#BECAUSE I WILL DO IT IF NO ONE ELSE HAS DONE IT YET

[jiangshiu]

hyun-ju x reader — braiding her hair ˎˊ˗ ⋆.˚

her hair is tangled, nowhere near as styled as it was upon her arrival.

your fingers gently thread through the brown mess — the texture is not as brittle as you'd expected, pleasant to the touch just enough that you want to keep your hands buried in it for just a while longer.

so, for a few more minutes, you allow yourself to slack off, to enjoy the feeling of hyun-ju's surprisingly soft locks. she doesn't utter a word as you play with and twirl her hair, not even when you accidentally tug at the ends a bit too roughly.

it's only when you pull away, about to start working on your masterpiece (or in other words, the braid) that she finally speaks up, her voice quiet, timid, “...i've never had anyone do this for me before. thank you again.”

her confession makes you pause. for a moment, your brain struggles to pick an appropriate reaction. you want to express pity, console her, ask her more, but you'd rather not open any old wounds.

instead, you settle for the simple truth; “in that case i'm honored to be the first one to do this.”

with that said, you finally get to work. you divide hyun-ju's hair into three neat sections, interlacing the strands together. you take your time, treating each piece of the braid like it might break if you as much as twist it the wrong way. every piece falls into place perfectly like a puzzle as you intertwine the dark locks, your pace intentionally slow, leisurely.

a shaky breath slips through hyun-ju's lips, her shoulders slinking back a bit as she lets herself succumb to the gentle motion of your hands. despite not being able to see her face, you're certain her eyes are closed, drowning in the sensation.

“if...” you start, nearing the split ends of her hair, “when we get out of here, i think we should try out more hairstyles. and get ourselves some cute hair accessories. oh, actually, we should go to the mall and buy some pretty clothes as well! what do you think?”

it's like you can hear her lips curl into a small, appreciative smile, “i'd like that,” she admits.

“there,” your fingertips follow the length of the braid — it's far from perfect, a few stray strands sticking out here and there, but something tells you hyun-ju won't really mind.

she turns around to face you. her black eyes carry a hint of uncertainty, like she's unsure of herself, “thank you,” she repeats, “it means a lot.”

the reluctance in her voice is loud and clear. she doesn't want to lose this precious moment of serenity just yet. because neither of you know when you'll have the opportunity to do something like this again, if there truly is a chance for you to escape this hellhole.

“actually, hold on, i'm not done yet.”

for the final touch, you tuck out two strands at the front. curling each strand in between your index fingers to give them a temporary wave, you catch hyun-ju's eyes slowly trailing down your face. she seems to be absolutely entranced by you — from the way your lips are pursed in concentration, to the kindness in your gaze that nobody else here has bothered to show her.

“you're watching me like a hawk,” you tease her with a toothy smile, tugging on one of the strands lightly.

that seems to pull her out of her trance-like state. she blinks a few times and looks down at her hands in her lap in shame, nervously clutching at the fabric of her sweatpants, “sorry...”

“don't apologize,” you shake your head. you fluff up her bangs a bit as you continue, “i don't mind it if it's you looking at me.”

hyun-ju clears her throat. a faint blush dusts her cheeks as her fingers brush against her new hairstyle, careful not to dishevel it, “how do i look?”

your smile brightens.

“as beautiful as ever.”

[hurgablurg]

Yeah the laughability is the point of works like Dune and 40k. Or was supposed to be. Humanity is 40,000 years into a hyper-death-nazi-catholic future embroiled in a losing war against the rest of the galaxy. Trillions die every day due to clerical errors because documentation is still done with paper and quill and has to either be flown on courier spaceships so massive that 90% of the crew were born aboard and have never seen a window in their lives despite half the ship being a cathedral of stained glass looking out over space, through space-hell to be stamped for approval in the meat-servitor-closet of a subterranean office within a lost temple within the Earth-wide Vatican city, or sent through psychic AOL where every message has a 10% chance of exploding the "phones" into a horde of demons. The original point was parody of fascism, and by extension a parody of scale. It's so impossibly huge and frankly STUPID that you can scarcely wrap your head around the scale of it's casual and "grimly dark" cruelty.

Dune is meant to confuse and enchant you, 8000 year timeline included. The main character is named Paul and yet he becomes a giant cocaine-fuelled space worm in charge of the only planet capable of producing space fuel (which is also cocaine only used by a guild of airliner pilots). So much is meant to be alien and familiar at once, where the dumbest things become human legacy across centuries of slavish devotion to tradition. There is a space warrior named Duncan Idaho.

The point of far-off chronal settings with such little change like this is to both ground you with something a little familiar, and make you ask "They're really still doing THAT? Despite doing THIS? I cant wait to see how else these future guys have fucked up."

Not everyone can just dive into and understand a more-accurate rendition of 100,000 years post-hence, every single one of which is high concept xenofiction written like a white boy got high and read the Vedas then did his best to copy the translated writing styles of thousands of authors and editors all at once.

Meanwhile Fantasy stories with thousands years old precedents ARE silly, even with ageless characters; at least until you remember that religion is just sorta like that (complete with miscontextualusations and bastardization of translations). Then it becomes a little easier to understand that they present history as a doctrine. And nationalism that uses ancient "history" as casus belli for very modern wargoals.

starting an elite paramilitary black ops group who sneak into the homes of authors and cut one to three zeroes off any number of years given in a fantasy or sci-fi novel

[monster-effer]

Syntribation | Clenched Thighs Save Lives – Sylus x reader

Summary: You have an interesting technique to get off. It is not something you’re ashamed of, but it has caused friction in past relationships. But you’re with Sylus now, how will he handle this part of you? Content: MDNI, suggestive and sexual acts mentioned, hurt (past) and comfort, fluff, Sylus and reader are dating (~900 wc) A/N: This is for the girlies that get off via syntribation! It’s a topic that’s near and dear to my heart and something I have yet to see mentioned in a fanfic. I tried to envision how Sylus would react to a reader confessing that this masturbation method is the only way they get off. There is more dialogue than usual because I am trying to work on improving that skill. Enjoy <3

It’s not that you don’t want to be intimate with Sylus, because you really really do. You just feel too worried to even attempt such a feat due to what it takes to get you off. Your preferred and only way to reach your peak is extremely specific, but nothing else works for you.

You’ve stuck to masturbating this way since you experienced your first orgasm and have had no urge to change.

Until now.

Until him.

Sylus was a breath of fresh air. He was everything you could want in a partner. He was ridiculously tall, gorgeous, witty, protective, and he never misses an opportunity to build up your self-confidence. He was a walking wet dream.

It was painful to avoid his advances because of your insecurity. And lately, the excuses you give to delay the inevitable conversation are starting to make you cringe.

“I’m on my period.” “My stomach hurts.” “I just got a call from work?” “I sense a wanderer nearby!”

Currently, you both were laying on your sides while smooching in Sylus’ massive bed. It was a cozy weekend morning and you two were still in your pajamas. You reluctantly pulled your lips away from his before it could get too heated. Another silly excuse was on the tip of your tongue. But before you could get it out, Sylus interrupted you.

“Kitten…I’ve noticed that you shy away when I attempt to be more intimate with you,” Sylus says slowly.

Sylus is a patient man, but it seems the more time he gave you, the farther you ran from him. He is also an observant man, and he can see and feel how much you enjoy kissing him and having him caress your body. But something is holding you back and he’s going to find out what that is.

Your heart is racing as you sit up, lean against the headboard, and let out a sigh. “Is that so?” you ask as you begin fidgeting with your fingers.

Sylus sits up against the headboard with you and holds one of your hands. “Yes. I would like to know why or if I have done something wrong. The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Have you ever heard of syntribation?”

Sylus tilts his head to the side as his eyes are trained on your face. “I can’t say that I have. Care to enlighten me?”

You feel your hands get clammy and your face warms. “Well, syntribation describes how I masturbate. It is the only way I can reach orgasm.”

You take in a shaky breath before continuing. “In simpler terms, I usually clench my thighs and other muscles to reach orgasm.”

You begin to speak faster, forcing the words out. “Which makes it hard for me to orgasm during sex. Past partners have given up trying to pleasure me entirely because it is ‘too difficult.’ And in the end, it left me feeling broken.”

“But I don’t want to feel that way with you Sylus. I’ve avoided everything past kissing and fondling because I’m scared.”

The silence in his bedroom is LOUD and you begin to worry that you overshared. Before you can conjure up another excuse to flee you feel Sylus let go of your hand and take a gentle yet firm hold of your chin. His hold directs your eyes back up to his and you see a tender smile on his face and lust darkened eyes.

“Kitten, this is what has been holding you back? You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” you ask in a hushed voice.

“Not at all,” he says simply. He lets go of your chin now that your eyes are focused on him.

“In fact, I would love a demonstration of this syntribation. I have so much to learn.”

You feel the familiar, fearful heaviness in your stomach at his suggestion. “You don’t need to do that!” you blurt out.

“No kitten, I insist. I already have a few ideas that I want to try with you, but I need to do my research first,” he smirks at you before pulling you onto his lap and your head down for a kiss. Both of his large hands rest on the sides of your face as your lips meet.

You wrap your arms around his lower back and eagerly press your lips against his. A soft moan leaves you as you feel your bottom lip being sucked into Sylus’ mouth. And you feel yourself soften onto his tongue.

Kissing Sylus is always a sensual experience but today feels unique. Like he can’t get enough of you.

As you continue to kiss, you feel his tongue brush against the seam of your lips and you open them for him. His warm tongue caresses yours as he begins to explore your soft mouth.

You melt further into the kiss and curl your tongue around his. Sylus pushes you back slightly so he can trail his hands down your body, to rest on your hips. Your breath hitches when you feel your breast bounce as you’re jerked backwards.

You maintain eye contact with him as you lean in towards him and place your left hand against the headboard. Your right hand slips behind his head so you can thread your fingers through his white, silky hair before firmly pressing your lips back against his.

Sylus uses his hold on your hips to press you down and rock you gently against his hard cock that you can clearly feel through his thin pajama pants. You whimper into his mouth as you pull away, this time for a new reason.

With a mischievous smile on your face you ask, “Are you ready to start researching now?”

[z0mbiew00d]

I feel like we don’t talk about how much of a parallel Wild Life Gem and Double Life Pearl are.

Both are in their second season, and aren’t really sure how the games work yet. Both made very close allies in their first season (Pearl with Scott and Gem with Pearl) only for it to turn sour and the next season they turn from them and go off alone or with someone else.

At the start of Double Life Pearl was left alone, Scott having sworn her off and her later doing so in return, and at the end of Secret Life Pearl chose her mounders and Scar over Gem, leaving Gem distraught in a similar way Pearl was in Double Life.

Where Double Life Pearl is completely alone and spirals, Wild Life Gem has Joel to fall back on and refuses to forgive Pearl, similarly to how Pearl refused to forgive Scott at first.

Neither know how these games work yet, and while everyone else allows for these betrayals, and alliances, to end after a season (minus Cleo and BigB and Cleo with Scott but that’s a special case), so they take these “betrayals” to heart and both turn angry and bitter to the opposer in their situation.

