#I guess that's part of being an adult but still...

[questions-about-blorbos]

Cw - grooming, pedophilia, sexual assault. You can delete this if you’re not comfortable answering

I was 13 when I was groomed by an adult who’s very well known in my fandom (they run a big fan account with thousands of followers, so they’re very popular) and 17 when I was sexually assaulted by the same person. And the ironic part is this person is very open about being anti. They often harass proshippers because “proshippers are bad people in real life” while at the same time they were the one grooming and sexually assaulting me in real life. So I guess they have no trouble protecting fictional children while abusing a real minor lol

From what happened to me, my whole view of antis is that “they HAVE to hide something and that’s why they label themselves as antis so no one suspects they are actual predators irl”.

I still have to take my antidepressant and see my therapist. And every time I see someone says they’re “an anti” I stop interacting with them because my brain automatically sees being antis as a huge red flag because chances are that they are hiding their predatory side behind the Anti Mask.

It’s like everything antis accused proshippers of IS a confession of their own predatory behavior.

I’ve always felt comforted chilling with proshippers because most of them are chill and most - if not all - of them CAN separate fiction from reality.

Another reason why I think antis are the dangerous ones is that most of them can’t separate fiction from reality. It’s like they think they will get exposed of being irl predators if they say they like dark fics BECAUSE THEY (ANTIS) ACTUALLY ARE IRL PREDATORS.

My abuser is STILL harassing proshippers and interacting with other antis and no one in my fandom knows what their beloved anti did to me because they’re so popular and I’m not ready to come forward with my story. But it’s so triggering to see them talk about protecting fictional children knowing damn well they raped me when I was a minor.

Your blog has always been a safe place for me and seeing your posts in support of being proshippers, being anti harassment and keeping fandom safe is a huge green flag.

As a victim of sexual abuse, I will always trust a proshipper over an anti any day.

Thank you for keeping your blog a safe space for us

“talking about protecting fictional children while raping a real child”. I have no words. I’m so sorry this happened to you, anon. knowing my blog can provide you comfort gives me small comfort, but I’m so sorry you had to go through this.

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: it's monday! and fake joe's here for you! he's... not exactly the best, for which i apologise, but, he's all for you, so please, enjoy him fictionally and respect him privately (too much to ask? i hope not?) ok great talk everyone, love you <33 xo

Wordcount: 6.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Four days of silence.

Four days of not looking each other in the eye. Of no physical touch. Of not saying a single fucking word.

You moved around each other in a shared space until you had the thought that you were probably better off avoiding each other completely for a little while.

Joe was convinced he had every right to wait for an apology before he’d speak to you again. You, however, obviously heavily disagreed.

You had just been honest.

Joe had asked for you to be honest and so, you had been, but apparently, you’d done it wrong.

It started with an evening of not speaking after an outburst. A silent night routine where you completely avoided one another. Acted like the other person wasn’t even there. You’d thought then that you’d speak in the morning. That you’d talk things out after getting some sleep, because maybe that was the problem.

You slept with your backs facing each other and dreamed of better moods in the morning.

But then the next morning, Joe had gotten up and only made one coffee.

One singular cup of coffee.

He drank it at the kitchen table, looked at you all bitterly like a disappointed parent would look at their child who was ruining their potential, and then left the empty cup there for you to grow even more annoyed at. More than you already were.

That one evening of silence had slowly turned into four days.

You bit your tongue, though. Kept quiet, because Joe did too. Stored the annoyance away. Swept it under the rug, and even though this metaphoric rug was starting to look really lumpy, you pretended you could walk over it fine still.

You then also ignored that this is precisely what the fight had been about. About you shutting up about all the little things that annoyed you. All the small things that didn’t feel worth the effort to say anything about in the moment, because you didn’t want to be a nag.

Things built with you.

Being bothersome was your worst nightmare, so you wouldn’t say anything for ages until then suddenly, on a random afternoon, a teeny tiny drop made the bucket overflow and you’d fall apart at something so stupidly insignificant which would take everyone by surprise.

Would take Joe by surprise.

And it made sense that Joe’s first reaction to your fire would be to light his own. You’d snap and shout, so Joe’d snap and shout right back.

“Babe, you never fucking communicate! It’s always– I’m always guessing with you! Just tell me when something upsets you!”

“I am!”

“Yea now you are! But you’re telling me about shit I said three months ago! What do you want me to change about something I did three months ago?!”

“I don’t want you to change anything– my God! You asked me what’s wrong, so I’m telling you what’s wrong!”

It was always the same fight. And usually, you’d end up saying something so stupid to your own ears it would break the tension and make you laugh. It’d be easy to apologise in those moments, because you knew this was on you, and the warmth coming off of Joe as he’d turn soft at your laughter would always sort of fix things.

“Stop being so silly,” he’d say as he’d hug you. As he’d kiss you on the cheek until your embarrassed grimace, aimed fully at yourself, disappeared.

“Got some moaning left in there?” he’d ask, tapping the side of your head with a finger, making you giggle despite yourself. “Want to go shout into the air from the balcony? Since you’re here now, this is the time to get all of it out.”

That was how it usually went.

And he was right; you could definitely communicate better. Express feelings in the moment rather than hold on to all the negative shit for ages.

Easier said than done, but at least you were aware that you had to stop saving things for another day.  

This time the fight had been different though. There was no eventual humour slipping through any cracks. No secret smiles hidden from each other until you stopped being able to conceal them. No apologies. Zero kind words. Just… anger. And silence.

Joe was waiting for you to break first. For your wrath to turn into something a little softer that he could mould into something more to his liking.

And you were waiting because Joe was waiting. Simple as that.

It didn’t feel fair that every time you’d share negative feelings, Joe would end up calling you silly.

It didn’t feel fair that Joe never apologised for anything.

It didn’t feel fair that, just because you were quiet for a moment as you collected your thoughts, Joe spat, “Silent treatment? All right.” at you.

Four days.

Four days of Joe making a morning coffee just for himself, actively choosing to ignore, and therefore, hurt you.

Four days of his lone empty coffee cup left on the table, which you then didn’t clean, because why the fuck would you, but the sight of it was eating you alive.

You spent four days witnessing petty, childish behaviour from the man who you started believing you needed some space from. A little breathing room. Just until he’d miss you enough to reach out and say sorry, you know?

You wondered if he was thinking the same.

If the silence was also letting his mind wander into those same dark corners yours was exploring.

But then, Joe broke it.

A glass of wine on that fourth night broke it.

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but… it felt like one. You decided it was an apology.

You were sitting on the sofa, tapping away on your phone, talking to Emily about your stupid boyfriend, and she was a good friend, made fun of him effortlessly which really did a good job of making you feel better.

Then, Joe placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of you.

It didn’t fully register at first.

You saw the glass, but assumed it was Joe’s wine that he poured for just himself, and if you were going to want some, you’d have to go and fetch you own.

Mid-typing out a message to Emily about it, you felt Joe sit down next to you, and when you chanced a quick glance, you saw that he was holding a glass of wine himself as he got comfortable and turned on the TV.

Slowly, your phone lowered into your lap, and you stared at that glass of red wine on the table for a moment.

Without warning, your eyes welled up.

He poured that for you.

In the effort to not let Joe notice how this gesture hit you right in the gut, you held your breath until you were shaking, and then a heaving sob burst out of you.

Shit.

You shattered.

Split right down the middle, and burst into pieces with such vigour, you surprised yourself, but surprised Joe more.

He had expected you to pick up the glass and empty it in the sink, or whatever.

Four days was much longer than he thought you’d let this go on for.

His girlfriend was stubborn – he knew that. But four days? Four days was a really fucking long time. And, apparently, four days was long enough for a simple glass of red supermarket wine to make you cry.

The astonishment rendered Joe useless for a moment.

He just looked at you for a moment as you sat with your phone in your lap, head dropped down, and your face covered by both your hands.

This was really fucking embarrassing.

Your legs felt the want to escape the situation before your mind got the chance to catch up. You were up on your feet and wanted to bolt it to the bedroom when you heard Joe put his glass of wine down.

You hadn’t even taken two steps before you got taken hold of by an arm. Pulled into a chest. Held firmly into place.

