#I guess tldr is that I enjoy some more than others

[olderthannetfic]

Ok. Dumb question incoming, but I'd much have a 'conversation' than try to read fanlore or watch video essays or something because I want to hear individual people's contributions.

Why Star Trek?

Don't get me wrong - I like the franchise! I'm not super duper familiar with it, but I do enjoy the bits and pieces that I do know. But I am wondering why that in particular is hailed as the grandmother of all fandoms? Obviously people were fannish before Trek, but I don't think anyone can deny the impact that OG Trekkies had on fic, zines, and eventually on the internet.

I know that it's always been popular and well-liked, but it's not as if there was NO SUCH THING as popular culture/fan culture before that (I mean, come on, the term "parasocial" predates the first Star Trek episode by 10 years!) . Was it just a perfect mix of timing + popularity + etc? Is there something in particular about ST that "hit different" than other series at the time? Or is the fandom really really just that mighty and it's almost "luck" in a way? I guess I'm wondering what particular dominoes cascaded in a line in order for Star Trek to have the impact on fandom that it does today.

or am I wrong? were there just-as-big fandoms before and I simply overhype Trekkie power in my head / happen to see more talk of that than I do of other fandoms? It could definitely be a social circle bias thing.

Ugh. Asking OTNF why Star Trek is so important to fandom history feels very much like asking a Russian History major why War & Peace is so important to literature - hence why I warned you that it'd be a dumb question! But I am just so damn curious what sort of crack was in early ST fandom that made it SO widespread and SO strong.

Like, I guess the TLDR is: what was particularly 'different' about Star Trek, either as a fandom or as a franchise or both, that made it Theeeeee OG fandom, rather than something, like, i dunno, LOTR or the earliest versions of Marvel/DC comics or General Hospital or something else like that?

--

I await the hordes of angry Man from U.N.C.L.E. fans eager to prove that they were first.

And, no, it wasn't that popular. Hence the aggressive Save Our Show campaign and explosion of fan culture when it ended after three seasons.

Part of the answer to your question is that there were like three things on TV at the time. What big fandoms? 'Parasocial' was about non-subculture people feeling warmly towards news anchors or hosts of variety shows or something, wasn't it?

LOTR got rediscovered in the 60s or 70s from what I hear, but science fiction and fantasy books were for fringe weirdoes. SFF was not mainstream for the most part. There are a bunch of History of Book SF Fandom things on Youtube, and you should consult them on the complex role of LOTR in that space. LOTR wasn't a mainstream thing until there were live action movies a billion years later.

The key about Star Trek is that it was a hit with the pre-existing book SF crowd. They were an organized subculture. Some of their favorite writers wrote episodes. Other shit on TV was for people who did not form subcultures in that way. Other shit for SF fans had an audience 1/10,00th the size.

MFU was insanely popular. Illya Kuryakin was the heartthrob of a certain era of girl and inspired many a Russian major. (Seriously, there are soooo many Russia-boos of a certain age who probably still have a poster of him somewhere.) The actor set a record for fanmail. The show may have more influence on fandom history than we think now, but it also didn't rerun the way Trek did, at least in some eras, and it didn't have sequel series in a franchise. I'm always finding 2015 movie fans shocked that there's a still extant and semi-active fandom—or even shocked that the movie is based on something.

Starsky & Hutch was also hugely important and is the moment slash fandom and "Media Fandom" really split from book SF fandom. As Trek fans moved on to buddy cops, they were into a completely mainstream show but in a non-mainstream way. Trek was an awkward bedfellow at SF cons, but S&H just didn't fit at all.

Of course, while Trek is the grandma of AO3 type fandom, don't forget that a shitton of modern fans who are doing "research" just look at the same few sources. Enterprising Women is great and all, but even other fans of the same stuff are like "Oh, that was just X's friends. Where's [thing] and [thing] and [thing]?" Ditto Textual Poachers and the other scant early sources that people think have academic weight.

While Trek would still be central, the picture of what was going on in the late 60s-early 80s would look a bit different if you just found a bunch of 70-something nerds and asked them than if you regurgitate other people's research, you know?

If you want an idea of what else was going on in SF fandom back in the day, check out Galactic Journey, where they roleplay that it's 55 years ago and review SF things "as they come out".

If you want to understand MFU, here's a vid of Illya:

--

What say you, readers?

What have acafandom and fandom history and meta left out?

[giveafike]

Hi can you write Ben Shelton x fem reader where reader is also a pro player and her and Ben are like close friends and team up to play mixed doubles in like the us open and it's kinda like friends to lovers and they being all flirty on court and eventually admit feelings to each other?

TLDR: STORY! Tennisplayer!fem reader x Ben Shelton friends to lovers. Sort of took them flirty on and off court. Tried to build it up. Mention of Bryan Shelton and Tommy Paul cameo, thanks for stopping by, kings.

Word count + info: 17.6k! SUPER LONG STORYTIME w dialogue! (over an hour's worth of reading, ouu you're well fed tonight)

Character Inspo: Just a sweet girl, like "girl-next-door" girl. Listened to "After the First Kiss" - Faye Webster writing this (cried on first listen, enjoy the link), if that helps you envision sweet, cute, pure vibes. No specifications are mentioned (except a general "shorter" height than Ben).

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW - no warnings - slight mention of cheating and gaslighting.

Azzie Notes ✚: Hi my sweet munchkins! I'm so sorry anon, this took so long to come out but life got busy + then tumblr had this unavailable for me when I queued to post which tbh was a miracle bc I was rlly unsure while writing this, and I took my own time to reread and rework it, but idk guess I have writer's block, sorta? It doesn't feel like my best work... be brutally honest w me in ur feedback when u finish reading.

And then also there's a part that was just v vulnerable for me to write, but I couldn't really imagine the scene playing out any differently. Essentially, Y/N's dialogue about her ex - that's my lived experience...erm, so I was just tinkering of ways to rewrite it but I just couldn't think of anything else to fill it with.

Anywho, boy do I have a lotta requests coming up! Be patients w me pls! Also anon, "d" you are a genius, I'm so excited to write ur prompt hehehehe, but sorry if it takes some time :(. I got a Holiday surprise coming up, I'll lyk by the end of the month what that is, but OOOH, SFW Shelton nation, prepare urselves! How are we doing otherwise? Let me know! Are you taking good care of your health in these cold months + wrapping up? Make sure to get your vitamins in! Also, is my tumblr ugly? Should I make a colour theme and redo my masterlist properly? Help?

————————————————————————

Beyond the Baseline - B.T.S

The relationship between you and Ben Shelton was like watching day and night play tennis. Seriously, how could you be friends? What did you even have in common? What would you even talk about?

You, polished, textbook perfect, poised. A steady player who never lets emotions show on the court. Confident but never loud about it. After a win, you’d offer a graceful nod to the crowd, maybe a modest fist pump, but never more. Your game was a masterclass in precision in every shot calculated, every movement on and off court methodical. Fans admired how you dismantled opponents with strategy and patience, and your flawless form made it look effortless. Off the court, you were polite and kindred, smiling, making everyone feel at ease without even trying.

You were the embodiment of calm, pristine tennis. If anyone wanted an example of “playing by the book,” they’d point to you.

And then there was Ben Shelton.

Ben, who was your complete opposite. Loud, unpredictable, made waves and was unapologetic, and yet, utterly captivating. His game thrived on power and chaos, booming serves, fast sprinting bursts across the court, and reckless dives to the net, every point celebrated with fist pumps and wild energy. He lived for those moments that made crowds roar, he basked and riled the stands. When you calmly shake hands with your opponents, Ben chats effortlessly at the net, teasing, joking, and slapping his opponent’s back with that infectious grin. Impossible to dislike, even when he was cocky. Off the court, he was just as loud, just as alive when socialising. If you were a quiet, steady river with your course set, Ben was a wildfire, impossible to contain or predict.

Yet, somehow, despite your differences, you clicked.

It all started that first year on tour at a crossover event where the tours shared a venue. After a long day of matches, you found yourself in the players' lounge, neatly perched in a plush chair, legs crossed, posture upright and as perfect as ever. You still had that composed, in-control air about you, ready to handle anything gracefully.

Then, in strolled Ben Shelton.

He collapsed into the chair across from you, manspreading like it was his personal throne, slouching so far down it was a wonder he didn’t slide onto the floor.

He glanced at you with a lazy grin, his curls messy and unruly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Y'always sit like you’re posing for the cover of Tennis Monthly?” he asked, amusement laced with that accent of his, no intention of introductions or small talk.

You blinked, taken aback for a few seconds. “I-...what?”

“Yeah,” he continued, sitting up a bit as he waved a hand at your upright posture. “We’re off the court. Y'know, you can relax, right?”

You stared, completely thrown off by his audacity. Who starts a conversation like that? And how do you even reply to that? You didn’t even know him well, yet here he was already challenging you. Your lips broke into an awkward, tight line as your mouth was still agape, trying to find words to respond - not that you needed to, it seemed like Ben had more to tease you about, clearly enjoying your confusion with a wider, gummy smile.

“Don’t tell me you play tennis like this too, all tight 'n rigid. That's so boring.”

It took a moment, but when you finally brought your eyes up to his, you burst out laughing. His nerve! “You did not just say that,” you managed between giggles, shaking your head in disbelief. “My tennis form? Really? You want to talk about form and play?”

He shrugged, not even a little apologetic, enjoying the riffing as his feet rested against the coffee table filling the gap between you two. “Just sayin' loosen up. This isn’t a press conference. I mean, d'you even know how to slouch?”

You shot him a playful, mock-serious look, tucking a strand behind your ear as you leaned forward, your arms resting on your folded legs. “I can slouch.”

His eyebrows shot up in mock surprise, folding his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes at him in a challenge. Slowly, way more dramatically than necessary, you leaned back in your chair, gently scooting down an inch on the chair, still keeping your legs crossed but allowing just enough of a slouch to break your normally perfect posture. You looked more uncomfortable than anything, your back now curved, while every other inch of your body remained proper.

Ben snorted, shaking his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Wowwww,” he said, barely holding back a laugh. “Look at you. A real rebel huh?”

You rolled your eyes, bringing yourself back up to sit properly, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m not trying to impress you, you know.”

“Oh?” he cocked his head to the side like a puppy, his grin turning into something softer. “Too late. You already have.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words catching you completely off guard. There was something about the way he said it, teasing, but with an undertone that made butterflies dance in your stomach and your skin buzz. You found yourself opening your mouth to respond, but just like the other attempts, nothing came out. You just stared at him, feeling completely disarmed by his effortless charm. He didn’t push, just grinned and waited, like he was used to leaving people speechless.

How much confidence could a guy have, and how could he play it off so casually that you don't even mind it?

And in that moment, there was no awkward silence, no need for formalities. Just easy, unexpected banter that flowed naturally and lingered in your mind for longer than you'd like to admit. It wasn’t what you’d expected from someone like Ben, but somehow, it felt right. He opened a side of you within a few conversations, a side that took years of coaxing from some of your closest friends. You couldn't even explain it, for everything you both were and were not, somehow ying and yang, a mountain and a streaming river, you were opposites and yet fit together like a landscape. He’d broken through your perfectly composed exterior, making you laugh and talk without even trying, and for some reason, you didn’t mind at all.

And now here you are, present day, strolling through an Australian mall at midday, looking the ever-polar opposites.

You strode in your knitted cardigan top and straight-leg pants while Ben towered over in a casual t-shirt and his signature stupidly short black shorts. Your arm was casually linked with Ben’s, your steps in sync like this was second nature. It wasn’t unusual for you two to walk like this; in fact, it would be strange if you didn’t. Over time as you both got to know each other, it had started as a joke but became a habit, something along the lines of Ben not wanting you to get "swept away by the crowds". You shared this easy closeness, the kind that people would easily mistake for a couple, but it was just the way you were.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourselves.

“Hey,” Ben’s voice interrupted your thoughts. You blinked, realising he was watching you, that knowing grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. His finger was pointing at a poster right beside a warm small shop.

“Didn’t you mention that necklace before on call a while ago? Wanna go in and have a look?”

You shook your head, brushing it off. “Oh, no, I was just-”

Before you could finish, he was already steering you toward the small store, his hand warm on your shoulder. “C’mon, just looking, right? Besides, you need to get somethin' while we're here. Not like you can't afford it.” He flashed you a wink that made your stomach flip.

The two of you stepped into the warm-lit shop, drawing a few amused glances from the few other customers and the shop assistant. It only really occurred just odd you two looked, Ben in his usual casual attire, slouched with his hands in his pockets, striding while examining the glass displays and you, neat and polished, hands folded and shy.

Ben leaned close, glancing over the cases as if he actually knew what he was looking at. “So you’re gonna match with me and get one of those silver chains, right?” He tugged at his thick metal chain with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at you.

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “Yeah, Ben, because that would look so ‘me,’ right?”

He snorted. “What, scared of a little edge? Imagine the next headline: ‘Good Girl Gone Bad’ ”

“Or,” you retorted, arching a brow, “it could just read ‘WTA Pro Loses It With a Clear Cry for Help.’”

He chuckled, his laugh low and genuinely amused. But then his expression softened as he caught sight of the delicate rose-gold necklace you’d been admiring. “Alright, alright. Let’s see the one you’re actually into.”

You glanced at him, surprised he remembered the specific piece. And the next thing you knew, he had the case brought out by the sales assistant. The delicate rose gold chain necklace with its beautifully intricate pendant sat in front of you. It wasn't long before the cool metal met your fingers as you gently hauled it out from its bed and into your hands, your breath hitching as you studied it dozens of times, trying to engrave it into your memory. Before you could think twice, you broke your trance and handed it to him.

“Help me put it on?”

Ben’s brows shot up, but he didn’t hesitate. “Turning this into a whole trust exercise, huh?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, turning around and sweeping your hair aside.

“Turn around,” he said, his voice quiet with a flutter of nervousness.

Obediently, you turned, holding your hair up and out of the way, feeling his hands slip around to clasp the necklace at the back of your neck. His fingers brushed your skin, surprisingly gently, and suddenly it was hard to focus on anything else but the feel of his hands there. His fingers trembled ever so slightly, his large digits fiddling with the small dainty clasp. You couldn't help but feel hyper-aware of his touch as you let out a small gasp, only for you to hear; the way he just barely grazed your neck for fleeting milliseconds, how his breath was ghosting over your ear in steady, focused breaths, how his tongue stuck out ever so slightly as he focused, his eyes honed in on getting this one thing right just for you - it was far too much.

You swallowed, realising this was the first time he’d ever been this close in this way, this… tender. A part of you wanted to step forward, break the tension, take the necklace and put it on yourself, the burning, buzzing sensation being oh so overwhelming to the point where it felt you might evaporate on this spot, right here right now. But realistically even if you really wanted to, you couldn't force or make yourself move, the feeling was like a drug, coursing through you and this was your euphoria, your high, something you hadn't felt in a long time, or maybe ever and you had no intention of cutting it short.

You gently bring your gaze up from your shoes, to the mirror and stare at him, running your eyes over his face. It's just a necklace, he's just helping you, c'mon get it together!

“There,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you felt the clasp fall onto your skin. But he didn’t step back right away. His fingers trailed down, skimming the nape of your neck, and for a second you thought - no, you knew - he was about to say something else, he took a sharp intake but then hesitated and remained in his silence. You look up in the mirror, seeing him still staring at your neck, and your hair, slowly meeting your eyes in the mirror before he realises he's been caught. He stepped back, his familiar grin slipping back into place, and the moment passed like a puff of smoke.

“How does it look?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, breaking free from the dizzy haze you've created in your head.

“Looks good,” he said lightly, and you hated the way your heart twisted at the easy casualness of his tone. He flashed you that infuriating smile, the one that made you both want to slap him and pull him closer at the same time.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice tight, almost irritated that you felt this intense pull that didn't seem to affect him nearly as much as it affected you. “Thanks.”

Your hand delicately took the pendant between your fingers, toying with it as you both stared at each other in the mirror entranced for a few moments, something shifting. You turned back to the display, focusing hard on the jewellery cases even though you could still feel the phantom warmth of his hands on your skin. You forced yourself to breathe evenly, to ignore the way your heart was racing, to pretend like everything was fine.

But as you looked at your reflection in the store’s mirror, the delicate gold resting against your collarbone, you couldn’t help but wonder if he knew, if he could feel it, too. The slow, insidious shift between you, the way everything had started to mean something when it was supposed to mean nothing at all. It wasn't the first time that Ben had done or said something that froze you, but it seems as though every encounter grows in its intensity, and worse, builds more confusion and haze inside of you.

“Guess that means you’re getting it, right?”

You gave him a shy smile breaking from your thoughts, turning around on your heel, still feeling the heat lingering on your neck. “I… think I might.”

As you admired the necklace in your hands, Ben flashed you a grin and excused himself, slipping off towards the main counter. You assumed he was just idly browsing or looking for something to keep him occupied while you made your decision. But when you turned to check on him, you saw him whispering something to the cashier, glancing over at you with a suspiciously wide grin.

You squinted, realising too late what he was up to. Just as you started toward him, the assistant who’d been helping you gently tapped your shoulder.

“Miss?” she said, her voice sweet but carefully practised. “We actually just got a similar collection of rose-gold necklaces in. You might want to take a look.”

You shot her a polite smile, still watching Ben out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, I think I’ve found the one-”

But Ben was already flashing his card to the cashier, sending you a playful wink and sticking his tongue out between his smile, before your assistant intercepted you again with a dazzling necklace display. By the time you returned to the counter, Ben was leaning casually, arms crossed, the structured paper bag already in his hand.

“Ben!” you hissed, reaching for it.

He laughed, holding it just out of your reach as he leaned in, his grin bordering on smug. “You don’t remember mentionin’ it twice, right?” he drawled, dripping with his usual playful tone, the same one that had you engaged from the day you first met. “Couldn’t risk lettin’ ya walk away from somethin’ you actually like.”

