#[ i'm like a completely different person now ]

[backofthebookshelf]

It's not a controversial take necessarily -- it's just that the particular environment of AO3, where you can see how many times your fic was loaded in a browser window and where the little heart button has a different meaning than it does on every other social media site, is uniquely bad for the human brain.

For the VAST majority of history, both the history of making art generally and the history of writing fanfiction in particular, you did not get to know how many people gave your work a cursory once-over, or how many people checked your book out from the library and never read it, or how many people overheard a line of poetry and thought "huh, neat" and never did anything else. These interactions were, as they should be, completely anonymous and uncountable. Even in the pre-AO3 days of fanfiction, there was an understanding that page hit counters were kind of crap (for one thing, they would count you every time you loaded the page, and you had to load the page to check the counter, so that was incentive not to look at it that much).

Even in other artistic contexts where you do now have page hit counters on everything, they're contextualized through marketing research, not consumed as a raw value. Marketing talks about conversion rate, which is the % of people who saw something who then went on to do the thing you wanted them to do - for a business that's probably buy the thing, for a nonprofit it might be donate or sign up for a volunteer session, for a fanfiction writer it's leave a comment. At work I work with multiple major companies you have definitely heard of who spend half a million dollars and 1-3 full time employees every year on something that increases their conversion rate by 1-2%. They do this because the conversion rate on our emails is 5%, which is INSANELY high.

And yes, leaving a comment doesn't cost money, but it does cost time and energy. Writers overestimate how easy it is for people to write comments--my coworkers are out here using chatgpt to write boilerplate work emails, I can't imagine ANY of them ever leaving a comment on a work of art they enjoyed. Verbally, yes--and "in a friend discord is much closer to verbally than in a comment form--but in writing? Absolutely not.

As for kudos, I can't help but think that the "likes don't do anything, you have to reblog" culture of social media like twitter and tumblr affects that too (and yes, by the latter days of twitter I was seeing people saying that on there, because the algorithm was so broken). Kudos is essentially a like button, and like the like button on twitter that used to be a favorite button before they changed it and some people never stopped treating it like one, it has meanings for people you'll never understand. "It's just a click!" It is a symbol with vague connotations but no specific universally agreed upon meaning; it tells you how many people clicked on that button, and that's all.

So yes, actually, I guess I am saying that as a writer, you are supposed to assume that many more people liked your fic than you will ever hear from or even know about. And that's a good thing! You have the chance to touch someone's life even though they have no idea who you are and don't think of you as a person so much as a semi-mythical figure called "the author". And that's part of the magic, to me, of creating things. You pour yourself into a thing and then you set it loose into the world and you hope it means to someone else as much as it meant to you. Sometimes, very rarely, someone will tell you so, and that's amazing, I'm not going to pretend it's not, but you have to have enough faith in yourself to believe it happens whether you hear about it or not.

I really don't understand how "without getting kudos or comments a fanfiction author is going to assume that people who clicked their fic didn't like it" became a controversial take.

I don't know why some people think an author should imagine, or guess that people who click their fic enjoyed it it when nobody is telling them that.

If you're re-reading a fic constantly, or leaving it up in your tab so that it re-loads every day for a hundred days the author is not going to know that unless you tell them. They'd love to hear it. It would make their day.

And if you don't tell them you liked their fic, there's no reason for them to assume you did.

[strangelittlestories]

"You know, Red Riding Hood, *some people* consider it rude to comment on a person's physical traits." Grandma's awfully big and bushy eyebrows (above her awfully big eyes) raised in unimpressed fashion. "Like, if it comes up in conversation, sure. But completely unprompted? For shame, granddaughter."

Red considered this. She considered this deeply. She held a brief little internal conference about this.

Red's Super Ego: She's got a point. In an ideal world, this isn't how we'd behave.

Red's Anxiety: Yeah, we fudged it, lads. We've screwed the pooch. Really wrenched the dalmatian. And absolutely bolted the little doggie too. The only thing to do now is apologise and get eaten.

Red's Healthy Boundaries: Hold up, can we consider context? Sure, avoiding physical commentary is usually a good rule, but it's situational right? And the situation we are *currently in* is noticing that our grandma has suddenly developed a severe case of apex predator. A condition that, by the way, is usually terminal ... but not for her.

Red's Lizard Brain: RUN RUN RUN! TEETH! RUN! TEETH! OH GOD! FLEE FREEZE! AAAAAAAAAA! GULLET! MUZZLE HER WITH A DOILIE! USE THE CROCHET LIKE A NET! PUNCH THE SNOOT!

Red's Ancestral Knowledge: Hold up. Something feels ... I dunno. Itchy? Like. Itchy on the inside. There's something we're missing. Why does it feel like night-time when it's not dark? Why do I love this wolf in grandma's clothes? What *day* is it?

Red's Critical Thinking: Sorry I'm late to the party, gang. Hey, if this wolf ate grandma, then why's everything so clean still? Like, no gore or splatter? And if it ate her whole, then how's it wearing her nightgown?

Red's Adrenal Glands: Hey, you guys like 4 Non-Blondes? 'Cos we're about to take a deep breath and then GET REAL HIGH.

All of this happened in moment. But that, it turned out, was still a moment *too long*, because Red's mouth had been talking out loud while the other bits had been talking in her head.

"Grandma, let's cut the crap." Red's voice was blunt, but still fond. "You're a big old wolf and I'm snack-size. But just because you're a danger doggo, doesn't mean you're not *also* my family. Maybe you ate grandma. Or maybe the full moon's about to come out and it turns out granny's always been a bit howly around the edges. It doesn't matter - either way, my gran's in there somewhere. And I love you. You hear me? I love you no matter what you are. So if you're gonna eat me, you'd best do it quick, because the woodcutter usually checks in around this time and he is not a lover of anything lupine. So ... what do you say?"

Red could see two different creatures were warring in grandma's eyes horizon-wide eyes. One hungered for community. Another hungered for flesh.

But, ultimately, both were pack predators.

"My, what a big heart you have, granddaughter."

And the wolf engulfed Little Red Riding Hood with its limbs, rather than its jaws.

"Phew. That's a relief. I wasn't sure who was gonna win there." Red's voice was a little muffled from around the fur and fluffy nightgown. "But I wasn't joking about the woodcutter. So unless he's likely to get real chill with some stuff real quick, you and me have gotta make a man disappear, grandma."

Grandma the Wolf nodded.

"Hey kid. If a tree falls in this forest and no-one's around to hear it?" Grandma's big-ass teeth were all the better for grinning. "Then can they do us for murder?"

"They cannot." replied Red, resolutely. "Let's make this tree-hating motherlover cry wolf."

"I'm actually a little surprised you're so down for murder, Red."

"Well, they do say the best defence ... is a *hood* offence."

[winteringdream]

𝑴𝑬𝑬𝑻 𝑼𝑮𝑳𝒀 — 𝑻𝑨𝑬𝑺𝑨𝑵

You've had a small crush on Taesan since your first year of university Now that second year has begun, you're determined to get to know him better. Your first meetings with him are ugly to say the least. But as you try to connect with him, you realize that Taesan struggles to show his feelings. Will the two of you manage to show each other how you feel, or will your feelings remain untold?

✩ ⋅ pairing. bio major!taesan x bio major fem!reader ✩ ⋅ genre. fluff, angst, university!au, mutual pining (i tried) ✩ ⋅ warnings. alcohol intake, miscommunication, ankle injury, mentioning of being followed, reader studies quite hard-core, overworking ✩⋅ wc. 10k ✩⋅ with ive's liz & rei, all of bonedo and triples mayu ✩⋅ a/n: no mentioning of y/n, also the you character is somewhat similar to taesan personality-wise ✩⋅ this is part one! part two coming soon

It was a sunny day. the beginning of what was supposed to be a good academic year. It didn’t last long before you managed to completely embarrass yourself in front of Taesan. A guy you may or may not have a small crush on. 

Your iced tea had spilled all over his books and clothes when you were admiring a cat.  

“I can pay for dry cleaning,” you had blurted out, face burning with embarrassment.

Taesan exhaled sharply, shaking his hands free of the liquid. “Don’t bother.” And then he just walked away.

You were flustered, a mess, to say the least—for five days after the event. Replaying the encounter at least 500 times in your head.

So much for making a good first impression...

You had promised yourself that the next time you’d see him, you’d properly apologise. But you just didn’t think meeting him would happen so soon. 

A few leaves had started to fall, and the temperature outside had started to lower. Shivering in your t-shirt, you scold yourself for not bringing a jacket. 

You look at the time, realising you’re late for class. 

“Shit.” you mutter to yourself. “Class started five minutes ago.” 

Running for your life, you manage to reach the building within two minutes. But, then came the problem. You weren’t familiar with this place at all.

Where was room 523 supposed to be? 

Out of breath you frantically run upstairs, after realising all the classrooms on the first floor start with a 3. 

Your stomach dropped. Wrong floor.

Panicked, you took off toward the stairs, moving too fast to notice the person coming from the opposite direction.

On your way to the second floor, you bump into someone, causing you to tumble down a few steps. 

You look up to see no other than the Han Taesan. Your butt hurt from the fall, but you didn’t have any time to think about the pain.

“I'm sorry I didn't see you.” 

"You’re not even going to say sorry?" you muttered, brushing off your pants. Then, narrowing your eyes, you added,

Taesan barely blinked. “You ran into me.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, but before you could argue, he stepped past you without a second thought.

“Try the next floor up,” he said flatly as he disappeared down the hall.

You exhaled sharply, watching his retreating figure in disbelief.

Unbelievable.

It’s when you’re on your way to the campus cafe after class, your mind wandering when you hear footsteps behind you. 

You quicken your pace, trying to get to the door of the cafe.  You reach the door of the cafe, hand on the handle, and then it happens. He steps up right behind you, closer than you expected. 

You pull the door open, and as you do, it almost hits him. His gaze flickers to you for only a second, barely acknowledging you, before he steps past, his shoulder brushing yours like you’re nothing more than an obstacle in his way.

You blink. Then scoff under your breath.

Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t even bother to say “excuse me,” or the way he acts like you don’t exist, but something inside you deflates.

For a second, you wonder why you even liked him in the first place. The person standing in front of you feels so different from the one you once admired from afar.

You watch as he takes his drink and turns to leave without so much as a glance in your direction.

And that’s when it really sinks in.

You let out a slow breath, the weight of disappointment settling in your chest as you turn toward the counter.

Why am I even trying?

Maybe it’s time to stop. To stop chasing after someone who never cared in the first place.

The thought of Taesan was already floating away and out of your head. You hadn't bumped into him anymore after that day and the seasons had changed. It wasn't winter yet, but it might as well be. It was freezing outside, a thin layer of ice forming on the school fountain. 

It’s late in the evening, and you’re walking on campus, juggling a pile of books in your arms as you head toward the library. You had received an email reminding you that five books you had lent from the library needed to be returned today. 

You should've read your mail earlier, because by the time you had actually read the email it was already 9:30 pm, 30 minutes before the library closing time. 

Why were there no online copies of these books? you complain with a sigh, readjusting the books in your arms. The thick biology textbooks were heavy and completely blocked your view. 

You don’t notice the small puddle that had turned into ice on the ground. You slip, your foot sliding out from under you, and before you can catch yourself, you crash to the floor, the sound of your books hitting the ground echoing.

You wince in pain as you try to sit up, your ankle throbbing immediately from the impact.. You glance around a little embarrassed, hoping no one saw.

Just as you're about to sigh of relief, because no one seems to be around you, your eye catches sight of Taesan. He is standing just a few feet away, walking towards you with his cold look and unreadable expression.

Why is he walking over? 

Quickly composing yourself you try to look around for the books you had just dropped. But before you can stand up, Taesan is standing next to you. 

His eyes flicker over you, lingering on your ankle. His usual impassive gaze shifts, his jaw tightens for a fraction of a second before he exhales quietly. Is he worried?

"You alright?" His voice is low, and despite his usual cold tone, there's an underlying concern.

You laugh nervously, "This is so embarrassing." you mutter to yourself, as you pick up the book closest to you. 

He raises an eyebrow, taken aback by the fact that you're not replying to him like he had expected. 

His gaze flicks down to your ankle and then back up to your face, his posture still stiff, but there's something almost protective in the way he's looking at you now.

Without waiting for your response, he crouches down, carefully taking your ankle in his hands. It’s an unexpected move, and you’re caught off guard by how gentle he is. 

His hands are cold, but his touch is surprisingly tender as he examines your foot, testing for any obvious swelling or injury. 

His hand extends, fingers curling slightly as if debating whether to offer or simply act. You hesitate before grasping it, his grip is steady, warm despite the cold air.

His brow furrows slightly as he ensures you're stable on your feet, his gaze flicking down to your ankle with a quiet, assessing look. 

"Careful," he says, his voice soft but commanding, as if it’s an order rather than a suggestion. For a second, his touch lingers just a bit longer than necessary.

"You shouldn’t walk on it," he mutters, his voice flat but with a hint of care that makes your heart skip a beat. "It could get worse."

