#like... i feel like my life should be so different. but its not aside from me having a job.

[botseeksbot]

[katamarigender]

I don't feel 20

[qqueenofhades]

I think its genuinely fascinating how Biden has somehow become the bad vibes sin eater for the party. I'm seeing people who were doing the whole "voting doesn't matter both old men are the same" pivot hard into voting as harm reduction. The anti voting rhetoric has COMPLETELY lost The Youths on tiktok. People suddenly remember the good things the Biden administration has done but don't associate Harris with any of the things they didn't like. In my swing state volunteers are signing up in droves. People feel ENERGIZED, the vibe shift pre and post Biden dropping from the race has just been insane

Y'know, that is a... good way of putting it. It's also why I'm quite sure that Biden has probably been planning it for a while. I don't think he was intending to step down, and didn't want to be forced out at the drop of a hat, but after he realized that the circus was never going to stop until he did, he did the honorable fall-on-his-own-sword thing and definitely, DEFINITELY spent some time choreographing this behind the scenes. Because while the roll-out has been very smooth, it could just as easily (as many of us were expecting) have been a total disaster, and that doesn't happen without SOME planning. It's also entirely possible that the campaign staff flipped from Biden to Harris are superhuman, to come up with a massive online roll-out, new branding, new signs (they had plenty of 'em in Wisconsin yesterday), new everything, but I'm guessing it's a combination of both. Biden has spent his entire political career being underestimated, and after we literally made a meme out of Dark Brandon juking the Republicans out of their shoes, we should definitely give credit where credit is due in how masterfully he pulled it off.

Because we have had eight years defined by the central question of Whether The President Is a God King Who Should Serve For Life (the MAGAts obviously think yes), the sheer idea of a president willingly giving up his power BEFORE he had to is also novel and admirable. It's sad that this is the case, but so be it. The Republicans also got a heaping helping of Be Careful What You Wish For that was undoubtedly brilliant; they've been yelling for years that Biden is old and frail and can't serve and should step down. Biden went "lol okay" and gave it to them, and now they're fucked.

Aside from that, on the most basic level, it's far, far easier to see the actual difference in the parties with Harris as the nominee, just because it shows that one party is willing to make progress and reflect the new demographic reality and social mores of America, and the other one is not. Now to be clear, Biden deserves an incredible amount of credit for coming out of retirement (he was ALREADY 77 years old when he became president and had had decades of a long and respected career in public service behind him) to fight, beat Trump, and deliver an incredibly successful presidency. He held the line against authoritarianism at home and abroad, he rescued the trashed American economy and managed a world-leading recovery from Covid, he stood up for democracy, he spent four years filling the benches with liberal judges to reverse even some of the Trump/McConnell hack job, he finally passed comprehensive infrastructure investment and the Green New Deal under the name of the Inflation Reduction Act -- and so on. Many of these priorities had been languishing for decades or were completely trashed under Trump, and he could not have done so much in just 4 years without all that age, skill, and experience. Hence why all the Ageism!!! was (aside from being a Republican/media smear job) dumb. He's able to do the job because he has had decades to study. Turns out that makes you actually pretty damn good at it.

Yes, Biden could not do as much as he wanted or originally planned, had to deal with MAGA Republicans and Joe Manchin/Kyrsten Sinema sabotaging him the whole time (lololol Manchin, possible possessor of the World's Biggest Ego and with Trump around that's saying something, popping out of obscurity to self-righteously announce he would not be willing to be Kamala's VP. YEAH ASSHOLE. LITERALLY NOBODY ASKED YOU. NOBODY WHATSOEVER. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS AT LEAST WE WILL SOON NO LONGER HAVE MANCHIN IN THE SENATE). And yes, Biden made some serious mistakes of his own, because he IS from an older generation and a different style of doing politics/different beliefs that no longer resonate with the younger segments of the electorate. But this old white Catholic guy at the age of almost 80 still managed to be the most progressive president ever, coming in at a moment of incredible domestic and international crisis and getting us safely to the other side, and all cynicism, criticizing, and caveating aside, he deserves an incredible amount of credit for that. I mean that absolutely, and I am very grateful.

As I said, willingly relinquishing that power takes guts, and when Biden saw the writing on the wall that he had to sacrifice himself, he took his time, he didn't jump too early, and he didn't jump too late. On the most basic level, it becomes a hell of a lot easier to make the "both parties are not the same" argument when one is running a (comparatively) young brown woman and the other is still running their loathed felonious old demented orange traitor. Most Americans are not plugged into policy minutiae and details. They look at Biden-Trump, they see two old white guys. When you take one of those old white guys away (who goes in a self-sacrificially heroic manner and in sharp contrast with the coup-happy fascist) and put Kamala Harris in there instead, it generates an obvious jolt. People can see for themselves that there is a real difference that doesn't rely on closely reading news and tracking complex policy, because as noted, most Americans simply don't. The brown first-generation American daughter of brown immigrants is a quantifiably different story from "old white guy career politician," which for better or worse is how Biden was seen, especially the old part. We needed that establishment expertise to beat Trump in 2020; I still think Biden is the only one who could have done it, and as noted, we owe him a great debt for doing so.

However.... 2024 is not 2020, and it is not 2016. There has been this HUGE and unbelievable swing to Kamala because she represents the antithesis of what the last eight years of Trump-induced anger, fear, panic, chaos, and hatred has stirred up. That's why people are so ready to rally around her, just as they were (I daresay) around Obama in 2008, after the exhaustion, chaos, war, and mounting economic misery of Bush. Trump has been out of office for the last four years, but his shadow over the American political landscape has been omnipresent. Now people know that we finally have a real chance at getting rid of him forever, and just as Biden was uniquely positioned to capitalize on that in 2020, so Harris is now. Which is why, however tough it will be, she has a real shot at winning. I can guarantee the Republicans know that, and are shit scared. Because the Black Lady Army of Democracy has indeed arrived in force to Get This Shit Done and I don't know about you, but I found that incalculably comforting:

Yikes! All lined up for Kamala pic.twitter.com/Dt4OCDp7WX

— Alex Cole (@acnewsitics) July 24, 2024

This, at the most basic level, is what scares fascists the most, it's exactly what we need now, and what Harris is uniquely positioned to mobilize, along with her gangbusters appeal to young voters:

This is the energy we need. This is what Biden saw and planned for and which he launched us into, and where all that experience and age paid off. This is why people, even people otherwise disengaged, disillusioned, or checked out of the tedious and mind-numbering drudgery and depression of American politics, are responding to it. Because it's easy to understand, it offers hope, and it tells a very simple story that is nonetheless long overdue:

Thanks so much, Joe. Go absolutely waste that orange fucker, Kamala. We got your back.

[falinscloaca]

this is no place of honor. nothing good is buried here. like, look at those tags, jesus fucking christ icansayithewasalsojewish there they are, i'm at fucking PEAK 2:11 in the morning brain and i got hooked on the discourse rod like two hours ago at this point? i've been rewriting the same sentence over and over again trying to come up with a way to insult most of the people on this site while excluding all the people i'd feel legit fucking terrible making feel bad (which. includes forseeably anybody reading this unless the grace of god does- AAAAAAAUGHGHGHGGG JUST PUBLISH THE FUCKING THING

yooo this post literally begins "as a trans woman" and is about "discourse", uncool fetish shit, and like. idfk if theres even word for that other thing. People That Are Not Trans Women Keep Your Mouths Shut On This. Maybe Nobody Should Reply At All Actually? i've reached paranoid moralizing stink-beast levels that i don't even really know what to logically do with like i SHOULD post something and this is like my fifth time trying but also it feels deeply unwholesome to either reject or welcome outside input.

being a a trans woman, (which is. fucking relevant because YES THIS SHIT GETS TUMLBRFIED ALONG DEMOGRAPHIC LINESSSSS I'M REWRITING A FOLLOW UP THAT MORE DIRECLTY MADE CLEAR IT WAS ABOUT TRANSMISOGYNISTIC REACTIONS TO THINGS-RANGING-FROM-COMPLETELY-INNOCUOUS-TO-FRINGE-CASE-PERVERT-SHIT-I.-JFC-I-CANT-EXPLAIN-IT-MORE-AGAIN-I'LL-COLLAPSE) one who is NOT immune to internet horny in all its forms ranging from innocuous to.... Less [private information/"backstory" expunged tldr the internet can fuck you up especially if you grow to view it as a place of refuge] and is ALSO extremely adamant that Hey I Think That People Should Face Repercussions For Publicly Saucing Up On "Gross" (don't. make me spell out the exact points at which i think the enjoyment of a particular subject can be morally justifiable we'd be here all week and we'd kill ourselves before the talk was done) Shit but ALSO also the moral phucking filosopher in me can't shake off the feeling that Even Kink Shaming For Legit "Dangerous" Shit (in. interpersonal and cultural normalization ways not "shoot your boyfriend in the pancreas" ways) Still Fucking Counts As Sexual Harassment*** and. ghahghhhh.

at least if i didn't have a moral backbone i could hang out with those smug pretentious fictional bullshit loving DOUCHEBAGS but no i guess i'd chose "foolhardy and can-have-their-sense-of-Innate-Morality-swayed-into-fascistic-tendencies yet barring those incidencees are still fundamentally deep down good" to "i have pleasured myself with uranium-27 every evening for the past three years and its everyone elses problem, radiation is a puritanical myth" (or for that matter "foolhardy and easily swayed into fascistic tendencies and pretending to be good but its mostly people getting mad at trans women for calling themselves dogs or being furries". i do not intend to equivocate The Bad Thing Thats Transmisogynist with my own fucking sad little adoptive poop house filled with people failing to actually make any progress in extricating 'that stuugh' from the contexts where its fucking dangerous but like hey we're trying and i guess thats better than worshipping the the fucking stuff)

*** just bc i call it that doesn't mean arguments can't be made as to why its necessary or for the public good bla bla bla i'm not strictly arguing against it its just. even entertaining that it might be a lesser of two evils opens up so many fucking unsanswerable questions and my feelings-of-personal-shame-and-guilt engines just start kicking in bc this shit can't even be framed as "rationally" or "concisely" as a fucking trolley problem i'm moral relativisming my way into absolutism somehow i pray for hell to be real so that the duty of judgement can be left to hands other than my own for I Too am imperfect (albeit not in a way that gets off to children, LOL, get fucked i do still have the moral highground, like not over YOU necessarily but over those *other* dipshits that neither of *us* like)

[honeytonedhottie]

incorporating luxury⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌺

this is a remake from one of my older posts in my newer style, im having a lot of run doing post remakes bcuz its a rly good way for me to display my old work to my newer audience, and add on ofc.

when u think of luxury, oftentimes we tend to think of materialistic things like expensive shopping sprees, expensive trips and brands. and although that is luxury, luxury isnt a solely materialistic thing.

luxury is abundance. luxury can be incorporated thru ur habits, the way that u hold and manage urself etc. u dont have to wait until u reach ur financial goals to live in luxury.

SET STANDARDS FOR URSELF ;

set a high standard for urself and the rest will follow. when u pour into urself the way that should, you'll literally exude luxury. luxury is synonymous with self care. when u care for urself the way that u should, and when u give urself princess treatment everyone else will too. treat urself RIGHT.

if u wanna live in luxury or be a luxurious girlie there are STANDARDS that ur environment should meet, the company that u choose to surround urself with, the thoughts in ur head etc. there is a new standard when u decide to live differently.

DECIDE AND DIRECT ;

once u decide what luxury means to you, direct ur focus towards that thing. for example if luxury to u means convenience and a fresh space, invest in organizational tools that'll make ur life more convenient. invest in candles and cleaning products etc. once u find out what luxury means to you -> direct ur money that way 

the idea behind this basically is whatever makes u feel the most luxurious or whatever adds luxury to ur life, u should identify it and aim to do that thing more often. that way u can familiarize urself with the luxury that u deserve.

BE INTENTIONAL ;

take ur time and slow down. take ur time to rly process and romanticize and enjoy ur life. experience it. give yourself time to sit with ur thoughts and ponder.

be choosy with everything, the people u surround urself with, the foods that u consume, the products that u use etc.

set aside time for urself to breathe and think about things that are interesting to you. also, choose the words that u say with intention, do everything intentionally to truly EXPERIENCE.

ADAPT A MINDSET OF ABUNDANCE ;

think as IF. nothing is too good for u and u only deserve the best that life has to offer so why wouldn't you let urself experience that? change the way that u think and the rest will follow.

MANIFEST things that are favorable to u. dont ever come from a place of lack. so stop saying things like "i can't afford this" instead say, this doesn't serve me right now i can do x,y, and z instead.

DO AFFORDABLE THINGS IN LUXURY PLACES ;

physically place urself in an abundant area. for example, go to a pretty cafe in an affluent area and do some work there, get some tea or coffee. doing so literally puts u in a different space, and around different people.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER TWO ━━ Silence and Static

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 4.5K

☆ ━ warnings: nothing really, paige is just kinda emo lol

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: sorry this is such a filler and it’s boring but it’s meant to serve as a basis for paige’s perspective after her and dani’s fall out

THE START of senior year has a bitter taste that Paige wasn’t prepared for. She’s envisioned this time in her life in so many different ways—dominating on the court, coasting through classes with Dani by her side, enjoying the final months before the world outside St. Louis Park opens up to them. But reality always has a way of shattering things, leaving Paige to pick up the pieces of what’s supposed to be the best year of her life.