You smacked his arm lightly, only making him laugh more as he ducked away, looping his arm casually around your waist to draw you into a side hug. The warmth of his touch lingered, his hand resting comfortably at your hip. It was the sort of touch that should’ve felt natural by now, but somehow, it left you flustered. He was supposed to be the loud, obnoxious friend who made everyone laugh. So why did it feel like every touch, every sideways glance in your direction, especially today, held a weight that left you breathless? You hated that it was him, the one person you thought you’d never lose your cool around, who could make your composure slip so effortlessly.

“Don’t go gettin’ all mad,” he said, that easy grin still in place, his accent softening in a way that had your stomach fluttering. “It’s just a little token of your winnin's.”

You mumbled something about unfair tactics, even as your hand settled into his. He finally laughed, still holding your bag and chuckling as he looked around the mall. His gaze landed on a clothing shop just ahead, and his face lit up.

“Alright, you got your shiny new necklace. Now you’re helpin’ me pick out a hoodie,” he said, giving you a grin that could only be described as downright cocky. “Let’s see if I can look half as put together as you.”

“Fine,” you replied, barely suppressing a smile, “but don't expect me to return the payment favour, that's on you.”

Ben just laughed, letting you walk in first before he strolled in behind you. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Once inside, Ben beelined for the hoodies, pulling out everything he could get his hands on without checking the tags or sizes. He held up a dark blue one with a shrug, grinning as he tossed it in your direction. “This one’s a classic, right? Nice and oversized?”

“Ben,” you said, giving him an exasperated look as you held the fabric up, it's nowhere near his size, way too small. “This wouldn’t even fit you like a sleeve. This would be a corset for you. Besides, since when do you need an oversized anything?”

He chuckled, looking down at his broad shoulders and long frame. “Point taken. Let’s see, you’re gonna have to help me find somethin’… refined. Like me.”

You rolled your eyes, but reached for a khaki cream-coloured hoodie, holding it up in front of him. “This one’s got ‘actually dressed himself’ written all over it.”

Ben took it from you and pulled it over his head without bothering to even look for the changing rooms, letting it settle over his broad shoulders and across his arms, the fabric fitting perfectly. He adjusted the sleeves, smoothing out a crease as he caught your eye with a playful smirk.

“So, how do I look? All cleaned up, or just half?”

You stepped closer, straightening the hood and smoothing the fabric across his chest and shoulders. “Not bad,” you said, nodding approvingly. “Maybe the best-dressed you’ve ever been for casual attire.”

Ben cleared his throat, a small blush creeping up his neck before he made a funny face at you and pushed your face away with his palm, making you laugh. You reached up and tugged the hood down over his face in response. “Stop it! Do you ever act normal?”

From underneath the hood, his face was hidden but the smile in his tone gave him away. “Normal? C’mon, that doesn’t sound like me at all.”

He yanked the hood off, reaching for another hoodie, examining a grey one this time. He pulled the cream hoodie up over his head, and just as he tugged it up, you realised his T-shirt was trying to come with it. Without thinking, you reached over and tugged his shirt back down, cheeks warming as he slipped into the hoodie with a cheeky grin.

“Good save,” he said, finally adjusting the fit with a little salute. “Now I really gotta make you my official stylist.”

“Oh, if it means I get to stop you from embarrassing yourself in public, I’ll do it,” you replied with a grin.

Ben just rolled his eyes sassily as he watched you inspect the look as he pulled the grey one on. “Don’t go givin’ me too many compliments now. Might go straight to my head.”

You laughed, giving his chest a final pat. “I’d say we’ve got it just right.”

After a long day of shopping and conversing together, the last thing you needed was more conversation, you couldn't wait to take yourself to your hotel room and sink in everything that had happened and everything that had been felt. As you took your small bags from Ben's hands you stood in the elevator, engrossed in the gossip Ben was subjecting you to, something to do with car dealers. Somewhere along the way, Ben had even pressed the button to your floor himself.

By the time you unlocked your door, it was almost automatic; you turned to face him, assuming he’d say goodbye and let you get some rest. But he strolled right in, still mid-sentence, as if he had every right to be there. You stood in the doorframe, breaking your smile and shaking your head, mouth agape as you realised what just happened.

“Ben... did you just follow me into my hotel room?” you asked, crossing your arms as you watched him plop down on your bed like he owned the place.

“Pfft,” he scoffed, “don’t flatter yourself. You ain’t got nothin’ in here worth followin’ you for - ‘cept maybe more of that wild fashion sense you got.” He shot you a teasing grin, his eyes flicking over to the small shopping bags you’d set down on the dresser.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you’re a fashion critic too? I didn’t hear you complaining when I helped you pick out those hoodies.”

He laughed, that easy, familiar sound filling the room, and leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. But I still think you coulda gone a little crazier. All that walking around and y' bought tiny, little things like that necklace. Real tame, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to smile. “It’s called being tasteful, Ben. Not everyone can rock 'big and bold' like you.”

He gave you a mock-offended look, his drawl growing thicker. “Well, we can’t all be boring, now can we, darlin'?”

You felt a flicker of something under his words - the teasing words hung in the air longer than you expected, and you felt a jolt of something, nothing you could name, but enough to make you look away first, pretending to busy yourself with the bags again as you cleared your throat.

“Right,” you said, voice light, “because you’re the definition of exciting. The guy who almost bought a novelty koala mug for fifty bucks.”

“Hey, c'mon now, that mug was a steal,” he shot back, eyes glinting with amusement. “And besides, who’s gonna stop me? You?”

You giggled softly, flopping down beside him on your stomach, your elbow brushing the bedspread as you kept a careful inch of space between you. The gap between you felt electric, buzzing with that familiar charge you both pretended not to notice. “I already did, remember? I’ve saved you so many times from a lifetime of tacky souvenirs. You’d be drowning in cheap tourist mugs if it weren’t for me.”

Ben’s face softened, his smirk fading into something almost thoughtful as he rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand. “Guess I owe you, then,” he said quietly, his tone lower, like he was sharing a secret.

The room seemed to hold its breath, and you swore the sunlight dimmed just a little, softening the angles of his face. For a heartbeat, you thought he was going to say something more, something that would change everything between you. You caught the scent of his cologne, warm and fresh with a hint of spice, and your eyes flickered down to his lips, wondering if he’d noticed the way you’d frozen like a deer in headlights, caught between teasing and leaning in, unsure if you were daring him or daring yourself.

His gaze dropped, almost imperceptibly, to where your fingers played with the loose thread on the edge of the bedspread, and it was like he saw right through you. The air crackled, the tension stretching out like a taut string, ready to snap making you feel all sorts of woozy. You knew if you moved, if you even breathed too deeply, it would shatter whatever fragile moment this was. He was watching you so closely, noticing everything, the angle of your face, the way your hair fell, the way your breath caught just a little too fast, the tiny smile you couldn’t quite hide.

And then he grinned as he caught your smile; a lazy, crooked grin that made your heart skip. The vulnerability in his eyes flickered and was gone, hidden behind that familiar playful charm. It was safer that way, easier to laugh it off than to admit there might be something real between you.

You nudged him gently with your shoulder, letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, aching from the sincere moment but almost glad it passed. Almost.

“You definitely do,” you said, your voice deliberately light.

Ben chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound that made you feel both safe and entirely off-balance. “Deal, you got it. How about some snacks? But, if I’m buyin’, you can’t go pullin’ that health-nut stuff on me. It’s gotta be a proper snack run, none of your boring, practical choices.”

“Oh, I’m so there,” you replied, half laughing, half trying to mask the flush that was still heating your cheeks. “Just don’t get all whiny if I veto your terrible taste.”

He sat up, giving you a mockingly serious look, his expression exaggeratedly grave. “Whiny? I don’t whine. I’m just... persuasive.”

“Sure you are,” you teased, feeling the tension still lingering about in the air.

You reached out to push his shoulder playfully, but he was faster. His hand caught yours, fingers curling around yours in a way that sent a spark racing up your arm. For a second, everything went still, the noise from the street outside faded, and the weight of the bed shifted beneath you, but all you could feel was the heat of his palm against yours.

It was Ben who let go first, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mischievous spark. “9, don’t be late,” he said, pushing himself off the bed with a careless grin.

You watched him head for the door, your pulse still racing in your chest. “I’m never late,” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected despite the way your voice wavered, light and teasing.

He paused in the doorway, throwing a look over his shoulder, his eyes softer than usual, almost expectant. “We’ll see about that,” he said with a wink before disappearing into the hallway, leaving you staring at the closed door, still lying on the bed, with a strange, buzzing feeling beneath your skin. You couldn't help but feel the heat rise to your face, your hand on fire from the interaction as you stared around, dumbfounded from the passing moments.

Later that night, you headed to the hotel lobby, the low hum of late-night travellers and the clinking of glass doors filling the space. You spotted Ben before he saw you, leaning casually against a column in a purple hoodie, scrolling through his phone with a barely-there smile tugging at his lips.

He looked up the second the elevator doors opened, and whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t you in a simple top with the sleeves pushed up and cargo pants, like you were trying too hard to look like you weren’t trying at all.

His eyebrows lifted, a grin spreading slow and wide. “That’s what you’re wearin’?” he said, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

You scoffed, furrowing your brows, shoving your hands in your pockets before muttering, “Yeah... what’s wrong with it?”

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the way they softened, something playful and gentle mingling with the mischief. Without saying a word, he dug into his bag and pulled out a well-worn hoodie, its cuffs fraying slightly and the colour slightly faded from too many washes. “Here,” he said, thrusting it at you. “You’re not goin’ anywhere with me like that.”

You gave him a long, unamused stare. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he shot back, voice dropping lower, teasing. “Don’t make me beg.”

You snatched the hoodie from him with a huff, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the fabric as you slipped it over your head. It was massive, swallowing you whole, the sleeves dangling well past your hands. You tugged at the cuffs, rolling them up clumsily and folding the bottom into your waistband so it didn't completely swallow you up as Ben watched with a satisfied smirk.

“Better,” he declared, like he’d personally fixed a crisis.

“Happy now?” you asked, your voice sharper than you’d intended, but you couldn’t help the way your heart picked up speed when he looked at you like that like you were more than just some friend he dragged along on a whim.

He just grinned and nodded. “Let’s go.”

The grocery store was nearly empty, the white-lit aisles stretching out like pathways to nowhere. The two of you wandered slowly at first, examining small differences side by side, until you found yourselves in the snack aisle, surrounded by walls of bright, neon packaging. Ben was in his element, zeroing in on the loudest, most ridiculous options like a kid in a candy store.

He plucked a bag of neon-orange chips from the shelf, shaking it lightly. “Alright,” he said, his tone suddenly all business, “What’s your stance on cheese puffs?”

You glanced at the bag and back at him, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not food, that’s...radioactive material. Nothing should be that orange.”

He gasped mouth agape before forming a pout, side-eyeing you. “Loud and wrong, but okay...”

You snatched the bag from his hand, tossing it into the cart anyway. “Fine. But we’re getting something that won’t kill us on the spot too.”

“Oh, here we go,” he groaned, watching as you added a box of granola bars to the mix with a self-satisfied smile. He shook his head, grabbing the cart handle and steering it down the aisle with a flourish.

“You’re no fun.”

“Somebody has to be the adult,” you said lightly, your shoulder brushing his as you walked.

The cart squeaked slightly as you rounded the corner, stopping to examine a box and before you knew it, Ben had snuck up behind you, his hands on your waist, lifting you off the floor in one swift movement. You barely had time to react before he dropped you, albeit with a slightly abrupt drop, laughing into the cart like it was the most natural thing in the world. You gasped, grabbing at the edges of the cart to steady yourself as he pushed forward, his laughter echoing off the empty shelves.

“Ben, what are you doing?” you demanded, half-exasperated, half-laughing as the cart picked up speed.

“Shoppin’!” he said nonchalantly, his voice lilting with barely suppressed giggles. “What’s it look like?”

You tried to glare at him, but the sound of his laughter, the way he moved so easily beside you, pulling you into his orbit, made it impossible to be mad. He flipped the hood over your face without warning, almost like payback from your antics earlier and you yelped, fumbling to throw it off your face as he made a dramatic show of spinning the cart around in circles in a wide arc, as if he were doing doughnuts in his car, laughing as you swayed and clung to the sides.

“Ben, you’re insane!” you shouted, but it came out more like a giggle, and you knew he’d hear it for what it was; a thrill you couldn’t quite hide.

“Yeah, but you love it!” he shot back, slowing the cart and landing it to face him, just enough to meet your eyes, the world narrowing down to the space between you. His smile was softer now, more intimate like he’d forgotten you were in a brightly lit grocery store at all.

For a second, you forgot too. Forgot about the shelves stacked high with candy and cereal, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as your world came back from spinning and went straight into those puppy-dog brown eyes that always invited you so warmly. It was just him, and the warmth in him, the way he was looking at you like he could see straight through all the walls you’d built up.

Then he blinked, breaking the moment, and you cleared your throat, holding your sides tighter like it was armour. “C’mon,” you said, your voice a little too casual. “We still need to get some popcorn.”

His smirk returned a flash of teeth and mischief. “Only if I get to pick.”

“Fine,” you said, hopping out of the cart in a not-so-gracious way, almost tripping and falling over before you found your feet, while he squeezed his eyes shut and stifled a laugh. You ignored him and nudged him aside as you led the way, leaving him and the cart behind. “We’re not getting any of that sugar-loaded nonsense.”

“Deal,” he said easily, falling back into step beside you, close enough that his arm brushed yours with every step as he leaned onto the shopping cart's handle. It was comfortable, this back-and-forth, like a dance you’d both practised without realising.

The rest of the trip was a blur of bright colours and easy laughter, you vetoing his most ridiculous choices and him sneaking them into the cart when he thought you weren’t looking. There was something electric in the air, a charge that made you feel light and breathless. Every time your eyes met, it was like the world shrunk just a little more, leaving just the two of you standing there, suspended in a moment that neither of you wanted to end.

By the time you left, the night air was cool and crisp, and the city lights blurred into a haze of gold and blue. You carried your small, modest box of granola bars easily while Ben lugged a full backpack and a crinkling, overstuffed plastic bag of brightly coloured chaos, bumping your shoulder with his as you walked.

“Y’know,” he began, adding a lazy warmth to the night air, “if you think for one second that’s the last time I’m gonna put you in a cart, you’re wrong.”

You huffed out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Oh yeah? You're planning on carrying me around as part of your personal grocery haul from now on?”

He shot you a playful grin, his smile wide and easy. “Might just make it a habit. You fit in there pretty nice.”

Rolling your eyes, you bumped his arm with yours, but the warmth lingered longer than you expected. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

“Hey, I don't hear nobody complainin’ ‘bout bein’ chauffeured around,” he shot back, his eyes glimmering in the low streetlights. “And don’t pretend you didn’t love it. Saw you smilin’ the whole way.”

You tried to hide your grin, biting down on your lip. “I was not smiling.”

“Sure you weren’t,” he said, his voice dipping into a teasing drawl, and you knew he saw right through you. He always did, with that irritating, endearing way of his.

He kept walking, and you fell into an easy stride beside him, the silence that stretched out feeling warm, and comfortable, the kind that made you feel like you didn’t need to fill it with words.

As you cross the street, your fingers accidentally brush his for a split second, and you both tense up, the smallest contact sparking between you like static. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he shot you a quick, almost shy smile before looking up at the half-lit sky.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said suddenly as if the thought had just hit him. “There’s this café I saw online, right? Said they’ve got the best breakfast sandwiches in Australia. And it's like, a 15-minute walk from the hotel.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah? And what, you’re planning to drag me out of bed before dawn just to try a sandwich?”

“Exactly! You read my mind!” he yelped excitedly without missing a beat, clearly not hearing your sarcasm. “We’ll beat the crowd! No lines, best seat in the house. Plus,” he added with a wink, “you look like you could use a proper breakfast after that grocery store workout.”

You gave him a sceptical look, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Fine. But if it’s some overhyped, greasy thing, you owe me.”

“I’ll take that bet,” he said, flashing that confident grin that made it impossible to say no. The walk back to the hotel was quieter, the playful back-and-forth giving way to a comfortable, unspoken understanding that neither of you wanted to break. After many attempts at trying to close the door on Ben only to be interrupted by "Wait, one last thing before I go"'s and many, many awful jokes, you finally found yourself drained as you collapsed onto your bed. You quickly set a reminder for his ridiculous plan, and a dreadful 5am alarm was made, leaving you with not nearly enough time to rest after the day's antics.

The alarm dragged you out of a deep sleep way too soon, feeling like you had just fallen into slumber. You groaned, fumbling to silence it, barely managing to swing your legs over the side of the bed before realising you were still wrapped in Ben’s hoodie, the fabric heavy and warm, smelling of cologne and well, him. Blinking blearily, you forced yourself to move, your mind foggy with sleep, the hotel room still wrapped in low shadow. The chill of the early hour made you pull the hoodie tighter around yourself, the soft material a comfort against the cold.

When you finally stumbled downstairs to the lobby, he was already there, leaning casually against the doorframe, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other holding a steaming ceramic cup of coffee. He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, and you noticed the way his eyes went wide for a second before he quickly masked it with a crooked smile. His hair was messy, and he looked like he hadn’t been awake for long, but the sight of him made your chest feel oddly light. You were still half-asleep, your hair barely brushed, eyes slightly open, and wearing his hoodie like it was a shield against the early morning chill.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he said, his voice rough and deep with sleep, the sound of it washing over you like a warm wave. There was a hitch in his tone, something unsteady and unguarded, and it made your stomach flutter in a way you couldn’t quite explain. "You look... cozy."

You tried to rub the sleep from your eyes, barely registering his words. “What?” you mumbled, blinking up at him.

