#and i’ve needed a change for a while now

[teaboot]

Question that I suspect is autism related

I have, on more than one occasion over multiple decades, been told that I “need to have the last word” and that I “have a response for everything”.

Additionally and in a similar vein, I’ve been told that “everything is an argument with you” and I “always have to say something”.

When I was a little kid I was bad at conversations. People said stuff I had no opinion on or didn’t need follow-up and so I wouldn’t answer and they’d get bored. And eventually through trial and error I figured out that if someone said something to me, all I had to do was say something related back, and the interaction could go on as long as it needed to.

But then as a teen- and now as an adult- a number of people (mostly people I’ve found to be very delicate and particular about things in a sort of need-to-be-in-control authoritarian way) have expressed the identical observation about how I naturally try to converse, and I’m not sure what to do about it.

And the thing is, I have a sibling that talks like this too. We bicker all the time. He changes his own opinions seemingly at a whim for the purpose of being contrary, and it’s impossible to make a statement or observation out loud without him contradicting it, and even when he is demonstrably, factually wrong about something, he will dig his heels into the dirt and defend his stance to the grave.

And like. I hear myself responding, or adding on to people’s comments, but I don’t hear the ‘arguing’ they describe, or the contrarian habits of my sibling. Even when I’m paying attention and being bery careful not to follow up too much or speak too often or disagree or correct something that isn’t important, I get called out for “picking a fight”. They say something, I answer, they reply, I continue, then seemingly out of nowhere they snap. I think everything’s fine until suddenly it isn’t.

And so I guess my question is, how can you tell if you’re a contrary sort of person? How can you tell when to respond or follow up on a person’s statement and how do you know when to leave it in silence? Does everybody see me this way, and is it only people who are already short-tempered who are willing to say it?

I honestly don’t really have that much to say, and half the time I don’t even really want to talk at all, but I’ve been told countless times that I “just seem to like the sound of your own voice” and have to just be “tuned out after a while”. So if it isn’t necessary and I don’t even want to, why am I doing it?

Is there a reason I’m like this? Why is my sibling like this? How do I stop talking when there’s nothing to say, and how can I tell the difference between a conversation and an argument before the other person visibly snaps?

I’m a full grown adult

[jarlskona-evilyoyo]

I need to see Rumi’s first conversation with Mira and Zoey went!

Because for some reason a lot of the fics I’ve seen that cover that conversation make some assumptions on what Mira and Zoey knew/guess from the tiny conversation they did have.

What did Mira and Zoey THINK happened? They do think that Rumi has been lying to them the entire time (because she has) but the first thought had to have been that Rumi either betrayed them at the start, and was using them somehow, or maybe that she became a demon while they knew each other.

(The lying is clearly what Zoey is stuck on while I think Mira’s main issue is the sense she was betrayed by Rumi)

From what we’ve seen, it’s seems that half-demons aren’t exactly common, so they’ll probably have to do some mental gymnastics to rearrange that in their minds.

Because Mira and Zoey HAD to have the same kind of teaching that Rumi did about how evil demons are— they repeat the same exact stuff that Rumi does at the beginning. Now they have to process that ‘whoops you’ve been saying some incredibly hurtful things to your best friend’ and THEN that they were told all of that stuff while Celine fully knew what Rumi is.

Because exploring that seems like a good time for angst. If Celine is that closed off to Rumi I just KNOW she never got close to the other girls. Then Rumi starts opening up about how much Celine messed her up (not on purpose, she’s just finally able to show things about her patterns now) and boom; Mira and Zoey fucking hate her.

I need a 50K fic about how Rumi’s self esteem is in absolute tatters after a life time of being told she’ll only get love if she fixes herself. A 80K fic about Rumi,Mira and Zoey learn to balance all their own issues and them dating and most importantly a 200K fic about Rumi accepting her demon side, like how her eyes change colors, she has claws sometimes and how she’ll purr if comfortable enough.



[dissociativewriter]

hello my sweetheart, congratulations once again for 400 followers <3 you deserve many many more. <3 if possible, can i please get a fluffy scenario with me and caleb when his 3 yo daughter says “dadda” for the first time 🥹💞 you are free to ignore this btw should it get too overwhelming <3 have a lovely day ahead. here, have some snuggles from me!!

ahhhhhhh hi honey!! giving you smooches cause you’re so sweet <3 thank you so much and omg this is such a cute ask! i did change it a little bit, just so that the daughter is younger now. i hope you like this!

request event

Tensions were high.

You and Caleb had been in a cold war for weeks. It felt like all your tactics were falling short as you sat in a stalemate.

The battleground? Your daughter’s nursery.

Months ago, when you were 9 months into pregnancy and terrified for the baby’s arrival, Caleb was reading and re-reading all the parenting tips and baby guides. He was scared, paranoid. He might not say it, but you could tell.

And in his mess of tips and tricks, he read the cause of this competition: babies typically start speaking at around 7 months.

Neither of you had said anything at the time, or when your baby girl was actually born. There wasn’t time to think of that, not when she came out with his bright eyes and your nose. You didn’t have time think about first words, because now there were first tears, and the new life of parenthood was quickly sinking in.

Caleb was a great father, just like you told him he’d be through all his fretting. Everything was already baby-proofed, every decision made now had him taking your little girl into consideration. His life was irreversibly changed, and he knew that having this little family with you was the bliss he didn’t think he’d ever reach.

He’d offered to take nights, insisting you needed your rest. He’d be awake anyway, Caleb explained, so he might as well take care of the baby while he’s up. And true to his word, with Caleb at your side, you were able to sleep through most nights.

Caleb always seemed grateful to hold her, grateful that he could be there through all of this. His hands shook ever so slightly every time he reached for her, the disbelief apparent in his eyes.

Everything was as peaceful as it could be with a newborn.

But then six months rolled around, and it seemed the both of you began plotting. Your daughter’s babbling filled the house, incoherent now but you both knew that soon those babbles would be words.

You were starting to wonder if Caleb had offered to take nights with an ulterior motive. You’d caught him, one late night, repeating “dada” to her. Over and over again, like a mantra. “You’ve got to say dada first, alright, little apple?” He’d whispered. “I’ve got to beat your mother on this.”

The next day, you’d made a show of using ‘mama’ around your daughter as much as you could. If Caleb wanted a competition, then so be it.

It went on for what felt like an eternity for the both of you, starting just before she turned six months old and ending when she was seven and half months old. You were anxious with anticipation, waiting to see what would be her first word.

It was around noon and the sun was high, streaming in through wide windows of the Skyhaven apartment. Caleb was in the kitchen with your daughter, prepping her food while your lunch was still cooking on the stove. He had her far away from anything that could possibly hurt her, his watchful eyes constantly snapping back to where she was, prepared to use his Evol to steady her or pull her away.

Caleb was talking to her as he stirred and mixed. He’d made a habit of it whenever they were together, constantly going back and forth with her as if she was holding an actual conversation instead of giggling nonsense.

“Okay, little apple, I hate to tell you this but your mama was very mean to me earlier.” He said seriously. He nodded with her as she babbled something. “I know, it’s hard to hear, but it’s true!” Caleb then proceeded to explain your most recent quarrel to your daughter, which was more brought on by pettiness and stress than an actual problem. He’d nodded along whenever she babbled, agreeing and further explaining as if he understood everything.

“Now tell me, little apple, who do you think is right?” He asked as he walked closer with her baby food.

She beamed as he approached, a wide smile growing on her face as she giggled, “Dada!”

Caleb froze. Mid-step, it felt like everything stopped. You padded into the kitchen from the living room, disbelief written all over your face as well.

“Did she just…?” Caleb’s voice cracked. He looked up at you, tears brimming at his eyes. “She just said dada!” he exclaimed. He rushed forward, laving the food on the counter as he scooped her up in his arms, pulling you in as well as he peppered kisses over both your foreheads.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispered. “My baby girl’s talking. I can’t—” Tears fell onto his cheeks as the words caught in his throat. “I love you, so much. Both of you.” Caleb kissed both of you again, barely able to hide his grin.

And staring at his triumphant, prideful smile, you decided not to tell him about all the days you spent whispering ‘dada’ to her, too.

thank you @syncaleb for this ask!

comments and reblogs appreciated and asks open! <3

masterlist

taglist: @coffeedragonhobbyist @sleepykittyenergy @orbitraiden @dolledbunnytail

[noirscript]

Inked Possession | part two

pairing: yandere artist x erotic book writer!reader description: At his exhibit, Eleazar’s jealousy ignites with a stranger’s laugh—and by nightfall, you’re blindfolded, bound, and painted in his studio, every touch a possessive reminder that you belong only to him. warning/s: Yandere behavior, possessiveness, explicit sexual content, bondage (restraints), blindfolding, jealousy, emotional manipulation, exhibitionism (implied), power dynamics, obsessive love, rough sex, worship/adoration, noncon/dubcon undertones. note: enjoy!!! the pre-order for Callixto's ebook will end next week (Monday) so make sure to reserve a copy of the ebook PLUS the exclusive freebies that comes with it! The freebies will only be available during the pre-order period.

It begins with a laugh.

Not yours. And definitely not Eleazar’s.