The ache in Paige’s chest is a constant reminder of what she’s lost—or more accurately, what’s been torn away from her without any explanation. As she sits at the edge of her bed, staring at her phone, Paige’s fingers hover over the message icon, the urge to text Dani overwhelming. She doesn’t know what she’d say; she just wants to talk her. But the memory of her and Dani’s last conversation stops any true thought or idea of communicating with the brunette. She was so hostile, so cold, so different from Dani—who’s always been warm and kind and true. And now Paige stares at the last message she received from the girl and it hurts her eyes to even look at.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

i’m going to camp, won’t have my phone

sorry

It was sent in early June, and that was it. No further explanation, nothing to ease the anxiety that had gripped Paige the rest of the summer afterwards. And now, Dani and Paige are both back, and yet, the aforementioned is more distant than ever before. The silence between them has grown thick, suffocating, leaving Paige alone with her thoughts and the static of unanswered questions buzzing in her mind.

With a heavy sigh, Paige tosses her phone aside and forces herself to get up and get dressed. She goes through the motions: pulling on her favorite UConn hoodie, tying her shoes, grabbing her bag. But everything just feels off. The hoodie’s too heavy, her shoes too tight, and the backpack weighs down her shoulders more than it should. It’s as if the world has shifted slightly, leaving her out of sync with everything around her.

As Paige trudges down the stairs, she finds her dad and Drew in the kitchen, the two of them already busy with their morning routine. The smell of bacon and maple syrup fills the air, though it doesn’t bring its usual comfort to Paige.

“Senior year, P!” her dad, Bob, chirps, grinning sideways at his daughter as he packs Drew’s lunch box. “You excited?”

Paige forces a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

Bob’s brows furrow slightly at her tone, sensing the lie beneath the surface, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he just hands Paige a piece of bacon, which she gladly accepts. “I’m sure you’ll have a good time,” he replies, clearly trying to be reassuring.

Paige nods, sending him a short smile before making her way over to Drew. He sits at the table, eating his pancakes. She ruffles his hair a little, and then kisses it lightly, saying, “Have a good first day, ‘kay? Better tell me all about it when you get home.”

Drew will be in first grade and he’s been bustling with excitement to start back up in school since it ended, having had a wonderful kindergarten year. Paige adores her little brother’s innocence, his love for learning. It clenches at her heartstrings a little bit, though—it feels like he’s growing too fast.

Drew sends his older sister a grin, saying with his mouth full, “I will, Paigey!”

She smiles back, this one reaching her eyes a bit more, before mumbling her goodbyes, Amaya sending a text telling Paige she’s here. No, Paige does not have her license yet—no, she doesn’t want to talk about it. She heads out the door, the morning air crisp. It does little to clear her mind. She smiles a little at her sophomore friend as she gets into the passenger seat, greeting her. Amaya grins back, though she’s clearly unhappy with the fact summer’s over.

When they arrive, the parking lot is already half-full, students milling about in groups, laughing and talking and probably complaining about the fact that school’s back in session. Paige isn’t offended when Amaya leaves her side to go to her friends in her own grade, bounding over to them happily. Besides, the blonde has already spotted Thaliah Sommers and KK Adams near the entrance, the pair waving at her with tired smiles.

“Hey, P,” KK greets. “Senior year, yeah?”

“Seems like it,” Paige replies, glancing at the building, lips pulled into a tight line. She doesn’t even bother trying to fake another smile, expression brittle at this point. Her friends don’t seem to care; they both look more than exhausted, their summer sleep schedules most likely not mingling well with the early arrival time.

“Can’t believe I have a first period,” Thaliah grumbles, wiping at her eyes. Truthfully, the girl looks as if she’s just rolled out of bed—sporting a sweatshirt and sweatpants, face bare. It seems as though senior year has made them all careless.

“Yeah, but at least you get out after fourth,” Paige reasons, shaking her head as she thinks of her own schedule. “I have all these random free periods between my classes, so I gotta stay here all day. I’ll prolly just end up bothering Coach during ‘em.”

“I’d hate that,” Thaliah agrees, scrunching her face up as the three of them begin to walk into the building, recognizing that class starts in a few short minutes.

Inside, the familiar sights and sounds of the first day of school surrounds Paige. Lockers slamming shut, freshman looking lost, teachers already reprimanding students. To her disappointment, Paige doesn’t feel a single ounce of excitement as she takes in her surroundings, instead only feeling an unfamiliar sheen of anxiety graze over her skin. She knows why. Lately, everything that’s wrong with Paige has led back to the same thing. Dani has always been her constant; though, now, it’s in a far different way than it was before. Dani seems to be the source of all of Paige’s problems, all of her recent negative feelings, the new emotions she’s been experiencing. The absolute lack of Danielle Callan has rocked Paige’s world more than most would believe possible.

And Paige has no idea whether it helps or not that her first class of the day is AP Lit—the only class she and Dani will have together the whole school year. When they were signing up for classes last spring, it was Dani’s idea to take it together. Dani had always planned to take it, but when she found out that none of their friends had that same idea, she needed someone. And that someone—always—was Paige. The blonde was hesitant, because, truthfully, she’s only ever heard bad things about the class. The teacher’s good—Paige knows that, she had her for English her freshman year—but, according to some of Paige’s older friends that have since graduated, the class is apparently a shit ton of reading and too difficult for her own good. Yet, because it was Dani, Paige had agreed. And the thought of spending that hour with Dani every single day was enough to make the thought of tackling Shakespeare and Faulkner bearable (especially knowing that Dani would be there to help her). But now, as Paige steps into the typical flamboyant English type of classroom, the reality of what happened over the summer hits her like a tidal wave.

Dani’s already there, sitting in the middle row, her light brown hair pulled up into a messy bun. She looks tired, shoulders slightly hunched and dark circles under her eyes, gazing vacantly at her desk. Paige’s heart twists a little at the sight. It’s not as if Paige hasn’t seen Dani at all since their fight—she has. They live right next door to each other, of course she has. But it still hurts all the same. To be completely cut off with little to no explanation by your best friend who you also happen to be hopelessly in love with is fucking painful.

Paige hesitates in the doorway, her feet rooted to the ground as her eyes stay on Dani. She wants nothing more than to go to her, to sit beside her like they always have, to pretend that everything is okay, even if it’s not. But something in Dani’s posture, in the way she keeps her eyes downcast, warns Paige to stay back and keep her distance.

“Oh, Paige!” Mrs. Donovan, the AP Lit teacher, calls out in excitement as her eyes land on her student. She grins brightly—a bit too brightly for the early hour, Paige can’t help but think—and gestures to a desk. The one that’s— “You’re right behind Danielle!”

Dani doesn’t look up at the sound of her name, doesn’t bother to acknowledge Paige’s presence at all. The blonde swallows hard, forcing herself to move. She slides into the seat Mrs. Donovan gestured to, the one right behind Dani, her heart pounding against her rib cage. From this close, Paige can see the tension in Dani’s shoulders, the way her fingers tap anxiously against the surface of the desk. Paige can only imagine how Dani’s feeling—but, still, she’s usually mostly accurate. Dani’s always been more introverted, and new schedules, new routines, and new people tend to make her anxious. Paige can tell she’s feeling that way right now. Because, despite everything, Dani is still Dani. And Paige will always know Dani. The blonde wants to reach out, to say something—anything—but the words only stick in her throat.

As the bell rings and Mrs. Donovan starts the class, handing out syllabi and talking about what to expect for the year, Paige’s mind strays far from the discussion. Instead, she finds herself staring at the back of Dani’s head, thoughts and memories circling through her head with unwarranted clarity.

JULY 2013

THEY’RE ELEVEN years old, and the summer sun blazes over them as Paige and Dani sit on the swings at the park near their houses. It’s a place they’ve been coming to for years, one of their constants. In fact, it’s actually where they first met.

The air is thick with the scent of freshly cut grass, mingling with the sweet aroma of the cherry popsicles the girls devoured earlier. Paige’s legs pump the air lazily, the tips of her shoes grazing the ground, while Dani swings a bit higher, her hair flying out behind her like a banner in the wind. The worn-out metal creaks with each swing, a familiar sound that blends into the background of their laughter and chatter.

“Race you to the top!” Dani suddenly shouts, voice filled with a reckless enthusiasm that usually belongs in Paige’s instead. Without waiting for a response, Dani leaps off the swing, her feet hitting the ground with a soft thud, making a beeline for the jungle gym.

Paige’s laugh bursts out of her before she can help it, and she scrambles to follow, heart pounding with the thrill of the chase. “No fair, you started first!” she calls, her words trailing behind her as she races after her best friend.

They reach the platform that hovers above the slide, the same spot where Dani broke her arm years before. Paige remembers it vividly—how Dani had cried, the way her elbow was bent all weird, and how Paige had held her hand the entire car ride to the hospital. The spot is a little scarred now, but it doesn’t stop them from sitting side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge as they survey their world from above.

From this vantage point, Paige can see so much more. The neighborhood spreads out before them like a patchwork quilt, each house a different square, each tree a different shade of green. The sun casts long shadows, making the world below them seem like a dream, distant and hazy. There’s a stillness in the air, a peaceful quiet that Paige—for once—isn’t the one who breaks.

“P?” Dani asks, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Paige hums in question, keeping her gaze out before her instead of on the girl next to her. There’s something in Dani’s voice that makes her brain short circuit a little, a seriousness that doesn’t belong in the carefree world around them. “Yeah?” Paige asks, trying to sound light, though a small knot of worry forms in her stomach.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Dani’s words hang in the air between them, heavy and laden with thought.

Paige turns to look over at her now, eyebrows furrowed in surprise. Dani’s never been the type to dwell on what’s ahead—in fact, she says it scares her too much to even think about it. Instead, she usually submerges herself in now, living in the moment, seizing the day with both hands.

“What d’you mean?” Paige replies, voice soft, almost afraid to shatter whatever fragile thing Dani is holding onto.

Dani shrugs, her shoulders rising and falling with a casualness that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Like… what we’ll be like when we’re older,” Dani elaborates, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “We’re starting middle school now, and I always hear things about friends drifting apart. I just wonder if, when we’re older—like high school or something—if we’ll still be friends. Or if things will have changed.” Dani keeps her eyes out on the horizon, expression thoughtful as Paige gazes at her.

Paige feels an odd tension in her stomach at the thought of losing Dani, of the possibility of their friendship fading away. It’s too painful, too much that would be taken at once, to even consider. Dani is Paige’s constant, her anchor in a world that sometimes feels too big and too overwhelming for the eleven-year-old. The idea that they could ever grow apart feels like a betrayal of everything they’ve ever promised each other.

“We’ll always be friends,” she says with confidence. Because, in what world could they not be? “Nothing will ever be able to change that, ‘kay?”

Dani finally looks back at Paige now, her expression softening, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Slowly, the seriousness begins to seep out of her. “Promise?”

Paige doesn’t hesitate, reaching out to hook her pinky around Dani’s. It’s a childish gesture that fits the friendship between two young girls. But this time, it’s true—a vow that they’re both determined to keep.

“Promise,” Paige echoes, squeezing Dani’s pinky with her own.

As they sit there, side-by-side on the playground, the world feels small and manageable, just for a little while longer. And, here and now, Paige allows herself to believe that nothing with ever come between her and Dani—no matter what.

PAIGE BLINKS, the memory fading just as their promise did. It hurts all over to think about the fact that she was so sure that nothing would ever come between them, that their friendship was absolutely unbreakable. But now, here they are, strangers but not at all, bigger walls being built between them each and every day.

The weight of that lost connection presses down on Paige’s chest, making it hard to breathe. Her lungs flare in and out. She wants—needs—to do something, to find a way to bridge the gap between them. But she just doesn’t know how, the silence and static between them far too heavy. And the fear that she might never get the chance to again is almost enough to make Paige’s lungs go out completely.

Mrs. Donovan’s voice drones on in the background, but Paige can’t focus on the words. All she can see is the back of Dani’s head, the way her highlights illuminate her brown hair at certain angles, the way she shifts uncomfortable in her seat every now and then, probably feeling the weight of the blonde’s gaze tearing into her back. It’s almost as if an invisible barrier has been built between them, one that Paige can’t tear down no matter how hard she tries.

Finally, the bell rings, signaling the end of class. Paige watches as Dani gathers her things quickly, avoiding eye contact with the blonde as she hurries out of the room. Paige lingers there for a second, heart sinking slightly as she watches Dani slip out the door, her back rigid, her steps quick and purposeful.

Paige feels a mixture of relief, dread, and—oddly enough—excitement. Relief that first period is over, dread at the thought of facing Dani again. But, at the same time, excitement about seeing Dani again. Because if this is the only time Paige can see her, if AP Lit is truly all Paige will ever be able to get out of the brunette again, she’ll take it. As pathetic as it sounds, she’ll take as much—or as little, she supposes—of Dani as she can get.

THE FOOTBALL game is the first big event of the back to school season, and Paige stands there in the student section with Thaliah and Amaya. It’s not like Paige has any particular interest in football; of course, she’s always preferred basketball. But she’s been in need of a distraction, something big and exciting enough to pull her out of the unfamiliar melancholy that’s settled over her, and it seems like a high school football game under the lights is the perfect choice.

The student section is alive with energy, the kids screaming and chanting things that they probably shouldn’t be as the game kicks off. Paige does her best to lose herself in the excitement. She screams along with her friends, sweating slightly under the setting sun, grabbing a Hawaiian lei excitedly when KK offers her one. It’s beach theme tonight—Paige tried to fit into it, wearing sunglasses and some beach button up with a white crop top, the lei helping to add to it.