But that’s also why Pearl is so confused at Gems claim of betrayal and abandonment. In Pearls eyes she’s done nothing wrong, she stayed loyal to her chosen allies and stuck with them to the end, expecting next season to be a clean slate.

Yet that’s exactly what Scott did, choosing Cleo as his ally and expecting his alliance with Pearl to be done after Last Life. They would’ve been friendly still had the watchers not forced them to be soulmates, and similarly to Flower Husbands would’ve probably made jokes and comments about Last Life. But because of the games mechanics, things didn’t end up that way.

Idk I just think it’s fascinating Pearls ended up so similar to Scott despite him traumatising her so much during Double Life, she’s turned around and done similair thing to Gem.

Little newbies with so much love in their hearts, not understanding how dangerous and disastrous these games are. Just how damaging they can be to one’s heart and soul.

[antianakin]

So the thing we have to start with is that the more chip lore we've gotten, the less they have made sense. Even if we only look within the context of ONLY the films and TCW seasons 1-6, it can't just be based on what the clones think because otherwise Anakin would be fucked when he went to go lead them into the Temple. There HAS to be some sort of programming in there that excludes him from being killed and lets the clones know that he is no longer a Jedi. It can't just be that anyone with a lightsaber and use of the Force counts, because then Palpatine counts, too, obviously. So there needs to be a bare minimum of programming that allows for specific people to be EXCLUDED from the Order, this much is required. I generally just assumed Palpatine explicitly made sure the Order would never target himself or Anakin somehow.

But this programming is fucking wonky as hell the more we learn about it. Because suddenly in TCW season 7, Ahsoka gets counted as a Jedi automatically and Rex is incapable of using logic to convince the clones to let her be EXCLUDED based on a technicality. Which... okay, so I guess it's anybody with a lightsaber and Force sensitivity except Palpatine and Anakin perhaps, this still generally works. And then in TBB season 1, Wrecker's chip gets activated via head trauma and suddenly he's also targeting Omega, who... isn't Force sensitive and doesn't use a lightsaber. This is never explained, especially since she's explicitly said to not be Force sensitive later in season 3 (although I'd be willing to admit that this could've been a change made when they got cancelled partway through season 3, but also how does the chip somehow KNOW she's Force sensitive when she doesn't actually do anything with it visibly and Wrecker wouldn't have that knowledge even if it was true). And then in TOTE with Barriss, the clones just say "be glad you're not a Jedi" which seems to imply that it's her status as someone who's left the Jedi Order that is saving her from being killed.

These three instances DO NOT ALL WORK TOGETHER. You can make the argument that it only targets Force sensitive people, but then why target Omega (who isn't Force sensitive) and not Barriss (who is Force sensitive). You can try to argue that it will target any Jedi past or present, but then why would it target Omega. You can try to argue that it targets enemies of the Empire, but Omega isn't actually counted that way yet (Nala Se wants her BACK, no one's trying to kill Omega at this point) and Wrecker doesn't target the other Bad Batch members, JUST Omega. You can try to argue that maybe Palpatine has like added Barriss to the list of excluded people for Reasons, but then why would he have added OMEGA onto the list?

It wouldn't shock me if the writers for TOTE just didn't know about what was done on TBB and didn't care and weren't consulting it, but it should AT MINIMUM make sense with what was established in TCW. And if they were going to BREAK with what was established in TCW, the least they could've done was explain why (Palpatine knew she'd gone dark and so made sure the clones knew not to target her somehow).

(I don't think the writers of TBB gave a shit about continuity and everything else was written so badly that their addition to the chip lore being contradictory and stupid is completely expected, and therefore easily ignored, but it does still technically count as canon chip lore.)

Something that's less canon (might even be Legends, I'm not sure and I'm too lazy to look it up right now) is a comic where Darth Vader is chasing down Jocasta Nu at the Temple very early after Order 66 and some of the Coruscant Guard see him and his lightsaber and his use of the Force and start shooting him because they assume he is ALSO a Jedi and therefore must be killed (theoretically whatever exclusion existed for Anakin isn't being applied to him when he's in the Darth Vader get-up and doesn't look like Anakin anymore).

So how does the chip know who is or isn't a Jedi? It's never once been explained to us, and the few implied explanations we've gotten have been contradicted more than once. It might not even be only targeting Jedi ALONE, but anyone who is visibly Force sensitive. MAYBE Palpatine intentionally added Ahsoka to the list of people to be killed, or maybe he intentionally made sure Barriss was on the list of exceptions, but neither of these is actually explained to us or even implied to be true.

So how do the chips actually identify which people are intended to be killed via Order 66? Take your pick, I guess. Generally I stick with what works best within the films and TCW which is that the chip likely targets anyone who is visibly Force sensitive, wielding a lightsaber, and is known to be a Jedi, but with special exceptions for Palpatine and Anakin (and any Inquisitors are likely caught by people who AREN'T clones). This allows for Ahsoka to be caught up in it and unable to get out of that on a technicality. I don't like TBB or TOTE, I think they're both exceptionally badly written, so I'm just discounting them as stupid additions to the lore that don't make any sense. If you decide that you DO want to count TBB or TOTE into your canon, you might just have to accept that there now is no good Watsonian explanation for why the chips work the way they do in all of these different scenarios and the explanation is that the various writers simply did not give a shit about keeping the continuity straight between all of them.

There was an entire major plot element in the Order 66 arc of TCW season 7 about how the chip didn't care that Ahsoka wasn't technically a Jedi anymore and was forcing the clones to want to kill her anyway.

Like.

It's a pretty important part of that whole story that Ahsoka not being in the Jedi Order anymore DOESN'T exempt her from Order 66. It would've been a pretty boring story if that technicality had WORKED.

But somehow the clones guarding Barriss at the prison are totally fine applying that technicality to her.

I guess they just like her better than Rex and the 332nd liked Ahsoka in the end or something. Ironic.

[velvetvexations]

I’m. So baffled by that one dude saying that trans men being able to pretend to be women is a privilege, because in his tags he says that it’s a thing specific to transmascs. Does he mean pretending to be cis as a means of safety is a transmasc specific thing?? Because uh, I’m… pretty sure that’s something that can be done regardless of a trans person’s gender? There are transfems and nonbinary people who can also pretend to be cis [whatever their agab was], too?

Its also not a privilege. Having to hide what you are out of fear isn’t a fucking privilege lmao

strangely people understand that when it's about trans women

just saw a post on my dash saying "'infighting' is a dogwhistle which frames transfems as aggressors". i really hope the tide is turning like you said, bc this shit is getting exhausting and im still seeing it from random people i follow who otherwise gave no indication that they drank the koolaid.

they make me out to be the aggressor all the time!

Nazi imagery anon here

These are the pics I was referring to.

As you can see it’s posted on the verified border security account and you can see two different nazi symbols on him :(

yeah it looks like standards for what they allow soldiers to adorn themselves with are low and the person taking and posting the pics aren't paying good enough attention because that guy also straight up has a naked anime bitch on his knife sheath

as I said this is an individual thing and they need to start knocking their heads together like the Three Stooges and sending them into trenches first

You know who saying that th**fab is actually a storied term that trans fems have been using to identify transmisogonists is fucking insane like girl that's such obvious lie give us nothing

they aren't even trying

It’s crazy how almost every other day on this site I see a new post with like 50k notes talking about how absolutely NOBODY deserves to be harassed, sent death threats or be put on blast yet once again I’m seeing people trying to justify the harassment of another transmasc teenager. Honestly people should just start openly admitting Tumblr is becoming increasingly hostile towards trans masculine individuals, I don’t see clownery on this level on any other platform-

Tumblr...is really bad.

I think the reason why this whole headcanons discourse bothers me so much is that is really is just fuelled by petty spite. Like all these characters are cisgender in canon. We make headcanons because it’s FUN to expand on characters in ways that reflect our different life experiences in whatever form that may take. Intentionally going after transmascs, especially young transmascs, for doing this with characters like they like and accusing them of all these different things genuinely does just feel like bigotry. Who cares if a head canon may not make the most amount of sense? It’s a cisgender fictional character we’re playing around with! Why does it have to be some grand act of activism to say blorbo number 3 is transmasc? We have much bigger fish to fry here.

exactly it's such dedication to not letting anyone else have anything

So sick of people acting like trans men are the same as cis men under the patriarchy and moreso im really sick of the "you're privileged to not be surrounded by men". Like, for lack of better phrasing, saying that about a group of people that is generally perceived as "failure women" pre transition (and sometimes during and post) is a little tone deaf. All about acknowledging how women and people perceived as women are harmed by misogyny until the ones perceived are men. Gender essentialism is ugly and tasteless and nonsensical. Please feel free to delete this im just rambling without a point

rambling is okay anon <3

„wow ur so privileged to not fear men”

i fear the fucking everyone asshole, i just realized that isnt everyone elses fault so i should still treat them with respect !!!!!

that woman called me a "self-hating doll" and I hate the second part a lot more than the first

[tiramisuucakeee]

STRANGER ★

( reader x park sunghoon )

IN WHICH: park sunghoon feels like he’s drifting away from his girlfriend, but after one night, she’s a stranger again, or perhaps she has always been. even if they were relatively close, they were still very far.

read more !

silence enveloped the dark hot room, as thoughts were more than enough noise. park sunghoon laid next to you, above your blue bed cover, a hand resting under his head, as he turned to look at you.

his eyes felt like they were burning, but they weren’t warm enough to break through the barrier you had set up. in all honestly, you didn’t know why he still tried in the relationship, why was he still here?

“y/n…” he started, but you were quicker to turn him down.

you rolled over in your bed, in nothing but a shirt and underwear, your hair still managing to look neat, as if you had just gotten home. “i’m going to take a shower,” you let him know, as you opened your closet, taking out a small strapless dress and a pair of heels.

“you’re going out?” sunghoon furrowed his brows, sitting up, leaning on his two arms.

“yeah, i told you before. just because you’re here doesn’t mean i’m going to cancel my plans,” you laughed incredulously, glancing at your bed-side table, where a clock sat at, reading the time. “you should go.”

sunghoon then spoke again, stopping you from escaping to the bathroom, “can’t you just stay a few minutes with me?” he asked, more like begged. it’s all he had been doing lately, feeling as if you were escaping from his grasp.

“you wanted to come over sunghoon, if you want to stay here for the night or something… go ahead. i’m probably going to sleep somewhere else or get back in the morning,” you threw him a smile, and before he could say anything, you disappeared into the bathroom.

the shower head started running with water, as your dirty clothes dropped to the ground, that only made sunghoon wonder when had this all started, not your relationship, but your un-relationship, if you could call it that.

you were so loving at the start, so kind and accepting, in his opinion, everything was perfect. so what happened that made you pull away from him. was it something he did? something he said? he couldn’t recall any evil done from his part.

it al brought him back to the day you met him.

sunghoon entered the rooftop at school, away from his lousy friends, wanting to eat lunch in peace, not having a feral niki attacking him, or hearing heeseung and jake fighting over basketball.

as soon as the door closed behind him, he immediately regretted it. the rooftop was occupied by you, staring at the sky.