The gallery hums with polite chatter and soft music, all of it bleeding into the undercurrent of hushed awe and too-hungry eyes. It’s a private preview of Anatomy of Devotion,

Eleazar’s newest exhibit—his obsession rendered in brushstrokes. You. In shadows and warm light. Draped in his shirt, curled into his bed, arched across canvas like you belonged there more than in your own skin.

And you do, don’t you?

You feel exposed, not because of the nudity or the rawness of each painting, but because you know he painted them while you slept, dreamed, moaned. The audience doesn't see that part. But he does. And you do. And it burns beneath your clothes.

From across the room, you sense his eyes on you. He’s dressed in black again—casual in a way that still looks powerful, shoulders straight and jaw tense. His dark hair is slightly messy, a curl brushing the edge of his cheekbone. He watches you with an intensity that borders on unnerving. You offer a small, reassuring smile, a signal: I'm fine. I'm just talking.

He doesn’t smile back.

You turn to excuse yourself politely from the nearby crowd, but someone steps in.

“This one,” a voice says beside you, male, amused, too relaxed for your comfort. “Damn. That’s my favorite.”

You follow his gaze and immediately regret it. He’s pointing to the massive oil painting of you in Eleazar’s studio chair, one leg folded under the other, wearing nothing but his ruined, paint-smeared shirt. The same one that now hangs like a shrine in your shared bedroom.

“The way you’re looking in this?” the assistant says, sipping his champagne with a crooked grin. “Like someone just dragged you out of a fever dream. Fucking raw. He nailed it.”

You offer a tight smile, holding your glass a little too firmly. “He captures what matters.”

He leans in slightly, voice dropping as if you’re already conspiring. “If I had someone like you in my studio, I’d never stop painting. Or touching. I mean… ever considered posing for someone else?”

The comment slides across your skin like rot. You pull away a fraction, breath caught in your throat—but it’s already too late.

The man doesn't notice. “I’ve got a setup. Nothing big, but I can be a lot more fun than your guy.”

The flute nearly slips from your hand.

It doesn’t shatter. It doesn’t have to.

Because Eleazar is suddenly behind him.

The temperature of the room changes. The quiet turns heavy. The gallery’s background noise continues—oblivious—but here, where Eleazar stands, the world becomes razor-sharp.

The assistant laughs nervously, stepping back as if he’s only now aware of the storm forming inches from his face. “Oh—hey. Didn’t see you there, man. Just a joke. Your wife’s stunning, really. You must be proud.”

Eleazar’s smile is slight and sharp. It looks polite. It isn’t.

“I’m always proud of what’s mine,” he replies, calm and low, too calm. “But you strike me as the kind of man who doesn’t understand boundaries until he’s bleeding.”

The man blanches, and you can practically smell the fear start to rise off him. You reach out to place a hand on Eleazar’s arm, grounding, a silent plea not to cause a scene here.

He doesn’t need to.

He takes your hand instead and guides you through the crowd, slow and silent, his grip firm but not harsh. You follow without protest.

---

The drive home is quiet. Not cold—just sharpened into something that leaves no room for distractions.

Eleazar keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh, flexing every now and then like he’s holding back something primal. His jaw is tight, his profile locked in shadow, and even the air feels afraid to stir.

You try once, softly. “Eleazar—”

“Don’t.”

You flinch. Not because of the volume—he doesn’t raise his voice—but because of the meaning behind it. He rarely interrupts you. When he does, it's because he's trying not to unravel.

“I could smell him on you,” he says after a while, his voice calmer now but laced with restrained venom. “Like a stain.”

“He didn’t touch me,” you whisper. “He was being inappropriate, yes, but I didn’t engage.”

“You laughed.”

“I didn’t mean to. It was uncomfortable. I was trying to be polite—”

“You laughed.” His knuckles tighten around the wheel, the leather creaking. “Do you know what that does to me? Hearing that sound, knowing it wasn’t for me?”

You stay quiet.

“I won’t punish you for his stupidity,” he says, more to himself than to you. “But I will remind you what your smile belongs to. What you belong to.”

---

He doesn’t even wait for you to enter the apartment. He leans down as he opens the car door, presses a soft kiss to your temple, and murmurs, “Studio. Now.”

You obey.

Inside the space where he paints you daily, the scent of varnish and oil hits you like memory. It’s thick in the air—intimate, private. You notice immediately the cloth and basin of warm water, the soft silk rope, and the blindfold folded neatly on his stool.

It’s not a punishment.

It’s a lesson.

He enters a moment later. Locks the door behind him. Doesn’t say a word as he moves behind you and begins unzipping your dress. It slips from your shoulders like surrender, pooling at your feet.

You don’t fight him when he lifts you into the studio chair—the one you’ve posed on countless times, the one he’s immortalized you in. He moves slowly, methodically, securing your wrists behind the chair with the silk rope, then spreading your ankles to tie them to the legs.

The blindfold is the last thing. He slides it on gently, fingertips brushing your temples.

Darkness falls.

You can feel the shift in the air as he steps back. The silence lengthens. Then you hear it—the sound of his fingers dipping into paint.

When his touch returns, it’s cold and deliberate. He draws a line across your collarbone, slow and thick.

“This one’s black,” he says near your ear. “Do you remember what black means?”

You nod, throat dry. “Mine.”

“Good girl.”

He paints over your chest, dragging his fingers in spirals around your nipples until they harden. Down your ribs, across your stomach, then along your thighs—everywhere but where you need him most. He avoids your core deliberately, punishing you without pain.

The next color is red. “This is for shame. For forgetting—even briefly—that your smile is sacred. That it belongs only to me.”

The red stains your inner thighs, the underside of your breasts, your throat.

Then comes gold. He doesn’t speak as he paints a streak from your heart to your navel, a line of reverence amid chaos.

You sit there—tied, blindfolded, dripping in black and red and gold. Helpless. Waiting.

And still, he doesn’t touch you there.

He disappears briefly, and when he returns, it isn’t with fingers or paint.

It’s with warm cloth.

He parts your thighs and presses the soft towel to your center, cleaning you with the kind of care that borders on sacred. Each pass is gentle, almost worshipful, as he murmurs, “You think I’d risk your body for a lesson? No. I’d never hurt what’s mine.”

The moment the cloth drops away, so does his restraint.

He goes to his knees, and when his tongue finally touches you, it’s not tentative.

He eats you like a starving man—devouring every moan, every shudder, holding your thighs in place as you buck and cry out against the ropes. He doesn’t stop, even when you beg him to, even when you sob that you’re close.

Especially then.

He forces it out of you like confession, like sin.

When you fall apart, trembling and sobbing, he rises slowly. His belt unfastens. His zipper follows. You can hear the scrape of fabric, the rustle of movement, and then he’s there—pressing into you, filling you with a single, brutal thrust.

Your scream echoes.

He groans above you, voice rough with need. “You’ll never laugh for anyone but me. You’ll never write another smile that doesn’t belong to me.”

“I won’t,” you cry, already breaking again.

“You’ll write me into every draft. Every kiss. Every fuck.”

“Yes—yes—only you—”

His pace is merciless. The chair creaks beneath your bound frame as he drives into you, each thrust branding, each moan a claim carved into your bones.

You lose track of how many times you come. It blurs into rhythm—him, you, the ropes, his voice, the heat. You sob out his name, not from pain, but from surrender.

When he finishes, it’s with a growl pressed into your neck.

He unties you slowly. Carefully. Then carries you to bed like something fragile and beloved, laying you down in clean sheets even as your skin still bears his paint.

You don’t need to speak. His hands say it all. So do the kisses he trails across each bruised thigh, each paint-streaked breast.

---

The next morning, your coffee is hot, the sheets are clean, and your laptop is open.

There’s a new document saved on your desktop.

Eleazar – Part I

Beneath it, in the document’s header, a single note:

“Only I get to read you, darling. Write accordingly.”

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans @ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

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[waitingandwishing]

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Word Count: 2.5k "𝖫𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌" ━━ Ever since you were a kid, all you wanted was to be cared for.

“‘Cause I see your real face, it’s as ugly as sin. Gonna put you in your place cause you’re rotten within.” You sang, practicing the choreography easily. “When your patterns start to show it makes the hatred wanna grow out of my veins…”

Your voice trailed off and you sighed, collapsing on your bed with a huff. You rolled up your sleeve to reveal the spreading marks, glowing and pulsing each time you grazed your other hand on them. For almost your whole life, they’ve never spread this fast before.

Jinu said that his shame was what caused them to spread… What shame did you have then? The shame of these markings? But if so, then Rumi’s would’ve spread much faster than before right? You huffed. You couldn’t believe you were about to do something this stupid but… Maybe you should visit a mudang?

You groaned. Why were you now turning to spiritual stuff? You laid on your back, thinking for a moment before deciding you’d go to sleep early instead. You probably needed a good night’s rest anyways… Just as you walked over to your lamp to turn it off, a knock on your window interrupted.

You turned to see the large blue cat from before and the bird perched on top of its head. You frowned, but opened the door and entered your balcony. “Hello?” You greeted. The tiger stared at you before pushing into your hand as if telling you to pet him like before. “Where’s your owner?”