But as Paige’s eyes drift along the players, along the field, along the track—her eyes land on her and it’s almost as if any and all excitement that had settled inside of Paige is whisked away, just like that. Dani stands on the sidelines, between the line of football players and the cheerleaders, her camera clicking away. It’s not like this is a new thing—Dani did this last year, for yearbook, and Paige shouldn’t be surprised to see her doing it again this year.

The Callan girl has always been passionate about photography, and it’s one of the many things that Paige has learned to love about her through the years. Paige knows that Dani has a way of almost losing herself in the click of her camera, finding beauty in the smallest details, the most mundane moments captured and crafted into something beguiling. Dani used to show Paige all the photos she’d taken, scrolling through the storage on the camera. The two of them would huddle over the device, and Paige would help her best friend pick the best photos for whatever project she was working on in yearbook.

And then, of course, there’s the other memory card that Dani has—the one that Paige knows is labeled “P.” It’s simple—all of the scattered photos that Dani has taken of Paige over the years, all put together on one little storage device. Dani told Paige several times that it was her greatest piece of work, merely because Paige was the star of it. Yet, for a while, Dani didn’t let the blonde look into it, keeping the memory card hidden away. But, eventually, Paige’s curiosity got the better of her and she’d found the card and scrolled through the photos. There were some from when Dani first got into photography, when they were much younger, with chubbier cheeks and more crooked smiles. A good amount was the photos Dani got of Paige court-side, some for the yearbook, some just reserved for the two of them. And then there was the candid ones—Paige remembers scrolling through them, and the look in her own eyes that stared at Dani from behind the camera… God, she remembers thinking that it seems she was whipped from the very beginning.

Paige’s heart clenches at the thought of that memory card, and wishes she was a photographer so she could have one of Dani. She’s got a fair few—or, well, a lot—of photos of Dani on her phone, but it’s just not the same. Faintly, Paige wonders what Dani’s done with the “P” card. Maybe she threw it away, crushed it into tiny little pieces, tossing it into the trash like she did her and Paige’s friendship. Or maybe—maybe—she’s kept it. Paige hopes it’s the latter; she imagines Dani, late at night, thinking of Paige like Paige has been thinking of her, and then going through the photos of her, wishing she could take back everything she said.

Paige almost rolls her eyes at her own thoughts. She’s almost sure Dani threw it away.

And then, the blonde is pulled out of her own head by the sound of the crowd erupting into a series of cheers, the band beginning to play. She glances at the field, then at the scoreboard, realizing she’s just missed a touchdown. Thaliah and Amaya and all the students around Paige are jumping up and down, chanting for Hopkins. Paige joins in, trying to drown herself in it, doing her best to put her mind to rest and just have some fun—she’s always been so good at that; she wishes it wasn’t so hard to do recently.

When the final whistle blows, signaling the end of the game, Hopkins pulls through with a narrow win. The crowd is excited for their first victory of the season, screaming those “start the buses” and “who’s your daddy” chants that Paige has always found ridiculously hilarious. Eventually, everyone begins to disperse, and Paige stands with Thaliah and Amaya, the three of them following the rush of students leaving the bleachers.

Amaya quickly tells Paige and Thaliah that she has to go to the bathroom, rushing towards the building. The other two girls stand around patiently, people watching their peers. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long until Paige’s eyes once again find Dani’s frame. The brunette is packing up her camera gear, hauling a small duffel on her shoulder.

Thaliah follows the blonde’s gaze, nudging her gently. “You should go talk to her,” she says encouragingly, nodding towards Dani.

Paige shakes her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “She doesn’t want to talk to me.” It’s true; she remembers their last conversation—the cold look in Dani’s eye, the forced indifference, the river she rushed to drown Paige away.

“You’ve been miserable,” Thaliah says, point-blank. Paige’s eyes shift to her left, where the tanned girl stands beside her, brows furrowing in almost offense. “Don’t side-eye me like that—you know you’ve been miserable. And I think you’ve got nothing to lose these days when it comes to Dani, so you might as well just try.”

Paige doesn’t answer, eyes merely locking back onto her best friend. Without thinking, almost like her legs are moving of their own accord, the blonde starts walking towards Dani. She doesn’t know what she’s going to say, doesn’t know if Dani will let even let a word slip out of her mouth. But Thaliah’s right: it’s worth a shot. Paige can’t leave without even trying.

As she approaches, she watches Dani glance up, eyes meeting Paige’s. It lasts for only the briefest of seconds before Dani plainly averts her gaze, eyes anywhere but on the blonde walking up to her. Paige feels her heart stutter against her rib cage, threatening to sink at the sight, but, nevertheless, she keeps going, only stopping when she’s a few feet away from the brunette.

“Dani,” Paige murmurs, her voice soft, almost pleading. It’s all she can say; she doesn’t know what else to say.

The basketball player watches as her best friend’s body goes rigid, her hands stilling on her camera bag. It takes a second, but eventually Dani looks up, meets Paige’s gaze, brown on blue. There’s an unnameable emotion swirling within the Callan girl’s irises, and Paige wants nothing more than to step closer, to look deeper in them, to decipher exactly what’s going on in her best friend’s head. But she doesn’t. Paige stays rooted in place. And, for one, stupid moment, she believes that Dani might actually say something, that maybe this could be the first step in their repair.

But it doesn’t last.

“Dani!” multiple voices echo the name from the pair’s right. Paige turns to see Beau Hudson, still clad in his football gear and eyeblack, grinning and waving at Dani—his girlfriend, the blonde thinks, sickly—beckoning her over. He seeps with the same overconfidence he’s had the twelve years that Paige has known him, and it makes her blood boil over slightly. By his side is Serena Corren—a cheerleader that also happens to be Beau’s best friend, who’s famously known for her sharp tongue and dismissive attitude—also grinning and waving. Serena and Beau stand with a group that’s more than excited and impatient for Dani to join them.

Paige’s stomach twists at the sight. It’s clear that her best friend has integrated herself into this new crowd, one that Paige has always found superficial and unkind.

“I have to go,” Dani mutters to Paige, not meeting the blonde’s eyes. She slings her bag over her shoulder before hurrying off to her new friends, leaving Paige standing there, aching all over.

Paige watches Dani go, feeling like the weight of the world is pressing on her shoulders, weighing her down. She wants to scream, to cry, to do something to make Dani see that they don’t have to be like this, that they can fix whatever has gone wrong. But she can’t. So, instead, she just stands there, staring, missing her best friend.

Yes, Paige misses her. God, she misses her so much that it fucking hurts—it hurts her insides, her outsides, her bones, her skin. It makes her feel all wrong. Every part of her aches with the absence of Dani Callan, the loss of everything they’ve had. She misses Dani’s smile, the gleam in her eyes when she’d look at Paige, the giggles she’d let out whenever the point guard made a stupid joke. She misses the way Dani used to make her feel—alive, whole, like she could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, as long as Dani was by her side.

But now all of that’s just—gone. And that’s clear as day as Paige watches Beau Hudson wrap his arm around Dani before pressing a firm kiss to her mouth.

She’s going to be sick.

Paige feels a hand on her arm, a head resting on her shoulder. It grounds her a little. Thaliah mumbles, “It’s gonna be okay, P.”

Paige doesn’t have the heart to say it, but she knows that’s not true. There is nothing okay with the fact that Dani is slipping—or, she supposes, has already slipped—through her fingers. There is nothing okay with the loneliness and pain that comes with it.

Paige doesn’t really know if anything will ever be okay again.

[bianquitasworld]

maybe a Dave Lizewski x reader period comfort? Ite that time of the month and as always it’s never fun 😔

Rest and Relaxation

Dave Lizewski x Reader

Warnings: None to my knowledge, aside from talks of menstruation.

A/N: I’m on my period right now and I’m literally fighting for my life. 💔

Dave couldn't help but notice the silence in the atmosphere as soon as he entered the apartment he shared with his girlfriend.

Usually, she would be waiting for him on the couch, binge-watching a random show like New Girl or Girlfriends. However, as he walked further into the apartment and looked toward the couch, a pout fell upon his face at her absence.

Dave searched the apartment until he entered your shared bedroom. His eyes fell upon a lump of fluffy pillows on top of your shared bed. A small smile formed upon his face and he let out a breathy laugh.

“H-hey!” His voice is cheery as he walks to flop on top of the large mattress. He reaches a hand out to pull the blanket open enough so he can see you, as soon as his eyes meet yours a small sense of worry washes over him.

You look tired and your forehead creases as if you were in pain and he can’t help but reach out and caress the side of your head lovingly.

“W-what’s wrong love bug?” Dave’s voice is soft and caring. You can hear the genuine concern in his voice which makes brightens your mood slightly.

“Cramps.” You mutter groggily and push the blankets off your face. “They hurt more than usual.” A small frown falls upon your face as you look into your boyfriend’s beautiful alluring eyes. His soft eyes and the sympathetic smile he’s giving you make you want to cry. Your emotions are everywhere and the pain in unbearable.

His brows furrowed as he looked at you. “Oh! Do you need anything? Do you need pads? Tampons? Diva cup? Chocolates? Midol? Heating pad? Water?! You have to stay hydrated ya know’?”

Dave’s rambling catches you off guard. His concern is so sweet and the way he’s talking and wanting to do anything to make your feel better.

“No, no.” You shake your head quickly. “I-I’m fine, I’m good..Actually-I think I ran out of pads..”

Dave stands from the bed hastily and grabs his wallet and keys. His glasses fall on the bridge of his nose and he nods and stumbles over slightly.

“I got it! I can like so do that! Right, right.” He nods and speaks loud enough for you to hear. He looks like a man on a mission as he quickly exits the room.

Dave returns after a second with an awkward look on his face, he walks over to you and gives you a quick kiss. “Sorry! I forgot, okay! I love you! I’ll be right back!”

You return the kiss happily. “I love you too!”

After about 30 minutes you can’t help but let concern consume your mind, Dave had been gone for so long and the store wasn’t that far from your shared apartment.

Meanwhile Dave was nervously pacing around the store trying to decide which size pad to get, he forgot to ask and he was far too embarrassed to call you and ask.

His cart is already filled with several of your favorite chocolates, your favorite savory snacks, ingredients to make your favorite comfort foods, teas, apple juices, Miodl, and a new stuffed animal to add to your collection.

He knew his budget was tight, his next pay check wasn’t coming till later in the afternoon. He had to think..maybe he could put back the snacks he had gotten for himself, so he shrugged it off and did! He got you five different sizes and overnight pads and shoved them all into the cart.

He let out a small huff and double-checked everything in the cart and nodded to himself, giving himself a mental pat on the back-a small proud smile on his face.

Dave hesitated for a second, he was trying to decide whether he should go check out through the self checkout or the register. He ultimately decided to choose the register seeing as there was barely any lines and it was faster.

Dave knew you got worried when he was out too long, he started piling everything on to the conveyer belt and look up at the cashier who’s eyes widened at the sight of all the pads and goodies.

Dave only offered an awkward smile and payed once everything was scanned. He bagged it up and quickly headed off to the house, jogging slightly. Dave’s face was filled with a bright smile at the thought of seeing your face and the excitement on it! He could already imagine how happy you’d be!

As he arrived home and carried the bags inside he became alarmed when he heard sobs from the bedroom, he quickly walked over to see you cuddled up with your pet cat, Marylin- a small cat with splotches of white, black, and ginger fur.

Dave looked towards you with concern and then pause when he looked up at the TV and realized you were watching Shameless. He turned back towards you and paused, Oh Brother! He thought to himself.

“Hey-Hey, bug w-what’s wrong?” Dave treated lightly, knowing he had to watch what he says or else he’d probably make it worse.

Dave watches as you sniffle and wipe your eyes. “Fiona raised them to the best of her ability-she was just a kid a-and Monica just thinks she can come in and take that from her. It’s just so sad-“

Dave nods and watches as your cat nuzzles against you. He carefully sits down on the bed and caress the side of your face and kisses your cheek. “Yeah-yeah it is upsetting bug-But it’s okay, alright? I got you something it might make you feel better? Wanna see it?”

Dave pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiles softly. He reaches into the bag and pulls out a medium sized duck stuffy with snorkeling gear on. Dave’s smile widens as he watches your lips curve up into a small smile.

“Davie..You got this for me? Thank you! I love it he’s so cute! Thank you!” You can’t help but pull him in for a kiss and smile at him with nothing but love behind your eyes. You could’ve sworn your pupils were probably the size of buttons right now.

“Oh! I got you your favorite apple juice.”

Dave shrugs like it wasn’t a big deal and smiles up at you.

“Ya know t-the one in the glass bottle?-Oh! Also got you chocolates and chips and some tea, heard that helps with cramps-“

He pulls out a bottle of Midol and shakes it. “More meds for cramps!”

The shaking of the bottle catches Marylin’s attention, she jumps forward trying to pounce on Dave’s hand and completely misses landing on the plushy pink carpet of your bedroom floor. She meows dramatically and exits the room in a stealthy manner.

You let out a small snort, what a drama queen she is. You turn your attention back to Dave and smile at him. He’s the best boyfriend ever and you can’t even fathom how you managed to snatch him up.