“sorry… for interrupting, i’ll leave,” sunghoon immediately spoke.

you didn’t even turn to look at him, as if he was nothing but a random passerby. but you opened your mouth before he could leave, “why do you always run away from me?”

in all truthness, sunghoon was in love, and he didn’t know why. you weren’t his type. you weren’t quiet, reserved, or dressed very nicely. but there was something about you, like you were someone important.

he noticed himself starting to fall in love when his friends asked who he looked for in the halls. he noticed he started to fall when he was interested in what types of treats and movies you liked.

everyday, it was like you were there. he saw you on the patio, when he looked out his window in class, outside the gym, near your locker, exiting your homeroom. you were always there, he saw you.

but you never once saw him as someone. you did notice a guy running away nervously everytime you were near, or making the impossible to not bump into you. and you knew more than anyone what it was about, still, his reaction was weird.

“come sit,” you said. you weren’t any kind of monster, not yet. so why did someone that liked you, ran away from you. never has someone had the guts to refuse you, if he did, he had to have a pretty good reason to.

“okay,” he muttered, slowly walking over, sitting down next to you. for the rest of the hour, not a single word was spoken.

he didn’t feel the need to say something, because you letting him sit there, was all the validation he needed, it was everything he craved for. but you, only kept him there because there was not a reason not to, he wasn’t lousy, he didn’t bother you, and he didn’t try anything weird.

and so, it was like a silent agreement that you two were always together. sunghoon would follow you around like a puppy, his bag slung over one shoulder, and a hand in his pocket. while you went about your day, not even speaking a word to him.

then when he asked you out, you accepted. maybe out of boredom and because your mother accepted him first or maybe because you could have felt something, there was still that tiny bit of chance that you did like him.

“ah, you’re still here, i thought you’d leave,” you came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your body, noticing he was sitting in the same position you left him, like a dog waiting for him owner. “sunghoon, you are allowed to leave, you know?” you raised a brow, and when you didn’t get a reply, you sighed, starting to change into your clothes.

sunghoon’s dark eyes followed your moves through the dimly lit room. even now, after years of ‘being together’, he was starting to realize that he knew all of you, but you didn’t know a bit of him. it was like he was always around for you, never the other way around. but what if he said something about it? would you finally get rid of him like he heard you’ve been wanting to?

“what do you want for breakfast tomorrow?” he asked. sunghoon didn’t give a damn if you wanted him out. he was going to fight for whatever relationship you have, because after all, he still loves you.

“uh, whatever i guess..” you muttered, putting on the heels, “okay, i’m done,” you stood up, clapping your hands, and turned to him. “so you’re staying after all right? can you receive an online order i got? it’s getting here tomorrow morning,” you asked, receiving a nod.

“okay then,” you confirmed he would do as said, and grabbed all your belongings, walking out of your room. right. when was the last time you ever said ‘love you’ or ‘goodbye’ to him. if something were to happen to him, would you feel bad? would you then start to appreciate him?

the silence hung in the air like a thick fog, heavy and suffocating. sunghoon watched you leave without a second thought, as if he was nothing more than a background detail in the story of your life. the door clicked shut behind you with finality, and he exhaled, his chest tightening with a pain that had become too familiar.

he hated how the love he gave you, the constant attention, the patience, it all seemed so invisible to you. why was he so loved by everyone else except you? you didn’t care to know what he liked, dislike, what sunghoon did in his free time and so. it was like he was just your shadow.

“will you ever see me?” he murmured, his voice barely audible in the empty space. the words fell into the void, unanswered.

the phone rang, a harsh, intrusive sound in the middle of the night. sunghoon’s body jerked awake, disoriented, his heartbeat already racing as his eyes flicked to the clock. 4:03 AM. his hand shot out instinctively to grab the phone, the screen flashing your name, and for a split second, his mind was filled with nothing but relief.

maybe you realized that you’d actually want to be with him. it was something he wished for, though it was weird. you never called him. maybe you needed something, or maybe you just got confused and dialed the wrong number. still, it warmed his heart that you could have drink called him.

but when he answered, it wasn’t you. it was another voice. he was used to you hanging around other men and going out with them, but this voice would never do something like that.

“sunghoon, it’s jungwon, y-you need to get here now!” jungwon’s voice was ragged, barely holding itself together. "you need to come to the hospital. she’s going into surgery.” he informed. it was likely that jungwon was dropping off something for his father, who was a surgeon, and suddenly came upon this.

his pulse stuttered in his throat, the words not quite registering at first. his mind spun with confusion, scrambling to latch onto something solid. "what? what do you mean? what happened?" sunghoon’s voice cracked as he pushed himself up in bed, his body stiff with panic, every fiber of his being already alert, bracing for something.

it should have been wrong for him to care about you, cause you never once did for him. if sunghoon were to disappear tomorrow, you’d probably notice when someone asked. but he couldn’t bear to have you away, not like this, not so sudden.

jungwon’s voice faltered again, like he was struggling to find the right words, or maybe even the strength to say them, he was always empathetic with his friends. "she was in a car crash. it’s bad, sunghoon. really bad. the others… they didn’t make it. she’s the only one… but she’s unconscious, and-"

a sick, metallic taste rose in sunghoon's mouth. his heart felt like it was stopping, like time itself had frozen in that one endless second.

"is she…?" sunghoon’s voice broke again, barely more than a whisper, like he was afraid to even speak the possibility aloud. the fear gnawed at him, crawled up his spine, twisted his stomach into knots.

"she was alive when they got here, but then she passed out. i don’t know how long it’ll be… or what’s going to happen." jungwon’s voice cracked, as though he too were barely holding it together. "you need to come, sunghoon. now. she might not even wake up."

the words hit him like a punch to the gut.

not even wake up.

sunghoon’s mind went blank. his hand trembled as he clutched the phone, his grip tightening until his knuckles ached. his chest felt like it was being squeezed by invisible hands, the pressure unbearable. the thought of you, lying motionless in a sterile hospital bed, surrounded by machines that would keep you alive but never truly bring you back, it was too much to comprehend.

"i’m coming," sunghoon’s voice was steady, but it felt like a lie. he was scared. his body was moving before he even realized, stumbling out of bed, legs shaking as he forced himself to stand. his mind was reeling, spinning in circles as the details swirled around him. car crash. surgery. you. you.

as he rushed out of the apartment, the cool night air did nothing to calm the raging storm inside him. his heart was racing, but it wasn’t just fear that gripped him. it was an unbearable sense of guilt.

in that moment of desperation, he finally understood why he cared so much. sunghoon had always watched you from afar, you never had anyone apart from yourself. never a true friend. everyone was a passerby in your life, and perhaps he was one too, but he had been determined not to be. he wanted you to have something real, someone who you trusted, someone you could rely on.

how many times had he put his own feelings aside, his own love, only to be treated like an afterthought? hadn’t he given you everything? he had waited. he had waited for you to need him, to come to him, to want him in a way that was real. but all that time, all that patience, did it matter now? was it too late for him to matter?

the hospital felt like a nightmare. everything about it was wrong, bright fluorescent lights that felt too harsh, cold hallways that smelled of antiseptic and despair. sunghoon's feet carried him through the corridors almost mechanically, his mind still reeling from the call.

you’re alive. you are in surgery but alive. every step felt heavier than the last.

he found jungwon near the entrance, his face pale in despair, eyes hollowed with exhaustion and grief. he didn’t speak at first. he didn’t need to. the unspoken words hung between them like a thick, suffocating fog. jungwon was somehow similar to sunghoon, although he didn’t want to force you to be his friend, he thought you deserved someone who was close to you. but not in that way. he didn’t approve how you basically stomped on sunghoon’s heart for free.

"she’s in there," jungwon finally said, voice quiet, strained. "my father came out some minutes ago, they… they’re doing everything they can. but sunghoon… her chances aren’t good."

his eyes flicked to the door leading to the intensive care unit, and sunghoon felt a sickening twist in his stomach. he stepped forward, but then, for a fleeting moment, doubt clouded his mind.

he couldn’t afford to let it consume him. he had spent too long waiting, waiting for you to finally see him, to love him, to understand. he had given you everything. everything.

but now, as he stood in front of that door, staring at the sterile room beyond, he couldn’t help but wonder, would it matter?

sunghoon hadn’t left your side. he couldn’t, even as the hours bled into days, even as the doctors had whispered about the “long road ahead” and the uncertainty of your condition. every beep of the machine was a reminder that you were still here, but not the same. not you. it was a shell, waiting for your consciousness to come back.

and then, one morning, after days of waiting, after nights of restless pacing, you woke up.

sunghoon sat in the sterile hospital room, his body aching from the hours he had spent perched on the edge of your bed, his eyes never leaving your still form. the steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound, a constant reminder that you were alive. but in some ways, you had already slipped away. he held your hand, his thumb brushing over your cold skin as if he could transfer the warmth of his love into you through touch. but it never worked.

the harsh hospital lights felt like they were closing in on him, their cold glare a sharp contrast to the soft warmth that had settled between him and you over the years. your eyes fluttered open, blinking as though you were still trapped in the fog of sleep. at first, he thought it was just another moment of consciousness, another brief flicker of awareness before you slipped back into the darkness.

but then you looked at him.

then, you had blinked slowly, confused, your eyes drifting across the room. your gaze never settled on him with warmth. not with affection. you didn’t even seem to notice the familiar face sitting by your side, the hands that had held you for so long, through all the arguments, the rejections, the coldness that you had never apologized for.

your eyes remained dull, vacant, as if you were waking from some distant dream, only to realize you had no idea where you were, or who was standing at your side.

"hey, it’s me," sunghoon had whispered, his voice breaking, trembling. he had felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest, his hands shaking as he reached for yours, desperate to make you feel loved. "i’ve been here… i’ve always been here for you. the whole time.”

but when you looked at him, it was like you were looking at a stranger. your face was blank, your eyes empty. and then, just when his chest tightened with the growing weight of fear, you asked a question that shattered him entirely.

“where’s my mom?” you said, your voice soft, distant.

his heart stopped. the world around him blurred.

your mother. sunghoon’s throat went dry. his pulse sped up, panic seizing him. he could feel the world start to crumble around him, the pain swallowing him whole.