The lights in the lobby were harsh, making you squint, and you fumbled with the hood, pushing it back slightly. Your fingers felt clumsy, too heavy, and you knew you looked a mess. No makeup, hair lazily brushed, the sleeves of his hoodie falling over your hands like a second blanket.

His gaze lingered, and he cleared his throat, glancing away quickly like he’d seen something he shouldn’t. “I, uh... you’re wearin’ my hoodie,” he said, a slow smile tugging at his lips despite the awkwardness in his voice.

“Didn’t think you’d be, y’know, sleepin’ in it.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you shrugged, still too groggy to care much. “It’s comfortable,” you muttered, your voice muffled with sleep. “I just… forgot to take it off.”

He was quiet for a beat too long like he was turning your words over in his mind, and you noticed the way he was looking at you, really looking, like he was seeing something he hadn’t expected. You wanted to say something, to break the strange heaviness of the moment, but your brain felt slow and thick with exhaustion, and all you could do was yawn and shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer, a bit hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should keep pushing. His eyes were bright despite the early hour, lingering on the way his hoodie hung loose on your frame, the oversized fabric almost swallowing you. “Well, it... looks good on you. Real good.”

You ducked your head, a sleepy laugh escaping your lips, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped at his words. “I’m sure it does, c'mon let's get going if we want to beat the queue or whatever,” you teased, though there was no bite behind it. You didn’t have the energy for anything but honesty, and you were still caught up in the warmth of his hoodie, the way it felt like a shield against the morning chill.

His grin softened, and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking suddenly self-conscious. “Nah, I mean it,” he said, his drawl slow and unsteady. “Didn’t know you’d make my old thing look that good.”

You shrugged again, feeling your face flush as you ducked your chin deeper into the collar of the hoodie. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes still half-closed, struggling to focus in the dim lighting.

“Yeah, you should,” he said, the words coming out a little too fast like he couldn’t quite control the way they slipped out. He was still watching you, his gaze almost tender, his usual confidence faltering in the face of your sleepy vulnerability.

You felt an odd sensation bloom in your chest. Something soft and unsteady, and you weren’t sure if it was the early hour, his deep, sleep-rough voice, or the way he couldn’t seem to look away from you. You fumbled to roll up the too-long sleeves, your fingers barely managing to fold the fabric back, and Ben’s gaze followed the movement, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite name.

He hesitated, then stepped closer, his movements careful and unhurried, like he was testing the boundaries of whatever this was between you. He lifted his coffee cup, its warmth radiating outwards as he held it just inches from your face. “Here,” he offered his voice still that deep morning rumble that made your stomach twist. “You look like you could use this more than I do.”

Ben handed you the mug, and as you took a sip, your fingers barely brushed his, such a small, fleeting touch that it might as well have been an accident. But the warmth of it lingered, and Ben’s eyes, still sleepy but more awake than yours, didn’t stray from your face. You were too groggy to notice as you took a deep gulp of the warm coffee. It was rich and comforting, exactly what you needed to get moving, and you barely caught the way Ben's gaze softened as you closed your eyes and sighed contentedly.

You held the mug back out to him, half-smiling as you blinked against the morning light spilling through the windows. “Okay, I'll admit, it’s good,” you admitted, handing it over with a sleepy grin.

Ben grinned back, his tone suddenly lighter as he accepted the mug again. “Mhm, damn right,” his drawl thick in the early hour, the kind that always made you feel just a bit more awake than you were ready for. His voice was deep, still rough from sleep, and you felt a strange flutter at the sound of it, so different from his usual light-hearted teasing. He looked like he wanted to add something further, but instead, he raised the mug to his lips, pausing for the briefest moment before taking a sip from the exact spot where your mouth had just been.

“Let’s go,” he said softly, his voice a little rough, almost hesitant, and you nodded, letting him lead the way out into the slowly illuminating streets.

The walk to the café was quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet now, one that felt heavy with things left unsaid, with the strange intimacy of the moment lingering between you like a secret. Your footsteps echoed against the pavement, and you felt more awake with each step, the chilly air biting at your face and the faint light from the rising sun glinting off the windows above. Ben was walking a little too close, his arm brushing yours every now and then, and you noticed the way he kept sneaking glances at you as if he was trying to memorise every detail, the way his hoodie pooled around your hips, the faint shadow of sleep still lingering in your eyes and on your pouted lips, the way you hadn’t bothered to fix your hair or hide the bare honesty of your face.

“Don't think I’ve ever seen you this early before,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence, low and rumbling like distant thunder. “No makeup, no fancy clothes. Just... I don't know, man, just you.”

You looked up at him, squinting a little against the first light of dawn, and tried to muster up some kind of retort, but all you could manage was a half-hearted, sleepy smile. “Disappointed?” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Not even a little,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice hit you like a punch to the gut. He smiled, the edges of his mouth curling up in that familiar way that made your heart skip, and you found yourself smiling back without even realising it, feeling lighter and warmer than you had in a long time.

The two of you arrived at the café, footsteps slowing as you got closer. But when you reached the door, your heart sank. Not a single person lined up. The café was dark, the interior shrouded in shadows, and there, taped to the inside of the window, was a handwritten sign that read: Closed. Opens at 7 AM.

You blinked at it, still half-asleep, your shoulders slumping as disappointment settled in. “Ben,” you dragged a hand over your face before narrowing your eyes at him, “you’re telling me I could’ve slept for two more hours? I thought it'd be open sooner!”

“Hey, who needs sleep?” he said, shrugging without a hint of regret. He gestured to the empty curb across the street with a grin. “C’mon. Let’s sit it out. I’ll make the time fly right by.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Despite the chill in the early-morning air, you settled beside him on the curb, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you rested your chin atop your knees. The street was quiet in the way only early morning can be, just the two of you and the distant hum of a waking city.

Ben stretched his long legs out in front of him like he owned the street. There was something so easy about sitting there with him in the silence, the air crisp and the sky just beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn. You watched the horizon, focusing on the deepening shades of indigo and pale gold, the familiar comfort of the city awakening inch by inch. It was strange how easy it was to be around him, how your guard dropped without you even noticing. His presence was effortless, and the way his eyes rested on you every now and then, like you were someone worth seeing, made you feel something you didn’t quite want to name yet.

“You know,” he murmured, a hint of his usual humour in his tone, “you’re not half bad at relaxin’ after all.”

You shot him a soft glare, lips twitching. “Are you trying to say I’m fun?”

“Hmm...I’d say a little more than fun,” he replied, his smile widening. “But let’s just leave it at that for now. At least no one’s in line, so we’ll get the best seat in the house when they do open” He glanced over to you as he leaned back on his palms.

You chuckled, glancing at the empty street. The entire street was silent, just the two of you in the quiet stillness of dawn. You relaxed a little, sinking further into the oversized hoodie that smelled like him, comforting and familiar.

After a while, he nudged you with his shoulder, his eyes up to the sky but his voice low. “You ever notice how I always seem to get you roped into these side quests of mine?” he asked, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Errands, random snack runs, you name it.”

You shot him a sideways glance, fighting back a smirk. “Oh, I’ve noticed. You have a knack for it, Ben. You’re lucky I can keep up. You nominated me for laundry duty last week too.”

He let his head back with a laugh. “Well, you’re good at it.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to help the smile that pulled at your lips. “Or maybe you’re just lazy.”

“Nah, it’s ‘cause you’re the only person who’ll actually come along for the ride,” he admitted, his gaze settling on you with a softness that made your heart skip. “Anyway… why don’t you ever bring a boyfriend along on one of these little errands? Not like you're short on admirers.”

His question caught you off guard, and you looked away, staring out at the sunrise as your thoughts turned inward. It was a topic you rarely touched, one you hadn’t even realised you’d been avoiding until now.“I don’t know,” you said softly, your voice distant and hesitant. “I guess, maybe… it’s just easier this way?”

“No one special you’re hiding from me, huh?” Ben’s tone was gentle, almost teasing, but his eyes held a genuine curiosity. He wanted to understand.

You swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat. This was a part of yourself you rarely shared, a shadow you’d kept hidden for a long time. But the stillness of the morning and the warmth in his gaze tugged at something deep inside. “There was someone,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “A while ago.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched you, the usual teasing gone, replaced by quiet patience.

“He... he liked that I had my life together, y'know? Like I was this 'go-getter,' always calm and composed,” you said, slowly letting the words surface. “Or at least, that’s what he told me. He said he liked that I wasn’t flashy and that I didn’t draw too much attention to myself. I think he appreciated my quiet confidence, and how I could go with the flow. Looking back, I think it was because he thought it made me easier to control...” You let out a short, hollow laugh that didn’t reach your eyes.

“I didn’t even realise when things shifted,” you continued, voice more firm now. “When he went from showing genuine interest to making all the decisions. It must've been gradual, but it felt like it just happened one day; I don’t know when it started. Suddenly, he was calling all the shots, and I thought I was just being a good partner. Compromising. Making space for him. Letting him be himself. But I didn’t see that, bit by bit, I was putting myself away.”

Ben’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent, his attention urging you to go on.

“He’d ignore my texts for hours, sometimes days, and then act like I was overreacting when I brought it up. But God forbid I missed one of his calls during training or when I was away on tour. If I couldn’t stay up late to talk, he’d make it into a huge deal. We’d set times to call, but he’d never follow through—and always with some lame excuse.”

You paused, drawing a deep breath, eyes fixed on a point in the distance.

“And then there were the arguments,” you said, voice tightening. “About the most impossible things—like how I didn’t spend enough time with him. How could I when I was half a world away? Or how my career always came first. He said I was boring, that I wasn’t spontaneous enough. But whenever I tried to change, there was always something else wrong. No matter what I did, it was never enough.”

Ben’s expression darkened, a flicker of frustration tightening the corners of his mouth. His hand was on the curb next to yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his skin—grounding you.

“Maybe he was jealous,” you said, the words almost to yourself. “That’s what my mom said. Jealous of my success, or of the fact that I had something I loved that wasn’t about him. He knew exactly how to make me feel small. Every victory, every career milestone, he’d twist it, make me feel like I was failing him. Like I was always letting him down. I thought... if I could just balance it all if I could make him happy, he’d love me the way I needed. But honestly? I don’t even know what I needed anymore, not when he was the one telling me how to feel.”

You swallowed, the bitterness of those memories heavy on your tongue.

“No matter how much I shifted or tried to be the girl he wanted, it was never enough. There was always another criticism, another reason why I wasn’t good enough. I was too selfish, too focused on my career, too indecisive, too... everything. And I believed him. I thought I was the problem. That I just couldn’t make him happy.”

A light breeze swept through the street, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, pulling your knees close as if to shield yourself from the weight of those memories.

“He was... God, Ben, you should've heard him. He was so relentless when he wanted to be. It felt like every part of my life was under a microscope, every single decision, every single choice; it was all wrong. All the things I loved, the things that made me proud, they just started to fade away, like they’d been drained of colour.”

Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed on, finding strength in the words you’d never fully voiced before.

“I started to lose myself in a spiral. Everything felt so ... grey, so heavy like I was wading through water. I thought... isn’t this what relationships are? Compromise, sacrifice, working through the rough patches? That’s what I kept telling myself. I thought if I just tried harder, if I carried the weight for both of us, then maybe he’d be happy again, like how he was in the beginning. But I started wondering if I was even cut out for love. I mean, what does it even mean to love someone, really? All I knew was that I kept losing myself in the process, and it still wasn’t nearly enough.”

You exhaled, as the quiet of the morning felt almost too peaceful, the faint chirping of birds contrasting with the heaviness of what you were saying.

“And then he cheated,” you continued, your voice flat. “When I found out, he didn’t even try to deny it. He just looked at me, fatigued, and was like, ‘What did you expect with the way you treat me? Don’t be so naive.’ But you know what?”

You paused, a strange light creeping into your voice.

“It was almost a relief. Him cheating... it was my way out. For the first time, I had a solid, undeniable reason to leave. I didn’t have to keep convincing myself that I needed to try harder, or that it was all my fault.”

Your voice softened, carrying vulnerability.

“I don’t even know if I ever really loved him, or maybe, I don't know how to love. Maybe I just loved the idea of being loved or being enough for someone. But the truth is, I don’t think I even know what love is supposed to feel like. I gave everything I had, and it still wasn’t right, I felt so drained like a vampire had me. Maybe I’ve never felt real love, or maybe... maybe I’m just not meant for it.”

Ben’s silence was heavy beside you, his gaze unwavering, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. The shame and rawness of your words made your throat tighten, but you kept going.

“I stayed until I had nothing left to give until I got cheated on, and even then, I couldn’t tell you why. It was like I was trying to win a game I didn’t even understand. And in the end, I realised... I never even had him, not truly. I was always chasing something that wasn’t there. It was always a losing game, and I was the only one playing.”

Ben’s gaze was steady, the weight of your words hanging between you. Then he spoke, his tone warm and sincere. “You don’t deserve someone treating you like that. Not ever. I-"

He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment before he continued.

"I can’t even imagine doin' that to you. You’re more than enough, you always have been. You don’t need to change a single thing for anyone. Man, I like you just the way you are because I know you, and I know you’re worth so much more than what you settled for with that dick.”

A tear slid down your cheek, carrying all the hurt you’d kept buried for so long. You weren’t crying, not really, but his words had found their way past all your defences, and something inside you softened and broke open.

“Do you really mean that?” you asked, your voice small, almost scared, your eyes searching his.

Ben’s eyes locked onto yours, and something in his expression shifted. For a moment, he seemed almost stunned, his face softening, his features melting with a tenderness that made it hard to breathe. He reached out slowly to cup your face with his hand, as if afraid you might pull away, and when you didn’t, he gently wiped the tear from your cheek. His fingers lingered, brushing against your skin with a touch so careful it made your heart ache.

“I mean every word,” he said, his voice low and steady, barely more than a whisper. “I see you, Y/N. I’ve always seen you.”

His words hit you like a wave, and the tears came faster, though still silent. Ben’s expression softened even further, and he pulled you into him without hesitation, wrapping a strong arm around you, and holding you close. You pressed your face into his shoulder, feeling the warmth and solid comfort of him, and slowly, you let yourself sink into his embrace. He didn’t speak, just rubbed your back in gentle circles, his chin resting on top of your head.

After minutes had passed when the tightness in your chest had started to fade and the early morning warmth grew warmer, you felt him smile against your hair. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, and he said with a playful grin, “If this is all it takes to get a hug outta you, I should’ve asked sooner.”

You couldn’t help it, you let out a small, breathy laugh, rolling your eyes even as you stayed close to him, nestling your head before you lifted it up.

“Oh, shut up,” you said, smacking his shoulder lightly. “If I knew you were gonna use emotional blackmail for free hugs, I would’ve kept my distance.”

He chuckled, the sound low and comforting, and the warmth of the moment settled between you. You pulled away, wiping your face with the oversized sleeves of his old hoodie, the one that had become yours. The quiet returned, peaceful now, the sun creeping higher in the sky and washing everything in shades of soft orange and pink.

You sat together in silence, shoulder to shoulder, the pain slowly ebbing away as the world woke up around you. There was something different between you now, a shift that neither of you said out loud but both of you felt. For the first time in a long time, you felt a weight lift, and you let yourself relax against him, the silence and small conversation comfortable as you felt relief and warmth flow through you.

By the time the café finally opened, you and Ben had spent two hours huddled together as the sun began to bathe you two, and sharing quiet laughter as the world slowly woke up around you. The anticipation of the legendary breakfast had both of you giddy and a little loopy from the early start, making the time fly by.

But when the doors swung open and you finally got your hands on the much-hyped breakfast sandwiches, reality hit. The sandwiches were mediocre, wayyy too salty and the coffee was disappointingly weak. The "famous" breakfast sandwiches that Ben’s TikTok video had promised would be life-changing were, frankly, a letdown. Yet, it didn’t matter at all.

The two of you slid into a corner booth, expecting to sit across from each other, but Ben surprised you by scooting in right beside you, his thigh pressing lightly against yours. He stretched his legs out under the table, claiming the whole space as his own. You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into his warmth as you sipped your disappointing coffee.

“This is the most underwhelming breakfast I’ve ever had,” you said, crinkling your nose as you picked at the sandwich.

Ben chuckled, flashing you a mischievous grin. “Guess I owe you a better one, next time” he teased, nudging your shoulder with his.

“Damn right, you do,” you shot back with a smirk.

Ben’s arm rested casually over the back of the booth, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine. Every small, careless touch, his knee nudging yours, his fingers grazing your hoodie, made it harder to ignore the fluttering in your chest. With each laugh and shared smile, you felt something shifting between you, something that made it impossible to see him as just a friend, especially after being so vulnerable earlier.

As the café started to fill with the morning crowd, you remained on the same side of the booth, your legs tangled comfortably under the table. There was an easy closeness between you now, a kind of unspoken understanding like you were sharing a secret that only the two of you knew. When he reached over to brush a crumb from your lip as you talked, his fingertips barely grazing your skin, you felt your cheeks heat and words stutter, but you didn’t pull away. The sun rose higher, streaming golden light through the café windows, and the warmth between you felt softer and more real than any disappointment over a bad breakfast. Ben’s presence was grounding, and for the first time in a very long time, you felt genuinely at ease, like the weight of your earlier conversation and all your own personal baggage had lessened, transformed into something lighter by his easy smile and gentle touch.

By the time you both decided to leave, you were still laughing over the overhyped “legendary” breakfast. As you stepped out onto the sun-drenched street, Ben’s hand slipped into yours with a light squeeze, like always, as if to say, I’m still here. I’ve got you. The simple gesture left your skin tingling, and your heart racing just a little faster.