You open your mouth to say something, but he’s already reaching for your books, picking them up with ease. He doesn’t look at you as he hands them back.

“Come on,” he says, standing up and glancing down at you again. “I’ll walk you to the nurse’s office.”

"No need," you tell him, finally opening your mouth. "I need to return these books today or I'll be fined." 

You attempt to step forward, putting weight on your injured ankle, but the sharp pain shoots up your leg, and you immediately wince, slightly stumbling. 

You bite your lip to keep from making a sound, determined not to show how much it hurts. But before you can take another step, Taesan is already there, his hand holding your arm to steady you. 

His gaze flicks down to your ankle once again, his brow furrowing slightly. “You’re not walking on it like that,” he says, his tone more forceful than before.  

Something in you twinges, Taesan, who has been nothing but cold to you is now suddenly trying to help you? 

Without another word, he takes the books from you. Then, to your surprise, he steps a little closer, his shoulder coming up next to yours. “I’ll take you,” he says. 

"Look I don't know what you're trying to do, but I can get it checked out later. I'm telling you these books have to be returned within—" you glance at your phone, panic creeping into your voice as the time flickers at 9:50 p.m. "—10 minutes." 

Without another word, he takes the books from your arms. Then, to your surprise, he steps a little closer, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“I’ll take you,” he says in that calm way of his. “You won’t make it on your own, I’ll get you there in less time.” 

You hesitate, eyeing him, unsure how to react to his quiet confidence. You’ve always known him to be the cold, logical type, the one who keeps to himself, hardly ever showing emotion. So why now? Why would he offer this help when it’s so unlike him?

"How are you going to take me?

Your eyes meet his, and for a split second, you feel the tension between the two of you tighten. There’s a brief pause, and you swear you see a flicker of something in his gaze. Is it surprise? Or amusement?

"Any way I have to," he says. “Even if it means carrying you.”

You blink, caught off guard by his words. Taesan is talking about carrying you? You try to process it, your mind racing, but all you manage to do is stare at him, trying to figure out if he’s serious or if it’s just another one of his sarcastic remarks.

He looks like he’s already made up his mind about this. "You can’t walk on that. It’ll get worse," he states flatly, as if it's simple logic. "And you don’t have time to waste. Let me do this."

You take a deep breath, feeling the rush of emotions that had built up inside you. The blood is rushing to your cheeks at the thought of Taesan carrying you. 

He’s not the same person you thought he was, and for some reason, that realization leaves you speechless.

“Alright,” you say quietly, finally letting go of the last thread of resistance. You look up at him, offering a small, unsure smile. “If you really think I can’t make it.”

His eyes soften just a touch, though his expression is still as unreadable as ever. He doesn’t smirk or say anything else, just nods once, his movements smooth as he steps a little closer, ready to help.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, and for the first time, there’s something faintly warm in his voice, as though he’s trying to reassure you, though he says nothing more. He puts down the books on the ground, and crouches in front of you. 

You hesitate for only a second before you allow him to carefully lift you, his arms steady around you. He is surprisingly gentle, his grip firm but never forceful. 

Your heart races, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the way he’s holding you, or because for the first time, you’re realizing that Taesan might be showing you a side of him you never thought possible.

Taesan carries you towards a nearby bench, carefully letting you down before walking back to pick up the books. 

"I'll return these for you." He says, somehow the stack of books look lighter in his arms. "Give me your student ID." 

You reach into your pocket, pulling out your wallet. Luckily you had taken a good photo for the ID card. 

You hand him your student ID without a word, but as you do, you catch yourself watching him more closely than usual. 

As Taesan walks over to return your books, his mind is racing with questions.  The task itself is simple, return the books, make sure everything’s done quickly. But even as he holds the stack of books in his arms with his usual calm, his thoughts keep drifting back to you. 

The way he’d carried you, his concern, it's different from how he usually thinks and acts. It feels strange. 

He’s never been one to let his emotions get involved, especially when it comes to others. But something about the way he couldn’t just leave you there, struggling on your own, is bothering him more than it should.

He picks up your student ID, barely glancing at it. Until he does. His gaze hesitates, lingering longer than it should. His fingers tighten ever so slightly around the card before he exhales, expression unreadable once more.

Why was he so insistent about helping you? Why does it bother him that you’re hurt? He knows it shouldn’t.

It’s just an injury, he thinks. And yet, when he saw you struggling, when he saw you hesitating, he couldn't help but care. 

He sets the books down with more force than necessary, the librarian looking at him with confusion. He tells himself it’s nothing, that he’s just overthinking. It’s just books. Just an inconvenience.

As he walks back to you, the feeling lingers, like a quiet hum in the back of his mind. He’s never been the type to get involved like this, to feel the need to make sure someone is okay.

As he nears you, Taesan realizes he’s worried. And he doesn’t know why. 

He’s not sure why, not sure what it means, but for the first time in a long while, he doesn’t have all the answers. And that, more than anything, makes him uneasy.

Your ankle healed quickly, and two days later you’re still thinking about that night.  You try to focus on the lesson, but your mind keeps drifting back. After everything he’d done for you, after helping you with your books, the care he showed. Why was he so confusing?  

One moment he’s cold and distant, not even apologising to you when the two of you bumped against each other. And now he’s suddenly carrying you on his back, returning your books for you?  

How can you feel this way about someone who’s been so cold to you? You groan, sinking lower into your seat, your hands tangled in your hair. The soft murmur of your classmates fades into the background as you try to push the thoughts aside. 

Taesan enters the classroom like a shadow. He takes a seat in front of you, tossing his bag into the seat beside him without a second thought. He doesn’t bother to look around, just pulls his head down onto the desk with a soft, exhausted sigh. 

You’ve never seen him like this before, and you can’t decide whether it makes you feel worse for him or more confused about everything that’s happened between you two. 

You hate how much you’re thinking about him, how his presence so easily takes over your mind. You wonder if he’s still thinking about last night, if he’s wishing he hadn’t stepped in. And the thought stabs at you, suddenly leaving you feeling guilty, and even more tangled up inside.

He hasn’t even glanced at you. But for some reason, that distance feels even more confusing than the moments when he’s so close. 

After the lecture the lecture hall is slowly emptying out, and you're packing your things into your bag, preparing to leave. 

Leehan, a marine sciences student, walks over to him with a grin on his face. 

"Taesan!" Leehan calls out, and Taesan looks up, just slightly, his eyes flicking toward his friend.

"Jaehyun is hosting a party this weekend," Leehan continues, "You wanna come? You’ve been buried in your books for ages, man. It’s about time you took a break."

Taesan doesn’t immediately respond, glancing briefly at Leehan before his eyes drift toward the door. For a moment, it looks like he’s debating the offer in his mind.

"Come on, a little chaos won’t kill you," Leehan nudges him with a teasing push. "Besides, we both know Jaehyun’s gonna keep asking until you say yes. Might as well save yourself the trouble."

Taesan's gaze shifts away again, his expression remaining as unreadable as always. He seems distracted, almost lost in thought. His shoulders shift slightly, but there’s no real indication of whether he’s interested or not.

Leehan, noticing his friend's hesitation, adds with a grin, "Just show up for an hour. No one’s expecting you to dance on tables. Just exist in the same space as other humans for once."

Taesan remains silent for a moment longer, looking at Leehan, then back down at his bag. Finally, he responds in his usual calm, detached way, "I’ll think about it."

Leehan laughs, shaking his head. "Mhm, sure. But if you don’t show up, Jaehyun will drag you there himself and you know he won’t shut up about it the whole night."

Later that evening, you’re sitting on your bed, flipping through some notes when Rei, your roommate, bursts through the door with a wide grin plastered on her face. 

“Guess what?” she says, practically bouncing with excitement. “Jaehyun’s hosting a party this weekend. You should come with me!”

You glance up at her.“A party? I don’t know,I’ve got so much stuff to catch up on.”

Rei flops down on the bed next to you, her eyes sparkling. “Come on, you’ve been studying nonstop. You need to unwind! It’s going to be fun, I promise. I’ll make sure you’re not stuck in some corner by yourself. You’ll have a good time.” 

You feel a tug of hesitation, Rei’s always so convincing. Plus, you know she’ll be there, and she’s great at pulling you into her whirlwind of energy.

"I don’t know, Rei” you trail off, glancing at the pile of work on your desk. "I could use the time to catch up on some stuff."

Rei shakes her head, already knowing where this is going. “You always say that, but you never actually get any work done when you stay in. Trust me, you’ll feel way better after letting loose for just one night.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile on your face. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. But you’re not leaving me to get lost in the crowd alone."

“It’s not just me, Liz and Mayu are going too.” She laughs when she sees your eyes light up. The four of you haven’t met up in a while, and the thought of reuniting makes you happy already.

Rei gets up, already heading to her side of the room to change, humming to herself. You can’t help but laugh at her excitement, feeling a little bit of your own reluctance fade away. 

The weekend rolls around, and despite your hesitation, you find yourself standing outside Jaehyun’s apartment with Rei, Liz, and Mayu.

"I swear, I haven’t seen Jaehyun throw a party like this in months," Liz says, her eyes wide as she takes in the scene. The bass from the music vibrates the ground beneath your feet.

“I haven't been to a party like this in ages." You chuckle, adjusting the small shoulder bag. 

Mayu laughs, looping her arm through yours as she leads you toward the door. "Exactly! And you haven’t had any fun in ages either."

The four of you chuckle, walking through the door of Jaehyun’s house. You step inside, immediately hit by the heavy thrum of music and the overwhelming scent of alcohol and perfume. 

The living room is packed, people are dancing, talking, and laughing, and the air is thick with energy. Rei takes the time to greet a few of her friends. 

“Sungho!” Rei exclaims, waving in his direction. You and Mayu exchange confused glances but Liz is quick to fill the two of you in. 

“New friend she made,” She whispers to the two of you. You nod, trying to make sense of the new information. Sungho looks like he’s part of the crowd, laughing and chatting easily with everyone, while Rei joins him with a wide grin on her face. You watch them for a second before turning your attention back to the rest of the party.

The room is alive with chatter, flashing lights, and the steady thrum of bass. You can feel the familiar knot of discomfort form in your stomach. You’ve never been the party type, but you promised Rei you’d at least try.

“Come on,” Mayu says, nudging you gently. “Let’s get some drinks, and maybe find a spot to relax. No need to dive straight into the chaos.”

You smile gratefully, following her as she guides you through the crowded room. You can see a long line of people near the bar, everyone laughing and shouting to be heard over the music. You figure you’ll grab something light, maybe just a drink to ease the tension in your shoulders.

Suddenly, your eyes catch something familiar.

Standing near the far end of the living room, Taesan stands off to the side, more noticeable in this environment. He’s wearing a dark jacket over his usual casual clothes, and his expression is unreadable as he observes the crowd. 

Your heart stutters slightly, remembering once again, that time he helped you with your books. He doesn’t notice you staring, or if he does, he gives no indication of it. His attention is on a conversation between Jaehyun and Woonhak, though he’s clearly not involved in their loud conversation. 

"Here you go," Mayu interrupts your thoughts, handing you a drink. You take it with a polite nod, still glancing in Taesan’s direction.

Mayu follows your gaze and raises an eyebrow. “You know him?” she asks, her voice low enough that it’s mostly drowned out by the music.

You blink and quickly turn your attention back to her. “Sort of. We’re in a couple of the same classes. He helped me with something once.” You don’t go into detail about the books, though a part of you wonders why you feel the need to downplay it.

Mayu smirks knowingly, her eyes darting back to Taesan. “Interesting. He doesn’t seem like the party type.”

You can’t help but agree with that. Taesan looks out of place here, You wonder why he even bothered coming. Maybe Jaehyun convinced him, like Rei did to you.

The moment stretches on as you continue to observe him, torn between curiosity and discomfort. Finally, Mayu nudges you. "You gonna go say hi?"

The question is a little too direct, and you feel your cheeks warm, even though you can’t really explain why. You don’t know if it’s the party atmosphere or the fact that Taesan is so different from everyone else here, but you suddenly feel a little nervous.

"I don’t know," you mumble, taking a sip of your drink, scrunching your face at the taste. "What did you put in this?"

“Is it that bad?" She replies, taking a sip as well. “Ooh, it’s got a little kick to it. Don’t worry, maybe it’s a good idea to get drunk considering your hesitation to go up to him.” 

You roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Mayu’s right, though. It would be weird to just leave it hanging.

You take another glance at Taesan, and this time, your eyes meet. There’s a brief moment of recognition between the two of you, but then he immediately looks away, back to his drink.

The night starts to blur together, the music pulses through the floor, the lights flash, and before you know it, you’re on your third drink, not realizing you might have had one too many.

Your head feels light, your thoughts a little foggy, and your body is just warm enough to make you feel oddly detached from the world around you. It’s not that you’re drunk, just tipsy.

You glance over toward Taesan, and for some reason, your heart picks up pace. There’s something about the way he’s standing there that makes you want to talk to him, but something keeps holding you back.

