seems to be "[subject of the joke] lacks an understanding of or ability to engage with ~literature as i understand it and in posting/reblogging this i am affirming that i am outside of the category to which they are now discursively relegated":

what's at stake here has less to do with asking whether the take that's being derided is a legitimately "bad" or disagreeable take and more with asking whether the terms being established by the disagreement (to which you implicitly agree when you engage with it) are actually ethically viable.

#.txt

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

The IDF confirmed that yesterday's barrage of rockets at Tel Aviv and its vicinity was fired out of a zone that it defined as "humanitairan" (meaning an area it encouraged civilians to evacuate to).

We're seeing more and more Palestinians who speak up against Hamas. In the past (even during this war), Al-Jazeera "journalists" cut off Gazans who were criticizng Hamas. Now we have a small shift, where this journalist is still trying to persuade this woman not to criticize Hamas, but he doesn't cut her off as she insists on expressing her anger, that all of the aid to Gazans is being stolen by Hamas terrorists:

After a battle with terrorists inside a UN school in the neighborhood of Shujayiah in Gaza, IDF soldiers documented finding weapons hidden inside a teddy bear (first vid in this article).

As you might remember, I work at Yad Vashem, Israel's national Holocaust museum, research and education center, which also studies Jewish history in general, a subject that obviously includes the history of antisemitism. However, the scope of the history we covered always stopped roughly at when the last Jewish Holocaust survivor left the last DP (displaced persons) camp, which is 1956. The assumption was always that we will research historical antisemitism, and people will be able to take that knowledge, learn from it, and apply it to current ("new") antisemitism, without us tackling it directly. Following the biggest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, the global rise in amtisemitic attacks in reaction to it, and the academic rot we have witnessed in dealing with antisemitism on the campuses of some of the most important universities in the world, this is going to change. YV will expand the work of our research institute into new antisemitism (anti-Zionism, really).

Yesterday, three Hezbollah terrorists were killed in a strike in Syria. You absolutely should be asking yourself why Hezbollah, a terrorist organization that claims to be the "defender of Lebanon," had a unit operating in Syria. Just a reminder: there have been rockets fired at Israel from Syria.

Another thing that happened yesterday, is that we got confirmation Hamas is also using female terrorists. So when you hear, "This is the number of children killed! This is the number of women killed!" (beyond a healthy suspicision we should all have of the uncorroborated figures provided by a terrorist organization), remember that Hamas uses teenagers and women as terrorists, not just as human shields. And it will NEVER report them as such. It barely recognizes that any terrorists were killed in this war, even though independent estimates indicate that "above 5,000 terrorists" is the most conservative estimate on this matter.

Unlike Hamas, which doesn't admit when women fight and die for it, Israel is proud of its female fighters. Here's a vid about a group of soldiers who made history on Oct 7, being the first female tankists in the world to fight in an armored battle.

This is 25 years old Sahar Baruch.

On Oct 7, he was kidnapped to Gaza. Hamas has published a vid that first showed sahar captured, and then showed his lifeless and bloodied body, indicating that he was murdered in captivity. May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #Youtube

[lovehotelreservation]

Thrust System - Trust System [6/7]

Summary: While delving into the depths of a dungeon, you wanted to be sure that your companions were people that you could trust and who would have your back.

In this case, they’d also have your ass too.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Thancred/G’raha/F!Reader/Urianger/Estinien

[Previous Chapter]

[Next Chapter]

hello 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

thank you 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

please enjoy 😭😭

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

What a journey it had been.

Not only within the maddened frenzy that led up to your time here at the Lunar Palace, but simply overall.

In the span of your adventure thus far–whether through hard-fought victory seized by your unwavering spirit or punishing failure that left you humbled and perhaps even scarred–you learned to adapt to any situation as necessary with the various abilities and skills you had attained and honed, whether on your own or under the wing of a mentor.

If you were going to keep your loved ones safe, this was absolutely crucial.

If Estinien needed to be healed while the others were busy squaring off with the foul creatures of a dungeon, you were ready to conjure Cure to salve his wounds.

If Thancred or G’raha needed more force to send a magitek monstrosity crumbling down, just a wave of your hand to call upon the power of the Ifrit was all you needed.

And it wasn’t to say that you were ill prepared to ever draw the ire of a vicious beast to mitigate its assault and attention away from Urianger while he gathered his magic to raise up a shield for your party.

You were quite handy with a sword and shield, in fact.

However, with no armor, no clothes, only time would soon tell and witness how you were going to withstand this encroaching and relentless barrage that was meant to target you and you alone.

Naked, weakened from being constantly subjected to the whims of your unorthodox prison, flushed and at a loss for breath–you could only do your best to cover your nude form with your hands while you inspected the faces of your dearest companions.

Merely phantoms drawn forth by the palace’s zealots, your giggling and mischievous phantom copies dissipated into the air the moment they set foot into the throne room after fulfilling their goal. A goal that was currently unbeknownst to you, but one that needed no further explanation.

With each step they took towards you, darkened eyes contrasting with the vibrant pink glow of their bracelets, having the four fully focused on your body as they drank in the sight of your present blushing distress made matters become increasingly clear:

One way or another, you were going to be taking on Thancred, G’raha, Urianger, and Estinien.

Considering you looked to be the most level-headed one out of everyone’s crazed states, you could have called each of them to reason, to snap out of their stupor and break free from the influence of the bracelets.

But how could you when your body was the most affected by the palace’s contraptions?

Your companions still had the strength to stand and step forward.

You were left on the floor, wondering and yearning for who would make the first move and finally relieve the ache that was possessing your body.

Would it be Thancred, with his once roguish Casanova ways stirring from slumber to leave you squirming beneath his teasing and experienced touch as he whispered utter filth into your ear before having you bear the might of his thrusts, now strengthened by his might and experience as a Gunbreaker?

With how poor G’raha was at hiding his feelings for you, it would be little surprise if he were to so much as pounce right at you to demonstrate his long-harbored yearning by flooding your core full with his seed.

As for Urianger, you were well aware that even he–with his impeccable grace and immeasurable patience–could only maintain his near saintly composure for so long before he would beseech to bury his face between your thighs.

And certainly not to be forgotten, Estinien deemed you as his partner for a reason and so it was certain that he would make sure that you remember how the shape of his cock would feel inside of you.

The answer as to who would be first and finally bring you relief was not coming fast enough, and thus, after gathering your thoughts, you finally spoke up at last, your voice soft yet heavy with need,

“Will you all help me?”

They replied all at once.

Armor clanked against the floor while a flurry of clothes soon joined, with hungry lips claiming yours and their hands meeting your body even faster.

The four surrounded you, crowding around where you were currently sitting on the floor of the throne room.

Knights to their majesty, disciples to their god–there was reason for this all to transpire within the center of the throne room of the once dignified and anointed Lunar Palace, which had witnessed decades upon decades of this very ritual across time with the likes of nobles, army commanders, to even more daring members of The Forum looking for thrills outside of scrolls and regulation.

Now, it was you and the men you loved with all your heart.

Your lips were claimed by G’raha’s in the neediest of kisses as his tongue was desperate to plunge into your mouth for a sample of your taste. For Estinien, he already had a handful of your breasts, groping your flesh and pinching at your nipples. 

Urianger was occupied with kissing along your neck while his fingers–ever experienced with flicking through the cards of his tarot deck–were preoccupied with feathering and circling over your clit. This worked in tandem with Thancred, who had damn near slid across the floor in order to plant his face right in-between your thighs, his experienced tongue dragging and stroking along your drooling core.