"where is she?" you asked again, your voice more insistent, the emptiness in your tone turning to something else now, something deeper. "are you a doctor? i want to see her. why isn’t she here? she has to know i’m okay, i don’t want her to worry." you spoke, urging him, not even asking why you were in a hospital bed.

it had been years. years since she died, right before your graduation. years since you stood in front of the casket, holding his hand, eyes brimming with tears. he had been there for you when your world had fallen apart, when the grief had swallowed you whole, even if you’d known him for such a small amount of time. that had been the only instance he had seen you let your emotions out around him. the only time he had seen you actually care for someone. and now, she was gone, for the second time.

sunghoon’s stomach dropped as he realized it.

you didn’t remember her death. you didn’t remember how hard you had cried that day, how the world had felt like it had fallen apart when you stood alone. now you were asking where she was as if she were just gone for the day. as if your whole heart hadn’t crumbled the day you lost her.

and the worst part? you were asking the question, but you weren’t asking him, the one person who had been there for you, to help you understand. you were asking him like he was a stranger, a figure in the background.

his heart squeezed painfully as his breath hitched in his throat. “y/n…” his voice cracked, but he forced himself to continue, his eyes welling with tears. "she’s gone. your mom… she’s been gone for so long. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, but she’s… she’s never coming back."

at that, something in you seemed to break.

something raw. your lips trembled as your gaze dropped, and your hands began to shake slightly. it was the second time he had seen any sign of emotion from you. your expression hardened for a moment, then softened, and before sunghoon could react, the first tear slipped from your eye.

he watched, in stunned silence, as the single drop fell, and then another followed, and another. and then, your body trembled, your chest heaving as a deep, broken sob escaped you. the sound broke him, cracked through the shell of numbness that had been surrounding you, and in an instant, you were crying, completely unraveling in front of him.

you didn’t remember the pain you’d gone through when she left you. but the truth of it, the horror of knowing your mother was gone, hit you with a brutal force now.

sunghoon stood frozen, his heart breaking in his chest as he watched you collapse into grief, your body shaking violently with sobs. the sight of it tore through him. the rawness of your sorrow was more real than anything.

you were grieving her all over again. you were grieving her, but this time, you were alone. even if you hadn’t cared about him, he was still there. now, he was a complete nobody to you.

sunghoon’s hand hovered, trembling, over your shoulder, desperate to offer some kind of comfort, some reassurance. but he hadn’t expected what happened next.

as his fingers brushed against your skin, you flinched violently, pulling away from him as though his touch burned. your body jerked in a sharp, panicked movement, your breath quickening as if he had just committed some unspeakable betrayal.

"don't fucking touch me!" you screamed, your voice raw, frantic, full of a sudden, terrifying rage that sunghoon wasn’t prepared for. "what did you do to her? what did you do to my mommy?!" you looked like a little kid, lost in a store, full of despair, alone, abandoned.

the words cut through the room like a blade, the accusation hanging in the air like a toxic cloud. sunghoon recoiled instinctively, the weight of your words crashing over him, leaving him stunned, speechless. he could barely process the intensity of your pain, the sheer volume of the fury radiating from you.

you were trembling, your eyes wide with fear, with anger, tears streaming down your face as you turned away from him, trying to scramble back in the bed, as though the very sight of him made your skin crawl.

"tell me what you did!" your voice cracked, jagged with despair and confusion. "what did you do to her? why did you, why did you let her go?!”

it was as though a switch had flipped inside you, a madness born from your trauma, your loss. you had lost your memories, but you were still trapped in the suffocating grief of a daughter who couldn't comprehend the finality of death. the very foundation of your identity was crumbling. and now, in this panic-stricken haze, sunghoon became the focal point of all your rage, all your hurt.

"why isn’t she here?" you clawed at the sheets, your hands shaking with the intensity of your breakdown. "where is she? i need her! now! what did you do?!”

your voice echoed in the sterile room, the frantic energy in your words tearing at the walls, until the room felt too small for the fury you unleashed. you were looking at him now, not with any recognition, but with venom, as if he had been the one to tear your world apart.

sunghoon stood frozen, his heart hammering in his chest. it was a punch he hadn’t expected. the weight of your accusations landing on him with suffocating force. he opened his mouth to speak, to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. how could he explain that you didn’t even remember your mother’s death? how could he make you understand that he wasn’t the one who had taken her from you?

his eyes welled up with fresh tears, but he bit his lip to hold them back, shaking his head desperately. "y/n, please. i didn’t do anything. i’m not, i never hurt her," he said, his voice cracking with the weight of his own sorrow. he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to calm you, how to help you make sense of the pain that was consuming you.

but the words didn’t reach you. you weren’t listening anymore. the madness in your eyes was too much, too overwhelming, and your voice only grew louder, more frantic.

"you’re lying! you’re lying to me!" you screamed, pulling at your hair, your face contorted in anguish. "you’re trying to cover it up! you’re lying! you’re lying!"

the madness in your eyes was suffocating, and sunghoon felt helpless, absolutely powerless to do anything but watch as you spiraled, consumed by grief and fear. you don’t remember her, but you remember the pain. you remember the loss. and now you’re looking for someone to blame.

the room felt smaller, air thinner, suffocating. he wanted to reach for you again, to hold you, to tell you that he hadn’t done anything to hurt you or your mother, but you were too lost, too far gone in the grip of your overwhelming grief. he took a step forward, but before he could get any closer, the door to the room flew open.

several doctors rushed in, their voices immediately cutting through the madness.

"we need to sedate her," one of them said urgently, his face a mask of professional concern. it was jungwon’s father. "she’s going into a severe emotional breakdown. we need to calm her down now before she hurts herself."

"no!" you screamed, your voice cracking with pure terror as the doctors tried to gently restrain you, to keep you from thrashing about. "don’t touch me! don’t touch me! just being my mommy please! i need her! what’s happening?!" you begged, being ignored constantly.

the doctors moved quickly, efficiently, as they administered an injection to calm you down. you screamed for a moment longer, your body still writhing beneath their hold, but the sedative began to take effect almost immediately. your breathing slowed, your cries turned into soft sobs, and the frantic movements of your body slowed to a near-stillness.

sunghoon stood in the corner of the room, numb, his entire body frozen as he watched the scene unfold. his hands shook violently at his sides, his chest tight with a crushing weight of despair. you were no longer the girl he had once known. you were a stranger, lost in a storm of confusion and grief, and there was nothing he could do to bring you back.

the doctor turned to him then, their expression sympathetic, but firm. "she’s experiencing severe memory loss due to the trauma of the accident. we’ll need to run more tests, but she’s clearly in distress. she’s reliving her grief, and it’s manifesting in these violent outbursts. her mind is trying to make sense of what’s happened, but she can’t understand it. she’s lost."

sunghoon’s knees buckled, and he sank into the nearest chair, his head falling into his hands as fresh tears poured down his face.

you didn’t remember him. you didn’t remember your mother. if you didn’t remember both. there was no one else in your life. you were completely alone.

you were lost.

you were slipping away from him, piece by piece, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. because you would have never let him. he didn’t care if he was important enough to be remembered, that didn’t matter anymore.

the room had gone eerily silent, the only sounds the soft beeping of machines and the faint rustling of the doctors movements. sunghoon could barely breathe through the suffocating weight of the situation. he had always known that losing you would break him, but he hadn’t realized how completely it would shatter him until now.

his eyes were fixed on you, still lying in the bed, sedated now, but your face was a mask of innocence, frozen in that moment of pure loss. you looked so young, so fragile.

the doctors were still in the room, their voices quiet but filled with a clinical understanding that sunghoon could barely grasp.

“she’s in an acute state of dissociative amnesia,” doctor yang explained, looking at the chart in his hands, speaking to sunghoon but also to the team around them. “it’s not uncommon with traumatic injuries like the ones she sustained in the accident. but we’re also seeing something else.”

sunghoon’s gaze flickered to the familiar doctor, confused and lost in a fog of grief. his throat was tight, his mind struggling to make sense of what was happening. “what else?” he whispered hoarsely, his voice broken.

“the trauma to her brain has caused a significant regression,” the doctor continued, his voice softening slightly, as if trying to cushion the blow. “she’s reverted back to her mental state from when she was in her senior year possibly. she’s essentially lost a part of herself. emotionally and cognitively, she’s been pulled back to that time. before all of this. before everything that’s happened in the last few years.”

sunghoon felt his chest tighten at the words. senior year? back to senior year? the words felt like a cruel joke, a twisting knife in the very heart of his memory.

“how is that even possible?” he asked weakly, his voice trembling. “how could she… forget everything? how could she forget me?… scratch that, she doesn’t even remember her mother.”

doctor yang gave a slow nod, clearly understanding the pain in sunghoon’s voice. "it’s common in cases of severe trauma," he explained. "in some cases, the mind protects itself by essentially 'erasing' the time that feels too painful. for her, that means the death of her mother, and perhaps… everything that came after. it’s as if she’s rewound the clock, mentally returning to that phase in her life. the person she was when she was 17."

sunghoon couldn’t move. he couldn’t think. his world had just collapsed in on itself.

“her emotional development since that time is disconnected,” the doctor continued gently. “she’s essentially stuck in that version of herself. the girl she was before all the trauma, before the grief of losing her mother, before all the years you two have spent together. she may not even remember who you are, or if she does, it might be as some vague figure from her past, someone she used to know.”

the words felt like they were smothering sunghoon. his heart pounded in his chest as the doctor’s voice seemed to echo in his head. the girl she was when she was 17.

that girl, the one who had barely spoken to him beyond pleasantries, the one who had brushed him off time and time again, the one who didn’t seem to see him for the years he spent loving her. that girl who knew he would walked behind her every day.

a sudden coldness washed over him. there was a difference between you at this age, and you in high school. back when you were 17, you were an emotional wreck, everyone’s feelings were a game to you. and even if you still had some of those traits now, no amount of mean comments would take away the years he had been by your side.

“is there any chance she’ll come back?” sunghoon’s voice cracked with the question. the word ‘come back’ felt like the ultimate lie on his lips. come back from what? as if you were totally different to him.

the doctor looked at him with sad, tired eyes. "it’s difficult to say. memory loss from trauma like this is unpredictable. she may remember parts of her past, pieces of her life, or she may not. but it's important to understand that right now... she’s not the person she was. she’s stuck in a moment of her life that’s far behind, and all the years since then. your relationship, her grief, everything. are inaccessible to her. it’s like waking up from a dream and finding that nothing has changed, that you’re still in the same place you were before."

sunghoon’s stomach twisted painfully as the words settled in, cold and harsh. you didn’t remember anything. from the years that had passed. your mother’s death. your shared time together. your love, his love for you.

and now, you were a ghost from the past, frozen at the moment when everything had seemed relatively simpler, when your heart hadn’t yet been broken by life, when the world had yet to show you how much pain it could cause. the girl you had once been, so egoistic, so unknowing. and yet, somehow, so much more alive than the hollow shell of yourself that lay before him now.

sunghoon let his head fall into his hands, his whole body shaking with silent sobs. how did we get here? why is this happening? he had fought for you for so long. he had been there when no one else was. he had endured your coldness, your indifference, always telling himself that one day, you would realize.

but now, standing in this sterile room, staring at the broken version of you who couldn’t even remember her own mother, he wondered if he was even real to you anymore.

you were lost to him. and in so many ways, he had lost you long before the crash. but this was a pain unlike anything he had ever felt. you had always been distant, but now, you were gone entirely, unable to see him as the one who had loved you, as the one who had held you when you cried, as the one who had always been there.