Rei and Liz are laughing about something near the punch bowl, and Mayu is already halfway through a conversation with some guy you don’t recognize. 

You stand there for a moment, the noise of the party swirling around you, but all you can focus on is the distance between you and Taesan. Your heart thumps louder in your chest with each passing second, and it’s becoming harder to ignore the pull to go up to him. 

You take another sip of your drink, the alcohol only making you feel lighter, more detached from the moment.

For some reason, your body won’t move, though. It’s like there’s an invisible wall between you and Taesan, one you can’t quite get past. You try to convince yourself it’s because the party's just too chaotic, too loud for any real conversation, but deep down, you know it’s more than that.

You steal another glance at him. He’s still standing there, drink in hand, his gaze flicking across the room but never settling on anything or anyone. 

Just as you're about to look away and find another distraction, you catch his eyes again. This time, it’s longer. You can’t tell if it’s intentional or if it’s just a coincidence, but there’s a subtle change in his expression when he meets your gaze. 

It’s enough to make your heart skip a beat. For a brief second, you’re aware of how close he is, in a way that feels strange. 

"Go on, say something,” you tell yourself, but your feet feel like they’re glued to the floor.

You take another sip of your drink, but it’s barely registering on your tongue anymore. The thoughts are starting to swirl in your head, and you’re not sure whether the alcohol is making it worse or if you’re just being you.

“You should talk to him,” Mayu’s voice suddenly breaks through the fog, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You blink, and Mayu’s standing next to you now, an amused smile on her face. She must’ve noticed you staring at Taesan.

“I- what?” You stammer, a little flustered, your cheeks burning despite the alcohol running through your system. You turn your head quickly, trying to mask the sudden rush of nerves.

“Come on, I see the way you’re looking at him. Go talk to him,” she teases, nudging you playfully.

“I don’t know. He looks busy.” You try to shrug it off, but the words feel weak in your mouth.

Mayu raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’re drunk, huh?” she asks, sounding amused but concerned at the same time.

“I’m fine,” you quickly reply, though your voice wavers slightly.

Mayu doesn’t look convinced, but she gives you a reassuring smile. “Okay, well, if you don’t go, I’m going to make you,” she says, her tone teasing. “You never know until you try.”

With a quick shake of your head, you tell Mayu, “Okay, okay, I’ll go talk to him.” You don’t know if it’s the alcohol talking, but you’re suddenly moving with confidence.

Mayu smiles brightly as you start making your way toward Taesan. You can feel your heart racing as you push through the crowd, trying to keep your composure.

As you get closer, you can feel the thrum of the music in your chest, the chaos of the party fading away a little. And then you’re standing right in front of him, your breath catching a little as you finally find yourself face-to-face with him.

“Hey,” you say a little too quickly, the word tumbling out before you can stop it. You’re suddenly very aware of how loud the music is, how everyone else around you seems to be talking and laughing, leaving you standing here in the middle of it all, heart thudding in your chest.

"Hey," he says simply, his voice calm, not as stiff as usual, but still carrying that quiet tone. He doesn’t look surprised to see you, but you can tell he's taken a moment to adjust to you being here, standing in front of him,

You open your mouth, unsure of what to say next. It’s a little embarrassing that you’ve come this far and now you’re not sure what the hell to do with yourself.

“Uh, it’s loud in here,” you say, realizing how ridiculous it sounds the moment the words leave your mouth.

Taesan looks around the room for a moment, as though weighing your observation. “Yeah,” he replies, his voice low. 

You take another sip of your drink, trying to play it cool, but the alcohol’s already got your head feeling a little too light. 

You can tell by the way his gaze lingers on you that he's picking up on something. His eyes shift slightly, scanning you in a way that's more thoughtful than usual. 

"You okay?" he asks, his tone softer now. "You look a little off."

You blink, not realizing that your body has started to sway ever so slightly, the edges of your vision blurring just a little. It’s not like you’re completely drunk, but the alcohol’s definitely made everything feel hazy, and you're suddenly very aware that maybe you’ve overdone it with the drinks.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, but even to your own ears, your voice sounds a little slurred. You smile awkwardly, hoping it doesn’t come off as obvious.

Taesan raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "You sure?" He glances at your drink, and then back to you.

You nod, too eager to prove you're not completely tipsy. "Yeah, yeah, just a little tipsy." You let out a half-hearted laugh, but it doesn’t sound as confident as you hoped.

He seems to be studying you now, his expression unreadable. There's a quiet tension in the air, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said something wrong, if you’ve ruined the moment before it even had a chance to start.

Taesan shifts a little, adjusting his grip on his drink, but doesn't say anything right away.

“Want me to get you some water?”

The offer is unexpected, and you blink at him for a moment, feeling a wave of warmth that has nothing to do with the alcohol. You hadn’t expected him to notice, much less offer to help. It’s the kind of thing you would never have expected from someone like him. 

“Yeah, maybe” You laugh a little, feeling like an idiot now. “Thanks.”

He nods once, then turns away. You can’t help but watch him for a second longer. When he returns with the water, he hands it to you wordlessly. 

You take it gratefully, immediately sipping it to try and clear some of the fog in your head. As you drink, you notice him watching you, his expression still as unreadable as always.

"Better?" he asks, his voice quieter now.

You nod, feeling the cool liquid help clear your head just a little. "Yeah, thanks," you murmur, suddenly feeling a little more grounded.

There’s a brief moment of silence between you two, the loud music and chatter of the party filling the space around you. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how to continue the conversation now. 

You’re not sure what to say next, but for the first time tonight, it feels okay to just be here with him, even in the chaos of the party.

"Thanks," you say again, looking up at him. "I didn’t think you’d care."

Taesan looks at you. “I don’t like seeing people uncomfortable,” he says, indifferent.

You swallow, thinking back to that night again. Was it all just kindness? Had you taken his kindness as a sign that he was interested?

"You don’t seem like the type to care," you mutter under your breath, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

You blink, suddenly realizing the weight of what you just said, your cheeks flushing as you try to clarify what you mean. “I just mean, you don’t seem like the type to care.”

"It's alright," he says quietly. "But it's kind of interesting how you think you know me."

Your cheeks flush even more, a wave of warmth creeping up from your neck to your face as you try to recover from the awkwardness. 

You let out a nervous laugh, “I didn’t mean it like that,” you repeat, "You just seem like the type who doesn’t really get involved, you know?"

Taesan tilts his head slightly, considering you, his eyes never leaving your face. He takes another slow sip of his drink, clearly unbothered by your awkwardness.

"Maybe I’m not," he replies, "Maybe I am."

"You don't have to," you mumble. The alcohol, the proximity to him, and the faint warmth in the air all mix together to make you feel light-headed.

Finally, he lets out a quiet exhale and shifts slightly, lowering his voice. "I guess it depends on whether I want to or not."

Your heart skips a beat, his words hanging in the air, leaving you to wonder if you’ve misread everything. Is he toying with you? 

You take a small step back, the warmth of the alcohol in your veins making everything feel a little more intense than usual. But then doubt creeps in, maybe you’ve been overthinking this. 

Maybe he was just kind to you that night, when he helped you with the books, because that’s what he does. He’s not interested, he’s just being Taesan.

You blink, trying to shake off the feeling, but the more you think about it, the more unsure you become. You had hoped for something more, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. 

"Maybe I’m just imagining things," you think to yourself, the self-doubt sinking in. You’re tipsy, and your thoughts feel muddled. You don’t even know why you’re standing here, talking to him, trying to figure out something that probably isn’t there in the first place.

Taesan seems to notice the shift in your demeanor, but he doesn’t say anything. His eyes stay fixed on you, his posture still relaxed as if nothing’s changed. 

You open your mouth to say something, to smooth over the awkwardness, but the words die in your throat. What could you even say?

You let out a breath and try to shake off the uncertainty, turning back to the noise and laughter around you.

You open your mouth, but before you can say anything else, Rei appears next to you, snapping you out of the moment. 

“Hey! Are you guys having fun over here?” She grins at the two of you, clearly not picking up on the subtle tension in the air.

You glance at Taesan, unsure whether you should continue this conversation or just let it go. 

“Yeah, we are done talking.” you say, as if nothing had happened between the two of you just now. Though inside, you're stung by the harsh realization that Taesan’s help was just a kind gesture, not a sign of anything more, and you can’t help but feel a little foolish for thinking otherwise.

“Well, if you’re done with your little chat, there’s a whole crowd of people waiting to dance. Come on!” Rei grins, linking arms with you. “It was nice meeting you, uhm” 

“Taesan.” 

“It was nice meeting you, Taesan!” Rei says, before pulling you away toward the dance floor, her energy as infectious as ever. 

You don’t dare to glance back at Taesan, trying to forget about him all together. You shouldn’t have been foolish to think he was interested in the first place. 

The rest of the night is a blur, and by the time you’re heading home with Rei, your head’s still spinning from the alcohol, the music, and the confusing conversation you had with Taesan.

You lie in bed later, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it all. But no answers come, only more questions. 

You roll over onto your side, pulling the covers tighter around you, but it does little to ease the unease swirling inside you. The night keeps replaying in your mind, the way Taesan looked at you, his words, the strange shift in the air between you two. 

You had convinced yourself, before, that it was something more, but now it’s clear that it was nothing more than his usual detached kindness.

You sigh, frustrated with yourself. You shouldn’t have expected anything different from him. He’s always been distant, so why would tonight be any different? 

You close your eyes, but the moment when your eyes met his flashes back in your mind. A brief flicker of something, but was it real? Or were you just reading too much into it?

Your heart aches, but you push the thought away. You can’t keep dwelling on this. He doesn’t care about you like that, and you shouldn’t have let yourself hope.

As Taesan sits on his bed later that night, the dim light of his desk lamp casting long shadows across the room, his thoughts keep drifting back to the brief conversation you had at the party. 

He hadn’t meant to make things awkward. But then you’d suddenly shut down, brushing him off with that casual dismissal.

He hadn’t been prepared for that.

His fingers grip the edge of his notebook, frowning as he recalls the way you’d pulled away so quickly, the way you’d told Rei the conversation had ended when it hadn’t. 

Did he say something wrong? Did he come off the wrong way? The thought that maybe he’d hurt you lingers in the back of his mind. He couldn’t figure out why it bothered him, but it did.

Why did it matter so much? He wasn’t the type to dwell on things like this. But here he was, unable to shake the feeling that he might have said something that made you uncomfortable. 

A few weeks pass, and the rhythm of campus life carries on. You and Taesan don’t cross paths much. The occasional glance during class or passing by in the hallways, but nothing beyond that. 

You focus on your studies, drown yourself in textbooks, and try not to overthink things. Rei, Liz, and Mayu keep you distracted, as they always do, but there’s still a quiet part of you that wonders what would’ve happened if you hadn’t pulled away from Taesan that night. 

What if things had been different?

It’s late one afternoon when you run into him again. You’re walking through the library, buried in your phone, trying to find a quiet corner to study, when you bump into him. The collision is soft but unexpected, and you almost drop your phone.

“Sorry,” you mutter, not looking up. Only when the figure you bumped into doesn’t reply do you look up. It’s Han Taesan, but this time his eyes are wide with surprise, as though he hadn’t expected to see you at all.

You freeze for a second, unsure of how to react. Should you just walk away? Pretend like nothing happened between you two?

To your surprise, Taesan speaks first, his voice quieter than usual, as if he’s uncertain of what to say. “It’s fine,” he says, glancing down at your phone before meeting your eyes again. “I didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

You swallow, feeling the tension in the air. “Yeah,” you say nervously. “I was just looking for a place to study.”

He nods, glancing around briefly. The silence stretches between you two, and for a moment, it feels like both of you are unsure of where to go next.

You want to ask him how he’s been, or maybe apologize for being so cold that night, but the words seem stuck in your throat. What if he doesn’t want to talk to you at all?

But before you can say anything, Taesan surprises you by taking a small step closer, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than usual.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, the words coming out softer than you expected.

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of avoiding. It feels like the air around you has gotten thicker, heavier. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you reply, your voice quieter now. “I just didn’t think you wanted to talk after that night.”

Taesan’s brow furrows slightly, and he shifts uncomfortably, looking as though he’s trying to figure out how to respond. 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I just didn’t know how to react when you walked away with Rei so suddenly.”

“I was just confused,” he continues, looking at you more directly now. “I thought maybe I had done something wrong.”

You hadn’t meant for it to come across that way.  You let out a shaky breath, then manage a small, honest smile. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “I just, I guess I assumed you weren’t interested, so I backed off.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. Then Taesan looks at you, his expression unreadable but not distant. The corners of his mouth tug up just slightly. "I guess we're both bad at this, huh?"

"Bad at what?"

"Bad at whatever this is," Taesan says with a small shrug, his eyes flicking over you. "Talking, not sure what to call it."

Taesan shifts slightly, taking a step closer, but not enough to invade your personal space. "I don't know what I was expecting after the party," he continues. "Maybe I thought it would just be normal. But then you pulled away, and I didn't know what to think."