A bit of relief for the overwhelming ache that was wracking through your body, which–within your crumbling sense of mind–you sought to return the favor by bringing your hands to grasp at and caress G’raha’s and Urianger’s stiff cocks. And with the added attention of Estinien and Thancred amidst your overwhelmed state, between a few kisses, caresses and licks, it was not long until you were arching your back with a cry as you were brought to orgasm.

The first of many for this ritual.

Especially as Thancred did not hesitate to lift himself up off the ground to kneel before you instead, his fingers reaching for the base of his cock while he readied to slide his thick girth right into your core. A delighted hiss escaped him as he was quickly welcomed by hot, velvety tightness.

“Now this was worth sprinting all over this damn dungeon for.”

His arms wrapping tight around you, Thancred drew your body close against him as he quickly began to push into your core at a vigorous pace, stealing a kiss from your lips as he did so. At the same time, he proceeded to lift you up so he could be the one to lay on the ground instead, keeping you right on top of his toned and chiseled form instead.

With the pop of a bottled salve followed by heavy and heady breath, G’raha coated his dick as fully as he could with the thick and viscous solution, his ears perked and tail swirling with anticipation, all while his crimson eyes were trained on your backside, his heart fluttering at the idea of fantasy becoming reality. Of course, while his mind had long since succumbed to the influence of the Lunar Palace, he still was careful with applying the salve’s contents upon the tight ring of your asshole.

“If relief is what you need, then I gladly pledge to be used at your desire.”

He meant to be more thorough, but the helpless mewl for him to start fucking you from your lips had his mind going blank, his hands clutching at your hips, his lips seeking your neck, and his cock plunging right into your ass. By contrast to Thancred, the pace he began to work himself into was slower yet focused more on pushing in as deeply as he could, wanting nothing more than to savor this sensation, this moment of being one with you at long last.

And certainly, not and never to be left out, Urianger and Estinien were already standing close by, delighting in any kiss from your lips or strokes of your palm upon their dicks. While you were much too preoccupied with getting hammered into by your other companions, they were biding their time for their turn.

Because both were going to devastate you thoroughly.

Over and over, plunging in and out in tandem, it wasn’t long until both Thancred and G’raha were pouring their hot sticky cum inside your core and your ass–the former with a roared curse while the latter with a delighted hiss–as you squealed with your own orgasm.

You sagged right on Thancred’s chest, taking comfort for the touch of his hand stroking your side while G’raha kissed along your shoulder blades.

“Surely, your stamina can go a few more rounds, right partner?”

What you felt next was the warmth of G’raha’s body heat dissipating from behind as he withdrew out from you, just before you found yourself being carried and lifted to be sandwiched upright in-between Urianger and Estinien as they stood, with the former purring out,

“And rest assured, for all that we shalt subject thou to, I will dedicate mine spirit to healing your aches and satisfying your indulgences.”

Estinien’s hands were cradling your ass as he lowered you right onto his long, stiff cock, with Urianger sliding his dick into your core soon afterwards, the two in unison as they speared inside of you at a brisk rhythm.

You scrambled for more support, more contact, more touch. Your arms wrapped around Urianger’s neck as you drew him in for a kiss, which he was more than happy to oblige. Were it not for Estinien’s sturdy arms having hooked beneath your thighs both to help keep you up and to keep your legs parted and open for the two to freely pump their cocks in and out of you, you would have hugged around your darling scholar’s waist as well.

Regardless, you remained spoiled by the stark contrast between the two.

Lips ever so used to speaking in flowery elegance danced upon yours for kisses while teeth that once bore the fangs of draconic possession sought to leave bitten claim upon the side of your neck.

Soft and slender fingers that were more familiar with strumming through countless tomes sought to circle around and toy with your nipples whereas hands that were roughened by a life of harvest and battle continued to cup and grope your breasts.

Trapped in-between Urianger and Estinien as you were made to bounce on their cocks, a glance to the side had you witness Thancred and G’raha hungrily awaiting for your attention while both stroked along the length of their stiff dicks.

What had transpired thus far was merely a sampling.

The true feast was yet to come.

It was by this thought that your eyes rolled, your lips cried, your body trembled.

Right after this orgasm was when time began to blur in overwhelming euphoric delirium.

You could recall the sight of G’raha’s hand grasping at the back of yours as you remained on your hands and knees while he was positioned right behind you, a gasped chant of your name matching the hurried tempo of his thrusts as he continued to pump your core full with his seed without restraint.

At some point you found yourself in the middle yet again, kept standing by Thancred pounding away into you near endlessly from behind, his hands gripping your wrists with ease while your body sagged before him in pleasure all while your mouth was fed with the full length of Urianger’s dick as his fingers stroked through your hair as his breathless praises mingled with Thancred’s cheeky ones.

The sensation of Estinien’s lips smothering yours for kisses was practically etched onto your body, especially as he continued to have you bounce up and down his dick while you were seated on his lap, his hands guiding your pace as they fondled and squeezed your ass.

By this point, the lascivious clutch of the palace’s wicked influence had long since waned. What transpired now and onwards was simply the pursuit of pleasure, the fulfillment of instinct, and–most of all–the release of amorous feelings that had long been trapped away, obscured by a myriad of reasons. Your journey thus far brought you here to seek passage to the moon. Yet as you remained in the center between the four who made your adventure, your life that much more complete, you would only continue to see heaven and its stars over and over again.

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

i was originally going to conclude everything on this chapter but i thought it was better to properly wrap things up by adding another piece--esp with how long this chapter had taken to finally be finished and posted ; v ; thank you so much for your patience and i hope to see you all for the conclusion!!!

#thancred x reader #thancred x wol #g'raha tia x wol #g'raha tia x reader #urianger x wol #urianger x reader #estinien x wol #estinien x reader #estinien wyrmblood #estinien varlineau #thancred waters #g'raha tia #urianger augurelt #FFXIV #reader insert #Thrust System #Fic #super freaknasty writing

[animebw]

I've been struggling to figure out how to write this post for the past couple weeks. Part of me thinks I shouldn't bother writing it at all. Not like my words will accomplish much in the grand scheme of things. But if I don't say anything, these thoughts will just keep gnawing at my mind like caged animals. And as the chaos in Palestine shows no signs of slowing, I need to get this out before it's too late for my words to do anything but cast regretful looks back at a moment I was too cowardly to add my voice to.

So.

Most of you don't know this, but I'm Jewish. Not incredibly so; my dad's side of the family is full of active temple-goers and worshippers, but I've mostly just tagged along for holidays and bar mitzvahs. It's a part of myself I used not to think that much about, just one aspect of my life among many. But in recent years as right-wing anti-semitism has ramped up, I've begun appreciating my Jewish connections more and more. Judaism may not be a religion I follow, but it's been an integral part of my culture and community over the years. It's the connections I share with my extended family who I usually only see a couple times a year on Passover and Hannukah but nevertheless tie us together unshakably. Being Jewish is an indelible part of me, and I've always wanted to make a more active effort in connecting with and exploring that part of my heritage. There was even a time back in college where I was tentatively planning a birthright trip to Israel to connect with my ancestral roots or whatever. Classic post-graduation travel abroad stuff.

It feels really weird to think back on that now.

I've never read much of the Torah, I admit. Not like I could, since I never learned Hebrew. But everything I've picked up about Judaism over the years has overwhelmingly painted it as a call for compassion, kindness, and community. Yes, the world can be cruel, it says, which is why we must add light to the darkness wherever we can. Celebrate the freedoms we've won. Cherish the bonds we've forged. Weep even for those who've wronged us as they suffered in turn from God's judgement. Judaism, to me, has always been about how absolutely essential it is to choose love over bitterness and hatred. It is our responsibility to cultivate a kinder, better world, so those who come after us need not suffer the same ills as us. It's been a comfort in many rocky periods of my life.