The tiger purred before biting your arm. It wasn’t a harsh bite, more delicate than anything as it seemed as though it was trying to guide you somewhere. “Ooookay…” You cringed at the horrible sensation of it’s drool coating your sweatshirt but didn’t pull away.

You followed the tiger into a portal before ending up on the street instead. You shivered at the cold wave of existential dread that came when you entered, but brushed it off and pulled your hood over your head instead. You couldn’t exactly be seen being hauled away by a blue tiger in public right?

“Isn’t it odd how we keep meeting like this?”

You turned to see Jinu with his hands in his pockets. You smiled slightly, the tiger now letting go of your arm. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sent your cat to come get me.” 

Jinu shrugged, feigning an innocent expression. You walked forward, now enshrouded in the darkness of the alleyway. “I actually have something to ask you, surprisingly.” Your gaze was fixated on the ground, not daring to look up at Jinu. 

“My markings…” You rolled your sleeve up to reveal the spread of them going across your arms. “Why are they growing? You said that yours grew from shame but… I haven’t felt any shame.”

Jinu stared at them, his finger twitching slightly to reach out, before he curled his hand into a fist instead. “It is… Hard to identify shame.” He finalized.

You looked up at him, blinking, before letting out a chuckle. “That’s hardly an explanation. Nor does it give me any comfort.”

“Ah, I’m… Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You shook your head, “After we seal the Honmoon…” Your voice trailed off, eyes glancing at Jinu before clearing your throat. “Rumi’s and my markings will be… Fixed.”

“How did you get your markings?” Jinu asked.

“Ah… I, uh, don’t know actually. It’s just something I’ve been born with like Rumi.” You looked at them, furrowing your brows at the noticeably drastic changes, “We’re not related though so…”

“And you don’t hear Gwi-Ma in your head either?” Jinu asked. You shook your head, your eyes focusing on the cat now rubbing on your legs.

“No…” You muttered.

“Then you’re lucky too.” Jinu said. He stayed quiet for a while, tilting his head up to look at the purple colored sky.

Did negative thoughts count as Gwi-Ma speaking in your head? No, you didn’t think so. Everyone had negative thoughts sometimes, even demons have them replaced by Gwi-Ma’s manipulation. If so… Were they really that different from humans?

“Maybe… You can be lucky too.” You thought out loud. Jinu turned to you with a confused look on his face. “When the Honmoon is sealed, all demons will be banished to be with Gwi-Ma for all eternity. You can be on our side. You’ll be rid of the markings.”

Jinu paused, opening his mouth to speak before you added. “It doesn’t mean you’ll live without your memories of misery. At least, I think so.” You mused before finally looking at Jinu with a smile, “Jinu, if you help us win the Idol awards, you can stop hearing Gwi-Ma’s voice inside your head…”

“What makes you think the Honmoon can save a guy like me?” Jinu asked, eyes carefully tracing the street in consideration.

“You tried to help your family. We all…” Your voice trailed off, masking the wince of a sudden headache with clearing your throat. “We all make mistakes.”

Jinu scoffed, “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s never that simple.” You challenged, “If the Honmoon can… Help me and Rumi with our mistakes, it surely can with yours.”

There’s a softening. A stillness in his eyes as he looks at you. As if his entire world has just settled into place. His pupils dilated just slightly, eyes warm with a kind of quiet awe, and for a moment, time seems to hush around the two of you. It’s not dramatic, not always flashy. It’s subtle. Sacred.

Familiar, even to you. You feel as if you’d done this before, that you’d felt this way before. You cleared your throat, “You always stare at someone like that?” You asked.

Jinu blinked out of his trance, turning away to the blue tiger sitting in front of him with a tilted head and crossed eyes. “It’s just… You remind me a lot like someone I knew.” Jinu said. You didn’t ask anything else because it seemed like he didn’t want to elaborate any further, but it warmed your heart either way.

His words carried the weight of a thousand unspoken memories and the quiet certainty of realization and recognition. It’s the look that said… You mattered. Not because of what you’ve done or said, but simply because you’re… You.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” You smiled, now turning away, “I’ve gotta change out of this wet sweatshirt before I start getting overstimulated so… Just think about my offer?” You turned your face to the side, looking at Jinu in the corner of your eye, “Give me a message if you accept it, Jinu.”

- - -

You explained the plan to Rumi, to which she agreed with. Jinu would help you win the Idol Awards, and you would seal the Honmoon when it was over. “Should we tell the others?” you asked, walking backstage to get ready for the rehearsal.

“... No.” Rumi decided, “They… They won’t understand.”

“Are those Celine’s words or yours?” you teased, trying to lighten the moment—but she didn’t smile. Not even a flicker. Your grin faltered. You stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder with quiet concern. “Rumi…”

“These lyrics are so… Wrong.” She said, her arms crossing tightly over her chest like she was bracing for something colder than judgment.

“Yeah…” you muttered, wincing as a dull throb pulsed through your skull. “Pretty hypocritical of us, I get it.”

“It’s fine. I think we can get through this.” Rumi nodded, but her voice didn’t carry much weight. You hesitated, studying her a moment longer before nodding back and stepping onstage beside her.

The music started, echoing faintly across the space as the four of you moved into formation. “Time to put you in your place ‘cause you’re rotten within.” You sang, turning with the practiced motion.

“When your patterns start to show it makes the hatred wanna grow out of my…” Rumi’s voice trailed off. She stopped moving entirely, her face blank and filled with hesitation.

“What’s going on? Why are we stopping?” Mira asked, her tone sharp with confusion.

“It’s just… These lyrics are throwing me off.” Rumi muttered, “I don’t think they’re right just yet.”

“Seriously? Now?” Mira frowned, eyebrows pulling in.

“No, it’s fine.” Zoey laughed weakly, already flipping through her lyric journal. “It’s the second verse, right? Uh, how about… ‘When the patterns start to show, the whole world will finally know that you’re depraved’?”

You shook your head at the same time Rumi did. The movement was subtle, but Mira noticed. Her frown deepened as her gaze shifted toward you, questioning. You couldn’t meet her eyes. You looked down at the scuffed black floor instead.

“Um, ‘My sword will happily show you to your grave?’” Zoey offered again. Rumi shook her head, “‘You will be pummeled till no remains—’”

“No, Zoey, it’s just—It’s the whole song.” Rumi sighed, weariness etched into her voice.

“Oh… Okay, great!” Zoey said, trying to laugh it off, but her voice went quiet as her eyes fell to the notebook in her hands. “Well, then, I might as well tear these all up!”

“Rumi, we don’t have time to change the lyrics even if we wanted to.” Mira said, stepping closer now. “The Idol Awards are tomorrow.”

“Well, I… I don’t think I can sing this song.” Rumi argued, her voice small but firm.

“It’s… So hateful.” You added.

The tension between the four of you was like static before Bobby stepped in, his timing almost too perfect. “Hey, girls, just wanted to bring some last-minute pick-me-ups…” He smiled, though it was clearly strained, placing the bag down. “I know things have been really stressful lately and you’ve been working so hard on the Idol routine.”

Then, a sharp pink pulse hit you, like static in your bones. The headache returned in full force, blooming behind your eyes like fire. You winced, though hit it well. You turned and ran. There wasn’t time for more arguing, you had civilians to save.

- - -

“Seriously, what is your problem?” Mira asked as she sliced through a demon's body.

Mira’s words ring in your ears like an accusation you can’t deflect. You know you’re hiding something but it isn’t out of malice. It’s out of fear. Out of uncertainty. Out of not knowing if you’re right or wrong. The Honmoon. The song. The dreams. The missing people. The silence where there should be cheering fans.

“I told you, the song, it’s-”

“I’m not talking about the song, I’m talking about you and Y/N!” Mira said. You turned your head, looking at her before pulling a demon closer to you and stabbing it with your dagger. “Why are you both questioning everything that we stand for when we’re so close to sealing the Honmoon? What are you two not telling us?!”

“I-I-”

“What are you hiding from us?” Mira asked, her hand on Rumi’s shoulder just as the purple haired girl was about to pull away.

“Not everything is about your insecurities, Mira!” Rumi yelled. You widened your eyes, looking between the two of them with a pained expression.

You stood between them, looking at both their expressions. Zoey stood next to Mira with widened eyes. The whole tunnel that shrouded you with darkness suddenly blew past you, the skyline of the city and mountains coming into view.

“Mira, I-I didn’t mean…”

“Would you two stop fighting each other and look?!” Zoey yelled, pointing to the huge hole coming from the upper bridge. 

“Why is it so big…?” You muttered. Multiple hungry demons piled on top of each other, ready to ravage any human souls on the train.

“If you’re with us, prove it.” Mira challenged, looking at you and Rumi before focusing her attention back on the demons.

You got into position before lunging with the four of them at the herd of demons. Your whip cracked like gunfire, splitting the air above the demon's heads. One lunged forward, to which you moved your shoulder forward, elbow locked and fingers snapping the whip at the end. The tip wrapped around its wrist, pulling it forward before plunging your dagger into its chest.

“It’s a take down, Imma take you out and it ain’t gonna stop!”

The second demon charged, causing you to spin left and let the tail of your whip loop low around its leg. You pulled hard, dropping its balance before throwing the dagger into its chest and disintegrating it.