You nod, "I didn’t know what to think either. You were being nice, but I thought maybe you were just being kind, you know? I didn’t want to read too much into it."

You play with the string of your hoodie, slightly tugging at it. All the disappointment and feelings you’ve been trying to avoid come rushing back again now that you’re standing in front of him. 

“Were you just being kind when you helped me with my books? Would you have done the same if it were anyone else who slipped that day?”

The question hangs in the air, and you can feel your pulse quicken. Taesan’s eyes flick over to you, there’s a slight tightness in his jaw, like he's trying to process something that doesn’t come easily to him. 

"I didn’t think about it at the time but now, I don’t know. He exhales sharply, looking away. "Maybe I just wanted to."

You swallow, frustration tightening your chest. This wasn’t how you imagined this conversation would go. You thought maybe, just maybe, there was more to it, more to him. 

But now? Now you don’t know how much more of this confusion you can take. You take a step closer, the two of you being only a few inches away from each other.

"Then why?" Your voice wavers slightly. "Why did you help me at all? Why act like you care?"

“Why help me when you’ve been nothing but cold to me before? When I spilled my drink on you or when we bumped into each other on the stairs on the first day of school?”

As the words slip out, you feel the rush of heat flood your face, a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and something else, something that makes your stomach churn. 

Taesan doesn’t move, but his gaze shifts downward, like he’s avoiding your eyes. His lips part, like he’s going to say something, but he stops himself.

"I—" He starts, but he doesn’t know what to say, his heartbeat thumping in his throat. The lack of explanation hangs in the air, and you can see it now, he doesn’t know why he’s been acting this way. 

Hell, you don’t know why you’ve been acting this way.  You can feel the frustration bubbling inside you now, mixing with that strange, painful feeling that you don’t know how to name.

The way he’s been helping you, acting like he cares, like there’s something more to it, but then he tells you he doesn’t like seeing people uncomfortable? It feels cruel.

“If you don’t know,” you say, your voice more stern than before, “then stop helping me. Stop looking out for me. It’s unfair.”

The air feels thicker now. There’s a brief silence that makes your throat feel tight. Taesan looks at you. His lips twitch like he wants to say something, anything, but he doesn’t. 

Instead, he looks at you, his gaze lingering longer than usual, and for a split second, you wonder if he even understands what you’re really saying, if he feels the same frustration, the same confusion that you do. 

But just as quickly as that thought enters your mind, it fades away, swallowed by the silence. The words don’t come from him. And that’s enough of an answer, isn’t it?

You nod slowly, feeling a mix of disappointment and sadness settle in your chest. “Okay. Fine,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. 

You take a step back, not wanting to stay any longer. You didn’t expect an answer from him anyway, but the lack of one hurts more than you thought it would. 

Taesan stands frozen in place, watching as you turn and walk away from him. He doesn’t know what just happened. Why couldn’t he explain himself? Why did everything seem to come out so wrong?  

He’s never been good with words, but this was different. It’s not just that he couldn’t say his thoughts. It's like something inside him was stopping him from saying what he really wanted to say. 

Then, he catches a glimpse of your hand moving to your face, wiping at your eyes. His breath hitches in his throat. Are you crying?

His mind races, but his body stays rooted to the spot. He watches, almost helplessly, as you walk further away, your back to him now. 

He feels like he got punched in the gut, realizing that he might have hurt you, even though he never meant to. He never thought you’d react like this. Did he really make you cry?

The thought of you being upset, especially because of him, gnaws at him. He feels that familiar sense of discomfort that always seems to follow when it comes to emotions, but this time, it’s more urgent, more real. 

What’s wrong with me? Taesan thinks, his chest tightening. He wonders why he couldn’t simply tell you what was on his mind, why he couldn’t explain himself the way he should have.

For a long moment, Taesan stays where he is, standing motionless. All he can focus on is the sight of you walking away. His heart clenches with a mixture of regret and something else.

He should follow you. He should stop you, say something, apologize, explain everything. His fingers twitch at his side, an impulse to reach out, to stop you. But his feet stay rooted, and before he knows it, you’re already gone.

A few days after your encounter with Taesan, you sit at a corner table in a cozy café, holding a half-finished cup of coffee while your friends, Mayu, Liz, and Rei, sit across from you, chatting amongst themselves.

The air inside the café is warm and inviting, but your mind feels anything but.

Rei is the first to speak, breaking the silence that has settled over the table. "So, are you going to tell us what happened?" she asks, her tone teasing but laced with concern.

“I thought he liked me." Your voice fades, the words hanging in the air. Your thoughts are still jumbled, and every time you try to make sense of them, it only gets worse.

Rei leans in, her usual playful attitude slipping for a moment. “What happened? You guys have been talking a lot lately. I thought everything was fine?”

“Yeah, well, I thought so too,” you say, bitterness creeping into your voice. “But then he just couldn’t explain himself. He couldn’t even reply to me.”

Mayu stirs her drink absentmindedly, while Liz presses her lips together before speaking. “Do you think he realized he made you feel that way? Maybe he didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. He just shut down. It felt like he didn’t care at all. And now, I don’t know what to think. Maybe I read too much into everything.”

Rei exhales, shaking her head slightly. “You’re really overthinking this. Maybe Taesan’s just as confused as you are. He’s not exactly the most straightforward guy.”

“But that’s just it,” you say, your voice rising slightly. "If he cared, why did he stay silent? Why let me walk away without even trying?"

The table grows quiet, and even Rei, who usually finds humor in everything, sits back in her chair, her expression serious.

Mayu finally speaks up. “Maybe he’s not used to being vulnerable. Maybe he doesn’t know how to handle it either.”

Liz nods. “Yeah, I’ve noticed he can be closed off. Maybe he didn’t know how to fix things.”

You frown, not sure whether to believe it. “I don’t know. I can’t keep trying to figure him out when it feels like he’s not even trying to figure me out.”

Mayu’s eyes soften as she reaches over to place a hand on yours. “Hey, we’re not saying you’re wrong. You have every right to feel hurt. But sometimes, people don’t know how to handle their own emotions. It doesn’t mean they don’t care, it just means they’re lost too.”

Rei raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re saying we should give him the benefit of the doubt? You think he wants to make things right?”

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice quiet. “But it’s not like he’s trying to reach out to me. I don’t want to sit here like an idiot waiting for him to approach me.”

A long pause follows as everyone absorbs what you’ve said. Liz shifts in her seat, her fingers tapping gently on her cup. “You don’t have to wait for him. If you want to talk to him, go ahead. But don’t make it all about him making things right. You deserve someone who’s willing to put in the effort too.”

Rei nods vigorously. “Yeah. And if he’s too dumb to realize what he’s got, then we’ll find you someone better.”

“Yeah,” Mayu chimes in, “We all know Rei has got the best connections, right, Rei?”

“Of course! Ask me anytime!” The four of you burst out into laughter, easing your mind a little of all the thoughts about Taesan. 

You're running late, so so late, for a study session. 

As you walk through the crowded campus, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to check the message. It's from Mayu, reminding you of the study group you’ve agreed to attend. 

where r u? 

i’m omw you quickly text back before hastily stuffing your phone back into your pocket. 

You weave through the crowd of students, rushing toward the building where the study group is supposed to meet. 

As you enter the classroom, you're hit with the familiar sight: your friends have already gathered around, scattered across a table, but your eyes immediately find him. Taesan.

He’s sitting at the far end of the table, his usual neutral expression on his face as he flips through a notebook, completely absorbed in his work. You hesitate for just a moment, unsure of how to approach the situation, but quickly shake off the nerves. It’s not like you haven’t run into him before.

You hadn’t exactly expected to see him in the study group. Sure, he was in some of your classes, but you figured he’d be the type to stay away from these group study sessions.

Mayu spots you as soon as you walk in and gives you a little wave. You slide into the seat next to her, trying your best to act natural, though you can’t help but feel his presence like a weight at the other end of the table.

"You didn’t tell me Taesan was going to be here," she whispers with a raised eyebrow, her voice barely audible.

You sigh, already feeling the weight of the situation. “Yeah, well, neither did I. I had no idea he’d be here either.” You glance over at Taesan, who’s quietly working through a set of notes, the soft rustling of paper the only sound between the two of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Taesan’s gaze again. This time, he’s not looking away so quickly. His eyes linger, just for a moment longer.

You try to ignore it, but it’s hard when you can practically feel the tension from across the table. Mayu, sensing the shift in the air, glances over at him too and lets out a small, almost dismissive sigh. “You know, if he really wanted to talk, he’d say something. You’re not the one who needs to make the first move."

You let out a long breath, running a hand through your hair again. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, he’s the one who-"

But before you can finish, you catch sight of Taesan making a quick adjustment in his seat. His fingers briefly brush the edge of his notebook, and he opens his mouth like he’s about to say something.

You freeze, eyes on him, but then nothing happens. He simply closes his mouth, clears his throat quietly, and goes back to flipping through his notes, looking like he’s just as uncomfortable as you feel.

Mayu shoots you a small look. "See? It’s fine. Just focus on the work."

The study group eventually wraps up, and everyone begins to gather their things. You try to keep to yourself, making a quick exit. Immediately as you walk out the door, you’re surprised by Taesan pulling you away from the rest.

“What are you doing? I’m walking back with Mayu.” You hiss at him, annoyed at how he had suddenly pulled you away like this. 

Taesan doesn’t let go of your arm immediately, his grip surprisingly firm but not tight enough to hurt. He looks down at you and back toward the study room, where Mayu and the others are still packing up.

"I know, but I need to talk to you." 

You tug your arm out of his grasp, adjusting the bag that had slid off of your shoulder. 

He hesitates, looking conflicted for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.” He trails off, clearly searching for the right words. "I didn’t know how else to get you alone, and we need to talk."

"You made it pretty clear that I wasn’t worth talking to before. So why should I now?" You retort.

His face stiffens at your words, the usual impassive look falling over his features again. For a split second, he almost seems like he wants to say something, but then he presses his lips together tightly, as though debating with himself.

“I need you to know that I’m not avoiding you, or trying to make you uncomfortable. I’m just bad at this. At all of this." His voice grows quieter with each word, afraid someone else is going to hear.

You’re caught off guard by the vulnerability in his words, even if it’s not quite enough to dissolve the anger and disappointment that had been simmering since you last spoke.

"Why now?" you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "Why are you talking to me now, after all this time? Just because we’re in a study group together?”

"I don’t know," he admits, the edge of frustration creeping back into his voice. "I just... I didn’t want things to stay the way they were. And I didn’t want to keep pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t. Not with you. Not after everything that happened."

Just as the tension between you and Taesan hangs in the air, Mayu's voice cuts through the moment.

“Hey, are you ready to leave?” she asks, her figure appearing in the corner of your vision as she stands just a few feet away, arms crossed as she watches the two of you closely.

Taesan immediately steps back, the space between you widening. You glance at Mayu, grateful for the interruption, even if it’s not quite the escape you were hoping for.

"Yeah, just about," you reply quickly, giving Mayu a small nod. You try to keep your voice steady, though you can’t help it when your voice trembles slightly.

Mayu raises an eyebrow at the two of you, clearly noticing the quiet tension, but she doesn’t say anything further. Instead, she gives you a brief look and then turns, making her way to the door. 

“I’ll wait for you downstairs,” she says with a soft smile. 

You take a deep breath, glancing back at Taesan.  “You should go.” you say, the words coming out quieter than you intended. 

Just as you start to turn away, Taesan’s voice stops you.

"Wait," he says, his tone firm, and it makes you freeze mid-step. You glance over your shoulder at him, your heart racing a little as his presence feels suddenly even more intense.

He’s standing there, hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze avoiding yours for a second before it finally meets yours. 

“I should have said something that day,” he continues, his voice softer than before. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You feel a pang in your chest. His words don’t quite match his usual demeanor, and it throws you off. You’re not sure what to do with this sudden shift in his approach.

He takes a small step closer. “I don’t expect you to forgive me or anything. I just-” He hesitates, unsure, before looking away. “I just wanted you to know that I didn’t mean to hurt you.  And I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you.”

“You’re not the problem here,” he says, almost too quickly, as if trying to convince both you and himself. “I’m not good with people. And I don’t know how to say the right things when I want to. I don’t want you to think I don’t care.”

The version of Taesan you know, the one who could be rude one moment and kind the next, feels so different now. And for some reason, hearing him say it aloud makes you question everything you thought you knew about him.

“Why didn’t you say this sooner?” you ask, your voice shaking just slightly. “Then why did you act like you didn’t care? Why push me away if you knew all along?””

Taesan runs a hand through his hair, he lets out a deep sigh. "I was scared. This is the first time I’ve felt like this,” he admits, looking at you with frustration “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to fix it, but I’m trying.”

You stare at him, trying to process everything he’s saying. 

“Look,” you say, the frustration finally bubbling over. "I’m not doing this right now. You made it clear that you couldn’t figure out how to talk to me before, and now you want to fix it all at once?" You shake your head, unable to make sense of it.

