#Fandom has no age and I genuinely think that's beautiful.

[seriiousgiirl]

𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝒿𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓍 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇.⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. alternate universe - canon divergence, post-silent Hill 2, angst and fluff and smut, touch-starved, redemption, grief, mourning, psychological trauma and horror, mutual pining, James adopted Laura, age difference, smut, vaginal sex, rough sex, rough kissing, aftercare, daddy kink, James deserves his happy ending, James is desperate and pathetic, based on the Silent Hill Games and mostly the remake

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. Three years after the harrowing events in Silent Hill, James Sunderland has survived the haunting memories of his past but carries the heavy burden of grief and guilt. Adopting Laura, James strives to create a normal life for them both, but the echoes of his former life linger, haunting him in moments of solitude.

As he navigates the challenges of fatherhood and a corporate job, James grapples with PTSD and the lingering shadows of his late wife, Mary. His daily interactions are fraught with anxiety, especially when it comes to Laura's teacher, Y/n. Young, vibrant, and filled with warmth. But as Y/n becomes an unexpected source of comfort and tension in James's life. He is drawn to her kindness and beauty, yet he feels undeserving of her attention, burdened by the ghosts of his past.

When Y/n reaches out with genuine concern for James's well-being, he wrestles with feelings of guilt, lust and longing, torn between the desire for connection and the fear of betraying Mary's memory. As James's pent-up frustrations bubble to the surface, he finds himself navigating a complicated emotional landscape where love, loss, and redemption intertwine.

❛ Part 2 ⋅ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ⋅ requests ❜

➜ ┊ a/n: Hello everyone! After years of being more or less in the Silent Hill fandom, the remake rather inspired me... :') After seeing how cute James is in it, I felt like I was rediscovering his character. The story is a bit different from what we usually see, but I hope it will appeal to the (few, I don't think many would be interested in a silent hill fanfic) people who read it.

➜ ┊: chapter 1/?.

James woke up again, his body snapping upright in bed, his breath ragged and uneven as if he had just surfaced from drowning. His chest rose and fell with frantic breaths that refused to calm, his heart hammering against his ribcage like a prisoner desperate to escape. The room around him was silent, still, and blanketed in shadows, the faintest silver glow of the moon seeping through the thin, worn curtains. It painted his surroundings in an eerie light, enough to make out the vague shapes of his furniture but not enough to chase away the weight of the darkness.

He knew it was early—much too early. The alarm on his nightstand wouldn’t go off for hours, not until the unforgiving numbers clicked over to 7 a.m. He set it religiously, every night, clinging to the hope that one day he’d wake naturally to the sound, as if that simple act could restore some semblance of normalcy to his broken life. 

But that never happened.

James never woke peacefully anymore. His body, his mind, refused to grant him that mercy. Instead, he jolted awake in a cold sweat, his body rigid, his pulse racing. Each time, it felt as though he was being pulled from some unseen nightmare—ripped out of a hellish dreamscape that he couldn’t remember clearly but always left its mark. The fear, the panic, the suffocating sense of dread stayed with him, lingering like smoke in the air long after his eyes had adjusted to the dim glow of his bedroom.

He pressed his palm against his face, wiping away the sheen of sweat that clung to his skin. His body felt tense, coiled like a spring that had been wound too tightly. His muscles ached from the constant strain, from the battles he fought every night within the confines of his mind. The nightmares weren’t just dreams. They were fragments of a past that refused to stay buried, haunting him in the dead of night when the world outside was quiet and his mind had no distractions to keep the demons at bay.

The medication bottles on his bedside table gleamed faintly in the moonlight, their labels worn from use. He reached for them out of habit, his fingers brushing the cool surface, but he didn’t open them. No matter how many pills he swallowed, how many prescriptions doctors wrote, nothing ever worked. Sleep was supposed to be a sanctuary, a refuge from the waking world, but for James, it had become another battleground.

He let his hand drop back to his lap, staring down at his shaking fingers. He could feel the tension still coursing through him, the residue of whatever nightmare had dragged him awake. His body hadn’t yet realised he was safe, that it was just a dream, and the adrenaline still pumped through his veins. Every night, it was the same—this restless terror that clung to him, trapping him in a cycle he couldn’t escape. He longed for sleep, yet feared it in equal measure, knowing that the darkness of his subconscious held more horrors than the light of day ever could.

For a moment, he considered lying back down, closing his eyes, and trying again. 

But the thought alone made his stomach twist.

With a sigh, James decided to give up on sleep altogether. There was no use lying there, waiting for his heart to calm down or for the remnants of his nightmare to fade. His legs still trembled as he swung them over the side of the bed, the cool floor beneath him grounding him just enough to pull himself up. The shadows in the room seemed to shift as he stood, though he knew it was his mind playing tricks again. He had long stopped trusting the darkness.

He moved carefully, trying to stay silent as he made his way to the door, not wanting to wake Laura. She was the only constant in his life now, the only reason he hadn’t completely unravelled. But even the thought of her, sleeping peacefully down the hall, wasn’t enough to ease the tremor in his hands. As he stepped out of the bedroom, the familiar creak of the floorboards echoed too loud in the silence of the house, and for a fleeting moment, his breath hitched.

Sometimes, in these quiet hours, he could swear he heard them—the monsters. That same sickening creaking sound they made, their grotesque forms dragging across the cold. Or worse, the heavy, slow scrap of metal—a blade being dragged along the ground. His body tensed, instinctively waiting for the ominous presence of that thing— he came to call Pyramid Head. He hadn’t seen it in three years, but its presence still lingered, like a ghost lurking in the corners of his mind. His chest tightened as he imagined that scraping sound growing closer, louder, but he knew… or at least, he tried to convince himself it wasn’t real. Not anymore.

On the worst days, though, it wasn’t just the monsters. 

Sometimes, he would hear her—Mary. Her voice, soft and sweet, like the Mary he remembered before everything went wrong, calling out to him. It always started the same way, a gentle whisper at first, like she was in the next room, waiting for him. And each time, it grew louder, more urgent, until it was a siren’s call, relentless and cruel. It was enough to make his heart stop, to make him question everything, and then he’d remember—he knew where that call would lead. Straight into oblivion. Straight into the abyss of his own guilt.

On other nights, he could swear he felt Maria—her warmth next to him in bed, the way her body would press against his. It was so vivid, so painfully real, as though she hadn’t died in his arms multiple times, as though Silent Hill hadn’t swallowed her whole. She had been a ghost, a reflection of everything he had lost, and yet… sometimes she felt alive in those moments. His doctors told him it was all hallucinations, the remnants of trauma deeply embedded in his mind. Certified and explained away in clinical terms, but knowing that didn’t change how real it felt in those fleeting, terrifying seconds.

Even now, as he stood in the hallway, his breath uneven, James couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere—beneath the layers of his fragile reality—the horrors were still there, watching, waiting.

James padded quietly into the kitchen, his bare feet brushing against the cool tiles as he reached for a glass. The water flowed smoothly from the tap, cool and refreshing, and he drank it straight, the crispness washing over him. It helped clear his mind, if only for a moment, pushing back the lingering echoes of the night’s terrors. 

After finishing the glass, he flicked on the small lamp in the living room, its soft glow spilling light across the space, chasing away the oppressive darkness. He made his way to the couch, settling himself in front of the window, where the city still lay shrouded in early morning silence. Outside, the world was just beginning to stir, but here in this moment, everything felt suspended in time.

They had moved far away from Silent Hill, away from Maine altogether, as if he was still trying to escape the town’s haunting pull. When Laura had expressed her desire for a place near the coast, saying she wanted to feel the warmth of the sun and breathe in the salty scent of the ocean, he had obliged her wishes. It was the least he could do for the little girl who had become his lifeline, the one bright spot in his otherwise dark world. It had taken time, but he had learned to appreciate the small things—like the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the way the sunlight danced on the water’s surface.

He pulled his journal from the side table, the worn leather cover familiar against his fingers. The pages were filled with thoughts, memories, and an ongoing dialogue with himself—one that his doctor had encouraged. Writing was meant to help him sort through his feelings, to separate reality from the nightmares that still clung to him like shadows. It was a way to document the moments that felt tangible, grounding him in the present.

With the pen poised above the page, he took a deep breath, letting the silence of the morning wrap around him. 

Date: [XX/10/1993]

Another night of waking up in a cold sweat. The dreams feel heavier lately, more vivid. I can still hear Mary’s voice sometimes, like she’s calling out to me. I know it’s not real, but the longing… It’s hard to escape. I need to remember that I’m here now. That I have Laura. She needs me to be present. I need to plan my day—take her to the beach, show her the tide pools, maybe? She deserves to explore, to laugh, to feel alive. Maybe it will help me too.

James paused, staring at the words he’d just written. The ink was still wet, and he felt the weight of each line pressing against his chest, a mixture of hope and dread swirling within him. 

He continued, allowing his thoughts to flow onto the page.

I’ve been thinking about the way the ocean looks at dawn. It’s a beautiful sight, the horizon slowly illuminated by the first light of day. I want to share that with Laura. She deserves to see the world as it is. Maybe if I can show her that, it’ll help me remember what it feels like to be alive, too.

He turned the page, feeling the familiar texture beneath his fingertips, grounding him in a moment that felt too fragile. The nightmares are starting to blur again. It’s like I’m drifting between memories and dreams. I know I should talk to Dr. Fischer about it, but I hate feeling so exposed. Every time I sit across from him, it’s like peeling back layers of skin. I don’t want to keep reliving the past, but I also know I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s a part of me now—part of what makes me who I am.

But sometimes, I wonder if I’m doing enough. If I’m enough. Laura is so full of life—she deserves happiness, yet I feel like a ghost in my own home. The laughter that fills this place is often followed by a silence that weighs heavily on me, as if I’m a spectator in my own life, watching a play where I don’t belong. 

He paused, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, fighting against the swell of loneliness that threatened to overwhelm him. 

Some days, I can still hear Mary’s laughter, the way it used to light up the room, but now it’s a whisper in the wind. I wish I could reach out to her, ask her for forgiveness, tell her how much I miss her. But she’s gone, and I’m left with nothing but my guilt and the memories that won’t let me go. It’s a bitter irony—I have another chance at life with Laura, yet I feel more alone than ever.

I thought time would heal me, that the scars would fade, but each day feels like a new reminder of what I’ve lost. I watch Laura play, her laughter cutting through the silence, and it fills me with joy and pain all at once. I want to protect her, to shield her from the darkness I carry. But how can I do that when I’m still fighting my own battles?

Anyway, plan for today: Take Laura to the beach, explore the tide pools, and have a picnic.

As he continued to write, the rhythm of his thoughts began to settle, the initial chaos giving way to clarity. He documented everything he hoped to achieve that day, the things that could distract him. 

After some time, the soft patter of small feet echoed in the hallway, and Laura emerged from her room, her hair tousled and her eyes still heavy with sleep. She settled next to James on the couch, curling her legs beneath her as she leaned against his shoulder, still waking up. 

“Did you even sleep at all?” she mumbled, her voice thick with the remnants of slumber. 

James chuckled softly, the sound warm and gentle. “Just a little. You know how it is,” he replied, glancing down at her. The early morning light filtered through the window, illuminating her features and casting a soft glow around them. 

“Not again,” Laura sighed, shaking her head in mock exasperation. “You should really take better care of yourself, you know.”

James smiled, closing his journal and setting it aside, feeling the comforting weight of their shared silence. His relationship with Laura had evolved significantly since that first day they met. In the beginning, there was an undeniable tension, a wall between them built from grief and uncertainty. Laura had been sharp-tongued and defiant, often testing his patience with her stubbornness. But over time, that wall had crumbled, brick by brick, revealing a bond that had become more profound and genuine. 

“Maybe I just like the quiet,” he teased, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. “It gives me time to think.”

Laura rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, right. More like you spend it worrying about everything,” she shot back, her familiar sass coming through. But he could sense the softness in her demeanour, the way she had begun to let him in, and it filled him with gratitude.

There were still moments when she wouldn’t call him “Dad”—it felt too heavy, too final—but there had been instances where the word slipped out, once or twice. The first time he had felt a rush of warmth and something almost like fear at her words. It had caught him off guard, pulling at his heartstrings in a way he hadn’t expected. It was one night after a particularly rough day at school. 

The kids had been relentless, and when she had come home, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She had cried so much that night, seeking solace in his arms, and in that moment of vulnerability, she had whispered it—Dad—like it was a fragile promise, something she wanted to believe in.

He had held her tightly, whispering reassurances as she poured out her heart. It was one of the hardest days for both of them, but that single word had changed everything, reinforcing their bond in ways he never thought possible. 

The shrill sound of James’s alarm cut through the quiet morning, signalling that it was finally 7 a.m. He groaned softly, the sudden noise pulling him from the lingering remnants of his thoughts. “Time to get moving,” he muttered to himself before swinging his legs off the couch and standing up.

“Laura,” he called out gently, “you need to get ready for school.” 

Laura groaned but slowly pushed herself upright, her hair sticking up in tousled spikes. “Do I have to?” she whined, rubbing her eyes.

“Yes, you do,” James replied with a chuckle, heading into the kitchen to start breakfast. He could already hear her muttering under her breath as she dragged herself away from the comfort of the couch, but he couldn’t help but smile at her antics. As he prepared breakfast, the scent of eggs and toast filled the air, mixing with the cool October breeze that slipped in through the slightly ajar window. 

He could hear the soft shuffle of Laura getting ready in the background, her footsteps echoing through the hallway.

When breakfast was ready, he set the table, placing a plate in front of her just as she joined him. They ate together in comfortable silence, the clinking of forks the only sound between them for a few moments. 

“So, there’s this kid in class…” Laura began, her voice a mix of enthusiasm and worry. As she recounted her stories, James listened attentively, nodding along as she shared her concerns about a class project and the kids who were teasing her again. She spoke with an earnestness that made him proud, she was a smart little girl.

“...and I do think the teacher likes me a lot,” she finished, her voice dropping slightly, smiling shyly.

James reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on hers. “You’re doing great, Laura. I’m so proud of you,” he encouraged, hoping to convey his support. 

Once they finished breakfast, he cleared the table while she dashed back to her room to grab her backpack. The familiar morning routine helped ground him, a stark contrast to the chaos that often filled his mind.

Then, James returned to his room, feeling the familiar weight of his thoughts returning. He turned on the water for a shower, the warm spray washing over him, almost as if he were trying to cleanse himself of his sins and guilt. Each droplet felt like it could wash away a little more of his guilt, his pain, and his memories.

After his shower, he stood in front of the mirror, towel drying his ash-blond hair and tidying it up, shaving his stubble. The cold air from outside seeped through the window, sending a shiver down his spine as he dressed for the day. He pulled on a simple shirt and jeans. 

But as James stood in front of his closet, the morning light filtering through the curtains, his gaze fell upon his signature khaki jacket hanging quietly amidst his other clothes. For a moment, he hesitated, his heart tightening.

The jacket felt heavy with the weight of the past. He recalled the feel of it against his skin as he navigated the fog-laden streets, the chill of the air contrasting sharply with the warmth it provided. It had shielded him from the elements, yes, but it had also cloaked him in the pain of his choices, the guilt that clung to him like a second skin. 

James swallowed hard, staring at the jacket, the muted fabric whispering secrets of the past. He could almost hear the echoes of Mary’s voice, feel the pang of loss that accompanied every memory. It was as if the jacket was tainted, infused with the blood and tears of that time—but also her scent, her warmth and gentle touch.

Perhaps… Today, he could indulge himself.

He took a deep breath, fighting against the swell of anxiety that rose within him. This jacket is just a piece of clothing, James, he reminded himself, yet it felt like so much more. With a decisive moment, he pulled it from the hanger and slipped it on, the familiar weight settling comfortably on his shoulders. 

James looked at himself in the mirror, the reflection staring back at him was a man still fighting battles. With a shameful sigh, he adjusted the collar, feeling the jacket’s fabric against his skin. When he stepped outside, the brisk October wind greeted him, a sharp contrast to the warmth inside. 

Laura stood at the door, a look of surprise mixed with concern crossing her face.

“Why are you still wearing that jacket?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she gestured to the fabric. “You know… after everything that happened in...” She couldn’t bring herself to say the name of the haunting town.

James shrugged, a faint smile creeping onto his face. “I still like it. It’s comfortable.” 

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “You’re so weird, James,” she teased, nudging him with her shoulder as they made their way down the path toward the car.

“Weird or not, let’s get you to school on time little girl,” he said, his tone quite firm. Together, they stepped into the brisk morning air, ready to face whatever the day had in store.

‧───────────────

Dropping Laura off at school had become a routine, but for James, it was anything but simple. As they approached the bustling entrance, he felt a familiar tightening in his chest, a sense of dread creeping over him like a heavy fog. It wasn’t the school itself or the noise of children chattering and laughing; it was the attention he attracted.

In a small town where traditional family structures were the norm, a single father with a daughter who didn’t even remotely resemble him stood out like a sore thumb. James had chosen to keep his past private, and he was grateful that Laura’s adoption remained a secret. He avoided any conversations that might lead to questions about their relationship or as to why he was alone, fearing the scrutiny that came with revealing the truth. After all, in the eyes of the world, he was just a man dropping off his daughter, and that was how he wanted it to stay.