“Oh! I-I um I got you pads..I didn’t know what size you were so I got-I got them all-all the sizes..” A blush coats his cheeks. He look up at you embarrassed, his eyes widen as he watches your own eyes water and notices tears streaming down your cheeks, he panicked.

“What’s wrong?! Did I get the wrong sizes? The wrong snacks?! I can go back to the store right now!” He moves to get up but is stopped when you quickly grab his arm and pull him back into the bed with you.

“No nothings wrong! You’re just s-so sweet! You’re so sweet Dave! This is like the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Your voice cracks and he let out a breath of relief and nods.

“Thank you, this so so sweet..really this is amazing!”

“You don’t have to thank me-i’m just doing what any boyfriend would.” Dave shrugs and pulls you in for a kiss.

You pull away with a dorky smile on your face.

“Also I bought some stuff to make some pasta-“

“If you don’t stop i’m going to cry again-oh my god.” You fan your face with your hands to try and calm down. He’s literally the sweetest man on earth and he’s your boyfriend!

[gffa]

Usually, I like to finish reading a fic before recommending it properly, but I've been sucked into about five different STAR WARS fics recently that I've gotten far enough into that I'm willing to trust my heart to them because they're scratching a very specific itch for me--namely, that I want deeper explorations of both the Jedi Order and of Anakin's character. I want fic to punch me in the feelings over both of these aspects of the story. I want fic to sometimes set Obi-Wan and Anakin aside and focus on Ahsoka for awhile, really tell her story. I want Jedi themes woven into a story. I want an exploration of Anakin's mindset that reminds me of just how much I love him and have sympathy for him. And fandom has delivered for me.

DO YOU WANT FIC TO BLACK OUT TO AND LOSE AN ENTIRE WEEKEND OVER? HAVE I GOT SOME RECS FOR YOU:

✦ Out with Lanterns by SkyeBean, ahsoka & mace & jedi & clones & cast, 312.5k     In another universe, Jedi Masters Plo Koon and Depa Billaba decide a Padawan could do Mace some good. It takes a while, but he eventually agrees. When he takes Ahsoka Tano as his Padawan, Mace knows that he's broken through a Shatterpoint and changed the course of a life. How, he doesn't know.     This fic accomplishes several things that have sent me over the moon: 1) At its heart, it's an Ahsoka fic that shows her growing up as a Padawan, going on missions, learning lessons, and having character growth. 2) It weaves in so many other characters around her, that Mace is there in almost every chapter, serious but warm in the Force, just as beautifully characterized as she is. 3) The other Jedi get their moments of excellents, Shaak taking Ahsoka on her Akul hunt was wonder to read, seeing Obi-Wan show up for a chapter had me over the moon, Adi taking care with Ahsoka was lovely, Depa was a shining star when she took Ahsoka under her wing, Fox growing used to these strange Jedi and growing into himself through Ahsoka's eyes was wonderful. 4) The writing is that kind of solid that I don't mean as mid-tier, but the kind that I feel like can bear weight on it, I can pick it up and read for 30k and barely realize any time has passed, despite that I've gotten through an entire arc of the fic. 5) It does an incredible job of balancing that feel of The Clone Wars show, without directly copying anything, that it's like these are arcs that I could have seen on the show itself, the lessons woven in, but still with enough plot moving forward and action to make it exciting. If you want more Jedi-centric fic in your life (where they don't have to be perfect! sometimes they can be less than perfect and it's okay because they're still good! ohhhh, my heart warmed at that) or you want to read a lovely Ahsoka-centric fic in a different life, but still so recognizably herself, then this is one I want to shove right in your face immediately.

✦ Take it from the top and try again by mauvera, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 116.k wip     Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. Should be relatively easy. Right?     I got sucked into the first fic in this series (which is complete, if you want to read it--it's not the end of the story, but it's a good stopping point and feels like it should have some solid resolution if you don't want to get into a wip) and read the first fic over the course of about three days because I was sucked in so thoroughly. I can never get enough of Obi-Wan time traveling back to the past, where he loves the Jedi and they love him, and I love this one because he has to make genuine plans for changing things--things change and I have no idea how that's going to affect Palpatine's machinations! Exciting! But it's also a lovely look at Obi-Wan's dynamics with multiple characters--I found the Obi-Wan & Padme scenes a hightlight personally, their friendship really blossomed as they both flung themselves into trying to better the galaxy, even if she doesn't know he's from the future, that he's working so hard matched a lot of her energy and I really enjoyed that--from Qui-Gon to Mace to Padme to Anakin and, as the sequel progresses, Dooku as well. It's another Jedi-positive fic, it has me invested in the plot, it's a joy to see competent!Obi-Wan, and I would love to shove it at more people.

✦ Post Order 66 Exile AU by Livsy, obi-wan & anakin, 46k (wip-esque)     After a failed order 66, in which many Jedi still died but the Sith were defeated, an exiled warrior and a boy wander a distant planet and attempt to get along.     This is probably the shortest fic on this list but I'm including it because it genuinely felt longer than that, for how dense the emotional intensity of it is. It's an AU where the Jedi barely eked out a victory, still on the edge of extinction in many ways, and Anakin deep in the pits of the dark side, so Obi-Wan takes him to a backwater planet in exile for the both of them, traveling through the countryside and just trying to make it from day to day. What punched me right in the feelings place is that this fic doesn't shy away from the hurt and the anger on both sides, that both of them are allowed to be unreliable narrators that have their own points of view on what's transpired and what lays between them. It doesn't back away from the hurt they both feel, the despair they both feel, yet there's hope here. It's ultimately a story about clawing yourself back from the dark side, and it's beautifully characterized for both of them, that unkind things are said on both of their parts, but you understand why the characters are in the place they are. It's wrapped up in a lushly written backdrop, with some lovely Japanese feudal era details woven in, but also with a Star Wars patina spread across all of it. It's not necessarily a kind fic, but if you like fic that bites down on a wound, I enjoyed this series a lot and would love to see it continued--but, honestly, what's here is already enough resolution that, looking back on it after the initial "Noooooo, I need more!" feeling has faded, I'm actually very satisfied with. ✦ Men of Power by AlabasterInk, obi-wan & anakin & mace & yoda & jedi & palpatine & cast, 86.1k wip     When an old powerful man suddenly comes in and sweeps your underage Padawan away without so much as a by your leave, that’s the time to start asking questions.     I'm only about 20k into this fic, so I can't say what shape it will take later on or how much pairings might come into it, but I still had to come running over to shove this fic at people, because it's scratching the itch I have for Jedi-positive fic that explores the idea of Anakin's trauma from his childhood as a slave, that this is a child who is wound so tight and comes from such a horrible thing having been done to him, having been owned as a person, that I understand why he stays silent on some of the things I desperately wish he could talk about or he doesn't really believe some of the things the Jedi tell him. It's a fic that takes a lot more care with Anakin's character than I think canon ever intended, weaving in a lot of the heartbreaking stuff from Legends' supplementing the canon, and is creating something that punches me right in the feelings place for him, that he's such a bright, brilliant boy, but I see why he struggled and it's not about assigning blame in any direction. It's about deeply caring people who fate has take a few steps to the left and something shifts just a little--and I appreciate that there's something very delicate feeling here, that the Jedi just don't have any real reason to be suspicious of Palpatine, his actions make sense, they genuinely can't feel any ill intention from him in the Force, they discuss why it would make sense that he'd want to support Anakin, all while we the readers can see, in hindsight, where the shadows have been creeping in. If you want Jedi-positive fic that also leaves some teeth marks over Anakin's trauma being explored in a way that is entirely sympathetic to him, then I want to shove this fic at you, too.

[selarina]

Tracing Scars

→ Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k words

Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, megumi mentioned, canon-divergence, smut, oral sex(m!receiving), shower sex, choking Minors DNI

Read on AO3

The first time you see your boyfriend crying, you feel uneasy. You want to leave and never come back to this house again, but you stay. You sit down next to him even as he pushes and grunts himself away from your touch. You sit down on the dirty floor and you stare at the wall in front of you.

It takes an hour or maybe two, you haven’t been keeping track. For all you know you spent a whole day here. But he finally slithers his way over to you to seat himself next to you. You don’t look at him but you feel the warmth of his shadow against your own.

You don’t speak and neither does he but you know. You know this has to do with his old life.

He never speaks of it and you’ve never cared for it. Not truly. Not when that allows you to not talk about your old life.

It’s been so nice, you just worry now — now that his tears have dried up, if he’ll want to go back to that life.

From what limited information you have — it had been rough for him. The remnants of the scars you trace your hand over, the calloused rough hands that hold your cheek, the hallow part of his heart you can never seem to fill. It’s evidence enough.

“Toji,” your words come out hushed. It’s only loud enough to reach his ears.

“Yeah,” he speaks up, his voice hoarse and broken. Broken in different way from all the times you’ve heard him talk.

“What’s wrong?” you say.

He doesn’t say anything, and you expected as much.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you continue. “I can come back when you’re ready. I can leave.”

“Don’t,” his word is immediate, and it’s firm. But mostly, you think it’s scared. Even through the deep baritone of his voice, you can feel it.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll stay. You can talk about it if you want.”

He doesn’t say anything again and you find that it doesn’t frustrate you. Maybe it should but it never does.

“I’ll stay even if you don’t want to talk,” you say, hoping that’s enough.

He doesn’t say anything again, but his hand reaches for yours and you spend a good few minutes just playing with them. Tracing soft patterns and letters as he sits rigidly next to you. With every trace, however, he softens.

Melting, and melting until you notice that his shoulder is hunched over, just a little.

You smile, and the room goes quite again but it doesn't last long this time.

“I saw my son,” he speaks up, and your smile fades its away.

“You did?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “I saw him. He’s grown now.”

“Yeah?” you ask. “How does he look?”

“Like a scrawny little thing. He looks like he eats nothing. He looks weak,” he tells you. “But you know the strangest thing happened — he started beating the shit out of this other kid. Big guy, muscles and all. And then another after another. They all fell to the ground, crying for their mothers,” he says, almost proud.

“Like father, like son. I guess,” you say with a soft chuckle.

“Yeah,” he says, and you sense some pride in his word. “Maybe he’s eating well then.”

“I’m sure he is,” you smile. Your hand encloses around his, as if to whisk him away you pull and he lets you, and that’s when you know — it’s time. “Let’s go take a bath.”

—

Not a minute later, you were walking into the bathroom just outside his bedroom. Inside, he glanced at himself in the mirror. His hand card through his dark hair.

"Do you want me to get a haircut?" he asked.

You smiled and shook your head. "Not yet. I like your hair like this. Do you like it?"

"I like what you like," he says nonchalantly as he swiped aside the shower curtains. He leaned over the tub, to turn the the water on, and switched it quickly over to the shower head.

The water usually takes a while to heat up so the two of you just wait.

"You want me to stay over today?" you ask. "I brought my car so I'll be fine going back late."

"You should stay," he says. "If you're not busy."

"Well, I have work but I'll set an alarm and close the door on my way out."

He nods, as he pulls his tshirt over his head, throwing it in the laundry chute that was next to the sink.

"I forgot my toothbrush at home," you say all too suddenly.

"I have the one you used last time," he nods towards the the second toothbrush placed in a stand. "Forgot to throw it out."

You don't respond instead you just pull your top over as well.

Your hand reaches out, placing itself under the shower head, feeling the water. Immediately, you drew it back.

"It's hot now," you say.

He hums, his hand reaching for your hips and you almost yelp at the touch of his cold hands.

"Your hands are cold," you say.

"Yeah?" he asks, as his move up to your bra strap.

"Yeah," you say as he undoes the clip. You discard your bra as you turn to face him.

You reach over to meet his lips for a kiss. The kiss — it's slow and steady but as most things with Toji go, it turns into rough and desperate venture instead.

His hands grab your hips, as he kept kissing you. He gives your lips a tug before he starts sucking them. His hands move from your hips to your ass, reaching down, reaching underneath your underwear to give them a squeeze as he continued to place kisses all over your lips, all over your neck.

And finally, after it felt like the two of you had been kissing for a millennia, you manage to pull away from his greedy lips, as you lower your knees down to the cold tiled floor.

Your hand make quick work, to reach under his sweatpants and his boxers, and it doesn't take long for you to find his cock hovering just a few centimeters away from your face.

He smacks the plump of your cheek with his cock, leaving it stained. In response, you rub the skin of your cheek is soft against him, not unlike a cat.

He groans, and your hand moves to hold him at the base as you start stroking his length. Both your hands continue stroking in opposite directions, so that every centimeter of him is within your touch.

You open your mouth wide and let the tip of cock sit on your tongue, before you begin to trace your tongue up and down, as his hands come up, over your head, to pull you in, urging you to do more.

And so you do, with the push of his hand, you move yourself forward, your throat swallowing up the full length of him.

And then, he thrusts further up, managing to choke you on the bare centimeters left of his cock. A few hard pumps, and then his cum spurted down your throat as you made quick work to wait and swallow it all whole.

"Come on," his hand reaches down to you. You take it and stand up. He urges you to jump. He walks inside, stepping beneath the shower head as he turns it on.

He toggles with the setting with one hand, making sure it's not too hot, or too cold, as you stay steady in the hold of his other hand. You don't move much, but you do leave soft kisses, leaving a mark every now and then on the slope of his neck.

It doesn't take long for the shower to reach a suitable amount of hot, and just after, you find your legs reaching to wound themselves tighter around his waist, as his cock makes its way into your pussy.