You walked together down the slowly waking street back to the hotel, shoulder to shoulder, arms looped together, a warmth lingering between you that had nothing to do with the sunrise. The world around you was coming alive, but it felt like you were still living in that quiet, private space you'd created in the early morning hours, a small bubble of warmth and closeness that was just yours. Of course, it couldn't last long, not with training and matches coming up alongside personal commitments and whatever else, but having this quiet time together was more than rewarding.

As the café faded into the past, so did the warmth of those golden moments, but the echoes lingered. It wasn’t just the memory of his hand brushing yours or the way his laugh had chased away the lingering shadows of your conversation. It was the way he lingered, so effortlessly, so relentlessly, in the quiet spaces of your life.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him as your tour carried you to different cities. The way his hand had slipped into yours so naturally that morning replayed in your mind at the oddest times: during practice serves, mid-flight naps creeping into your peaceful dreams, even while unpacking yet another suitcase in yet another hotel room. It wasn’t like you wanted to be distracted, but Ben was everywhere, his presence stamped into your routine as if he’d always been part of it. And it seemed as though he had no intention of loosening that grip he had on your mind. Calls and messages were frequent as days blurred into one another, conversations that felt simultaneously too much and not nearly enough. Ones that'd have you squealing in bed as you reread over the texts or have you clutching your phone tight minutes after hanging up, savouring the small moments. The banter was still there, as effortless as it was grounding, but now it came with an undercurrent you couldn’t name, something unspoken threading its way through the pauses between your words. Ben became a comforting constant amid the chaos. He was always just a call or a text away, his presence a steady anchor even when everything else felt transient. And while you were grateful for the familiarity, it didn’t stop the butterflies that erupted every time his name lit up your phone.

Like tonight.

After a gruelling match and a hurried dinner that barely counted as a meal, you finally collapsed onto the hotel bed. The quiet of the room felt foreign after the noise of the day, but it was a relief until your phone buzzed on the nightstand. The call started with Ben’s face filling the screen, eyebrows raised and a smirk already in place.

“Hey, stranger,” he smiled in a sing-song tone.

“Oh, spare me,” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling despite yourself.

" 'Spare me?' ” Ben scoffed, kicking back and grinning at the screen. “Girl, you’re acting like you’re the only one with a rough schedule. What’ve you been up to? Post-match feast, or just a sad granola bar?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Neither. Quick and quiet dinner after the match, some bland pasta with a wilted salad, the usual. Real glamorous stuff.You already back to your hotel?”

“Hours ago,” he said. “Caught the highlights of your match, though. That backhand winner down the line? Chef’s kiss.” He mimed a dramatic kiss to the camera. “You’re out here stealing the show.”

“Please,” you said, rolling your eyes, and shrugging. “It wasn’t even my best match. I’ll take a win, though.”

“Don’t be modest,” Ben teased. “Meanwhile, my highlights reel was probably just me sweating buckets with my shirt clinging to me and yelling after missing a forehand.”

You smirked. “Nah, you’re too busy being ‘America’s tennis heartthrob.’ I’m sure your fangirls don’t even notice the double faults.”

Ben groaned, throwing his head back. “Not this again.”

“Oh, come on,” you grinned, teasing him. “Tall, built, All-American golden boy? I’m shocked they haven’t made you into a wax figure yet! ATP should get on that, the more I think about it.”

He leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “Is the golden boy charm working on you?”

You blinked, caught off guard, furrowing your brows. “What..? No. Shut up!”

Ben chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Hey, I was just checking. You're the one who brought it up.”

“Yeah, well…” you said, flustered, fumbling for a comeback. “I mean, I guess it’s a little funny. The way they’re all obsessed with you, I mean.”

He smirked. “Smooth save.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, looking away. “At least you’re not lonely on tour. You’ve got Bryan. Built-in travel buddy.”

Ben scrunched his face up. “Oh yeah, great idea! Let me just grab dinner with my dad after a match so he can spend two hours lecturing me about footwork and his ‘good ol’ days.’ ”

You laughed, before breaking into a pout. “Poor, poor Bryan. He just wants to hang out with his son, and you’re out here running from him.”

“I’m not running,” Ben said defensively. “I’m…um, strategically avoiding.”

“Sure you are.”

“And anyway, no one here’s like you,” he added, his tone casual but his gaze steady.

That caught you off guard. “Yeah-w-what?”

Ben’s smirk deepened. “Don’t choke now. Where’s that quick wit of yours?”

“Shut it,” you groaned, your face heating up as you pressed your face into the mattress.

“Aw, you’re blushing,” he teased, leaning closer to the camera. “Cat really got your tongue this time, huh?”

“Ben, I swear to God,” you said, groaning and burying your face in your hands and dropping the phone.

He laughed, clearly triumphant. “It’s okay, you’ll get me back at the charity doubles event in a few months. I’m counting on you to carry me.”

“Carry you?” you said, grateful for the change in topic. “I thought you were the unstoppable Ben Shelton. 'Big serves, big shots.’ "

“Yeah, yeah, but doubles is different,” he said with a shrug. “Doubles is all about teamwork. I’ll take your instructions. Like Federer and Mirka, except, y’know, cooler.”

You laughed. “Cooler? That’s a bold claim.”

“Why not?” he said, spreading his arms wide. “They’re classy, they’re unstoppable, and they look good doing it. That’s us, right? Total power couple energy.”

“Power couple?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“On the court,” he clarified with a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it professional.”

“You’d better,” you muttered, shaking your head, though you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

As the call ended and the screen faded to black, you lingered in the quiet of your room, your pulse still racing in the aftermath of his teasing grin. Your fingers traced the necklace at your throat, the metal cool under your touch, but the memory it carried, the warmth of his hands, the way his eyes had softened when he fastened it, made your chest feel full and tight all at once.

You had to admit, Ben Shelton was infuriatingly good at leaving you in this liminal space, caught somewhere between wanting to roll your eyes and wanting to let yourself fall completely into whatever this was becoming.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed and rifled through your suitcase, finding his hoodie tucked neatly inside. It was a lifeline, an anchor to him when the distance felt like too much. The fabric was soft against your cheek as you hugged it to your chest, his scent faint but unmistakable, as if he were still there, filling the room with his easy laughter and ridiculous charm. It was almost maddening how easily he got under your skin, how his words lingered long after the call had ended, tangling themselves with your thoughts and leaving you guessing.

Was he just being Ben? The not-knowing was intoxicating in its own way, a thrill and torment that made your stomach flutter and your mind race long into the night until you could fall asleep, and even then, he graced your dreams with his warmth that you could never get enough of.

For Ben, the feelings weren’t any simpler. He leaned back against his hotel bed, the phone still warm in his hand, the smile he’d worn during the call refusing to fade. You always had this way of leaving him grinning like an idiot, proud of his one-liners that caught you off guard but tonight felt different. He loved catching you off guard, how you’d try to fire back some clever retort only to stammer and fall silent, just like the first time he met you. It wasn’t just funny to him; it was endearing, that quiet vulnerability you didn’t even seem to notice. And God, you were beautiful, even in that post-match haze, hair damp and face free of makeup, exhaustion softening your edges in a way that only made you look more real, more you. He wished he could've seen you in person; he could stare at you like that for hours and still turn back for a second glimpse, never getting enough.

He sighed, rolling onto his side as his fingers hovered over a photo on his camera roll, the one where you weren’t looking, too focused on a menu, brow furrowed like the decision was life or death, another one of you in his car, casually on your phone, followed by another photo and another. He couldn’t help it; his chest tightened at the memory of moments like that, the way you made the chaos of his life feel lighter. Then there were the little things: the protein bar with your teasing note that you threw in his bag during a practice one time, or the way you seemed to know exactly when to check in when you could read how he honestly was.

It scared him sometimes, how easily you crept into his thoughts, how much he wanted to be the reason you smiled the way you had tonight. And yet, even as the thought tightened in his chest, Ben smiled again, already counting down the days until he’d see you at the charity event, knowing it just couldn't come sooner.

The atmosphere at the event was electric, a blend of effortless fun and star-studded tennis. Neon lights pulsed along the edges of the court, casting playful shadows on the buzzing crowd as a DJ spun upbeat tracks that thrummed in your chest and made the ground pulse. It was far from a serious tournament, more like a party on a tennis court, where fans and players mingled, indulging in casual games and champagne-laced banter.

You smoothed down your navy skirt, the silky white bow in your hair fluttering lightly as you stepped into the tunnel, the buzz of conversation growing louder. A little blush, a sweep of mascara, and a touch of concealer made you look radiant but understated; the only jewellery you wore was the rose-gold necklace Ben had gotten you, gleaming softly against your collarbones under the venue’s lights.

“Ready to dazzle?” another player teased as she passed by, her racket slung lazily over her shoulder. You shot her a grin, zipping up your bag as you mentally prepared for the night ahead. But before you could take another step with your bag now slung over your arm, a hand wrapped gently around your wrist, tugging you back into the shadowed corner of the tunnel.

You turned quickly, your startled expression melting into a mixture of exasperation and amusement when you saw Ben. He was leaning against the wall, grinning like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“Subtle as always,” you teased, arching a brow, even as your chest tightened slightly at the sight of him. It had been months, and somehow, he looked the same but different, more confident, more composed, yet just as unmistakably Ben.

He tilted his head, his grin spreading slowly. “What can I say? I like to make an entrance.”

“By sneaking up on me?” you quipped, folding your arms but unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Better than yelling, don’t you think?” He pushed off the wall, stepping closer, his presence filling the space between you. For a moment, the noise of the crowd outside felt distant, the thrum of music fading into the background.

He let his eyes roam, taking in the bow in your hair and the soft gleam of the necklace he’d picked out weeks ago. “You look…” He trailed off, his voice softer now, tinged with something he wasn’t saying. “I mean, wow.”

You felt your cheeks flush, the warmth crawling up your neck as you shifted on your feet. “Don’t start, Shelton,” you muttered, though your voice lacked any conviction.

“What? It’s a compliment.” His tone dipped, quiet but teasing, as he leaned just enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne. “Guess I forgot how good you clean up...y'know while still bein' all proper.”

You tried for a quick, witty comeback, but the words stumbled and caught in your throat when his eyes met yours again, warm and intent. It was like he saw through the polished image you’d carefully put together for tonight, straight to the version of you he knew best: messy hair, sweat-soaked, exhausted after a match.

“Ben...” you started, voice faltering as he smiled.

“Missed this,” he murmured, stepping even closer as he studied your face, his gaze lingering on your lips. “Missed you.”

The simplicity of it hit harder than you expected, your breath catching as he pulled you into a tight hug without hesitation. His arms wrapped around you with a sure, steady strength that made your chest ache, one hand splayed against your upper back, the other resting lightly at your waist, rubbing up and down with his thumb. Your cheek pressed into his shoulder as you let yourself lean in, your arms slipping around him.

You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach him properly, your nose brushing the soft skin of his neck. He smelled faintly of cologne and something clean, and when he bent slightly to press his face against your hair, the warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine.

Neither of you said anything at first; the hug lingered just long enough to toe the line between friendly and something more.

“Alright, lovebirds,” a voice called from behind, breaking the moment. You glanced over to see Tommy Paul strolling by with a smirk, holding a tennis racket slung over one shoulder. “Save it for the courts.”

You pulled back quickly, a small laugh spilling out despite yourself. Ben groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Ignore him,” he muttered, his other hand still resting lightly on your waist.

You shook your head, biting back a smile as you looked up at him. “Guess I should’ve known you’d bring your fan club with you.”

Ben chuckled, his thumb brushing against your side before he let his hand drop. “They’re just jealous,” he teased. Then, his grin turned sharper, more mischievous. “Besides, you’re Mirka tonight, remember? That makes me Federer.”

You rolled your eyes, already turning back toward the tunnel’s exit. “Then let’s hope you’re half as good on the court as he is.”

His laugh followed you, rich and unbothered. “Careful, Mirka, I might just have to prove it to you out there.”

You smirked, stepping forward toward the light of the court. “Right. I'll see you out there, Federer.”

Ben chuckled low behind you, the sound carrying as he followed. “Better bring your A-game, Mirka.”

You both stepped into the event space, the pulse of music and hum of voices a vibrant backdrop. A waiter with a tray of champagne flutes passed by, and Ben grabbed two, handing you one. “For courage?” he teased, raising a brow.

“Or patience,” you countered with a cheeky smile, clinking your glass against his before taking a sip. The bubbles tickled your throat, a pleasant warmth settling in your chest.

The two of you drifted toward the edge of the court, lingering for a moment to take in the scene. Fans were scattered around, some waving excitedly as they noticed you both, others engrossed in their own games. The energy in the air was contagious.

“You nervous?” Ben asked, glancing down at you, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned closer.

You scoffed lightly, tilting your head toward him. “Pfft, not even a little. You?”

“Only about carrying you,” he shot back with a teasing grin.

You laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that had him grinning even wider. “Big talk for someone who hasn’t even warmed up yet.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, taking a sip from his glass, his eyes never leaving yours. “Trust, I’m plenty warm now.”

The look he gave you was so direct, so warm, it sent a shiver down your spine. For a second, you almost forgot where you were, his gaze holding you in place. Then, with a soft laugh, you shook your head. “Careful, Shelton. I might start to think you’re flirting with me.”

“And if I am?” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

You didn’t answer, the sudden heat in your cheeks making you glance away. But Ben stepped closer, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken. “You’re kinda cute when you’re quiet, you know that?”

“I’m not quiet,” you retorted, though the slight stumble in your voice only made his grin deepen.

He shook his head before he got pulled into some conversation, the night stretching out with laughs. It wasn't long before it was your turn on the courts with Ben for mixed doubles with fans. The game was as lighthearted as the crowd’s energy, every point a mix of banter, champagne-fueled laughter, and effortless coordination between you and Ben. You didn’t know if it was the bubbly coursing through your veins or just the sheer ease of being around him, but the nerves that usually gripped you on a court had dissolved into something bolder, something exhilarating.

“Hey! Didn’t know you could slice like that,” Ben teased, coming up beside you after you returned a tricky serve with a clean, low shot. His grin was wide, boyish, and entirely too charming.

“Didn’t know you cared enough to notice,” you quipped back, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

His laugh was low, his eyes sparkling under the court lights. “Oh, I notice. Don’t worry about that.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away as he moved to stand closer, his shoulder brushing yours. A fan on the opposite side sent the ball flying long, and you let out a small cheer, reaching up for a high five. His palm smacked yours, but instead of letting go, his fingers lingered, curling slightly against yours to hold your hand in his big one as he leaned down just enough for only you to hear.

“Careful now,” he murmured, his voice dipping, his thumb grazing your palm. “Don’t make me think I need to keep you around full-time.”

Your stomach flipped, and you blinked up at him, thrown off by the sudden softness in his tone. “Keep up the compliments, Shelton, and I might start thinking you’re sweet.”

“I can be sweet,” he said, his grin turning a little cocky as he finally released your hand. “But only when you’re around.”

You were saved from having to respond by the start of the next point, though your heart was far too distracted to focus properly. Ben, however, didn’t seem fazed, his energy casual and relaxed as he sent a gentle lob to the next fan on the rotation. Between rallies, he wandered back to your side of the court, resting his hand briefly on the small of your back, rubbing it softly. The touch was fleeting, but it left a trail of warmth in its wake.

As you finished another easy point, Ben jogged toward you. “So, is this your strategy? Win them over with that slice and then charm me into doing all the work?”

You laughed, spinning your racket in your hand. “Oh, puh-lease. I’m doing most of the carrying here, Ben. Admit it, you’d be lost without me.”

“Lost? Nah.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping just a fraction. “Distracted? Definitely.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his gaze lingering longer than it should have. But before you could respond, another cheer from the crowd broke the moment. He stepped back, grinning as though he hadn’t just thrown your heart into overdrive.

By the end of the set, the champagne had smoothed the edges of your usual reserve, and the energy between you both crackled with something unspoken but undeniable. When you reached for another high-five after the final point, he caught your hand and tugged gently, pulling you just a step closer this time.

“We got a nice win,” he murmured, his eyes flicking down to yours.

“Mhm, and I got a nice partner,” you replied, the words falling out before you could think better of them.

His grin softened, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back again. “Careful. I might start thinking you’re trying to charm me.”

“And if I am?” you shot back, your eyes coy and big as your newfound confidence was fueled by the buzz in your veins and the way he was looking at you as if no one else in the world mattered.

Ben’s laughter was warm and rich, a blush spreading across his cheeks that wasn't just from the game. The way his eyes stayed locked on yours said everything. “Then I’d say it’s working.”

As the event wound down, you and Ben exchanged a few last high-fives with the fans. The laughter and excitement of the crowd hung in the air, but as the noise began to settle, there was a familiar, charged silence between you two. The playful teasing, the flirty glances, it was all still there, but now it had a weight to it as if the evening had somehow shifted to a different gear.

Ben caught up to you as you started to make your way toward the exit, his smile flashing as he fell into step beside you. "So, what do you think?" he asked, voice low and teasing. "Pizza? Just us? The rest are going to a restaurant downtown, but I thought we could hang out n' catch up."

You raised an eyebrow, the suggestion making your heart skip a beat. There was something about the idea of more time with him, just the two of you, that sent a rush through your chest. “Pizza?” you repeated, the buzz from the champagne still swirling inside you, but now mixing with a touch of curiosity. “After all that, you want to drag me to some random pizza joint?”

Ben grinned, his eyes full of mischief. "It's not random. It’s a little hidden gem, just a few blocks away. Trust me, it's worth it. You won’t find better pizza around here, Ben approved.”

You glanced at him, your internal struggle between teasing him and playing it cool warring inside you. There was something in the way he said it, an undeniable charm in his voice that made you want to go. The idea of quiet, easy conversation with him, without the crowd, the friends and the noise, felt too good to pass up.

"Alright, fine," you said, rolling your eyes but giving in. "But if this place turns out to be some dive with soggy crust, I’m blaming you.”