As they parked and stepped out of the car, the sun shone brightly, but it felt cold against his skin. He could already sense the gazes of the mothers lingering on him as he helped Laura with her backpack. Their eyes were sharp, curious, sizing him up like sharks circling prey, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of vulnerability. James kept his head down, focusing on Laura as she adjusted her straps and prepared to head inside.

“Have a good day, okay?” he said, forcing a smile as she turned to him, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she waved goodbye.

“Bye, James!” she called, her voice full of cheer as she dashed toward the school gates, her ponytail swinging behind her. 

With her back turned, James felt the full weight of the mothers’ stares. He could almost hear the whispers beneath their breath, speculating about him—why he was alone, where Laura’s mother was, and why they didn’t look alike. It was all too easy to imagine the conclusions they would jump to, and he wanted no part of it. 

Every step he took toward his car felt like walking through a minefield. He avoided eye contact at all costs, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground as he navigated through the throngs of parents and children. Conversations buzzed around him, but he focused solely on his breathing, trying to ignore the anxiety tightening around his chest.

As he passed a small group of mothers standing near the entrance, he couldn’t help but catch snippets of their conversations, even as he tried to block them out.

“Did you see him? He looks so sad,” one of them whispered, her voice dripping with faux concern. “Who could leave such a handsome man alone?”

James felt a familiar flush creep up his neck, a mix of embarrassment and irritation. He quickened his pace, but their comments followed him like shadows.

“I know, right? A single father is so sexy,” another chimed in. “I wish my husband was as committed to our son’s school life.”

He clenched his jaw, biting back a retort. The last thing he wanted was to be part of their gossip, yet he was helpless against the words that floated through the air like smoke. Each compliment felt like a reminder of everything he wanted to avoid—attention, scrutiny, and the inevitable questions.

As he reached the edge of the parking lot, he heard another mother say, “I heard there’s a parents-teacher meeting tonight. Can you imagine? He’ll probably be all alone again. It’s such a shame.”

The words hit him like a cold slap, and he paused, taking a moment to gather himself. The thought of attending the meeting, sent a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over him. Why did they have to bring that up now?

He finally reached his car, fumbling for his keys in his pocket as he tried to push the whispers from his mind. The weight of judgement lingered in the air, but he didn’t look back. He slipped into the driver’s seat, exhaling slowly as he gripped the steering wheel. “Just another day,” he murmured to himself, willing his heart to calm. 

James had avoided women religiously since he came back, erecting barriers around himself that felt both protective and suffocating. The loss of Mary had left a gaping hole in his heart, one that he couldn’t bear to fill with anyone else. Allowing himself to indulge in the warmth of another felt like an insult to her memory.

In the years following her death, he had retreated into himself, building walls high enough to keep the world—and the painful reminders of his past—at bay. He threw himself into fatherhood, pouring all his energy into raising Laura and ensuring she felt loved and secure. She was his anchor, the one bright spot in the dark fog of his grief. Yet, in avoiding connections with women, he had inadvertently created a deep well of pent-up frustrations within himself—frustrations that simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

Every time he caught himself looking at a woman, whether it was a fleeting glance at a passerby or—especially a longer gaze at Laura’s teacher during a school event, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. What am I doing? He would ask himself, immediately diverting his eyes, as if the very act of looking was a betrayal of the love he once held dear. He had convinced himself that he wasn’t ready to move forward, but in truth, he was terrified of what that would mean. 

In the quiet moments, when he was alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the weight of his solitude. The nights grew long and lonely, and sometimes he found himself longing for the comfort of another person—a hand to hold, a voice to soothe him. 

But the thought of crossing that line felt insurmountable, like stepping onto a precipice with no way back. He often wondered if this self-imposed exile was healthy or just a way of avoiding the inevitable. Deep down, he knew that if he ever did let someone in, it would come with a torrent of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face—the guilt, the grief, and the fear of moving on without forgetting.

Sometimes, when the darkness of the night enveloped him and the oppressive solitude weighed heavily upon his chest, James found himself struggling to resist his deepest, most shameful urges. Alone in the dim light of his bedroom, the air thick with silence, he would reach for the only source of warmth he had left—his own body.

But every time he started to jerk himself, trying to think about anyone other than Mary, he would falter. His thoughts would slip, no matter how hard he tried to redirect them. The moment he ventured into the realm of fantasy, attempting to conjure images of the warmth he longed for, his mind would betray him. Instead of the embrace of another, he would see Mary’s face—her soft smile, the way her eyes sparkled with mischief, the lightness in her laughter that had once filled their home. The memory of her enveloped him, suffocating and punishing him in its intensity, and he would feel a deep-seated shame clawing at his insides.

But jerking off while thinking about his dead wife, the one he had killed, felt utterly wrong. 

With a trembling hand, he'd stroke his hardening cock, trying to drown out the memories that haunted him. But no matter how hard he tried to push them away, they always crept back in, taking over his mind and filling him with an overwhelming sense of guilt. Images of Mary would flood his vision, her soft smile and sparkling eyes etched into his mind, along with the lightness of her laughter that once filled their home.

As he stroked faster, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, he could feel the pressure building inside him. But just as he was about to reach the edge of ecstasy, he would see her face again, and the guilt would consume him. How could he possibly find pleasure in this, knowing what he had done to her? 

The guilt was overwhelming, flooding his senses as he would try to push it all away, but it clung to him like a shadow. Tears would fill his eyes, hot and stinging, blurring his vision as the shame washed over him. He would cry, feeling pathetic and broken, as if indulging in his own body was another betrayal on a long list he had made in his mind. How could I even think of anyone else? He would chastise himself, the guilt wrapping around his heart like a vice, squeezing tighter until it became unbearable.

Knowing that he could never truly find solace in this act, James would eventually release his warm cum spilling onto his hand and stomach. But even in the aftermath of his orgasm, the guilt remained, and he would lie there, spent and broken, wondering how he could ever redeem himself.

It was a cycle of longing and despair that left him feeling more isolated than before. He would swipe at his tears, but they would keep coming, relentless and unyielding. The echoes of his cries seemed to linger in the air, a haunting reminder that he was still trapped in a cycle of grief that he could never escape…

‧───────────────

The day had finally drawn to a close, and the muted hum of office chatter began to fade as the fluorescent lights overhead flickered in their final moments. James gathered his belongings, the familiar weight of his briefcase resting heavily in his hand. The corporate world had wrapped around him like a well-worn coat, the same job he had held before, one that felt both calming and predictable. 

It paid well enough to keep the bills at bay and provided a stable life for him and Laura, allowing him to indulge her little whims—the occasional treat, a new book or doll, or even a day out at the beach. 

As he waved goodbye to his coworkers, offering polite smiles and half-hearted chuckles, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of isolation. Their lives seemed so vibrant, filled with laughter and casual conversations about weekend plans, while he felt like an outsider peering in. Part of him wished he could simply slip away unnoticed, disappearing into the anonymity of the evening. But the thought of the upcoming parent-teacher meeting loomed over him like a dark cloud, the spectre of his insecurities rising to the surface. 

What if Laura’s teacher had concerns about her progress? What if she brought up issues he was completely unaware of? The prospect of engaging in a discussion that could highlight his shortcomings as a parent filled him with an unfamiliar anxiety. He recalled how he had struggled to help her with her homework due to his absent mind, the frustration evident in both their faces as they would argue over James’ implications. Laura would always end up saying that she wished she had a better family…

As he walked through the now empty parking lot, James’s mind drifted to the scenario of the meeting. Maybe it was a bit late, and he secretly hoped Laura’s teacher wouldn’t want to linger past the working usual hour to talk with him. He envisioned himself slipping away, feigning an urgent call or an unforeseen obligation, but guilt gnawed at him, tugging at his conscience. 

He couldn’t let Laura down; she had come to rely on him, and he owed it to her to at least try.

“Just get through it,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as if to clear the impending doubts swirling in his mind. The crisp October air washed over him like a cleansing wave, invigorating him for just a moment. Inhaling deeply, he felt the coolness slice through the tension that had built up in his chest throughout the day, if only temporarily.

Sliding into the driver’s seat of his ageing car, he turned the key in the ignition, the familiar rumble reassuring him, if only slightly. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard; he still had a little time before he needed to pick Laura up from school. As he drove toward the school, the streets blurred by in a rush of colors, and he allowed himself to mentally prepare for the meeting. 

Maybe he could muster enough courage by the time he arrived, but deep down, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that this meeting would push him closer to confronting the ghosts of his past—something he had been desperately trying to avoid.

Thoughts of Mary flitted through his mind, uninvited yet persistent. What would she think of him now? Would she be proud of how he was trying to raise Laura, or would she shake her head in disappointment? These questions haunted him as he navigated the familiar streets. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions roiling within him. 

The school building came into view, and he parked in a spot near the entrance. As he sat there for a moment, staring at the looming structure that housed his daughter’s daily adventures. With a deep breath, he pushed open the car door, stepping out into the cool evening air. 

As he approached the entrance, he reminded himself that this was part of the job of being a parent—a role he was still desperately trying to fully embrace. After all, it was true she deserved more than a father lost in his own grief.

As he approached the school gate, he spotted her standing there, the last child waiting to be picked up. His heart sank at the sight; he had hoped to arrive earlier, to be there for her when the final bell rang. A wave of guilt washed over him, but when Laura turned and her face lit up with a smile, that guilt was momentarily pushed aside.

At least she wasn’t angry. 

“James!” she called out, her voice bright and cheerful, as she stretched out her hand toward him. He could see a small backpack slung over her shoulder, and his heart swelled at how she looked—so much like a little girl embracing the world, unbothered by the worries that often plagued him.

“Hey,” he replied, kneeling slightly to take her small hand in his. 

As he thanked the school attendant, a friendly woman with kind eyes who had watched over Laura, he glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her teacher. He didn’t see anyone lingering by the entrance, and a relieved sigh escaped him. Perhaps she had decided to leave, not waiting for him to discuss whatever concerns she may have had about Laura. That was one less thing for him to handle, and he felt a slight weight lift off his shoulders.

“Let’s go home, shall we?” he suggested, his tone light as he turned to lead Laura away. The sight of her eager nod and bright smile made his heart feel lighter, even if just for a moment. He began to walk toward the car, feeling a sense of normalcy return to him—until a soft voice called out behind him.

“Mr. Sunderland!” 

Here’s an expansion on James' perception of you:

James turned, the sound of your voice pulling him back from his thoughts. You were striding toward him, your expression a mix of determination and urgency, the late afternoon light catching in your soft hair. 

There was something striking about your presence that always made his heart race, even amidst the rising anxiety he felt at these interactions. It was as if you carried a warmth with you, an energy that seemed to radiate in the space around you, igniting a flicker of something long dormant within him.

“I was just about to leave,” you said, a hint of breathlessness in your tone as you approached. “I wanted to talk to you before you went. Is this a good time?” You looked unsure.

James glanced at Laura, who was watching the exchange with curious eyes. He felt the familiar knot of anxiety twist in his stomach but nodded, trying to mask his apprehension with a calm demeanour. “Sure, I have a moment.”

“Laura’s been doing really well, by the way,” you continued, your voice lightening as you spoke about his daughter. “She’s incredibly bright and has made some good friends this semester. I’m really proud of her progress.”

James felt a flicker of warmth at your praise. He was grateful to see Laura thriving, especially after the rough patches they had navigated together. “Thank you. I know she’s been working hard,” he replied, glancing down at her, who was beaming at your words.

“But…” you paused, your tone shifting slightly. “There are some areas where she might need a bit more support. I think if we work together, we can help her really shine.”

James felt a wave of gratitude and unease wash over him. While he wanted to support Laura, the idea of deeper involvement with her teaching felt daunting. “What do you suggest?”

Your eyes met his, and he felt a strange mix of comfort and vulnerability in that gaze. You began outlining a few ideas, your passion for teaching evident in your animated gestures. He found himself hanging on your words, drawn in by the way you spoke.

As you began to speak about Laura’s progress, he couldn't help but take in the little details—the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about the kids, the way your hands moved animatedly as you explained your thoughts, and the curve of your soft pink lips. It struck him how youthful and beautiful you looked, filled with a vibrancy that he found both comforting and terrifying. 

He had known you for years since Laura started school, but he had always kept his distance, avoiding lingering too long in your presence. Every encounter felt like a double-edged sword; he wanted to connect, to know you better, but the fear of what that meant held him back. Your passion for teaching shone through, and it was evident that you genuinely cared for each child, especially his daughter. 

Yet, for James, that made you all the more dangerous.  It was a kind of warmth that he couldn’t dare to approach or touch, as if it would burn his skin. Your laughter and bright smiles were like sunlight piercing through the clouds, illuminating the shadows that loomed over his heart. 

But it also reminded him of how far removed he was from that happiness. 

The innocence and light you carried felt worlds away from the darkness he had endured. It made him question if he was even deserving of your kindness, let alone your attention—even if it was strictly professional. You had a purity about you that felt both inviting and forbidding. It was the kind of innocence that reminded him of everything he had hoped for once—everything he felt unworthy of now. How could someone like you, who radiated joy and hope, ever understand the darkness that clung to him? The guilt and despair that wrapped around his heart like a vice? 

Yet, as you continued, he realised that part of him didn’t want this moment to end. Just a short while ago, he had dreaded this conversation, but now he found himself wishing to listen to your soft voice all night long.

As you concluded your thoughts about Laura, your smile remained bright, and for a moment, James caught himself wishing he could linger just a bit longer in your presence, absorbing the warmth you exuded. But the instinct to retreat kicked in, a familiar defence mechanism rising to shield him from the vulnerability he felt around you. 

“Thanks for the feedback,” he said, forcing a smile as he tried to mask the storm of emotions brewing inside him. “I appreciate you taking the time.”

You smiled back, but there was a flicker of something in your eyes—curiosity, concern? 

He couldn’t quite decipher it. 

As you stood there, a moment of silence stretched between you, and James noticed a flicker of hesitation in your eyes. You looked shy, as if you were unsure whether you were crossing a line by speaking up. 

“Mr. Sunderland,” you began, your voice soft, “are you okay? I’ve noticed you’ve looked... a bit tired lately.” 

The question caught him off guard, and for a fleeting moment, he found himself wondering if it was painfully oblivious or truly observant of the details that everyone else seemed to overlook. But quickly, he concluded that he must have been projecting his exhaustion more than he realised, and he must definitely look tired. 

The question wasn’t intimate.

He forced a smile, trying to shake off the weight of your concern. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied too quickly, dismissing your worry as he nodded almost vigorously. “Just, you know, work and everything.” 

For a heartbeat, you searched his face, perhaps hoping to see something more, a glimpse of the truth that lay beneath his carefully crafted exterior. But after a moment of hesitation, you seemed to accept his response. You nodded, though there was still a hint of worry shadowing your features. 

“If you or Laura need anything, please let me know,” you insisted gently. “I’d be more than happy to help.” 

The kindness in your offer made his chest tighten, his heart pounding with a mix of gratitude and desire. He appreciated it, truly, but it also fueled the raging fire of lust that had consumed him. Here you were, simply trying to be helpful, and yet he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to have you all to himself, to explore every inch of your body and lose himself in your embrace.

His mind raced with vivid, graphic images of you—unbuttoning your shirt, revealing your tantalising curves; running his hands over your smooth skin; kissing and licking your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat. He could almost taste the sweet moan that would escape your parted lips, the moan of a woman ready to surrender to his sinful, wanton needs. The very idea of it made his breath catch in his throat and his cock twitch in his pants.

He felt like a beast, a predator stalking its prey, as he watched you. Every move you made was a tease, every word you spoke a seductive whisper that echoed in his mind and stoked the flames of his desire. You were a forbidden, irresistible delight that he craved with every fibre of his being.

“Thank you,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper and his voice painfully strained. “That means a lot.” He managed to nod, hoping to convey his gratitude without revealing the turmoil churning inside him.

James' lips curled into a polite smile, but his dark thoughts raged like wildfire beneath the surface. He tried to ignore the forced gentleness of his own tone, reminding himself that he was only being polite. Yet, every word he uttered was weighed down by heavy lust for you, and the knowledge that he should never let these desires surface again.

As you stood there, a mixture of warmth and uncertainty radiating from your presence, he felt a pang of regret. You were offering him a lifeline, yet he felt as though he was dragging you into a murky depth he didn’t know how to escape. The moment hung between you, a fragile thread of connection that he wanted to reach for, yet feared would only end in disappointment. In your eyes, he saw kindness, concern, and a spark of something he dared not acknowledge. But with every passing second, he also felt the walls he had built around himself begin to tremble, as if you might be the catalyst for change he had been both longing for and dreading.

“I should go,” you said, breaking the silence, and James felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment wash over him.

“Right,” he replied, forcing his mind to focus on the present. “Thank you Miss, and have a good night.”

You offered him one last warm smile before turning to leave, and he watched you go, feeling the weight of what had happened. The kindness you had shown him stirred something deep within—a longing he couldn’t quite satisfy.

[certifiablyinsanez]

Mammon is great ace representation: an essay on aphobia in the Hellaverse fandom

I’m seeing a lot of people be mad about Mammon having a thing for Leviathan. And I’m going to need the fandom to step back and examine these issues, because they are 100% rooted in aphobia. I have been out as an oriented aroace person for over 10 years if you want to doubt my credentials, rather than listen to my analysis, lived experience and reflect.