You leaned in, whip in a cross-body strike. The tip lashed across another demon's face, causing it to screech before bursting into a pink dust.

“Jung shin eul noh koh null jib balb goh! Kal eul seh gyuh nuah! You’ll be begging and crying, all of you dying. Never miss my shot!”

When another lunged again, you dropped the whip and caught behind the ankle. In a wrapping move, the tail tangled briefly. You yanked hard, turning your hips and unbalancing it successfully. You threw your dagger again.

“I don’t think you’re ready for the takedown! A demon with no feelings don’t deserve to live… It’s so obvious…”

You widened your eyes, watching as another demon came swinging with a club at Rumi, who had suddenly paused their demon massacre. “RUMI!” You shouted, latching your whip onto her waist and pulling her forward. The momentum caused you to fly forward, sending a kick to the larger demon's head.

The lurking demons overran the plane. You knelt down, helping Rumi up as Mira finished off the last of the demons with a shockwave of blue energy. 

Mira turned to look at you and Rumi, disappointment evident in her eyes, but just as she was about to say something, you spoke up first. “The passengers!” You realized. 

You entered the train, searching through the seats to find at least one person, only to be disappointed at the sight of the missing people. What were you going to do now? 

The train stopped at its nearest station, the four of you walking out with saddened looks on your faces. “Whatever you think about the song, it doesn’t matter right now.” Mira spoke up, her voice breaking slightly. “Everything is at stake and we just need to get through this together.” She walked away, not daring to meet yours or Rumi's gaze.

“You know I’m always on your side but… It’s really hard to understand this time.” Zoey muttered, turning to look at the two of you, “We can’t win this without your voices…” She finalized before walking away with Mira.

You and Rumi exchanged glances. Something’s wrong. And not just with the mission. With you. With Rumi. With the entire foundation everything’s been built on.

You look at her, your partner in this, and the weight in her eyes mirrors your own. The kind of weight you carry when truth is clawing at the inside of your chest but you’re afraid to open your mouth and let it out. Because if you speak it aloud, it might undo everything you’ve fought for…

Zoey says they need your voice. Mira says you’re keeping secrets. She’s not wrong. But they don’t see what you see. They don’t hear what you hear in that song. They don’t feel how wrong it’s beginning to sound.

taglist: @the-bookish-artist @nisarelle @iviorienne @justanindiangirl12 @t4naiis @usuallyunlikelyfox@livsh20@venommie@dprweganggang03@satansdaughter123 @yumekono @arkcitrus

[joelsslvts]

“I don’t snore, Darlin’”

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Setting: Post-Outbreak Safe Zone – You live together in Jackson.

Genre: Fluff, domestic banter, age gap, light teasing

The wind howled softly outside the window, the kind of night where everything was still—except for the sound coming from the other side of the bed.

You groaned, flipping over in the creaky mattress and jabbing your finger into Joel’s bare shoulder.

“Joel,” you hissed. “Joel.”

Nothing. Just more snoring.

You sat up halfway, blinking in the dark. “Joel!”

A low grunt. Then silence.

You let yourself fall back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling like it had wronged you.

You loved the man—God, did you—but you were one more snore away from suffocating him with a pillow. The way he snored? It wasn’t even just breathing heavy. It was like a chainsaw being dragged through gravel.

Morning came with a slice of sunlight and the smell of fresh coffee—probably Joel, always up before you like he was training for a damn marathon. You padded into the kitchen, arms folded across your chest.

He looked up, hair still messy, salt-and-pepper scruff catching the light.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He gave you that half-smile. The one that always made you forget you were mad—almost.

You squinted at him. “We need to talk.”

He raised an eyebrow and leaned back. “That so?”

“You snore.”

Joel blinked. “No I don’t.”

You stared. “Joel. Don’t lie. You snore so loud the walls shake.”

“I’ve never heard myself snore,” he said, sipping his coffee casually.

“Exactly! Because you’re asleep while doing it!”

He smirked now, clearly entertained. “Maybe you’re just sensitive. Young ears and all.”

“Oh my God, don’t pull the age card on me,” you grumbled, snatching his mug and taking a sip like it was yours.

Joel gave you a look. “Hey. I made that.”

“And I lost four hours of sleep, so it’s only fair.”

He walked toward you, that amused look still dancing on his face, and wrapped an arm around your waist. You tried to fight the smile that was creeping in—tried to stay annoyed—but he was warm and grumbly and familiar, and… fine, maybe kind of irresistible.

“Alright,” he said. “If I really do snore that bad… why d’you keep sleepin’ next to me?”

You tilted your head. “Because I love you. Even if you’re a sleep-depriving menace.”

He chuckled low in his throat, and you felt the vibration against your body.

“Alright then,” he whispered near your ear, “maybe tonight I’ll sleep on the couch—save your beauty rest.”

“You do that, and I’ll drag you back by your beard.”

He grinned. “So you do love the beard.”

You rolled your eyes and gave his chest a gentle shove. “Don’t change the subject. Just… I dunno, sleep on your side or something.”

“I’ll try, darlin’. But if I snore again, maybe you can wake me up with somethin’ nicer next time.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

He leaned down, lips brushing your cheek. “A kiss wouldn’t kill me.”

You groaned dramatically. “Gross. You’re like 50.”

He laughed. “And you love it.”

Unfortunately for your pride… you really, really did.

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings:

a/n:

not requested

“James, right?” You asked once you spotted the familiar looking guy in the restaurant. His pictures were flattering online, but he looked even better in person.

“And you must be y/n.” He said as he got up and made his way to the other side of the table to pull out your chair. It was a surprise, you weren’t used to such a gentleman—but as you watched him pull the chair out you noticed he was still wearing his gloves.

“Are you cold?” You chuckled and he averted his gaze as he tried to laugh with you, staring down at the gloved hand he was trying to hide.

“A bit,” he agreed, “been a while since I’ve lived in New York.” Bucky shared a tidbit of information to try to change the subject, but as you began to observe his face, you realized he looked more familiar than just those pictures you swiped right on.

“Oh, yeah? Where else have you been?” You sipped on the water at your place setting. Something familiar…you swore you’d seen this man before.

“Romania.” Your date was honest, which may have been the last piece on information you needed to recognize who he really was. His hair was short now, but if you imagined some length and a clean shave—he’d look just like he did on the news. But when the dots connected, you decided to keep quiet and go along with the pleasant conversation.

“That sounds wonderful, what did you like about living there?” You leaned forward, putting an elbow on the table to prop your head. “James” began to smile more genuinely and describe the country he formerly lived.

“It was quiet, quaint. A lot different than it is here, practically the opposite.” Bucky noticed he was starting to talk about himself and changed the subject. “What about you? What’s your story? I mean—what do you do for fun?” Just as you were about to start, the waiter interrupted to take your order. It was funny, the Winter Soldier sat across from you at this table and didn’t seem the least bit scary. You were excited to see where this date would lead you, but for now you’d let him keep his secret. Either way, it’d be a hell of a story.

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 // @lenaelleu //

[st4rlvr]

hiya there!! this is a very simple request (sorry) but can you do a fic with chubby!reader x chan? or headcannons, i don’t mind!!

thank you and can you tag me in it? 💗

CHAN HEADCANNONS

chan x chubby!reader

i love this man so much my standards are through the roof

(hope you like it!) @cosmicbrownskin

-every time you’re insecure or try to cover yourself up, he gets this tiny little frown and goes “don’t do that :(” then immediately wraps his arms around you like a human blanket.

-takes random photos of you when you’re not looking. curled up on the couch. asleep on his chest. laughing in the kitchen. “look how cute you are,” he says, showing you proudly. “that’s mine.”

-when you’re lying in bed together, he traces little shapes on your thighs and arms and tummy while whispering how much he loves you. “you don’t even know what you do to me. you’re perfect. don’t argue.”

-he always lets you lay on top of him but secretly prefers when you let him cling to you. head on your stomach. arms tight around your middle. “can you just hold me forever?”

-you’re getting ready for your date — hair done, outfit on, makeup perfect — but as soon as you see yourself in the mirror, your heart sinks a little.

it’s tight. it hugs your stomach. your arms are out.

you start tugging at the fabric, debating changing into something “safer.”

that’s when he walks in.

“hey, you ready—”

he stops cold.

eyes trailing over you, lips parted, like he just got punched in the chest by how good you look.

“…woah.”

you panic. “what?”

he blinks, shakes his head. “you look—honey. wow.”

- you mumble, “i was gonna change.”

his face immediately falls. “why??”

you shrug. “it’s tight. and it shows… a lot.”

he steps closer, hands landing on your waist like muscle memory.

“yeah. and it looks so good.” he says it like it’s fact.

-doesn’t even let you cover yourself up. if you try to cross your arms or adjust your dress, he gently moves your hands.

“don’t hide, baby. please. you don’t even know how beautiful you are right now.”

- starts rattling off compliments like it’s a love poem he’s been dying to say:

“your curves are driving me insane,”

“that color on your skin?? unfair.”

“you’re so beautiful, y/n,” he says instantly.

but your silence tells him you don’t believe it.