Ben laughed, his grin widening. “Deal. You’ll love it, though. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

The two of you began walking down the street, and the air between you seemed to settle into something new, something more intimate. The world around you felt quieter now, each step taking you farther from the noise of the event and closer to something more personal. With every step, the liquid courage from the champagne seemed to melt away, leaving behind a fluttery, almost nervous feeling in your chest. Maybe it was the lingering heat from the flirting, or maybe it was just that you were walking with him, alone.

“So,” you asked, trying to keep it light, but your curiosity bubbled through, “how many people do you drag to these random pizza spots, Ben?”

He chuckled at that, his eyes flicking over to you for a brief moment, amused. “Honestly? Not many. You’re the first one, I think.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Really? I’m the first person you’ve brought here?”

Ben shrugged casually, his grin widening with the playfulness that was so typical of him. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing. But when I find a place this good, I kinda want to share it with someone who'd 'ppreciate it, someone who's... worth it.”

His words hung in the air, and for a split second, everything between you seemed to be still. You could feel the warmth in your chest, the closeness between you suddenly feeling charged. You fought the urge to let it show, instead meeting his gaze with a playful grin.

“Well, lucky me, huh?”

“Lucky you,” Ben echoed, and his voice softened just enough that you noticed. He turned slightly toward you, his pace matching yours, steady and relaxed.

By the time you reached the pizza place, the small talk had faded into a comfortable silence, both of you still trying to make sense of whatever was happening between you. You hadn’t crossed any line yet, but with every moment, it felt more inevitable that something was to change. As you walked inside the tiny pizzeria, the smell of fresh baked goods hit you immediately. The cozy, intimate atmosphere felt like a world away from the high-energy chaos of the event. Ben led you to the counter, and even though the tension between you was still palpable, it had shifted. It was no longer the playful, teasing kind of tension, it was something else. Something unspoken, but undeniable.

You had no idea where this was heading, but with Ben by your side, you were curious to find out.

You walk back toward the venue, the buzz of the event now a distant memory, stomachs full from the pizza that somehow tasted better than it had any right to. The tiny pizzeria, tucked away in a quiet corner, had been the perfect escape. The laughter that had flowed freely while you ate had washed away the tension and the drunken buzz that had clung to you both all night. It had been easy, lighthearted, comfortable, like nothing had changed, even though everything had.

As the two of you strolled back under the glow of the streetlights, a comfortable silence settled between you. The air was cool, a light breeze weaving through the night. The only sound was the rhythm of your shoes on the pavement. Yet, inside, you both felt the weight of what hadn’t been said.

Ben’s hands were stuffed in his pockets as he kept pace with you, his easy stride matching yours. But something had shifted in him, his smile softer, his eyes more attentive as he glanced at you. “You look really good tonight, you know that?”

You laughed lightly, rolling your eyes as you shook your head. “Ben, you keep saying that,” you teased, “What’s the deal with you tonight? You want something?”

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, genuine and unguarded. “Nah, I'm just sayin' 'cause it’s true,” he said, a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Your stomach fluttered, the compliment hitting you harder than you expected. You’d heard him say things like that before, but tonight? There was something different in the way he said it. Something quieter, more sincere.

“Okay, okay,” you said with a grin, trying to mask the effect his words had on you. “I get it, I look good. Thank you.” You laughed at yourself, but Ben’s gaze never wavered from you.

Ben chuckled, his tone light but steady. “I mean it,” he repeated softly, then added, “And that necklace we got... It’s perfect for you, made for you. Looks really good on you.”

You touched the pendant on the necklace, the one he had picked out for you earlier, and it felt foreign now. Warmer, more meaningful, like it was holding a piece of the night with it. “I think you’re just saying that to flatter me,” you teased.

“I’m not,” he said seriously, his voice dropping slightly. “You really do look good. I mean you’ve always looked good, but tonight... I dunno, it’s sumn' else.”

You caught the sincerity in his words, and your heart thumped a little harder. Ben, usually the jokester, was being serious now. “Well,” you said, your voice almost breathless, “Thank you. I’ll take it.”

He smiled, a playful glint in his eyes still there, but it was softer. “Of course.”

There was a long pause as you walked side by side. The city’s lights flickered around you, the hum of the night settling into a comfortable silence. But then, something shifted. You couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“So, Ben…” you started, your voice tentative. “Are you like this with every girl you meet?”

His stride faltered for just a second, and he turned to look at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean, like ‘this’?”

“Flirty,” you let out a breath at your boldness, a teasing edge in your voice. “Like making everyone feel like they’re the only one. Are you always so... charming?” You paused, gathering your courage. “You do this with every girl?”

Ben stopped walking, his hands sliding out of his pockets as he processed your words. He tilted his head, studying your face before shaking his head.

“What girl do I have around me or talk to, besides you, Emma and my mom?” His voice was calm, but there was an honesty in it that made your chest tighten. “You’re the only girl I ever talk to like this, spend time with. So no, not every girl.”

You blinked, surprised. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, really.” He looked at you like you were asking the most obvious question. “You think I’m like this with every girl I meet? I only talk to you like this.”

That honesty hit you harder than you expected, your breath catching. You hadn’t realized how much you’d assumed about him until now. His words made your heart race.

You glanced up at him, trying to make sense of it all. But his expression said everything you needed to know.

“Yeah, duh, c'mon, Y/N” he grinned, a sincere, slightly confused smile spreading across his face. “What makes you think I’d mess around like that? It’s only you.”

You stopped walking, your mind racing as his words sank in. “Wait,” you said, a disbelieving smile spreading across your face, though your brow furrowed. “You’re telling me, you don’t talk to anyone else like this? You don’t hang out with other girls?”

Ben chuckled softly, his hands back in his pockets, but his eyes serious as he looked at you. “Nah, you’re the only one I ask to hang with. You’re the only one I text first when I’m on tour. You’re the one I call to mess around with.” He smiled like he was telling you the simplest truth in the world. “So yeah, it’s just you.”

You swallowed thickly, your heart pounding in your chest. Every word Ben had said felt like it was pulling you under, a current that you could no longer fight. You hadn’t realised how much you needed to hear him say those things until the weight of them hit you, until his words finally opened the floodgates in your chest, making your heart pound. Could it be that he valued you just as much as you did him? You let out a slow breath, the air feeling heavier now like you were standing on the edge of something monumental.

“Ben…” you whispered as you halted in your tracks, your voice unsteady but determined, a sigh escaping your lips.

It didn’t make sense. You’d always assumed Ben had people around him, always figured he was surrounded by fans or other girls, but hearing him say that you were the one, the only one, hit you in a way you hadn’t expected. You opened your mouth to try to verbalise the swirling thoughts in your head, but the words stuck, so instead, you let the silence sit between you. Then, Ben took a slow step closer, his tone shifting from casual to something more serious.

“Can I be honest with you?” His voice was lower now, the playful edge that usually made everything feel light gone.

You nodded before you could even stop yourself, feeling your heartbeat thud in your chest. There was no going back now, not with the way he looked at you.

He took a deep breath before he began, looking down the street before turning to face you.

“I like you,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Like, I really like you.” His gaze held yours, unwavering. “I know it’s probably not the best time to say it with everything going on, with our tours and us barely seein’ each other, but I can’t just let this hang on. I can’t just let it pass and regret not saying somethin’ later. I’m not that dumb.”

He exhaled like he was trying to shake off the weight of what he had just confessed, looking at you like he was unsure whether you would run or stay.

“You’ve got this way of, like... pullin’ me in, y’know? I don’t even know what to do with myself most of the time. I try to act like it's all cool like I’m just messin' around, but I can’t stop thinkin' about you, ever. And I never thought I’d be the kind of guy who gets wrapped up in somethin' like this. But here I am.”

You blinked, not sure if your heart was beating too fast or too slow. His confession hung in the air, heavier than anything either of you had said before. It was raw, and it made your chest tighten.

“I know we got months apart, and I know you probably think I’m crazy for sayin’ this now, but I had to say it.” He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... It’s just you.”

You stood still for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. The weight of his confession settled over you, his words still hanging in the air, thick with meaning. Your heart raced, and you could feel your pulse at your fingertips as you tried to process everything he had just shared. Ben took another step closer, inches away from you, his eyes never leaving yours. There was an intensity in his gaze that made everything feel surreal like you were the only two people in the world. His voice softened as he spoke again, this time with more emotion than before, his words raw and unguarded.

“You know,” he started, his drawl even more pronounced now, “ever since we first met, I wanted to be in your circle. I wanted to be around you, be close to you. But when I saw you with that necklace, and my hoodie, laughin’ and lookin’ up at me like that, God, Y/N, swear I could feel my heart meltin’ right then. I don’t even know how to explain it. It just felt like... I dunno, like everything clicked.” He paused, his breath catching as if he was just now realizing how much those little moments had meant to him.

“And when you told me about your ex, Jesus, I wanted to-” He cut himself off, a flash of anger flickering in his eyes, but he quickly controlled it. “I wanted to kill that son of a-” He stopped himself again, shaking his head as if shaking off the anger.

“Not that it matters. But what matters is that I want to show you what real love is. What real care feels like. What a real man’s like, y’know?” His voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper. “What you deserve, and then some.”

He leaned in slightly, his hand instinctively reaching for yours, fingers brushing lightly, but lingering longer than necessary.

“Hell, if you gave me a chance, even, just, like, 20 minutes?” He let out a breath, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, but there was no humour behind it, only sincerity. “I’d give you the world, and more, in that short time. Until you told me enough. But I need you to know that... it’s real. It’s all real, Y/N. I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t.”

You stood frozen, your mouth slightly parted, trying to catch your breath. His words hit you like a wave, each sentence making your heart race faster, your chest tightening as the weight of everything he said settled into your bones. You couldn’t speak for a second, lost in the gravity of what he had just revealed. The vulnerability, the truth in his eyes, the way his words laid bare a side of him you hadn’t seen before, it was all too much, and yet everything you hadn’t realized you wanted.

A sigh escaped your lips as the words came tumbling out of you.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping you, but it was one of relief, one of release. “You drive me insane, Ben. Every time you’re around, every time you look at me like that, like I’m the only one in the room, it makes me feel things I’m not sure I know how to handle. I can’t even explain it to myself, let alone to you. It’s like I’m constantly trying to push it down, but every time you smile, or, God, when you do that thing with your eyes when you look at me like you’re the only one who really sees me…” You trailed off, the words too big to say all at once. You exhaled, shaking your head, but the relief was already washing over you. “I’ve never felt like this before. Not even close.”

Ben was quiet for a moment, his gaze softening as he listened. You could see the understanding in his eyes, the way he was holding back, yet completely tuned in to every word. It was different now. You felt his grip on your fingers tighten just slightly as if grounding both of you at this moment, a silent assurance that you weren’t alone in this confession.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and gentle. “You don’t have to hold back with me.” He stepped closer, his other hand lifting to gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a slow, deliberate motion that made your breath hitch. “I’ve felt it too. All of it. Every damn time I’m with you, I can’t stop thinkin’ about how much I want this. Want you.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process the depth of his words, Ben pulled you in, unable to hold back anymore. His lips found yours with a sudden, overwhelming intensity that took the air from your lungs. His kiss was deep, full of everything that had been unspoken between you two for so long, full of everything you needed and more. His hand at the back of your neck held you steady as his other arm wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him, the warmth of his body sending a wave of heat through you.

The late night wrapped around you like a blanket, the streetlights casting soft pools of light across the footpath, but it was the brick wall behind you that grounded you. Your back pressed against it, your hands instinctively finding his shirt, tugging him closer as if you couldn’t get enough. You felt his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong, in sync with the way your pulse quickened in response to him. Ben’s lips moved against yours with a kind of desperate gentleness, his kiss unhurried but passionate and purposeful, as if he was trying to pour everything he hadn’t said into this single moment. The world felt far away, all that existed was him and you, the weight of his confession still settling in the space between you, the understanding, the desire.

When he finally pulled back, it was only enough for your lips to part, breaths mingling between you, your chest rising and falling as if you had just run a marathon. His forehead rested against yours, and his hands slid from your face to the small of your back, holding you steady as you both tried to catch your breath.

You were still tangled up in the magic of his kiss, in the rawness of this moment, where everything finally made sense. The world seemed to slow down as you both stood there, foreheads pressed together. The air between you was thick with something unspoken, your breaths were still heavy, your heart racing, but there was also a quiet sense of relief as if you’d both been holding your breath for the longest time.

Ben leaned in slightly, his smile playful yet soft, his gaze locking with yours as the quiet of the night settled around you. "You know," he said, his voice low and teasing, "for the first time, you’ve got me completely speechless."

You couldn’t help but giggle at the silliness of it all, the way he always knew just how to make you laugh, how to make everything feel lighter. The sound of your laugh made his gummy smile widen, and before he could say anything else, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, your heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with the night or the streetlights around you. It was just him.

Everything felt right at that moment, the electricity in the air, the warmth of his touch, and the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. Maybe you and Ben didn't make much sense together to everyone else, but to the two of you, it was clear as day.

[heyclickadee]

My take (that no one asked for) on every single Star Wars show and non-saga movie:

The Clone Wars (movie): It’s…okay it’s rough. This wasn’t supposed to be a movie at all, putting three episodes of the show together and releasing it theatrically was part of the distribution deal with Cartoon Network, as far as I know, and it does show. It’s grown on me, though.

Clone Wars (The Tartakovsky Series): I think I’m probably in the minority here, but I actually don’t love this one. It’s fun, slick, and stylish, like everything Tartakovsky does is, and I don’t dislike it, but it just doesn’t do much for me. It’s cool. Maybe it’s a little too cool. Great art style, though.

The Clone Wars: Very high highs, very low lows. Though to be honest, I actually love a lot of the goofier episodes. They’re fun. It doesn’t have to be all drama all the time. Sometimes you can let Jar Jar be an agent of chaos. Sometimes you can have an episode about interest rates. I don’t have the nostalgia factor going with TCW the way a lot of people do—I didn’t watch it until I was in my twenties—so I do have to admit that it is tied with one other show as my least favorite of the animated shows, but that’s not a bad thing. I still love it.

Ewoks: I’ve only seen about six episodes. It’s veeerry 80’s. I think eight year old me would have gone insane for this show had I seen it. Adult me actually has a bit of a soft spot for it. I’ll watch the rest of it eventually. (Aaaand now I have the theme song stuck in my head. It’s. It’s definitely a theme song.)

Droids: I…haven’t seen it.

Resistance: I finally had a chance to get all the way through this show (I was eyeballs deep in “okay fine we’ll try this college thing AGAIN” when it was airing and just didn’t have time to check it out) and you know what? It’s actually pretty good. It’s definitely skewed even a little younger than Star Wars typically is, but it does what it does really well. Sort of feel like this one is slept on.

The Mandalorian: It’s a fantastic adventure of the week show. I actually don’t dislike the “plot” episodes, but mostly I’m just here to watch what shenanigans Din and his small green force son get into. Season three is weaker than the first two, but I don’t even really think that season is bad. There was some great stuff in it—just uneven and mixed in with some not so great stuff. Overall, good popcorn viewing, as far as I’m concerned.

Andor: Okay, yeah, Andor is fantastic. I do think some of its popularity is that it’s one of two (maybe three) Star Wars shows made for adults more than anyone else, so some people don’t quite have the same “why isn’t this making me feel like Star Wars did when I was a kid?” dissonance watching it, but it is also genuinely amazing. Probably the best thing Star Wars has ever done even if it’s not technically my favorite.

The Book of Boba Fett: Is it a mess? Yes. Do I still enjoy it? Yeah. My main problem with BoBF is that it’s got some serious structural issues. Even besides Din coming in and taking over two whole episodes, I think that the telling the story via flashbacks was a mistake, and that we should have followed Boba through the childhood bits and slowly caught up to him in the present. Maybe revealed it was all a flashback while he was in the bacta tank from there. And I…don’t love Robert Rodriguez’s directorial style all that much, never really have. That said, I do hope we eventually get more of this, though if we do I think it will be folded into something else. Still don’t love the live action pike design. (I actually have a conspiracy theory that BoBF was originally just a few episodes or even a season of The Mandalorian, and that it was made its own thing for marketing purposes.) I want more Boba, more Fennec, and more Sand People, if nothing else.

Solo: One, killing off Val Beckett was a huge mistake. It’s not story breaking or anything like that, but doing so when she’s one of very few black women in Star Wars and half of one of, like, two interracial couples in the entire franchise means that it hits in a way it wouldn’t if she was someone else. So, yeah, don’t like that. Two, the rest of this movie is a blast and audiences just hate fun. I don’t care that no one asked for this movie, it’s fun and campy and there’s a heist and I like it. Three, Enfys Nest has the sickest armor design in the whole franchise and I need more of her.

Kenobi: So…maybe unpopular opinion here, but…I really like Kenobi. Kenobi’s a delight. It’s not perfect, it’s got some problems, but I like that it’s about a guy who’s that depressed and alone slowly regaining his sense of hope, I like that we had something focus on Leia for a while (because Anakin and Padme had two kids and Leia always gets left second string), I like that you’ve got grifters like Haja and former imperials doing what little bits they can to help even though they can’t fight the whole empire. And I know that thoughts are mixed on this, but I actually thought it made a couple bits of A New Hope make more sense where Leia is concerned; kid me could never figure out how she knew who Ben Kenobi was when that was the name he only went by in exile on Tattooine (“Ben Kenobi? Where is he!?”), and it kind of made the switch from the very formal request for aid on behalf of her father to the more personal, “Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi,” a little more poignant, for me, anyway. Reva is an amazing character, she’s a perfect parallel and eventually perfect foil for Anakin, she’s a mess and a he’s in pain and I just. I love her. I have mixed feelings on the live action Grand Inquisitor’s performance (and mixed feelings on the makeup—on the one hand it could be better and on the other hand the other main live action pau’an we’ve got—the actor’s head was just shaped like that). Nevertheless, this show for me was mostly about the big emotional beats, and it hit all of those really well.