So. Tell me Hellaverse fandom; why, when it comes to Alastor, who is a character who very clearly has zero interest in others, it is always a chorus of people saying “aces can have sex”, “aces can enjoy sex”, “it’s not harmful to the ace community to use Alastor for shipping material, he isn’t real and asexuality and aromanticism is a huge spectrum”, “Aroace people can still date and have sex”?

But when it comes to Mammon, he is “bad asexual representation”, he “clearly experiences sexual attraction”, “he can’t be demisexual”, etc.

No genuinely, why is this? I want you to examine this, think on it from a place of neutral examination and come to your own conclusions. Because this is a worrisome double standard. This can for starters, be an instance of fat phobia. Because out of the two of them, Alastor is thin, and therefore closer to the beauty standard, which is hysterical considering that Alastor canonically has horrible hygiene, and I don’t think I know a single person who thinks that stank ass body and breath is attractive. Mammon, as seen from the slovenly way he eats, can potentially be assumed to have poor hygiene as well, but it has a very different connotation because of his weight. [Research the connection between thin privilege and body odor/hygiene. It’s very real].

I can spend a lot of time and energy going into the shipping dynamics between the shows, as well as how Alastor is a more “shippable” character in comparison to Mammon, but I honestly don’t find this as interesting or as compelling as to what I’m about to say next.

Because aphobia in the real world is still very alive and well today. In my 10+ years of being in the ace community, I have genuinely spent a lot of emotional energy, time, knowledge, experience, and compassion, just fighting for the right to even be acknowledged as queer. I have vivid memories from when I was first out of the closet at the age of 16, telling ace people across apps and forums that they were valid, that they weren’t broken, that they were deserving of love, respect, and a place in the queer community. I was telling people, younger, my age, and older that they shouldn’t kill themselves, that they had worth beyond what they could do in the bedroom for others. I had to convince people that they didn’t owe anyone sex, and that they were in fact being sexually abused by their partners. I was on the phone with people in tears. I spent HOURS of my life in these DMs at an age where I was a suffering, mentally ill queer child that was also being victimized by aphobia. Still to this day people think the “A” stands for ally. And still to this day people have discord about our community as a whole. I have had to sit and watch as people went from loudly proclaiming with their whole chest that asexual people didn’t exist, or at the very least weren’t queer. Then years went by and it became less and less okay to say things like that, because asexual people finally had fought long enough and had supported each other enough that we discovered our voices and began to use them. So people were finally facing the consequences of saying bigoted shit.

And now that they can’t say that asexuals aren’t queer, they moved on to another group. Demisexuals. Demisexuals by far have it roughest, because while there are many micro labels in our community to explain our diverse range of experiences, demisexual is probably the most well known one. And every handful of months or so I have to use my voice once again to stand up for my people, because an attack on one of us is an attack on all of us, and people on the internet have made it clear that they have no qualms of attacking us. The asexual and aromantic community have made extremely valuable contributions to the queer community that are entirely overlooked because we are not valued in it.

And this is why I have been an outspoken proponent of my displeasure over Alastor being a character that is the most shipped with others, and my disdain for the fanbase has grown even wider after Mammons appearance in Mastermind. It is a painful reminder of all the discrimination I’ve faced over the years, that my community still goes through. Because people are contrarians. Alastor is canonically asexual, and other aspects of his character are reflective of aromanticism as well. Well, the fanbase doesn’t like this so much. If you genuinely pay attention, you’ll notice this is a trend with a lot of other aroace characters. My favorite example is Peridot from Steven Universe, a canonical aroace character. In the show, Peridot goes through a lot of unlearning and growth. The scene where she tries to fuse with Garnet has massive implications for a few reasons. Because one, she is genuine in her desire to understand Garnet, and fusion better. And two, fusion while forbidden on Homeworld, is commonplace and normal in the Crystal Gems. As a Crystal Gem, she feels this is what is now expected of her. This is a major experience in the aspec community, as living in a cis heteronormative society means that sex, marriage and children are all things expected of each individual, which is dangerous and harmful ideology to everyone, asexual/aromantic people as well. Peridot couldn’t go through with the fusion, but that didn’t stop the fandom salivating, and foaming at the mouth over a potential Lapis/Peridot fusion. People were genuinely mad at Rebecca Sugar for never making that pairing canon, when they had absolutely no right to behave the way they did. Let’s not forget how the fans also misgendered Rebecca Sugar constantly. It was absolutely bigoted.

This is happening with Alastor. Fans feel entitled to ship him with whomever, an entitlement that is not seen with other characters. When people ship Vaggie with Angel, there is backlash, and for good reason. Because people understand that despite the fact that Vivienne Medrano said people can ship whatever, shipping a gay man with a woman and a gay woman with a man is…gross. It is wrong, it is disrespectful of their identities, and is forcing heteronormativity onto characters that are strict in their sexualities. Most people are able to recognize the thinly veiled homophobia. But Alastor does not receive the same treatment, and in fact receives the opposite treatment. I don’t know what I could say to convince you that the aroace coded character in a show being the #1 most shipped is thinly veiled aphobia the same way Vaggie x Angel is thinly veiled homophobia.

Now what does that have to do with Mammon? Mammon seems to not be aroace coded like Alastor, and for some reason, that has thoroughly pissed people off. Because Mammon is not the “acceptable” caricature of an asexual person. Most allosexual (non-asexual and/or aromantic people) view being asexual as being synonymous with being aromantic, which shows a painful lack of understanding and at times respect for the diversity of our community. Alastor fits this category, so he’s an “acceptable asexual”, while also essentially being a toy for shippers. But Mammon, with his clear attraction to Leviathan, is a “bastardization” of the asexual image. When we aren’t being viewed as broken, we’re often being viewed as chaste, virginal, and innocent with attachments to infantilization. But Mammon, with his aggressive and even icky approach to flirting with Leviathan, is seen as a subversion of this, which for people who don’t understand our community, hate. And these people are blaming Vivienne for having “terrible ace rep” when in actuality, having multiple ace characters having very little in common is actually fantastic rep. Because there are many labels in our community that Mammon can fit into as an asexual. To me, he looks like a sex-positive, high libido, demisexual. He’s known Leviathan for thousands of years, of course it makes sense that he would be into her, but not into anyone else which would explain why his “posse” are just female robots. This could also be because of his classism, but I genuinely think that he’s just demisexual. And you already know how people feel about demisexuals.

If you’ve read this far and have genuinely set aside your biases and personal feelings like I requested in the beginning, I appreciate that. Because from my own lived experience, the double standard between Alastor and Mammon doesn’t annoy me; it frightens me.

Because what the fandom is actually saying when they do these things is this:

“We see you as a homogenous group. Your voices go in one ear and out the other. If you don’t conform to our values and standards, we won’t give you the respect or recognition you deserve. If you don’t conform to my view of your group, you lose my “allyship”. We do not see your identity as a sexuality in its own right, but rather a literary device we can play with. I do not care to learn more about your community, your culture, or your struggles. I barely (if at all) acknowledge you as your own sexual minority and marginalized group. I barely acknowledge (if at all) that you are queer at all. I do not care about your feelings about societal biases that I might carry, I don’t care about how you’ve lived it, because it takes away my fun and fantasies. Because I devalue your group as a whole, your voices mean little. Your narrative is mine to do with as I please.”

I really hope you can see my perspective and understand the sincere place this comes from. Thanks for reading.

[rivetgoth]

The fact that I’ve seen a few people try to analyze I Saw the TV Glow through a lens of it being about like, fandom and obsession with media and nostalgia being bad ?? is genuinely blowing my mind. Obviously there’s the fact that this movie is as unambiguously about being trans as it can possibly be without just saying outright “this is a movie about being trans” but I also think this is crazy because I would say it actually has one of the most unambiguously positive relationships with concepts like “media consumption” and “nostalgia” that I’ve seen in a movie.

Like, to say it’s a shallow interpretation of the film to call it “about media/fandom” (and especially a negative depiction of such things!) is putting it quite kindly because I kind of feel that anyone who utters such sentiments didn’t actually understand the core element of the entire movie: “The Pink Opaque” is not a show. Commentary the film makes about watching “The Pink Opaque” cannot translate to commentary on watching shows broadly because the movie spends half its runtime making it explicitly clear that “The Pink Opaque” may be a show that exists in a literal sense but is not one in a figurative sense. “The Pink Opaque” represents the possibilities of childhood and innocence. Innocence that still is not free from judgment—Owen gets told the show is for girls, Maddy’s friend accuses her of sexual harassment on account of her sexuality while they were watching it together—but it’s the moment in your youth (or any time! it doesn’t have to go away!) when the possibility of queerness and more explicitly queer utopia feels real to you. The external pressures to conform are still there but you can tune them out if just for a moment to envision a future and a life for yourself free of it and living authentically. I think this is an experience all LGBT people can relate to, but in the case of ISTTVG it’s very explicitly primarily focusing on queer femininity, predominantly transfemininity, but in Maddy’s case as well she is a queer woman (I’ve seen some interpretations of her as transmasculine but I disagree personally). Hence the on-the-nose nature of it being PINK.

What feels very genius about Schoenbrun making it about a show though is that it’s so generational, right? For all of us LGBT people who grew up in the age of screens that WAS where a lot of that early imagination going wild resided. The first time you explore a new name is on anonymous forums. The first time you explore your masculinity or femininity is with which character you relate to in a show, or which gender you select in Pokémon. Movies and shows with “queer subtext” or even without give young LGBT people the chance to envision relationships and futures for themselves, what many grow up and call “shipping.” You have your first gay crush while watching your favorite movies. You envy those of your true gender while watching your favorite movies. Amongst many other things when Maddy watches “The Pink Opaque” she’s given access to a world where two women share this intimate connection and overcome obstacles together. When Owen watches “The Pink Opaque” they’re given access to a world where femininity is a real option for their future.

The relationship these characters have to “The Pink Opaque” is a net positive and the movie makes that so incredibly obvious when Owen goes back to rewatch it later and finds that it’s nothing like how they remembered, it feels childish and immature and dumb. That is a bad thing. This is a bad thing. The movie wants you to see this as a bad thing. This is the result of repression, of conversion therapy, of violent coercion into normative lifestyle—That sense of limitless possibility is destroyed and the idea of accessing one’s transness, of imagining this utopia where you CAN be yourself and live as a woman, strong and beautiful on the other side of the screen as said in the film, is lost. Now you tell yourself it feels silly, it feels childish to imagine such things, it’s not nearly as deep and meaningful as you believed it was when you were younger and less inhibited, or it’s at the very least easier to tell yourself that. Owen’s feeling embarrassed is of note here. If it weren’t for these external pressures that have been internalized they very well may have been able to still enjoy the show, even as they’ve aged and grown and matured, even if their perspective has changed a little. But they can’t. Not yet, at least.

I feel kind of out of my mind seeing people try to approach it through a lens of commentating on media consumption because it’s so deeply missing the layers of what’s actually being said… and not even in a wildly obfuscated way. The movie is ABOUT the relationship these characters have to “The Pink Opaque” and how the loss of that is a bad thing. How you can possibly watch it and see it being about some kind of growth from obsessive media consumption is mind boggling to me. Seeing multiple reviews and posts in tags about it is crazy. One thing I really like about this movie is that it so confidently argues for a more positive interpretation of being obsessed with “fantasy” and the childlike wonder of the limitless possibilities of fiction. I think that’s a very very trans narrative, as I mentioned it feels tied deeply into Queer Utopia, and I find it much more bold of a stance to take. In a world where people tell trans individuals (and especially trans women) that their identities are works of fiction or products of the imagination or even caused by excessive media consumption, to embrace these things and turn them over and use them as a symbol of the whimsy and innocence and excitement that first ignites that spark as a positive, thrilling, beautiful thing is very cool.

[seeminglyseph]

I really appreciate that Eurylochus in Epic I am pretty sure is adapted from a character in the original who is at the very least somewhat antagonistic and cowardly in characterization and has spun him into a compelling and interesting character who has genuinely caused the fandom to basically to be like “but was he wrong though?”

Because like, the fact that at multiple points both Odysseus and Eurylochus have been right at different points of their adventure and just too fucked up emotionally or too “we can’t talk about things” to like. Clear up the issues they were having, means that they just. Became a tragedy.

And it is especially beautiful because Eurylochus and Polites bring this weight of friendship and loss to Odysseus in Epic, despite their existence in the Odyssey fully lacking that characterization. Though I think it is part of the miscommunication at times because like. Perspective. And if you try to look up extra information from the source text to give more context, Eurylochus is so different in that source text that like… it will back up arguments in favour of Odysseus more easily. But modern sensibilities side with Eurylochus more easily due to monarchs and tyrants like… heavily falling out of favour. So things like kings, gods, princes, captains, status, and rank are like… they exist but they aren’t seen the same.

Like the Odyssey is set in the Mycenaean age, late Bronze Age. This was a tale of ancient times when Homer was telling it. So by modern standards things can’t help but be archaic in ways. Especially given that The Iliad and Odyssey have so much to do with colonization and war and just like. Contemplating it. Existing in it and the aftermaths of it, and being conscious that it is being told to a world of people who are still acting and living in a unifying country due to colonization, that is expanding and growing its power with war and language and colonization. And the stories of the past wars are both glorious and tragic because of the necessity for glory to the heroes of the past but caution and understanding that…

Like Troy was once favoured by Zeus, that favour can be lost or swayed. Only the gods can count on their power lasting for eternity, men must know that a grudge can bloom anywhere and topple the mightiest kingdom if he does not mind his actions carefully.

The Aeneid, by Virgil which is written much later and I admit I have only read a summary, refers to Odysseus (through his Roman name Ulysses) really negatively, but that’s partially because the Romans kinda saw themselves as refugees and survivors of Troy. So like. By the time the Aeneid was being written, it was kinda the story of “those bastards who burnt our home down” from what I understand.

“Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?” For realsies. Looking things up apparently the Aeneid was the most popular version of both the Odyssey and the Iliad for a while and it wasn’t until the World Wars that Homer’s versions came back into fashion. Part of that was translation issues but still, damn.

This has become the most unhinged ramble, I’m sorry. I don’t know what any of this is even about. Translation? Perspective? Adaptation? The power of storytelling? All of it? Honestly the fact of the matter is that Eurylochus has been adapted to a new character for Epic, but he fits the narrative of the Odyssey especially as far as we need it to be told today because of how power structures work, but it’s been executed extremely well.

It keeps the technicalities of the traits of the poem “cowardice” and “mutiny” and creates a character with insecurity and missing sense of self who is afraid in a reasonable way and in order to overcome that fear reacts with aggression or violence. But in a way that is encouraged, acceptable or rewarded for a soldier. However, as a second in command, he is accustomed to having a role where he checks Odysseus’ plans for flaws. This is a good position to have him in when you’re plotting a battle action, it’s a bad position to have him in when you need him to provide a united front to keep the crew from panicking.

His position as both one of the crew and Odysseus’ Right Hand Man puts him in a position where he gets part of Odysseus’ picture, and is used to a relationship where he can be comfortable and doubtful and easy with Odysseus, however Odysseus as the Captain and the King cannot be fallible in the eyes of his men, because his men need to be able to follow his orders without question in the case of a crisis or it will be a serious issue.

Honestly the whole “I need you to be able to trust me and follow my orders in a crisis” is… part of general insubordination going on into modern day practice in crisis response and military as far as I understand it so like. I do get that. Though like. They are… two deeply damaged and traumatized men who just… cannot have a proper conversation with each other.

And also I am of the opinion that Odysseus in Puppeteer, when he brushes off Eurylochys’ attempted confession with his

“There's only so much left we can endure”

I am pretty sure that is not just brushing off, that is fully Odysseus admitting to Eurylochus like “I can’t handle anything else, please.” Like. My brain is making parallels to FMA “terrible day for rain” and Eurylochus drops it because he’s looking at a man on the verge of breaking down, and grants him some dignity or peace.

I mean Mutiny calls back to Puppeteer when Odysseus calls Eurylochus out, he would have done the same. Eurylochus wanted to cut and run on Circe’s island, leaving the men she had to their fate. But since Odysseus has all the power he carries all the blame, which makes it easier when any of the others make a mistake or something goes wrong. And it’s part of the reason Ody goes back to being Captain as soon as the crew is in trouble again. If they’ve angered a god, it’s better and easier to have Odysseus deal with it.

Unfortunately for everyone Odysseus has now crossed the Despair Event Horizon and all that matters is Penelope, Telemachus, and Ithaca. Everyone else can go fuck themselves.

Which, you know. Bodes well for all the fucked up dweebs who’ve been harassing his family for years. That’s probably gonna go great for them considering all the last shreds of his humanity he sacrificed to get home and see them safe.

[galadrieljones]

i actually wonder why you ship daryl and beth? i see them as friends and yeah i watched their scenes over and over and i didn’t see any love between them. And i see beth younger than him and i see daryl see her as a friend and sister So what is your reasons to ship them anyway!?

I'm going to assume this question is in good faith and that you are genuinely interested in why I (and many others) ship bethyl, so I'll answer in good (albeit cautious) faith. I'm also going to tag some of my friends and mutuals at the end who I would like to encourage to share why they, personally, ship bethyl.

First, know that I don't care if people don't ship bethyl. I also am not beholden to shipping "canon" ships. I don't care about any of that, and I think it's boring to restrict one's interest in shipping to what is canon or what the fandom accepts. You're free not to ship bethyl, and I won't be mad. That's your choice!!