Taesan opens his mouth as if to say something, but you don’t wait for him to speak. Turning on your heel, you walk back toward the door where Mayu is waiting, the tension between you and Taesan hanging in the air like an unanswered question.

As you pass the threshold, you can feel Taesan’s eyes on you, but you don’t turn back. You’re not sure what this is, or if it’s even something that can be fixed. For now, all you want is to be somewhere else, away from this conversation, away from all of it.

Mayu is standing by the door, arms crossed and brow raised, but she doesn’t ask. She doesn’t need to. You nod at her, offering a small, strained smile.

“I’m ready,” you say quietly, and together, you head for the stairs. You’re not sure if you believe him, or if you even want to. But for now, you just need distance.

[mr-affogatos-papers]

Living in the woods, isolated from society, and with Aliens for Neighbours wasn't as worrying as one would think — nor was it any different from living in a city neighborhood, minus the electricity. It was peaceful, a break from society's constant buzz.

The aliens weren't troublesome nor friendly and I kept myself the same. Their otherworldly existence and habits were peculiar and interesting enough for me to keep a track on their whereabouts more often than not. We all did have our personal lives, our habits and quirks. I wasn't one to judge, It ain't my place. But, If I was telling someone about my situation, I'd compare this to your everyday neighborhood. It's like on the rare chance you actually see your neighbor doing groceries, you would look quizzically at them hauling four bags in by themselves --out of which two are filled with only cans of monster or those 0.99$ each stress balls that would pop in a second. You wouldn't really question them, would you? And if you were dragging into your home a box that looks suspiciously like a coffin covered by a blanket, the most that would happen is them offering you help at your pathetic display of strength.

It was the same thing here.

We never crossed paths, usually working at different times and speeds. And on the off chance we did, I did have the decency to act like I did not see them with a 900-pound bear that was suspiciously tame and cooperative.

Though strange, it was peaceful like this. The large area they occupied had all the animals calm and sweet like little pups and cubs. The fear of predators, and the guilt that came with having to shoot 'em when they try to gnaw at me, slowly dwindled away when all they wanted was belly rubs and ear scratches and not my leg to snack on.

So yeah, no predators.

Until now apparently.

The note was a set of scribbles of English, written like a child who just picked up a pencil. But it was big enough for me to recognize the words and that, paired with the metal and another layer of who-knows-what vibrating all around my cabin said enough.

I wasn't one to question it or doubt its authenticity. If danger was presenting itself, and it was something they couldn't placate like those animals, then I'd ensure my own safety with their added protection. I grab the drying meat from the outside rack and the two shotguns I had kept to clean and bring it inside, dumping it by the door as I make my way to the kitchen.

To stay inside for an indefinite amount of time meant ensuring you had the essentials to be able to last so long. I knew I had to restock my necessities soon, do a 4-hour drive to the nearby town and a 4-hour drive back.

8 hours. And the sun was already halfway down. It would be impossible to make it before dark. And it's an unsaid rule to never be out in the dark when you know there's trouble lurking.

I curse as I decide what to prioritize but the moment, I open my cupboards I freeze. It was filled. To the brim. I open another cupboard and then another until all 6 of them are open. And then I open the fridge.

Stocked. Completely.

There was stuff I buy and stuff I don't usually buy. Like the 8 different types of pasta shapes. I don't know whether to be grateful for their foresight or concerned about how they got in without breaking the lock. On the fridge I notice a note written in the same childish handwriting

"It was a matter of urgency. apologies"

Holy pepperoni. I crumple the paper and throw it in the bin as I plan out my next steps. Reload my guns, dry out some fruits and meat, nap for a few hours, and stay on guard for what seems to be a really long time. solid plan. I crash out on my sofa immediately after I'm done with my tasks. Waking up I find out it was unnecessary. Late into the evening, I find a note slipped through the crack under my door, the familiar scribbles highlighting it, "It's safe. You can come out" I'm not the trusting sort, not in the slightest when it comes to believing the danger was gone so soon. But I was curious, so I look out of the peephole and find the fortified defenses around my place gone. I huff, looking back at my note. I didn't hear a single sound of life. I crumble the paper and aim it at the bin, dropping my shotgun on the couch as I walk past. A few more hours of sleep wouldn't hurt.

The aliens you've seen while living out in the woods have rarely been "friendly," but always benign. You have your space, they have theirs, rarely interacting... which is why you knew something was wrong when you found advanced defenses around your house and a hand-drawn warning to stay inside.

[anonyanonymouse]

I feel like I've been struggling to word anything more than usual lately, so bear with me, but I really hope fans can lower their expectations enough before the next update drops. We've had YEARS to build theories and ideas for how book 7 could end, and I'm just worried that everyone will go into it with a checklist of things they want to happen and be really upset when everything doesn't go like they thought it would

TWST can do a very job at throwing out what everyone expects to happen next and doing something totally different, and I'm just worried that it will actually completely ruin some people's experience if Lilia doesn't wake Silver up from a sleep curse or if we don't finally get a Silver Vanrouge line (as much as I do personally want that!!!!)

Now that we're closer to the wire and we have more context before going into the big ending for book 7, we're also getting a lot more fan theories that contradict each other and contradict old theories. The writers would never be able to fit in all these expectations at this point lol!!!

I think it will be a good ending as long as it's funny and sweet and I can take a lot of meaning and interest out of it, no matter how the writers choose to go about it. To be honest, I'm probably overthinking it lol I know it's really been a lot of fun to imagine how they're going to close out the most complicated family drama they could have ever thrown us!!!

[princessofghosts-posts]

Recently realized that demigods at CHB are either rich/upper class or poor/broke by default.

You got Piper,and she is really the daughter of a famous Hollywood's star,she grew up under the spotlight all of her life,full of people that wanted to have her father's attention,and is super rich. She shoplifts thanks to her charm-speaking ability,yes,but she still got the money.

Rachel's the daughter of an important CEO,her family's money got her a last-minute helicopters (and taxis in all the city too-) to fly to Manhattan,in a couple of hours,while she was in a totally different locations. She hates her dad,and her family business isn't the best ecological one,but she is rich.

Annabeth's father is a professor that got his family of 5 (counting Annabeth even tho she doesn't live with them that much) moved from a state to another,Virginia to San Francisco. He might not be Rachel/Piper level of richness,but he is still able to provide a big family with an house in an expensive place and without economics problem. Annabeth is upper class.

Nico and Bianca's family is part of italian old money. Their grandparents were politicians,so was their mother,and they were probably related to someone with a noble title. During the start of the war,only a couple of people,usually the rich one,could travel from a place to another (Maria didn't met Hades in Italy after all). They lived in the Lotus and that place is full of everything you ever wanted,especially with the infinite credit card. Hades is the good of the riches too. They are upper class.

Half of the Aphrodite's cabin,if not full,is probably related to rich or famous people because of her nature. It's impossible she only had Piper that was from a famous actor. Silena and Drew are probably rich too but not on "Hollywood's star" level. (Tanaka is a japanese surname,and japanese families are usually well off,Beauregard is french surname so she is probably french,and most french people have a pretty expensive lifestyle.)

Thalia and Jason's mother was a famous television star that got Zeus attentions twice,so at least the first years of their life they had a good economic situation. She then went insane,and was horrible to her children and Thalia had to live on the street to get away from her (like Annabeth) while Jason got adopted by Lupa.

Then you got Leo that basically jump from a foster home to another,most of which are abusive or mistreat him. The guy lost his mother and the rest of his family hated him so much that decided to hand him to CPS directly. He lives day by day,and probably on the street a couple of time too. He is completely broke.

Percy (before Sally published her book and became a well-known writer,and Paul entered their life) was poor. They had enough to get by with Sally's money,and most of it was wasted on alcohol by Gabe. He didn't had a comfortable life,fortunately now his economic situation is better.

Now,you can discuss that Luke wasn't really poor,but the guy ran away from his mother and spent half of his childhood in the street. And with May's condition I don't think someone would employee her,and if she had a job before she probably got fired.

Ethan Nakamura literally lived on the street all of the time,either because he was doing something for Kronos,or because he didn't had a place at CHB (Hermes's cabin doesn't count).

Half of the children of minor gods/goddesses,and the revolutionaries who joined Kronos,were probably in the same situation as Ethan,if not worse.

Jason lived in a forest with a bunch of wolves. Then at CJ it's not like he had any monetary problem since they didn't really needs money inside the camp. And for any quest to do,I'm sure the romans had a vault,or some sort of safe,to keep money in case it was needed.

Probably majority of the Greeks demigods weren't in a good situation in their finances too,but I personally think that most of them had at least a a life with an enough stable economic situation.

Also,gotta love the parallelism that some of them have:

• Annabeth and Thalia (and Jason) are upper class thanks to their mortal parent's job,but had to live on the streets because their family were shit.

• Percy was poor but after his mom's business skyrocketed,and thanks to Paul's job too,they never had to worry about rent and not having enough food.

• Piper is rich but spent all of her teenager years shoplifting and stealing,trying to get her dad's attention.

• Rachel is rich but prefer to be an activist-artist,with oracle problems because she hates her dad.

• Nico and Bianca are rich,from both family's sides,but were forced to live in "poverty" (I have to desagree on this one because it's not accurate since it was from Percy POV's during BotL).

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞-𝐭𝐨-𝐎𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Gilbert had been acting strangely lately.

Gilbert: "Little bunny, is there anything you want me to do for you?"

Emma: "Again?"

When I arrived at our usual spot with freshly brewed tea and pastries, he set his work aside, greeted me with a charming smile, and insisted.

Gilbert: "I want you to rely on me more."

Emma: "I've relied on you plenty already."

(Just yesterday, for example.)

------------Flashback-----------

Gilbert: "There, I finished drying your hair."

Emma: "Thanks. That felt really nice."

Gilbert: "I'm glad to hear that. So, what would you like me to do next?"

Emma: "N-Nothing, really—"

Gilbert: "What would you like me to do next?"

Emma: "T-Then maybe a shoulder massage?"

Gilbert: "Oh, good idea. You're probably the only person who could tell me to do that."

Emma: "Actually, never mind—"

Gilbert: "Nope. No need to hold back with me."

Gilbert: "If it's for you, I'd gladly do anything—no matter how selfish the request is."

---------Flashback Ends--------

(Lately, he's been overly sweet to me.)

(He's not usually like this, though.)

Gilbert: "Hey, won't you rely on me?"

Emma: "I feel completely content right now."

Gilbert: "Emma, did you forget?"

Gilbert: "You only have two choices: either listen to my request or be forced to."

(So I have to say something, no matter what?)

I set the tea and pastries down on the table and gazed into his crimson eyes, trying to read his true intentions.

Emma: "Did something happen?"

Gilbert: "Right now? Nothing at all."

('Right now'?)

Gilbert: "Hehe, come on, keep thinking. Until you ask me for something, I won't let you leave—cough!"

Emma: "Gil!?"

He suddenly started coughing, so I quickly placed a hand on his back and gently rubbed it.

Gilbert: "Hey now, aren't you overreacting?"

Emma: "Of course, I'm overreacting! I still haven't forgiven you for disappearing on me for days."

Not long ago, Gilbert had suddenly vanished from the castle.

I figured he must have caught a cold and hid so he wouldn't spread it to me, but I'd been beside myself with worry.

Whenever he was suffering, he always kept it to himself, refusing to share the burden with anyone.

That was the kind of cruel yet kind person he was.

(Maybe this whole situation is his way of making up for that.)

(I don't know the real reason behind all this, but I do have one thing I want to ask.)

Emma: "Gil."

Gilbert: "If you're about to ask me to stay by your side forever, that's a no."

Emma: "There's something I'd like to ask you."

Emma: "Is there a way to keep someone who occasionally disappears without a trace by my side?"

Gilbert: "Fufu, of course, there's a way. But before I tell you, how about you show me your method first?"

(That was… surprisingly easy.)

Gilbert ran his fingers through my hair, gently tugging—not enough to hurt, but enough to bring our faces closer.

His striking red eyes locked onto mine, silently urging me to act.

(My method, huh?)

Emma: "Please, don't go anywhere."

The moment I made my plea, looking straight into his eyes, he bit down lightly on my lip.

Gilbert: "That won't do at all. The moment you start begging, it means you're not really trying to make me listen."

Emma: "I just couldn't think of another way."

Gilbert: "That's because you're kind. But remember, the person you're dealing with is a villain."

Gilbert: "If you really want to tie down a villain, you don't beg—you control."

Gilbert: "If you and the villain want totally different things, why let him decide?"

(He has a point, but isn't forcing him to stay too selfish?)

(Asking him to rely on me is just my own selfishness in the end.)

At my silence, he let go of my hair.

Gilbert: "There are many ways to bend someone's will."

Gilbert: "But the methods preferred by a beast like me wouldn't suit someone as gentle as you."

Gilbert: "So, I'll teach you the simplest way—the one that won't weigh on your conscience."

Before I could react, he suddenly stood up, grabbed my wrist, and pinned me down against the table.