The Bad Batch: This is a magnificent show and I adore it apart from That One Thing and the fact that everything was left completely open, even going into the epilogue, apart from Omega’s coming of age and the Hunter’s and Omega’s relationship’s arc. That was resolved very well. I am mildly insane about this show. I love it. Also, it vexes me. Tied with two other shows as my favorite Star Wars show in spite of all that. Amazing soundtrack. Sidebar: If it turns out I’m right and That One Thing is an extended fake out and we’re not quite done with these characters, I’m sorry, but I’m going to be the most insufferable person alive.

The Acolyte: Everyone is very pretty and just a little stupid. Mae is very fun. The good scenes are very, very good. The writing is pretty uneven; judging from interviews I have a completely different view of writing than Leslye Headland and had a hard time picking up why a lot of the characters did anything, but when it hit, it hit. It’s…very CW drama, which isn’t a bad thing—just not always my thing. That said, Sol is a fascinating concept for a character and Lee Jung-jae did an incredible job with what he was given. Same with Qimir and Manny Jacinto. It’s honestly not my favorite Star Wars show, but I’m still disappointed that it looks like it’s not moving forward. The leftover story might end up being folded into the high republic book series, but I still hope we get some kind of on-screen continuation. I think the public needs more of Darth Babe the Jacked.

Rogue One: It’s great. Yes, the entire main cast dies, but the central message was still about hope. Vader gets to pun. I remain somewhat dismayed that the only thing a portion of the audience took away from it was that the Vader hallway scene was cool. He’s a horror movie monster there. Still a great movie. (Also, Saw, why do you have that??)

Young Jedi Adventures: This skews very young; most Star Wars is for kids in the first place apart from Andor, the Acolyte, and mmaaaaaybe the Tales of anthology (the other live action shows are, in my opinion, solidly whole family), but this really is made for very young children. That said, I have watched it, and it’s a very well done show for very young kids. Also I would die and kill for Nubs.

The “Tales Of” anthology series: Yes, I am counting this as one, because even though there’s a shift in focus from the Jedi to the empire between seasons, it all follows the exact same format and structure. I’d argue this series is the one that’s primarily for the adults who either grew up watching Star Wars animation or got into it as adults. It’s good, lots of atmosphere, the episodes do range in quality but I generally like them, and it’s nice they get to play around with different techniques, like making miniatures and incorporating them into the animation. The Dooku and Barriss episodes are probably my favorites.

Ahsoka: I know the fandom is divided on this, like they are on most things, but I love this one, okay? It’s not perfect, but I have a good time watching it. It just happens to be this perfect blend of campy, fun, dramatic, and mystical that really feels like Star Wars for me. I like it when Star Wars gets weird, has silly little guys, and doesn’t take itself too seriously. Lucky for me that this series has extragalactic travel via whale, Ahsoka being dragged to Force Therapy by Anakin, and Ezra hanging out with the space fraggles. That, and I love some of the concepts. I like the idea that force sensitivity isn’t the be all end all, that connecting to the force is something you can learn with practice even if you weren’t blessed with the genetic lottery. Peridea and the space it occupies in folklore is neat. And the music is wonderful. It is a little uneven, it’s not Andor or anything quite that amazing, but I’m eager for more.

Visions: This anthology is fantastic and you’re missing out if you haven’t seen it. I don’t love every entry, but even the weaker ones are worth seeing once, and the stronger ones are worth seeing a whole lot more than that. It’s a great blend of styles and takes from people normally not involved in creating Star Wars. This is in a three way tie for my favorite Star Wars show.

Rebels: Again, it’s not perfect, because no show is, but I also think it’s the strongest standalone show Star Wars has besides Andor. Yes, there are weaker episodes, but on the whole it’s remarkably consistent, and the second half of season four might be some of my favorite Star Wars outside of parts of the original trilogy. Also, it has some stunning backgrounds, and while the art style doesn’t always work for every character, the character animation ends up really hitting its stride towards the end of the second season, and just gets better from there. And, as always, the music is fantastic. Rebels rounds out that three way tie for my favorite Star Wars show along with TBB and Visions.

[evelynpr]

For prev's tags, I'm really saying like-

"Izuku is incredibly caring and loving to people even to those who hurt him" and "Izuku is concerningly obsessed and freaky, and quite arrogant/self righteous" and "Izuku is self sacrificial and destructive" and "Izuku feels satisfaction and desire for power and violence" are all statements that can coexist.

Middle school bakudeku was like, Horrible bully x Freaky stalker wasn't it because holy shit Deku really was freaky as hell-

The guy knows his moves, stance, food habits, SHOWER AND SLEEP ROUTINE??? WHAT THE FUCK MAN-

To be clear, the Smash comics aren't Canon canon. This is just another way of understanding bkdk's dynamic and progression.

[sboochi]

Listen, I like the idea of human!Star as much as the next person, but that's the point. I like the idea in my head.

To be honest, if this was the direction the creative team had gone with, I probably wouldn't enjoy it to this level. So it can stay in my head.

Anyway, I liked the movie! More opinions down below.

People are acting like it's the biggest disgrace ever happened to the animation industry and it feels..... so over-dramatic?? The movie isn't perfect, of course, but chill, have y'all forgotten about the emoji movie???

Also reading some people's comments feels like they don't want anyone to enjoy the movie, which sucks. I mean, I checked the tag here and it was An Experience.

Personally I liked:

Asha's little friend group! "But they don't have a real personality" boohoo the httyd and big hero 6 gangs didn't have more than 1 trait and nobody ever complained this much

The visuals were gorgeous. I guess this is personal taste but I LOVED the watercolor-esque backgrounds

I liked the songs, especially At all costs and This wish. I don't have a problem with the lyrics because I haven't listened to the soundtrack in English, but I've never really cared about lyrics anyway

Magnifico was a delight (evil arc my beloved)

There are a few things I would have handled differently, but again, it's taste:

Please let us have a protagonist with a very different personality from the usual Disney Heroine. Give me shy, give me nerd, give me sassy

I was hoping the queen's decision to side with Asha would be harder to make. I would have showed her struggle with her love for Magnifico and her people, I want the d r a m a

Poor Asha's mom deserved better

I know it's frustrating seeing all this negativity, but I think it'll die down with time. People were shitting on Moana and Zootopia too, at first. Hating this movie with passion is just the latest trendy opinion (you know those. You've probably seen them on tiktok)

(Please note I'm only talking about Wish. The "Disney the company" topic is too big for one post)

TLDR Wish isn't perfect, people just like to be mean. You're allowed to like it, whether others agree or not

[heartbeat-eras]

Just a little exercise.. right?

TLDR - I’m newly on meds and my heart. Well she doesn’t seem to like them. I did three rounds of 20 squats. After trying to get her to calm down (spoliers she didn’t) I laid down. This caused an immediate extreme drop. I then did a push which brought her into the 60s. I don’t think she threw any pvcs but you be the judge.

————————

If you saw my intro post you would know that I’ve recently been prescribed dexadrine. Dexadrine is an amphetamine that can raise blood pressure and heart rate. In my other post I thought it was high time I tested my Heart’s response to these meds. I know she’s been a lot more poundy and faster than normal but.. I thought I would do some of my own tests.

Firstly was tracking her all night with a chest strap monitor. I followed this up with taking my meds before getting out of bed and waiting for them to kick in. The result was exactly in the small range they said it should be. So my faster rate is clearly the meds and my heart working against gravity.

I’ve been looking into if exercising on meds is safe. There are split opinions if you should do it after / before or if you can do it while medication is in your system. I decided to try a small run. Let me preface this with a couple of years ago I was a runner. My heart always was reactive and fast to exercise but not like what happened here.

So imagine. I’ve put on my workout gear. Taped my Stemoscope to the loudest part of chest and go into the room with the treadmill. I set up my chest strap monitor with the treadmill. Perfect.. she’s beating at 142 and I haven’t done anything. I start the Stemoscope recording. 2 mins standing with her pounding away - not yet exercising. Ok this is gonna be fun. At 2 mins jump on at a brisk walk. She immediately drops to 113 - no there’s not wrong with the monitor. I can hear her. Then she slowly climbs. 117, 124, 131 and back to 142 and beyond. Within 1 1/2 mins we’re at 156. I’m not tired or out of breath but I also know I probably shouldn’t do this for long so I think- ok let’s try max her out. I break into a jog. Nothing like I used to, but a slow recovery run. She’s climbing and fast. Within a short space of time she’s now in the beating at 182 - I usually couldn’t feel beats like this before but I can feel her rocking my chest. I’m oddly out of breath for something I used to be able to sustain for over an hour. I jump off and bend over, trying to catch my breath. My heart thrashing in both my chest and my ears. My head spinning as I try to get her oxygen. I’m watching the number on the treadmill with the little heart next it. It’s not going down. It’s going up. At 187 she peaks and is pounding away. This is 2 mins after ceasing activity. She drop quite quickly.. not this time I guess.

I grab my gear and go back to my room. She’s settled a little bit. She keeps calming down then speeding back up. Down to 151 then up to 176. She’s all over the place like she doesn’t know what she’s meant to do.

Well that’s enough. I need to take some stress off her. I lay down, resulting in an immediate drastic drop to around 100. Finally. The break she needed. I go back to the recording… and we’ll I deleted in my zoned out state.

So this time I’ve recorded some squats. I was only able to get her into the 170s but you can hear just how unconditioned she sounds. This was not what she like pre meds and I will be asking my doctor about this when I see him next (well maybe leave out the constant stething). A part of me is slightly worried about this, whereas another part of me is like…. Oooo well. That’s a fun sound . Damn cardiophile thoughts right?

I hope you enjoy her first try (tech second) at exercise. She would love to hear your thoughts and support. She’s literally pounding in my ears as I share her with you.

[boynarcing]

Instead of posting pointless callouts, use your brains.

tldr: some of yall need to learn what a fucking block button is

Genuinely what is so hard about pressing the block button? Like omg I promise no one cares about your fuckass callout posts or rants. Like some of these people are embarrassing as hell. If you get triggered by shit on the internet, it’s YOUR decision on wether or not you want to interact or block and move on with your life. Like brother, i’m not going to throw a fit and freak out over some post that just so happened to contain weird shit on it. You know what I do? I MOVE ON WITH MY LIFE. Because I got better shit to worry about than some random ass fic on tumblr.

You like ddlg? Cool. Doesn’t hurt me or anyone, I don’t care. You like incest? Good for you! You like noncon? Okay! Like do y’all see how easy it is to just smile and nod? Trust, policing what people post and enjoy, is not going to change shit. It’s just annoying as fuck. People pick and choose, because some of the shit you all consume wouldn’t be considered normal either, going by what you all say.

According to all of your logic, blood kinks, knife kinks, gun kinks, piss kinks, and etc. should not be normalized either. Murder shouldn’t be written about, especially gore. Which is fucking moronic, considering how RE is built on violence and gore. Please, learn how to separate fiction from reality.

Many people are fans of iconic slasher films and horror movies. Michael Myers is a rapist and a murderer. But guess what? No one CARES! Because he’s not REAL. I could go on with so much more examples, but you should get the point by now. Hopefully. Dark content is everywhere, why is it now that it’s weird? Makes no fucking sense.

I get that some of you don’t want your precious white boy’s image to be tainted or defamed or whatever, but trust, Leon Kennedy is not reading these fics nor would he care. ‘He’s not a rapist or into incest!’, well he also wouldn’t call you ‘sweetheart’ or whatever cheesy bs fluff fics contain nowadays. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? It’s all OOC. We KNOW he’s not a horrible person or an incredibly affectionate lover, but people write whatever they want. And no one’s going to stop them! Not the posts clogging up the tags or the weird asks.

There’s so much more, but the main arguments that keep being repeated are ‘it’s weird’ and ‘if you write about it, you’re probably going to do it in real life’. That take is so fucking stupid I can’t help but laugh. Same bs as white moms claiming their son is going to shoot some place out just because he plays violent video games. The whole point? SEPARATE FICTION FROM REALITY. And if you don’t like something? IGNORE IT? Why are you willingly engaging like omg are you stupid or dumb.

OH AND. ‘kids could see this!’ When will you all learn that no matter what you do, you cannot control what a person sees or decides to interact with. Especially minors. I’m willing to bet half of a smut writers followers are minors. Guess what? People lie all the time, about their ages and whatever else. It’s the fucking internet, of course they do. It’s not the responsibility of the blog owner to take care of children. The most they could do is plaster a big fat MDNI on their blog, that’s it. It’s the job of the parents to control what their kid watches or consumes, and we can’t exactly help with that. So don’t pretend to gaf about minors like omg.

Anyways. I’m too lazy to continue writing like I just needed to say this because some of you are slow. Me and many others are going to continue to write whatever the fuck we want. In conclusion? Block if you don’t like it LMAO. I don’t care about what some rando has to say on the internet.

[tozettastone]

What do you think Kakuzu enjoys/appreciates about Hidan in their relationship? And vice versa?

TLDR: TWO POORLY SOCIALISED CHARACTERS BEING POORLY SOCIALISED TOGETHER.

--

They're both very self centred people. Each man prefers the qualities in his partner which he also thinks are positive in himself.

Kakuzu likes Hidan's disregard for social bonds and persistent character (even though it annoys him to work around it) and admires his capacity for e-rated graphic violence. He clearly thinks of Hidan as a competent partner — that's why he's able to easily say things like "You're seriously underestimating Hidan," when Shikamaru draws him away from the fight with Kakashi.

I think Kakuzu also likes that Hidan is immortal. When he says that money is the most important thing, compared to bonds with other people or ideology, it's cost that Kakuzu has big problems with trusting the integrity of his interpersonal relationships. Aside from his off-screen history where his important social connections betrayed him (from his perspective), we can also extrapolate this from him being over 90 and still a ninja — most of his interpersonal relationships would have passed. Hidan could last forever, though, he's so poorly socialised that the likelihood of him making high quality relationships with anyone seems extraordinarily low. This is one of the reasons why Kakuzu likes his disregard for social bonds. It is way less stressful for Kakuzu to be attached to someone that cannot be forcibly taken from him, I think.

Even when Kakuzu says, like, we all die sometime, he's comforting himself with the impermanence of their relationship. He doesn't want anyone to take it from him but he also doesn't want to feel trapped by his commitment. What an exhausting man.

I think Hidan's feelings are a lot more romantic and poetic than Kakuzu's. He's a more romantic character. But they're still like... very similar.

Hidan likes that Kakuzu is an immortality trailblazer and looks up to him as an authority. He sees the things about Kakuzu that also exist in himself as beautiful: the deviations from humanity, the violence (even though Kakuzu uses it as a means to an end, and for Hidan violence IS the end), his capricious temper. Hidan has had few role models he really respects — that's why his entire history is very "abandoned his unworthy companions, sought inspiration in god, did some murder." He's poorly connected to other people. He relates strongly to Kakuzu because they're both bad at social connections, they share skills and some interests, and Kakuzu is older and provides a model of what immortality might look like in 69 years.

Hidan also trusts Kakuzu, which is interesting. He trusts him to let him take on fights, he trusts him to pick up pieces of his body and stitch them back together, and he even trusts his situational judgement — for example, when Ino is scouting for them, Kakuzu senses something and turns towards where he thinks she might be. Hidan clearly doesn't sense anything. But he immediately stops and waits for Kakuzu. He assumes, not that Kakuzu is jumping at shadows, but rather that he has spotted something that has escaped Hidan's senses.

Anyway.... hmm, how to wrap this up... oh, I know. Headcanon incoming: Hidan views Kakuzu's serial heart-stealing as his own little ritual. He's a bit patronising about how Kakuzu doesn't recognise it when it's soooo obvious to Hidan. The heart donor dies, and then Kakuzu carries their beating heart with him until it gives out or someone "kills" it, and then he also feels the death he granted them. Clearly a Jashinist ritual by another name.

ETA: I guess they also both think large violent men are hot. Like. Obviously. I don't know if Hidan is into the tentacles for like a deep psychological reason relating to his childhood or whatever... but he's definitely into the tentacles.

[budbuddnbuddy]

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pt2

A/n: I thought of this while rotting away in bed like the loser I am, enjoy. Also tell me if yall want a pt2.

TLDR: Someone tried to kill you and your main hoes are not happy 💀

It’s stupidly funny when you think about it. Someone actually being dumb enough to try to kill you, at RAD of all places.

Though….maybe you were the dumb one, to think that you would be safe after your pact with Mammon. Sure he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed but he’s still one of the strongest demons in the Devildom, one of the strongest demons that was under your control.

That was only really made clear to you after demons, not only at RAD, stopped imitating you and talking openly about how they wanted to eat you and how Mammon started sticking by your side way more than usual. He played it off as Demon pact etiquette which was probably true now that you thought about it.

Sooner or later with each pact you made with the brothers the less Demons were actually trying or suggesting to kill you. In fact you were gaining some respect with each pact you made.

Guess when it was announced that you finally made a pact with Lucifer, you thought you had made it clear that you were of important status and finally cleared off the demons who wanted your neck slit.

Turns out they never left, they just hid and waited for the right moment.

It happened at a party at RAD, a good chunk of RAD’s students were there along with some of the friends you had made, along with the brothers, Lord Diavolo and Barbatos, and the other exchange students that were at RAD. It almost felt like a prom night.

Then gunshots were fired.

You fell onto the table of food spilled everything onto the floor, drinks, sweets, plates, bowls. Everything crumbled and broke around your limp body and everyone around you scattered.

You were out of it for a second but when your eyes finally allowed you to see, everything was shaking and blurry. It was so hard to breathe and- was that….blood?

Lights were broken and flashing on and off, people were running around and ducking under tables, you looked around to do the same and then heard a voice of a angel.

“….C! ….MC! MC!”

Literally.