BUT, since you're here of your own volition, realize that I personally don't buy the bethyl bond as "sibling-coded" argument at all lol. I can understand if someone just doesn't want them to be together, because they want Daryl to be with another character or something. That's fine and perfectly rational. I can also understand if someone does not like age difference ships, and they reject it on those grounds alone. Okay! That's your preference. BUT, Beth was 18 by the events of "Still." And the argument that they share a "sibling-coded" bond has never held water for me. Believe me when I say that I can see the argument for C*ryl before I can see the argument for Daryl and Beth being "sibling-coded," and that's saying a LOT. I've literally never had anyone successfully explain this perception to me using actual evidence from the show or from the actors/showrunners outside the show. It is ALWAYS subjective. And when confronted with evidence of a bethyl romance, these same people tend to just invoke their *age difference* as if that, in and of itself, is a dealbreaker.

IMPORTANT: It's NOT a dealbreaker, but some people in fandom these days mistake personal preference for moral paradigm, and these people tend to be very judgmental and to screech a lot and to spread rumors and to bully others. The same exact thing is happening to Neggie. But I'm not going to get into that right now.

Now, you say you don't see how they could possibly be "romantic." Of course, that's totally fine, but you will need to try and explain this to thousands of people lol. I am actually not super interested in going through, in detail, why I ship bethyl from a defensive position. I'm very sick of defending something that is, frankly, entirely unproblematic and also...popular! Other than Rickyl (which is a non-canon slash ship), Bethyl, even ten years after her exit from the flagship, is still the most popular TWD ship on AO3. It was popular at the time that the show aired. Jeffrey Dean Morgan's wife ships bethyl lol. Bethyl is not "weird." It's not even a rare pair!

AND YET, to put so briefly, if you *actually* care: I PERSONALLY love bethyl because I believe their characters exist in beautiful harmony. Beth is an artist. Her priority is beauty and continuously discovering what it means to live. She believes in the goodness of people. She is a religious character who has faith in God's love. She is, as Norman put it a long time ago, like a little light at the end of the tunnel for Daryl. She reminds Daryl of what it means to live, what it means to trust people and to have faith. She protects him from his own demons and reconnects him to the beauty that remains in a dying, horrific world. Daryl tends to forget about his own well-being and his own happiness. He prioritizes brute survival, because he was taught to do this over many years of emotional and physical abuse as a child. He is "used to things being ugly" and he frequently blames himself for things that go wrong. He closes himself off to others because he has a difficult time trusting that they won't abandon him or die. At the moonshine shack, Beth confronts him on this, and he confronts her right back. Beth isn't used to being challenged by men. But he challenges her to be better and to face her own insecurities as well. He makes her stronger. She pries open his heart. At the moonshine shack, she physically grabs him to remind him that he is still alive, and that everyone they've lost was once alive, too, and that just because they might be dead now, that's not his fault. The two of them still alive, while others are dead, that's not his fault, and there is still goodness in the world and things worth living for.

Speaking of physical touch, you really should rewatch "Alone" if you want to understand the physical and romantic chemistry between Beth and Daryl. There is literally so much that I could go through, but I don't have time lol.

The moment I fell in love with bethyl was actually in "30 Days Without an Accident," when Beth embraces Daryl in such a way that reassures him that he is not alone in a desperately lonely situation. Both characters are battling demons in this scene. But it's somewhat subtextual. If you don't watch closely, you may miss it.

That said, as has been established, a LOT of people did NOT miss it lol. It's just that a lot of people also want Daryl to be with someone else, or they feel the need to moralize on the internet. Neither one of those things is relevant to me, though I accept them as realities.

Anyway, I hope this helps! ->

@sasusc @frangipanilove @twdmusicboxmystery @pipergirl17 @sweetz1919

@emsee22 @drewmoll03 @bookqueenrules @bethiscomingsoon

@angelthefirst1 @bethgreeneprevails @im-immortal @rose-andthe-thorn @wdway @boltthrutheheart

and anyone else, I know I've forgotten some people 😩. I just went off the top of my head, so please chime in on why you love bethyl, or feel free to completely ignore this ❤️

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Alicent has got it going on (modern!Alicent x younger!Reader)

synopsis: You go out for a night of fun with your friends, but while you are at the bar, the object of your desire is somewhere entirely else.

warnings: age gap (reader is of age), flirting, dirty talk & smut adjacent, afab reader

word count: 2.1k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Even after countless years of being friends with Helaena, to a point where the two of you would call each other sisters, it still feels weird to just walk into the house that your mom had to drive you to almost every day for years when you were a kid. Times had changed. You grew up and so you could make your own way to the villa and enter through the front door with a key that Helaena had gifted you some years back when the two of you entered college.

Upon entering you hear a voice in the living room which, when further investigating, you find out to be Alicent´s. Currently arguing with someone on the phone. Once she sees you, she holds the phone away from her ear and hangs up.

“Oh, I didn´t see you there.” She greets you with a rare, genuine smile.

"Sorry. I didn't realise you were on a call. I just wanted to say hi." You greet your best friend's mother. You have always found Alicent to be absolutely stunning and so you can´t hide a small blush heating up your cheeks as you give her a small wave.

Alicent turns her full attention towards you at the sound of your voice. She knew you had grown up but hadn’t seen you in quite a while. “Hello, dear. How are you?” Her eyebrows raise, awaiting your answer, not even mentioning the call.

“I've been holding up just fine. How about you? Helaena has told me you're working a lot these days." You give the older woman a small smile in return.

"Yes, dear. It's been non-stop, but that´s business." At her words you remember that she had taken over leading the firm in her husband´s stead only a short while ago when Helaena´s father became too sick to continue to do so indefinitely.

Throughout all this time, she doesn´t take her eyes off you for a single second. Those beautiful, big, brown eyes that seemed to shimmer every time you saw her in spite of or maybe because of the stress she was put under. In the end she wasn´t that much older than you. That thought gets your cheeks to burn a little brighter.

“I hope you remember to take breaks too. The company can be glad to finally be led by someone competent, but it would be a shame to see you work yourself into a burnout or something.” You shuffle your feet on the ground, making her even more aware of your painfully awkward attraction towards her.

"I'm sure I'll be fine. I've become quite used to it. Thank you for your concerns though, dear. That is very sweet.” Alicent says confidently, her tone is filled with pride and she takes your hand to let you feel her gratitude for your expression of concern.

The second the older woman´s skin touches yours, has your brain screaming so loud that you are scared anyone would be able to hear. "You know, if you ever do want a break, you should come out to our bar or something. If you don't think going out with your daughter's friend is weird or something. You would be surprised what an evening out can bring about."

The words let not only her eyes widen and eyebrows shoot up for a second, but your own as well.

Suddenly the air in the room is noticeably thicker. You feel like you don´t get enough of it into your lungs, making your head spin like a carousel and the way the older woman’s hand squeezes yours only throws you off the rails even more.

Before you know it, her hand lets go of yours, not giving any time for disappointment to settle, as they instantly settle on your waist, with her thumbs brushing over your ribs just below the swell of your breasts. In response to her pulling you closer, your hands go to tightly hold her by the waste rubbing tight circles into the soft, by lavish silk covered flesh.

Hesitantly your faces moved closer bit by bit. It felt right to be so close to her, to feel her auburn curls brush against your cheeks and make almost a curtain to shut out the rest of the world. Your noses rub against each other from the proximity and little fireworks tingle over your lips. The moment feels so magical.

The horn of Baela´s car being pressed down continuously, to alert approximately the entire neighbourhood and the muffled screams of the young woman to go along with it pull the two of you back to reality against your will.

“I have to go…” You whisper, basking in the energy of the moment a bit longer. Wishing you could stay there with Alicent for even just one more moment. A wish that is reciprocated by her. You are hyper aware of your hands that rest against her waist to keep her perfect body close when Alicent pulls away from you. And though they have never touched to begin with, your lips chase hers for a second and a whimper leaves your lungs.

"You are perfect." You whisper breathlessly when your eyes flutter back open.

Those moments with Alicent stay in your mind's forefront the entire time you sit beside your friends in the cinema. Thinking about the almost kiss rather than paying attention to whatever movie Helaena and Baela had decided on.

The three of you head to a bar afterwards to meet up with a few more friends. Each of you getting enough drinks to ensure everyone was a good bit more than just lightly buzzed. In your inebriated state you remember you still had Alicent´s number saved from something or another a few months ago. So without thinking you reach into your purse to pull out your phone to send the woman a short message. "I can't get you out of my mind. Your hands felt like pure heaven."

Normally you would have spent the time until the device pinged with a response biting at your nails to relief the nervous energy that would course through your system, but it doesn´t happen. The earlier interaction had made you feel quite confident in the attraction being requited. At the same time, back at the Targaryen-Hightower home Alicent smirked at the message as her body began tingling anew. "I miss touching you. Your body is just so irresistible." She replied, leaning back in her chair as she waited for her phone to vibrate again. If anyone would see her right now, they would probably say she looks like a giddy schoolgirl. And you didn´t look much better. Biting your lip to keep yourself from kicking your feet at the warm giddiness that spread through your body with every answer you received from her.

"Gods, I wish I could be with you right this second so I could taste your skin and worship you just the way you deserve." One of your friends that keeps you company while the others go to get more drinks eyes you suspiciously, but luckily says nothing. Counting myself lucky in that I put my phone away and try to concentrate on the conversation at hand, but feeling it vibrate once more pulls your thoughts right back to Alicent. "And what exactly would this worship entail?" Reads the message, making your mind reel and run wild with everything you wanted to do to her.

"It would entail me kissing all over your body and feeling you all over. Tracing your skin with my tongue up your thighs to your most sensitive spot and then I would spend my time between your thighs until your throat would be sore from screaming my name." You can feel your breath become shallow already even though there was no ending to the evening in sight yet and there was no chance to leave early either, but no matter how much you told yourself to calm down it is to no use. The arousal that pools between your legs and sticks your panties to your core at the thought of the older woman won´t let up. It takes longer for another answer to roll in this time, due to Alicent willing her reddened cheeks and racing heart to calm down in order to think clearly again. Only then she finds an appropriate response to type out and send with lightly trembling fingers. “You sure know how to make me feel things, don’t you?”

Despite willing herself to calm down, Alicent's body became flushed. Her breath hitched at the vivid description, and her body became flooded with a rush of pure heat. She couldn’t believe someone could speak so filthy. Her jaw hung open with a dumb expression as she read the message over and over again.

“It´s only what you deserve. You work so hard; you deserve to feel good every once in a while.” You respond almost instantly. Barely making it in time to hide the screen again as Helaena looks over your shoulder.

“The youth and their phones….” She clicks her tongue but breaks out in a giggle not even a few seconds after. “Who has you smiling like this?”

Judging by the redness spread over all over her face she is far more affected by the alcohol than the rest of you. Then again, she always was the one worst at handling her booze. Conveniently this gave you the perfect topic change.

“Maybe you should drink some water before you get another round.” You snicker at her antics.

“I´m fine, mom.” She chanted exaggeratedly, though even the sentiment can´t ruin her mood.

So, you shrug it of and decide that keeping an eye on her would be all you can do. A smart choice, as the night soon gets cut short, by her getting a little too hyper. Leading to Baela dropping you off at the house, before getting herself back to Driftmark. Bless the seven that the Velaryon stayed sober and thus could help you to basically carry her all the way from the car to her room as to not make a major commotion and wake everyone else up. Unfortunately, it is a whole different story to get her to sleep. A seemingly impossible task throughout which you have to remind yourself how much you loved your best friend repeatedly.

Once Helaena is sound asleep naturally you are wide awake. Tossing, turning and scrolling through your phone in a now much more sober state. Then you remember the texts you had sent to Alicent earlier and with your friend fast asleep, you sneak out of her room and down the hall to Alicent's. Opening and closing the door as quietly as possible, you find the woman splayed out in her bed. Clad in a short, dark green satin nightdress and illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. The cool light makes her look even more gorgeous than the sunlight earlier, though you thought that wasn't possible. Her breasts rise and fall in deep, even breaths. It´s a sight for the gods. On your tiptoes you make your way over to the bed. Feeling the soft mattress dip underneath your weight, as you lean over her unsuspecting form. For a second you doubt what you are about to do, but when the Hightower woman shifts in her unconscious state to expose her neck more and her soft lips part for a sigh to escape, you´re done for.

Your own lips part and your head lowers to press a wet kiss to her neck. Then another and another as Alicent shifts and writhes beneath, before finally waking up with a gasp of your name.

“Shhh, yes it´s me.” You whisper to her to signal to stay quiet.

She blinks the sleep from her eyes with rapid movements and threads her fingers into your hair. “Don´t stop, please…”

She begs in a breathy, irresistible voice and who were you to deny her. With a brush of the fingers, you put a strand of auburn curls behind her ear, triggering a full body shiver when your nails scrape along the sensitive skin.

“I won´t. I promise.” You vow in return and seal it by sealing her lips with your in the kiss that should have happened hours ago. Followed by so much more that, if titled the best night of your life, would still be an understatement. Having her thighs tremble on the sides of your head as she tried to keep her body away from resting fully on your head, no matter how often you tried to nudge her down by the hips. Satisfied couldn´t even begin to capture the air around you as you lay beside each other, tightly entangled, bathed in the light of the rising sun and on the brink of sleep.

[crazylittlejester]

honestly, the fandom dismisses wars trauma a little too much. Have you noticed it’s always never brought up in his character studies? And when it is, it’s totally brushed off him and cia had a WEIRDDD age gap. It’s also weird hyrule warriors never acknowledges this. I honestly don’t think it’s gonna be recognized in LU but idk. It’s just weird how quickly the fandom brushed over all that. What’s your opinion? Cuz you have cool opinions lol

Disclaimer: Everything you’re about to read is my opinion and my interpretation of a game. I’m not talking about headcanons (unless otherwise specified), I’m just talking about my experience with the game and everything else. All of this is from MY perspective interacting with the canon material from both Hyrule Warriors and Linked Universe. Also! I am dyslexic, my bad for oddly autocorrected words or weird spelling mistakes

A huge reason I started yapping so much on this blog was because I saw a lot of people either actively disliking Wars, making fucking INSANE comments about his body, overly sexualizing him, or just straight up dismissing him all together and it helped me get over my posting anxiety because it genuinely made me so upset. He’s been my favorite character since only a few posts into LU (i originally liked Twilight better based sheerly on design but it took like only a few posts before that changed), and I love HW Link in general, and I thought it was actually crazy that more people didn’t like him. I’ve written several of my own characters studies on him, some of which I’ve posted, others lay trapped in my old laptop in the form of a full on analysis paper, never to see the light of day

You can send a full grown man to war and he will come back with trauma, imagine what happens when you grab some poor teenager and tell him everything relies on him. Literally forget Cia for a minute, Link as a teenager was taken and shoved into a full on war where his men turned on him and in order to survive, he had to kill. Monsters and hylians alike, it was him or them, and he’s the one who made it out. Not to mention he was constantly running all over the battle field trying to prevent the hylian captains from being defeated, and he most certainly lost many people he cared about just because he couldn’t get there in time. He had to carry around the guilt that this war was started because some sorceress was obsessed with him ON TOP of that

This was said earlier by an anon on a post I reblogged, and I’ve been saying it myself for months but I will say it again: If Warriors had been a girl and been obsessed over that same way, I fucking GUARANTEE you people would be taking it more seriously

I literally just typed in the character name and the game she’s from and that is what google had to say about her. If an older man was described as ‘harboring serious affections’ and having a ‘desire to claim’ a teenage girl I literally don’t think it would’ve been glossed over or ignored like it is

I don’t think nintendo was ever gonna elaborate or really recognize it in the game, they never go super in depth on anything in Zelda games from my experience, and I doubt Jojo will really get into it in LU mainly just because she has so much going on with eight other dudes and potentially two more (based on the header on the linked universe blog)

I saw a lot of characterizations of Warriors and opinions of him that made me so confused and also a bit mad, such that he is a womanizer or a stupid twink (of which he is neither), and that’s a huge reason I started writing fanfiction for this fandom. Firstly to just create more content for my favorite character because I rarely saw any that focused on him, and secondly because I didn’t like some (NOT ALL) of how I was seeing him characterized. (i cannot emphasize enough: NOT ALL people in the fandom characterized him this way, I saw plenty of amazing and beautiful characterizations of Warriors)

I do not think he is a womanizer at all, in fact I fully believe his flirtatious behavior is a defense mechanism. I think his ‘woman problems’ are the fact that he’s afraid of women (especially older women) he doesn’t know or trust, but also that’s just my opinion. And I am genuinely a bit worried that now that people have stopped talking about how they noticed he seemed off a few updates ago and now that they’re saying he’s back to normal that people are going to start reducing him to a stupid dramatic twink again, as if Warriors was not the one who came up with the initial plan to fight Dink and was not the first one to fight him. As if this is not a man who lead a god damn army. As if everything he’s done and everything he is no longer matters because he’s ‘pretty’

anyways I have a lot of thoughts about him in general and im just glad the fandom has been treating him better as of late, but i am a bit worried it’s just gonna go back to how it was

thanks for the ask!! sorry i got a bit carried away 😭

[maxdibert]

The Marauders fandom is one that someone could easily enter only to quickly lose interest, and that's exactly how I feel right now. I “joined” (or rather got dragged into) it around late September or early October of THIS YEAR, drawn in by the excitement of everyone creating their own stories for the characters. As someone who also loves to write, I found it fascinating and immediately felt a connection to the community.