And it is with that perspective that I say unequivocally: what Israel's government is doing to Palestine is indefensible. Bombing hospitals, dropping chemical weapons, denying critical aid to innocent civilians trapped in the barrage, even bombing safe routes they themselves told Palestinians to take. Displacing people from their homes, their lives, their dignity with no regard for their basic humanity. Speaking with increasingly dangerous rhetoric with a desire to wipe the entire population off the face of the map. Never mind the decades upon decades of abuse that Palestine has already suffered under Israeli occupation, second-class apartheid citizens in their own homeland. There is no excuse on the face of the planet that can justify this cruelty and carnage.

Yes, Hamas are bloodthirsty terrorists themselves, and there can be no peace until they are brought to justice. But Israel's actions in response to the October 7 attacks have long crossed the boundaries of justified retaliation. What Bibi Netanyahu and his far-right government are enacting upon Gaza is exactly the same breed of genocide that has been enacted upon Jews across the world throughout history. From our subjugation in Egypt through the Holocaust, we know all too well how it feels to face this evil, see it rip through our communities as it seeks to tear apart the fabric of our very personhood. So to see the craven extremists in Israel's government invoke those horrors in an attempt to justify subjecting another downtrodden, oppressed people to the same fate... I don't think I can properly describe how angry it makes me.

Netenyahu and his government do not speak for all Jews. Hell, according to recent polls, they don't even speak for most Israelis anymore. They do not get to claim Judaism for their own murderous purposes. They do not get to use my voice as justification for their war crimes. They betray the soul of this culture with every hospital they blow to bits and every scrap of aid they deny the suffering children next door. And I refuse to be silent in face of their propaganda. I refuse to let this culture, which has been nothing but a source of kindness and community to me, to be weaponized to excuse the same monstrosities we celebrate rising above every year. I refuse to accept their definition of Judaism as long as I have breath to speak against it.

Palestine deserves freedom. Palestine deserves self-autonomy. Palestine deserves the same kindness that Judaism preaches to all downtrodden people of the world. And Israel must stop this senseless slaughter before their history of surviving the world's horrors ends with them becoming the horror in someone else's scripture. Find and destroy Hamas without punishing the people of Gaza- over half of whom weren't even born when Hamas came to power- for their crimes. Work toward a two-state solution where Jews and Arabs, Israelis and Palestinians, can live side by side in solidarity of the trials they've both overcome. Remember compassion in a world that venerates blind hatred. Remember the kindness we claim rises above all attempts to squash it down. Remember that the heart of Judaism is supporting those who struggle through darkness, helping them find their way out into the light.

Remember who we claim to be.

And refuse to let us be defined by death.

#FreePalestine

#politics #israel #palestine #gaza #free palestine #not anime #important #judaism #jewish

[alzirr0]

"Would you still love me if I were a worm?" Part 2

Feat: Pollux, and Sirius

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Crack

Warnings: Mildly suggestive on Sirius' part of the story (we all know how he gets)

Navigation: Part 1: Spica, Alpheratz | Part 2

Pollux

"...Huh? Where's the punchline?" Pollux asks, voice slightly muffled with his cheeks adorably puffed out in mid-chew of a spoonful of pancake he shoved in his mouth moments prior. He's clad in his casual attire, sitting across you in a café you frequent together.

"There's no punchline. I am asking you." You fix him an expectant look as you repeat your question, "Would you still love me if I were a worm?"

Pollux tries his best not to gawk at you as if you've grown two heads. His bicolored eyes dart across your face, trying to gauge whether you're really expecting an answer from him or not. Seeing the unyielding gaze you're giving him, he deduces that you, in fact, are waiting for an answer to your rather odd question. He remains unresponsive for several seconds more. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think your inquiry had broken Pollux.exe.

“For how long are you going to resemble a mute?”

Pollux finally snaps out of his trance, swallowing his mouthful of pancakes before granting you a response, “Geez, give me a break, I just can’t believe you want me to answer that,” he grumbles, pushing the food around his plate with his cutlery, suddenly not finding his meal very appetizing. "I don't know... is this a trick question? Can I just answer with a no?"

"You can, but that'll only imply you wouldn't have taken an interest in me if—"

"What?! That definitely isn't it!” Pollux protests, not even allowing you to finish your statement. He runs a dainty hand through his soft locks in mild frustration. He really is the type who's easily worked up, you note. “But... you'd be a worm."

"And?" There’s a defiant tilt to your chin, as if you’re challenging him.

“I mean, how is that going to work for us? Should I start learning how to communicate with a worm? Would you still choose to love me if you were a worm and I am still me? ” You bite the insides of your cheeks to refrain from breaking into an amused grin as Pollux fires at you his barrage of questions, "If I ask you the same thing, how are you gonna answer then?"

"You're evading my question, I asked you first."

"Fine! Fine..." he trails off, mumbling barely audible words, which you somehow manage to discern are actually complaints. "Yeah, yeah, I'd still love or whatever the worm version of you."

"Now you're just saying that because you know I'd be disappointed otherwise."

He shoots you a disbelieving look, whining as he throws his arms in the air exasperatedly. "Y/n, Y/n, what should I do then? Why are you even asking me this? It's so weird..." His brows begin to furrow in concern. "With my luck, what if something bad happens to you because of me? I won't be able to forgive myself."

You give him a reassuring smile, dismissing his worries as you reach out to give a comforting poke on his cheek, which he playfully swats, a coy smile forming on his lips.

"Forget it then, Pol. But can I ask you another question?" You inquire saccharinely, trying to lighten up the mood.

He perks up and nods in agreement before taking a large gulp of his drink, happy to change the subject.

"Would you still love me if I were a louse?"

It's almost comical how fast he visibly deflates, shoulders sagging exasperatedly as he slumps back on his seat. "Y/n, Y/n, that question doesn't make sense at all either!" He exclaims.

You snicker as Pollux frowns, looking so done with your shenanigans. Scoffing, he gestures his hand in your direction. "What would you want me to do then? I'll just go with whatever you want."

You look at him dead in the eye as you reply, "Put me on your scalp and let me thrive there."

Pollux recoils in horror, heterochromatic eyes blown so wide you fear they'll fall out of their sockets. "The hell?! Y/n that's gross!"

Feigning being crestfallen by his reaction, you jut your lower lip out in a pout and painstakingly avert your gaze. Upon seeing your expression, Pollux immediately backpedals.

"Wait! Fine! What you said," he begrudgingly concedes. "On my scalp, you'd stay. Make it itchy I don’t care anymore. Go wild."

You can't help but cackle at his defeated tone, offering him a pleasant smile once you regain your composure.

"But, how are we even going to hang out if things are gonna be like that?" he sulks. His face crumples in a mix of deep thought and perhaps, the still lingering confusion your question had left in its wake. He's pensive for a moment as he mulls over his previous query, as if not being able to hang out with you would be his biggest problem in a scenario where you’re no longer a human.

"Well I don't know about you. In my case I'd literally be hanging on your hair strands," you wheeze when Pollux just raises a hand in surrender. "Don't fret about it too much, let's just say I’m still capable of human speech even as a louse. More chitchat time for us since we'd be practically glued together."

"That would be a different twist to having a conversation in my head," he notes thoughtfully.

"More like having a conversation with the parasite on your head."

"People who would happen to see me talking to you like that would think I'm a loony," Pollux murmurs, but after picturing himself getting caught in mid-conversation with you as a louse, he can't help but let out an amused snort. Shoving another spoonful of his food to his mouth, Pollux goes back to enjoying his meal as your conversation comes into a lull.

Suddenly remembering that you’ve been meaning to ask him to lend you his notes for a lecture you’ve missed when you’ve fallen asleep zoned out during the discussion in one of your classes, you call for his attention once again.