You looked over to the side and saw Luke with tears in his eyes, his head peaked from under the table cloth and he waved at you to hide with him.

You didn’t want to put him in danger but that was really your only option at the moment however as soon and you lifted yourself up to crawl over, second bullet was shoot into your back.

Don’t you just have the best of luck?

You screamed in agony and people ran around more, you almost passed out again from the pain that was at the back of your head and your back itself. Muffled yells of Diavolo and Lucifer flowed into your ears and heavy stomps and running were heard from upstairs.

You settled for shuffling against the floor with the little strength you had, to get under the table with Luke, it was still hard to see but you could still tell that he had been crying, hard.

You coughed a little bit of blood, only making more tears roll down Luke’s cheeks. Everything was getting harder to see, you could hear Luke screaming at you to not die and the last thing you thought before you passed out?

‘I knew this was gonna happen.’

Lucifer

He was standing by Diavolo and Barbatos on the second floor when it happened, glancing back and forth at you every now and then.

You were only with Luke and some of your friends. None of his brothers were near you, Beel was looking for Belphie, Asmo and Satan were on the dance floor, Mammon was just finishing up a game of cards against some other demons and Leviathan was on his D.D.D in the corner.

Just as he was finishing up his conversation with Diavolo a loud gunshot was fired followed by crashing of multiple plates and bowls against the floor, his head shot back to look at where the bullet was fired at but everyone was running around and causing havoc.

When he finally looked down his face twisted into horror as his eyes laid upon you with the back of your head blown out, slumped over a bunch foods and liquids from the food table.

He screamed your name and directed Diavolos and Barbatos attention towards your unconscious body.

He searched in desperation for your attacker but was only met with screams of demons and crowds of people pushing each other for safety.

He did some pushing himself until he finally witnessed the man responsible for lodging a bullet in your head put another one in your back.

Lucifer shouted at him in rage and sprinted toward him Diavolo followed and the man made a break for it.

They followed him through crowds of demons however as soon as they saw who they were chasing the ran in the opposite direction giving them more space to run freely at the man.

He was getting faster and Diavolo and Lucifer had to go into their demonic forms to catch up with him but just as they did Beel stepped out of the room in confusion and Lucifer yelled at him.

“Beel! Stop him!!! Put him to the ground!”

He almost didn’t have to say anything because as soon as Beel laid eyes on him, he already had him in a armlock onto the floor.

With your attacker restrained by Beel, Lucifer sped downstairs to look for you, he cried out for you twice before he was waved over by mammon from under a table.

He threw the table out of the way and there he was met with the sight of your unconscious body laid over Mammon and Luke who were both crying over you.

He was about to scream at someone to call a ambulance but when the sirens were heard from outside he picked you up and rushed you out with Mammon and Luke following behind him.

When you woke up in the hospital he was already shushing you back to sleep, it had taken 4 days but you were back and that’s all he need to know for now.

Only the best Doctors and nurses in the Devildom would be at your aid, only the very best for his human.

Mammon

He was just about to go talk to you, he was almost done with this game, just one last move and he’ll collect all the money he won, show off to you, impress you, then marry you-

His a opponent just placed down a card when the first bullet ran through the back of your head. He turned over to make sure you were okay but be screamed as soon as he witnessed you tumble over the buffet table and bring everything on it crashing onto the floor.

He dashed towards you, just in time before demons started running around in fear. He pulled you out of the mess you were in and teared up at the sight of you.

He attempted to shake you wake but eventually the crowd of demons swam through the two of you and pulled mammon far away enough from you to the point where he couldn’t even remember were you were at.

He ducked from under table after table attempting to make his way back to you. Then the second shot came and he flinched causing him to be swept away by the crowd of running demons a second time however he was lucky enough for it to be brought right towards you and Luke.

He found you passed out with your head in Luke’s lap, he was hugging your head tightly and crying over you. He looked at Mammon in desperation and begged for him to help you.

“Pluh-Please! *Hic*Don’t let them die! Help them, Mammon! Please don’t let them die! Please!!”

He tore up his jacket to use as a make shift badge for the wound on your head, he was just about to destroy the rest of it up, but he heard Lucifer shouting your name and peaked from underneath the table to call him over.

He ran after Lucifer to bring you over to the ambulance and took Luke with him, probably what you would’ve wanted anyway, and rode with him all the way to the hospital.

He was there for the surgery they did, stayed there from the beginning until the end. When you were in your short coma he stayed at the hospital, even slept there right beside you.

He did everything he could to help you get better, only time he was away from you was when he took a shower.

Leviathan brought extra clothes for him and stayed along with him towards the end of your stay at the hospital, something he’s extremely grateful for.

He was right there when you opened your eyes, he was staring down at you when it happened and he became teary eyed when you looked up at him.

“You’re…..alive. Oh fuck you’re alive..!”

He slammed down onto the call button for the nurse and pressed a long kiss against your lips.

Mammon became your personal nurse at home and helped you get back on your feet when you were discharged. He’s so bbg

Leviathan

Now y’all already know that parties were never Levi’s thing.

However this particular event required him to be there plus you were gonna be there too so he really didn’t have a choice in the matter.

He couldn’t dance nor could he just walk up and start a conversation with people so he just settled on gaming on his D.D.D until you were available to drag away for an hour or two.

He was starting to get needy for your attention, when he looked up the only person that was by you was Luke.

Then the back of your head was blown out.

He froze in shock and fear as he watched as people scramble away from you when you fell onto the buffet table.

Guns in the Devildom were extremely dangerous, the soul purpose of them was to kill and if you had one, you were definitely trying to kill someone.

The bullet was lodged in the back of your head and knocked you out instantly meaning only two things 1. You were already dead 2. There was a limited amount of time before you would die.

Soon as that information registered into his brain and he saw that Mammon gotten to you, he dashed into the bathroom and called for ambulance, he told them all about the situation how you had been shot in the back of the head and you needed help immediately.

*BANG*

He flinched as he headed a second gunshot and his eyes widened when he heard your scream of agony.

This time he didn’t hesitate to tell the operator that you were shot once again.

He was still in the bathroom when Lucifer was yelling downstairs for you but he stayed just in case to be safe.

After about 5 minutes he left to go outside and was met with Lucifer and Mammon in the ambulance closing the doors and driving off.

He got the news that you were in the hospital and you were in a coma a day after your surgery. You were stable thankfully.

He just stayed in your room for most of the time, cleaning and setting up your room with Satan, going grocery shopping to make sure you had all your favorite foods and snacks at home, he even did your laundry!

Mammon was still at the hospital with you so he brought some clothes and some food for him over to the hospital and stayed there for the rest of the time.

When you finally woke up, he was just walking back from the bathroom and Mammon yelled for him to get over there.

“They’re awake! Levi, they’re back and they’re alive!”

He hugged your stomach and cried into your chest for a long long time.

When you were finally discharged he and Satan presented you with your favorite meal in bed then gamed and read to you to keep you company. bbg #2

[greenerteacups]

forever grateful to you for sharing your musings, as if the book writing weren't great enough and hard work enough, you truly spoil us and i love you.

I'm popping in here to ask if you would like to talk about how you see Dumbledore. Sometimes I feel his manipulative side is abused in fanfiction, depicting little more than a heartless chess master.

And well, I guess I'm curious to find out if Lionheart Albus has a heart and will we get to see it. Maybe the more generous glimpses you give us of Snape and his interactions with him will shed some light on his hidden depths? Or will his appearances remain fleeting and enigmatic, always far and above all the little people we do know and adore?

Sorry, I know you can't possibly be completely balanced in your portraying of the whole cast, or they would spread too thin. I am here for the plot, for the Dramione and the Blacks, but I deeply enjoy all the character building (I truly live for all of them, not only our loved ones, I even cherish Warrington with sincere hate and am waiting for his comeuppance ) so I thought I would ask if you wouldn't mind a few comments on our opaque headmaster.

Thank you, friend! You're really kind.

Dumbledore has a relatively minor role in Lionheart for a few reasons — chief among which is, as you point out, that we just don't have time for everybody to get the same level of characterization the mains do. I have plot justifications for that, but it'd be disingenuous to suggest otherwise: Dumbledore's minor because I'm less interested in him than I am in Snape and Narcissa, and Lionheart is much more about Draco's sphere of the world than Harry's. That being said, I think some people forget how small Dumbledore's role is in the original books. He pretty much exists to deliver exposition and tell Harry how to beat the final boss; dude doesn't even get a gesture at a backstory until he's already dead. In fact, it's kinda weird to me that everyone (including a lot of people in the series) treats Dumbledore like he's some kind of guardian for Harry, especially with respect to the decision to keep him at the Dursleys. I know it's set up in the prologue, but if I'm Dumbledore, and I'm catching strays for Vernon Dursley being a piece of shit, I'm gonna be like:

The TLDR on Dumbledore is he's blamed way too much for stuff he doesn't do instead of the stuff he does. People seem to blame him for everything bad that happens to Harry because he's a competent adult in the general vicinity of the kid. But with the possible exception of hiring Lockhart — a bad decision I attribute to Early Installment Weirdness and, just maybe, a certain scarcity of applicants for a position where the last dude Literally Fucking Died — there's not a whole lot of shit that happens to Harry in the first few books Dumbledore could've prevented. Plus, he does in fact have Other Shit to be Doing. Is he a really powerful wizard who probably could've saved Harry's ass in a lot of the fights he gets into? Yes. Does he also have a whole school to run, a secret guerrilla group to direct, a Ministry full of political enemies to placate, and — oh yeah — a snake-faced immortal evil sorcerer he's playing 4D chess with at all times? Yes!

The whole lamb-to-slaughter thing with Harry is admittedly quite dark, but I don't read it as machiavellian. For one, Dumbledore obviously comes to this conclusion after a lot of deliberation, and to his death, he refuses to tell Harry about it, because (one assumes) he never intends to kill Harry himself. He's willing to hinge the fate of the free world on his respect for Harry's autonomy and/or his faith that Harry will make the "right" choice. That's pretty humane, given the circumstances. And he holds off on telling Harry about the horcruxes because... he doesn't want to inform a literal child that he'll eventually have to kill himself for the war effort. Oh, GOD, what a SCHEMING MONSTER. Surely this is motivated by menace, and not the grieving reluctance of a seasoned veteran who wants to preserve whatever few years of happiness this kid can eke out of life.

The areas where Dumbledore is morally shady come out most in his interactions with other adults. His conversation with Severus in 1981, for instance, is the one time in the books where I was legitimately frightened of him, because it's a rare time he's completely without mercy or grace. "What will you give me in return, Severus?" is a character-defining line, because Snape has just told him that two twenty-somethings and their infant child are about to be murdered, and Dumbledore's hit back with the subtextual equivalent of: "Tough shit. Why is it my problem?" Which is COLD AS FUCK! And we can kind of infer that he's not in earnest here, that he's manipulating Severus by making him think Dumbledore won't protect the Potters (even though they're Order members, which this theory requires us to assume Severus doesn't know) so that he can get him to work as a spy — but we don't know that for certain, right? It's all inference. We hope that his implicit threat isn't genuine, but what would happen if Severus said no, and walked away? How much did Albus understand about Snape's feelings for Lily, and what kind of person does it take to bluff like that in front of a known Legilimens? That line is intimidating as fuck whether or not Albus means it.

It's bits like these, where he's talking to people that he actually dislikes, where we get hints of the real Machiavellian Albus Dumbledore, and it's absolutely fascinating. He's the veteran of two wars, going on three when he dies, and you can tell in how he conducts himself. That includes, by the way, his gentility with children and his respect for innocence. But he's not just Good Funny Grandfather Dude or Crafty Mastermind. He's a general. He's been waging wars from the back lines since his twenties. That does something to your brain, and it doesn't leave a lot of you left over for anything else.

[jojo-schmo]

what are your personal favorite headcanons for meta knight?

Boy, oh BOY am I glad you asked!! You have unleashed me!!

First of all, I am very much Team White-Eyed Meta!!! (And his pretty pink cheeks!!!!!) -slams my drawing from last year on the table as exhibit A-

I respect everyone on Team Yellow-Eyed Meta since that's what is technically canon. But I just think drawing white eyes is so fun and pretty to look at... My first Kirby game was Squeak Squad and I was so mesmerized by his pretty white eyes when they were revealed for that split second! I'd replay that boss fight a bunch as a kid just to see them.

So yeah, I have the power to be in denial about a few facts for my own amusement and that's one of them. Draw and consume the content that makes you happiest, friends!! :P

About his backstory and origins, I don't have any solid headcanons of my own since I really like seeing other people's takes on it! Being Dark Matter-born, made by Nightmare, blending anime and game lore together, etc. There's so much I enjoy! His mysterious past can be frustratingly open-ended but at least it's given a lot of people the opportunity to be super creative!

I do like to think he gets more enjoyment out of a good, honest battle than he likes to let on. I mean, it's what he's best at! He fights for fun! An entire arena was built for him in Waddle Dee Town!

...So speaking of fighting, I've been doing some thinking about his powers... Like a lot of thinking. This is what I really wanna talk about!!

He's got some good old-fashioned, hard-earned skill with a sword. Probably from years of training. But his more powerful attacks use a lot of wind and electricity. That's why I think Meta Knight has the power of Storms.

Some examples of his use of wind:

One of his signature moves is Mach Tornado, after all!

Now, the bat effect to his spin in RtDL Deluxe kinda puzzles me. It just looks cooler I guess. This is a dude who put his face on his airship so why not have tiny bat particles come from your signature moves? Could just be a natural evolution of his power growing stronger, teehee.

Anyway, here are some examples of his use of electricity: (This man has a LOT of electric effects in his attacks!)

So much electricity!! Zappo! Bzzzzt!

And as a bonus, when Meta unsheathes Galaxia in the anime it materializes from lightning. THAT IS DOPE AS HELL. I don't personally subscribe to much of the anime lore, but I eat this detail UP.

Next, I used to think Meta had telekinesis because of Star Allies. All that purple aura when he lifts the rocks seems like solid evidence.

But then he does the same move in Forgotten Land and he's actually lifting the rocks with wind!! And a lot of it!! So his mastery of wind is significant to me! Probably helps him fly better too! I think his use of wind could certainly give his opponents the impression that he has telekinesis and psych them out a bit!

Finally, I used to think his duplication move was because of the Jamba Heart in Star Allies but I realized he does this in the Kirby Mass Attack mini game (whose canonicity is probably up for debate, but hey.) I'm willing to hear someone else out for an explanation because I'm stumped! Lol :P

....So yeah!! TLDR I think he is a swordsman with the power of Storms!

I'm interested to see other people's takes on him, this is just what I've made up for myself, haha! Either way, I love Meta Knight and he is super cool!! Thanks for reading!!

[giveafike]

Hiii i love your dominic fike works :,) and i was wondering if you’d write a nsfw alphabet for ben shelton? preferably fem reader but if you think something else would work better then that’s cool too 🤞

TLDR: NSFW alphabet! I borrowed the format from other NSFW alphabets I've seen round here.

Warnings + Content Ahead: fem reader! NSFW, Minors DNI! There's a bit of everything in here, mentions of cum, light bondage, throatplay, fingering, masturbation, oral sex, thighriding, toys, moaning if that's anything to warn about - just read w caution if NSFW is a touchy subject! Nothing too crazy or wild here.

Azzie Notes ✚: !!! Bro, tell me why there’s actually no NSFW Ben content here?? And he’s literally so hot?? I was losing my mind during Laver Cup and now I’m losing it after seeing the sleeve on his left arm at Japan Open.

Anyways, this should go wo saying: all assumptions and guesses, girl idfk anything!!! I’m just daydreaming!! I hope I don’t repeat myself too much throughout this but erm..yeah! Enjoy!

P.S. IJBOL I'm writing this while watching Fils v Shelton rn pls im so unsrs. Do send in requests! I have a couple of ADORABLEEE ANON BEN REQS AND IM SCREAMINGGG send more, im so feral for a cute moment. The support and reception I got on my big old long Ben post has been so sweet, you all are so sweet bless u all 😽

————————————————————————

NSFW Alphabet - B.T.S.

A: aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I'd like to think Ben is very caring after sex, he acts first before he says anything. Things like asking if you're okay, if he was good for you, fetching some water for you, (carrying you if you can't walk after bc let's be honest here...you prob can’t walk after all that) ahem, ordering food and getting you comfy first - just a bunch of acts of service before he settles down and smothers you in kisses all over your face and shoulders and mumbling i-love-yous. He'd play with your hair with a lazy smile and smitten eyes and tell you that you're amazing and how much he cares for you and how he loves to show you just how much he loves you.

B: body part (their fave body part on their own body + fave body part on your body)

Ben knows he's handsome and he def knows what he's does to us lmao, but I think what he loves most on his own body would be his arms and his abs. Not only is it a testament to his hard work and dedication to tennis and training, but seeing how you'd react when you get a glimpse of his slick, sweaty abs halfway through a game would make him go feral. But what he loves even more is when you hold onto his bicep when you're out together, or how you dig your nails into his shoulders when he's deep in you.

If I'm being fr I think Ben is a "bit of everything" rather than an ass/boobs guy. If you are out in public, he has his arm thrown over your shoulder or tight at your waist, or you're holding onto his arm. In private, I think he loves you siting on his lap for movie nights, holding your hips while you ride him, palming your breasts when you're making out with him, tapping your ass when he walks by you, rubbing his hand over you thighs and planting soft kisses up and down your legs - like, he loves every inch of you all the time and BAD. He shows it so clearly with his deeds, he just can't keep his hands off of you. He sees you as nothing but perfect and worships you with his hands and lips.

C: cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I think when you first experiment together, he wouldn't want to cum on your face, but instead would do it on your back after doggy or on your chest or your stomach, or finish off in your mouth - something about seeing you a bit messy and decorated in his cum would turn him on even after he came. But over time and with trust, he'd find himself obsessed with finishing in you. The feeling of you both reaching your climaxes together in full height would drive him crazy - knowing he was the only one able to fill you the way he does and having your mixed arousal pool out of you was just another realm of pleasure.