Going from four days of moving around each other like you didn’t exist to one another, to the very sudden tightest hug you’d received in ages was a lot.

And then Joe placed a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed you gently, making you fucking bawl.

No one apologised.

No one said a word, actually.

But you took whatever that glass of wine was as enough of an olive branch to let yourself be hugged.

Be shushed quietly.

Be gently kissed and softly touched.  

It shouldn’t have counted as an apology, but you’d taken it as one, and Joe had conveniently let you.

Saturday night.

You’re out.

Alone.

You know Emily would have come if you had asked her to, but you hadn’t, because she would’ve likely asked a bunch of questions you didn’t want to answer.

“Where are we going?” “That’s not where we usually go...” “Why are we going there?”

Couldn’t tell her. She’d try her best to talk sense into you. Would try to convince you that this behaviour wasn’t serving anyone in the long term.

And she’d be right.

But you currently don’t really care about the long term.

Short term is where it’s at.

Where all the fun and the excitement lives.

So you’re out. Having drinks at a bar by yourself, and you do your very best fending off any trickle of doubt at your life choices until you see him walk in.

Jackpot.

You fucking knew it.

You pretend you haven’t seen him at all, of course. Continue your chat with the girl behind the bar, until suddenly–

“You know you’ve got the worst timing?”

Joe sneaks up on you.

His voice is low in your ear, and you do your very best to sound as surprised as you possibly can when you gasp a small breath, all innocent. You turn your head to see him over your shoulder, both his hands on your sides as he looks down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You say it like you truly didn’t expect to run into him.

Oscar worthy.

Well. It would have been, had you not both been very aware that you’re exactly where you are for this exact reason. Wearing what you are wearing, drinking what you are drinking. It’s more than a lucky guess that he’d be here tonight.

Joe’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

“I’m here with a whole group.” Joe’s making excuses he already knows aren’t going to stop either one of you.  

“Do I know them?”

“No.” Joe answers as he scans your face from the side. God, you look all… glossy.

“Good.” Would’ve been a bit awkward otherwise.

“You better hang around for a bit.” Joe gives you a face, sort of stern, and it’s so comfortable to frown at him. To act all offended. Like it’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Excuse you, I’m–” you start all aghast, and want to add, I’m seeing someone, which is a lie, but you get cut off by a strong squeeze into your waist from both his hands.

“I’m not joking. Give me… maybe, like, an hour and I’ll come get you.”

You scrunch your nose at him and he gives a small nod, his grin spreading wide, before he turns around and finds the people he came in with.

You’re alone. Single, and having drinks in a bar by yourself, which has every opportunity to feel a little sad, but instead you feel giddy. You predicted you’d run into him, and then you did.

Perfect.

You’re a genius.

After last time, you kind of want Joe to think that you are seeing someone. Just to make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand. Not that it matters. You’ve both made the same wrong choice in similar situations before. But, still. You just don’t want him to win.

Joe joins his friends, and he throws a quick glance back to see you smile into your drink as you take a sip.

Yea. Glossy is the right word, he thinks. He could stare at you all evening.

Fuck.

A whack to his shoulder by one of his friends pulls him into a conversation and momentarily, he shifts into the evening he had planned to have.

He forgets about you for a minute, but never entirely.

It’s like there’s a constant little buzz in the back of his head, and he keeps wanting to look over. See what you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Who’s talking to you.

Joe’s in trouble.

You do things to him that he can’t entirely comprehend, and that no one before or after you has ever really managed. He doesn’t know what to make of that most of the time, except that the feelings he’s got for you are sort of… big. And scary.

You’re still devastatingly gorgeous to him, he can objectively look at you and think, yea she’s fucking hot, but you also manage to make him laugh. Manage to him feel heard and cared for. Manage to make him forget about all current worries life has on offer for him.

And Joe is generally, just, doomed.

Whatever he had with you had worked for a while and then suddenly it hadn’t anymore. You’d suddenly wanted out, but now… it feels a little like you both want to start over. Like you both want to forget about that chapter of bullshit. Pretend it never happened.

And what’s the problem with that?

Is whatever you are doing now a problem? If it works?

If it doesn’t hurt people, Joe thinks there’s no issue.

But he knows it actually does hurt people. It’s another truth he ignores. Tries to, at least.

There’s no denying the gravitation pulling the two of you closer and closer together until eventually you end up a tangled mess. Like a pair of forgotten earphones left in a coat pocket, too annoying to untie, so instead someone will pull at both ends until the earpieces reach both ears, leaving the wire tangled up even tighter as it sits under their chin.

Even though Joe appreciates the poetic beauty he can find in all of that, he knows he’s got to fucking stop hurting people all the time.

He can’t help his feelings.

But he can help how he treats others.

If he is going to choose to let the general ache of a bad week be soothed by the balm of your presence, he can at least have the decency to not let others presume they’re dating him. Because generally, that’s always been his problem. Joe’s vague and avoidant and all about surface level fun – he never defines anything if he can help it, and he lets others think what they please.

It’s easier that way.

For him, at least.

It’s both a shame and a godsend that this is a part of him that you know through and through. That you see. He doesn’t have to try to hide it, because he knows that it’s of no use with you.

And apparently, it’s fine, because here you fucking are, aren’t you?

He remembers when he thought you were just the same, and remembers how he felt so lucky at first.

A perfect match.

He’d learnt over time, you’re actually very much not the same. But! You had at least some of the same tendencies, and you showing up in this particular bar tonight was enough proof of it.

Joe’s in his group of friends, and they’re all chatting and laughing, and this was meant to be a fun night out, but he might as well just leave right now. His mind is with the girl at the other end of the bar, sat on her own, smiling and chatting to whoever had the courage to strike up a conversation.

Yea.

He’s got more problems.

Forget not wanting to define anything with anyone.

Joe also has to stop banking his entire future on the idea that you want him too.

There’s… there’s a lot of things to ignore.

It should foreshadow that the path he’s going down isn’t good. Isn’t the right one. But... it’s so fun and exciting, he kind of has to know where it leads.

He sighs loudly, a frustrated grumble originating from sheer defeat, and he gives the glass he’s holding a glance. He’ll finish this, and then he’ll fetch you and leave.

About fifteen minutes later, he’s got you under his arm and is leading you outside. Asks, “Yours or mine?” because there’s no need to act coy with you.

You answer, “Yours.” a little too quickly for Joe not to raise an eyebrow at.

You’re walking together, and you’re still fixing your scarf, but your steps are too determined. Too rushed for your quick answer not to hide at least some secrets.

“What, you got anything to hide from me?”

“No–”

“Let’s go over to yours. It’s closer.” he challenges without the intent to actually do so, footsteps still carrying him in the direction of his own flat.

“No, I–”

“Or has Jasper left all of his things strewn about?” Joe couldn’t finish the question before having to twist his mouth in a bid to hide his smile.

You stop walking for just a second, and give him a dead pan stare that transitions into an eye-roll before you flatly say, “All right, good night.” and pretend to turn around to leave.

It makes Joe throw his head back in a laugh, both his arms grabbing at you and pulling you close.

“Mine, okay. Mine.”

And you fall back into step, smiling into your scarf at how you just made Joe’s laugh echo down the street.

Feels good to make Joe laugh.

It’s quiet for a bit, just a short few seconds. Just footsteps on the ground amongst the noises of the city. Somehow, it feels like it drags on, like every second lasts a whole minute, and you can’t help filling it with awkward chat. “No,” you start. “Jasper’s put all of his things where they’re supposed to go.” And you give Joe a pointed look after.

He bites immediately.

“Wha– I always put my things where they’re supposed to go!”

He doesn’t.

You know he doesn’t.

He knows you know he doesn’t.

It’s impossible to forget all of the little things that made the rug look all lumpy. You’d always keep things under there for ages, which gave you a lot of time to quietly lift up corners to examine all the mess.

So you snort, and he stutters through beginnings of words he never finishes to find excuses that don’t exist until you’re both laughing.

Then he says, “Here. I’ll put this thing where it’s meant to go.” And you think it’s just about the cheesiest innuendo ever, but then he takes your wrist in his hand and lets his fingers intertwine with yours.