The biggest mistake of my life has been getting involved in this fandom. The level of toxicity is almost shocking. It baffles me that many of the members are four years older than I am, able to pay taxes and even vote. I had hoped that their age would mean they could engage in meaningful discussions, conduct thorough research, analyze characters effectively, and write about them with depth. But I’ve been let down repeatedly.

First, it was Jegulus, a ship I couldn't understand because, I admit, I am someone who takes canon a little seriously even when I'm making fanon things, and these two do NOT seem like they'd work well together. Then, it was like characters that are known to be BAD PEOPLE were suddenly cool kids that were either gay, twinks or just given this sob story so people could like them (Regulus, Sirius, Barty Crouch Jr, Remus, James, hell, even Evan and Mulciber...). Next, the girls were thrown to the side and given WLW ships just so they could stay out of the way of MLM ships.

What finally pushed me over the edge was the overwhelming disdain for Severus Snape. The constant name-calling, the people who genuinely believed that being hung upside down for humiliation wasn't a form of sexual assault, and the accusations of him stalking or being obsessed with Lily—all while completely overlooking the fact that he represents one of the truest reflections of a guy clearly needing HELP and STABILITY. The idea that "he deserved to be bullied" really stung, and it feels like I’m constantly being pushed away for simply admitting that his character means everything to me. After all, he offers me something to delve into, to grasp and wrestle with in my thoughts. He's also realistic, because wouldn't you be miserable too if you had to grow up in a domestic abusive situation, go to school only to get bullied??

How can I come back to a fandom after so long, happy to finally become social again after being socially anxious, only for the fandom to be crap? How can I look up to anyone my age and think they know what they're doing when THIS is how they act? I understand it's fiction; I know that I shouldn't be pissed because it is a fanon-based community, BUT fiction and reality can cross over and over and over again. There's a point that some people need to realize that whatever they say or do with a fictional character will mirror how they'll react to people like that in the real world, even if they don't notice they're doing it.

(P.S. - I don't have good grammar, so this might be hard to read...sorry!)

Honestly, I’m sorry you had such a terrible experience. I guess for those who also enjoy Severus as a character or are his fans, being in that fandom must be a nightmare. I mean, I’ve literally seen them fangirl over absolutely EVERY character except him—I have no idea what their deal is. Some people say it’s because adult Severus is unpleasant, but, hello? Barty Crouch Jr.? Seriously? That man not only tortured a couple into insanity but also locked a man in a trunk for months and triggered the son of the couple he drove insane. To me, it all boils down to beauty privilege and classism. What I don’t understand is looking down on people who are in that fandom but also happen to be Snape fans. I mean, there are plenty of people within Snapedom who, for example, like the Marauders or are fans of Sirius or Lily, and I’ve never seen anyone give them crap for it. I wouldn’t give anyone crap for that.

In fact, my issue with the Marauders' fandom isn’t that they like the Marauders but how they try to justify the unjustifiable, whitewash their actions, or completely destroy their canon personalities.

Anyway, I feel really bad because, in the end, people use the internet to pass the time, have fun, vent, or escape the real world, and it’s such a shame that they’re met with rejection instead. But, honestly, what can you expect from people who minimize or whitewash bullying other than more bullying?

[saintsenara]

Wait why are you not a fan of Snape and Hermione?? 2 nerds who care a socially awkward amount about the things they care about nerding out together at levels of romance people who can be chill and normal about things can’t comprehend?? It’s not one of my fav ships but I can definitely see it!

I headcanon that Snape picks on Hermione being a muggle raised know it all thirsty to prove and lacking self awareness because he was one himself when he arrived at school and James and Sirius picked on him for it! It’s like that you’re most repulsed by the things you’re self conscious of in yourself thing to me. Or maybe a him trying to live out being the “cool” one in that dynamic thing

But when she’s a grown woman and more self possessed like he became too I feel like that same energy ness has potential for love!

Hermione is famously respectful and compassionate enough towards all beings to be more understanding than say Lily Evans of his prickly tender ego if he had another m word style outburst and such a people pleaser she’d keep coming back for more snark as long as he peppered it with the odd encouraging compliment

And I feel like a Snape in reciprocated love could absolutely veer into inventing beautiful and helpful spells to impress his lover or sending “made me think of u 😘” notes with verses of elaborate obscure poetry territory that would be frankly the level of literary and academic courtship our Herms deserves 😌

Is it cause they’d both be the highly strung worrier one and they both need someone to ground them? Or maybe too pessimistic together and one of them needs to be the cheerful one?

anon, i genuinely love this for you - i'm always thrilled to get people explaining their love for ships in the ol' inbox, especially when they're ships i don't instinctively vibe with, and i have been won round to stranger premises than this by a passionate defence of why two characters should kiss.

where i still think snamione isn't clicking for me, however, is that the way you describe both snape and hermione here doesn't align in any significant way with what i personally think would be interesting to explore about either character in a relationship and have them still feel meaningfully like their canon selves.

[i will say, though - because i always think it's worth reiterating my fandom commitment towards being neither a cop nor a priest - that i literally don't give a shit about either the age gap or the student-teacher dynamic. i know that's an objection to pairings like snarry and snamione which lots of people do express. but i will never be one of them.]

the primary reason that i don't vibe with many of the more... sapiosexual hermione ships [by which i mean not only snamione but tomione] is that they hang on the idea that hermione's intellect expresses itself in a way we never actually see in canon.

or, the idea that snape and hermione are intellectually compatible [and that they would enjoy hanging out being nerdy about stuff] is just... not true.

throughout the seven-book canon, the way that hermione shows herself to be clever is that she displays an excellent memory and an enormous capacity to rote-learn. her intelligence is overwhelmingly demonstrated - both in the classroom and during the trio's year on the run - by her being able to regurgitate swathes of information, very usually verbatim from the source she got it from.

she is clearly able to use this ability to retain information to understand the theoretical component of magic in a way neither harry nor ron ever manage, and she is able to use this understanding of theory to work out how to perform spells which are ahead of her expected level on the hogwarts curriculum.

and this is intelligence - and i want to be very clear that i'm not trying to suggest that hermione shouldn't be thought of as intellectual, or that her academic achievements should be devalued. but it isn't the way snape's intelligence manifests itself.

because hermione is never shown - at any point in canon - to be a particularly creative or experimental thinker.

she places an enormous intellectual trust in disciplinary authority - teachers and textbooks - and is frequently rattled when these are revealed to be partial or incorrect, as we see in her shock at hogwarts: a history not mentioning house elves or her anger at harry getting better results by following the modified instructions in the prince's textbook [despite knowing nothing about the theory underpinning them] than she does with the "official" ones.

she also regards the gatekeeping of inquiry which disciplinary boundaries enforce to be a positive thing and she never displays any inclination to step beyond them. she dislikes the spells in the prince's textbook because they aren't ministry-approved - and i must say that i think the idea that she'd be won over by a man creating spells for her is wishful thinking...

she is immediately mistrustful of anything she can't find something she regards as an empirical source for - notice, for example, that she only comes round to the idea that prophecies might be real once she encounters them in the ministry of magic.

even when we see her using magic on her own terms - the jinx she uses on marietta edgecombe, for example; or the protean charm on the da coins - the magic she's using is sophisticated, and is being applied in a way which wouldn't be classroom-sanctioned, but it's not magic which is being used in a way which is removed from the spell's original purpose. the protean charm on the da coins is impressive because it's a flawless execution of newt-level magic by a sixteen-year-old. it's not impressive because hermione is using it in a strange, experimental, or radical way.

[in contrast, the dark mark - which harry notes the coins mimic - is clearly a spell voldemort himself invents.]

snape, on the other hand, is an experimenter. he's someone who clearly sees magic as a creative force which he has every right to shape as he sees fit by adaptation and invention. and he's someone who evidently rejects the logic of disciplinary gatekeeping - one tension in his relationship with dumbledore prior to half-blood prince is that snape evidently retains an enormous intellectual interest in the dark arts [which, as he tells us, are an area of magic which is feared precisely because they can't be neatly contained within disciplinary boxes - they are ever-changing, unfixed, mutating...]

and it's these conflicting views of what magic is and how it should be used and thought about which is the cause of the intellectual incompatibility we see between snape and hermione in canon.

he is unequivocally in the wrong for his dismissive classroom manner towards her - because he is an adult and she is a child. but he isn't wrong in principle that hermione just repeating what she's read in the textbook and refusing to synthesise her knowledge [she always goes massively over word limits! she never gives answers in class in her own words!] isn't actually a demonstration that she understands the material. [and therefore something a good teacher would guide her through conquering... snape having no interest in doing this is his own fault.]

and - from a snamione-specific perspective - it's all the evidence snape needs that, actually, they're not going to enjoy hanging out chatting about academic pursuits. hermione values knowledge like a dragon hoards treasure. snape wants to take that treasure, melt it down, and turn it into new and weird things.

once again, i don't think this a flaw in either of their characters - it's just something which is. and i don't think it's an insurmountable obstacle to writing snamione, because i believe any ship is possible if an author has enough nerve. but it's an aspect of both characters' canon personalities [and hermione's above all] which never seems to make it into snamione fics - all of which, as far as i've encountered them, are beholden to an idea of hermione's approach to academia which is considerably more flexible than we actually see in the books.

of your other points, i'm not particularly convinced by the idea that snape sees his younger self in the teenage hermione. this isn't just for the reasons outlined above - hermione isn't trying to prove herself in the same way he was, which was by creating and experimenting in a bid to be noticed and considered impressive - but also because of the massive gulf in their respective class backgrounds.

hermione is really posh - and, while she's obviously subjected to discrimination at hogwarts on account of her blood-status, she also comes from a family with both the financial resources and the cultural language to make her familiar with the vibe of the elite muggle boarding schools hogwarts is a pastiche of.

the teen snape - in contrast - stands out from his cohort in that he is visually identifiable as working-class [which does appear to be genuinely unusual at hogwarts]. his class background is something which clearly drove a lot of the marauders' bullying of him [i'm sorry to the girlies who think james and sirius targeted him out of some righteous desire to stamp out his prejudice - it was because he was poor and uncouth] and which he still has a chip on his shoulder about as an adult.

this - again - is not an insurmountable barrier to a snamione relationship [as it's not a barrier to thousands of real-world partnerships and friendships]. but it is something an author needs to grapple with if they want to make the pairing - at least, in my opinion - seem plausible. but the standard vibe seems to be that snape would be comfortable in the grangers' home fairly quickly, and that he'd be delighted to have hermione swanning around offering suggestions for how they could do up spinner's end... instead of him resenting this as the unwelcome meddling of people who've never had to worry for money.

i'm also not particularly convinced by the idea that hermione would get over being called a mudblood - especially by an adult man. while i think it's completely plausible that she'd handle this differently than lily [although lily's reaction is entirely justified - and i don't think we should throw the baby out with the bathwater of contextualising the teenage snape and the motivating factors behind his decisions by pretending that cutting off your friend because he called you a slur is a petty, ill-thought-out, or unreasonable move], i don't think that her reaction would be automatically forgiving.

hermione is compassionate towards kreacher when he calls her a mudblood because kreacher is a slave, whose prejudicial views are inextricably bound up in the magic used to oppress him [i.e. that if he received an order to use the term, or to refuse to serve a muggleborn food, from his masters, he would have to punish himself violently if he disobeyed it]. she is not - quite rightly! - compassionate towards someone like draco malfoy when he calls her one, since he is a free person with full agency to choose not to do this.

could she forgive him - or snape - for using the term? sure! absolutely! but i don't think it's a given - and i also think she'd expect a demonstration of how sorry snape was which wouldn't necessarily align with how he'd think he'd demonstrated his regret.

i do agree that - as you say - hermione is a people-pleaser, and she definitely has a far greater tolerance for being treated cruelly by people she wants to impress [especially authority figures - including snape himself] than either harry or ron. and i think this has the potential to introduce an extremely thorny dynamic into a snamione fic - in which the power dynamic inherent in the age gap [which, to reiterate, i think is completely fine for an author to enjoy] is compounded by hermione being unwilling to anger or contradict snape [which is a vibe - as i've said in answer to an ask about harmony - we also see in her relationship with harry... it's also obviously exactly how snape's relationship with dumbledore works.]

on a couple of the more minor characterisation notes, i'm afraid that the idea of snape as a great romantic has never hit for me. it seems really bound up in the way alan rickman portrayed him in the films, which i've always found a bit toothless. i also don't like the trope of "actually snape's really hot" which seems to always accompany it - ugly, odd men to get to bone too!

[what he would be - i think - is a magpie. get ready to be handed odd stones and bits of leaves on dates.]

i also think they're highly-strung in ways which differ enough to mean they'd just annoy each other. hermione is highly-strung in that she flusters easily and is very poor under pressure, but she's actually pretty emotionally stable [and i'd dispute that she's a pessimist - this is a girl who thinks that she's successfully eradicating slavery at hogwarts by knitting hats; she's pretty robust, funny, cheerful, and idealistic]. snape is highly-strung in that he has a hair-trigger temper and is very emotionally volatile, but he's obviously an extraordinarily good liar, very quick on his feet, and very good under pressure. he'd think she panicked too much [and over insignificant things he didn't care about], she'd think he tanked the vibe of a date by taking offence at someone breathing too loudly.

where are they similar? well, they have a shared self-serving streak [hermione is appalled by behaviour from harry and ron she considers perfectly moral when she does it]; capacity for cruelty; tendency towards secrecy; tendency towards pettiness and pleasure in the misfortune of others; loathing of flying a broom; cutting sense of humour; stubbornness; resilience; clear dislike of slumming it in nature; love of puzzles; and a weakness for red hair.

i think you could make it work on the grounds that they'd probably have the time of their lives being haters together - especially, i feel, about rita skeeter.

and - y'know - because love is weird.

[pupmkincake2000]

Funny how I keep getting comments like this

And it's not that it's harmful,it's that it's just not right whatsoever 💀 all your reasons for them being together are faulty and are things shared between friends aswell.

So, the dude called me and my ship weird while (and I'll keep saying it nonstop) HankCon is the most harmless ship in this fandom.

Okay, we are not saying that people can't ship whoever they want, are we? Especially in this particular fandom? In which most of the ships have no logic behind them at all, yet people are quite fine with those just because they fit into people's standards of beauty and how guy x guy ships have to look like, in their opinion.

So my questions are like those I've seen on twitter: "why do people find it so hard to be silent haters? like genuinely? why is it so hard to see something you don't like and think "ew weird" without feeling the need to tell the person who likes it that you think its weird/bad/gross/wrong ??"

And here's the answer: It's because they need to feel like they have the moral high ground. Actual virtue signalling. Ewww you like this, here's why you're wrong.

And nobody was able to give me an open answer why HankCon seems so offensive to them. And we do not talk about age gap here, it is too ridiculous to bring this up as an argument even. We are not talking anbout father & son issue because canon relationship is still friends, any father & son as well as romance are headcanons. So why those who like father & son are supported and those who love romance and fucking between the character are hated?

In a fandom (with no canon ships, except maybe Kara x Luther) where people literally ship characters with everyone they want?

Someone on twitter also said that the massive increase in self-insert, kinning etc. has created parasocial relationships with fictional charas. It's always happened but it's more now. Any perceived attack (moral or otherwise) on the chara equals an attack on that person's identity.

But I doubt that's the only issue. Although the theory has its place, given the general infantilization of Connor, which, however, is immediately forgotten when people need him to be an adult.

If haters are here to spread morality and justice, why aren't they doing it in other fandoms? After all, as I've mentioned before, there is the Rick and Morty fandom where people ship a grandpa and a grandson and I've never heard of people hating on this ship. Why these people are not among those discussing, for example, the laws of Japan, where a man over forty can marry a sixteen-year-old (correct me if I'm mistaken) if it is really an age gap that bothers the haters so much? But for some reason they chose as a victim a harmless pairing that does not harm anyone and is not even as popular as it was before? Or the goal is to errase it from the fandom spaces completely? If so, I'd suggest those to go outside and touch the grass.

[aprilmayverse]

mayverse dash simulator

💅 pinkprlncesses Follow

🧟‍♀️ samuraishattered Follow op this is an incredibly fucked up and insensitive way to post about this. six people are dead. four of them are literal children. imagine losing a loved one and people are fucking memeing about it with supernatural. grow up. learn some fucking respect for the dead. this isn't just some quirky little fandom story like sharpie bath or whatever. these are real kids who had hopes and dreams and families and loved ones and now they are dead.

💅 pinkprlncesses Follow was it ever really that deep

🦴 trudycryme Follow New video about June July and Dysnomia Badmann's murders on the way! Special surprise at the end so stay tuned ;) Sponsored by Tender Lender <3

🦴 trudycryme Follow No fucking way

🩰 blood-and-books Follow wait, has anyone noticed that the accomplice in the bluecorp case and that 13 year old who killed her gfs parents and 2 random boys are half-sisters??