"you don’t remember me," sunghoon whispered to himself, as if speaking the words would somehow make them less true. "you don’t remember anything. you’re just... gone."

the doctor’s words seemed to fade into the background as sunghoon stood there, overwhelmed by a wave of emotion so deep it almost consumed him. you had finally slipped away, and there was nothing left of the person he had loved so desperately.

and for the first time, he realized that even if you woke up, even if you remembered, even if you somehow found your way back to him. it wouldn’t change the fact that you never once felt love for him.

the sun was gentle, casting soft golden rays through the canopy of a massive tree. its branches reached wide, stretching into the sky as if welcoming the warmth of the spring day. the ground was dotted with delicate flowers, the air crisp with the scent of new life, the kind of serenity that only spring could offer. you were sitting underneath that tree, the soft breeze playing with the hem of your dress, your fingers grazing the grass beneath you. everything felt still, yet alive. an ethereal peace wrapped around you like a gentle hug.

your heart felt light, unburdened by the heaviness of the world, untouched by time. you had forgotten where you were or what had come before, but you felt a warmth that seemed to seep into your very bones. for a moment, everything made sense.

then, a rustling came from the tall, golden plants that stretched in a field before you. your breath caught in your throat.

the air shifted, the breeze growing stronger as you stood, your eyes scanning the distance. through the swaying plants, a figure emerged, small and bounding toward you. it was a dog, running full speed, its fur glistening like gold in the sunlight. a wave of joy crashed over you as you recognized him.

tudor.

your childhood dog, the one who had followed you everywhere when you were young, with his golden locks, warm eyes, and boundless love. he had always known how to make you feel safe, even when the world seemed too big, too overwhelming.

tudor reached you in a blur of motion. his paws landed gently on your chest as he jumped into your arms, licking your face with affection, as if greeting you after years of absence. tears welled in your eyes as you hugged him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. it had been so long, you had forgotten how his presence could make you feel so loved, so at home. though you had felt something similar to that love.

and then, another figure appeared.

a woman walked slowly toward you, her steps measured, graceful, as if the earth itself was cradling her. she had the same complexion as you, the same soft glow to her skin, but she was older, more radiant, as though she had lived many lives in her time. her eyes, those eyes, locked with yours, full of love, of understanding. she was so much like you, yet so different.

it was like looking into a mirror, yet seeing someone far more complete than you could ever feel. she was so full of life, so warm, so alive.

“mom?” the word slipped from your lips like a prayer, and she smiled, soft, peaceful, as though she had been waiting for this moment.

“mom!” you stepped toward her, your heart thundering, tears pooling in your eyes. it wasn’t just the joy of seeing her again, but the relief, the sense of home that flooded through you. you couldn’t stop yourself. you dropped to your knees and threw your arms around her, burying your face in her chest. she held you tight, her arms wrapping around you like the most familiar embrace. it was as though all the years of longing, of missing her, had vanished in that instant. you had finally come home.

you felt something delicate in her hands, and she gently placed a white rose in your hair. you giggled, the sound light and free, as though the burden of the world had been lifted from your shoulders. everything was perfect here, warmth, love, family.

but then, more figures appeared, joining the two of you. your father, grandparents, aunts, uncles. all there, gathered around you, their faces full of warmth, their eyes full of love. they surrounded you, welcoming you into something new, so full of love, full of peace, full of home.

you closed your eyes, the sense of belonging overwhelming you. this was where you were meant to be. this was the place you had always been searching for.

everything grew still. the warmth faded, replaced by the coldness of reality.

“you’re still so close, but yet so far…”

sunghoon was kneeling at a grave. his hands trembled as he placed a bouquet of white roses down on the ground, his eyes red from crying, his body heavy with grief. he didn’t understand why life had been so cruel to him. he had loved you, loved you with everything he had. but it had never been enough.

you hadn’t loved him. you had forgotten him, lost yourself to time and trauma. and then, when things seemed to be getting better, complications had taken you away from him, too soon, too violently. sunghoon stared at the gravestone, his fingers brushing the cold stone.

but then, he realized something, the weight of it crashing over him. he wasn’t angry. he wasn’t bitter. he was simply thankful.

you had found peace. you had found your mother again, found your way back to the ones who truly loved you. that was all that mattered. you were free of the pain. you could finally rest.

because after all this time, he will always love you more than you could yourself. that was his goal, and he was happy that he did his best to show you love.

and then, there was you. you were looking down at him. from wherever you were, you could see his grief, feel the weight of it in your chest. but more than that, you could feel the love. the love you had always felt for him, that you had always known was there. you loved him so much. more than you had ever known. he was enough for you, more than it.

but you had pushed him away. because you couldn’t bear to see him suffer as you had. you didn’t want him to be dragged down the path of destruction, not like you had. you didn’t want him to drown in the pain of loving someone who couldn’t show any emotion beyond anger back, who had been broken beyond repair.

you had to let him go. even if it tore you apart, you had to let him go. for his sake. because you did love him.

perhaps, one day, you would reunite. and when that time came, he wouldn’t be a stranger to you anymore. you would remember everything. the love, the pain, the mistakes, and the healing. and when that day came, you would hold him again, this time knowing how deeply you had always loved him.

and so, with a quiet sigh, you let yourself rest, knowing that he would be okay. because, somewhere in your heart, you knew that love would find its way back to you, whenever the time was right.

MASTERLIST.

BTW: um. so yeah….

[ultramaga]

"I think this boils down to a generational dispute." Ok, then the younger generation should be talking about the great acting moments of Zendaya's very long career. Or uploading scenes of her being "hot". Do you see that? I don't.

"I don't know how you can argue that 28 is anything but young" It's a mature age, heading to thirty. As Emma Watson said, you then have to worry about your fertility declining. If sex is what you are selling, then you better have something other than just looks to carry it off. I don't think she even has looks.

She always seems to have the same sulky expression.

She doesn't move in a way that is sexy, she doesn't have anything distinctive about her voice ..

Honestly, there's girls at my local cafe who look more "hot".

"She also started calling the shots at an early age. Working on Disney’s Shake It Up (2010-13), she refused to perform a scripted kiss because, as she said later, she didn’t want her first kiss to be on television. On her next series, K.C. Undercover (2015-18), she insisted on a title change, a producer’s credit and the inclusion of a family of colour. At 16, she knew her worth." She's been in major productions, getting her way as an activist, since childhood. How can you say she hasn't had an opportunity to shine yet? How many spotlights can she be put under before she manages more than a pout?

I saw a starlet filming herself in a queue once, and Morena Baccarin was in the background, clearly unhappy with being filmed. Then a switch was flipped, and she turned on the Movie Star. She dominated the area. Same thing with Marilyn Monroe, who famously could walk around in public, then switch on the persona and be recognised, as if it was just a party trick. Being hot has to be more than looks for it to last past the twenties, it has to be how you pose, how you move, what you say, how you perform.

Compare:

Just doing her own thing.

Seducing the camera.

People still pay to see Morena do her sexy thing, and she's mid forties.

Mae West made a whole career out of being "hot".

She couldn't have done it if the only card she had to play was appearance.

"I don't actually understand your point about Tessa Thompson." https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tessa_Thompson

She was in everything for a while, she had major major roles, and disappeared. She aged out. She didn't have the acting chops to continue once her looks faded. Or maybe it's just that she lost the ability to trade sex for roles.

I think Zendaya's timer is about to go off. She'll be kicked upstairs, become another Kathleen Kennedy, or move onto something else. She can't act, she has no charisma, she has nothing distinctive, and she's not good enough at any one thing to justify being lousy in everything else.

Bronson's stoicism was famous. Being only good at one thing worked for him, because it was something that people wanted to see. Zendaya's one thing she does is pout. That's it.

Here's my bet. In a few years, I might, if we are both on tumblr, mention this argument, and you'll struggle to remember it, and think it was just silly, and feel you must have been right to find Zendaya hot but you can't quite remember why you did. Someone else will have replaced her, and it will be as if she never was.

She's product on the conveyor.

Whereas someone like Sydney Sweeney is a lot more likely to have a career because she not only has a better body, but personality, or at least projects the Star persona better.

Jenna Ortega also oozes charisma.

Compare Jenna with something she is interested in, to Zendaya talking about her favourite hobby.

Skip to 1:30 - Henry just obliterates the area with his charisma. Tom's also pretty good, lots of work with tones and makes jokes, bouncing off the people around him; I can see him doing a chat show if he wanted.

But Zendaya? She's dull and almost monotone. They're like um you attach the thing and they're like a thing ....

She's supposed to be passionate about this.

But she's just .... there.

I must've missed something bc can anyone tell me why everybody's talking about The Odyssey lately

[brucebocchi]

Ranking 2024 anime, Pt. 3: #30-21

hey, this post is also available on my ko-fi, so please check it out and consider tipping/donating as i do this for free and am currently between jobs. you can find part 1 of the list here and part 2 here. thanks!

We're chugging along. I'd say we're finally getting to the good stuff, and there is plenty of good at this point in the countdown, but I also just really like complaining.

Let's get it.

30. KonoSuba: God’s Blessing on This Wonderful World!, season 3

I have a tendency to refer to the more brainless and/or trashy anime I watch as “junk food.” You know the kind; the ones that don’t really add anything to your life and don’t stand up to the more fulfilling series, but still get the job done when you go into autopilot. I’ve found that, as a habitual (non-metaphorical) snacker, I tend to just reach for something when I’m bored so I have something to do. And looking at it objectively, I don’t tend to enjoy myself while doing it and I usually don’t feel good afterwards.

I feel much the same way about watching KonoSuba.

Not that I think it’s ontologically evil or anything, but KonoSuba often has just as much going against it as it does working in its favor. For every joke that hits, and some of them absolutely do hit, there’s another that makes me question why I’m even watching it. I’m not against dark or even occasionally offensive humor; I adore It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, a show to which KonoSuba often draws comparisons. The issue is that, at its worst, KonoSuba defaults to either “this person is a pervert,” “this person is a pedophile,” or “this man got sexually assaulted.” My issue isn’t with the subject matter so much as the fact that they rarely rise above the level of base shock value and that they keep happening like that. It almost feels perfunctory, like the writers had quotas to meet.

It’s not all bad, though. Even having only gotten into KonoSuba in early 2023, I still found myself lamenting its hiatus, and An Explosion on This Magical World somehow only made the heart grow fonder for the party members that weren’t Megumin. I appreciate that Darkness plays a pivotal role in the third season, because Darkness is hilarious and terrific. This season had a couple of the best jokes and goofy facials in the series. 

Overall, it’s a bit of a wash, but I can’t be too upset. It’s more KonoSuba, and it’s reached the point where that’s practically a value-neutral statement.

29. Wistoria: Wand and Sword

I don’t really have much new to say about Wistoria. It’s not the best magic school anime I watched this year and certainly not the best fantasy, but it looks terrific and it’s a fun enough time if you turn your brain off.

And turning your brain off is a necessity here because Wistoria’s story is as basic as it gets. It’s more or less Mashle if it wasn’t a comedy, and it’s such a transparent, dirt-simple power fantasy that it might as well be an isekai. Guy’s trying to keep a promise to his childhood friend, he sucks at the one thing everyone else does to the point of getting bullied left and right, but he’s super crazy strong in a his own special way. Actually, shit, I just described Kaiju No. 8.