You look up at him with a pursed smile, but Joe’s already looking right ahead, making sure you don’t bump into anything.

You’re lucky it’s cold enough to blame the flush of your cheeks on the cold wind.

You hold hands all the way to Joe’s flat.

It’s nice.

You also talk about Jasper all the way to Joe’s flat.

That’s less nice.

Joe asks what else Jasper does that he allegedly doesn’t. If he lets you keep your heating on. If he lets you sleep closest to the door. Every question comes out with disdain, like this loser doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.

And you answer every question with lies. Paint a very pretty picture.

Jasper doesn’t even fucking exist, but you like that Joe thinks you’re taken. That you’re off the market, and that he shouldn’t be taking you home, but still chooses to. You think maybe he wouldn’t have held your hand if he thought you weren’t already spoken for.

However, it doesn’t feel so nice to remember all the things that ruined your relationship with Joe. He just keeps listing a bunch of shit you’d once yelled at him for, and you don’t think he fully understands how it’s bringing the mood down.

Presumably, you’re meant to think it’s funny, so you smile, but all of it sits wrong in your gut. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that uncomfortably sticks to your tongue and sours your mood a little.

The short-term fun with Joe is meant to be just that. Fun. You don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be going home with him right now. If you did, you’d have taken Emily with you tonight.

You refrain from saying anything, though.

You’re still you, after all.

You just smile and tell Joe that Jasper actually does do all the things that Joe never did, and hope it sparks enough jealousy in him to maybe do something about it.

“Hmm,” Joe says when you turn the corner and his building comes into view. “Jasper sounds... he sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t he?”

He does.

You’ve created the image of a perfect boyfriend. One who you know you’d never actually gel with; you need someone who pushes back a little.

Problem is... Joe knows that too.

Just when the thought crosses your mind that maybe Joe knows you’re making everything up, that you’ve been lying this whole time you’ve been holding hands, Joe confirms your fears.

“Almost too um... almost too good to be true, wouldn’t you say?” he narrows his eyes in suspicion, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yea, well. Some people are.” you shrug, but know Joe is reading your unsteady body language just fine.

“Sure, sure. Yea. I guess so.” Joe says, and then falls silent.

He knows you’re lying.

Well, fuck.

And then, he lets the silence linger.

Joe doesn’t say anything as he fishes his keys from a pocket and lets you into his building. Doesn’t say anything as he pushes the lift button. Just gives you a little smile, like he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, thinking secret thoughts.

It gets in your hair.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s... no, it’s nothing.”

Joe lets his small smile turn into a fat smirk and it’s starting to get on your nerves. The lift doors open, and you assertively step inside before Joe can give you a small ladies-first gesture.

Joe watches you press the button to his floor before he shakes his head a little and follows you in.

“What?” you ask again, and to that, Joe finally lets a barking laugh out.

“What?” he mimics, feeding off of the brooding bit of bite he can sense growing underneath your skin.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” Joe patronises, joy very much still visible in the lines on his cheeks.

He knows you’re single.

He knows there’s no Jasper.

“Hmm.” It’s your turn to narrow eyes at him. “Yea, no. Of course not. You don’t have to try to piss me off, you’re right. You’ve got the skills to auto-pilot your way–”

In a lightning-speed quick move, Joe shuts you up by suddenly getting close enough for you to stumble back against the mirrored panel or the lift. He’s got two hands touching your sides over your coat, firm enough for you to feel them through the thick layers of fabric.

It startles you into silence, and makes you audibly swallow.

You can see from up close how Joe smugly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes roving over you slowly, and, fuck.

Yea.

Yea. Okay.

It shifts.

All of it is shifting.

The annoyance and slight anger transfers into something else.

Into something a little more raunchy.

You feel a sudden rush down your body from the way Joe’s eyes blaze with intention.

Joe knows you. Bit rash of you to forget.

Just before the lift stills and the doors open behind him, Joe lets his body sway forward a bit to press himself up against you entirely. It makes your breath hitch and stutter. Makes you want to grab hold of the large collar of his coat to pull him down enough so you can kiss him.

But then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Pushes himself off, quickly moves away, walks out of the lift, and leaves you there to catch your breath for a second.

Fucking hell.

Oh, tonight is going to be interesting.

You don’t leave the lift until the doors start closing and you have to quickly launch yourself across to get an arm in front of the sensor. Down the hall you see him disappear into his flat, leaving his door open, and you take rushing steps to follow him inside.

You don’t want to waste any more time.

You want to undress right there on his doormat, despite the bitterly cold temperature you’ve just stepped into.

You want find Joe, who you can hear is already opening and closing cupboards in his kitchen, and just... you don’t know. Jump him, you guess.

That lift moment has made you want to devour him. Made you want to be devoured by him.

But then you close his door and step into his kitchen, and find him at the counter. He’s got his back turned, and is super calmly pouring two glasses of wine.

No urgency.

Zero haste.

He knows what he’s just done to you. Knows the effect that likely must have had. He’s toying with you. Fucking playing.

You drop your coat where you’re standing, right onto the floor. Toe your shoes off to make a pile. You cross your arms and grab hold of the bottom of your top, ready to pull that over your head next, but you pause to watch Joe’s shoulders move under his shirt as he carefully twists and pushes the cork back onto the bottle to seal it.

When he turns around, he leans against the counter, one hand on the edge of it, and in the other he’s holding a nice fat glass of red.

Glass.

One glass.

For a moment you just assume that there’s another hiding behind his back, though it doesn’t even fully register.

You make eye-contact as he takes a slow sip of his drink, and then you slowly pull your top off. It reveals a lacy bra you’re convinced Joe likes the look of.

And you’re right.

Joe halts, and openly stares. Mouth in his wine. Hypnotised. Frozen on the spot. Mind slowly turning to mush.

He’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

You take a deep breath, inflating your whole chest, and Joe groans at the sight. The glass of wine gets put back down behind him, and you don’t even think he has taken real sip. Then he takes a few steps to pull a chair from his table.

He holds a hand up that means, one second, and pulls at the fabric of his trousers to give himself a bit more space before he sits down. He shifts a little, settles in, and then leans back with his legs spread wide, both hands behind his head, fingers folded and elbows sticking out.

He takes a deep breath before he gives a small nod that says, carry on.

You bite your teeth into your bottom lip as you smile, because Joe is an idiot, and you let your hands find the button to your trousers to take off next.

Then, suddenly, it lands.

There’s one single glass of wine on the counter.

One.

You stop your movements as you look at it and watch the red liquid inside softly swirl from when Joe put it down.

It takes a second for Joe to follow your gaze, and for him to understand what you’re looking at.

He frowns in confusion a little, looks back at you to see that you’re still staring, and then looks back again, and–

“Oh...”

Your expression has gone cold.

And Joe thinks that maybe he gets it. He isn’t entirely sure, but he’s smart enough to know that the show he had just settled in for is probably going to get cancelled if he doesn’t do anything.

“Did you...”

But he’s not sure what to say. Doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. When you start moving, he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.

It’s crazy how this feels like it used to feel, before.

But, it’s a little different now, because… there’s nothing at stake. There’s no you to protect. No you two as a couple to preserve.

That stupid single glass of red wine.

You fucking hate it.

And you know it’s sick, you know that you’re not meant to enjoy this, but the feeling of rage bubbling up within you honestly feels kind of good. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to experience full-body resentment, and have the immediate source of it right there to take it out on.

You want to feel this dark, sticky displeasure.

Feels fucking good.

Joe’s been reminding you of what a shit boyfriend he was to you, which was meant to be ha-ha funny. Joe thought enough time had passed. You had gone from no-contact to two people that bickered for a bit, and then would end up in bed together. It had happened twice already, and you had all the right ingredients to keep this going. The recipe had proven itself delicious, and Joe thought he could just... serve the same meal again.

It’s self-destructive, you know it is, but… you are hungry for it too.

You take a few slow steps and walk over to look at this glass of wine more closely. Joe watches you from his seat, entirely unsure of what to do, and then, without warning, you slowly push the whole thing into the sink.

Red splashes everywhere, and the glass clatters loudly, but it doesn’t break.