🍭 mera-duras-left-eyebrow Follow WAIT AND THEIR OLDEST SISTER HAD LINKS W/ BLUECORP TOO WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN

🪷 helloroses Follow does anyone remember how fucked up april may's career was. i rewatched pint-sized princesses after the news got out about her execution and like i know it was the 90s but what the fuck was going on there. it feels like a crime to watch it

🪷 helloroses Follow it's the same with her modelling career, why was she, a teenage girl, doing so many photoshoots where she was barely clothed. why did ad campaigns need all this

🦢 evilwomanenjoyer Follow why are we defending june july in 2018. she killed people. she murdered people. you are the same people who defend joe darke and dahlia hawthorne and matt engarde and fucking redd white. she took lives. where am i.

🐜 what-is-a-username420 Follow please learn about nuance and use your brain

🦢 evilwomanenjoyer Follow nuance is for fictional characters like pious priestess or whoever the fuck. not for real life situations like this.

🐜 what-is-a-username420 Follow sometimes im like "the reading comprehension on this site isnt THAT bad" and then i read shit like "nuance is for fiction not for real life"

🦴 trudycryme Follow I am truly, truly sorry for attempting to film those teenagers corpses and for breaking into the victims childhood home in an attempt to interview his family 2 days after the murder, I understand why I was wrong and I'm going to try my best to refrain from doing stuff like that next time lol. To further this, I'm starting a new merch collection and donating 20% of profits to JAVCV (Japanifornian Association for Victims of Violent Crime), buy it before the sale ends on March 4th!

🧟‍♀️ samuraishattered Follow not to be harsh but i hope you die

🌈 godsstrongestfujo Follow i think april may was a genuinely a bad person like she was just this rich woman who both did the modelling campaign + assisted in the murder to get money from her sugar daddy. shes not as innocent as yall make her out to be she just has pretty privelege

🍁 diskhorse-divorce Follow 1. she was not rich. she, her single mother, and sister were homeless for years. she had to be a child star and teen model to provide for herself and her family. they lived in a trailer at some point 2. she was very obviously being threatened by white. the courts said it was a lie because of fucking misogyny and white's power over her. 3. even if she did do it out of her own free will she still got executed over a crime where the death penalty at age 23 was not justified. 4. why are you calling a thirteen year old a bad person for doing an ad campaign where she was being heavily sexualised and exploited and stolen from you fucking weirdo

🩰 angelfawns Follow april may was such a tragic girl and an icon and so beautiful omg. she looked SO good during the summer 2008 ad campaign for bluecorp too. hold on i need to change my pfp

🐦‍⬛ proud-edgelord Follow if my parents named me teylhoure i wouldve killed myself too

[zuzuelectricbugaloo]

https://www.tumblr.com/franxdragonflyer/651102006179692544/oh-heres-a-fun-one-that-i-dont-think-has-been?source=share.

https://www.tumblr.com/yugogeer012/745656419540418560/how-do-you-genuinely-feel-about-epicsans-ships?source=share

I’m assuming here you want me to react to the links? In general if I’m given a link I’ll do that!

Okay, so, for the first ask, yes, I’m aware these are the Epictale characters’ canon sexualities, and that Yugo said Epic would be straight. I understand that since the creator said this it would be the canon for the material he’s created.

However, Epic to me, is very LGBTQIA-coded. He enjoys drag. He likes crossdressing. He constantly makes gay jokes and has been drawn (even if they were deleted/retconned) to flirt with and have romantic moments with male-identifying characters. I’m not saying Epic CANT like women, I’m only saying I think his sexuality would be more fluid, and that he’d be more interested in relationships where he’d have a deep personal connection to his partner prior.

Epic in Yugo canon also sexually harassed several people, including Cross, and it was played off as jokes before Yugo deleted pretty much everything with Epic in it. But that was out of a hatred for Epic and no apology was made. Nor, importantly, a declaration that it was no longer canon.

I firmly believe you shouldn’t harass a creator if you dislike their works or certain aspects of it. But you can respectfully dislike or disagree with something. I see those canon things about Epic and respectfully disagree. I understand that they are what Yugo says to or shown to be canon for him and his work, I don’t deny that.

So, I simply respectfully disagree, that Epic could love cringe humor and be flirty without harassment. (Yugo’s comedy back then brushed off SH as a joke, not just with Epic committing it but other characters as well). I know that’s what the creator says, but the way Epic was coded and intended to be is different to me than what Yugo ended up going with.

On that note, I also disagree that Epic is straight and find him very LGBTQIA-coded. He enjoys drag and referred to himself as feminine when in drag, with the name ‘Epica’, and that he’s a ‘beautiful woman’. Or when he privately crossdresses, like the time his brother opened his bedroom door and saw Epic in a nekommi outfit.

I think Epic’s tendency to do drag as a joke and also privately crossdresses (dressing feminine without the performative nature that he would in drag) is coded for Epic being in the closet and not yet come out, that Epic enjoys dressing feminine now and then but doesn’t and only to mock it out of self-denial. Given his age, he’s likely a baby gay and hasn’t even come out to Epictale Gaster or even his own brother yet, let alone himself, especially if Yugo says they’re straight as well.

(Which respectfully I also think canon Papyrus is bi or pan but, well, do what you like)

There was also a comic where Epic was watching anime with friends about the show Ranma, and was shown to be blushing and very sexually interested in the titular character as a female having a dick.

Things can be declared canon or written by creators one way but end up coded in another. For example, in the show Arcane, the creator Linke said that Jayce and Viktor are not written as canon and that they have a “brotherly” relationship. Yet when watching the show there is clearly romantic undertones and subtext between the two.

So you can respectfully disagree with something in canon and still have fun with it.

The second link with Yugo disliking Epic ships, yes, I know that as well, because Yugo has stated repeatedly how much he hates Epic and killed him off in the Epictale comics because of that. He wants nothing more to do with Epic fandom interactions and that includes ships.

So, what do you do with a creator who hates a character they’ve created but you adore? I believe you can respectfully disagree and have fun and adore that character, simply leave the creator out of it per their wishes.

I personally think Epic ships can be so much fun and cute, like Epic and Ink, Epic and Ccino, or even Epic and Cross variants like Crossfell. Pretty much anyone, I find Epic to be versatile like that.

[xxl4vend3rxx]

Keen observation: The Kny "Ship wars" are getting out of hand

(Disclaimer: This post has NOT been made to promote // encourage hate of ANY kind - it is simply me passing my opinion on recent events in this particular fandom)

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Let's begin. This post has been made to deliver my take on the, uh... insanely inappropriate actions of the fanbase for the popular anime and manga series: Demon slayer - Kimetsu No Yaiba - from the futile beginnings of shipping characters.

And do not mistake this for me saying people should not be shipping characters at all - I am a Multishipper myself, and I do think it is nice to see people coming up with beautiful art for them, and I have read some fics that have genuinely been so interesting I almost forget that it is cannon deviant.

What I AM saying is that people are literally allowed to do literally whatever they want. People want to ramble on about how immaculate their very specific Rarepair is? Let them. You see someone making art for a ship you don't like? Sit back and appreciate the art - Let them.

But the problem really begins when people start getting fiercely overprotective of their ships. It does seem a little silly to me, even as I'm typing this like why is this such an insane problem lmao??

And it's not even just limited to the Kny fandom - the HH (Hazbin Hotel) and BNHA//MHA (Boku No Hero Academia // My Hero Academia) fandoms are probably the best example of the shows getting low-key ruined by the fanbase - EVEN IN TADC WHERE THE CREATOR SPECIFICALLY SAID THAT THEY DO NOT CARE WHO PEOPLE SHIP. And I really don't think the media should be dragged down by a few people taking things way too far.

And if you have been following the drama going on in the Demon Slayer fandoms, particularly here on Tumblr and Pinterest - you already know what ships I'll be talking about.

*drumroll*

SaneGiyu // GiyuShino.

Like I previously mentioned, I am a Multishipper, and while I can appreciate GiyuShino - Like it is a cute ship, I see the vision and there is a little bit of evidence that can be interpreted as fuel for the ship, I used to ship it myself, by the time I had finished the Manga I was fully shipping SaneGiyu. Not to the point I say it's cannon per say, but where I can see the chemistry and I will use things from the manga to back up why the ship is plausible.

(This is such a stupid post) But then there are some people who ship SaneGiyu who are being toxic to GiyuShino shippers // Saying things like "Giyú is clearly gay!!" And I mean there is a pretty good case to be made that Tomioka is not interested in women, it's still just a headcannon and you literally cannot force someone else to think that??

Or "Shinobu is clearly a Lesbian!!" I personally like this headcannon, she is just too much of a girl boss to be with a man, but then looking at canon material, there isn't much to go off of that shows her to have an interest in women! - and no hate to ShinoMitsu shippers - it's cute x

"Please - the age gap is insane" And you know what? Fair enough. It is fair enough. She is 18 and he is 21. And that is a three year age gap, and in some cases there would be a rift in maturity, but I think that can fly out the window, as Kocho is clearly more mature than her age.

But then you need to look at context for the time and it isn't too outlandish. But then in the moderns School AU, hell no. That same age gap, in modern times with him being a teacher and her being a student?? THAT'S WEIRD.

But then on the other hand there are some GiyuShino shippers that make the opposite arguments; "Giyú is clearly straight" (Like I said, there is a clear case to be made that Tomioka has little to NO interest in women) or "Sanemi and Giyú hate each other!!" (That was a case of miscommunication between them, and was resolved by the manga's end, they are now - in cannon - seemingly good friends)

BUT.

I have now seen multiple accounts on Pinterest making Pins telling people to K!ll themselves - BECAUSE OF A SHIP??

Like excuse me?! They literally said they think these two fictional characters would be a cute couple - AND YOU TOLD THEM TO K!LL THEMSELF??? It's disgusting to say the least.

People: shipping is supposed to be a silly goofy fun thing we do to show our interests and explore AU's - NOT AN OPPORTUNITY TO HURT PEOPLE OVER SHIPPING. FICTIONAL. CHARACTERS.

But if you guys ever:

See people Proshipping? - report it if you want to.

See art for a ship you don't like? - hide it from your feed.

See people hating on a ship you like? - Remove / Block them.

See people leaving nasty comments on your // other people's posts? - Remove the comments, block them and report the usuer.

Just BLOCK the people causing the issues - do not become one of them.

TLDR: Let people ship what they want to PLEASE guys, lets just have fun with our fandoms x.

[monstrousgourmandizingcats]

Some books and stories that I think are worth reading in conversation with Yellowjackets

Shirley Jackson, all works but especially The Sundial, The Haunting of Hill House, and We Have Always Lived in the Castle. Jackson might or might not need any introduction in this fandom. The Sundial is her take on doomsday preppers, Hill House is of course her haunted house novel (one of the classics of that genre), and Castle has a female protagonist who makes Shauna look like a plaster saint.

Flannery O'Connor, The Violent Bear It Away. O'Connor's work has some of the most pervasive darkness and brutality of any major American writer (maybe Ambrose Bierce comes close), and the second of two novels that she completed before her death is no exception. (The first, Wise Blood, is also very good; the intended third, Why Do the Heathen Rage?, only exists as a fragmentary short story.) Francis Marion Tarwater is kidnapped and raised in the woods by his great-uncle, who is convinced that Francis is destined to be a prophet. The great-uncle's death commences a bizarre adventure involving auditory hallucinations, sinister truckers, an evil social worker, arson, developmental disabilities, and baptizing and drowning someone at the same time. Content warnings for all of the above plus rape. O'Connor is also a fairly racist author by today's standards--she was a white Southerner who died in 1964--so keep that in mind as well.

Ruth Ozeki, The Book of Form and Emptiness. Teenage protagonist is schizophrenic and also a channel for a genuinely supernatural force; well-intentioned but poorly-considered efforts to treat one of these issues make the other worse. Sound familiar? There are supporting characters who are affectionate parodies of Slavoj Zizek and Marie Kondo. A minor character is a middle-aged lesbian who cruises dating apps for hookups with much younger women. Some people find this book preachy and overwritten, but I really like it and would plug it even if I didn't because the author is someone whom I've met and who has been supportive of my own writing.

Yukio Mishima, The Decay of the Angel. Can be read in translation or in the original Japanese. This is the fourth and last book in a series called The Sea of Fertility but I wouldn't necessarily recommend the first three as particularly YJ-ish; Decay is because it deals at great length with issues of doubt and ambiguity about whether or not a genuinely held, but personally damaging, spiritual and religious belief is true. There's also more (as Randy Walsh would put it) lezzy stuff than is usual for Mishima, a gay man. Content warnings for elder abuse, sexual abuse of both children and vulnerable adults in previous books in the series, forced abortion in the first book if you decide to read the whole thing from the beginning, and the fact that in addition to being a great novelist the author was also a far-right political personality.

Howard Frank Mosher, Where the Rivers Flow North. An elderly Vermont lumberjack and his Native American common-law wife refuse to sell their land to a development company that wants to build a hydroelectric power plant. Tragedy ensues. I haven't read this one in a long time but some images from the movie stick in my mind as YJ-y. Lots of fire, water, and trees.

Leonard Cohen, Beautiful Losers. Yes, this is the same Leonard Cohen who later transitioned into songwriting and became a household name in that art form. Beautiful Losers is a very weird, very horny novel that he wrote as a young man; it deals with the submerged darkness and internal tension within Canadian and specifically Quebecois society. One of the main characters is Kateri Tekakwitha, a seventeenth-century Iroquois convert to Catholicism who was probably a lesbian in real life (although Cohen unfortunately seems unaware of this). This one actually shows up YJ directly; the song "God Is Alive, Magic Is Afoot" that plays in the season 2 finale takes its lyrics from a particularly strange passage.

Monica Ojeda, Jawbone. Can be read in translation or in the original Spanish. Extremely-online teenage girls at a posh bilingual Catholic high school in Ecuador start their own cult based on such time-honored fodder as Herman Melville novels, internet creepypasta (no, this book does not look or feel anything like Otherside Picnic), and their repressed but increasingly obvious desire for one another. The last part in particular gets the attention of their English teacher, whose own obsessive internalized homophobia grows into one of the most horrifying monstrous versions of itself I've ever read. Content warning for just about everything that could possibly imply, but especially involuntary confinement, religious and medical abuse, and a final chapter that I don't even know how to describe. Many thanks to @maryblackwood for introducing me to this one.

Jorge Luis Borges, lots of his works but especially "The Aleph," "The Cult of the Phoenix," and "The South." Can be read in translation or in the original Spanish. The three works I list are all short stories. The first deals with mystical experiences and the comprehensibility (or lack thereof) of the universe, the second with coded and submerged references to sexuality in general and homosexuality in particular, the third with leaving your well-appointed city home for a ranch in the middle of nowhere and almost immediately dying in a knife fight, which is surely a very YJ series of things to do.

H.P. Lovecraft, "The Colour out of Space," "The Dunwich Horror," "The Dreams in the Witch House," and "The Thing on the Doorstep." Lovecraft in general needs no introduction--the creepiness, the moroseness, the New Englandness, the purple heliotrope prose, his intense racism (recanted late in life but not in time to make any difference in his reception history) and the way his work reflects his fear of the Other. These short stories are noteworthy for having settings that are more woodsy and less maritime than is usual for Lovecraft's New England, for overtones of the supernatural rather than merely the alien, for featuring some of his few interesting female characters, and for their relative lack of obvious racial nastiness. Caveat lector nevertheless.

Herman Melville, Moby-Dick. It's Moby-Dick. Once you realize that Captain Ahab is forming a cult around the whale and his obsession with it you can't unrealize it.

[changbunnies]

Purple Hydrangeas (18+)

♡ Pairing: Sunshine!Changbin x Pessimistic!Reader

♡ Genre: best friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

♡ Word Count: 7.1k

♡ Summary: Y/N is a pessimistic flower shop owner still suffering from breakup. Changbin is her sunshiney best friend who wants to cheer her up any way he can. Sweetness ensues :)

♡ Warnings: reader has depression and it is a focal point of the fic, discussions about readers past relationship, a lot of self doubt and blame, very very brief mention of a family member that has passed away, that's about it i think but let me know if i forgot something!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): i am once again bringing you soft!dom changbin, petnames (love, angel, baby), nipple play, oral (f recieving), fingering (f recieving), multiple orgasms, overstim, body worship ??, protected piv for once (shocking), a sprinkle of cock warming, changbin is rougher at the end (due to reader's request). as usual lmk if i forgot something!

♡ Notes: this fic was written for the @skzwritingcafe prompt “blossoming love” ! it's my first time taking part in a fandom event and i hope you enjoy it! <3

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Life is like a flower. The beginning of your life, you are a bud, ready to grow and full of opportunity. Then the bloom, where your life is the most vibrant and beautiful it will ever be, all the time spent nurturing the bud of your youth culminating into the best years of your life.

And lastly, the wither, the inevitable end that everyone faces, where your color drains and leaves wilt, until you are nothing. Some reach this stage faster than others, but it will always come, an unavoidable permanence. 

Love is like a flower too– beautiful but fleeting, not meant to last forever. You learned all of this as a child, when gloom settled into you before you could even understand it was happening. And then again recently, when your boyfriend of over a year decided he was tired of dealing with your gloom, moving on to someone more vibrant, someone in the peak of their bloom.

You wanted to be angry, wanted to lash out in a bitter display of vitriol, but how could you when all of his critiques of your character were true? 