Rule of cool wins out here, and this show does look phenomenal, but it might be better enjoyed via YouTube clips. I’m curious to see where the story goes from here, but I’m not completely sold yet.

28. Chained Soldier

Chained Soldier is horny isekai trash. Chained Soldier fucking rocks. We got big monsters, wild action sequences, unique and memorable character designs, casual femdom, solid comic relief, interesting (if predictable) twists, uncensored boobs, it’s got it all! 

It’s not the best-looking show in some parts, but that’s forgivable. The production values were fine, all things considered, and the action sequences in particular were terrific throughout, but I’m really glad this series is changing studios for the second season. I’ve read ahead in the manga (don’t judge) and Passione is gonna do a bang-up job as the action and shameless fanservice both ramp up.

It’s early in the story and a teensy bit shaky, but Chained Soldier is already a fun time. I have reason to believe it’ll only get better as it goes. And not just because of the boobs.

27. Suicide Squad Isekai

You wanted an isekai starring the Suicide Squad, and by God did you get one. This is a perfectly serviceable series by Suicide Squad standards and a pretty middling isekai otherwise. Nothing about the world in which this series is set is all that interesting or groundbreaking, but you’re here for anime Harley Quinn (and a few other DC villains I guess), and this show delivers.

Fluid, expressive character animation (when the studio wants it), a terrific Japanese voice cast, and entertaining hijinks among Batman’s infamous rogues’ gallery combine for a plenty fun time that ultimately doesn’t have much staying power. If you liked the James Gunn movie, you’ll have a decent time here. No more, no less.

Between Uzumaki’s disastrous production, Lord of the Rings: War of the Rohirrim’s apparent mediocrity, and last year’s unwanted, execrable FLCL Grunge, I’m just glad that at least one recent anime production with Jason DeMarco’s fingerprints on it came out unscathed.

26. ‘Tis Time for “Torture,” Princess

I ended up watching so many discrete series during the winter season that it’s probably not a coincidence that my bottom four series on this ranking (and six of the bottom ten) all aired during that season. When you filter feed, you’re gonna take in a lot of garbage. Sometimes you need some stuff that’s “just fine” to clean the palate.

‘Tis Time for “Torture,” Princess is probably a bit better than even “just fine,” but it’s not gonna be a ready recommendation. The premise is pretty one-note on paper: Warrior princess got captured by demons, they try to coax intel out of her via temptation, she folds, the intel is worthless, and the cycle begins anew. But if a run of over 250 manga chapters and climbing is any indication, the series manages to keep it fresh. Time for “Torture” works because it isn’t beholden to its premise and instead decides to play hopscotch with its own framework. Gradually but noticeably, the unnamed princess and her inquisitors and “torturers” become friends, they all enjoy the spoils of her snitching together, and they really just keep it up because that’s how this stuff is supposed to go. 

Nine months later, I still don’t know why I liked this show so much. It’s just the right amount of silly to me, and it’s cute as hell where it counts. Not the best thing I watched this year but far from the worst. If you want something dumb and weirdly wholesome that’ll make you chuckle here and there, it’s a good pick.

25. Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night

This is one I’m still agonizing over a bit. Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night is a terrific show on so many levels, but I still felt let down by the end of its run. It wasn’t even in the same ballpark of disappointment as Uzumaki or Metallic Rouge, thankfully. Like Uzumaki, it couldn’t live up to the promise of its all-timer debut episode, but on the flip side, Jellyfish largely maintained its high production value. Like Metallic Rouge, it felt like the narrative largely spun its wheels until the writers realized they only had two episodes left, but Jellyfish didn’t leave me feeling like I’d just wasted four hours of my life.

This series already had massive shoes to fill if it was going to be the best showbiz anime produced by Doga Kobo airing this year (“I’d have two nickels” and so on and so forth), but Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night unfortunately ended up getting outclassed on several fronts by shows that just did almost every element better. It looks terrific, it has a memorable cast, the music’s great, and it’s a welcome entry in the “Girls Doing Things” anime canon, but it was outclassed in its own broadcast season by Train to the End of the World, Girls Band Cry, and Yuru Camp. The real shame is that it seemed to have designs on being a tremendous LGBT show if it played its cards right, and instead opted to throw those cards in the air and walk away by the end.

I’d still recommend this show if you temper your expectations of any real narrative punch. There were some tremendous original series that aired this year, but Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night just didn’t reach those higher levels. There’s a whole bunch of good in there, but they couldn’t quite piece it all together.

24. Mushoku Tensei: Jobless Reincarnation, season 2, part 2

I’m gonna be real here: I’m sick of writing about this show. It’s exceptionally well-made and, on balance, easily one of the best anime of the decade so far, but the subject matter can touch such controversial and uncomfortable territory at parts that I can’t recommend it to anyone. 

The back half of Mushoku Tensei’s second season actually did a lot of work towards making up for a lot of the less-tolerable moments in the preceding ¾ of the show, even delivering a couple of the spring season’s best episodes, and then it gets weird again near the end. Not nearly as bad as it gets in the first season, nor in the worst moments of this season’s first half from 2023, but still off-putting, even for people who stuck with it for this long. I expect this to continue.

Mushoku Tensei is a great show. Don’t watch Mushoku Tensei.

23. Undead Unluck, second cour

David Production’s adaptation of one of Weekly Shonen Jump’s most inventive and ambitious action series continued into the start of 2024 as the story just continued ramping up and getting wilder.

Undead Unluck had an interesting, if occasionally uncomfortable start, with a fascinating power system and tons of secrets left to be revealed, and as it continued you could start to see the camera slowly pulling back. Midway through its second cour, shit completely hits the fan and any expectations you may have had fly out the window. Undead Unluck’s debut season was an amusing curiosity for most of its run, but the status quo is upended so effectively midway through the second cour that I was completely hooked. There were some infuriating pacing issues at those exact moments that were enough for me to dock it several spots on this list, but it’s still absolutely worth watching.

I decided to read the Undead Unluck manga a couple months ago and for as wildly as I thought the anime ramped up its scope by the end of this run, it turns out that the series as a whole goes to even crazier lengths than that. I’m completely sold now and cannot wait for more.

22. Kaiju No. 8

Counter to the series I just talked about, Kaiju No. 8 is one of Shueisha’s least​​​​ innovative battle shonen series. And that’s okay! Nothing wrong with wanting to see people fight giant monsters and one who can turn into a giant monster himself, and maybe you don’t want to have to deal with Attack on Titan’s incoherent politics to get there.

There is fundamentally nothing special about Kaiju No. 8, but I do appreciate that the protagonist is an out-of-shape thirtysomething desperately clinging to his hopes and dreams. No particular reason. There’s some interesting worldbuilding early in the story, and although it does lend itself to protag Kafka’s strengths in battle (non-”turning into a monster” category), it all falls to the wayside when it’s time for monsters, guns, and explosions. And I’m fine with that stuff, but I was hoping for a bit more of a hook.

All in all, this is a very well-made show, if a little muddy-looking at times. I wouldn’t have chosen YUNGBLUD and OneRepublic for the opening and closing themes, but it didn’t hamper my enjoyment of the show. I just like complaining about that stuff. Looks good, sounds good most of the time, and endearingly dumb. Can’t go wrong with that.

21. Mashle: Magic and Muscles, season 2

I ranked this show’s first season pretty low on my 2023 list, but I was willing to stick it out for another season, and I’m glad I did. Mashle really finds its footing during the Divine Visionary exam arc and irons out a lot of the issues I’d had with the first season, primarily how little the comedy initially landed for me.

A series that initially had my eyes either rolling or glazing over quickly recovered my attention early in the second season. Creepy Nuts OPs are a cheat code, I swear. Even putting the killer music aside, Mashle looks a lot better as well and has a much more engaging story in its second season. You can really feel it gaining its footing and finding a bit of swagger as the season goes on. The fight sequences are much more engaging this time out, and sometimes you get all the satisfaction you need out of seeing an emotionless weirdo punch the shit out of a mean nerd. A bunch of the jokes even land this time around!

I’m glad I stuck this out. Mashle is, at the end of the day, a hilariously blatant Harry Potter send-up, and frankly has no good reason to hit like it does, but I’m finally sold. At the rate it’s been going, Mashle seems to be set to adapt the entire manga, and I’m looking forward to seeing all of it.

[simonbrain]

Hey friend. I've put off this ask a little while, because I'm sure you're tired of getting it by now, but... are there any updates on the neglected! reader (a/b/o)? I really liked that one, and though I have no issues with the second part not being done yet, a little progress update (if you want to add one) would be very cool! Thanks for writing :)

ugh i know i've been putting it off for a long time but i haven't abandoned it guys! just feeling very stuck with where the narrative is sitting rn 🥲 however, here's a little tease of the beginning of part two, keep in mind it may not be written exactly like this when i post it:

"what?" kyle mumbles, rising from john's lap to grapple with the sudden coldness that overcomes him. no one else says anything, but you can see how your words affect the rest of them: john stiffens in his seat, simon's dismissive glance has turned into a burning glare, and johnny's hand has slipped from where it was resting on his captain's shoulder, a look of confusion and panic twisting on his face.

your anxiety may have dissipated, but that doesn't make this any easier. the air feels too tense, too uncomfortable. you don't like how agitated everyone's scents became the moment you walked in, and it hurts even more knowing they didn't even try to hide it. you don't like seeing them all together here like this. you don't like that you're believing that spiteful little voice in the back of your mind jeering at you that they've been planning your departure, planning how to break the news to you that you're not worth the hassle anymore.

it only makes sense why they're all cooped up in john's office, whispering amongst themselves.

"darling, what are you talking about?" john's voice cuts through your thoughts, but you try not to find comfort in it. he stands from his seat, and you try not to reveal how much you've missed his scent despite how thick it is with stress. your omega has been quiet for a while, but now that you're gathered in one place like this, she's getting restless, simultaneously wanting to hiss at them and cling to anyone who will spare a scrap of affection.

"please, captain, just do it. i don't want to be a burden any longer." you'll beg if that's what it takes; you'll get on your knees and clasp your hands together if it means saving them from unnecessary stress and annoyance and you from further heartbreak.

the earnestness in your voice is so strong it bites at them because how could you even suggest something like that? how could they even consider their pack whole if you're not there?

but hearing his rank fall from your lips leaves a bitter taste in john's mouth and a knot forming in his stomach. it's unnatural to hear you call him that while sounding so defeated and miserable. it's scary to feel so out of control when he's supposed to be your captain, your head alpha.

to know he's let you down so much makes his alpha growl pathetically in shame; how can he even consider himself a leader?

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

141 Headcanons - The Five Love Languages

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Simon has been so severely abused for so much of his life that any form of love is just shocking and hard to accept for a long, long time

It takes a lot of time for him to let anyone love him at all. A LOT of time.