“By the way Pol, I’ve been meaning to ask you about—”

Pollux snaps his head in your direction with a dreadful look in his heterochromatic eyes.

"Please don't ask me 'would you still love me if I were a mosquito?' next and demand that I let you bite my arm and suck my blood dry," he pleads.

You blink at him before you roar with laughter as you double over. Pollux looks at you with an affronted expression, before eventually seeing the humor in it too as his shoulders shake when he laughs with abandon. In between your fits of laughter, you manage to assure him that you won't ask him questions like that again… for now.

Cue Pollux whining in protest.

Sirius

"Absolutely,” he confidently replies without even batting an eye. His eyes that fondly remind you of a kaleidoscope twinkle mischievously when he smiles at you. "For you I'd be a worm too, Summoner. I'd be keeping you company."

You snort a laugh as you nod approvingly. “Not the worst answer. You pass, I guess.”

His eyebrows quirk up at your remark. “Was that supposed to be a test? Such a strange way of phrasing it, I must say,” he comments before turning his head to focus on the path ahead.

Sirius gravitates closer to you as the both of you trek down the streets leading to the theatre to watch another play, which Sirius had insisted on buying tickets for, so you can watch it together. A comfortable silence envelopes you as you fall in stride with him. The sun is just beginning to set, but in spite of the fact that the day is coming to an end, there’s still a busy flow of people in the area that is yet to dwindle out.

"Do you know that some worms are hermaphrodites? An individual’s body has a set of both male and female reproductive organs,” Sirius muses out loud, breaking the serenity.

You turn your head to face the man beside you, paying attention to what he has to say as you expect him to further elaborate his little trivia.

Sirius meets your gaze, his lips pressed into a sly smirk. “If we are to live as one of them, we should pick a type that had long gone extinct, and repopulate it together."

You nearly trip, and almost choke on your own spit. "You did not just say that."

"Oh but I just did,” he pipes up, rather pleased of himself for a reason unbeknownst to you.

You give him the side eye as you brace yourself for whatever kind of nonsense he's going to blabber about.

“I'd finally have you all to myself. I don't mind whatever shape or form I'll have to take," he continues, not breaking eye contact, you note that they're sparkling in a way that you can't read what really lies on his mind. “The idea isn't extremely repulsive. Think about it, Y/n. No duty, no responsibility, and most of all, no… distractions.” Sirius lists each advantage he can think of, lifting a finger for each one.

"Yep, not happening," you proclaim.

"Is that rejection I hear? Lacking tact too, I see," he laments, clutching his chest in faux hurt. "You really do know how to wound a man, Summoner."

"Quit with the dramatics, that won't sway me," you chide.

“Let’s give it a chance. If things go awry we can always just return to our true forms,” Sirius stresses almost every word as if doing so will make you see his point, which you firmly believe is non-existent anyway. "So, what do you say if I tell you I’m more than ready to go and give it a try right here and then?”

"If you transform yourself into a worm right now I'd crush you under my shoe."

"Lovingly? A bit on the sadistic side, but I don't mind if you're into that. I'm always willing to try new things with you—"

"Sirius!"

"You're breaking my heart here." Sirius sullenly shakes his head, sighing dejectedly in an attempt to pull at your heartstrings.

You wrinkle your nose at his theatrics. "Why don't you tell me something about this play we're about to watch instead? You were so adamant in convincing me to watch it with you."

"Eager to drop the subject that you, yourself, were the one who brought it up in the first place?" he taunts, quirking an eyebrow teasingly.

You shoot him an unamused look. Eyes narrowing dangerously, to which Sirius only gives you a winning smile of his in return.

"Alright, I digress. As always, I picked only the best seats for us. Wouldn't want my wiggly worm to miss out on anything since what we're about to watch—"

"Your what? " you squawk as you turn to him in horror. Sirius opens his mouth to reply but just before he can say even more absurd things, you interject, "You are not calling me that."

"You may call me yours, too. It's the perfect pet name for us, is it not?" Sirius responds, deliberately ignoring your earlier demand.

"You better not be serious right now."

"How can I not when I actually go by that name?"

"Bye."

Intent on leaving him behind, you quicken your pace. Not wanting to garner the attention of the other people passing by, you resist the urge to become a runner and a track star just to increase the distance between the two of you. Your attempt turns out to be futile anyway, for within a few long strides, Sirius manages to keep up with you with no trouble at all, smiling down at you brightly. You silently curse his long legs.

You can only hope that he won't actually keep on calling you that horrendous and absolutely not flattering pet name he came up with. The nerve of this man, you initiated this conversation expecting that you'll get a few good laughs out of it because of his reactions. But this man pulled an uno reverse card by turning you into his source of entertainment instead.

Sirius slips his hand into yours and gives it a tentative squeeze. "I meant every word I've said Y/n. Well, atleast most of it." He playfully winks as the both of you enter the doors of the building hand in hand.

a/n: I hope you'll find it in yourself to enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed the writing process.

I didn't expect I'll have that much fun, haha. Once I've laid down the general idea, the characters pretty much wrote their own dialogues and I just went with the flow. Busying myself in making this helped me cope from the lack of new in-game content 🤧 let's all hang in there. xx

#arcana twilight #arcana twilight fanfic #arcana twilight fluff #pollux arcana twilight #arcana twilight pollux #sirius arcana twilight #arcana twilight sirius #arcana twilight x reader #arcana twilight x mc #arcana twilight x you #arcana twilight x y/n #sirius x reader #pollux x reader #ArTw #lucy dream #storytaco #arcana twilight imagines #arcana twilight mc #arcana twilight headcanons #otome game #writings

[darkcircles4lyfe]

labor of love

Thinking back on the books and shows that have captivated me most over the years, I’ve noticed that a significant part of my enjoyment comes through glimpses of the creator themselves. The human, fallible, subjective, personal, and unique perspective that bleeds through. I'm forever trying to see things from the other way around instead of as the audience. As I become more familiar with a person’s work, I almost imagine myself as the close friend who can see bits and pieces of their loved one in everything the write. 

When I deal with fandoms or read and listen to media criticism, I inevitably get slapped in the face by the absence of this habit in other people. Maybe it’s because of concepts like “entertainment” and “consumption” making art into a product we spend our money on, and therefore we feel it owes us something. Maybe it’s the trend of pretending arbitrary differences in taste are actually somehow a basis for objective criticism. Regardless, even though I see plenty of reminders all over fandom spaces encouraging people to just enjoy things without worrying about whether they have some sort of intellectual merit, I don't see much acknowledgement of the creator’s point of view here. 

So let’s talk about creative work as what it is: somebody’s dream, which brewed in the dark and solitary chambers of their mind, real but invisible to the outside world. By some miracle of good fortune and incredibly hard work, that dream is made accessible to us, the audience. It’s difficult to express how surreal that really is. Not all media is like this, of course. But sometimes you can see when a story is made with love, that the creator is so in awe of this miracle that they bring all of themselves into it. When that happens, I too fall in love, and preference no longer seems to matter. It’s not, “I enjoy this thing because it’s so ME,” it’s more, “I enjoy it because it’s so THEM.”  

I worry sometimes that I have rose-tinted glasses on, but here’s the thing. We seem to over-associate criticism with logic, and praise with delusion, when in reality they are both limited. What I’m talking about here is neither. Sorry if this sounds cheesy, but I think “to love,” means “to know.” It’s where flaws and strengths blend together into a whole that is understood as it is cherished. 

All these various observations have been tumbling around in my head more and more since I’ve gotten into this funny little thing called Boku no Hero Academia. It’s so popular, so polarizing, it draws in such a wide range of opinions from so many different kinds of people. I find it fascinating to watch, but, like I just said, it also tends to slap me in the face. Not out of personal offense, mind you. More than anything I’m stunned by how disconnected a lot of people are from this human element, whether they are being negative or positive. Even if they know enough to invoke the name of Horikoshi, they treat him like more of a figure than a real person. 