There was irony, you think, in being so jaded about life while owning and working in such a beautiful place, where every flower held a profoundly positive message. A flower shop inherited from your late grandmother, who taught you everything she knew about gardening and the language of flowers. There were so many messages a flower could hold– love, hope, a sense of peace; all things you didn’t have. 

Was it any wonder your boyfriend-turned-ex was tired of you? You always brought down the mood simply by existing. And the saddest part was that, even if he couldn’t see it, you were genuinely happy with him– the happiest you’d been in ages.

Maybe your personalities just clashed too much. Maybe your love languages differed too greatly, and the way you showed your care was lost on him. Maybe he couldn’t see who you really were underneath the dark layers, your light too dimmed even in your happiest moments. 

All you know is he gave you hope. He gave you love and belonging and connection and then he ripped it from you, stating your ‘constant sadness’ as his reason. He couldn’t stand it anymore– being with someone who was never happy that is.

And yes, you were sad often (depression will do that to a person), but could he really not see that you were often happy when he was there? Maybe you weren’t good at expressing what you were feeling, or maybe he found it draining to be around someone who was gloomy more often than they were happy.  

And that’s why you found yourself thinking you were never meant to be; he didn’t see the real you underneath the dark cloud that followed you. Or maybe he did, and didn’t like the reality of what he saw when the clouds dissipated.

Valid, you suppose; you don’t like what you see either. You’ve tried your hardest to change who you are, but the fabric that holds a person together is permanent. You try and try and try, with nothing to show for it in the end. 

But you carry on regardless, hoping one day that someone will love you as you are, flaws and all. You cook yourself dinner, you force yourself into the shower, and you continue running the shop, because the alternative would be withering, and you don't want that to be your fate just yet.

The bell chime that accompanies the opening of the front door breaks you from your grim inner thoughts, bringing your attention to your first customer of the day. You stiffen at first, mentally preparing yourself to put on your best customer service persona, but you soften when you notice it's your best friend, Changbin.

“Y/N~!” he smiles as he practically skips up to you, his unfaltering vibrance immediately lighting you up. He always has that effect on you– cheering you up effortlessly, just from the simple act of existing in the same space as you. And though he could easily call you ahead of time to tell you he plans on coming in the shop, he never does, always leaving it a pleasant surprise instead. 

You love when his loud voice rings out in your shop, excited to ask you for some new bouquet he doesn't entirely need but buys anyways just to support your business. He's always been like that– vibrant, positive, supportive and incredibly sweet. It was easy for you to become infatuated with him, even when your friendship first began in high school, but you’ve always done your best to push it aside. 

You’ve tried your best over the years to not to think about how much you adore him– the way his nose scrunches when he smiles brightly, the loud exclamations that accompany him when he enters the room, the cute mannerisms he has when talking about something he cares about. You try to ignore his adorable habit of forming his lips into a pout when he speaks, or the way his eyes sparkle when you talk to him about his favorite things. 

It was easier to put those feelings aside when you had someone else to focus on. You didn’t have to worry about just the mere existence of your best friend making your heart tremble when you had someone else to give your love to. But with each failed relationship, your heart always found its way back to Changbin. 

And maybe it was your own fault for always keeping him a priority in your life while dating, but you couldn’t help it. Because in your darkest moments, while the most depressed and alone you’d ever felt, he brought illumination to your gloom-filled world, always a shining beacon in the darkness that is your heart. He just makes you happy; it’s as simple as that. 

“I saw that hydrangeas are in season again,” Changbin smiles, pulling up the spare chair (that you have in the shop specifically for him) to sit in front of your work station. “They are your favorite right? The purple ones? You should make something with them!” 

Leave it to Changbin to remember something small you’ve mentioned in passing. He’s always done that– remember even the most trivial of things you tell him, smiling cutely whenever he recites what you’ve told him at a later date. You don’t know how he manages to retain all that useless information, how he can be so attentive and earnest, but it’s easily one of the qualities in him you love most.

“Are you really going to pay for a bouquet of my favorite flower instead of your own?” you ask with a slight giggle as you begin to gather the things you need to get started. “Hey, as long as I’m supporting you, it doesn’t matter! Just make whatever you think is pretty,” he answers with a laugh of his own.

The truth is, he just wants to see you happy. He can tell you’ve been really down since your breakup (even if you don’t want to admit it to him), and this is his way of getting you to do something that you’d enjoy without being too obvious.

And he has tried the obvious methods, of course– like binging your favorite movies in his apartment while you eat popcorn, or taking you out shopping with him to get that new pefume you've been eyeing, but every time you realize what he’s doing, you make an excuse for him not to do it. 

Variations of “oh, that’s okay, you don’t have to do that for me,” and “I’m fine Binnie, don’t worry about me!” leaving your lips every single time. He doesn’t understand why you don’t accept his care when he can obviously tell that you’re upset, but he figures you’ll accept his affection eventually. And until that day comes, he’ll commit himself to finding creative ways to show you he cares about you. 

There’s a comfortable silence that follows as Changbin watches you work. If he’s honest, he could easily sit and watch you for hours. He loves seeing the way your brows knit together and tongue sticks out slightly when you’re focusing on something, and the way your smile beams when something comes together the way you want it to. You’re so cute, even you don’t entirely realize it. 

“Hey,” he says, eventually breaking the silence, and you lift your head to look at him, a slight tilt to your head as a “hmm?” leaves you. “I just realized, I don’t think I know why purple hydrangeas are your favorite. Tell me about it?” He asks, genuine curiosity painting his face. 

Changbin knows you well– is acutely aware that you know everything there is to know about flowers and their languages and meanings. Every little fact about them is committed to your memory, so if one of them is your favorite, it must be for an explicit reason. 

You pause for a moment, debating on how much of your personal feelings you are willing to admit. Changbin is your friend, (a friend you most definitely have a crush on at that) but it’s still hard for you to talk about your feelings with him. And you have tried, but every time you feel like there’s a lump in your throat that prevents you from speaking, no matter how badly you may want to. 

“The desire to understand someone. Like.. really understand them. I’ve always wanted that.. To be understood,” you end up answering honestly despite the nerves, using your work to avoid direct eye contact.

You’re not often open about things like this, always finding it extremely difficult to be vulnerable, but if there’s anyone you trust in this world it’s Changbin. He’ll never look at you with judgment or discrimination, just genuine care. 

You look back at him now, taking notice of how intently he’s listening to you. He’s always done that, too– listen to you like there’s nothing else in the world that could take his attention away from you, like you’re the only one that exists.

You suppose that’s just him being polite or a good friend, as it’s only right to listen when talking to someone, but it still makes your heart flutter. And when he looks at you the way he is now, it makes you feel safe.  

“I feel.. alone, oftentimes. And like no one gets me, or wants to even try to get me. Like I’ll always be this way, no matter what I do to try and change it,” you continue with your admission. He’s quieter than usual following your statement, but that’s okay.

You didn’t say it expecting any sort of special response, and you can tell by the crinkle in his brow and the pout on his face that he’s reflecting on your words. He’s genuinely thinking about them, what they mean and what they say about you, and that’s all you really need from someone. You can tell he cares about what you said, and that’s enough. 

“All done!” You say with a smile not too long after, proudly holding out your completed arrangement for him to take. Maybe you're biased since it consists primarily of your favorite flower, but you truly think it’s one of your best arrangements. Changbin takes it from your hands, staring at it for a moment before looking up at you. 

There’s a pause, a much longer one than usual, and you tilt your head, looking at him in slight confusion. “Is there something you need?” “Here,” Changbin says, holding it back out to you. 

Huh? 

You look at him, the bouquet, and back up to him. His expression is serious, much more than you’ve ever known it to be. “Is there something wrong with it? Do you not like it?” You ask with a frown, genuinely sad and confused by the uncharacteristic reaction he’s giving you. 

“N-No, that’s not it, I..” he pauses another moment, red overtaking his face as he looks at you. Is he.. blushing? “This is how I feel,” Changbin continues, watching you intently for any change in expression as he speaks, “I.. want to understand you, I want to be there for you, I don’t want you to feel alone.” 

Time feels like it stops around you, his words slowly repeating in your head as you try to process them. Regardless of platonic or romantic intention, hearing him say those words to you makes a myriad of emotions rush to the surface. You’ve always known Changbin cares about you, but to hear it like this makes your heart race; especially when he’s using your favorite flower as the conduit for his feelings. 

You swallow, trying not to let the emotions pour out of you from a gesture so simple. With trembling hands, you accept the flowers from him, your heart jolting from his fingers brushing against yours. You've felt his hands a thousand times at this point, but it’s different in this moment. Everything is different.  

"I love you,” he says, making you turn your attention back to his face. This isn’t the way he intended on confessing his feelings to you, but if you really feel as alone as you say you do then.. He needs you to know. He can’t let you think that there's no one in this world that cares about you as deeply as he does, he can’t let you think that there’s no one who will listen to you, accept you, and love you as you are. 

Your stomach does full on summersaults now, mind racing impossibly fast. The incredibly handsome and simultaneously extremely cute friend you’ve been silently crushing on this entire time loves you? But he’s so vibrant and bright, and you’re.. You. What does he see in someone as gloomy as you?

“B-But I– I’m not–” you stutter, trying (and failing) to put your thoughts into words. You should be happy, but instead you feel dread, almost. You feel... Like he doesn’t realize what he’s signing up for, like once he realizes the true depth of your sadness he won't want to remain by your side. And even if he does stay with you, you’ll ruin him. You’ll strip him of his vibrance, taint his joy and drag him through the mud with you. 

“You’re not what?” Changbin asks, concern written on his face and clear in his voice. “I’m.. not good for you, I– I’m too.. different,” you answer, nervousness palpable in your tone. “What do you mean?” His expression changes to one of incredulousness, as if you suggesting he could do better than you is ridiculous, as if he would never even consider it a possibility. 

“It’s just– you’re so cheerful, and funny, and bright, and I’m.. the opposite. I’m sad all the time, it feels like it never ends. I was, I still am, trying to be better, like– seeing doctors and taking my meds, but.. I don’t want to drag you down, like I did with–” You immediately freeze, stopping yourself mid-sentence.

Shit. You haven’t told Changbin about why things ended with your ex before; obviously as your best friend, he knew you had a boyfriend and that things didn’t work out with him, but you never talked about it openly. You didn’t want to dwell on any of your hurt feelings when you were with Changbin, so you always kept the way things ended to yourself. 

His expression changes, a sadness that is simultaneously soft and caring. He doesn’t know whether it's something your ex explicitly said to you, or is an opinion you hold about yourself due to your relationship failing, but he can't accept it.

You would never drag him down. He would never view your feelings as a burden, he would never expect you to bottle everything inside for his convenience, he would never look at you and think you should be anything other than what you are. 

“Do you remember when we became friends?” Changbin asks and you nod hesitantly before he continues, “That was the hardest time of my life. I had so many thoughts and feelings I didn’t know how to deal with or express and you were there for me. You’ve always been there for me. Even if you didn’t consciously do anything, having you there was enough to make it better.”

“The only reason I’m so happy now, the reason I can be so cheerful is because of you. You've helped me more than you even know. Maybe I can't change what you think about yourself, but whatever bad you think there is, it's not what I see. I see someone incredibly accomplished, intelligent, considerate, beautiful. Worthy of love and kindness. That’s who you are. And I'm on your side, always.”

Any hope you had of holding back your tears crumbled the minute such sweet words left him, the crashing wave of previously pushed down, dormant emotions engulfing you entirely. Reaching out now, you hug him tightly, sniffling into his chest while he wraps an arm around you and brings a hand to your head, holding you closely to him. 

You almost never cry in front of others, the vulnerability always making you feel embarrassed and ashamed. In fact, in all the years he's known you, Changbin can count on one hand the amount of times you've cried in front of him.

He always noticed the way you held it back when you were upset, how you would put on a brave face or a smile and continue on as if nothing happened. And he had admired that quality in you, but now he understands how lonely that must have been. 

All the pain you silently harbored, all the tears you didn't allow to fall, all the thoughts you kept inside your head.. He hopes you know now that you never have to do those things again, that you don't have to be scared to show your authentic feelings to him. Because no matter how "ugly", he's not going anywhere. Because he loves you. 

You let yourself stay like that for some time, indulging in Changbin’s comforting touch as months, maybe even years worth of repressed emotions tumble out of you. All you can do now is let the waves of emotion crash into you, until the tide of feelings recede back into the depths they were once stored in. 

"Can you help me close the shop?" you ask when you finally pull away, wiping your face clean before you look up at him. "Of course, love," he gives you a sweet smile, giving your hand a comforting squeeze before he continues. "You can just head up now and rest if you want, I know what to do." He's helped you close the shop plenty of times in the past, so he's confident he can do it on his own.

You let out a soft 'thank you', deciding to take Changbin up on his offer and go straight to your apartment above the shop. Honestly, it's probably not the best idea from a profit standpoint to close this early in the afternoon, but that will have to be a problem for future you, because right now all you want to do is flop on your bed and bury yourself in your blankets. 

And that's exactly where he finds you when he finishes closing up– wrapped in makeshift blanket burrito and work attire strewn on the floor, close to your hamper but not quite having made it inside. You poke your head out from under the blanket when you hear his voice call your name from the doorway to your bedroom. 

“Can I join you?" he asks and you quickly nod, lifting a corner of your blanket up so he can crawl in next to you. He wraps his arms around you once he's under the blanket with you, urging you to rest your head against him. A comforted sigh leaves you when he starts gently rubbing your back, eyes closing as built up tension finally begins to leave your body. 

Having emotions is exhausting, but being with Changbin makes it better. You hope this is what your life will look like from now on– wrapped in Changbin’s embrace, words of affirmation and care lingering in your ears, his vibrance bleeding onto you and turning you into someone that can be happy. 

"Can I kiss you?" Changbin asks, voice almost a whisper and timid in its request. You give your approval easily, because obviously you want to kiss him. How could you not want to kiss the person you’ve been secretly in love with for ages? 

His lips are soft, gentle against yours, hands careful in the way they roam your body. He longed to touch you, to know what it was like to feel your soft skin under his fingertips while he kissed you, to love you the way you deserved to be loved.

He’s always viewed you with the utmost reverence, would spend his nights imagining what he would do if he got even the smallest chance to show you, promised himself he would never leave you doubting if the opportunity was granted to be with you. 

Your hands rest on his chest, his kisses making you impossibly dizzy despite how soft and slow they are. Because it’s Changbin, you think; because there’s no one else in the world that has held your heart in their hands the way he has. You realize now that there was never going to be any getting over him. No matter who else you entertained, who else you gave your love and care to, you’d always find your way back to him. 

“Binnie, can you touch me? Please?” You ask during a brief moment of separation, voice soft and timid but still loud and clear in his ears. Do you even know the effect that question has on him? The way it sends a wave of arousal throughout his entire body? “God, yes, of course, anything you want,” he says before he’s kissing you again, albeit hungrier this time. 

You feel his hardening cock twitch against your thigh, the close proximity of your bodies making it impossible to ignore– not that you even want to ignore it. If it were with anyone else, he might be embarrassed over being worked up over so little, but he’s not because it’s you; the only person he’s had eyes for since you entered his life in sophomore year of high school. 

Carefully, he reaches a hand inside the sleep shirt you changed into, surprised to find that you’re not wearing a bra, though he supposes he shouldn’t be– of course you wouldn’t keep one on if you intended on being in bed the rest of the day. 

He licks your lips as he squeezes one of your breasts in his palm, urging you to open your mouth from him. You oblige easily, letting his tongue lick and swirl around your own, soft moans and gasps leaving you with every gentle squeeze and thumb brush over your nipple.

“Can I take it off you?” he asks between breaths, and you hum in approval, separating yourself from him just enough to allow him to pull your shirt up and over your head. 

“Bin, take yours off too,” you practically whine when he goes to kiss you again as soon as your shirt lands on the floor. “So sorry, angel,” he says with a low chuckle before he obliges, having no trouble pulling the loose shirt off himself with one hand. 

You’ve seen him shirtless before, when swimming together or when he’s preparing to change into pajamas during a sleepover, but it never stops being a breathtaking sight. Large, defined muscles with an equally as defined chest, yet below lies a soft, cute tummy; it’s devastating how attractive it is– how attractive he is, specifically. 

You lie flat on your back now, Changbin hovering above you and staring down at your exposed torso. “So pretty,” he says, smiling when it causes you to blush and look away. You have plenty of experience in things like this and don’t consider yourself all that shy but Changbin is.. Well, Changbin. A single look from him can turn you into a puddle, a simple compliment enough to have your heart beating out of your chest. 

He takes one of your hands and brings it to his face, planting soft kisses to your fingertips, before having your hand rest against his cheek. He keeps his hand on top of yours for a moment, a silent request for you to hold it there when he takes his own hand away and kisses you again. 

And so you do; you hold his face in your hand as his lips touch yours once more. You open your mouth, without any prompting this time, easily allowing him to slide his tongue against yours. He finds your other hand, taking it in one of his own and squeezing for a moment before he places it on his chest. He wants you to keep touching him, wants to feel your hands all over him, and this is his way of showing you, telling you. 

He nuzzles his face into your hand when he separates from your lips before moving down to plant open mouthed kisses to your neck. Your hand travels to the back of his head now, fingers tangling in his curly hair and tugging slightly when he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. A soft groan escapes him when you tug on his hair; it’s a feeling that delights him more than he ever anticipated it would. 