Your hips meet with a loud smack, cock pressed up and into your stomach. He is rough as he pulls out, and he's rough when his glides back in. Your legs dig deeper into his back at that, they tighten as if to keep him there with you like this all the time.

He reaches for your mouth, soaking up your cries and your growing moans. And it hasn't been too long, but Toji isn't surprised that he's coming already. He feels a certain softness for you today. You generally bring it out of him but today your arms tighten and your face crunches in pleasure, he starts thinking about a life with you. A new one, a brand new one, not this temporary state of limbo he's in. He thinks about a stupid picket fence house, not that you'd want that. You'd probably want something eclectic and strange, and so, his vision changes. He imagines a slew of strange items and trash. Trash he would willingly build a shelf for.

He groans at the thought of it all.

"Toji, I wanna cum," you moan into your words, into his neck.

"Yeah? You wanna cum?” Toji grits out, as he pushes you up against the wall behind you. You don't get time to feel the coldness of the tiles, it lasts for a moment, before the sensation of him inside you comes to the forefront once again.

"Yeah," you say. "Make me cum."

His hands reach up to your throat, he doesn't press on it, he simply keeps it there for a moment before finally, he begins to squeeze. You ease your mind into the sensation of being choked and help like this. And soon, your brain starts to slacken just little by little, until all you can see and feel is him — his hands, and his cock.

His hands looosen, as they come back up to support you by the waist, easing you up and down his cock as you feel the sensation of the slew of air reaching into throat.

“Cum for me, baby,” Toji groans, his lips up close to your neck.

And so, you do. Your cunt pulses and clenches before he pulls out. The white essence reaching the tiles below before the make its way into the drain.

You reach up, still drained from the orgasm but wanting to kiss him. Your lips meet in a tired kiss.

You pull away, patting his shoulder with no force in particular. "Let's actually take a bath now," you chuckle.

[hana-no-seiiki]

☁️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ FIVE STAGES OF YANDERE ࿐: IDOL EDITION

“ 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐃. “

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere! idol! oc (jisoo han) x superfan/manager! reader

✧ tw/cw: yandere themes, reader is also yandere at the start, mentions of anxiety and self harm, honestly idol life is its own tw

HAPPY HANA NO SEIIKI ANNIVERSARY YA’LL!!

[ series masterlist ]

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE ONE. ✧ DENIAL

“Oh gosh (oh gosh) this is so crazy. I’ve fallen in love again.

I trip so easily.

Adore new things, they sparkle.”

“Why are you so obsessed with him?”

“Dunno, just am.”

Your entire life revolved around Yesterday’s Dawn’s ace, Eve. The idol who had been in everyone’s lips. Whose name had been heard throughout nations you’ve never even heard of.

He was your sun, the reason you had the energy to wake up every single day, the light of your life.

Every waking moment you spent it either thinking of him or offering your services for name.

It was normal for you to spend hours looking at his schedule, knowing where he was, being around him most times, or staring at media of him.

Somehow, you were able to land a job as his manager.

You were finally closer to your god.

But you swiftly find out that no man should be likened to one for only disappointment can be found in such a path.

Eve was a lot more . . . burnt out than you expected. A lot less passionate and energetic than he was in camera if not irritable.

It was normal for him to harass workers when they didn’t meet a standard he imposed, as such, after the first few weeks of your employment everyone that you were with have already been fired, quit, and/or paid to keep their silence on the matter.

Yet your feelings for him only stayed; as your employment with the company. Your meticulous and proactive nature as a fan site owner allowed you to take much of the workload he threw at you.

The little admiration you have left for the man kept you standing.

And if only you were a little less stressed you’d notice his scarlet eyes providing stares of amusement, bewilderment, and growing affection.

You never complained (at least, in a place where he could hear you).

Whenever he asked for impossible items or schedules you’ll simply grin and work things out in your little way.

You adjusted to his turbulent temperament as quickly as an experienced pilot in a stormy sky, a sailor of uncharted, dangerous waters.

You were brilliant. Reminiscent of his times as a trainee.

Bit by bit he started lessening your workload. Allowing you to rest. Hell, even giving you his coffee if he didn’t want it. He never gives away his coffee.

You acquiesced to many of his whims but were never a pushover. Always doing your job perfectly. Keeping him in line.

He would have fallen for you already, had he not been in love with someone else.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE TWO. ✧ ANGER

“Peek-a-boo! It’s only love when my heart quivers.

All my friends yell at me, they say I have a problem.

I’m fine fine fine fine fine fine!”

“ For this comeback period, [L/N] will be assigned to Hayate instead. Eve will have his senior’s manager work with him instead.”

“Understood.”

You were assigned to another member around Spring.

Yesterday Dawn’s most hectic time of the year aside from fall as the group’s concept was as the name suggested, focused more on nostalgia and times of youth.

You were relieved.

You never thought you would have been able to say that after being separated from Eve, but now it was the only thing you had on your mind.

No more late night calls about wanting coffee but throwing the leftovers at you the moment he was sick of the taste, no more work being thrown at you and taken away at random moments, no more working around his schedule so that he’ll have time to meet that dear senior of his in private.

You were free.

Hayate was known to be the harsher one in the fandom, but much like Eve his image was a bit different from his actual self.

Sure he was demanding, but he was fair. He wasn’t controlled by whims and impulse. You were finally able to do your job properly til the end, and you didn’t always feel a judging stare from him like Jisoo would always throw at you.

You were finally able to smile.

However, you see, being a manager for another member did not mean you would completely be free of your original client.

Hayate and Eve worked quite closely, and as such, you’d often help with Jisoo’s requests even if you weren’t obligated to.

Eve immediately saw the change in you.

You were, a lot more bright. Less haggard. Your voice less hoarse. Relaxed.

You were already getting along better with his group member than you ever did with him.

Eve wasn’t really the type to show his anger actively. He was always more, passive.

The senior he was head over heels for was slowly forgotten as he’d spent countless of hours pouring his feelings into his music. What was supposed to be a bittersweet spring album turned out to be one of sour regret and frustration.

Of course, it was still a hit. It even scored him a collaboration with the senior he oh so wanted to have their eyes on him. But all he could think of as he went to bed early in the morning was the way you’d laugh whenever Hayate spoke to you.

Hmph, the guy wasn’t even funny.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE THREE. ✧ BARGAINING

“Hey you, do you wanna play a game? I already know what you want.

Close your eyes and count to 10. Don’t matter anyways

Cause I am going to find you.”

“Did you hear? Jisoo got his first scandal. Apparently he bullied a bunch of students during high-school.”

“Wasn’t he . . . homeschooled?”

Causing scandals was easy. Dealing with scandals was not.

All Eve had to do was talk to some people, had a few pictures edited and voila, chaos.

It was amusing really, his company superiors would ply him with reassurances and sweet words; telling him that everything will be fine and dealt with while his pr managers dropped down like flies trying to prevent the flames of hatred from spreading too far.

All of them, hopelessly unaware.

All but his stupid senior.

“Why are you doing this now, Ji?”

They always looked down at him almost. Like he was a petulant child that needed to be coddled or scolded depending on their mood.

“We should focus on the track.”

And like he expected, you were brought right back to him. As you should be.

The heads figured out that you were the only one capable of handling the shitstorm without falling into the hands of alcohol or other substances in grief.

And as they expected you did.

After all, you had a timeline of his entire life in a canva document. Even if it was only mentioned once in a concert interview before they went famous. You were an Eve superfan.

All you did was confirm the fact that Jisoo got homeschooled by contacting his parents and teachers, and the rest was easy. You even reactivated your fansite for such an occasion.

If only you hadn’t.

Maybe then Jisoo wouldn’t have a definite reason to pursue you.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE FOUR. ✧ DEPRESSION

“You’ll never get this concept, you might as well forget it

Just play again, bet it all, roll the dice

BLANCA”

Eve thought he was doing well in terms of romancing you.

Ever since he found out about your fansite instead of feeling disgust and horror he felt . . . great, amazing even. A high the stage could never give him.

Of course, you two were destined.

It was only his duty to protect you as your partner, to spoil you, dote on you.

Even if you don’t realize your intertwined fates yet.

. . .

Eve always hovered over you.

Usually managers took shifts with watching over the idols. Half of your time was supposed to be spent planning rather than overseeing his activities.

Yet you seemed to have a never ending babysitting responsibility.

Your past self would have committed several war crimes for the sake of this opportunity. But after a year or so under his ‘care’ you found yourself slowly veering off into the type of insanity you didn’t like falling in.

You felt a bit like Andy from the original Devil Wears Prada book, only that your resentment simmered slowly. Forming into a hideous red sludge of exasperation whenever he randomly wanted to take a vacation. Forcing only you to come with him. Which meant an even bigger workload, and even more people to talk to for flights, schedule conflicts, reservations and all that.

You snapped.

It was a calm afternoon.

The sun was burning you alive as Eve insisted you two would go on a ‘beach date’ for some summer fun.

He shoved a drink in your hand.

And you just broke down.

Tears fell from your eyes, your breath shallow.

You asked him if this amused him. If your suffering was funny to him. If making you fall over just to get his demands on time made him feel fulfilled as a person.

And before he could answer you ran.

A week after that your schedule was finally normal.

Eve kept his distance. Not just from you but from everyone.

You knew of his anxiety attacks and depression before. But seeing those up close and personal scared you.

Things only get worse from here.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE FIVE. ✧ ACCEPTANCE

“So it’s too late you’re in the game now. If you keep up might not lose it.

The jungle gym of fun, like hell yeah

Makin the moon fall down down down.”

Eve spent most of his ‘hiatus’ watching your posts of him. Edits, fanfictions, photography, fancams.

Of course, it wasn’t to see himself perform again. He already did that on a regular basis to make sure he kept himself up to the standards of an idol.

It was to see your captions.

Your fanatic raving made him feel . . . loved.

Your previous thoughts on his performances made him feel complete. Like he found a missing piece of a puzzle he kept trying to put something else to fill it in.

Another part of his hiatus was spent preparing for his graduation. The termination of his contract.

It was clear you didn’t love him as an idol anymore. It was his fault really. He couldn’t see how he was hurting you with his work and desires.

If there was another thing he can thank his idol work for was the amount of money he had saved.

Now, he had a new home built far away from civilization. It was completely soundproof. The bed he ordered was custom made, tailored to your preferences this time rather than his. Food stocked to the nines. A few instruments here and there so he could compose even while retired.

He can always make a new song, a new life for you two to enjoy together.

“My voice, my body, my soul. It had always been yours. I just didn’t realize it.”

✧ [AUTHOR’S NOTE]:

For more EVE content check out the #hns.eve tag 🩵

Lyrics are a mix of translations from the og song and Mitch Joseph’s cover.

OFFICIAL EVE CHARACTER AI

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

just a girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.

Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

It isn't your proudest moment. You don't have many of those. There is little remarkable about, nothing of note, nothing admirable. You might stand a bit taller than most but it's rarely given as a good thing. 

You never expected much of life. You resigned yourself to living in the shadows. In particular, you knew you would always bet outshone by your sister's light. You can't hate her for it; it's your own shortcoming. Besides, no one can hate Riannon, she's just that nice. 

You are dark smear on the family name. It's why you didn't even think to ask your parents for help. You didn't even ask your sister, she offered, insisted really. You could never deny her and in this instant, you couldn't afford any other option. 

It’s just for a while, you keep telling yourself. You’ll find a new job and a place soon. For now, you’ll just stay out of the way. It isn’t very hard; you take up much more room than your few possessions. 

You keep yourself holed in the guestroom as you settle into your second day. You have your laptop on your thighs as you scroll the job boards. You have the experience but you expect your reference would be any good. You didn’t exactly end on cordial terms. Starting from square one, though the industry isn’t exactly even ground for men and women alike. 

You hunker down to search through the various postings within your purview. Every classification is ticked off, even the years, it’s just that little note about contacting your previous employers that makes you nervous. Well, you at least have to try. 

A knock comes at the door as you edit your cover letter once again. You sit up and close the computer. You slide it aside and get up. You cross the room and crack the door open. You sister smiles from the other side. 

“Am I making too much noise?” You ask as your music plays music from its tiny speaker. 

“No, no, not at all. Um, so you know Andy is out of town for the day so it’s just us,” she rocks, “and there’s a barbecue down the street so... I thought you could get to know the neighbourhood.” 

You look down at her, the offer catching you off guard. You were prepared to spend the whole day hidden away and poring over job listings. Even when you had your own place, you tended to spend most of your own time inside. 

Still, she is doing you a huge favour and it would be rude to say no. You shrug, “okay.” 

“Great, I have some potato salad I'm bringing,” she chirps.  

“Uh,” you look at her blue checkered capris and pristine white blouse, “should I change?” 

“It’s up to you. I'm just going to get packed up. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” 

Her excitement is palpable. She probably expected you to say no. You don’t want to let her down again. You’re tired of that feeling. 

You close the door as she bounces away and you retreat to search through your still unpacked suitcase. Your clothes hang over the sides. You pick out a band shirt and a pair of dark grey jeans. You don’t have any shorts and you know your repertoire of dark colours only draws in the sun’s fury, and like of the vaunted HOA, but you don’t have many options. 

You emerge with a pair of converse in hand and head into the kitchen. Rhiannon snaps the lid onto a big bowl as she beams up at you. You don’t understand how you share the same blood, she’s so different than you. Where you’re tall and gangly, she’s small and dainty; where your dour and reticent, she’s bright and bubbly. Your parents even kidded that you must’ve been switched at the hospital. 