“and i know saying it doesn’t fix the feeling, but… i need you to know it anyway.”

-touches you constantly. hand on your thigh under the table. arm around your back like a possessive boyfriend even when you’re in public. kisses the stretch marks on your hips like they’re treasure maps.

-“you don’t need to shrink yourself for the world.”

“your body is not a problem to solve.”

“you’re everything i’ve ever wanted, exactly like this.”

[lilianne-tarot]

PLEASE READ THIS

NOTE: this is a very long post, but to everyone who has followed me for some time, I would request them all to pls give this a few minutes and read this 🫶🏻

So, this is something I’ve been meaning to say for quite some time now. But life was really busy, and some really unfortunate events over the past two months, which kept me very occupied. 

People who actively engage in the tarot community may already know that heavy energies have surrounded the community for a while, and a lot has been happening.

I hope you all take a moment to read and think about what I say here before jumping to any conclusions.

SOOOO, I’ve been learning tarot since 2019. In the beginning, I used to learn through the guidebook that came with the deck I bought. Later, I started learning through online resources and a few books I purchased. I also used to watch a lot of tarot readings on YouTube to understand how to do readings in real life. I practiced consistently from 2019 to 2021, but school got really busy, and I had to stop completely for a while.

I had a file where I used to write down the meanings of tarot cards when I was in my early phase. Whenever I came across any meaning or any point I found interesting, I’d write it there. In 2022, I saw a few people using AI for tarot readings. Back then, I wasn’t even aware of such tools existed. Out of curiosity, I searched for the meanings of a few cards using AI, and I’ll admit, I found some of them interesting and wrote a few down in my file. But very soon, I realized the downsides of using AI, especially how wrong it can feel in the field of spirituality, so I completely gave up on it. Still, this might be the reason why a huge part of my tarot vocabulary sounds a certain way.

Secondly, English is not my first language, so sometimes I can feel insecure or unsure about how I express myself. Initially, I had a certain image in my mind of how I wanted my tarot readings to sound. I could easily achieve that tone and expression in my own language, but when I tried to do it in English, it didn’t sound the way I wanted, so I wanted to achieve it badly. So, I started reading books, in that genre (not related to tarot)which might help me to improve my vocabulary. But in my readings, sometimes, or say,  lot of the time ,I would write sentences in my native language and then use online translation apps to translate them into English, sometimes even rephrasing tools to improve my messy sentences. Initially, I didn’t realise that this could be problematic too. And even if my own English didn’t always match the image I had in my head, I now understand that I shouldn’t have relied on those tools. So I’ve stopped using them as well. Although I might have used translation or rephrasing tools but those were only in a few parts of my readings; most of them were completely and purely my own writing.

I became aware of both of these issues, and my conscience told me I needed to do something. So now, I’m working on redoing my past readings. If you’ve followed me for some time, you might notice that some of them have changed, and I'll redo the rest of them as well in the coming few days. I assumed this would be the best course of action, regardless of the fact that it’s taking so much more time, but honestly, it made me feel good, so I did it. I even deleted a few posts, thinking I’ll redo them properly later.

People sometimes assume my personality is sketchy or that I’m scheming, and… well, I blame my Scorpio Moon for that 😭. At this point, I don’t even mind, because it happens a lot in real life too, haha.

Also, in my personal readings, I always include the names of all the cards and pictures of the actual cards I pull. The readings resonate with so many people, whether it’s a pick-a-card or a personal reading, so you know they were genuinely channeled, even if I used an app to help rephrase things just to improve grammar.

If you read all the way till here, I’m really happy and grateful that you took the time. This was a very vulnerable post for me, and I’m glad I shared it. I feel so good after doing it.

To sum it all up: I don’t use AI to “do” my readings, and I can say that confidently.

I just felt like I should say all this all especially to the people who genuinely support me. I don’t think there’s anything to hide, so I made this post. If you want to speak with me about anything, my heart is always open💗

Thank you so much, truly 🫶🏻

[salmoninnit]

Wish You Stayed

ex!satoru gojo x reader x crush?!choso kamo pt. 1 - pt. 2

The sound of your phone buzzing awoke you from your sleep, with a groan you reach for it and open your eyes slightly. 

Satoru: Morning, you fell asleep in the car and wouldn’t wake up. I brought you upstairs and made sure to lock up before leaving. I left some alka-seltzer pills that are on your bedside table. Feel better

Same old Satoru as he was before, caring and considerate towards you even after not speaking for years. A part of you wanted to see this as a good thing but another part felt like you can’t just go back. People change in 3 years, you’ve changed in 3 years.

Nothing ever can be the same, it can only get better or worse. 

A part of you from last night wanted to see how things played out with Choso while another part of you wanted to run back to Satoru. 

You: morning, thank you for bringing me up and for the tablets. my head is pounding

He instantly replied to your message.

Satoru: Yea of course, need anything else to feel better?

You bit your lip, you wanted to ask for something just to see him. But you knew better to do that to yourself. Him being here, taking care of you? It was asking to become putty in his hands and with how shitty you feel, it’d work and rewire everything. 

You: no ill be fine! thank you for offering :) Satoru: Okay, just let me know if you do

You thumbs up the message and toss your phone on the bed. It was 10 am and thankfully you didn’t have plans. You reluctantly got up and grabbed the tablets he left for you. Letting them sizzle in the water as you go to the bathroom. 

Splashing water in your face after you freshened up felt like falling into a cold pool. You shivered as you patted your face dry. Heading back to your room you drank the water. Feeling a little less groggy as you climbed back into bed. Playing some random youtube video and laying down. 

You don’t know how long it took but you were again awoken by a buzzing from your phone. Sighing you flip it over and see it’s 2 pm and the buzzing was now a text from a random number. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx: hey it’s Choso. did you make it home safe last night? 

A flutter appeared in your stomach as you smiled. Adding his contact and replying back. 

You: hey! yea i did, a friend dropped me off. i drank so much, im suffering the consequences of my own actions Choso: i’m glad to hear you made it safe. how much did you end up drinking for you to feel that bad?  You: i lost count after my fourth round of shots and 3 drinks deep tbh Choso: one hell of a reunion for you and your friends huh?

You giggled as you tried to recount how many drinks you actually had. Kento’s beer, a mojito, two drinks with Choso, 2 shots, another mojito, another shot, another mojito, and maybe 3 other shots? No way you drank that much, your bank account shall suffer and you shall not check it. 

You: yea it was. i’ve seen most of them except one throughout these past three years and so this was the first time we were all together since highschool Choso: that’s nice, im glad you had fun. I had fun with you last night 

You feel your cheeks warm as you giggle. It really was nice talking to him, it was easy and he was kind but also intimidating. He was tall and built, probably not as tall as Suguru or Satoru. But his build definitely matched similar to theirs. 

You: i did too, would definitely take you up on that date you mentioned :P Choso: are you available tomorrow? 5 pm?  You: yea! what is the setting? how should i dress? Choso: anything you want, you’ll be pretty and fit in anywhere i have planned :) You: okay then, i’ll see you then :)

He hearts your message and you send your address to him. 

Either that alka-seltzer put in the work or the idea of a date with Choso made you feel so much better. 

You sigh as you look up at the ceiling, this was just the start of whatever will be your next few months of whatever the fuck is happening with Satoru and Choso. After 3 years of nothing romantic, all of a sudden two men appear. Even though Satoru hasn’t explicitly said he wants you (you saw him once, maybe you are a bit delusional), there was a feeling in your gut that said he does. The stares, the way he talks a bit quieter when he speaks to you, and the way he just is the old him when you were together. Less brash and nowhere near as affectionate (for obvious reasons), he still looked at you the same way he did before. 

You don’t know if he ever stopped looking at you that way, even when breaking up. Yea it was on mutual terms but the look in his eyes as you agreed to it, held every emotion he still carried for you. 

And he still carried that look in his eyes 3 years later. 

A part of you yearned for it, wish you spoke to him sooner. But you didn’t dare to reach out and neither did he. So what was the point? Still being in love with your high school sweetheart, mutual affection both ways but at the same time, you both loved old versions of each other. 

What if we changed so drastically and once found out, it wasn’t there? Would there be a point in bringing up old emotions from a previous time? From previous versions of you?

You didn’t know and didn’t want to think about it much longer.

So you let the day move on, eating and resting. The alcohol killed you but at least you hadn’t thrown up. Pretty sure the alka-seltzer really did work overtime for you. 

Lounging on your couch at 8 pm, playing a tv show and laying on your side. A knock on your door echoed through the apartment as you lowered the volume of the tv. You made your way to the door and looked through the peephole. On the other side stood Satoru, wearing a hoodie with digimon character and jeans. Your heart did a small flip as you opened the door. 

“Hey”, you said with a smile. 

“Hey, sorry for showing up like this. Wasn’t sure if you had eaten and was in the area. So I got you your favorite - or old favorite pho”, Satoru said as he held up a bag from your favorite spot. 

“It’s okay, thank you. Come in”, you say as you move aside for him to walk in. He takes off his shoes and makes his way to the table. He starts taking out the pho containers and setting them up, then he sits casually in the chair just like he used to before, like it was second nature for him.  