Touch would have to be his number one, though. He mostly hates to be touched by people, but once he has a taste of gentle touches, he can’t get enough

For the longest time, the only touch he got was being beaten, shoved, pulled, and manhandled. Enter his military career. Now, any intent to touch is intent to harm

Enter you. Whether it be brushing a hand across his shoulders as you pass, nudging him when something is funny, squeezing his hands or shoulders in reassurance, wrapping yourself in his arms, or wrapping him in yours, your touches have only ever sought to bring comfort to one or both of you

It goes both ways. Once upon a time, his hands were only for hurting other people. But now that he’s been shown physical love, it’s his favorite way to show love, too

Anytime he can, he wants to be touching you, he’ll put his hand on your back, his arm around your shoulders, or his personal favorite: have you curled up in his lap

Just the fact that you WANT to be close to him makes him feel safe and wanted and loved

He even finds himself reaching out to Johnny on occasion now, though he’ll never admit it

It still takes trust and a LOT of time for him to actually let someone close enough to touch him, though 

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny values quality time above all else, though touch is a close, close second

Like Simon, he doesn’t let people too close. He banters and blusters, but few ever make it into the circle he would call his actual “friends”

When he meets you, being around you becomes as important as breathing. Wherever you are is where he wants to be. Whatever you’re doing is what he wants to do

Ghost teases him that he’s like a puppy (he’s not wrong)

You need help moving furniture? He’s there. If something happened? He’s the one you call, and he’s on the phone or on his way until he knows you’re okay. Shopping? Or better yet, cooking? He’ll read the cookbook to you

Speaking of cooking, dinner dates are his forte. He loves taking you somewhere nice to show you that you’re worth his time and money (and to hold your hand). But mostly, he just wants to listen to you and talk with you

Every dinner, while he’s home, is an at-the-table affair so you can both share what’s going on in your lives

And after every dinner is cuddling until bed, unless other activities take priority *wink wink*

You planning time together and asking him about missions makes him feel like the luckiest man alive, because it shows him that you're just as interested in him as he is in you

And of course it doesn’t hurt when you can’t take your hands off him. That’s quality time on a whole new level

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle, soft-spoken man that he is, responds the best to words of affirmation

He’s confident enough, but there’s something about being told when he’s doing things right that really sets his mind and heart at ease

Whether it be on mission or at home, he likes to know he’s not off-base when he thinks he’s done things right

Part of why he and Price are so close is that Price always lets him know how he’s doing

Nothing boosts his confidence like you appreciating him vocally, whether it be for helping you cook or clean or doing the grocery shopping

Obviously, there’s one area of home life that vocal praise means even more

One of his favorite things is coming home to you to hear “I missed you” and “I’m so glad you came back to me”

“I love you” undoes him every time, and it’s his favorite thing to say to you. It isn’t said lightly

He loves with words of affirmation, too

“This meal is delicious” and “thank you for doing my laundry” and “I’m so grateful to have you in my life” are common phrases in your home

John Price

John is old-fashioned. Acts of service are his favorite way to be loved, and gift-giving is his favorite way to give love

With his team, he always makes sure they have the things they need to be comfortable on mission (tea to calm Ghost’s, earplugs so Gaz can sleep, puzzles or some such to occupy Soap’s idle hands)

With you? Birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s? You’ll be getting flowers on every one

You’ll probably get flowers just sending him to the grocery store, too

When he travels, he picks up various little things for you he thinks you’ll like

When you need something done, he does it

He does whatever his team needs, too. On or off mission

When you get gifts for him, he doesn’t much care what they are. It’s the thought that counts

He still uses the wallet you got him when you started dating all those years ago

He feels the most loved and cared for when he comes home after a mission to a hot meal, his favorite sweats laid out, and a nice back rub from you

[covid-safer-hotties]

//I’ve gotten covid four times now, two due to my former job, and two from my family members. All were instances where I was taking precautions and masking save one where I was blindsided and had thought I was in company of tested and healthy individuals. I’m terrified that I’m going to be rendered unable to function because of these infections. I already have some serious long covid, and I had developed fibromyalgia. Now I’m terrified that my thinking skills will be further degraded to the point I won’t be able to do my old hobbies or pursue my academic goals, and that my body will continue to wear down with illnesses making it harder than ever for me to hold down jobs or spend any time outside my house. I apologize if this has been asked already or if this is too much of a vague area to respond to confidently, but are you aware of whether or not COVID can cause such significant cognitive disabilities? I’m honestly more afraid of that than anything else. I don’t want to lose my thinking. I don’t want to lose the things I’ve used for so long to help me get through life.

I can't give you any answers about covid and cognitive because there are still so many unknowns: They're still debating whether it's viral particals crossing the blood brain barrier, cytokine cascades in your compliment system, swelling, or immflamatory factors leaking into your brain envelope.... or SOME COMBINATION plus an unknown unkown. I'm sorry I can't provide anything beyond the studies about long covid and brain in the archive. There's a good handful of ideas, but no solid conclusions as of yet and much more study to be done. There's also a whole bunch of articles of people with simliar experiences you may find helpful or cathartic. (You can find them here)

If you're worried the precautions you're taking aren't enough, you should look over our archive of introductory resources to covid safety to see if there's any thing you can add or look into. While not cost effective for everyone, portible air filters are an easy addition that helps keep you safer in one-way-masking high risk situations. Nasal sprays of several vareties can somewhat lessen the chances of both infection and neruo-covid symptoms that would increase the chances of brain damage/cognitive decline.

[dark-moonlust]

Stubborn As Ever

Commission for Anon on Patreon @ 2025 Kate Hart

This commission is owned by Kate Hart. As the original writer, I strictly forbid any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent.

Pairing: orc oc x female human reader

Summary: you are sick and push yourself too far but your orc boyfriend Matuk isn’t having it. He takes charge, forcing you to rest while reminding you just how much he cares about you.

Warnings: reader who has a cold, mentions but no smut, cuteness and fluff, flirty banter, caring and possessive orc bf.

The soft clack of your keyboard filled the room, the glow of your laptop the only light against the gray hues of the afternoon. Your nose was red, tissues were scattered around the desk, and a half-finished cup of coffee sat forgotten next to you, now cold. You sniffled, wiped your nose on yet another tissue, and ignored the throbbing ache behind your eyes. The project wasn’t going to finish itself. You were determined to finish it tonight and be done with it.

That determination lasted exactly ten seconds before the office door creaked open.

You didn’t even have to look.

The heavy footsteps and low growl alerted you to your boyfriend’s appearance. Standing well over six and a half feet tall, Matuk leaned against the doorframe, his hands folded in front of his chest. A plain gray T-shirt clung to his broad chest and shoulders, the seams strained slightly by his massive frame.

His deep green skin appeared otherworldly under the faint light, his face sharp as he looked at you with a frown. He had a square jaw that balanced the tusks curving slightly from his lower lip. Dark brown eyes settled on you, his hair short and messy, the inky black strands cut just above his pointed ears, though a few stubborn strands always managed to linger on his forehead. Like now. He looked devilishly handsome and you itched to comb those strands.

“Are you kidding me right now?” His deep growling voice cut off your thoughts. “Tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”

“Geez… I’m fine, Matuk,” you groaned even if your throat sounded more like sandpaper than anything else.

“Wrong,” he snapped, and the next thing you knew, your laptop was being lifted out of your reach. He shut the screen and stowed it away high up in your bookshelf—far too high for you to reach without a ladder.

“Hey!” You spun around, glaring up at him, but his eyes pinned you in place, and even through your cold fog, you could see and understand his frustration.

“You’re sick, wildflower,” he said low and husky. He called you wildflower because you were delicate yet strong, thriving whatever the case. But if you kept overworking and ignoring your health, you would be making yourself weak.

“I have a deadline.”

“Which is due next week. More than enough time for you to rest and get back to it.”

“Matuk—”

“Don’t.” He cupped your face, an edge of command in his voice. “Don’t argue with me. You’ve been working nonstop for weeks and now you’re paying for it. I won’t stand here and watch you make yourself worse.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re pale, tired. Your voice is hoarse. You’re burning up, but here you are, pushing yourself like nothing matters except that damn screen. Newsflash, I’m not letting you do this to yourself.”

Before you could protest, he slipped one arm under your knees and the other around your waist, lifting you off the chair with ridiculous ease. Your tired body betrayed you and you tucked yourself into his embrace as he walked out of the room, holding you as if you weighed nothing. His scent wrapped around you— woodsy and slightly smoky, and you reached, touching his silky hair.

“I can walk you know…” you muttered even as you rubbed your cheek over his strong chest.

“Not a chance. You lost your privileges when you decided to ignore my advice and work yourself to death.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re mine, and I will take care of you.”

Damn, why did that sound so hot? It was probably the way he spoke, the husky notes of his voice.

Your cheeks burned and this time it was not because of the cold.

A grin on your face, you buried your face in his shoulder to hide it. He rubbed his chin against your head before setting you down on the huge king-sized bed. He adjusted things with his large, calloused hands - plumping up your pillow, straightening a blanket over your legs and tucking it under your feet. Then he added a second blanket, just to make sure you were warm enough.

"Comfortable?"

"Super comfy,” you smiled, wiggling under the soft fluffy blankets. “And one layer away from being a human burrito.”

He snorted, crouching close to you so he was at eye level. "Good. Means I'm doing my job."

“I’m gonna be okay, my love,” you muttered, seeing how concerned he was.

"Hmm… either way you’re staying put, got it? No working, no overthinking, no sneaking around.”

You rolled your eyes, but a little grin tugged at your mouth. "You're incredibly bossy.”

"And you're awfully mouthy for someone who can barely sit up without wobbling," he smirked back, flashing a hint of tusk. “But that is ok. I like you mouthy, wildflower.”

“Wow, are you flirting with me right now?”

He laughed. “Damn right, I am. And I need you back at your peak strength so that I can firmly pin you to this bed for putting me through this worry.”

"You are impossible."

"And you're adorable and irresistible.”

You snorted and looked away. “Oh, please, I look horrible.”

"Wrong," he said in one breath. He tilted your face back to him and kissed your red nose. "You're gorgeous. Even today. Flushed cheeks and nose, messy hair, that little pout you get when you're impatient and stubborn."

“Matuk…” you sneaked your arms out of your blankets to caress his hard face. He leaned into your touch before tucking your cold hands back inside, reaching for your blanket, pulling it higher around your shoulders. “Still the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen."

The sweet moment was over faster than you’d wanted because he rushed to the kitchen and then returned with a tray with a bowl and a steaming cup. You sat up against the headboard and sighed happily. The air smelt of herbs and chicken broth.

"Eat, little wildflower," he said, carefully passing you the bowl. "You have approximately one minute before I do it myself."

"I will eat. I’m not protesting any longer.”

“Fucking finally.”

Chuckling at his words, you cradled the bowl in your hands, the warmth radiating into your chilled fingers. The steam curled warmly against your face as you sipped the rich broth. Each spoonful slid down your throat, soothing the raw ache and spreading warmth through your chest and belly. The subtle spices lingered on your tongue, coaxing a soft sigh from your lips. Ahhh, this was heavenly.

When you handed the empty bowl back to your very satisfied boyfriend, he plucked it from your hands and kissed your forehead. “Good girl.”

Next, he pressed a small packet of medicine into your palm and handed you a glass of water. You obediently downed the medicine, the bitterness lingering for only a moment before Matuk replaced the glass with a steaming mug of tea. The fragrant aroma greeted you as you sipped, letting the herbal brew chase away the last of the medicine’s taste.