“Ready?” She asks. 

You nod and look down at yourself. 

“If you want to borrow a skirt or something, it’s pretty hot out.” 

“It’s fine.” 

You don’t take her offer as any comment on your choice, only genuine concern. If it was your mom, you would know it was more than that. To be fair, your mother is very direct with her critiques. Besides, even if her clothes would fit you, you don’t want to risk ruining any of her things. 

“Alrighty, well, Marge will kill me if I’m late again,” she sings and sweeps around with the bowl. “It’ll be nice to get out, huh?” 

“Mhmm,” you grumble and follow her down the hall to the front door. 

She steps into her wedged sandals as you sit to pull on your converse and lace them up. You stand and get the door for her as she prances towards it. She thanks you and you trail her out. The sun hits you like fire. It’s so hot, though you think some of the heat comes from your own self-consciousness. 

As you catch up to your sister at the bottom of the steps, you slow down to keep from outpacing her shorter legs. Even with her platformed soles, she’s still ahead shorter than you. You turn down the sidewalk as you shy away from the strange faces headed in the same direction. 

“You want me to carry that?” You offer. 

“Hey, I might be small but I can handle a salad,” she chirps. 

“I know, I wasn’t--” 

“I’m teasing. It’s fine, I got it,” she assures you as she hugs the bowl to her stomach, “I just want you to have a good day. Don’t think about everything else, okay?” 

“Mm, okay,” you keep your head down as you slink next to her jouncing steps, “sorry, I'll try not to be too grim.” 

“Whatever, you’re awesome,” she nudges you with her elbow, “you just be yourself and I know you’ll find some good friends around here.” 

You try to smile but it hurts. She always sees the best in others, even when it’s not there. You keep pace with her and turn up another curated lawn. The walk is perfectly laid and the blossom tree sways overhead. 

Rhiannon is welcomed through the open gate by one of those blonde women she has her book club with and you shuffle in with your hands in your pockets. You feel the woman’s harsh gaze and peek up. She looks at you the same way your mother does. Her name is Marge and her friend is Callie and there are dozens of the Stepford-like figures posted throughout the yard. 

“Come, let’s put your salad out,” Marge insists. 

Rhiannon looks at you and you chew your cheek, “go, I'll be fine.” 

She looks reluctant but you’re already walking away. You ignore the smell of sausage and beef rising from the barbeque and the splash and laughter of children from the pool. You aren’t going to find any friends here. That much is clear. Housewives and little kids, you don’t really fit the bill. 

You find your way to the far end of the lawn and stand by a tree you might just blend into. Or maybe you might bury yourself in the rose bushes. You pull your hands from your pockets and hook your fingers into your belt loops, swaying as you watch a bumble bee hover over the grass. 

“Foo Fighters, huh?” A low drawl brings your head up as a man approaches with a beer bottle in hand. 

“Um, yeah,” you look down at your shirt, tugging on the hem. 

“You go to a show?” He asks as he stops near you, drinking from the bottle as he waits for your answer. 

“Never been to one,” you cross your arms, “but I listen to them.” 

“Ah, yeah, well, they put on a hell of a show,” he wiggles the bottle as he talks, “lot more fun than these things.” 

You look up the yard towards the mingling of voices and sound. Despite your efforts to hide in a corner, you must have stuck out like a sore thumb. Shoot, maybe he thinks you’re trespassing. 

“I came with my sister,” you point and shift towards the party, “sorry, um, Rhiannon. I didn’t... I was just looking at the roses.” 

“Not my party,” he scoffs, “I don’t care.” 

“Oh,” you blink and look at him. He's about your height, dark curly hair, and vibrant blue eyes. His dark beard is thick and stubble prickles along his neck. He wears a plain white shirt and jeans; the bare minimum. “Right, er, well...” 

“Not a bad idea, hiding behind a tree,” he remarks, “but you're missing the key ingredient.” 

He stops and stares, crooking a brow as if you should know what he means. 

“Alcohol,” he raises his bottle, “they got a keg even. Probably the only good part about these bull—these things.” 

“I don’t drink,” you mutter, “but thanks.” 

You put your head down and stare at the grass around his shoes. You don’t know why he’s bothering you if it isn’t to make you leave. Obviously, you don’t belong. 

“Never too late to start,” he snorts and stays as he is. 

You don’t know how to make him leave you alone so you say nothing. The bee dips into a tulip’s mouth and you turn to watch it. Maybe he’ll take your silence as a hint. 

[sukunasweetheart]

Can I please request Sukuna and reader picking up their child from preschool? It can be anything, fluff or angst, its up to you!

Love your work and keep it up <33

thank you for requesting and i'm so very sorry that this took a billion years to complete... i just now finally thought of an intriguing way to do this request <3

some warnings: fem!reader, major character death, ooc sukuna, major angst, modern AU, sukuna and reader have a daughter

good things never really last.

well, at least that's what sukuna believed before he came across you. you and your delicate expressions and equally as delicate affection and warmth, which seemed to wrap around him constantly, even when he tried to avoid you at the beginning of all this, all because of his own uncertainty and his rather skeptical outlooks on the concept of love.

he's always been self-centered-- so the idea of his life becoming centered around anyone else but himself, frankly, scared him a little bit.

but, putting that aside...

a high pitched, overjoyed squeal rings out from inside the daycare centre, and a little girl comes running into your open arms, embracing you with the overflowing energy that little children always tend to have. you lift her up with ease, smiling as she giggles from the gesture.

"mommy!" she says, nuzzling her soft, tiny face against yours without much care for being gentle. someone else trails in from behind, feeling a little left out from this reunion.

"aren't you forgetting someone here, princess?"

sukuna also makes his entrance into the centre, walking towards the both of you. your tiny daughter gasps, and flails her arms out towards the big man.

"daddy!! you're here too?!"

"that i am, sweetheart. happy to see me?" he takes her away from you, holding her as gently as possible with his large hands.

"uh huh," she nods with enthusiasm.

"of course you do. my little girl."

the sukuna of the past would've never fathomed having a future like this, where he'd be handling a child of all things with such care. it's really different when they're your own flesh and blood. he's adored her like no one else. ah- well- no one else but you, that is.

he carries her to the car, while you take your daughter's bag from the daycare teacher, who waves you off with a couple of words of goodbye.

the ride home is nothing short of cosy and cheerful, with the happy singing of your little girl coming from the backseats, and the laughs from you as you listen to the way she mispronounces a lot of the words in the song. sukuna drives wordlessly, with a gentle smile on his face.

the skies happened to be so clear that day, with not a speck of a cloud being sighted within it.

some time after arriving home, you began to languidly start your work in the kitchen, preparing dinner that also turned out even better tasting than usual, that particular night. you always felt the happiest, when sukuna praised your cooking, especially as someone who you knew had very high standards when it came to food.

and miraculously, once dinner was all finished and your daughter was all dressed up ready for bedtime, she managed to fall asleep a lot faster than most evenings, leaving you and sukuna with quite a bit of...freetime.

you lay on the mattress under his sultry gaze, as he undresses you carefully as though he were unwrapping a present, trailing soft kisses down the side of your neck. you're as beautiful as the day he first met you. this was the most perfect end to the most perfect day in his life.

too perfect.

...

he should have been suspicious, with the way things were getting so blissful in his life-- his life that had previously been so rocky and turbulent.

was this supposed to be punishment for his sins? for all his arrogance and selfishness? the heavens decided to grace him with the feeling of genuine love and its reciprocation, only to then tear it away from his hands once he'd started to take it for granted.

...it was an unforeseen accident. could've happened to anybody. why did it have to be you?

good things never last.

sukuna drops the home phone immediately upon hearing the news, and hurriedly packs a small bag for his daughter. he drops her off to her friend's house, who is a long term neighbour of theirs. then makes a beeline towards the hospital, speeding past every red light that dared to try and stop him.

yet, that was all for naught, as by the time he'd arrived to your bed at the hospital, you had already taken your last breath, and said your final words. which he couldn't hear for himself.

'please tell them that i love them'. that was apparently all you tried to say. sukuna is made to sign some documents on your passing, and shortly after, they give him some time to spend with your lifeless body. he is then sent home.

he arrives to see some mail that had been slipped in through the front door. notifications of fines, for crossing red lights multiple times and going against speed limits. nothing but a reminder of his failure.

he tears the letters into pieces, and sits himself down on a chair, where he hangs his head in silence, without bothering to turn the lights on in the house.

and all of a sudden, he becomes so very busy, in the following weeks.

caring for his daughter alone. preparing for your funeral. accepting your death.

grief is such a strange, and horrible experience. all this love he has for you. where is it supposed to go now?

the night after your funeral, he's sitting alone at the dining table once again. he can't stand the bedroom. not when it's become only his now, and no longer yours as well. sukuna hasn't slept well in a while.

small footsteps resound against the floorboards, and he looks up to see his daughter standing meekly a distance away from him.

"what's wrong? had a bad dream?" he asks, with the most gentle voice he can muster in his current condition.

"...no. i just had a dream about mommy," she confesses tearfully.

"why can't she just come back? i miss her."

too young to understand the concept of death.

"oh, sweetheart... i miss her too."

she begins to cry, and he gets up to comfort her, as if the one needing the most comfort right now isn't himself.

they huddle and sleep together that night, in attempts to replicate your warmth. the warmth of a mother. and the warmth of a wife.

-

since then, a part of sukuna seemed to change back into his older self, where he cared less for others and remained disinterested in most things that life offered him. he decided not to care about anything or anyone, other than himself and of course, his darling daughter. your gift to him. the only thing keeping him grounded.

he never finds a new lover, nor does he harbour any desires to seek for one, despite the encouragement from others.

you keep appearing in his dreams every now and then. every night before bed, he hopes to see you again, and is disappointed in the mornings where he wakes up with the realisation that it didn't happen.

years and years pass, and while he ages like fine wine, so does his little girl, who becomes not so little anymore. they still share the best bond that a father and daughter could ever have.

but eventually, she finds her own path in life and leaves the house to pursue her own dreams, even getting married to start her own family.

though they still regularly contact each other, sukuna's abode becomes sorrowfully quiet without her presence around. though he's proud as a father, this solitude only deepens his longing for you, like the sensation of slowly sinking towards the bottom of the ocean floor.

good things never last.

though, it's not until a few more years later, that he passes away rather peacefully of old age.

his soul feels light and airy. he feels calm, despite being aware that he's passed on into the afterlife. the bodily discomforts of aging is non-existent in this place.

he's walking towards the bright light, where he assumes he's supposed to go, and realises that there's a figure standing towards the end of it. sukuna already knows who it is, and his walking begins to speed up.

and with each step, his time rewinds.

"look at you. still all pretty and pristine, unlike me with my abhorrent wrinkles," sukuna comments with a chuckle in his voice.

"what are you talking about? you're still as handsome as ever."

as you grab his hand, your touch shifts his appearance... and sukuna reverts back to the time when he glimmered the most vibrantly - the days before you died, the days of his brilliant twenties. he stares at his own hand, where the creases in his skin have disappeared completely.

rejoicing, he pulls you in for a tight embrace, as he can now feel your body against his.

"you did so well. our little girl grew up so beautifully," you tell him with your sweet voice, hands placed against his broad back.

"of course. she's none other than our daughter, after all," he replies with confidence, as he presses his face against the locks of your hair, enjoying your familiar scent.

your bright smile turns to something more sorrowful, and you step back a bit to come face-to-face with him.

"and... you never found someone else. you never remarried."

"because I never intended to look for another. You were the first and last," sukuna tells you matter-of-factly.

"wasn't it lonely?"

"...terribly. but you're here now, so it was worth enduring after all."

you laugh, and it sounds exactly the same as it did all those years before. the memories he had of you, the ones that he held onto so tightly as to not forget, until his very last breath.

"that makes me selfishly happy. i shouldn't be, for your sake, but I am."

"then why don't you give me a kiss? for all my hard effort."

he leans in, like how he'd always done whenever you appeared in his dreams at night.

except this time, your lips actually reach his, instead of disappearing away, like a fleeting memory.

good things may never last for long, but misfortune certainly doesn't last forever, either.

-fin-

Masterlist

[astarionancuntnin]

Undisclosed Desires (Chapter 2)

summary: its the day after you and astarion indulged in each other's embrace. it shouldve been a once done deal, nothing more, but that last night ended with you questioning your feelings for the pale elf. you struggle to come to terms with those and the day might prove more difficult as you get trapped alone with him in a secluded dungeon

or in short:

rating: E

word count: 4k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, sorceress tav)

cw: 18+. smut, porn with little-to-no plot, karlach gets hurt for the sake of the porn (shes doing her part o7), denial of feelings, sexual tension through the roof, dom!tav/reader, teasing, dry humping, begging, ear licking, vampire bites, kinda praise kink, sorta breeding kink, your honor- theyre both brat switches fighting to top the other.

a/n: at long last, chapter 2! i had so much fun with the dialogues, i hope you enjoy them as much as i did uwu. also, inspo song at the beginning is the same as chapter 1, but a different part of the song, and end of chapter song is a different one (that i linked at the end). let me know how you feel about the dynamic in this chapter 👀

Masterlist

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I shut my eyes

You call but I just cut the line

I know your style

I know that you want one more night

And I'm backsliding

Into this just one more time

-

You wake up this morning to the sound of your companions talking nearby. Instinctively, you reach for the spot next to you, only to find it empty. Figures. If it wasn’t for the aching pain in your muscles and the dizziness of your mind, you’d think what happened last night was just a dream.