It’s true none of us can actually truly know him. However, I think that while the author/audience relationship is a somewhat parasocial one, it’s worth acknowledging the mutuality of it as well. Let me take you all on a little journey to bring “the creator” down to Earth. 

First, a few plain facts: Before bnha, Horikoshi was able to get two other manga into serialization: Oumagadoki Zoo and Barrage. The former lasted 37 chapters from 2010 to 2011. Barrage lasted 16 chapters, in 2012. Juxtapose this with Boku no Hero Academia, which as of writing this, has been running for over 370 chapters spanning 8+ years since 2014. Horikoshi is currently 36 years old (born in 1986). 

Now let’s go back even further. His first one-shot was published in 2007, when he was 21. It’s called Tenko, and you can read it in English here. Most obviously, we can see that this Tenko character was later adapted to the Tenko we know in bnha, with a similar power, backstory, and appearance. But I actually think there are a few other ways we can draw comparisons from this genesis of Horikoshi’s career, all the way to the present. 

Here is the intro that prefaces the 2007 one-shot:

^I get chills looking at this, and it makes me grin, no joke. Please take a moment to read all the little tidbits. It sounds like the intentionally foreshadowing first scene of a famous person’s biopic, but no one had a clue back then. I just find that so hilarious and moving at the same time.

So think of the Tenko one-shot as a window into who Horikoshi was as an artist and a storyteller pre- pro industry, with the assumption that certain aspects of his work are probably simultaneously a bit more upfront but also underdeveloped. You know, like a kid. There’s both honesty and naivety there. I can also think back to being around 21 myself (only a few years ago lol), about the stories I was writing in school, the workshop classes I was in with other people my age, what they were writing, the things that were important to us that we discussed informing our work. It’s a formative time, right?

One of the primary things I notice about the Tenko one-shot is that it centers themes of power, heroism, and trauma, and has a resolution which involves bridging misunderstandings. 

It’s all very ideological, but also full of raw emotion. I read somewhere (sorry can’t remember where) Horikoshi saying that in formulating his idea for the ending of bnha, he has kept asking himself, what does it truly mean to be a hero? It seems he started asking that question way back in 2007, through this little story about swords and their wielders. The Tenko one-shot acknowledges that people and power are morally complicated, as is the idolization of heroes. The ending is hopeful, and looks ahead to times changing for the better by the will of progressively-minded and determined people. 

This reminds me of the current arc of the bnha manga, and how the whole story might eventually end. Horikoshi has shown us that the villains are worthy of sympathy, that they are a product of society’s willful ignorance, that “heroes” have also done abhorrent things. But he has also embraced the pure optimism of youth. He seems eager to ask the big questions about right and wrong, and present us with both ambiguity AND certainty. The final fights are not at all a contest of strength, and there are no winners and losers. I’m very curious to see how far he takes this. I’m sure it will ruffle some feathers, and leave some people unsatisfied, but that’s probably a good thing.

The other major thing I notice in the one-shot is the character Hana. Now, as she shares her name with one of the main characters in Oumagadoki Zoo, and they are also similar in personality, that could be where the comparison ends. However, that’s nothing to say Horikoshi didn’t continue her themes elsewhere. The Hana in the Tenko one-shot is primarily preoccupied with her goal of becoming a warrior, and she was inspired some time ago by a warrior who saved her. This other warrior, conicidentally, turns out to be a brutal, a-moral, self-proclaimed demon, and he actually doesn’t take Hana seriously. In some ways, this reminds me of Hawks with his own idols, Endeavor and Lady Nagant, and more generally the idea in bnha that someone you look up to might not be all you imagine them to be. Like All Might and his hidden suffering. Or like Ochako looking up to Izuku up until his solo arc, after which she proclaimed, “special powers are one thing, but there’s no such thing as a special person.” 

Speaking of Ochako. Hana’s primary source of angst in the story is that since she is a woman, her “masculine” ambition is laughed at and dismissed. Her dialogue with other characters is very direct about this, which I find pretty interesting. 

You can really feel her frustration and see the blatant misogyny in how she’s treated. Even though things are stated kinda bluntly, it feels genuine, ya know? Note that she also wears men’s clothes, and nothing about her appearance is catered to the “male gaze.” I mention all this because to me it contextualizes Horikoshi’s more recent female characters. We can infer that he carried this perspective on, but in subtler and more nuanced ways that might not be immediately noticed. They may sometimes look like shonen stereotypes and be influenced by a misogynistic world, but this is likely an act of parody and/or criticism on Horikoshi’s part. For example Ochako’s fight in the sports festival illustrates a similar point to Hana’s struggle as Katsuki is the only one who takes Ochako seriously while other male classmates see her and other female opponents as inherently weak or potential love interests. 

Hana remains ambitious, fostering her own motivation beyond her previous idol, and her ultimate goal is to help people. She reminds me so much of Ochako’s recent convictions. Ochako is fully herself now, and I’m confident her fight with Toga will show this even more, in a way that is much more direct. Since ch 374, I anticipate we may be getting confirmation of things pretty soon, so I wanted to restate that ASAP. 

I’ve said this before, but it really does trouble me how a lot of people assume so much about bnha based on other shonen, disregarding the fact that Horikoshi is his own person. This either leads to undo criticisms or expectations that will likely not be delivered on. It makes me sad because I want people to enjoy this story for what it is. I hope this is a reminder that although it may seem on the surface like Horikoshi is rehashing the same old thing, his work really is a labor of love, of knowing. It is an homage, which both celebrates and deconstructs. Please remember that for the day when folks will be scrambling trying to figure out how we got here. Ironically, the signs were there all along, from the start of Horikoshi’s career, if you only care to look. 

#Im back? kinda #please be advised that I am busy and tired etc etc #bnha 374 #bnha 375 #bnha 376 #bnha manga #bnha meta #media criticism #shonen #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #uraraka ochako #toga himiko #bakugou kastuki #shimura tenko #lin speaks #long post

[endollvors]

Mal Autonomy Manifesto

She's doing Very bad, for the record.

This is just the highlights of D2, because if I did everything we'd be here forever.

The movie starts with Ways to be Wicked which is canonically a stress daydream Mal's having after being cornered against a statue by a large group of adult press who are actively breaking the law by being there. And they refuse to leave the premises until an authority figure makes them.

Then she's immediately grabbed by the wrist and dragged away for a dress fitting by Evie. We'll get into the fitting in a second but Dark shout out to this moment in the movie Novelization

"Yeah," said Mal, nodding. In a way, she was strangely relieved. More time to rest, she thought. Keeping up this act is exhausting. [...] Evie grabbed Mal's arm and spun her around. Mal cried out in surprise. "If we don't do a fitting for your ball gown right this minute, you'll be dancing in your bathrobe," Evie told Mal. "Bye, Ben," She added as she deftly dragged Mal away. There goes my nap.

At the fitting, the appointment intended to make sure a garment actually, you know, fits, Mal says that the dress it too tight, that she can't Breathe in it. Evie dismisses this concern out of hand. She can breathe after Cotillion.

The secret to fitting in, the book that Evie(veteran of 15 years of fucked up princess training) disparages her for using magic to read is about Courtly Etiquette by the way.

Mal broaches the subject of wanting some of the freedom the Isle provided. "Don't you ever miss running wild and breaking all the rules?" I miss being in charge of my schedule and Evie says "No, We're Auradon girls now." and drags her around the room. "We can be whatever we want to be here." She says. Interesting then, how little what Mal wants matters.