(Huh?)

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few papers covered in his handwriting flutter through the air.

But before I could pay them any mind, my vision was completely overtaken by his handsome face.

His lips captured mine, again and again, teasing, coaxing, drawing out a heat I hadn't intended to surrender.

(What the hell is happening?)

Dazed, I instinctively accepted his kiss, only for his tongue to invade, thoroughly claiming every inch of my mouth.

Gilbert: "Make sure you never do this with anyone else, okay?"

Gilbert: "I'd hate to stain you with someone else's blood."

His crimson eyes gleamed with something dark and possessive as he slowly ran his tongue over his wet lips.

Then, without warning, he hooked his hands under my legs and lifted them—leaving me utterly defenseless.

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ Part 3 ╎ Part 4

[dandelionuprising]

I think a fundamental issue is that no direct comparison can be made between the treatments we use for different symptoms. Antidepressants are not adhd meds are not antipsychotics etc etc. I think a lot of movies that show severe mental illness and the effects of medicine, are actually depicting antipsychotics. Which are notorious for being sedating and taking away a lot of your experience, even as they may also take away some of the bad experiences. So as someone who is in the antipsychotics camp of mental health issues, I find that depiction very relatable.

I'm glad OP and others have had a good experience with their meds, but I think it's important to acknowledge that not everyone will have a good experience, and there won't necessarily be a med that will have the desired effect. And that people who don't have a good experience with medication don't necessarily have to keep trying, it's not necessarily the case that the right med is just around the corner. It's ok to be done with psychiatric medicine. It's ok to not want to risk it at all. Psychiatric medicine is far from being an exact science, and it's extremely hit and miss whether it helps. And for a bunch of people, it ends up doing more harm than good.

Depression or adhd or psychosis etc obviously have a basis in the physical realm, arising from biological as well as psychological and social factors, but we don't have a clear understanding of how exactly, and the medication we use to treat them don't pinpoint target the issue. Rather, they are psychoactive drugs with effects that sometimes, but not always, alleviate the distressing symptoms of various psychiatric disorders.

No one gets to define who the "real you" is. You're real with or without the influence of medication, you just have to decide which version you like being the most. I did like what adhd medication did for me personally, but I've also quit, because the withdrawal is intense in terms of making me completely unable to do anything, and I'm not very good at taking meds consistently, so it caused way more highs and lows in functionality than what I was comfortable with. Two of my partners take ADHD meds religiously, and for at least one of them, it's been life-saving. I also know a person who lost 5 years to adhd medication. It completely changed their personality from a quirky, loving nb pal, to functional but distant dude completely out of touch with "his"(?) emotions. They can barely remember those years, and the mother of their children broke up with them during those years because there was just zero emotional availability (they're back together now). Which is just to say that even a generally well loved and effective medication like central stimulants for adhd can have horrible side effects for some people.

Meanwhile antipsychotics are objectively a really heavy hitting form of medication that (more or less subtly) works by sedating your brain so you have less ability to have weird ass thoughts and experiences. I have found that for me, a baby dose way below the suggested amount for treating schizophrenia/psychosis helps me cope and feel better. But when I was on the lowest recommended dose to treat my diagnosis, I completely lost my spark. I slept 15+ hours a day and spent most of my time listlessly lying on the floor or sofa, staring at the ceiling. Several of my close friends have lost years of their life to antipsychotics. And it's really important to acknowledge these types of experiences, while also acknowledging that medicine can be great sometimes.

The two experiences can coexist. And it's important to acknowledge that these are heavy hitting drugs with a lot of potential consequences (all of them, but some more often than others), and to let everyone make their own decisions about what they want to try and what they want to keep taking. One person choosing not to medicate themselves is not an attack on another who chooses to do so, or vice versa.

90s movies: Psychopharmacology is as good as a lobotomy. If you take pills to treat your mental illness it will literally murder your imaginary friends and you will become a boring, lotus-eating conformist drone.

Me after taking my meds: drives the scenic route home to see if there are any geese on the pond and does a little dance in line at the grocery store and comes home to throw everything​ in my fridge into a stew pot because I can finally taste food again while singing songs at my birds in which I replace all the instances of "she" with "Cheese" and doing a Dolly Parton impression on the phone to my sister

[ryusuisloveinterest]

hey girl!! it's been a while,

I've been having massive stanley brainrot, so may I request Stanley x Reader where reader is one of the scientists in the DARPA expo and was also one of the ones who revived by themselves. Reader and Xeno are like close colleagues and Stanley falls for reader??

Also, how do u feel abt dr stone season 4 coming out next year?! I'm sooo excited honestly!!

I’m so this took so long!!!! I’m loving season 4 so far and Stanley is cooking every time he’s on screen😩 I hope you like it and thank you for your patience bestie💕💕💕💕

Stanley x DARPA scientist reader💝

You’ve worked with Xeno countless times, on different assignments, experiments, and whatever else people at NASA do

Though it still took awhile for you to meet Stanley

I believe Xeno would keep his personal life to himself, keeping the line between his life and work very bolded

But one day he invited you to his house to work on some thing together or because he’s let you cross that line 

You both chat for a while with some tea and treats when some grumpyass soldier barges through the front door 

“Guess what they’re doin now Xeno??? They’re cutting down spending for my branch!! Not only that but my men are leaving left and right! That’s some utter bull-“ 

Stanley pauses when he sees you, his eyes in complete awe at the sight of you 

“Oh um pardon me…” he reaches his hand out for a handshake, “Lieutenant Stanley Snyder, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I apologize for that outburst.”

You giggle and introduce yourself as well, “it’s ok Lieutenant Snyder, the government doesn’t treat us that nicely at NASA either”

“Please, just call me Stanley”

Xeno gets the vibe REAL QUICK

He’ll quickly say something like, “oh I need to use the restroom,” or “I’ll go prepare more tea” and just leaves you with Stanley 

After that you’ll see Stanley appear around the office more and more

“Oh sorry y/n I didn’t mean to bug you. Xeno’s office is right around the corner so I thought I’d come say hi”

Xeno’s office is halfway across the building💀

That brings us to the DARPA meeting

Everyone’s discussing the birds and stone and idk what else they talked about lol

But a small break is held

Stanley gives you a drink while you two talk about random things

“Say y/n, maybe after all this shit is over, me and you can go have a little drink together, my treat. What do you think?”

“You better be the one paying, since you’re asking me out~”

A smile breaks out of the soldier

BUT THEN A MYSTERIOUS BIG GREEN LIGHT POPS OUT OF NOWHERE AND EVERYONE GETS TURNED TO STONE😛

3700 years pass when you’re randomly awakened 

You walk around and immediately get a gun to your back

Without fear, you giggle and say, “is this your idea of a first date Stanley?”

His cool helmet falls off and you see the man you’ve waited 3700 years for

He kisses your forehead

“I’ll be sure to make it up to you with much better dates doll~”

You two waste no time in starting to date

Ofc Xeno still need a help working to rebuild, so during the day everyone focuses on working and rebuilding the modern world 

But as soon as the day’s over or works all done, yours his and his ONLY

Like I’m talking bodies constantly touching (whether it’s hand holding, sitting on his lap, cuddling, other things👀)

Always talking to each other, whether it’s deep or not is up to you two

Tries to take you on whatever dates you can in the stone world (dinners, stargazing, crafts, etc.)

While he might cut Xeno off on some of his science rants, but he’d never do that to you 

“Sorry if I’m talking a lot Stanley, I’ll stop it you-“

“No I like your voice, way better than Xeno’s.”

Overall 1000/10 would recommend 

[anamericangirl]

Me and a liberal friend again.

Friend: "If Palestine wins, the conflict's over because there'll be no one else for them to fight, it'll just be Palestine, one nation."

Me: "Yeah, yeah, river to the sea, I've heard it before. Are there still Nazis?"

Friend: "In what?"

Me: "In the world. Are there still Nazis?"

Friend: "Of course there's still Nazis. There's white supremacy movements, there's people like Trump and Musk, there's the KKK, of course there's still Nazis."

Me: "So beating Germany didn't stop Nazis?"

Friend: "Well Germany still exists, that's different."

Me: "So then why don't we just wipe out Germany entirely to stop Nazis from existing?"

Friend: "I don't understand what you're even talking about anymore"

Me: "I'm saying that if you think Israel are evil people and the conflict starts and ends with them, you'll be really disappointed to learn that the only means of fully ridding the world of them is a full and complete extermination, or a genocide. We're currently living 80 years past the Nazi regime, and there's still Nazis, according to you, which means beating them didn't make them just go away because some of them survived and were able to continue pushing their agenda."

Friend: "Yeah but at least for 80 years we won't have Israelis."

Me: "I am just gonna screencap you saying that real quick."

Friend: "IT WAS A JOKE"

Me: "It's always a joke as soon as you're afraid someone's going to see it and think you're evil. Listen, dude, I've humored a lot of stuff that you've said for a long time. I was okay with you calling people who died from Covid 'antivax retards', I was okay with you saying you wished more than one person got shot at the Trump rally, I was okay with you saying that if your mother died you'd be happy because it would be one less Trump supporter, but, I'm finally at the point I gotta just draw the line. You're a very, very unhealthy person and you need help. God help you, I've tried to, and you can't be reasoned with."

I don't normally block people but this guy's been making me really sick for like 6 years now so I made an exception for my own mental health.

Censored out his name but here's that screencap.

YiKeS. And, ironically, it's the people like that who are claiming we're the hateful people and we're the ones who talk like that. Bro needs to take a good long look in the mirror.

[cherry-holmes]

Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña

Chapter 16 (pt. 2)

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: You have many questions. And Javier is terrified about what your reaction could be.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count: +1.9k

Warnings: mmm none, i guess

A/N: PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR TAKE ME SO LONG😭 I was having some struggles in my life, I’m better now if you want to know😁

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Why didn't you tell me about her?"

You asked as soon as you stepped back into the hotel room where Javi was staying. You were curious about the mysterious woman who had almost become his wife, but you didn't want to make a scene. You'd never been the jealous type, unless you had real reasons to be. So you held back, not wanting to accuse him without hearing what he had to say first. It was a very personal part of his life, something that probably hurt him at the time... or maybe still did. But you couldn't ignore the sting in your chest, the need to know what on earth happened between them.

"Because it's something I'm not proud of," he answered honestly, his voice tinged with anguish, afraid of how you'd react. He didn't want to lose you again, so he knew he had to choose his words carefully and be completely open, so you could see he wasn't that man anymore.

"Is it because you regret not marrying her?" you asked, your voice almost a whisper. You didn't know exactly what you expected to him to say. If he did regret it, it would be heartbreaking. But if he didn't, then perhaps it shouldn't matter to you. Or should it?

"Absolutely not," he replied quickly, stepping closer and taking your soft hands between his, gently caressing them.

Then, he told you the whole story: He was very young when he met Lorraine. They dated for a few months, and then she was the one who popped the big question. She always wanted to marry young, and she thought Javi was the one. So he said yes because it seemed like the reasonable next step for a man his age, trying to live up to his family's expectations. But deep down, he knew that wasn't what he wanted. So he left her at the altar.

He continued, "I realized I didn't love Lorraine. I didn't want to marry her. I wanted to do something beyond the police trainee I was doing in Laredo. I wanted to make a difference in the world."

You listened attentively, trying to picture a very young Javi, already preparing for marriage. You kind of understood him. You were also a young girl trying to find your place in the world, feeling the pressure of expectations to marry as soon as possible and start a family. And just as him, you felt the need to knew the world first, to be independent and proud of yourself before tie the knot.

"Marrying her probably would have saved me a lot of shit in Colombia because I probably wouldn't have gone," he admitted, his gaze meeting yours. "But then I never would have met you. So, I'm very grateful I didn't. I would go through all that hell again a million times just to be with you. Just to follow you wherever you want to go. You've brought so much light and happiness into my life, bonita. More than I ever thought I could deserve. Te amo. And I'm sure I want to be with you forever. I do want to marry you, mi cielo."

He couldn't shake the feeling that he had disappointed you. Again. And again. And again. And that there wasn't a single word he could say to repair the damage. Every time you placed your blind trust in him, every time everything seemed to be going smoothly, he messed something up.

Javier had known this for a while, actually. He had even considered not coming for you after Washington. Perhaps you would be better off without him. Javier was a tortured, traumatized man who never seemed to learn his lessons; he had guilt and ghosts chasing him. And yes, you had your own, but he always admired you for being stronger than he would ever be. Resilient, still hopeful in this rotten world.

But he was also selfish. He couldn't even bear the thought of not being with you. The jealousy of you not being with him. His. The mere idea of spending the rest of his days without the touch of your soft skin and the soothing tone of your voice made his heart physically ache. You had power over him, but it doesn't scare him at all. He would do anything for you. Whatever it took to keep you safe, warm, and happy.

And you were well aware of that. You could feel his care and protection over you, like an invisible warm cloak on your shoulders. You trusted him with blind faith despite everything.