Next, you take the bottle into your hands. Look at the label for a moment. Pretend to read it. It’s still pretty full.

Too bad, you think. Such a waste.

You remove the cork, turn around to look Joe directly in the eye, and then tip that over as well. The whole sink colours blood read as you drain the whole thing, and all Joe can do is watch on from his seat.

He doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t say anything.

Just watches you and feels the energy of the room build.

He’d forgotten how things always build with you.

You’re quite the sight, face reading thunder, standing in his kitchen in your bra, breath deepening with every second that passes.

Joe hates what it does to him inside of his trousers.

When the bottle empties, wine clattering in the sink, Joe sees your face change. Something more… calm seemingly overcomes you. You look... pleased.

“Does that feel justified?” Joe asks, eyes blinking at you.

“Fuck you. Yes it does.”

“Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”

You don’t give a shit how expensive that was, but just because you know Joe does, you want to know.

“Tell me.”

Joe scans your body all the way down and then all the way back up.

“Come here.” Joe holds an arm out and reaches for you.

“Shut up. Tell me.” You’re already making your way over.

“That’s a class A premier grand cru...”

You take Joe’s hand and let him pull you to sit on his lap. To straddle him, thighs spread wide, one leg over each one of his.

“That was a class A premier grand cru.” the words mean nothing to you, you know fuck all about wine, but there’s something glorious about correcting Joe.

“Hmm.” Joe hums as his nose nudges yours, and he lets both hands slide up your thighs until he finds the bits he likes holding most. He uses his grip to pull you in closer and continues, “A blend of merlot, and cabernet franc...” Joe’s French accent is awful. “An award-winning Château Angélus from... from 2016, I think...”

That’s fairly recent, you think. Can’t be that expens–

“Cost me over 500 quid.”

Your eyes darken.

Good.

You wouldn’t pay much more than a tenner for a bottle of the same size.

“Should’ve poured me a glass.”

And it’s only then that the penny drops. That he gets it. You can see it in his eyes. The flush of memories suddenly making it to the forefront of his brain.

The silent treatment.

The coffees he didn’t make you.

The wine he eventually did pour for you.

That one glass of red that temporarily had fixed everything.

Shit.

Joe grimaces. Groans. Squeezes his eyes shut. Feels like an idiot.

“Should’ve poured you a–”

You kiss Joe.

Hard.

Breathe him in, and move in enough for it to almost make the chair tip backwards. You’ve got both your arms around his neck, hips moving over Joe’s lap in a desperate grind, all needy and in search of feeling something.

Fire.

You want to feel the fire.

Momentarily, you think it’s working. That something is catching aflame. You can feel how Joe spreads his legs even wider, bucking his hips upward as he presses himself into you.

Joe is straining in his trousers, and he groans as you figure out the right rhythm to make it feel good with every hip roll, with every back and forth.

You break the kiss to let a moan escape you, head dropping back, and Joe’s mouth finds the skin of your neck to taste. His teeth graze before he kisses as you fiercely move against each other. Louder noises escape you when Joe lets a hand curl around and grab you by the back of your neck.

“Yea? That feel nice?” he pants, and all you can do is bob your head in a barely there nod as you keep moving.

It does feel nice.

Feels really nice.

Not exactly fire, though. You’re both in trousers, fabric rubbing together furiously, dry humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers who haven’t passed third base yet.

So, not fire, but nice none the less.

In contrast, there’s a lot of things Joe’s feeling, and he kind of wants you to know about all of them. Needs to speak them into the air in order to fully process what’s happening inside of his brain.

“Did you know I um… I broke everything off, the next day?” Joe starts, and stops to curse under his breath. “Fuck. Yea, keep going. Shit. Ah... A-after you left, I mean, remember? I had a lot of m-missed calls, so I called her back, and I–”

You shut Joe up with a kiss.

Try to at least.

“We could–” Joe starts again after turning his head and pushing you aside with his nose, both hands spread wide over your thighs as he helps you move over his lap. “Remember, how we really were something?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Try to focus on the feelings inside of your body instead of on the words you don’t want to hear.

“We could be something still.”

“N-no.”

You refuse to acknowledge what Joe’s trying to tell you, but don’t stop your movements. You can’t stop, head dropping back. This all feels too good.

It’s still not fire, though.

There’s no stakes.

You’re both single, and every decision you have made this evening turns out to have been inconsequential.

It’s... it’s almost boring.

But it’s good enough.

You just need a couple more seconds, you can feel it building already.

“We c-couldn’t be somethinhgh...” you choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Joe insists, voice low and breathy, your bodies still moving in tandem. He then uses one hand takes hold of your face by your cheeks, tilting your head down so he can make eye-contact with you for a second.

“Yes we could.” He sounds hopeful as his eyes search yours. “Don’t you get it?”

But your eyes are glassy. They flutter and want to roll back.

Joe knows this look.

Know what this means.

And it’s not like Joe thinks his kind words will really fix anything, but, maybe they will, you know? Maybe. He’s glad he has said them anyway, even though you look like you haven’t even properly heard him.

“You close, baby?”

He switches gears.

“Yea? Come on.” He helps you move with strong arms that press you down a little more, and your arms scramble behind his back in your want to hold onto him tightly.

“There you go.” he coos into your ear, and, it’s not fire, but you come anyway.

Joe should have poured you a glass of wine.

Shouldn’t have brought up bad memories, shouldn’t have tried to be funny about it, and absolutely should have simply gone and poured you a glass.

You pretend that a glass of wine would’ve made a difference tonight.

The difference that you had hoped to find.

That would’ve lit the fire.

Deep down you know that’s not it, but still. The empty bottle is right there, watching you come down from your high, Joe still hard beneath you, and it’s easy to use that as the excuse.

You decide on the spot that Joe’s going to have to deal with what resides inside of his underwear by himself.

You’re done.

Sitting up, you look him in the eye for a short moment and softly but definitively say, “Should’ve poured me a glass.” and press a small kiss to his cheek which Joe gladly accepts.

Because he knows you’re right.

“Should’ve poured you a glass.”

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[heartshattering]

Well, I managed to make it through the night. Even with all the physical pain, anxiety, catastrophizing, obsessive thoughts, panicking, sobbing, etc. I still fell asleep eventually (and without having to take more of my sleep aid than what I've been taking for the past 2 weeks). Pain is actually a little bit better today but not completely gone.

I scheduled an appointment with my doctor for June 13 but still have to make an appointment with the gastroenterologist and with the lab to test me for stomach bacteria again. I'm trying my best but this is so exhausting and there's no guarantee I'll even have any answers by the end of all this. I just wish this was all a nightmare I could wake up from and finally be okay.

[stars-obsession-pit]

Danny Phantom was not used to fighting magic users. Ghosts, yes. But humans with powers? No.

So when a cult managed to successfully summon and bind him, he lacked the knowledge of how to stop them.

And they tore him apart.

His core was broken into pieces, each one then implanted into one of the most loyal cult members (or potentially sold off to another person to use…) to grant them a portion of Phantom’s many powers.

However, the cult didn’t entirely know what they were doing either. You see, it turns out that shattering Danny’s core in that manner didn’t truly end him. His soul still persisted, still refused to die even as it was trapped amongst the disparate shards. Though each individual piece lacked the strength of mind or power to affect their hosts, they would gradually forge themselves together anew should they ever be gathered back together.

And after Red Hood killed several of the cult’s members, that process began. Their shards, now freed, transferred to the vigilante, instinctively latching onto his proto-core. Though still not yet whole enough to form a truly conscious fragment of Danny, they are enough to start to nudge Hood in the right direction (bolstered in effectiveness by Jason’s connection to death)

Jason can feel it deep within his soul. There’s something more to this cult’s powers than just normal magic, and he has a growing need to find out what that is. To stop them. To burn them all down and dig their secrets from the ashes.

[puppyeared]

if escape rooms as team building exercises became popular im not sure if id be more excited or terrified

[calitsnow]

The answer is rather long so I am using a reblog to answer to @buddleu

But their observation was so interesting that I had to write a little thing on it.

I admit I’d never thought of looking at the Spider of Marriage for Hong Lu, but now that you mention it, along with the mention of “naïveté” in his mirror dungeon story, and after going back to review the various possible scenarios in the mirror dungeon, I find your observation very interesting, and I’d like to add my own thoughts.