Mal tries to get to class and is stopped by Jane, who immediately launches into a barrage of questions she is uninterested in and unprepared to answer. She attempts to leave, stating both that she is busy, on a time crunch to get to her classes, and that she trusts Jane to pick what's best. Jane ignores this, grabs her arm again, and keeps her there until she answers, regardless of the cost to Mal.

Mal learns that there are aspects to attending Cotillion with Ben that she was unaware of. These are serious, affect her life in the long term, and Everyone knew but her. She's visibly surprised and upset. She asks if her whole life has been planned out in front of her without her say so. Signs point to yes.

Ben interrupts her at her locker. She says she doesn't have time. She has to get to class. Seriously, she's going to be late. Ben grabs her by the arm, "No, come this way." And drags her over to give her his present.

Mal is chased into the boys dorm by a barrage of reporters. They are still trespassing. They are inside the building. Love that. She's clearly visibly stressed, Carlos calms her like a spooked horse and she has an outburst. She says that people are following her everywhere, that there's so much she can't say for proprieties sake. She asks, "Don't you ever miss screaming at people and just making them run away from you?" I miss setting boundaries. Carlos says of course not, do you have the magical gummy that I asked for? Mal asks if he's really committed to telling the truth because she can't be honest without fearing being literally deported. She then shares, halfway to hyperventilating that, at this point, its not particularly unappealing. At least this all would stop, right? Carlos ignores this.

(Denouement, I'm not gonna defend the everything about this but know that I interpret the Spell thing as her trying to undo her mistake, literally turn back the clock so it never happened and isn't considering that she's mind wiping him. This is what she does when she does something wrong. Late to class etc. Like, it's still fucked but you know comprehensible. Adding that he frames her using magic as taking the easy way, like she hasn't looked 40 seconds from curling up in a ball and shivering like a hypothermic kitten all day, and that's with the magic.)

Mal leaves. She packs a bag and writes a letter and goes to the Isle under her own power. Ben follows her, convinced that the fight is the only reason that she would do this, and that he can track her down and talk to her and that everything will be fixed. The others help him do this.

So, he shows up, she physically recoils from him, cries, asks him multiple times to leave her alone, to go back to Auradon without her. he says this. Which is my number one least favorite Ben line of all time. "The people love you, I love you, don't you love me?"

I'm just gonna mention here that Mal never actually agrees on screen to go back to Auradon, she just gets in the car after Ben calls for her.

Ben asks if she wants to cancel Cotillion. She doesn't answer the question.

Girl talk is a mess of a scene. It will be it's own post bc it makes me INsane. But the relevant bit is that she describes her problem as the pressure to be perfect, to be something completely different than she's been her whole life up to now, and under constant scrutiny to maintain an act that exhausts her. Everybody else in the circle reassures her that Ben loves her, Not actually the problem she mentioned but ok, and tell her to attend Cotillion no matter what.

Evie tells her to go if she’s up for it, immediately after saying she’s going to take the some of her extremely limited time that afternoon to alter her dress. Jay told her to go, to try one more time as a condition of the relief they had already denied her.

When she arrives at Cotillion, Evie asks how she's doing and Mal says she feels like she's gonna throw up Evie says, "That's ok, That's fine. We're all here for you."

On the way out the door, Mal is grabbed again, stopped by the Former King and Queen, so they can apologize, and offer their explanations, immediately.

Jane and Lumiere block off the top of the staircase to prevent Mal from being able to escape before they can show her something.

Like. ok. Ben loves her, so what?

It can’t save her. If she could have been saved it wouldn’t have gotten to that point. She wouldn’t have run away, been followed, been emotionally blackmailed, been brought back, been told to go to Cotillion anyway. She wouldn’t be Engaged to be Engaged to be Engaged.

#mal bertha #mal descendants #disney descendants #unhinged descendants opinions #as promised #descendants 2

[madhogthymaster]

The Familiar Yet Unfamiliar Horror of The Milk Games

CONTENT WARNING: Mental Illness, Trauma

This is Milk Inside a Bag of Milk Inside a Bag Milk... and its sequel, Milk Outside a Bag of Milk Outside a Bag of Milk... and the sound of an electrical short-circuit you're hearing right now is my anxiety sensors flaring off uncontrollably.

The Milk visual novels, as I would like to call them, are an unnerving, unsafe, decisively un-fun journey into the mind of a broken individual as she navigates an altered reality filtered through the disfiguring lenses of her mental illness, low-functioning neurodivergence and trauma. This isn't as much an allegoric representation of her deeply rooted issues as it is an abrasively surreal piece that aims to subject the player to the world as she perceives it, as her mind mutilates it, making every waking moment of her life overflow with existential dread. Milk accomplishes such devious goal thanks to its unique framework: the player is a voice in her head trying to help her buy a bottle of milk; a task made oppressively difficult by her fundamental inability to function within the "standards of society", at the very bare minimum. The first game assaults you with a barrage of fastidious, disorientating, senses overloading colours, sounds and shapes. The girl copes with it by "pretending to be the protagonist of a visual novel." She is the "milk" inside the bag of her multi-layered, anxious brain.

The second game forces the "milk" out of the bag, once she's home from the grocery shop, and becomes a disturbing therapy session: a nightmarish and morose stream of consciousness fueled by insomnia and very dark thoughts inside darker thoughts inside darker thoughts... It's a visual and verbose trip with recognizable artistic influences (somewhere between Satoshi Kon and Hideaki Anno) that does not relent and does not apologize for it, with its sharp black/red monochromes and suffocating aesthetics, with its dreams within dreams.

Milk Girl is trapped in her own head just as much as she is trapped in a reality that offers no support to her. She has to develop habits and coping mechanisms just to survive the day-by-day Kafkian horror of living. Do not take my word as an authority on the matter but I do believe these games come as close as it gets to properly capture what it's like to grow up as a neurodivergent child, along with the potential scars picked up along the way. As an autistic person, I find myself sucked into this vortex of unease, fear and dread that feels all too familiar yet unfamiliar. Existing in this perpetually fluctuating state of mind between feeling like a burden and hating the world for not conforming to you. However, make no mistake, Milk Girl is not your "puzzle to solve" as the purposeful ambiguity of the narrative framing demonstrates. Understanding "what's wrong with her" is not the goal here. The goal is Empathy.

The Milk visual novels are strongly, viscerally about Empathy. They are about connecting with people you don't understand, people who have suffered for faults not of their own and have been alienated as a result. People that deserve love and to be loved just as much as you do. People that need help but don't deserve pity or disdain for it. People like you but not like you, different yet the same. They (us) are human beings regardless if they are "relatable" or not.

In conclusion: these games are a deeply unpleasant experience and more so powerful as a result, the art direction is impeccably strangling and Milk Girl is an iconic character. Play them at your own discretion - especially if you are neurotypical. This was emotionally draining to write.

---

A/N:

I have had these thoughts on the series typed down since the beginning of 2023. In truth, most if not everything I put in the form of an article starts life as sporadic observations over on my Twitter account. Hence why I keep linking my threads on Tumblr, as well. Anyway, you can follow me there and on YouTube, of course.

The Milk games were developed by Nikita Kryukov. They are available on Steam and Nintendo Switch.

Have a happy new year, or else!