The way Astarion had ravaged your body, how feral he was, the taste of him on your lips, how he felt between your legs…

Instinctively, you rub your thighs together, chasing the feeling from the previous night. You already feel that warmth between your legs as a result of those memories flooding back to you. You hear laughing outside your tent and it brings you back to the present moment ; your companions are probably waiting for you.

You quickly push aside any thoughts of him and reach for your clothes to get dressed up for the day. You take some time to prepare for what your companions have to say about the sounds that came from your tent last night. They had to have heard.

As you take your first step outside, Karlach is the first to greet you.

“Hey Soldier! Slept well? Doubt it was restful but it looks like you had the time of your life!” She nudges you.

“You can say that again! Those screams made me believe she was dying in there!” Shadowheart shouts, sitting near the campfire, before her and Karlach start laughing.

You feel yourself turn redder after each remark. Hells, I didn’t realize how loud I was.

“It did sound… intense. Are you sure you’re alright?” Wyll speaks up, more worried about you.

You lift your blushing face which was hiding in shame between your hands. “Oh, yeah no, I’m fine just- um,” you turn to Shadowheart, “Can I ask you to cast lesser restoration on me, please?”

She looks at you puzzled, “Can’t you cast it on yourself?”

“The only thing I wanna cast on myself at this very moment is eldritch blast, now, can you please cast the damn spell?”

“So much for the ‘great sorceress with limitless talents’,” she mocks you, reminding you of the very words you used back when you introduced yourself to her.

“SHADOW.”

“Fine, fine,” she scoots over the log, making space for you. “Come here, I’ll take care of you.”

You walk over to her and you sigh as you sit down, completely slouched over.

“Gods, he really did a number on you, huh,” she casts lesser restoration and you straighten up, instantly feeling much better. 

“Yeah, you should see the other guy,” you say, smiling, proud to have gained back your wits.

“Speaking of,” Wyll interjects. “We haven’t seen him all morning. We fully expected him to come out of your tent.”

“Huh, I did wake up alone,” you confess. “I just assumed he went back to his tent.”

“Heh! Maybe he’s still in there recuperating from your night together!” Karlach shouts, before laughing some more.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go check up on him,” you roll your eyes as you get up to walk towards his tent.

You’re glad it’s placed far enough from the campfire to be out of your friend’s sights. You didn’t want to give them more ideas if they saw you with the vampire this morning. You call out his name before opening the flap of his tent, only to reveal it to be empty. 

“Looking for something?”

You slightly jump, as if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t have, and quickly turn around to face him.

“Gods, you startled me.”

He walks towards you, shirtless, with his hair still damp from his morning bathing and his trousers hanging loosely around his hips.

“Terribly sorry dear, I would never do this to you intentionally.”

His little smile is unnerving. Your heartbeat quickens, and you frown at yourself; You can’t allow yourself to falter this early in the day. You take a deep breath, your way to gain back control over yourself. 

“We’re almost ready to leave, so I came looking for you,” you try to look elsewhere but you’re mesmerized by his sight.

“Well, here I am now. Can I… help you with something?”

He raises his hand and strokes your cheek gently with the back of it, his face dangerously getting near yours. You feel your face burning hotter and it takes everything in you to push yourself away from him.

“We should really go, just– get dressed. I’ll uh, I’ll wait for you around the campfire with the others.”

You turn around completely flustered and walk back to your companions.

“Again?!” Karlach exclaims as she sees the state you’re in. “At this rate, you’ll turn redder than me!”

You wanna crawl into the depths of the hells and never come back up.

—

Today’s quest brings you to a secluded dungeon. Your findings from the previous days led you there in search for more information about an artifact you previously found throughout your adventure. If you’re correct, you should find here what’s missing for it to work. Now the only thing left to do is actually finding that missing piece.

With a swift flick of his wrist, Astarion opens the door to the lower grounds. As the door opens, you’re greeted by damp air and a musty smell. The place is dusty and covered in spiderwebs. Whatever you’re looking for must be here judging by the fact that no one has been down here in ages. You all walk in and notice that the place is a damned maze filled with countless rooms. You split up from the group, starting the search on your own, and the first room you walk in greets you with an absurdly obvious trap. You sigh, discouraged, as you fall back against the wall next to the entrance. Guess I won’t be able to avoid him much longer.

“Astarion? A hand?!” Your voice echoes through the hallways, followed by the sound of his footsteps.

He makes his way towards you nonchalantly, “You called, dear?”

“Can you take care of this?” You point towards the device.

He leans over you, his arms caging you between him and the wall, “I could, if you were to ask nicely.” His face hovers dangerously close to you, you can feel his cold breaths ghosting over your lips. It would be so easy to just tilt your head up and close the gap… No, you can’t let him win this. Last night was just a mutual agreement. An exchange of sorts. Nothing more, nothing less.

You cross your arms over your chest, creating some distance between the two of you, “Don’t push your luck.”

“Oh well, I assume you know how to deal with such an intricate mechanism then, if you’re so much better than I am?”, he wears his typical shit-eating grin.

You roll your eyes and step over your pride, “Fine. Can you please disarm this trap so we can carry on?” 

“See? Now, was that so hard?” He gives you a playful look before getting to work.

You stand next to him as he fickles with the machinery when you hear a loud commotion from afar.

“FUCK!”

You recognize the voice from your fiery friend and waste no time running towards the source of her scream, only to find her in a terrible state with Shadowheart kneeling next to her. Her leg is barely recognizable. Whatever got her rendered her unable to fight from now on.

“What happened?!”

“Godsdamned trap got me, shit!” She keeps groaning in pain.

“Alright, Shadowheart, do you think you can take care of her wounds?”

“I can stabilize her, but she won’t be able to carry on with her injuries, we need to head back to camp as soon as possible so I can tend to her,” she explains.

“Okay, okay,” your eyes wander between your friends as you’re thinking of a solution. “Yeah, okay, you’re right, I’m not risking Karlach’s life on this,” the cleric nods in agreement, “But we can’t back track now. Who knows what else this trap triggered, it might’ve alarmed someone. We are so close to finding the answer, I can't risk letting it slip past us.”

Shadowheart raises as she’s about to argue but you cut her off, “Don’t worry, I still believe you two should head to the camp. Astarion and I will carry on.” You feel Shadowheart’s glare of disapproval. “I swear we’ll be careful and we’ll run back to you guys should we encounter a situation that's too much for us.” You try to reassure your friend.

“Oooooooo, keeping Fangs all to yourself?” Karlach never missed an opportunity to tease you, even when in insufferable pain. You could respect that.

“Oh please, if it were up to me, he would be the one in that trap.”

“Rude,” Astarion remarks from behind you. You can’t help the smirk creeping up on your face.

“Fine,” the half-elf frowns in resignation. “We’ll head back– but don’t do anything stupid.”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Astarion adds sarcastically, as the two walk away.

With half of your party gone, you lose no time continuing your research. You didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary with half the manpower in unknown territory. You pass a few halls and rooms, each containing an absurd amount of traps for what little they were hiding, slowly getting discouraged from your lack of findings, when you hear rumble afar.

You both still, listening to the sounds, when you realize they are making their way towards you. 

“Hide!”, you barely whisper.

Before he can react, you roughly drag Astarion with you in the next open room and slam the door behind you. You acted faster than you could think ; the sound of the door was loud and the footsteps are now getting faster and louder. You try to remain calm to avoid drawing any more attention than necessary when you see the expression change on your companion’s face, followed by him yelling.

“What in the sweet hells is wrong with–!”

You don’t give him time to finish his sentence as you push him against the stone wall by his waist with the force of your whole body, while your other hand covers his mouth. You stare intensely into his eyes and mouth a “shh”, as silent as you can, to convey the urgency for him to shut up as the rumble of the footsteps get even closer to your location. He blinks rapidly and nods, understanding your motion, but brings his hand up to remove yours from his mouth. You hear the footsteps stop nearby and your heart pounding in your chest as your breathing stills. Your eyes dart towards the door, anxiety building up in your chest. Anything could be outside. You cannot risk getting into a fight you couldn’t handle. Against his own good, Astarion speaks up yet again.

“Let’s just kill–”

And you shut him up, again. 

This time, with a kiss.

It’s a surprise to both of you. It was sudden, instinctive. You’re not sure what took over you, but at this moment, it seemed to be the best course of action. You stay motionless for a moment before pulling away, slowly. You hear the sounds outside your room getting further away and you finally breathe out in relief. He looks at you with an annoying smile painted over his face.

You notice him observing you. “You really need to learn when to shut up,” you say, a poor excuse to try and justify your actions, as a blush takes place over your cheeks.

His lidded eyes observe your lips before making eye contact again, “And you think you know better?”

“I know I do,” you frown slightly. 

He keeps smiling, that damn annoyingly confident smile. “I’m afraid you’ll have to teach me, then. I’ve been known to be awfully loud.”

You scoff. The audacity of this man.

Initially, that first kiss was never supposed to lead to anything else. It was spontaneous, a means to an end, just like your last night spent together. Anything to stop him from talking, whatever would save you from being found. But you couldn’t deny the feelings that fluttered in your stomach, the butterflies in your chest. 

He continues, his words dripping with sarcasm, “I’m sure a sorceress of your expertise must have some way to silence a noisy rogue like myself.”

You realize then : all along, you didn’t hate him, you hated the fact that you were attracted to him, to that damn attitude of his. Truth is, you couldn’t have enough of that banter between the two of you. Every morning, that was the thing you were looking forward to. There was no denying yourself anymore ; you chased the feeling of arguing with this overblown, pretentious asshole. You wanted him, in more ways than one, and in any way he would offer himself to you.

“I can think of a few tricks,” you lean over him the same way he did you earlier, your faces barely an inch apart.

“Try me,” his voice is barely a whisper by now.

You let your feelings guide your next move as you pull him in by the collar of his armor, crashing your lips against his. If he saw this as a game, you intended to win. As the kiss depends, you’re taken back to that scenario you played in your head the night before, prior to Astarion’s visit.

At the next corner, you would’ve pushed him by the waist against the nearest wall and shut his pretty mouth up. 

Your kiss started out rough, but it quickly became passionate, it engulfed both of you into a world of your own. His hands roamed up your back and down your waist, pulling you in closer, reaching for more contact. Your sorcerer robe allowed for you to feel how tightly he grabbed you and yet, it didn’t feel like enough. You wished for nothing more than having your skin being ravished by his touch.

You would’ve taken the chance to let one of your hands roam through his silky smooth, curly hair, pulling it enough to get a moan out of him. 

Oh, and how soft it was. Freshly washed from this morning, his curls felt like silk through your fingers. You let your hands linger in his hair, combing through it, before lightly pulling it back. He groans in your mouth as a response, not parting from your lips just yet, and you smile through it.

How you would’ve parted his legs with your own, and grinded against his crotch, feeling his growing bulge.

You easily push yourself between his legs and grind against him. He pulls back from your kiss then, gasping in surprise. With the threat outside the room being long gone, you welcomed any noise you would get out of him. You feel his cock getting harder against your leg and you keep rubbing him up and down, creating more pressure over his member. He rests his head on your shoulder, breathing hard, his hold on you getting tighter. 

“Hells, darling, I didn’t think you had it in you,” he pants.

“Mmh, seems like I’ve got a lot more to teach you then.”

You reach for your trousers under your robe, letting them fall down after loosening  your belt, before reaching for his, pulling them down just low enough to expose his cock which is already leaking with pre-come. He hisses when you grab a hold of him, your mere touch sending shivers down his spine.

You smirk at the visible reaction he has to you, feeling powerful over him. Such a contrast compared to your last night tryst. This time, you were guiding this dance.

You guide him towards your entrance, only to grind yourself over him. He slides so easily between your wet folds and you can’t help the moan escaping your lips. The friction over your clit is nothing short of euphoric. You swing your hips back and forth, coating his length with your arousal, as he holds onto your waist for dear life. You grab his face and pull him closer so your foreheads touch, then take a moment to admire the mess you’re making of him, and by the Gods, what a pretty mess he was. His parted lips, gasping between each stroke you would allow him, his eyes fluttering open, lost in the feeling of your thighs squeezing him, his roughed up curls from the sweat building up on his forehead. 

He was beautiful.

You feel him moving on his own, trying to change positions so he has more control, but it's not something you will allow this time. You take his hands from your waist and push them against the wall he was leaning against, never stopping the rhythm you had going on. 

“What do you think you're doing?” Your voice is coated with desire.

“Please, let me in,” he begs.

“Do you think you deserve it?”, you say, playfully.

“Gods, I– yes, yes I do!”, he whines.

“Beg more.”

“What?! I will not–”, before he can finish his sentence, you reach for his ear with your tongue and give it a lick from the base to the tip. “Mmmgh ah, fuck–” 

“What was that?” You nibble on his ear.

“I– Ah–,” his entire resolve crumbles. “Please, love, I need you please,”  he begs again, his voice faltering.

You continue to lick and nibble on his ear. “See? Now, was that so hard?” you tease, using his own words against him.

“Oh, you little– ah–!”

You cut him off as you raise your leg to hook it to his hips allowing you for a better angle as you push him inside you slowly. You’re so wet from teasing him that he slides in without any resistance.