Firstly, as you say, the theme of marriage is very fitting for Hong Lu because, after all, it’s a very Jia Baoyu theme coded (and also Lin Daiyu), and the theme of a couple being tricked and exploited by those around them due to their naïveté inevitably reminds me of the tragedy of Jia Baoyu and Lin Daiyu, who were lied to and manipulated to achieve something (the marriage of Jia Baoyu to Xue Baochai, which was also intended as a way to motivate Jia Baoyu to behave like an adult and a man of his status/as was expected of him).

They (the abnormality and Hong Lu) didn’t choose to live this way, but they had no choice, and the flowers take advantage of their vulnerability to impose their presence and will:

« Those flowers were not planted or raised by the couple.

The petals were feeding on someone’s naïveté. »

Well, we don’t know if that’s the case for Hong Lu, but given everything we know, and to use the parallel between the two, it’s not far-fetched to say that Hong Lu is likely in a similar situation.

That was my first addition. Then, even if it’s clear that even if the abnormality represents an early commitment and the inability to leave the relationship due to the presence and expectations of others, forcing the grooms to live supporting each other and literally bleeding to fulfill the hunger of others (the flowers):

« The buds appear to be filled with someone’s blood.

The bride and groom crawl between them.

As they scuttle around, blood seeps out of their hands and feet. »

This description is strangely fitting for Hong Lu.

Hong Lu finds himself enduring a situation even if it wounds him, all to satisfy the hunger of, I guess, his family.

It’s even more fitting if the theme of marriage is also addressed and used in Hong Lu’s Canto, echoing Jia Baoyu, who had to marry and enter this relationship because of his family.

But of course, the most interesting thing, as you said, is that the grooms suffer out of naïveté; they don’t know any better. They bleed, they support each other (literally) , but because they think they have no other choices; they accept their situation and see this environment as their home, even if it hurts them, and as it is said:

« When you tore out a vine, it screamed.

As much as it hurts them, it’s still their home.

Those who ruin it will be detested. »

And the flowers (their surroundings) take advantage of this; they exploit the grooms’ naïveté and gullibility in accepting the presence of the flowers as they were offered as congratulations, even though it’s just hypocrisy since these flowers aren’t there to celebrate and honor their union but to feed off the couple and pressure them to stay together:

« Those congratulatory flowers

may be acting as a curse now,

preventing them from leaving the nest. »

And to return to what you said:

« When you plucked a blood-soaked flower, it expressed joy. »

Since the vines are also their home, even though it’s what wounds them, trapped them and makes them bleed over the flowers, it’s their home (the spider web) where they live, which is why they get angry when someone tries to destroy their home. But if someone chooses to remove a flower, it makes the abnormality happy because it’s like removing a part of the problem, an unwanted guest from their home—a freeloader, someone feeding off their suffering and who pressured them to stay together and trapped in this web.

They can’t remove them themselves because they are there under the guise of congratulatory flowers, but if someone else does, they will be pleased because it’s one less problem, one less flower to feed/satisfy.

In short, all this to say that I completely agree with you that Hong Lu and Spider of Marriage are a very good fit, better than I thought, whether in terms of the marriage theme (arranged in a way), of enduring a painful situation to satisfy those around them, being unable to leave this situation due to this entourage that pretends to be there out of goodwill but only wants to exploit their naïveté, or in terms of how both consider this environment created by their surroundings (the flowers) as their home and don’t question it (maybe once again because of their naivety)

I wrote this quickly, so I hope it’s clear, and I apologize if there are any repetitions but anyway thank you for your observation!

Let's talk about why Hong Lu’s left eye (his jade) is getting dimmer and what are the powers and characteristics of Jia Baoyu's jade in Dream of the Red Chamber.

Today, I would like to discuss Dante’s mysterious phrase about Hong Lu, taking the opportunity to explore the jade of Jia Baoyu in more detail, especially its powers and the influence it exerts over Jia Baoyu. Here is the structure of the discussion:

Does the light of Hong Lu symbolize his break from his false reality?

Does the light of Hong Lu symbolize the end of his journey and his will to "live"?

The appearance of Jia Baoyu's jade and its powers + their loss and how they are regained

Its connection with Jia Baoyu

Brief conclusion

Does the light of Hong Lu symbolize his break from his false reality?

In Canto VII, a phrase from Dante naturally captured the attention of all Hong Lu theorists. Dante observes the following thing about Hong Lu’s eye:

"I noticed that the light in Hong Lu's left eye was growing dimmer, like light fading away as it sinks into the depths of the dark waters…"

But what does this mean? To answer that, we must first determine what this light signifies before interpreting its disappearance. For that, we need to consider the dialogue preceding Dante’s remark—the words of Hong Lu himself when he speaks about the sparkling in Don Quixote’s eyes:

"Isn't Don Quixote the most lucid one out of all of us?" "Her eyes, Dante. Always twinkling like two bright stars. They're so fascinating."

To Hong Lu, the glow in the eyes seems to be linked to clarity of mind and awareness. To him, Don Quixote is the most lucid of all because her eyes twinkle like two bright stars. Yet we know this is inaccurate, as Don Quixote is immersed in the illusion she created by erasing her memory at this point. So, it’s reasonable to suspect that Hong Lu's interpretation might be flawed.

This is also consistent with what we know about Hong Lu. Despite his frequent insightful observations and quick understanding of reality, his judgment can sometimes be clouded by his upbringing. After all, one of the first things we learn about him is that his view of the world and his interpretations can be distorted by his sheltered life.

Are we, therefore, dealing with a case where Hong Lu’s upbringing prevents him from perceiving the truth?

Don Quixote’s reality is an illusion, much like Hong Lu’s appears to be. But because he sees his form of reality reflected in Don Quixote’s, he can only conclude that Don Quixote’s twinkling eyes are an expression of clarity when it might actually be the opposite. This could foreshadow Hong Lu’s arc of breaking away from his past, family, and conditioning, realizing that what he associates with reality might be a lie, simply because he didn’t know any better.

After all, Dulcinea connects the term "naive" with Don Quixote’s twinkling eyes, (and "naive" is the adjective used for Hong Lu):

"I almost prefer that naive look from earlier. I still hated your eyes, twinkling or not, but…"

To clarify what “naive” implies, I like relying on The Walking Dead 4’s definition: Naive means you think a certain way because you don’t know the way it really is.

I find this perfectly matches how naivety is understood in the world of Limbus Company, even if we cannot be certain of that. But if we accept that this definition applies to “naive” in Project moon’s world, then being naive implies both innocence—almost childlike—and living in a lie or denial of reality.

Additionally, the emphasis on the sparkles might support the theory of the moonstone, or that Hong Lu is connected to the abnormality Yang, as it involves disregarding reality (to avoid mental breakdown). But we are not here to talk about that.

Thus, if Hong Lu is mistaken, and the twinkling represents disillusionment and denial of reality, then the more Hong Lu's eye sparkles, the more he’s immersed in illusion, a false sense of truth.

So, the first reason Hong Lu’s eye is dimming could be that he’s beginning to realize his reality wasn’t true, symbolizing the start of his awakening. After all, even Vergilius reacted with « … » to Hong Lu’s remark so it could mean that he knows that Hong Lu is in the wrong.

So, if the glow represents the jade influences on Hong Lu’s mental state and perception of reality, then the dimming of his jade’s light might signify that he’s starting to break free from this mental crutch. However this is not what I believe in…

Does the light of Hong Lu symbolize the end of his journey and his will to "live"?

What bothers me is that Dante describes the dimming of Hong Lu’s eye light in a rather pessimistic, almost fatalistic way, as though Hong Lu is fading along with his jade's light, loosing himself:

"I noticed that the light in Hong Lu's left eye was growing dimmer, like light fading away as it sinks into the depths of the dark waters…"

So, if this dimming light is a symbol of breaking free from an illusion why does Dante describe this so negatively with an emphasis on the idea of loosing Hong Lu? Maybe because, it is indeed a bad omen.