#madhog thy master #milk inside a bag of milk #milk outside a bag of milk #neurodivergent #autism #trauma #mental illness #visual novel #steam #nintendo switch #isolation #got milk? #milk #twitter #youtube #review #satoshi kon #hideaki anno

[dykefaggotry]

I didn’t view it as an attack on femininity but maybe as an unhelpful exaggeration? The rest of the post are takes/trends I see all the time and the last bit just didn’t resonate as something I *personally* see happen as often as the rest

I wish that were true for a lot of us. it's genuinely not even an exaggeration. I've seen those takes and had them directed at me a Lot as a butch person. there are ppl in the notes talking abt being told they're "pick mes" (by white women who shouldn't even be using that term) bc they like bruce springsteen or don't listen to taylor swift or don't like reality tv. someone yesterday on my feed replied to a comment of a girl saying she did in fact think abt the roman empire with "good for you babe I hope the roman soldiers pick you since you so clearly want that". people have "joked" to me that I'm such a man etc for not having owned anything pink (I have two pink shirts now, it just isn't a color that goes well w my skin tone). someone else was talking abt how they saw a video where someone was like "how do girls who WON'T wear makeup even get excited to go out?" and a woman replied in the comments listing some reasons she got excited going out that didn't involved makeup and she got called a pick me and misogynist.

there is a Constant barrage of people just existing as masculine/butch and being told they have internalized misogyny bc of it. and I'm very glad you and others haven't seen it, but it's not an exaggeration and it's a very real issue a lot of feminine women have and subject us to

[darthfrodophantom]

In Spite of Everything You’ve Done for Them, Eventually They Will Hate You

Summary: Superheroes have become a nuisance, and after much public outcry and demand, the government has passed a law that requires all superheroes to submit to registration and suppression of their super powers. After identifying Danny Fenton as Danny Phantom, he is now subjected to wearing a monitoring device that no only tracks him, but also cuts him off from his core and his powers. He's been given another shot at college, and he's trying to make the best of it, but is the promise of maybe being an astronaut if he behaves enough of a reward for everything he’s been forced to sacrifice and the emptiness he now feels with his core locked down?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45872107

CW: panic attack

This piece was written for the zine Reality Trip: A DP AU Zine published in 2022.

This zine is full of incredible works of art by so many amazing artists and writers in the phandom, and all the pieces are inspired by Danny Phantom AUs. If you haven't checked it out yet, please do so! You can learn more about it by checking out the tumblr page for the zine @dpauzine

You'll also see that in the zine, this work is partnered with some phenomenal art by @abrielarnold (who also has so many incredible pieces on their tumblr page) so please go check out their work as well!

In Spite of Everything You’ve Done for Them, Eventually They Will Hate You

He staggered out of the room and collapsed onto the floor. He clutched at his chest, hand fisting in his hoodie. His chest tightened. He couldn’t breathe. He felt sick, nauseous. His heart thrummed in his chest in erratic patterns. His whole body grew warm and sweat dripped down his chest and back. In his panic he pulled at his core, hoping for relief. He needed the power and the courage. He squeezed his core. Pulled on it. Tugged it. Wrenched it. Hammered it. Bombarded it. Pleaded with it. Screamed at it. Threw his entire metaphorical weight into it.

But it wasn’t there. It would never be there. It was silent. Unresponsive. Empty.

Gone.

***

Fifteen minutes earlier.

A flurry of text alerts barraged his phone. A quick look showed they were all supportive messages from everyone he cared about. It felt like everyone set some kind of timer to remind themselves to text him: there were too many all at once for him not to be suspicious. They had the same general theme: good luck today, you’ll do great, we know it’s hard and you’ve been through a lot, but we’re excited and proud of you. And even though they all read the same, he stopped walking and took the time to read each one and feel those supportive wishes in his heart before responding. He wouldn’t be where he was without the support of his friends and family.

The texts added a surprising spring in his step as Danny continued walking through the crowded sidewalks of campus. His first day of class. Well…not really. He’d been to college before, but now he could actually do college, without any superheroing getting in the way. Last time, college was an excuse to stay close to his friends, because he thought he would spend his life being a superhero, defending the world from threats like so many others. He found peace and purpose in that calling, but that was before the public downcry of superheroes, before the Registration and Restriction Act for Persons with Abnormal Abilities, before anklets and handlers and GPS tracking and the silencing of his core.

No, those days were done. He tried to avoid it, then he tried to fight it, but now he just needed to accept it and move on to a different life. A new life that started today. It wasn’t the life he thought he would have, and admittedly it was a life the government forced on him, but he decided this morning in front of the mirror he would start this new life out right with a better attitude than the depressed slump he’d been in since they severed the connection to his core. He was going to attend class, study, do his homework, and hopefully become an astronaut, and he was going to use the supportive texts from his friends to get him through it and have a good day.

At least he thought he would, until his phone buzzed with another message, this time from “The Destroyer of Souls.” The short and syrupy sweet message felt so fake: “Hey Danny! You have class today! Hope you’re excited! Go in there and find your new purpose!” Leave it to Harmony, his demon of a handler, to ruin the positive spin he was working so hard to find. Oh she sounded sweet, but she was the true ultimate enemy. She monitored his every move by the anklet he wore and he was required to verbally check in with her daily. If he wanted to go further than a few miles off campus, he needed her permission, and she never gave it. She created his class schedule (to make sure college didn’t give him any rebellious ideas) and monitored his social media accounts. She was his constant reminder that the government saw him as a criminal. He had only tried to put his abilities to good use by saving people. He didn’t hurt or kill people or steal things; he saved them. And yet, that somehow made him public enemy number one.

He typed out a forced “Yeah, I’m excited” because he had to respond within a certain time before he shoved his phone in his pocket. He could feel the familiar ache in his chest, a deep well of emptiness that threatened to swallow him whole. No, he told himself he wouldn’t do this. This was supposed to be the first day of his new life. He’d let this emptiness consume him for so many months, from the moment that anklet locked down his core and hid it from him, and this was supposed to be his new start. He wasn’t going to give voice to the emptiness. He wasn’t.

He walked faster to class, hoping the change of venue and the start of lecture would force his thoughts away from the maddening void that used to be Phantom. This was why he was here, alone at a college so far from his friends and family, because he needed a change of venue away from everything that reminded him of being Phantom.

He tugged his orange hoodie around him. A far cry from his favorite shirt, but that shirt had too many memories attached to it and he couldn’t handle that. Besides, the college hoodie made him feel like he belonged at this school, like he was one of the crowd, and he could disappear. He rushed away to his first class - English 101. Maybe it wasn’t the most exciting class to start out his new attempt at college, but it was familiar. He had good memories of English in high school thanks to Lancer, and he had done okay in his English 101 class his first time around. He’d be repeating a lot of classes. None of his classes from before would transfer, but it also meant none of the bad grades would either. He could start fresh without those grades hanging over him. Haunting him.

He shook his head and walked into the large lecture hall. He settled in and took out a notebook and a pen. He looked at the student next to him, a Black woman with thick natural curls and a kind face. He didn’t know anyone at the school, and it sure would be nice to at least have someone to talk to. It took him a lot more effort to work up the courage than he was used to. Apparently all his bravery was wrapped up in Phantom too. It never used to be this hard, but then again, everything felt harder now.

“Hey, I’m Danny,” he introduced. He probably could have come up with something more clever or memorable, but it took all the effort he had just to say that.

She looked up from her phone. “I’m Shae. And before you get disappointed, I have a boyfriend.”

Something about her slight smile and teasing warning actually pulled a light chuckle out of Danny. Maybe some would take that as a rejection, but it didn’t feel like that. “Don’t worry, I have a girlfriend, so you’re safe.” He couldn’t say he was being a great boyfriend right now with how empty he felt all the time. Somehow tamping down his core seemed to dull so many of his emotions and he just couldn’t explain why. He felt bad, because Sam patiently put up with so much, but he knew their relationship wasn’t the same and he could feel it.

Shae blushed as she smiled back. “Sorry, you know how some college boys can be. Sometimes you have to be a little more forceful.”

“No no, I understand. I watched my girlfriend go through it. I promise, I’m just looking for someone to talk to…and maybe someone to copy off of,” he teased lightly.

“Only if I can copy back,” she laughed.