Once the mug was empty, you set it aside with a contented hum and sank back into the cocoon of blankets. Your body felt warm and soothed, your head less heavy. The stuffiness in your nose had also eased thanks to the herbal steam. All you needed now was your boyfriend’s body pressed against you.

As if he could read your thoughts, Matuk shifted the blankets, his hulking form easing into the bed beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight as he slid under the covers. You moaned at the heat of him and pressed yourself greedily against him. Your cheek found its place against his chest, his heartbeat a steady drum against your ear.

A calloused hand cradled the back of your head, his palm large enough to cover it completely. He tipped your face up, his fingers threading through your hair before he kissed you, brushing his lips against yours, careful not to hurt you with his tusks. You protested but his tongue coaxed your mouth open and swept past your lips in heated strokes. The press of his mouth deepened, his tongue demanding more before you broke the kiss, your hands pressed against his chest.

“No! I’m sick, I don’t want you to catch my cold!”

He blinked, then burst out laughing. “That’s what this is about? Oh, my considerate wildflower.” His laughter softened into a grin as he leaned in closer and licked the corner of your mouth.

“Matuk—”

“Hush,” he drawled, pressing another hot kiss on your lips. “You’re not gonna stop me, so don’t even try. I’m an orc. A mere human cold can’t take me down. We’re big, strong, and way too stubborn for that.”

“Still,” you said, shifting against him because, damn him, he kept licking and nibbling at your lips. “But— isn’t it better to be careful?”

“No,” he protested with a low growl. “I don’t care if you’re sick, ugly, or bloody mad at me. You’re mine. My mate. My wildflower. And nothing’s keeping me from kissing you when I damn well feel like it.”

You stared up at him, heart pounding as his deep brown eyes locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. You loved him so much, your protective and possessive orc boyfriend that had changed your life completely. Matuk was unlike any male, caring and domineering, always making you feel like the most important person in the world.

“I love how grumpy and protective you are.”

He gave you a sly grin. “I love you more. And once you recover, I plan on making up for lost time and ravish you properly.”

You grinned. “Sounds delicious.”

"Sleep, my little wildflower," he said, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. "I've got you."

And you did. You melted against his chest, the rise and fall of his steady breath lulling you to sleep. His arms were around you, one gliding up and down your back in abstract patterns. He peppered kisses on your eyes, nose, and lips, silently promising that no harm would ever reach you. He was your protector, your one and only. Always.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Major Blog Update: Inbox Cleared, Life Updates, a big thank you and More!

First of all the big one:

The deed is done...The Inbox is dead.

Long live the inbox.

To get a fresh start, I've deleted the current inbox of all my asks.

The inbox memes, the nightmares...they're finally over...

ANYWAYS, feel free to send in any request you may have as per usual, just figured I clear that damn thing finally out considering I've had asks that are three years old in there.

Right now I'm really getting into Honkai: Star Rail since Natlan kinda killed my enjoyment of Genshin, but those gals I will still love and write for (I mean, I'm sure as heck not changing the blog url) so don't feel discouraged if you came to this blog because of my Genshin content. And of course my other fandoms are still good to rock and roll!

One last thing before the cut:

I want to thank EVERY ONE of you for following this blog and sticking around with my goofy ah for so long.

I genuinely get excited to read any message or request you put under my posts or inbox, whether it be feedback or joking around! And I know we have the memes going on about me being drowned, please know I do genuinely take the time to look at every single one that comes in everyday, even if I didn't say anything or respond. And it means the world to me that ya'll like my writing enough to continue asking of me.

You all are the reason I even put the effort I do in this blog for so many years, from my newer followers to those who have followed me since my first blog. I could not ask for a better group than ya'll.

From the bottom of my heart, thanks, and let's have a great year together!

ANYWHO: For those who care enough, this is what's been going on with me for the last few months.

Work:

As for why I've been absent for a while: simply put because I work a retail job. Thankfully nothing too bad, it's just normal scheduling and it IS work I very much enjoy and get paid relatively well. My love for writing is still very strong as is my simping, so no worries, I don't plan on going anywhere.

I DO greatly apologize for making everyone wait for literally ANYTHING, doubly so if you had an ask I didn't get to yet. I wanted to honestly save everything into my drafts, but alas I could only choose some select ones.

You're more than welcome to send it back in, and since things have calmed down I SHOULD be getting to them a lot faster.

Genshin:

In regards to what I said earlier about Genshin: Natlan kind of killed any enjoyment I had playing, characters were REALLY unappealing to me, it made my friends stop playing so therefore I stopped as well as that was the major reason I still had it installed. I don't really plan on adding anyone from Natlan or anyone else from that game in the future, so apologies if you were looking forward to that from me specifically.

Star Rail has been filling the hole in my heart and honestly? I have a lot more writing freedom writing the gals from there, but again, don't feel afraid to send me any genshin request! I still simp for my Mondstadt women after all.

Other things I've been doing/Ideas for the blog:

I've also been playing games (and getting distracted) with my irl friends and trying to catch up on my hobbies to prevent myself from burning out, Minecraft has been a big thing lately for me again: specifically Pixelmon LMAO.

For 2025 though, I plan to at least post an imagine once a week starting next week since things are still settling down and I have to get my work schedule.

I might also start posting (Eventually) my personal writing projects here to get feedback and possibly go to AO3 to post my crossover series since Tumblr isn't really the place to be doing so (Chief among them my FE3H AU: House Isekai), or if demand is high enough I'll post it here.

Oh, and with this major update I have once again updated my banner, not that it's really important, just that I put a good amount of effort in it, more than you'd think for how simple it is. I also want to see if anyone even gets my reference LMAO

Once this post goes live, I plan to add a few new characters, starting with the Commander from Girls' Frontline but we'll see how it goes.

I think that's all I got for right now, so see ya soon guys!

- Chris

[comphetkoncass]

i loooove the idea of jon growing up to be super sensitive and compassionate with a big heart on his sleeve who thinks that how people feel is just as important as their safety. and damian growing up to be extremely compassionate and to continue prioritizing the people that other heroes don't. and they are both each other's first priority, always and forever.

i just have such a specific feeling about them. i like the idea of jon being every team's emotional heart. and damian being the guy who protects that heart, because jon doesn't shield it at all. and i like the idea of jon being the first to defend damian's choices because he trusts that damian is doing the right thing, because no one else can match him in genuine rehabilitation of people who've done wrong.

im working on vibes alone bc i have not read enough of them yet, and they're still growing up, and they could really become anyone. but from what ive seen this is just... canon?

anyway.

jon being incapable of being selfish and overcommitting -> damian saying 'no, he is absolutely not doing that, i have already claimed his time'

damian always, always finding the compassion to save even his worst enemies because people can change -> jon fighting anyone who has a problem with damian not enacting vengeance rather than justice

[doiliedaze]

Bloodlust: part one

Pitfighter! Vi x Stripper! reader

Warnings: none in this part

Genre: fluff ish cause no real angst yet???

A/N: i was listening to strictly for the strippers by sexyy red so enjoy!! Vi is depressed and impulsive but she’s trying her best.

───────┈ · ·

Sounds of bottles popping, folks hollering, and ass thumping. That’s my typical atmosphere ‘round 11:30. I’ve only been stripping for three years, and I’ve learned a couple things.

Save your money

Get a buddy

Your real name is earned

Never sleep with your clients, this is fantasy

My stage name is Wisp. I got it when I auditioned based on how I move around the pole.

Recently there’s this new hardass that’s been coming to the club. She’s broad, covered in tattoos and has a chip on her shoulder. I avoid these types…but I can’t avoid her.

Think whatever you want about strippers but most of us are decent people tryna make it especially in Zaun.

I walk onto the floor getting what I can before I have to go on stage when I hear her whistle at me.

I roll my eyes fighting a little smile. I will admit she is beautiful but her attitude isn’t. Eventually I’m called onto stage. It never gets old when you are announced on stage. The crowd calling for you, the base thumping and the first moment you touch the pole and you whirl in the air…magic everytime.

The theme of the night was whimsical whores, I know subtle right.

No matter the lighting, fog of weed or anything else I see her through the crowd, heavy blue eyes watching me. Towards the end of my performance my heart was racing almost. She felt closer? She usually stays towards the bar and stares but this time she was closer to the stage.

The song fades out and I get off stage collecting my money when I feel someone hit my ass. Before I could react my new regular is picking fights. One fight, starts twelve here so I scurry off stage and change so I can leave early.

Outside I catch my breath and I see her get thrown out yelling and cursing when she makes eye contact with me. I don’t enjoy when customers get in my business it never ends well. She walks over to me, everything about her looking heavy. Her lip was bleeding and there was a cut under her eye. “You okay?” She said softly might I add.

“Yes but don’t do that again.” She tilt her head and scoffed at me.

“Is that how you say thank you?”

“Why am I thanking your drunk decisions?”

She rubbed her face like she was fighting to say something and just muttered a sorry. She’s obviously drunk and probably wanted to help, before she walks away I grab her hand and she snatches it away. “I just want to know how you’re getting home…”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not leaving you alone till you let me take you home.”

We stare at each other for thirty minutes until she starts leading the way. Is this dangerous? Obviously! However I’d feel better knowing she’s home safe.

She slows down so I can walk next to her. She smells like wood and blood, not sure if that’s her natural scent or because of tonight. I see some of her tattoos peeking out, they look so intricate.

Her voice broke the silence letting me know we’re here. I thought it looked okay on the outside but my gods it was horrible on the inside.

“Have you ever cleaned or is this the aesthetic you’re going for?”

She side eyed me so I stopped talking.

“I’m barely here so I don’t see the point in caring.” She mutters as she takes off her jacket.

I swallow thickly when I get a view of her back, instinctively I want to touch it but I won’t.

“Like what you see doll?”

“No and don’t call me that, it’s wisp to you.”

“Doll suits you better” she walks towards me, there’s a sadness in her eyes like she’s done this before.

“What’s your name?” I say abruptly trying to change the conversation. She catches on and leaves some space in-between us, “it’s Vi.” She was ashamed to say her name. Then it all started clicking for me.

Vi lays on her makeshift bed and I stare at her crumbled form, “I’ll let myself out…”

“Can you stay?” She whispers, her voice so soft I almost missed it.

You shouldn’t get this close to anyone in the lanes just because they have shit going on, we all have shit going on…but sometimes people need help and I have a hard time saying no to helping people.

I lay behind her and slowly wrap my arms around her. Vi flinched slightly but she was tryna relax. I rub her hair a little trying to comfort her as I hear her sniffle. She grabbed my hand and just lays it across her instead. We stayed like that till we fell asleep.

My downfall has always been my heart let’s see where that gets me.

───────┈ · ·

A/N: im trying not to be corny whilst writing this so I hope y’all enjoy!! I love strip club based stories so there will be more stripper! reader. I’m gonna try to make part two longer and add angst but I suck at writing angst so we’ll see (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout

(Dividers- @dollywons)