According to what Dulcinea says, Don Quixote's eyes were empty of light before when she was Sancho, this absence of twinkling at the time seems to be linked to the fact that Don Quixote/Sancho does not really believe in life and has already suffered too much from the latter. Dad Quixote then offers her a new life and hopes to bring those stars into her eyes by giving her a new family and then inviting her to participate in her adventures with him.

If we follow this analysis, then the light in Hong Lu’s eye equals his will to live and optimism about the future. So if this light is fading, does that mean Hong Lu is beginning to lose the will to live?

Well, yes, I think so... but in a very specific way.

Hear me out, Hong Lu’s eye is dimming because he’s aware his journey is nearing its end, that 7 of the 12 sinners have already regained their golden boughs, and that he may be the next:

Hong Lu’s day is ending, and it is reflected in his eye. I would even go so far as to say Hong Lu, in some way (without being aware of it), equates his return home with the end of his life (this life of new experiences and in the City, and this life with freedom).

So, this take is much more of a speculation than the last one, but if we stick with the idea that twinkling = will to live (forward) then Hong Lu started his journey in a new world with a bright eye with expectations and a desire to live new experiences, but he knows that one day he will have to return home, he knows that his journey will end one day and therefore it is normal that the closer Hong Lu gets to his golden bough moment the more the light of his eye fades, since this will be the end of his "new experiences".

Which could also echo Hong Lu's suicidal tendencies.

But then, why does Hong Lu’s eye produce sparks during Bloodfiend Hunter, Liu Story, and Yurodivy Story?

And it is now, that I would like to propose something. What if we separated the glow of Hong Lu’s eye and the sparks it produces: What if these two manifestations relate to different things? If Hong Lu’s glow reflects his mental state, then perhaps the sparks represent an effect of his jade’s power.

This leads me to discuss Jia Baoyu’s jade, both to support this analysis and to share information about the stone and its powers for those who might not have time to read the novel.

The appearance of Jia Baoyu's jade and its powers + their loss and how they are regained

In Chapter 8, Jia Baoyu’s jade is described as follows:

The size of a sparrow egg (about 22.5 mm)

Shining like a bright coppery cloud

Smooth and lustrous like marbled cream.

On the jade’s face is inscribed:

"Precious Gem of Spiritual Perception (also called Precious Jade of Spiritual Understanding). If thou wilt lose me not and never forget me, Eternal life and constant luck will be with thee!"

This means the stone is a talisman of protection and happiness. If Baoyu (or whoever holds it) keeps it close and never forgets it, they will be blessed with a long, prosperous life.

The reverse side reads:

"To exorcize evil spirits and the accessory visitations; to cure predestined sickness; to prognosticate weal and woe."

This inscription highlights the jade’s protective power: it can ward off evil, cure illness, and predict fortune or disaster. It is both a magical and prophetic object.

This ability is confirmed again in chapter 25 when a Taoist priest says:

“In your family, you have readily at hand a precious thing, the like of which is rare to find in the world. It possesses the virtue of alleviating the ailment, so why need you inquire about remedies?”

It is then revealed that it appears that the jade has lost some of its powers due to the dissipated life Baoyu has led; it has been polluted by music, lust, the pursuit of wealth, and other worldly distractions.

The monk then fix the jade and recites a poem reflecting the spiritual journey of the jade, as well as Baoyu's. In it, we are told:

The jade was once bound neither by heaven nor earth, existing in a state of spiritual purity undisturbed by human emotions (joy or sorrow).

However, upon entering the human world, it was exposed to disturbances. The jade is now tarnished by material elements ("the traces of powder and rouge stains"), symbolizing the carnal pleasures and temptations to which Baoyu has succumbed.

Finally, the monk predicts that, although the jade is currently trapped ("caged like a duck"), it will awaken from its "slumber," and once it fulfills its destiny, it will be freed.

[Little paranthesis]

I find the sentence used by the mond really interesting : "House bars both day and night encage thee like a duck" because it is really fitting for (yes Jia Baoyu but also) Hong's Lu's situation, especially with the use of the word "house".

[End of the little paranthesis]

Its connection with Jia Baoyu

The jade and Baoyu are interconnected and can be seen as one and the same, with each influencing the other. For instance, Baoyu's mood and emotions affect the appearance of the jade (its brightness), and the presence of the jade impacts Jia Baoyu's mental state (its absence renders him completely witless/foolish).

At one point in the novel, Jia Baoyu's jade shines particularly brightly when he believes he will marry Lin Daiyu (when he will actually marry Xue Baochai). This strong light seems to be triggered by Jia Baoyu aligning with his spiritual destiny.

All of this to say that even in the novel the glow of Jia Baoyu’s jade can mean several things at the time.

Brief conclusion

Returning to Hong Lu, I wonder if Project Moon has separated the manifestation of the jade's powers from the expression of its alignment with Hong Lu’s mental state: therefore, when there are small sparks, it indicates that his jade’s powers are manifesting, while the varying intensity of light would reflect a part of his mental state.

It would suggest that Hong Lu, as an individual, is gradually disappearing, maybe renouncing to his will, becoming a puppet entirely under his family's control. Indeed, when Jia Baoyu loses his jade and becomes completely foolish, his behavior shows that he is controllable and malleable; he is so witless that he cannot act independently and only repeats what he is told.

However, I can’t complete this analysis without mentioning that Jia Baoyu’s jade also loses its shine due to worldly influences, like music, lust, the pursuit of wealth, and other earthly distractions. So, does the city’s dark and horrific environment tarnish Hong Lu's jade?

Well, the issue is that, although the city is an apocalyptic world grounded in reality, it can’t truly be described as an environment where Hong Lu experiences lust or wealth, the false pleasures of life; which are what tarnish the jade in DOTRC.

On the contrary, he lives more of a life that Jia Baoyu begins to envy at one point in the novel because it is a life free from the obligations and facades imposed on him by his family. Therefore, what he is currently experiencing should not affect the brightness of his eye.

So, after all this blabla, I think that Hong Lu’s eye is gradually getting dimmer as the end of Hong Lu's journey approaches, which signifies the end of his new experiences and his return to a life of wealth but also to a life with his family and to how things used to be.

We could see this light fading away as an hourglass where the sand is slowly falling down but little by little there will be no more remaining sand at the top.

I fear that when this happens, by going back home, Hong Lu will lose all individuality and will, becoming docile and obedient as he seems to have always been at home. And he is accepting this and it is because he is accepting this that his eye is getting dimmer, it is reflecting Hong Lu’s decline.

I think that during Hong Lu’s Canto, one of the biggest challenges will not only be to retrieve the golden bough but also to convince Hong Lu to leave with us. It’s almost certain that when we reach his home, Hong Lu won’t be able to leave with us because, his family won’t allow it, and above all, he won’t want to either because he’ll convince himself that he can't and that his little trip is over.

I’d like to finish by saying that Hong Lu’s Rose Hunter EGO Corrosion could really be linked to this because we can see that Hong Lu in his corrosion has a hangman’s like rope around his neck, formed by his horse’s reins.

Even if I want to analyse Hong Lu’s EGOs in another post I will just say that for me it is the symbol that Hong Lu is dependent of his (determined) fate and the will of the narrative (his family) even if it has to equal to his death (literally or figuratively or mentally we don’t know). I think it also means that even if Hong Lu believe being in control of his actions and decisions, in reality he is just following the lead of « his horse », the one conducting him, deciding where he is going — and so I think following his family’s wishes.

Voilà, thank you for reading!

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads // twitter thread

To Shape A Dragon’s Breath

YA fantasy

a young Indigenous girl finds & bonds with a dragon hatchling - the first time in many generations for her people - and is required to go to the coloniser’s dragon academy in their mainland city, to learn how to raise her dragon and the science of its magic

historical inspired setting on the cusp of industrial revolution with steampunk vibes

bi polyamorous MC, Black lesbian SC, nonverbal autistic SC

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Some mild existential dread in the house today

[thybirbman]

They are, in fact, each other's first friends at the academy. Only friends, really. Because guess what, Houhua? You are not the only adult trapped in a child's body! Well, you're the only genuine article, but Itachi's a genuine replica! In that, he is also way too mature and does not know how to act like a child while still being influenced by his child prison and is therefore off putting to the rest of the child population.