Your silence was killing him. He would be on his knees if needed, begging you not to leave him, pleading for you to believe in his love. Javier Peña would do anything you asked, absolutely anything, in exchange for your forgiveness.

"Please, baby," he begged, desperation lacing his tone. "Say something..."

After another second that felt like an eternity for Javi, you opened your beautiful lips and murmured, "It's okay."

But there was something in your tone that didn't convince him. He still felt a weight on his chest. You weren't looking at him; instead, you kept staring at your hands.

"Bonita..." Javi's voice was soft, filled with concern as he leaned in closer, searching your face, his heart pounding with anxiety. But before he could say anything more, you sighed deeply, your expression softening.

"You're nine years older than me," you began, your voice calm but carrying a weight of something he couldn't name. "You've experienced more things than I have. How could I blame you for anything that happened before us?" You reached out, gently resting your hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. "It's part of how things are in a age-gap relationship. I get that."

His breath hitched slightly at your words, relief washing over him, but there was still a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "There's a but, isn't it?"

His voice was tentative, as if he was afraid of the answer.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lower lip. "It doesn't mean it don't make me feel... well, jealous," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "A little." You offered him a small, almost shy smile.

He reached out, his hand gently cupping the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His thumb traced your jawline, sending shivers down your spine as he gazed at you with tenderness.

"You have no reason to be jealous," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, making your heart race. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, his gaze locked on yours, and you could feel the heat rising between you. "I'm yours," he whispered against your lips. "There's no part of me that doesn't belong to you. My body and soul are only yours."

You leaned into his touch, your breath catching as his fingers slid through your hair, his hand resting on the nape of your neck, pulling you toward his lips. There has always been something electrifying in the way he kissed you, the way he touched you, as if he couldn't get enough of you. It was gentle yet possessive and devoted at the same time.

But before anything more could happen, he pulled back. You felt a cold breeze where his warmth had been, suddenly craving his touch and the promise of something more. But before you could even process what was happening, he moved swiftly toward his suitcase, rummaging through it. Your heart skipped a beat when he turned back to you again, holding a small black velvet box. His hands trembled as he opened it to reveal a stunning vintage diamond engagement ring.

"You mean everything to me," Javi said, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know if I'll ever be worthy of you, but God knows how badly I want it to be." His voice cracked, and you felt a surge of emotion, tears welling in your eyes as you looked at him. Damn, how much you loved that man.

"This ring belonged to my mother," he continued, his gaze never leaving yours. "I brought it with me from Laredo. I was planning to propose to you the way you deserve, but... fuck, I need you to know how serious I am. Marrying you isn't something I just came up with. It's something I've wanted for a long, long time." His voice softened as he dropped to one knee. "So, bonita, will you accept me? With my flaws and my past? With all the love and devotion I have for you, will you marry me?"

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you saw his frame kneel in front of you. You couldn't stop the flood of emotions, thinking about everything that happened back in Colombia, everything that happened just hours ago with your family. Everything that had happened in your life since you was just a little girl desperately longing for the loving arms of her parents, arms they never truly offered. You cried for the lack of love in your life.

Yes, you had love from your sisters and your grandparents, but it never quite filled the void your parents had left behind. You had omitted the worst parts to Javi when you talk about your parents. It wasn't just verbal abuse: your mother was physically violent, and when your father drank, he would make inappropriate comments about your and your sisters' bodies. It made you feel ashamed and vulnerable. You didn't want him to think of you like that.

So you cried, testifying his love, because you never felt you were worthy of devotion, and love. If your parents couldn't love you, why would others?

He must have seen the sadness in your eyes, the way your beautiful and delicate features shifted from tenderness to something else, quickly turning to melancholy. At first, he feared your response might be a no - even when you said yes at his first proposal -. But he knew you too damn well, he knew there was something more. It was the same expression you had when you remembered something about your parents or your infancy. He never pushed you to share everything about your childhood; all he knew was that it had been difficult for you and your sisters and deeply painful to remember.

Javier didn't had to say anything, not verbally. His hand reached for yours, and just by his gently, warm and confident touch he made a vow: you will never be alone. He would never leave, or hurt you. His life was yours, and yours were his to protect.

Finally, you nodded, accepting his arms as your shield, his heart as a reminder of what you deserved. You dropped to your knees in front of him, your hands shaking as you whispered, "Si," your voice breaking.

Javi's breath hitched as he slid the ring onto your finger, his hands trembling slightly, and both of you admire the ring on you finger. He'd never saw a more beautiful image. He pulled you close, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tightly against him, as if he never wanted to let go. You felt his warmth, his love, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Your hands tangled in his hair as you pressed yourself against him, wanting to feel every part of him. Javi pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathless. "Te amo," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Para siempre."

NEXT CHAPTER

[splinterofpandora]

Batman is dead.

I know it sounds vulgar.

Oh, you didn't like one comic book and now the character doesn't exist for you. Come on, we go through this every day! Stop clowning, you're not Joker!

But they actually did it in 2023. A year later, I realized exactly what happened. And I think I know how to change it. Hold on, because I'm going to tell you who Bruce Wayne was, and why death was good for him.

Chapter one. This is where the story begins.

Ok, we all know that. The alley. The boy next to his parents' bodies. No one hears his tears. A promise by the bedside. The training. Criminals are a superstitious cowardly lot. The Bat.

We rarely talk about Thomas and Martha because it was never their story. It was the story of a boy who found the meaning of life...no, at this stage, of existence...in fighting Evil. It was 1940s. The early years of The Dark Knight, in terms of plot, emphasized the common person's ability to overcome challenges and help those who cannot defend themselves. At first, the reader saw a “cool and intimidating” costume. The vigilante in action.

However, diving into the text we find that this Frightening Guardian is very...soft. He stays and tends to the victims of crime. Doesn't let people get discouraged. He is feared by criminals. He doesn't mind much that the police can do it either. But he's not an enemy of the society.

Later, Robin shows up. Alfred. Batwoman. Batgirl. The League...

But Batman remains their friend too. And so does Bruce Wayne, who...started life in the 1950s.

Chapter Two. Creating Identity.

Until about the early 70's(I'm using decades for simplicity, the actual timeline is a bit different) Batman's adventures explored the big issues people care about - corruption, war, crime. The wrapping of this was removed from reality. Took the form of evil clowns, spies in funny costumes, even aliens. Comics didn't want to pour complex things over our heads in their purest form.

But the important thoughts, the problems themselves and their possible solutions, along with the dreams of Mankind (flying cars, new discoveries in medicine, exploring the world), have always been the theme of the issue. For this reason, most of the dialog was directed at external things. The characters showed themselves through their actions.

We saw that Bruce can truly doubt, worry, and do crazy things. But he always cares about his young partner and wants to give him the best of what he himself has. Often in his interactions with Dick, Wayne shows pride in his son, his support. Many times he even risked Batman's life to save Grayson. And yes, the idea of separating man and suit, outside of formalities, didn't exist back then.

The idea of a billionaire wasn't a big deal yet, and 99% of the problems were solved by the masked vigilante, while the rich guy was a good cover for gathering information, which he did in the first issues.

Comics and media(audio, animated series, books) that recall this period especially emphasize the moment of complete father-son trust. As the point of supreme discovery of Bruce Wayne's mind. He wants to see a world where people are friends with each other. Openness. Sincerity. Idealism without drifting into absurdity. This is the Bruce Wayne of DC's first 30 years.

Chapter Three. Flowers are better than batarangs.

It's ironic, but with the visual darkness (relative to earlier works), 1970's Knight was the perfect middle ground between Bruce and Batman. The conflict of concepts was not yet seen from the angle of falling into darkness, but made many, not always consciously, afraid of their own protector.

My words should not be taken too literally. Gotham loved him. He openly cooperated with the police. Easily walked through the door of people's homes if invited. However, he could also be tough on crime and move like a shadow. That was troubling. But Batman doesn't cross the line. He's too kind. Everyone knows that.

Bruce is finally the man we know. Playful and frivolous, but the rich who loves beneficial initiatives for the city and its residents by day. And caped crusader by night.

He adores his children, starts many foundations and even a detective agency to help those in need and make police work easier. At the same time, Bruce's personal life is also going well. The authors are constantly looking for the man to be the love of his life, and the idea of retirement with the possibility of helping the world in some other way, without the cape, is increasingly glimpsed in stories about a possible future.

Unfortunately, the picture limit does not allow the narrator to continue his never ending battle, and so he will continue in the next post!

P.S. That and other themed post can be found under BrightKnightUpcoming tag.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

YYAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY

okay hear me out

Jason todd x daughter!reader/gn!teenage reader who basically went through the same torture as him? like idk maybe we got captured by some villains when he wasn't present or something 🙏🏼😔

if im completely honest I'm in need of some angst w/ a fluffy ending 🙂‍↕️ (daddy issues much..........?????????????) love u bro 💕🙏🏼

Flashbacks

Father!Jason Todd x Teenage!reader

wc: 2K summary: You get captured by a past villian, but your father saves you. warnings: angst/comfort, blood, kidnapping, violance, branding scars, no y/n used a/n: Thank you so much for the request!!!! this actually reminded me of another req I did a while ago; Safe Again !! I actually didn't expect for the father!Jason AU to go this well, but I'm not complaining, I'm really glad a lot of you liked it! enjoy this request, thanks again🤗

»For the last time, tell me everthing. Or else I‘ll cut off your head.«

He threatens, squeezing his throat dangerously tight while the cartel leader keeps his wide eyes on the white slits of his helmet, being just as helpless.

The Red Hood is relentless and unhinged in his approach, not letting anyone go without at least one dangerous injury.

He didn‘t know what to do when he woke up from a long nap after patrol and he didn‘t see you at home. You should‘ve been at home a good while ago, and you never mentioned going out with friends after school. He tried checking your phone, but it‘s a lost cause. There‘s no way to track you down or find your last coordinates.

It‘s been almost two days and he finally found a lead. A smaller warehouse, located near a place he forced himself to forget about. Even now, staring at the big screen of his computer, he hopes this is all a bad dream. It��s more difficult to focus, but he forces himself to get over his inner turmoils and save you. To bring his baby back.

The warehouse was easy to find once he got there, uncomfortable memories flooding through his mind again, making him tense up further. There weren‘t as much guards around, making him doubt that this is the correct location. But he was desperate. Desperate to find you, to bring you back to safety. He doesn‘t want to imagine what could‘ve possibly happened to you during those two days, when he couldn‘t find a single trace of you.

It was scaring him.

He doesn‘t want to fail like…

God, like Bruce did.

But this is real, and it feels like you are already slipping through his fingers. These past two days felt like the longest time in a while. He couldn‘t sleep, didn‘t eat, he focused entirely on finding you again. On getting his baby back.

Jason tenses up at the sound of chains dragging against concrete. It‘s a small sound, but enough to draw his attention and make him grow slightly more paranoid. His feet drag him towards the sound, the hall growing darker as he approaches the main area of the warehouse, being lighted up by a faint bulb at the middle of the ceiling.

He finally reaches the big room, the sight of you making his breath hitch. It‘s like a giant punch to his lungs, he can‘t seem to breathe properly as he takes you in, seated on a chair, hands tied up into the air, head hanging low.

His head jerks to the side once another figure appears, dragging a chain behind him, eyes focused on him like a hyena stalking its prey. But this time, it‘s not Red Hood who intimidates a poor mugger. It‘s somenone who he is familiar with, but can‘t seem to recognise him entirely at the same time. There‘s something different, as if it‘s not exactly the same villian he expected to see.

»Red... hood. How unexpected. Yet predictable. Of course you‘d go after poor children, wouldn‘t you?«

»What did you do?«

Jason hisses back, drawing his gun out and pointing to the copy cat. But the other person doesn‘t seem to be threatened, putting his hands up in mock surrender, chuckling lightly at him, amused.

Your head continues to hang low, seemingly unconscious. Jason keeps his eyes forward on the threat, not daring to look at your beaten body just yet.

»Oh, I think you know it best.« The copy-cat shoots back. Jason‘s blood runs cold. His grip falters ever so slightly on his gun before he finally charges forward, violantly pushing him on the ground, beating the heel of his gun into the other‘s face repeatedly.

He won‘t let the same thing happen to you. You are innocent. You never got wind of his nightly activities in Crime Alley and around Gotham, at least he never told you about them. He didn‘t want you to know the details, even though you are old enough to know about them.

»You—« another hit, »should‘ve—«, another one, »died,«, one final hit to his head, »a long time ago.«

The copy-cat of Joker can‘t help but laugh quietly under him, despite his jaw being locked unnnaturaly. Jason‘s gun is pointed on his forehead, pulling the safety off as he takes a trembling breath.

»I‘ll show you what‘s funny,« after one final breath, Jason pulls the trigger, landing several bullets into his head.

The warehouse grows quiet, leaving Jason with his own feelings. He stares back at the lifeless body under him, the familiarity to Joker making his skin crawl. Finally, he pushes himself off of him, packing his gun back into his holster. His gaze settles back on you, still unconscious on the chair, clothes a bit shredded, your arms chained up into the air.