You continue to touch him with your other hand, letting it run up and down his torso, over his chest, down his stomach, and then back up again, repeating the movements to your heart's content. “Keep touching me,” he says as he travels lower, lips ghosting the top of your chest, “don’t stop.” 

His words make your stomach flip, a tingle spreading down your spine due to the request. It’s one you plan to oblige, even if his new position lower down your body makes the task slightly harder. His stomach no longer in your reach, you instead focus on rubbing over his shoulder and down the length of his bicep, a soft gasp of pleasure escaping you when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

He stays there for some time, alternating the attention between your breasts whenever he deems necessary and reveling in the feeling of your hands touching his body. So simple yet so intoxicating, he never wants you to be apart from him ever again, never wants to go without the feeling of your fingers in his hair or your palms on his bare skin. But eventually it becomes clear that you need more, he needs more, and he decides to continue making a path down your body. 

"So beautiful," he whispers against your skin as he travels down your stomach and toward your legs, planting more soft kisses on your body along the way. It tickles, but at the same time it feels incredibly good; getting attention from Changbin like this is akin to a dream, something you once believed impossible for you to experience. And he is as attentive and caring now as he has ever been, leaving no part of your body untouched. 

His fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts and underwear, pulling them off together in one motion. The way he stares down at your now fully exposed body makes butterflies erupt in your gut, the desire in his eyes palpable. Your legs unconsciously begin to close together, Changbin’s gaze on you making you the most shy you’ve ever felt. 

“Please don’t hide from me, I want to see you,” he says, and wow, does that make the butterflies a million times worse. With a breath to try and steady your racing heart, you spread your legs, watching with bated breath as Changbin lowers himself between them. The sight in front of you, of the person you love most drooling in anticipation between your legs, is enough to make your head spin. 

God, he wants to taste you so bad– and he will, but not just yet. He kisses your thighs first, in a gesture that is incredibly sweet but also drives you crazy with need. You aren't sure if it is intent to tease you, to make you become impatient with want, but that's certainly the effect it's having on you. "Bin, please, need you so bad, please–" 

Fuck, that makes him weak. As if he isn't a slave to you already, willing to do any and every thing to please you, endlessly subservient to your every desire. Your breath catches in your throat when his tongue runs between your folds, the way his eyes lock on yours as he does sending jolts of electricity throughout your body.

He hums as he laps at you, lifting your legs just enough to hook his arms underneath them, hands squeezing at your thighs. “Tastes so good,” he moans into you, tongue alternating between your hole and swollen clit, his hips grinding down into your mattress to give some much needed relief to his aching cock.

No one has ever eaten you out the way he is now– desperate, wet, and messy, a mixture of his saliva and your juices running down his chin. And you want to watch but you can’t– it’s impossible to keep your eyes open when you feel this good. Your sweet, drawn out moans encourage him to keep up the pace he set for himself, wanting nothing more than for you to come undone from his tongue alone before he adds his fingers. 

And that's exactly what you do when he focuses all his intention on your clit, the low hum of approval he releases when you tug on his hair again being enough to send you over the edge. Your moans turn into loud whines as he keeps going even past the conclusion of your orgasm, showing no signs of slowing down even the slightest bit. 

Your eyes roll back when he pushes two of his fingers easily inside you, overstimulation prickling your skin and jolting your body, yet you don't want him to stop. You'll take all he has to give, for as long as he wants to give it. And it doesn’t take long for him to find the spot inside that sends you reeling, the overwhelming pleasure making your mouth hang open in a silent moan. 

Your fingers, still tangled in his hair, tug much harsher than before, but he loves it. Between the sensitivity, the way he hums and moans against you, and the expert use of his tongue and fingers together, you won't last long. One, two more presses into your sweet spot and your second orgasm rips through you much faster than the first one, with an intensity you’ve never felt before. 

Your cum soaks his face and fingers, liquid pooling underneath you and drenching your bedsheets. Arched back falling back onto the mattress, your lungs desperately heaving, begging for air as you come down from the explosive high. “B-Binnie, wait, too much–” you whine as he licks you clean, that simple act alone proving much too overwhelming for your sensitive body. 

He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand when he pulls away, looking down at you with dark, lust blown eyes. Your eyes travel from his face down to his painfully hard, leaking cock. “Do you want to fuck me?” you ask, the words leaving you before you can even hope to try and formulate that question less vulgarly. 

You are going to kill him, he thinks. Because how can those words leaving your lips not make his entire body react, how can it not drive him insane with want? “Fuck, yes, I want to fuck you, so bad,” his voice almost a whine as it leaves him, desperate and craving the feeling of you wrapped snuggly around him. 

“Condoms in there,” you tell him, pointing to the 2nd drawer of your nightstand. He leans over you to reach into the drawer, finding them hidden beneath your glasses case, medicine bottles, and various hand lotions. You chew at your bottom lip as you watch him tear open the packaging, unconsciously holding your breath in anticipation as he rolls it on. 

He leans down to kiss you once he’s finished, letting you taste yourself on him as he rubs his length between your folds, letting your arousal and remnants of cum serve as its lubrication. Your body shudders when he presses the tip into your hole for the first time, making sure it’ll slide the rest of the way easily before he begins to fully sheath it inside you. 

He’s so thick and feels so fucking good, it’s unbelievable; and you can tell he’s being effected by you equally as much, by the way his brows furrow and body trembles on top of you. He’s silently grateful for the condom serving as a barrier between his cock and your walls, because he’d surely cum simply from being inside you if he wasn’t wearing one. 

"W-Wait-" your voice calls out when you can tell he’s ready to move, soft and breathy but still loud enough for him to hear. “What’s wrong, baby? Did you change your mind? We can stop right now if that’s what you want, there’s always next time, we can–” Changbin begins to ramble, clearly concerned that he’s somehow breached a boundary or did something wrong. It's endearing honestly, and in a different scenario you might let him ramble a bit longer, but now isn't the time for that.

“Changbin. It’s not that, it’s just..” you trail off, unsure of how you should word what you’re thinking to him. Honestly, you love that he cares so much, is willing to stop even when he clearly wants it so badly, and you don’t want him to think it’s somehow his fault that you need to stop and collect yourself for a moment. 

It's not that you don't want to have sex with Changbin, or that he did something wrong. In fact, he did everything right, as perfect as he always is, exactly as attentive as you always imagined him to be. It's just.. this is the first time since your ex broke up with you that you’re having an intimate moment with someone and you feel.. vulnerable? Overwhelmed too, by the fact that someone you’re so in love with has the entirety of his cock buried inside you.

“I.. I still want to but.. can we maybe just cuddle for a minute?” you ask with a slight pout and Changbin’s heart positively bursts. It’s such a soft, cute request; one that endears him to you even more than he thought was possible. “Of course, angel,” he smiles, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you into a hug, “anything you need.” 

He plants kisses on your cheeks, on your lips, under your ear and along your neck, keeping you pressed close to him as he does. “That tickles, Bin,” you giggle between his extremely light kisses, and you can feel him smile against your skin, endlessly delighted by the sound of your soft laughs in his ear. You wrap your own arms around him, hugging him tightly, indulging in the closeness between you.

You stay like that for some time– wrapped in eachothers arms, sharing kisses and soft words, tiny giggles escaping you whenever his lips brush over a ticklish spot. You can occasionally feel his cock twitching inside you, still impossibly hard and eager for further stimulation from your body.

You’ve had enough comfort now, it makes you think– you want Changbin to feel good now, to lose himself in you the way he made you lose yourself. “Binnie, you can move now,” you tell him, and again he twitches as you speak, “want you to fuck me.”

Fuck, he has to resist going completely feral right now, cause the way you speak to him drives him absolutely crazy. One more kiss, then he unwraps his arms from you, lifting himself up and resting his palms on either side of your head. "I'll take care of you, show you how you deserve to be treated," he tells you, still eager to focus entirely on your pleasure even now. 

But that’s not what you want now; he’s already done that. Taken such good care of you, treated you with so much love and care, shown you the depths of his affection. It's his turn to get whatever he wants. “No, fuck me,” you say, voice stern and confident in your words, “ruin me, I promise can take it.”

‘Oh my fucking god,’ he thinks. You’re the one ruining him, driving him so fucking crazy he almost can’t think straight anymore. But fuck, if that’s what you want, he’ll give it to you. Without holding back, until the both of you are delirious and breathless, minds foggy and eyes glossed over, he’ll fuck you.  

"I love you," he says, one last display of affection before he loses himself; and lose himself he does, pounding into you so fast and hard straight away that it makes the air evaporate from your lungs. He grabs your legs, hoisting them over his shoulders and allowing him to sink deeper inside. Your hands claw the bedsheets underneath you, bunching them in your hands so hard that your knuckles turn white. 

Changbin’s head falls back, curses leaving him freely, the harsh grip of his fingers bruising your thighs. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, the merciless drilling into the gummy spot inside you making your toes curl and body writhe. “So good, you feel so fucking good,” he whines, already so close to his high. And he can’t help that he's so close already, not with the way you squeeze so tightly around him and how pretty your moans and whimpers sound in his ears. 

You want to tell him that you’re close too, that you’re gonna cum just from his cock, but you can’t; you’re too breathless, the only noises you’re capable of making are high pitched sounds of pleasure. But it’s okay that you can’t tell him, because he can tell with the way your eyes roll back, tears freely falling once you squeeze them shut, body trembling as your third orgasm hovers over you. 

So he gives you a little push, bringing two of his fingers to your clit and rubbing in quick, sporadic circles. You cum hard, body convulsing underneath him and a string of expletives pouring out of you. “F-Fuck,” Changbin gasps out, the sight of you, so pretty and fucked out, while squeezing him so tight and gushing all over him– he can’t hold it back anymore. 

“C-Cumming, f-fuck, ‘m cumming-” he tells you with a moan that transforms into a whimper, thrusts sloppy as he comes undone, pouring all he has to give into the condom. He pulls out as soon as his high recedes, slipping the condom off and tying it closed, tossing it aside to be properly disposed of later.

His body is heavy as he flops down next to you, the both of you entirely spent. You open your closed eyes when you feel him wipe the stray hairs that clung to you from sweat out of your face, only to be met with one of the sweetest smiles you’ve ever seen. “You look happy,” you say with a small giggle, one that he easily returns. “Of course I’m happy. I just got to fuck the prettiest girl in the world, and she loves me.” 

“Mm, I’m happy too,” you say as you snuggle in closer to him, “because I can say that Seo Changbin is my boyfriend.” You give him a quick peck before you lay your head down, eyes once again closing as his arms wrap around you. You’re so exhausted, but it’s a pleasant kind now; the kind that follows a perfect day, where every moment of happiness will be playing in your mind even as you drift asleep. 

“I meant what I said, you know. That I’m gonna take care of you, treat you how you deserve to be treated,” Changbin whispers to you, following it up with a soft kiss to your temple, “love you so much.” You hum an acknowledgement, whispering an ‘I love you too’, much too tired to fully put into words how much that means to you.

And you know it’s true, because it’s what he has always done, even before he confessed his feelings to you. He’s always been there for you, doing his best to cheer you up even when it wasn’t easy, always listening to you when you did have rare moments of vulnerability. You may have been blind to it before, too stuck in your head and your overwhelming feelings to see how much he truly loved you, but you know now, and that’s all that matters. 

Sweetly, tenderly, he lifted you up out of the eternal dark, assured you with the sweetest of words and kindest of gestures. You had always thought you deserved everything you got from your ex, from life in general, always placing the blame for why things were so hard on your own shoulders.

Until Changbin’s words, you never considered that you didn’t deserve it– that you should be allowed to experience joy and happiness freely and without worry of it being undeserved, or of it coming to an end. 

Your mindset won’t change in a day, and you’ll always have your depression and pessimistic thoughts to struggle with, but that’s okay now. Because you know you have someone who loves you unconditionally, who will help you to see the bright side of every situation, who will support you and care for you on the days you can’t care for yourself. 

His love as beautiful as the flowers you care for everyday, his care the nutrients you need to bloom into the radiant person that lies under the dirt. You think back to the purple hydrangeas, and how their meaning reflected something you always wanted.

You didn’t realize it then, but you had it all along; someone who loves you, someone who cares, someone who understands. And they’ll stay your favorite flower, you think– because you’ll always remember the way Changbin held them out to you, love and concern embedded in his eyes, the beginning of the biggest, most vibrant bloom of your life.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

From Criminial Mastermind to Fairy Tale Hero: The End of Artemis Fowl

Here we are, everyone: The final Artemis Fowl book. It has been a journey revisiting the first series I was old enough to follow and fandom, and it's wild to me that we're finally at the end. Especially since I picked up the first Artemis Fowl book in late elementary school (I'm genuinely not sure when though, because the first book came out in April of 2001, when I was in fifth grade and it's very possible I didn't pick the book up until sixth grade, which would have put me at 11, same age as Artemis in that first book) and the final book came out in 2012, when I was in my junior year of undergrad. So at that point, Artemis, Holly, and Butler had been part of my life for a long time. And now here we are, to say goodbye to them again after this leisurely re-listen/read. Let's talk Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian.

Artemis grew and changed so much across eight books, which makes sense because holy cow do kids change a LOT between 11 and 15. We get so busy living life in those years that we don't really think about how much we truly learn and grown between prepubescence and full-on teenagerhood, but that is a time of massive change, and I think that more than anything else really justifies how Artemis goes from a chillingly vampiric child to a teenager with enough compassion and empathy to understand that sometimes the right choice is a heroic self-sacrifice for the people that your people (both humans and the people, in this case) love. Artemis also did a really interesting version of that thing so many teenagers do where they hit a point where they can't just phone in their abilities anymore and have to actually put effort in, but for Artemis it was emotional rather than intelligence. And yet even when making said heroic sacrifice, we have the absolutely beautiful callback to the end of book one, where Artemis drugs his mother, Butler, and Juliet to keep them from being harmed by the bio-bomb. To stop Holly from preventing him from stopping Opal, Artemis sedates her. The more things change, the more they stay the same...

Except where best villain ever Opal Koboi is concerned. By this book, Opal is so disconnected from reality that she is willing to risk literally going nuclear to escape captivity, and then just...casually sparks off the apocalypse because if there is one thing our girl wants, it's to be Empress of the World, and if that means using spirit zombies and an ancient fairy doomsday device, then I guess it's a good thing she's already versed in black magic. Or something. Opal is fully and completely off the rails at this point, and if you catch yourself referring to yourself as "Mommy" in reference to the spirits of several scores of ancient elven berserkers who would--barring a geas--murder you for it, you might want to stop and take a long, hard look at your life choices. And maybe don't forget that you've cloned yourself, because that's the kind of little detail that can completely ruin your chances of being Empress of the World.

Holly quite possibly deserves every medal that exists for managing to drag Artemis's extremely out-of-shape butt through increasingly dangerous and high-stakes missions while navigating fairy politics and *checks notes* breaking up with her commanding officer after a disastrous date where they both got kicked out of a crunchball match. (And once again...HOW DARE Colfer leave this in exposition and not show us this amazing disaster of a date!?!?) Holly has also just been through the emotional wringer with Artemis and every time he decided to double-cross or lie by omission to bring off a plan and every time he does something infuriatingly human that drives up her blood pressure and yet makes the mission succeed. And then she has to sit there and watch him die to save humans and fairies. Seriously, the fact that Holly Short is a functional being rather than a hot mess is nothing short of a miracle.

And then we come to Butler. Long-suffering, super fucking over it, broken-hearted Domovoi Butler. Artemis got DAMN lucky that the whole "put my spirit in a clone of me" plan panned out, because if it hadn't, Holly was entirely correct: Butler would never have recovered. Butler and Opal might be my two favorite characters in the entire series at this point. That's not where I started--for a very long time, Holly was my favorite character, and Commander Root still gets an honorable mention--but as a grown-ass adult (I'm not doing that math for you, if you want to know that I'm old, you do the math), I cannot escape how dedicated, competent, kind, and just AWESOME Butler is. I feel like the vibe here is very similar to the thing that happens when you watch Sound of Music as a kid and either Maria or one of the kids is your favorite character, but when you come back to it as an adult, Captain Von Trapp is EVERYTHING (RIP Christopher Plummer, we loved you). Butler has a similar vibe but in a different genre.

So, I was an adult and had enough experience of watching fandoms to see the mixed reactions to this book being released. People were sad the series was ending, people were disappointed because the series had seemingly drifted, and people loved it. My reaction was pretty mixed, because I had a lot going on, I knew there were good things here but I was also kind of missing the heisty, criminal mastermind vibes, but also OPAL KOBOI. So I was pretty unsure how to feel about this book when it came out, and then I didn't reread it for literal years because I went to grad school.

Returning to this book now, I have suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch respect for how Colfer tied up the series and how he pulled off a new Irish mythological cycle, but updated for the twenty-first century. I have enough life on me to appreciate the changes Artemis goes through, and enough literature degrees to have a new and deeply fulfilling perspective on the series structure. Last Guardian is not my favorite book of the series--it's not even in the top three--but I think that what it does is genuinely impressive and I love how you can finish this book and go instantly back into the OG Artemis Fowl. The story does not, strictly speaking, have to end. And that is a vibe I can 100% get behind.

I deeply love the Artemis Fowl books, and I cannot recommend the series enough. They have so many strengths, are incredibly well-written, and they live rent-free in my head even now as an adult.