You shut the door and make your way to the fridge, grabbing two sodas, one coke and one dr pepper. Proceeding to the table as you sat across from him, placing the coke in front of him and grabbing your portion of the food. 

“I got you the same as before, hope you didn’t switch that”, he laughed as he opened his container. Popping the top part out and dumping it onto the noodles. Then filling the container with broth. You followed suit and let the noodles soften. 

“You know you didn’t have to do this right?”, you say as you look at him. He’s adorning a smile and now you take notice he isn’t wearing his glasses. His eyes are set on you and speaking a million words. 

“I know but it felt like a nice thing to do, plus I haven’t seen you in ages. Thought it’d be nice to just hang out”, he says as he looks down at his soup. Satoru had debated this for hours since the morning. He was hoping you’d tell him you need something, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat to see you again. Even though he doesn’t feel like he has that right anymore, he was willing to do anything to make it be his right again. 

“This is nice, I honestly was craving this after my shitty excuse for food earlier. Made a burnt grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup from a can”, you laugh as you stir your noodles around, breaking them from their mold of a circle. 

“You could’ve asked, I told you just to let me know”, he says softly as he mimics your actions with the soup. He cracks open his drink and takes a sip from it. “Still remember my likes, like I remember yours”.

“Well hard to forget when we ate and drank much of the same things back then”, you laugh and start eating your pho. 

“Fair enough, it’s like it’s embedded into my brain”, Satoru says as he starts eating. 

You fell into a silence of eating and the only thing being heard was the tv and you two eating. It felt domestic, it felt like it did before. The time changed and yet you’re still here, sitting across each other in the same way, eating the same foods you two would get, and being comfortable with each other. 

As you were finishing your pho, your phone rang on the table. You glanced at it and saw Choso’s name at the top. You inhaled and grabbed it quickly. 

“Sorry I’ll be right back”, you say as you get up and make your way to your room. 

“Hey!”, you exclaim as you make your way into your room. 

Satoru’s ears perked up at how happy you sounded. He had seen the name on your phone and by your reaction, it had to be the guy from last night. With a small groan he threw his head back. Competition wasn’t new for him, he’s always been competitive and good - no great - at everything he did. But he had never dealt with competition when it came to you. 

Having met on your first days of highschool, you two were both nerds. Relating on interests and hobbies, staying up waiting on drop dates for games or going out and buying ridiculous anime items. It was natural for you two to end up liking each other, even your friends saw it before you two did. They bet on how long it’d take for someone to make a move, it wasn’t until before the ending of freshman year that anything was said to one another. 

He confessed first like a lovesick puppy, he had seen you get hit on by some guy in another class. It was the first time he saw you blush at anyone other than him. He felt a sickening feeling in his stomach, at the thought of losing you, at the thought of you being with someone else.

And that’s when he realized he had liked you. He had rushed over to you and told you some lie to pull you away from the guy. He had dragged you outside to where you two would hangout after school with your friends but usually after they left, you two would linger there. 

“I need to tell you something”, he said nervously as he balled his hands into fists. 

“Okay what is it ‘Toru?”, you spoke lightly with a tilt of your head. Eyebrows furrowed as you stared up at him. 

“I-I like you. I don’t know how long I’ve liked you for and maybe it was the first time you smiled at me. O-Or when you gave me my keychain for my phone, or when you laughed at my joke the first week of class. Maybe I’ve liked you from the moment I got to know you. But I just know I like you. More than anyone else, more than my favorite digimon character”, he utters as he averts your gaze. 

You had stood there in awe, shock, and pure bliss. 

“Toru…I like you too. I didn’t think you’d like me back but looking back I might be a bit stupid from not realizing it”, you laugh as he shot his head back to look at you. You were looking down as he stared wide eyed. He didn’t think you’d reject him but at the same time he didn’t think you really did like him.

“Oh..I-I honestly don’t know why I didn’t think you’d like me too. Maybe we're both a little stupid here”, he laughs as he reaches for your hands, embracing them with both of his. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You gaze up at him with a saccharine smile, eyes crinkling from how genuine it is. “Really?”

He scoffs and shakes his head, “Yes really stupid. I think if you don’t answer I’ll bury myself 6 feet under”.

“Okay, I’ll be your girlfriend Satoru”, you giggle as you pull your hands away from his and hug him. He reflexively wrapped his arms around you and picked you up with a spin. You laugh out and so does he. 

Shoko won the bet, she had said you’d two be together before the end of the school year. Kento and Yu had bet you’d get together by the beginning of the next semester. While Suguru thought it’s take another year for you two to even realize it by how stupid you both were to each others yearning. 

Satoru sighs as he replays the memory, he thinks about it far too often. Having replayed every detail from that day, the days before and after. His biggest regret was breaking up with you before college. You hadn’t grown apart, it was all the same but you both wanted to focus on college. He proposed the idea after seeing all the time he’d have with school and the family business, he didn’t find it fair to you to be unavailable constantly. It hurt him to even bring it up, to even think about it. 

But you understood, you wanted the both of you to be successful in your own ways. It crossed your mind but you never voiced it. When he brought it up, you wanted to say it’d be fine and you’d understand his time away. But you knew, it would ruin you two. The lack of seeing each other and affection you both couldn’t 100% show. Would make you two grow to resent it and resent each other for not trying harder. 

So you agreed. The no contact was to not be distracted, neither of you saw each other as distractions, but you both knew it’d turn into it. So there was no fighting, no lashing out; just acceptance. It killed you both and even 3 years later, after graduating and working, you both felt the same way for one another as you did then. 

Satoru tried to move on, tried to meet new people, tried to forget about you but everyone he met wasn't you. Everyone was shallow with no true personality, you were the only one he’d met that fit him like a puzzle. So he stopped trying, he’d get hit on but turn them down. 

Now watching you get excited over someone else was killing him. He wishes he’d come around sooner, yea you met this Choso guy last night but the way you had looked at him when you had talked to him in the bar, Satoru had only seen you look at him that way. 

He knew from Suguru that you hadn’t been with anyone else since him. He reveled in the fact that you hadn’t moved on from him.

As if you’d ever truly be able to move on from one another.

But this factor of running into someone who clicked with you like he once had, had him nervous. Had him on the brink of begging you to be with him. But he couldn’t.

It wouldn’t work, maybe before, back then it would’ve. But he can tell you changed, you’re not as you were before. Not lovesick for him like he was for you. 

He might be too late but that won’t stop him from trying. 

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so guess this is my first series on here, not sure if it'll be long or short but lets see how ill do

[sgartiste]

I need to put this out there now or else I’ll never put it to words. A month or so back, I gave my recommendation for A Tale Of Ice And Smoke by SooperSara while I was in the middle of reading it. Back then I was on Chapter Twenty-Something and at this point I’ve finished it and

OH MY GOSH THIS FIC IS AMAAAAZIIIIIING!!!

First of all, Book 1 of the series is complete and has been adapted into an audiobook narrated by the author herself. Barring a few overlaps in the voice clips (;P), it’s incredibly well put together and the author represents and distinguishes the cast incredibly. If you’re interested and willing, please, please, PLEASE give it a listen.

Imma start talking about the plot itself now, so spoilers if you wanna check the fic out yourself.

So, a friend of mine introduced the concept of podfics to me a little over a year ago, and decided to check a decently sized one out to explore the genre. I chose ATOIAS because, one, it was a fandom I was familiar with, and two, it was my favorite subgenre of fics, that being girlboss roleswap AUs. (my beloved) To put it very simply, it’s basically ‘what if Katara was the Avatar?’. The story revolves around her perspective and her experience as the Avatar throughout all of Book 1, and makes damn well sure to differentiate what this role means to her from Aang. Who is also in the fic, to be clear. And also the Avatar. 

EH!? TWO AVATARS!? EHHHHHH!? So basically Aang died in the iceberg after 84 years and Katara became the Avatar, and then she encountered him in the North, and accidentally used some Avatar mumbo jumbo to bring him back to life. It was an interesting, and admittedly off-putting idea. I originally felt it detracted from the main premise, but SooperSara makes sure to both take full advantage of this plot point and ensure that this story is still very much Katara’s. It’s important to remember that a very important part of a good fic that readapts the original’s plot is to make the bits distinguishable enough to truly make their story their own, and as — especially as — the plot progresses, the author does that very well.

Let’s talk about Zuko. Zuko, Zuko, Zuko. The author ships Zutara HARD. Don’t blame her, it’s peak. Katara/Zuko was a relationship mentioned in the tags, and I was totally fine with it, but little did I know at the time, the fun girlboss roleswap AU fic was just a poorly disguised Zutara fic! To be clear, there is NOTHING wrong with that. At all. I don’t usually go for slow burn fics  barring a handful of ships I fixate on. Zutara is not one of them. That didn’t stop me from growing addicted to the relationship. 🫠 

For starters, Katara’s role as the Avatar is unknown to most of the population, as most people think it’s just Aang. The only ones who know it outside the Gaang and a couple of characters who catch her in the act, are Zuko and Iroh. So Zuko now has to both capture Aang AND Katara to complete his mission and return his honor and yadda yadda yadda and he has to do all of this without stirring suspicion lest a certain Zhao spread the news and try to take over his mission. So Zuko immediately has a strong and unique connection to Katara compared to canon which is the real basis behind the butterfly that leads to the growing relationship. He focuses his pursuits on her and her responses are muuuuuch different than Aang’s, usually by giving him an earful or the occasional fistful whilst the latter would usually attempt to disengage. That’s another thing. SooperSara really knows how to make the cast feel like the kids they are. The squabbles, sputters and scowls (:P) by all of the Gaang make them all feel so natural and in character and it really strengthens their character, especially in Katara and Zuko’s sense. The former is petty and the latter is grumpy and the dynamic between the two of them is just so, SO endearing. Anyway, Zuko ends up being as much of a protagonist as Katara as the perspective constantly changes to his and much of the most important emotional beats involve his time with the reader. Aang and Sokka also get some focus, and their characters are certainly not ignored, but Zuko and Katara are the backbone of what makes this fic so good.