You throw your head back, taking in the feeling of him filling you, and at the vision of your exposed neck, Astarion leans in the crook of your neck, bared fangs scratching the spot he previously fed from you. You feel his cold breath along with the wetness of his tongue, lapping at your healed wound. You sense what he wants to do and although you crave it and you would let him do it, you don’t wanna give in so easily.

You stop all motion and with him buried deep inside of you, your hand lingering in his hair grabs a handful of curls to pull him back, away from your prized neck, holding him in place. 

He growls insistently, his true nature coming back to him.

“Give me one good reason,” you tug harder.

Through his ragged breath, he smiles playfully, “I just wanted a snack for the road.”

“You drank last night, you don’t need it,” your tone comes out raspy and aggressive despite your enjoyment of the situation.

“But you want this,” he pauses, watching your reaction. Your answer isn’t spoken, as much as it’s seen : your chest rises higher with each panting breath you take, your eyes flutter, drunk on lust, and your core is dripping wet, your combined fluids leaking against your leg. “Don't you?” He knows both of you know it's a fight for control. 

You thrust roughly, once, to reassert your position over him, making him whimper. “And just what makes you think that?”

He locks eyes with you, a grin painting over his face. “You seemed to enjoy it last time.”

“Hardly.”

“My dear, you can deny it all you want, but I can read you like an open book.”

You hated how he always managed to have the last word. One day, you tell yourself, It’ll be me. But for now…

“Shut up and bite me.”

The second you let go of your grasp in his hair, Astarion dives in the nook of your neck, plunging his fangs in your pulsating vein. You cry out at the sharp sting you feel and once the initial pain settles in, you pick back up the rhythm you had earlier, making the elf groan as he drinks you in. He was right, his bites had the effect of an aphrodisiac on you. You would never tell him though, his ego was inflated enough as is, admitting it would only make him more insufferable than he already is.

His hold on you became tighter and the more he drank, the less your strength allowed you to keep your position, but the build up down your stomach only grew. You didn't want to falter so close to the end.

“Astarion…” you warn him.

He growls against your neck and takes one last sip of your liquid gold before removing his fangs from you, licking off the new wound he created to clean you up. That's something else you could appreciate from the vampire ; no matter how selfish you found him, he did seem to respect the boundaries you established. He would absolutely push all of your buttons but when it came to sex he seemed more attentive, responsive. You never wanted to fall for him, but your heart had other plans.

You cross your arms around his neck, closing any remaining distance between your two bodies and with all the energy left in you, you thrust harder, and faster, letting yourself get lost in the overwhelming feeling he provided between your legs. Now that you had experienced him once, you craved getting filled up by him, only him, as much as possible, as much as he wanted to. You wanted to be his. 

“Darling, I’m close–”

“Come, let go for me,” you breathe in his ear before licking him again. “You’re so pretty when you come inside me.”

Your last words combined with the stimulation you’ve given him trigger his collapse in your arms. He grasps your hips vigorously, pulling you flush against him, allowing him to unload himself deep inside of your womb. You fall over the edge shortly after, drinking in the feeling of his semen filling you up. You fantasized constantly about being filled to the brim by him. Used over and over again, leaking from his seed, the act merely done to defile you in his image. You clench around his length, your legs shaking as you picture yourself overflowing with his come and ride out the wave of electrifying pleasure that courses through you.

As you come down from your high and let your leg down, you reach for something to grab a hold of so as to not completely fall over. Astarion had completely slouched over the wall you fucked him over, he was not an option. The nearest thing that seemed solid enough was an empty torch holder placed right next to the door which you grab without second thoughts. The last thing you expected was for it to pull down as you grabbed it. Even less that it opened a secret trap door in the middle of the room, from which a pillar came out of. You stay in place for a moment, piecing together what just happened, with Astarion making eye contact with you, just as puzzled as you were.

Before you now stands an altar with a very clearly placed piece of dark metal, shaped strangely like the pattern you remember being described in the previous document you found. You put your trousers back on, dismissing the mess between your legs, and grab the missing piece, connecting it to the artifact you held, to see it click in place.

“No fucking way.”

Astarion smirks, as if he was responsible for your discovery, proud of himself, “Wouldn’t have found that out with Karlach now, would you?”

He will never let you live this down.

-

When you're around me, I'm radioactive

My blood is burning, radioactive

I'm turning radioactive

My blood is radioactive

My heart is nuclear

Love is all that I fear

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Why the fight for queer rights isn't over (it should be obvious, but to some people it isn't)

TW: transphobia and homophobia

Hi, Tumblr, this is Asmi. If you know me, it's probably as the Good Omens Mascot, which is flattering. I've found so much love and queer positivity in the good omens fandom, and the beautiful thing is how it's canon. Many people outside the queer community don't realise how crucial media and communities like this are. Right now since I'm on break from education, I'm on tumblr for most of the time I'm awake (which is not a lot, I nap more than Crowley). It's wild how different it is from the real world, that I live in at least.

I'm sure a lot of you might have had a similar experience to this: Basically, two people in my life, my bio father and my ex, both told me to my face that queer people needed to stop calling themselves oppressed and how now it's queer people who hold all the power and are oppressing other people. With all due respect, what the fuck.

I live in India, and being a trans guy who is bi and aspec, it's a cesspit. While I'm gendered correctly on Tumblr, and people are so loving and supportive, in real life even my friends who say they support me misgender me 90% of the time. Same with my family. In my previous college which I had to leave because of bullying by both the students and admin, even the queer students would misgender me (I told them I used they/them pronouns, because he/him would have been too unsafe, but even that they didn't manage). In the college I'll join next, it won't be safe for me to be out at all, at risk of losing opportunities and safety. Gay marriage is still illegal. Homophobia and transphobia is the norm. This doesn't even cover all the daily indignities like queerphobic jokes, casual discourse on whether or not we deserve rights, etc. Discrimination against aroace-spec people is rampant even within the queer community, worldwide.

And I live in an urban area, one of the largest cities in India known for its progressiveness and for being relatively safe for queer people. I am privileged compared to other queer people here. The story in other cities, in rural areas which make up most of the country, is far more horrifying. I'm unqualified to speak about anything other than my own experience, but if you can (if you are in a stable and calm enough mental state to handle the information, please put your mental health first) I'm sure there are first person accounts on the many forums.

The fight for equality is not over. It doesn't end with laws riddled with loopholes, it doesn't end even with laws that genuinely help the queer community. Aside from the huge problems of living safely and with access to equal opportunities and resources for people, we deserve dignity, peace, and the right to feel accepted and that we're not an abnormality. And so much more.

I haven't said anything that hasn't been said before, but it can't be said enough. To the queer people reading this, take all my love. We need to stand together, eliminate discourse over who is queer enough to be queer, and be the safe space that the world will not provide for us.

It's not over, and it hasn't been won by a long shot, but what matters is that we're fighting. Even existing as ourselves in a world that tells us it is a crime, is defiance and a step towards making this right.

[literaila]

hi!! i’m shy so i’m anon

first of all i love the typical family series it’s literally the best fanfic i know, thank you for being so creative

a lot of the time you mention gojo and reader being extremely physically close around the children and i was just wondering if they ever questioned the relationship

what do they think when they see the two people they see as parents being this close to kissing but not being sure if they’re in love or not, like did they ever asked? do they have different opinions?

thank you if you answer and i’m so happy you have enough ideas for the fic not to end soon<3

yeah, so, obviously reader and satoru are physical with each other and the kids, so they don’t necessarily question that part of the relationship.

like tsumiki and megumi will crawl into bed with reader and sleep there for the night. when they have movie nights they’re all sprawled across the couch together, limb in limb. you expect a hug in greeting from both of them, and satoru pinches their cheeks literally every second of every day (which earns him a lot of groaning, naturally).

so, i think after a couple of months it’s just natural for tsumiki and megumi.

but, there’s some tension between you and satoru that can’t be ignored.

i think the very first night gojo takes the kids to meet you, megumi, who is already grumpy because this strange man has abducted them and it’s midnight is like “where are you taking us?”

and gojo is obviously grinning, telling him that they’re going to your apartment: “i just need to call yaga real quick. he should have the address.”

“who’s house?”

“y/n.”

megumi frowns. he’s a child, so obviously he asks “is she your girlfriend?”

gojo, phone to his ear, sputters, cheeks going red, shaking his head adamantly and saying “no,” like the very idea offends him.

none of this is lost on megumi, so its his go to method of messing with gojo.

when gojo says that he’s going to kick them out and put on the street megumi says “i’ll just go live at your girlfriends house.”

or when megumi is walking home from school with gojo he asks: “is your girlfriend at home yet? i need her to sign a permission slip.”

any situation where megumi can say ��girlfriend” instead of your name, he’s doing it.

and every time, without fail, satoru answers with a vehement “she’s not my girlfriend.”

and megumi just raises a brow at him.

but one time you’re talking with megumi and satoru and megumi starts to say “see? your girlfri —“ and satoru tugs on his hair, earning a scowl from you, but you don’t have time to question it before satoru is pulling megumi aside.

“call her that one more time and i’m banning you from the library. for life. and selling the dogs online.”

“you can’t do that.”

satoru smiles. “wanna test it?”

so megumi never tries to say it in front of you again and you scold satoru for threatening the children.

tsumiki, on the other hand, i feel is the type of kid to bring up wild questions right before bed completely unwarranted.

so you’re tucking her in one night when she asks “are you in love with gojo?”

and you immediately choke, looking away from her and cursing yourself for ever introducing her to rom coms.

“uhhh…” you wave a hand, trying to evade, but she’s looking at you and her big brown eyes are so genuine that you just sigh. “i love gojo.”

she doesn’t really understand the difference, unfortunately, but she doesn’t question it.

and another time you’re talking about one of her school friends, and she says “yeah, but we’re not best friends.”

you raise a brow. “you’re not? she just spent the night. you see her every day.”

“yeah, but she said that she didn’t want to cuddle with me when we went to sleep.”

your mouth opens. then closes.

“you know?” tsumiki continues. “like you and gojo.”

so you have to teach her about the different types of love, and what a best friend is—“your favorite friend, miki. cuddling is not a factor.”—and afterwards she’s not completely clear on it still, but she nods.

“okay. aiko’s my best friend.”

you nod, satisfied, and tell her to get under the covers.

“but…” tsumiki starts and you nod. “what kind of love is yours and gojo’s then? if you like to cuddle? and you see each other every day? and you love him? are you still best friends then?”

“okay! bedtime. don’t want to stay up too late, do you?” you answer and get out of there as quick as possible.

so, yeah. they both know. but also it’s not like they’ve had any other great examples of romantic relationships (ahem, toji) so they don’t question it for the most part. that’s just how they are.

as they grow up they get to listen to the whispers of your coworkers and friends, though, rolling their eyes and saying that you guys should “just make out already.” which both of the children agree with.

really, it’s obvious that you like each other. (i have a little one shot that i planned where megumi points this out i just haven’t written it oops.)

but, let’s say, several years later after you both finally get together megumi and tsumiki are just talking about the two of you and tsumiki brings up what you told her about gojo being your best friend, and the different types of love.

and megumi rolls his eyes, going “seriously. who let them be responsible for two children?”

tsumiki just laughs.

[halfagone]

So I was thinking and...

Move aside, Danny, this ain't about you-

My reasoning?

We all know Danny's life is fucked up. We know this. We've acknowledged this. All sorts of shit happens in the show that gets glossed over and we, as a fandom, go in and say, "Yeah, no let's talk about that actually-" But while Jazz may not be a main character, things happen to her too that should be acknowledged as well.

Let's start with some basics: her parentification. While it may not be uncommon for older siblings to take care of their younger ones, that doesn't make it right or better. Jazz is 16 in the show. She is just as much a kid as Danny is, even if she vehemently tries to deny it. She should not be the one responsible for looking after her brother like a parent would.

This also bleeds into the way she has to watch after or hold her parents back. They are grown adults; she should not be the one responsible for making sure they treat her younger brother right, or don't forget things, or act like adults. This is not and never should have been her duty as a child, oldest or not.

Let's move onto more episodic examples. In "Prisoners of Love", she had a bit of a meltdown when she found out she had been wrong. That lends to some control issues and perfectionism that isn't healthy in the slightest and should probably be dealt with before she becomes an adult and realizes that kind of mindset is going to burn her out. Fast.

In "My Brother's Keeper", Spectra intended to murder her in front of the entire school. Obviously the plan doesn't work out, but a murder attempt is a murder attempt and that brings trauma all of its own.

A lesser known example, but Johnny (who she had dated briefly) used her as a meat puppet in "13" so that his girlfriend could escape from the Ghost Zone. If we want to acknowledge that what Kitty did to Paulina was wrong, then we have to acknowledge this too.

In "Doctor's Disorders", Jazz was literally a disembodied head in a jar. I feel like we should talk about that, and the body horror that comes with it. In line with that, Vlad had nanobots injected into her system, as known from "Secret Weapons", and regardless if they're still there or not that weighs on the mind.

In "Reality Trip", Jazz agreed with Freakshow which implies she has some ghost envy of her own? If Tucker's desire to have powers like Danny is messed up, then this ought to be too.

Now this poll isn't to ignore Danny's trauma. But this ain't about him. This time it's about Jazz and the fact that she has problems of her own. I know it's popular to make her out as a mini therapist, but therapists have therapists of their own to handle their stress and emotions. Jazz should be no different, even if you don't headcanon her as a psychologist as an adult.

So, tldr: Jazz's life is fucked up too and it deserves some acknowledgement.