I totally get Houhua not noticing Itachi's puppy crush at all, that's super fun, but I am so attached to Houhua being fully aware of the crush. Like he knows this small child has THE biggest puppy crush on him, and the part that goes straight over his head is that he is not, in fact, an adult (and therefore romantically unattainable to a small child) human male that a small child has a puppy crush on. He is actually a small child that another small child has a puppy crush on. Meaning, he is not, in fact, unattainable at all. He is VERY attainable, actually, and he should start working about that- but oh no, Houhua has his airpods in! He can't hear the Itachi's Eternal Devotion bus coming! It's gonna hit him!

Itachi is so confused, a little scared, kinda betrayed- but also, does he have any right to feel that way? When he's killed (almost) their entire clan? Does he have any right to feel betrayed about Houhua hiding his abilities from him when he would have used that exact knowledge to dispose of him? Should he not be grateful that Houhua didn't trust him because he doesn't deserve to be trusted because this way Houhua is alive?

Also, I need you to have this mental image as well- Itachi and Kisame on their Akatsuki missions, and in the middle of the night, Itachi will just be in the corner. Just. On his knees, in the corner, forehead to the wall. Just mentally repenting. Because fuck Houhua has only gotten more beautiful as time went on.

Itachi tried to kill him. Tried to ruin what they had. Tried to end it. And Houhua stopped him. Hoyhua didn't let him. And fuck, that's a mystery and Itachi feels so many things about it but one thing he definitely feels about it is- fuck, it was so hot. Like looking back on it, if Itachi does not remind himself that HE KILLED HIS ENTIRE FAMILY THE SAME NIGHT, thinking about how Huohua got away would get him so hard, so fast.

Like, imagine being Itachi. You've done this horrible thing, forced into a position where it was the only option you thought possible, and then you went through with it, even though you didn't want to- and then someone stopped you. Showed you it maybe wasn't the only way. Imagine the fear you'd feel about the fact that you were able to be convinced to kill the people you love, but then the utter relief that comes with the knowledge that there is someone out there that can keep you in check? Yes, Houhua didn't win against Itachi, but Itachi is about as mentally ill as they come. He failed in his mission to kill Houhua, which means Houhua won, which means Houhua, in a way, is stronger than Itachi, at least in his mind, and that means Houhua can stop him. If Itachi does something wrong, if he chooses wrong, Houhua can and will correct him.

Because Itachi might have been the clan heir, but he is such a follower. He follows orders, and he does not give them. He hates having that responsibility, that amount of power. He doesn't trust himself with it- look at what happened the last time he made a decision! Yeah, that decision was strongly influenced by Danzo, but Itachi doesn't give a crap, he has some severe survivors guilt/just actual guilt to deal with.

He hates having to make big decisions because he doesn't trust himself to make the right choice, and now Houhua is here to hold his leash. And that is frankly the hottest thing to ever happen.

Is this a healthy way to live? No. Is it about as healthy as you're gonna get in the military focused dystopia that is Naruto? Yeah, kinda. And again, doesn't really matter that Houhua didn't really win and can't actually fight off Itachi, he won in Itachi's mind, and that's enough for Itachi's monkey follower brain to be like, "welp, guess we listen to him no matter what now."

Also, I feel like I'm making out to be way worse than it would be. This is basically just- Itachi is just really into being told what to do and would like to not be in charge. Houhua would like to have literally any control over his life. And well, I'm just saying, he would have a lot of control over a lot of stuff if the Uchiha heir/Uchiha heir's brother was gladly at his beck and call...

And last but not least, Jun. Oh, Jun, Jun, Jun... the answer is simple! Houhua has two hands. Thruple. (Because you can pry Houhua/Itachi from my fucking cold dead hands.)

Also, I get what you mean with Itachi having control freak energy, but to me, at least, his control freak energy is very much "oh god, idk what I'm doing and I do not want to be here or be in charge, BUT I AM, SO I GUESS I NEED TO JUST KEEP TRACK OF EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE AT ALL TIMES BC IDK HOW ELSE TO DEAL WITH THIS HELP". His need for control comes from a place of complete panic and a distrust in his own ability to evaluate a situation, and if literally anyone else could take the wheel, he would be eternally grateful. But also, only someone with his undying trust and loyalty could ever be trusted with the wheel and he will bite anyone else that tries.

Basically, I feel like if he was eternally devoted to Houhua, and Houhua told him, nah, I knew about this, it's cool, Itachi would immediately go boneless with relaxation and just zoink out of the conversation. Trusted person has said everything is fine, so literally cannot comprehend a world where everything isn't fine.

Itachi is such a messed up little traumatized freak (affectionate). He has so many issues about control and making important decisions and following orders and trust and just anything to do with his own bodily autonomy. And really, most high-ranking/strong ninjas in this dystopia militaristic dictatorship are gonna have some complicated emotions about that stuff.

Anyway, Jun and Itachi can totally be cat fighting before Houhua comes along to set everything straight, tho. Let them fight over best boy, until best boy comes along and drags them both away by the scruff.

Can you tell I'm trying so fucking hard to manipulate Houhua/Itachi into working out? Because I am trying so hard to make them work out, and I want said hard work to be acknowledged.

That's all, though. It's 2 a.m., so I'm blaming anything that doesn't make sense, all spelling mistakes, and anything embarrassing on that. Because it's 2 a.m. and I'm tired. But still, take all of what I've said super seriously, and please join me in the newly formed Houhua/Itachi camp that I just erected.

(BTW, I have never read/seen svsss, nor read any of the fanfiction. I am purely running on my love of Naruto and context clues. Just so like you understand why Jun was mentioned dos briefly (I do not know who he is).)

Also also also also. Sasuke is going to stab everyone. With everyone being just his brother and his brother's loser friend. He is going to stab them for all the reasons. For killing his entire family, for apparently being forced into doing that, for faLLING IN LOVE WITH A MASS KIN SLAYER BEFORE SAID KIN SLAYING TURNED OUT TO BE FORCED. WHAT THE FUCK, HOUHUA-NII?

So I vaguely remember Huohua was supposed to be the girl Itachi had a crush on? Or maybe I'm mixing him up with someone else. Either way, I think Huohua should, in fact, be Itachi's gay awakening at like 7 years old, and that's how Itachi-nii gets his loser friend.

And he does this by being the way bigger loser because he follows Huohua around like a lost duck and just... helps him with stuff. He tries to buy him dango (Itacgi's favorite treat), and then when that doesn't work, he buys him tomatoes (Sasuke's favorite treat), and when that doesn't work, he does not ask what Huohua likes, instead he stalks him and tries to figure it out on his own. Which would be super creepy as an adult, but the kid is like 8, so it's just kinda cute. A little scary because he does actually have sneaking skills, but mostly cute because he takes notes on everything Huohua buys, but the notes are like "bought milk. Give him a cow?!?! Picked flower. Buy him flower garden!?!?"in crayon with little doodle hearts on the edges of the pages. Huohua, of course, sees him as a child who has a puppy crush and doesn't quite have the heart to tell him off, and so is just waiting for said puppy crush to die off on it's own.

And then the massacre happens.

And it doesn't make any sense!

Itachi was such a sweet kid. His favorite moves were all non-lethal take downs, he would always offer Huohua his last dango ball even though dango was his favorite, he would help small kids walk home or hunt down a KPF officer to help them if they were lost. He hated killing, Huohua once saw him cry because he found a very small snake and it didn't have any legs, because it was a snake, but that was apparently a tragedy because it "couldn't run and be free".

So Huohua has a lots of mixed emotions, a lot of suspicions from being an author himself, and a lot of... not quite pining, but he misses Itachi's puppy love gestures, as selfish as that feels. Misses being offered dango he didn't want, misses having a shadow that took meticulous yet adorably stupid notes in him, misses seeing him kneel down next to a child half their size and seeing someone far too young act so old and responsible.

And then.

And then they meet again.

And fuck, Itachi's gotten kinda hot.

Look, the kid was- well, a kid. So all his actions were of an adorable kid who didn't know the person he had a crush on was actually unattainable. But now - because Itachi still has that puppy crush that is starting to look less like a crush and something more like eternally burning love unique to the Uchiha - but now. Now Itachi is a fully grown man and he's kinda fucking hot.