His stomach churns at the sight, but he keeps it together, approaching you and carefully freeing you.

Your wrists are burning red from being chained up for so long, you body sagging forward once they are free from the chains. Your form is thinner, dark circles under you eyes, hair messed up slightly.

He coos quietly as he picks you up into his arms, making sure not to press on any cuts or bruises. And finally, he brings you home, setting you down on the couch of the living room. He notices you waking up slowly, eyelids fluttering open.

You can feel the aches settling in your body again, your head pounding from all the hits you had to take earlier. Jason stays kneeled down in front of the couch, his hand gently stroking over you head.

»You‘re safe, angel. I‘m here.« His voice quiet and gentle, eyes soft as ever.

You hear him exhale heavily before hugging you carefully, leaning over your weak form on the couch. His heart clenches as you try to hug him back, your hand falling back on the couch, feeling the aching stings through your muscles.

Jason takes a deep breath, forcing himelf to get it together and stay composed in front of you. You need someone to rely to right now, and he would do anything to make you feel safe again.

»Let me check on you, okay? I‘ll fix you up,« his bigger hands let go of you, carefully moving you around a little to examine your weakened body. He notices light cuts along your body, mostly bruises along your soft skin.

You wince once he turns you on your side, immediately letting go and trying to find the source of pain.

»Where does it hurt, hm?« His expression grows more worried, waiting for you to tell him what hurts, already prepared for anything. You gesture at the side you laid on just now, pulling up your shirt a bit to reveal the larger wound.

Jason takes in the branding scar, clenching his fists tightly. The branding scar seems to be some kind of symbol of the copy-cat, revealing a bright smile with chunky teeth. He runs his hand through his hair before he stands up, making his way to find his first aid kit. The apartment grows quiet again, only interrupted by your light winces of pain and steadying breaths to keep the pain under control.

He manages to patch you up fully, making sure that nothing can get infected. You watch him get back into his bedroom for a moment before returning a moment later, handing you over one of his hoodies. He helps you to sit back up on the couch, watching as you stubbornly put it on yourself without any help.

»I‘ll make us some dinner. Want something special?«

He kneels down in front of you again, taking your hand in his to brush his thumb along your knuckles, ready to take any request you‘ll make. You shake your head a bit, accepting any kind of warm meal you will receive.

Eventually, Jason gets to the kitchen and starts making your favourite, letting you stay in the living room with your favourite childhood show playing on TV. Jason lets his thoughts wander while he cooks, letting himself spiral a little in the comfort of his own home.

He keeps comparing himself to Bruce, telling himself that he dodged a big bullet by finding you in time. The fact that you could‘ve died without him knowing, without being able to save you…

The vegetables gently simmer in the pan as he keeps quiet, trying to think of lighter things. With a heavy sigh, he hopes you won‘t hold the same grudge against him, like he does with Bruce. He saved you, he got you back, you won‘t hate him… right?

Jason finally serves two plates for the two of you, entering the living room once more. He notices the way you sit curled up on the couch, surrounded by fuzzy blanket, drowning in his big hoodie. He smiles fondly as he hands you over your plate, sitting down beside you, making sure he doesn‘t accidentally hurt you.

The familiar show brings a sense of nostalgia in him, remembering the early days when you were just a small child, when you had dinner together every evening, and giggled over funny scenes and jokes in the show. But now, you are a little more grown up, barely sixteen years old, sitting beside him after getting rescued.

You finish up your plate after a while, laying your head back on his shoulder. A familiar safety you‘ve grown used to.

»You know I will always find you, right? I will always protect you.« He mutters softly, keeping his eyes trained on the TV.

You listen to him, deciding to stay quiet as he finally shows a more vulnerable, more raw side of him. As his child, you never saw many strong emotions from him, having been helped with yours instead. He always tried his best to understand your emotions and help you get through them, especially when puberty hit you pretty hard. Still, it‘s strange to see him be so open about his thoughts and feelings.

»I know I should‘ve been there to protect you— but I wasn‘t… and— and I will make sure to always be there from now on.« He finishes his small monologue, but you aren‘t as emotional as him. You simply train your eyes on him, speaking up for the first time

»You were always there, dad. It‘s not your fault.« You tell him matter of factly, not having the energy to have a long heart-on-heart with him right now, especi ally after such a hearty meal, making your eyelids heavy. Jason notices your growing tiredness, recongising your familiar character come back to the surface. He keeps his arm wrapped around your shoulders, squeezing gently.

»Okay, I‘ll keep quiet.« Jason promises as he actually grows quiet, allowing you to finally relax further and enjoy the comfort of the home.

Some time goes by before you manage to slip into a light sleep, dozing off against his shoulder as if it‘s a soft pillow. Your father smiles faintly to himself as he notices, letting you fall into a deeper sleep, before carefully picking you up and settling you into his own bed. He remembers the time when you were younger, too afraid to sleep in your own big room, still freshly taken in by him.

Your body stays relaxed and safe in his covers, his hoodie still on you, drowning you in, keeping you safe. Jason decides to stay awake, being unable to fall asleep still. He uses the time to clean up in the kitchen and have some more time to process what happened exactly. He knows Bruce will eventually find out about everything, he still killed the copy- cat in the warehouse, after all. Just another way to get lectured by Bruce, as if he hasn‘t heard it enough times already.

Sitting down by the kitchen island, he picks up his phone in forever, searching a certain contact. The dial tone rings quietly through the kitchen until the other person on the line picks up, letting out a soft grunt of acknowledgement.

»Hey, dad...«

←MASTERLIST

taglist₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆. @143637-hrrm @dollyure @ibreathesmut @dreamzaremyrealityy @lunana98 @pitofrats @joonunivrs @reallycreativeusername @oneiropoloss

[xemylixa]

I myself must confess that, with fictional characters, I kinda alternate between judging them as characters (in which case they're tools to tell a story, so anything goes so long as it arranges itself in an interesting pattern), and as people (in which case holy shit get away from me the lot of you!), with very little in-between, lol.

So, from this latter idealistic perspective, I must note the fact that Kmicic paid an eye for an eye and judge him for it, even though I understand his motivation just fine. It's how my brain works currently. I absolutely understand what you meant, though. I just can't commit to such a sentiment myself, if you know what I mean.

Kmicic's saving grace is, indeed, that sincerity you noted (I've no idea how he even lies with such cunning - that Charisma score allows for some insane Deception checks! sorry for the D&D lingo, it's true tho). And, particularly, a vital interpersonal skill that it allows him to have and that I learned the term for recently - accepting influence. Once Oleńka's cutting words land and make him think about where he is in life, and this brick wall of "I'm awesome and doing the right thing! :D" allows a trickle of bitter truth through it - there is no turning back. (Especially when it's Michał - this time it's a peer saying that; and Oleńka is still a woman. Kmicic is a horrible snob and that never really changes. The Tatars, like you said... yuck. Oh, and he kidnaps her - I think we're all really quick to forget that one! He completely escapes responsibility for a lot of things. I'm salty about that. Anyway...)

The same acceptance of influence, I think, becomes a core belief of "I need help, and I need guidance", as opposed to "I'm always right and if I'm not the worse for the facts". He knows he hasn't got it all figured out - and so he staggers like three different times between different lords. (Eventually landing on The Right One after literally the same thought process that got him into Radziwiłł's trap... because of course the problem was "whom to serve under" and not "what do I personally believe in", riiiight author? :D I despise feudal morality with all my being, by the way; does it show?)

And that would be why he acknowledges Kuklinowski as a possible reflection of himself - because he no longer thinks he's above all this. Also, Kuklinowski was "his biggest fan uwu", and by now his very existence only reminds him of the darkness within himself that he's only just sort of conquered (with strict guidance, again).

I'm not sure Kmicic is actively afraid of this still being his future. I think it's mostly a symbolic way to get back at his own past, now that he knows how horrible it was.

...I used to be better at writing concise essays, I swear. This just ran away from me. You put it a lot better than I could.

czemu ta scena jest taka silly

be who you are

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

hi i just wanted to say i LOVE lovelovelove how you write and how you keep your headcanons of how these ghouls would act as partners pretty damn realistic as compared to other writers ive read from. also i HEAVILY enjoy how you write dear old joshua graham and explore how him being a legate for ~30 years would affect his mentality. like yes hes god fearing and tries to do right by the bible but he was also the meanest bitch for a long time that evil doesnt just leave you once you decide to pick up a bible again. it has made me think about him in a whole new way and most of the ways i think about him now are even more debauched than before and for that i thank you. youre amazing never stop writing and sharing your writing! and i hope you recover quickly and as painlessly as possible from your covid

This is so sweet! Thank you so much. I do try hard to incorporate a lot of realism into my ideas (as much as one can have in a post-apocalyptic sci-fi setting, that is), mostly because I think it makes them at least a little easier to connect to. But I believe it also helps to distinguish the characters who don't get a lot of lines/screen time from one another when you make them feel a little more real.

I totally understand why fans who hate Joshua hate him, but he's just far too interesting a character in terms of his history and his perspective for me to not be at least a little obsessed with him. Plus, you know, the way he's clearly oozing that special brand of religious sexual repression and/or personal fear of intimacy that eventually leaves you a foaming-at-the-mouth freak. That's the shit I like, tbh.

I'd argue that one of the things that fuels Joshua's inner debauchery the most is how vehemently he denies it even exists. Yes, he admits to being an overtly bloodthirsty and angry person in the past (and I think he'd be pretty frank in divulging that he still deals with anger every single day), but how could he deny it? There's historical record of what a shitty, violent person he's been in the past. His personal perversions, however, he can completely deny the existence of as long as he can keep them under wraps/ignore them. It's when he meets someone who makes that denial difficult or impossible that things get both sexy and very messy.

There's no way that man wouldn't resent you at least a little for making him so horny all the time, even if he really likes and respects you as a person. More likely he'd resent you a lot. Joshua gets angry with you, not because of anything you've done, but because you prove to him that he's failed to purge himself of his uglier characteristics, those he deeply wishes he could just pray away: his punitive jealousy, his lust, his desire for control. He wants you deeply, but you also torment him.

Anyway, I'm never upset to hear that I've made someone look at a character differently (but in, like, an off-beat horny way). Thanks for reading!

[rifulofthewest]

I don't understand what his objective is now and what he is doing. He is teaching kids for a mission from mycroft.. Does that mean he is in MI6 ? Or is he working for America now? What his role now? Could you talk about in depth please

Of course!!

I'm not 100% sure, but it's information that we have at the moment.

I will first briefly summarize what we know about William's current position and then add screenshots & more text :

1. The American government allowed William to return to Britain, but did not let him go completely.

2. William does not work for MI6, he works with MI6 (he's probably "legally" still works for the US Department of Justice + Pinkerton agency)

3. MI6 uses William as a Google drive for their documents

4. His main goal has changed from «showing people how corrupt the elites are and destroying corruption» to «protecting people of the British Empire from big threats»

William's new role in the MI6

A friend of mine called him "the first version of a Google Drive" and I absolutely love this analogy

The context of the now-burnt classified documents are preserved in this brain without a single omission

Using what's recorded in my brain to steer you all towards the truth

...as the mind of our organisation

Basically:

William reads all the documents, uses his super-intelligent brain to memorize everything in them -> MI6 burns the documents -> William pulls all the details they need (from past cases) from his memory when asked

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

They even put a chair for him away from everyone else so that during secret MI6 meetings he could see everyone at the same time + memorize all the details of their conversations without having to turn his head to the person speaking

Working with MI6, not for

" It's the job you set up for him, director "

" .. the director... even taking personal responsibility for the risk of letting him [William] move freely around the town "

" Mr William is currently on loan to Great Britain "

" Before mobilising MI6, Mr William and The Director cast a net.... "

If anything, William works for Mycroft now. Not for Louis (MI6)

It's not surprising. William always ran ahead of everyone with his plans, and Mycroft should be smarter than him... so why would Mycroft pass up the opportunity to put intelligence of Liam's caliber to good use ?

+ William's constant presence at MI6 missions would put Louis' leadership position in question. In my opinion, having William somewhere on the sidelines cosplaying as a database — when he's around MI6 — is a good decision

In Chapter 79, Mycroft even calls Fred out, saying that he now possesses evidence of Mycroft and William secretly working behind Louis' back for a whole month, yet he has chosen not to report it to MI6

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

But William found a way to get more involved with Louis: backing up MI6

Nobody asked him to do so

This is where the difference in Louis and William's approach to problem solving comes into play:

Louis starts thinking about problem solving when a specific problem appears

And William is ready to spend an entire night thinking about what problems might arise and how to potentially solve potential problems

I feel like I said a lot, but it didn't really mean anything 😬

In the end, we have Liam who started progressing on the drug problem a month before Louis & the others caught the dealer in chapter 77 ...because a priest came to Mycroft to consult about an alcoholic father beating his son, and Will thought it might be drug-related (and was right) + got a job at the school where the son of this "alcoholic dad" is studying to get more information about the father from his kid