They chatted and exchanged basic introductions and pleasantries before the professor walked in. Neatly dressed with glasses and a trimmed beard, Danny would have pegged him as an English teacher if he saw him outside of this classroom. He stepped up to the podium and started the powerpoint behind him.

“I’m Professor Moore, and this is English 101,” he introduced in a curt voice before he began the boring review of the syllabus. Danny noticed a few of the books on the reading list he’d already read either in high school or in his first attempt at college English, and he felt a relief knowing a lot of the work had already been done for him. Sure he’d love to say he’d reread the books, but even with his renewed focus on doing well in school, he knew that wouldn’t happen.

“Now, the first book we’ll be reading is 1984 by George Orwell. A classic made even more prescient today. Can someone tell me why?” Moore asked.

He called on an eager student in the front. “Because of the RRAPAA and the policing of superheroes,” he answered.

Danny felt his heart stall. No. No this couldn’t be happening. He didn’t want to discuss this or learn about this. He didn’t want to hear the thoughts or opinions of other people on this subject. And he especially didn’t want to hear people agree with the law.

“Precisely.” Dread gripped at Danny’s heart. “Some have accused the law of being too heavy-handed and eliminating too many rights. Others argue it’s the price of safety. With such an interesting debate happening in the world, what better lens to examine that debate than through a novel about government control?”

No he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to read about government control because he lived it. He could already see the essay topic forming in Professor Moore’s brain and he wanted nothing to do with it. This was supposed to be his escape, his way to get life back on track, and not some way to have it shoved in his face even more than the constricting, itching, and tingling anklet did. His head swam as dread churned in his stomach.

The professor walked slowly around the lectern and gestured to a quote displayed on the giant screen. “Who controls the past controls the future,” he said, punctuating each word with meaning. “Who controls the present–”

“--controls the past,” quoted Mr. Lancer. He let out a content sigh as he leaned against his desk. “Such powerful words that always seem to be pertinent no matter how much time passes. It’s always important to–”

A scream cut the teacher short. Ectopusses swarmed the room. Their translucent tentacle arms reached for Casper High students and wrenched them from their seats. They flailed and screamed. Some struggled to pull themselves free from the tentacles. Some tried to fight them off. Others just screamed. In the chaos, Danny dashed under Lancer’s desk. He pulled at his core, waiting for the transformation.

Nothing happened.

He tried again. Still nothing. His core felt…empty. Gone. Silent. Useless.

The screams raised in pitch. The palpable terror suffocated the room. He peeked his head over the desk. The ectopusses were leaving and taking their prisoners with them. His classmates. His friends. And he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t save anyone.

Except…no. No, that’s not how it happened. He had snuck away. He had transformed. He had saved them. Because he had been Phantom back then, and not some useless excuse for a superhero like he was now. This had to be a memory. This wasn’t actually happening. He was in college, not Casper High. He was sitting in a lecture hall surrounded by hundreds of students. He was safe. Everyone was safe. He didn’t need to save anyone. He couldn’t save anyone.

He shut his eyes tight and took deep breaths. Just like Jazz taught him. In and out. He dared to open his eyes. He was back in the lecture hall. The blurry lecture slides had moved on past 1984 and detailed the basics of literary analysis. The professor’s clear voice echoed through the room, so very different from Lancer’s deep tones. He cast around the room, but didn’t see any ghosts. He didn’t hear any screams. It had just been a memory.

“Hey, are you okay?” the girl next to him asked in a whisper. He couldn’t even remember her name right now, and she’d just told it to him moments ago.

He looked down at his clammy hands. He brought a hand up to his chest and felt the sweat soaking his shirt. His whole body radiated with heat from the inside out. The student on the other side looked worriedly at him. There were so many people around him. He felt trapped. Suffocated. He couldn’t breathe. He needed to get out of here.

(He couldn’t save anyone.)

He stood up abruptly and dashed out of the hall. He left his notebook and bags and probably even his wallet but he didn’t care. He stumbled and tripped over legs and bags in his rush to leave without apology. He needed to get out of here.

He ran pell mell through the building until he finally hit the outdoors. He collapsed onto the ground as he clenched at his chest, at his core.

He couldn’t save anyone.

~*~

His core still wouldn’t respond. He did everything he could to get something out of his core and yet…nothing.

But what did he expect? He knew there wouldn’t be anything. He knew it ever since his parents grabbed Phantom’s ankle during a scuffle and slapped the ghost-nullifying anklet around it. His core was still there, but just out of reach. Close enough he could constantly see it and feel the faint alluring whispers of its presence, but every time he tried to reach for it his fingers would brush infuriatingly close and be slapped with that cruel denial. It was maddening to know that warmth and that promise of unity was so close, and yet completely gone from him. Especially when he needed it–

His chest clenched again as panic reared its ugly head once more. No, he didn’t need it right now, because he was safe. He wasn’t in high school. No ghosts were attacking. He was safe.

He forced his brain to think through the angry buzzing of anxiety threatening to consume him. Deep breaths, like Jazz taught him. Focus on five things he could see: the grass under him, his book bag, a bench in front of him, a building in the distance, a tree. Four things he could touch: the damp grass, the cool concrete, the canvas book bag, the soft hoodie. Three things he could hear: student chatter, a clock chiming, birds singing. Two things he could smell: grass, Chinese food. One thing he could taste: the lingering flavor of mint gum.

It brought him back to himself. He still felt jittery and his heart thrummed in his chest, but he was present, grounded. He pulled himself onto the nearby bench. He knew people were staring, but he didn’t have the effort to care right now. He was far too exhausted.

He knew he had to fight through this. He wanted to fight through it. For so long, he had the will to fight through so much pain and hurt and exhaustion, so surely he had the will to fight through this emptiness and panic and despair right?

Unless that will to fight was locked away with Phantom.

His phone buzzed and he knew it couldn’t be anything good. Everyone who would text him knew he was supposed to be in class right now, which meant it could only be one person…

“Hey Danny, noticed you left class early. Remember this is supposed to be your second chance at college - no reason for you to be leaving class early this time! Did something happen?”

He scowled at the text from his handler. Did something happen? Did something happen?!

He typed furiously on his phone, lit with a fire he hadn’t felt in awhile. “Yeah, something happened. I have to listen to people discuss the RRAPAA and superheroes like there’s not one sitting with them and listen to them talk about how great it is when NONE of them know what it’s like to be hollow and empty and alone. And none of them CAN know, because if I tell any of them you’ll make me disappear and force me to start all over again at a different college with a warning that if I can’t get it together, then I can’t be in society. All while I have a PANIC ATTACK about how empty and useless and worthless I am right now because I can’t do anything to help anyone anymore!”

He almost hit send. His thumb hovered over the button and he was so tempted. But he didn’t. He knew he couldn’t say any of that. Not to anyone and certainly not to her.

As quickly as that explosion of anger came, it disappeared and he slumped on the bench. He deleted the lengthy text and typed a morose “Nothing, I’m fine” and stashed the phone back into his pocket. It was a lie. It was always a lie.

He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. He took deep breaths of the fresh air and tried to let his mind wander, like Jazz advised him to do when he felt overwhelmed. Disconnected. Lost.

His phone beeped and shook him from his thoughts. Time for his math class. Had he really spent that much time just sitting there? It felt like barely a moment while he let his mind wander.

He flung his bag over his shoulder as he stood. Time to try again. The new start to his new life. A new life filled with emptiness and panic no one could ever see. He pasted on the mask of a normal student, pretending to be like everyone else. Pretending he was a normal college student. Pretending he wasn’t empty. Pretending he wasn’t hollow.

#Danny Phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny phantom au #dp au zine #no superheroes au #danny can't connect to his core #cw panic attack #ghost cores