He has wrinkles! Huohua is hundreds of years old, okay? Wrinkles are kinda hot to him. And he's- not nice, currently, what with being a missing-nin, but there are traces of his childhood friend Itachi in there still. He uses those non-lethal take downs he used to practice non-stop, he still tucks his chin into his chest when he tries to meet Huohua's eyes, he still-

He still looks at Huohua like he hung the moon and like Itachi torn it down against his own will.

And then he coughs blood and leaves.

Just leaves. Just like that. Shows off what is clearly supposed to be the illness that kills him, leaving Sasuke unsatisfied in his revenge and setting him down the road of villainy, sends one last look of utter longing at Huohua, and then he just fucking leaves.

Fuck that. Fuck this. Fuck the system, fuck the story, fuck it all.

Huohua is bringing Itachi home and he's going to cure him and make him eat dango and then Itachi is going to offer Huohua the last dango ball and Huohua is going to accept it for the first time because it's no longer stealing candy from a child, it's sharing a treat with someone he-

Someone he-

Someone he loves.

IM YELLING !!! I WAS LITERALLY JUST THINKING AB HOW ITACHI IS TEXTBOOK SHANG QUINGHUA'S TYPE TOO, HOUHUA IS SO FUCKED

You're right ! Houhua reincarnated as Izumi, who was supposed to be Itachi's love interest as a kid (before he went and fucking killed her along with everyone else, rip)

He does NOT know he is supposed to be a love interest (probably for the best tbh, I feel like it'd be easy for him to get weird and ethical about it if he had to think ab the implications of Itachi possibly being "forced" to like him due only to his character role) so any crush directed towards him will be a fucking surprise attack

Poor Houhua <3

I'm crying at tiny baby stalker Itachi, I think they should get to he eachothers first school friends. I think Houhua didn't have many friends as a kid. His natural Houhua-ness was cranked up a bit when he was younger due to just kid hormones and kid-wired mind fucking with his emotions and reactions even more than they might have as an adult. + as adult man trapped in a child's body, he does not how to convincingly act like a normal kid and this lead to him being labeled as a total weirdo by both his peers and some adults

Houhua himself never really cared, so what if he isnt invited to some 6 year olds birthday party! Hes a grown man! But every once in a while he'll get kinda melancholy about it— again, I think he's heavily affected by the physical state his little kid brain is at that age, so his reactions can be a bit,, different than he may have reacted when older

But like. Outcast weirdo Houhua and untouchable, unsociable clan heir Itachi ,, they are friends and no one really talks to either of them

(Once he gets older, I think Houhua gets to work at trying to network w people. He,, doesn't really ever make any friends, but who needs friends? Not him! He has a network of acquaintances who owe him a whole lot of things and favors, and that's better than any friendship, yknow!)

Also they're both the most mature in their age bracket and I think that might help Itachi identify with him a bit more

ANYWAYS

Itachi develops a sudden interest in learning how to make handpulled noodles bc he hears Houhua complaining about craving some,,

Houhua straight up does NOT notice his crush, it just isn't smthn he's capable of registering at the time bc in his eyes Itachi's a kid. Also bc Itachi is his only friend, he's seeing all his little kind acts and going "omg,, my bro is so sweet,, the bonds of friendship are so nice,,"

I think Houhua absoloutley has a thing for just being treated well and having him and his work be visibly valued, I think he gets incredibly touched by acts like that and Itachi treating him in any sort of special way is absoloutley at path directly into his heart.

I also love the idea of him missing Itachi after everything, missing the things he used to do for him, missing feeling valued (although Sasuke tries his best, it's not the same)

He also just... misses his friend.

Meanwhile, Itachi, who went toe to toe with Houhua during the massacre— ultimatley winning but only after a very surprising struggle, deals with not just the guilt of the massacre but the burning question of why and how Houhua had been lying to him about how strong he was. Lying to not just him, but to everyone.

Successfully.

Itachi himself never shares with anyone about the struggle, not to Konoha in his reports about the Akatsuki, nor to "Madara". But he lies awake at night and retraces the steps of their fight and he burns

There's suddenly this really complicated issue in his heart of like— he can no longer turn Houhua into this perfect martyr to feel guilty over like he can with Sasuke. (Though he still of course feels weighed down by the guilt of all he's done) because there's tangible proof that Houhua was not everything Itachi thought. There's layers now, there's a mystery, Itachi is no longer completely in the driving seat of the fucking car crash in progress that is their story like he is with Sasuke's.

Where as in the original canon, Izumi joins the faces of those Itachi killed, as a girl he can claim to have killed gentler than the others, a memory of this perfect, innocent girl Itachi betrayed, another tally on his list of crimes—

Houhua leaves Itachi, bogged down with guilt but also reeling with "what the fuck was that"

(A silent notification appears in Houhua's inbox, congratulating him on changing the narrative in such a creative way)

I think Itachi may have been able to tear himself away from his affection for Houhua (and allow his affection for Sasuke to win out overall) if only Houhua hadn't left him with such a powerful mystery to weigh him down

Good going Houhua!! Ur so good at this narrative thing <3

ANYWAYS THEIR REUNION HAPPENING AND HOUHUA GOING "oh no he's HOT" HAS ME IN STITCHES THO I NEED THAT ACTUALLY. THATS CANON NOW.

Also the detail of Houhua finding his wrinkles attractive is actually really cute, I love that!!

Sasuke will genuinley lose his fucking MIND if he catches even a hint of Houhua being attracted to Itachi, and not in a funny way. Houhua look him in the eyes. Look him in the eyes and tell him you find his big brother who tortured him and murdered their entire family hot. Say it to his face.

No but I think Houhua has major suspicions ab Itachi and at some point he'll have to share them with Sasuke. He literally has no reason not to and comes to be very fond of the kid, so. The only question is when— both when does he tell Sasuke and when does he really gain enough meat to his theory of "something isn't right here" ab the massacre to really start piecing together any sort of coherent thought other than suspicion

I hate u actually bc I'm suddenly SO sold on a Houhua and Itachi romance of some kind, this is so compelling and interesting to me. But also Mobei Jun is wandering around somewhere as Jun and Houhua is going to run into him eventually and have to face his own relationship drama

Itachi pulling his fucking hair out out of confusion when Houhua manifests his mangekyou for this fucking random Kiri missing nin he literally only JUST met

(I don't think Itachi likes being left in the dark when it comes to things he cares ab very much, definite control freak energy. Houhua is driving him insane)

I think that Itachi and Jun may have gotten along actually, but Itachi catches wind of Houhua having a seemingly giant fucking crush on him and is suddenly filled with inexplicable rage, actually

Let them have actually worked together previously or smthn, that'd be funny. They worked together a couple times and had a good rapport— maybe akatsuki actually wants or wanted to recruit him? That could actually be kinda fun

Oh fuck that could also totally parallel svsss bc there's no way that Jun would want to join them, busy with his own shit of wanting to take over Kiri. But just like with Deidara, they can strong arm him into joining under threat of death just like Bingghe did to MBJ !!

I love parallels

[luckiestplant]

when the piece of media gets purposefully sabotaged and/or cancelled for literally no reason and a shitty animated/live action show gets renewed for it’s 10th season

[bunnyb34r]

I finally got my roku to work... through my phone 😅 apparently my backup remote wont work with the one I have so I'll still need to find my stupid real remote... but for now I can watch tv again! Yay

[vaugarde]

nglll i think i may be a bit on and off with the kirby rewatch. sorta did it on a whim when im not really ready to switch hyperfixations and i wanted to watch some other stuff too. like rewatching gf and toh while also moving on to more adult shows

[canyourlawnmowerdothis]

regardless how many times ive posted about it before i Am offended that i have a 50s housewife ass life rn and i cant even do hard drugs about it

[immamapletreekid]

work anxiety starting before work itself hahahahaahahahahahahhhaha

[allylikethecat]

I am both very excited and also very terrified to see The 1975 tomorrow 😳

[michi-chelle]

“but i fear that they already got all the best parts of me” goes so hard