The first quarter of the fic is a retelling of the first half of Book 1, while taking some creative liberties to alter certain plot points, and that was all fine and dandy and exactly what I expected, but the plot takes a BIG change during the adaptation of Episode 15 where Aang and the group have their falling out over the map to Hakoda except Zuko and June actually succeed in their mission to catch the Avatar mainly because the fight with Aang has increased meaning for Katara and Katara is actually Zuko’s primary target. The augmented drama ends up with Katara stuck on a Fire Nation ship for… quite a while. Like… for weeks. Like… the second quarter of the 80-chapter fic is in this boat, mainly in this cell. It’s a very small, tight setting. And I was initially very impatient as to when this chunk would be over, wanting to go back to ‘episodes of avatar but katara is the mc’. What I didn’t realize was how this new setting would be the perfect place for the relationship between Zuko and Katara, as well as Iroh and Katara for that matter. The way she’s so self-defeatingly and dangerously defensive in the beginning and the efforts Zuko went to make sure she didn’t end up killing herself in the cell — by keeping her in Iroh’s company — were admirable. And Katara slowly comes to realize that Zuko, despite himself and his own feelings, is, at the very least, a very decent and complicated person. And Zuko is constantly conflicted by how much he finds he cares about not only his prisoner, but the other people around him as Katara constantly calls him out and gets on his nerves in their verbal skirmishes while still showing each other respect. In the end, they’re both kids, and they were thankfully raised on good morals despite their actions. Katara’s animosity between him for his actions, calling him just as bad as Zhao, remains until he ends up saving her life when Zhao blows up Zuko’s ship. I was initially a little detached from this change, constantly wondering which chapter would be the end of this tangent, but the growing bond between these two seemingly incompatible kids had somehow snared me sometime within. The chapter where Zuko returns Katara’s necklace was the first time I have EVER cried during a fanfic, and that was only enhanced by listening to the audiobook. (Another reason to go listen to it >:[)

So, yeah. About that. Preceding The Siege of The North, Zhao dismisses Zuko’s crew and basically destroys his mission to capture the Avatar all in his father’s name, and after attempting to blow the prince up as well as his newfound doubts of his mission via Katara being herself (in the most annoying way possible) Zuko is practically broken. He survives the explosion and stows away on Zhao’s ship with Iroh and when the plans to attack the North become apparent, Zuko, good-natured, guilty, and disillusioned by Katara’s constant questions feels a responsibility to protect and prepare the Avatar for the oncoming invasion. Not necessarily because he likes her or anything… o_o …but because his own conscience, now clearer than ever, recognizes that this attack is wrong and he has to do something about it.

The entire second half of the 80-chapter fic is in the Northern Water Tribe, which I was actually happy with, especially after how my feelings changed after the Fire Nation ship. It meant we’d get to spend more time with Yue and see Katara grow as a waterbender, and it would help strengthen the character and relationships between the rest of the Gaang. It takes a bit for Katara to actually get to train, Pakku being Pakku, but it really feels as if it pays off by the end. And Zuko. Zuko, Zuko, Zuko. He shows up much earlier than in canon to warn Katara, albeit with no real plan past that… because he’s Zuko. So when he’s found, which is thankfully very quickly, Katara drags him by the ear and sticks him in an ice pit for the next twenty chapters. In that time he becomes acquainted with the Gaang and soon gets dismissed as a threat. They talk, they bond, they spar once Zuko is allowed out and the relationships get plenty of time to develop and solidify in ways that never could’ve been possible in 20 minute episodes while still maintaining an enjoyable pace, which is impressive considering this is 40 chapters that represent 2 episodes. Zuko and Katara’s relationship carries the whole thing. Zuko’s awkward, angsty and bad with feelings, and Katara’s ill-tempered, spiteful and wears her emotions on her sleeve. They’re kind of perfect for each other. The perfect people to talk to — read ‘argue with’. Seeing them feel so much responsibility and connection for each other (though, not quite love [yet]) more and more is an addicting feeling.  While I won’t spoil the ending with the Siege, I will say that everything that’s happened wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for Zhao being an asshole. So thank him for the Zutarany goodness.

But seriously, this is one of the best fics I’ve indulged in, and certainly the best one I’ve ever listened to. Author’s in the middle of Book 2 right now, which I have admittedly not begun, but I’m really looking forward to reading it.

tl;dr, came for the girlboss, stayed for the zutara. 

also sokka says fuck. 10/10 would recommend.

[sunliights]

“good.” rina isn’t in the business of wanting anyone other than the man that stands before her. even trying to distract herself from thinking about him with other people was a task she found impossible and so she took up other things. changing her hair, trying a new pilates class. none of it ever came to anything worthwhile enough to make her feel as though she’d moved on. it’s a good thing she didn’t, or else she wouldn’t be where she is now. a tingle brushes up her spine at the heaviness of his words and for a moment her mouth feels dry. “all yours,” she replies simply. to say anything else would be a challenge and it feels fitting enough when the last garment concealing her from him is pushed away. she steps out from the bottoms and nudges them aside to join her abandoned bikini top on the floor in a small pile, figuring there’s no time better than then to also urge his shorts to the floor. now when she presses her body into andrei’s she can feel the entirety of him against her, her arms winding around his neck as she pushes against him to urge him in the direction of the bed. “i’ve thought about you a lot,” she muses almost conversationally, as if that isn’t something he’s already aware of. only now she has something to add, “while i’ve been alone in my bed at night, a hand between my thighs. aching with how much i need you.”

"a kiss or two," he echoes, dragging out the words as his tongue languidly slides over a freshly pressed kiss to her skin. he can't say that he enjoys the idea of her spending time with others, no matter how necessary he knows the distraction to be every now and then. so when rina brings his mouth back up, andrei kisses her back in full, letting her tongue devour and consume him while he allows the first guarded wall to fall. "i don't intend to share you ever again, i hope you know." the possessiveness in his voice remains and his hands come up to cradle her face, anchoring her to him with her soft locks tickling the tips of his fingers. his train of thought momentarily derails the lower her hands travel and his teeth slowly sink into her lower lip as he groans softly for her. "you might have needed someone to warm your bed. it's nice to know i don't have anyone to contend with though. nobody to rip you away from." as respectful as andrei is, however, all of it seems to go out the window the moment the proverbial bedroom door is shut. hands release her, smoothing down the length of her upper arms and down her sides to reach her hips, hooking at the waistband to slide them lower and lower.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Stay in My Corner

Chapter 2 - Stay, Go

Logan Howlett X F! Reader

You and Logan discuss his next move

A/N: I was planning to upload a chapter once a week but lets have two chapters this week <3 also a little short but sweet.

Warnings: Fluff, first kisses, implied sexy time at the end ;)

Series Masterlist

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Back When

“Are you feeling better?” 

Logan nodded, handing you a root beer. He sat down next to you with a groan. “Been fine.”

“Sure, after nearly dying on top of the Statue of Liberty. Totally fine.” 

“Mm. I’ve had worse happen.” He sips his own root beer casually, then looked at you. You smiled at him. 

“You should be more careful.” 

“I always am.” 

“You- a man with metal bones, literally threw yourself at a guy who controls metal. That doesn’t scream caution.” 

“I ended up fine didn’t I?” He looks at you, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “Thanks to you.” 

You tilted your head, shooting him a look. “Yeah okay, maybe, it doesn’t mean you should go throwing yourself in harms way. ” 

He doesn’t respond, just looks away at the wall as he sips his drink again. You observed his face, noticing the crease in his brows, the frown set on his lips. Eyes focused but not on the bookshelf- somewhere else in his mind. 

“Is there something on your mind Logan?” You asked, placing your hand over his. He seemed to jump out of his thoughts, eyes glancing down to where your hands touched, then met your concerned gaze. 

He sighed, looking away. A heartbeat passed, then he looked at you again, his gaze falling back down to your hand. “While I was out I was having these…Flashes, memories..I think Charles may have unlocked something when he was prying around in my head.”

You listened, turning your body to face him on the couch, resting your head on the back cushion and squeezing his hand. “What was it?” 

“I don’t know.” He says. “I think it’s got something to do with what happened all those years ago. a lake. Lake Akali, up North.” 

“Are you thinking about going?” You ask. 

“Yeah. I…I need to find out what happened.” He looks back up at you. “Felt like I’ve been stuck all this time.” 

You nodded. “You should go.” Your thumb brushed over his knuckles gently, and you could see the small hitch in his breath from your touch. “You need to know. It’ll bring you some peace.” 

“Yeah….” 

His hand turned, taking yours in it. You noted how warm it felt- how yours seemed to fit in his perfectly. The way he was admiring the union told you that he must feel the same way. 

Since Logan has been here, there was an undeniable attraction between you both- something magnetic, constantly bringing you side to side no matter where you were. Shared glances, flirting that made Scott gag, and a constant need to find some way to touch the other. The entire team noticed. Jean has chatised you for your taste in men, Ororo has pushed you to pursue it further, and Charles merely winked at you- which was extremely cryptic but you accepted that as his support. 

“Would you come back?” You broke the silence. While you would support him in whatever he wanted to do- you merely were just getting to know each other, and there was no reason for him to come back. The mansion, the X-men, were just a strange experience of his apparently long life. He didn’t want to stay before and even though you all went through the same fight; you’re not sure if he’s changed his mind.  

He glanced up at you, and a faint smirk growing on his face. 

“Would you want me to?”

Your heart fluttered. You could have countered with something witty, something flirty, the way you’ve been- tip toe around the feelings. This time, you felt actions would be better than words. 

You took your hand from his, bringing it up to his jaw. You leaned forward to press your lips to his, gentle- giving him room to pull away but he only deepened the kiss. He leaned forward, one hand now climbing into your hair, urging you closer as the other rested on your thigh. You felt him squeeze it.

Mirth escaped you and he only smiled into the kiss in response. 

“Does that answer your question?” You parted from his lips. He hums in response. 

“Yeah- but now…”

“What?” You asked in concern. 

“Now, I don’t know if I could leave this.” He murmurs into your lips, nose bumping into yours, his hand was sliding up your thigh. Another small laugh escapes you. 

You could ask him to just stay- but you’ve seen the pain in his eyes, he was lost, he’d never be able to move on if he didn’t find out what happened to him 15 years ago. He hasn’t been able to move on, in an endless loop of cage fighting, drinking, and living in motels and a shitty camper- which was destroyed anyway. 

You liked Logan, a lot. This could get complicated, but you wanted to support him. 

“Stay for one more night then.” Your hands climbed into his hair. You pressed another kiss to his lips. “Go in the morning- take one of the cars. But-” You pulled away, hand coming down to grip his chin between your thumb and forefinger, “You have to promise, once you go there and find what you’re looking for, you come back. Got it?” 

He smiled. “Yeah, sweetheart, got it.” 

You didn't know he already decided that he was going to come back to you no matter what.

He leaned in to kiss you again, pushing you down on the couch as his hand trailed up your shirt and he slots himself between your thighs. A lingering thought in the back of his mind- something he doesn’t voice, not for a long time anyway. 

Maybe you are what I’m looking for.

[theoldgvard]

only a week until the old guard 2 releases… which seems impossible to the me sat back in 2022 checking twitter daily for updates on its production.

the run up to this film, especially over the last few years, has been incredibly frustrating. for me personally, i’ve never loved a piece of media like i’ve loved the old guard, and being used to obsessing over bigger franchises the long time without any new content was tough! but also as someone who cares about media, storytelling, representation in general, the treatment of this sequel made me feel spectacularly let down.

i think the reason this movie hit me so hard so quickly was because the media i’d loved before was so lacking in the representation it delivered - if, indeed, it delivered any at all. but the deep histories of these characters, their oddities, the way they love each other unabashedly, unashamedly, was something i felt like i’d always needed to see but never had. yes, it hits the beats of the familiar netflix action movie, but it has so much heart. the punching and kicking was never the point, the characters and their relationships and their wants and fears was the core.

it’s such a rich story with so much potential! there’s a reason people frequently say it’d be brilliant as a full-length series, and while i don’t necessarily agree that we need to see everything we know about them on screen, their story is so full that each and every moment can be impactful if people who care get their hands on it.

and now, finally, i face finding out if that’s true for the sequel.

i know these characters are played by people who care. i know this film was written and directed by people who care about honouring the legacy of the first one. but do i trust the company that oversees all of this, who left this incredible story in production limbo and even now, a week from release, is barely lifting a finger to advertise? no, i don’t.

i’ve been here before. i loved shadow and bone. but the cancellation of that i can survive; it was something i loved, not something that has so deeply become a part of me. everyone who knows me knows about my love for the old guard. it changed me as a person at a pivotal point in my life. it changed me as a storyteller forever.

the fandom surrounding these films is big, endless in their creativity and talent, endless in their support and advocation for these projects. it’s been an honour to have watched it keep marching over the last few years, and incredible to see it come to life again with the sequel finally becoming known. we deserve something good. we deserve something that cares. queer people, people of colour, women, lovers, artists, storytellers, anyone with an ounce of passion for what the first film represented, deserve the sequel to care. we don’t need bigger set pieces. we need love.

i like to remain hopeful. seeing them again will be a joy. but we are owed, those of us who felt seen by this story, those of us who have been fighting for it all the time they kept us in the dark. i just hope netflix can pay their debt.

it’s been such a long road to get here, and i just hope the struggle was worth something.

[mattlvr03]

In the Dark

Warnings: Migraine symptoms (nausea, vomiting, light sensitivity), swearing, mild medical anxiety

It starts with a sharp twinge behind her right eye—almost nothing at first. Enough to make her blink and shift her head on the pillow, hoping it’s just a weird pressure from lying the wrong way. But within minutes, it’s ballooned into something crueler, something heavy and all-consuming. The kind of pain that blots out everything else.

She sits up, slowly, clutching her head. The room spins. A wave of nausea punches through her stomach.

Matt’s breathing is slow and steady beside her, completely asleep, sprawled diagonally across the mattress like he always is. The moonlight casts soft shadows across his face, and she hates to disturb him—but the pain is screaming now, her vision starting to blur around the edges.

And then she’s on her feet, stumbling toward the bathroom, one hand on the wall, the other pressed against her mouth.

The sound of retching echoes. Her knees hit the tile.

“Baby?” Matt’s voice cuts through the haze, groggy and thick with sleep. “Y/N?”

She can’t answer—she’s too busy trying not to throw up again. But then there’s the shuffle of feet and he’s there, kneeling beside her, warm hands pulling her hair back and rubbing her spine in slow, grounding circles.

“Fuck, what happened?” he asks quietly. “Are you sick?”

She nods, barely.

“Stomach?”

She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut as another wave of pain crashes through. “Migraine,” she whispers, broken. “Really bad one.”

Matt’s whole demeanor changes. She can hear it in the silence that follows. He presses a kiss to her temple—carefully—and stands.

“Okay. Alright. I got you.”

Everything hurts. The light. Her heartbeat. The distant buzz of the fridge. But she hears him moving: the sound of the faucet, the fridge opening, pills rattling. A minute later, he’s back, crouched down with a glass of water, two Excedrin, and a cold rag.

“Here, babe. Just sip, okay?” he murmurs, sliding an arm around her waist. “Can you take these?”

She nods weakly and lets him help her drink, then leans against him, trembling. “I feel like I’m dying,” she mutters, voice hoarse.

“You’re not.” He kisses the side of her head again. “But we’re riding it out together.”

He helps her back into bed, turning off the hallway light on the way and grabbing a second trash can—just in case. The cold rag goes over her eyes while he carefully positions a pillow beneath her neck.

“I’m gonna keep the room dark,” he whispers, settling beside her. “You just tell me what you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

She reaches out for his hand and he laces their fingers together under the blanket.

“I’ve got you, Y/N,” he says again, softer this time, a steady anchor in a world that feels like it’s spinning off its axis.

She doesn’t answer. Her body’s too busy fighting itself. But the warmth of his hand and the low rhythm of his breathing are enough to keep her grounded. And eventually, finally, the storm starts to dull at the edges.

@mattspillowprincess 🤓

[barbieblue]

9 Months on HRT

Today marks nine months since I started HRT, and it’s been wild watching the changes physically, emotionally, mentally, and even spiritually.

I haven’t posted in a while.

Part of that was because I wasn’t dressing up much.

Part of it was that I didn’t always feel connected to the woman I wanted to see in the mirror so I hid. Whenever I did look, I saw only the “flaws” all the things I wished I could change.

Something shifted this past week.

I played with makeup again, styled my hair, and put on an outfit that felt right.

When I looked in the mirror this time, I didn’t see flaws. I saw me. The woman I am and the woman I’m becoming. For the first time in a long while, I felt genuinely happy.

Instead of focusing on what still needs to change, I noticed what has changed:

My face looks softer.

My skin feels softer.

My body has new curves.

My clothes fit better.

I felt prettier than I have in ages. More aligned, more me.

Of course, there were plenty of dysphoric days along the way. Times I questioned whether any of this was worth it. But seeing myself in the mirror this week reminded me it absolutely is. Even when I couldn’t feel it, I was still growing.

I still have work to do on becoming my fullest self, but I’m proud of how far I’ve come and grateful for where I am right now.

To anyone reading this,especially my trans sisters,happy Pride!

Be your true, authentic self, and you’ll see how beautiful you already are.

I love you. 💙