Ben would be a fan of having you ride his face until you couldn't handle it anymore. Something about his face being soaked with your cum while you moan and grind down on him over and over again, and then seeing you lie down beside him afterwards with half-lidded eyes and shivering after all that would be more than enough to get him off. Same sentiment for fingering too, he'd be so pleased seeing your arousal coating his fingers, like seeing just how worked up you are for him every time would be unbelievable to him each and every time.

D: dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Ben's into car sex. But especially if you're going somewhere special. Something about dressing up for an event/date and getting his sexy partner into his sexy sports car would drive him wild with the idea of pulling you over to the driver seat and having you ride him right then and there.

I think he's also into you trying to take control or being a brat just so he can flip it around and put you in your place - especially with some spanking or teasing, making you beg for permission to cum - nothing extreme just enough to make you whimper and submit 🙂‍↕️.

E: experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I don't think Ben has tons of experience imo. He went to college for a bit but he's only 22 with a demanding schedule and doesn't seem to have much dating history either. I feel like he's too focused on himself, his family and friends and his career to be hooking up and going crazy with experimenting. In saying that, he definitely knows what he likes and needs and he can learn quick too.

F: favorite position (this goes without saying)

I think Ben would loveeee holding you in his strong arms as he fucks into you, it'd be so intimate and precious in his eyes, watching your face contort with every thrust and hearing your soft moans roll out right into his ear. He’d want you to keep your eyes locked on his but you’d keep rolling them back in pleasure. He’d love groping your ass or boobs while he held you like that. Ben would also be into doggy, like your face and arms pressed down on the mattress while he holds your hips or grips your hair, bundling it into a very messy ponytail and tugging when he feels himself getting close.

G: goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

We all know Ben's a silly, goofy guy so I believe he wouldn’t be opposed or unlikely to let out a few chuckles with you. It'd be something as silly as him struggling to unclasp your bra or him accidentally slipping out of you that would earn a few small giggles from the both of you. Or maybe you're both drunk and having giggly, sweet sex - just whispering affections, foreheads pressed together, unable to hold in your pure, raw love for each other. It wouldn't ever be out of malice or anything, it would just be how comfortable you two were with each other.

H: hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I think Ben has it trimmed but not bare. He has a little happy trail down that's dark and curly so I imagine it to be the same below too.

I: intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I imagine him to be so intimate and loving. He wants to hear how good you feel, he'll make you talk to him, beg for him. He definitely mixes praise with degradation but on top of all, he loves calling you his - "my pretty slut", "my beautiful mess" , "my girl". He loves making you beg and plead for him, holds your chin and makes you look up at him and plead him to touch you over and over again before he finally gives in and gives his all. He definitely loves taking his time when he can, making sure he doesn’t skimp out on anything and make sure you can feel his pure love for you in every action.

He def would love to have a whole ambiance going; candles, fresh flowers, a bubble bath, fresh sheets, a new lingerie set for you, soft music playing, maybe even try to make a meal for you too and it wouldn't be for special days, sometimes it would be "just because". He loves to tell you that he loves you and would try his absolute best to show it too, through kisses and roaming hands all over your body and trying to make you feel like you're the only girl in the world, because to him you really are.

J: jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He loves you, just thinking about you lying in bed waiting for him would help him get off, thinking of your moans, your voice in bed begging and encouraging him, the way you look at him and hold onto him like he’s your rock; he'd be close to cumming off of the idea of you alone.

If you let him, he'd have a private album of photos and videos of you two together that he'd watch while he's on tour to help him get off, and of course he'd text you right after (sometimes with pictures of the mess he made too) telling you how much he loves and misses you, your touch and your body. If you had the time, he'd also call you while on tour and have phone sex, talking dirty to you and guiding you the entire time and watching how your face and breathy moans through the phone. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and masturbating together while away only meant that sex together would be even more intense and intimate when you reunite.

K: kink (one or more of their kinks)

Ben's huge (both height, strength and well ..size..) so seeing how you take him and how soft you look in comparison to him is a massive kink for him. That size kink of his drives him wild.

I can see light bondage or restraints as a kink too, pinning you down with his hands or using soft cloths to tie your hands together, maybe even covering your mouth or holding your throat for light breathplay at times too.

I think he'd lose it over being told how good he feels and being praised in that sense. Like I said before, he'd love mixing praise and degradation and showing you that you’re his girl, no one else's. He'd love getting you off more than anything as well.

L: location (favorite places to do the do)

In no particular order: his car, the bedroom, the living room, kitchen - hell, even the bathroom right by the sink - anywhere where he can have you all to himself for as long as possible.

I don't think he'd try anything super public, like in a changing room, but if you're both desperate and horny, maybe in a personal gym or locker room for a quickie every now and then but there will be a round 2 when you get back to your bedroom for sure.

M: motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Like I said, he loves you more than anything, literally anything you say or do would get him going. Say the word and Ben is yours and at your service.

Seeing you acting coy or feigning innocence when you’re purposefully turning him on (whether that’s by wearing his favourite sundresses or a new pair of lingerie he bought abroad, “accidentally” touching him through his pants, saying/texting something dirty in his ear while he’s supposed to be focused, list goes on) would arouse him too, especially since he gets to teach you a lesson.

N: no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I expect him to be the jealous type, he wouldn't want to share you with anyone or have anyone else invited for your intimate time together. He wouldn't want to hurt you or do anything you were uncomfortable with; he'd put you first in everything.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves to recieve, loves to give. When you're giving him head, he holds your hair back and wants to see your pretty eyes so badly, might allow you to play with your clit as you hollow out your cheeks for him. Gently asks you to try to take him all and loves hearing the lewd gagging noises as you try to deepthroat him when you hit the back of your throat. He loves having you suck his balls too or run your tongue over his tip and down the veins of his length. He genuinely sees stars when you're working away on him.

He loves to play with you when he gives you head. Teasing licks or humming as he eats you out just to send shivers down your spine. Uses his fingers and tongue to get you off. Once he's in a rhythm and is actually eating you out, he can't help but keep going which only makes you come undone over and over and over again. He thinks you’re delicious and loves watching you writhe for him and grip his curls.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

After tour, I think Ben would try to pace himself and make slow, deep love to you, once again trying to show you just how much he missed every single part and inch of you. Obviously, at a certain point, he'd lose his composure and his eagerness would get the better of him as he quickens his pace but he'd shower you with kisses while he does so.

After a frustrating game, he'd be fast and hold you close to him as he works at a relentless pace (nothing you wouldn't be able to handle, ofc). Lots of hair tugging, spanking, positions, marks and hickeys come with that too. He'd thank you and kiss you over your marks and hickeys after, gently massaging the skin he spanked and having lazy makeouts with you before you both find yourself falling asleep after all that.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies with Ben would be frequent as he just can't help himself! Sometimes in the mornings before practice, you'd have lazy, sloppy, sweet morning sex that always put you to sleep right after.

Maybe even in between practice and his actual games - where he'd bend you over the sofa or the kitchen table, even prop you up against the shower wall when he's supposed to be focusing on the game ahead of him - whatever or wherever it was, those quickies would have you moaning his name in no time, he knew just how to work you right.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I didn't want to mention the locker rooms or personal gyms in the quickie section because i was saving it for this hehe 😝. Ben wouldn't risk doing it if it meant someone would actually probably walk in, he'd only want to have sex with you if you were comfortable to and if it meant it would be uninterrupted.

I imagine Ben making you spread in front of him as you sit on a bench while he kneels to eat you out, covering your mouth or making you suck his fingers to stifle your noise, so you don't get caught.

I think if he was really into it, Ben might even go as far as to buying those remote control vibrators that he can control, just to watch you squirm for him in the stands during his matches or while you were out together for some errands. He'd only take it as far as you wanted to go, though ofc.

s= stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Well, I just watched Ben battle Fils for 3 hours straight at the Japan Open while getting his leg hurt - I think he's got plenty of stamina so long as you can take it. He'd always ask for "one more?" in the sweetest softest voice, especially after you spent time away from each other.

t= toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He'd love seeing how you squirm with vibrators and try buy cutesy toys like fluffy cuffs or a small pink handheld vibrator for you to use while on tour (and to use while on video call with him). I don't think Ben would know much about toys for himself, but if you brought the idea up, he'd try anything for you.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

LOVES to make you beg for just how much you want him. "Say please", "what do you want exactly? Use your words baby, I know you can", "You want more? beg for it", "look at me with those pretty eyes and ask. me. again". And he'd work you up so much, just to say no and watch you pout and beg even more. Ben loves to be in charge and on top, knowing you were in the palm of his hand (when really, he was wrapped around your finger).

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not too loud, he groans and grunts in your ear and lets out a few gasps and curse words out alongside his mix of praise and degradation and i-love-yous. He's vocal with telling you what he wants or needs more of, what feels good and how you feel.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Loves, loves, LOVES you riding his thigh. He'll casually ask you to sit on his lap and watch a movie and both of you knew full well what was going to go down. Loves feeling you grinding desperately against his thigh and seeing you become a mess for a bit of friction. (I'm in the midst of writing smth about thigh riding just u wait 🤭)

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

If a picture paints a thousand words, look at the pics I've attached and look REAL close. He's called Big Ben for a reason babe.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is only on full blast for you. He's constantly hungry for more of you, can't get enough. Like I said, he's whipped for you.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He would hold you tight, make sure you're not hungry or thirsty or uncomfortable before you went to sleep. If something upset you, he'd make sure he understood and talked it out so he wouldn't ever do it again, you're his main priority in everything. If you were sore after, he'd apologise smiling (his ego and pride obv through the roof) and gently massage your thighs and hips, planting soft kisses on your forehead.

He'd hold you til you fell asleep and then he'd fall asleep almost immediately after, knowing you were happy and loved in his arms.

and now we go and pray after all this 🧎‍♀️😽

[pepsiiwho]

The Hulkenberg Problem

Hi metaphor refantazio fans. It's me, your favorite contrarian eyesore. (Advertisers have made me change this opening greeting)

As I've played this game I've found myself enjoying every character, flaws in all (the more flaws the better truthfully) but theres one that for the life of me I just can't get behind. Somehow in a game with characters with single portraits, a few voice lines and little to no significant plot relevance, one of the first confidants you make does nothing for me. I guess I just wanted to air my grievances a bit here and offer hypothetical writing solutions as I see fit. This is an open discussion, somewhat, so feel free to respond to the points shared here, but I'll warn you I don't respond to name calling lmao

Spoilers for end game kinda <3

So, mmm. Where to start.

Blanket statement for this post; TLDR: Hulkenberg feels like the physical manifestation of every problem I have with the game on a thematic and structural level and I think in a tighter story that's more willing to interact with it's chosen subject matter, could make her to be a standout character above the rest.

As I see it, Hulkenberg's (Hulk) story is on its head, really interesting. She was the personal guard of the, at this point in the story, ever elusive and mysterious Prince figure cursed to wither away. We know nothing about the prince save for 3 things:

MC (Will) adores him, for some fucking reason. We're talking a loyalty so strong that he's willing to go on a, self proclaimed, suicide mission to reinstate him.

He's cursed and left in a comatose state that, seemingly, has no real cure and leaves him catatonic

The world thinks he's dead.

Now, obviously, once we've gotten to the end of the game we know that the points above are all defunct. But, in the beginning of the game that's all we know.

I can't speak for you, reader, but I had wondered: "why is he at the sanctuary? just for safety?" "Is his father not at all curious about his body and where it was?" "what happened the night of the curse exactly?" and this just floated around my head until we meet Hulk— the personal knight to the prince and, presumably, his closest aid just based on proximity.

I think a natural question, when you first hear Hulk's story and then compare it to your mission and Will's truth in this world is— why weren't you invited onto this mission?

You're telling me the prince's personal tutor and sword teacher got to know his location and status before his knight did ? That doesn't make sense at all.

Okay so now more questions pop up from this silent implication: "was Hulk just incredibly inept?" Well, maybe. But when she reunites with the other members of the princes's team they assure her she was a wonderful aid. so, probably not?

"Had she shown herself to be too incapable of protecting the prince to join?" well if that's true Grius shouldn't have made the cut either. He failed to protect the prince just as surely as Hulk did.

"it was a quick thing, they couldn't bring everyone or it would raise suspicion" sure, this is the most reasonable option, I guess, but again— how did gruis make the cut then if it was only a few people allowed? I can't imagine he was a more useful team member than Hulk. She was his assigned knight! Ordained and everything! Would Hulk have raised too many flags? If so why not recruit her once everything had died down a bit. Hell, she goes off and throws herself into finding the prince and/or his killers for years apparently and no one batted an eye. They couldn't have reached out in that time?

But this is good! this is great actually. Already, without saying a word we the audience are told 'She wasn't picked.' And we're left to sit on that.

Where I think the game stumbles after this is shooting their resident elf girl in the back by giving her 'anime woe' disease, as I've coined, which is the disorder when you have (1) thing that's happened to you and you harp on it— tirelessly.

You've probably seen this a lot, it's everywhere in Japanese fiction (or at least the contemporary stuff that blows up into an international and online audience).

In Hulk, it shows itself through every other word being about her grief and failure, failure to the prince and the crown and the people for letting things get this bad. She isn't special here, Strohl and Heismay have the same problem (parents dead and son dead respectively) and its... grating, in them too, but I can't fully articulate why Hulk feels so offensively boring in comparison. If I were to try, I think compared to the grief of loosing someone irreversibly whom you loved (a parent or child), Hulk only loses her charge. Which she thought to be her duty of course, but this listlessness does nothing for her character.

Heismay, in his grief, becomes a recluse and racist who wants nothing to do with he world that scorned him, stole his son and tramples on the effort he did for the crown and common folk alike. He's aged with this grief and it's soured him even though he seems, generally, affable. Strohl is harder to place just because he was so young when it happened, so his grief has just fundamentally formed him as a person, but you see his behavior is shaped around this grief inside him. It's the core. He's impulsive and unable to sit aside for second chances, instead preferring to, say, run into the fire and do what he can. These two have been changed by their pain, irreversibly.

In comparison... Hulk is just... moping. She has, seemingly, changed very little since her time working for the prince. She's still happy and loves food, still serious but has a goofy side around those she respects and still speaks highly of the crown. Sure she could have changed from before, maybe she's less serious now but that doesn't make sense. It feels very one note. you complain endlessly about this failure, this loss that changed you and left you adrift, but really how lost are you? You're horribly casual during this journey. You, who wants the prince alive more then anyone on this damn ship— save will— are gallivanting around and partaking in local delicacies long enough to be distracted. It sends mixed messages.

Not to play trauma Olympics, but if you told Heismay that waiting at the end of this journey is his son, alive and well, I can't imagine he'd be enjoying any moment of leisure. Same of Strohl.

Right okay so what the fuck ever she's an inconsistent character. so what? that's why you hate her?

Well, kinda? More then anything I hate her eyes, but that's neither here nor there— 

but lets get into the fix. So on my YT channel I've talked about my problems with the game and fixes I wanna make, and here's another:

We need to rework her. Here's my pitch.

Hulkenberg is the oldest daughter of some dukedom, somewhere, and in the kingdom's employ as the prince's aid and personal knight. Though she is strong, she is haughty and sees the work to be her destiny and as such grows lax and unappreciative of what she's doing. She's a bold foodie who enjoys music and dancing more than weaponry and the job is a bit tiresome. But she is devout to the crown and her family are sanctists to their core. So her allegiance, at least outwardly, is less for the prince, and more for the institution itself.

fight happens, its a shit show. The prince is cursed and 'dies' on her watch. Because of this she is ousted from the royal guard and stripped of her titles, seen as a failure for her inability to save the prince. Wanting to prove herself, she goes on this journey to find the prince and fix her mistake, to repent for her failure that has haunted her since it happened.

What this new backstory does is:

1) explains why she wasn't taken along. This version of hulk is too tied to the church and powers that be to just disappear and never seemed to have much affection for the prince past pleasantries. It's too big a gamble to let her in the sanctuary, so less capable parties have to follow in her stead.

2) This would explain why she's left to her own devices. She's too important to her family to just be murdered outright and too strong to be assonated either, so covert options are out. Stripping her of her importance and ostracizing her from the life she knew keeps her quiet. this hulk is seen as a loose thread that needs to be cut, lest she grow discontent and cause fuss.

3) It allows for her to change from the more care-free version we'd learn she was. This failure stripped her of everything and now she's a husk of herself. But she can get it all back if she can get the prince back. Make up for her failure.

In this version of the story you'd get glimpses of who she used to be, brief flashes of the cute young woman who was left behind with the prince's corpse. Maybe not great waifu bait, but it's more fun so sue me.

I also need her to be a racist.

But, that's for the next post. This ones already way too long. If u want more my ask box is always open. mwah

Hope you enjoyed <3

[iamdispleased]

Found Some More Hatchetfield Lore!

tldr; at bottom

I remembered that one of the Lang brothers said that Wiggly is based off of Cthulhu, so I decided to do something digging on a piece of shit author, H.P. Lovecraft and y’all… Okay, I don’t know if it counts as lore, but Hatchetfield is right under our noses.

CW: H.P. Lovecraft’s writing is full of bigotry, and if you plan on reading it, prepare yourself. For example, there is an evil entity named Shub-Niggurath. Yeah.

I don’t like H.P. Lovecraft, nor do I enjoy his writing in general, so here are some things that people should look up if you want to find out Hatchetfield’s inspiration. More thoughts on why I cannot write about him are at the bottom.

Also! I do not look down or dislike people who enjoy H.P. Lovecraft’s writing and his creations, and would really love for people to continue to look into things I cannot. I hope my little notes help!

(I’ve linked the stories in pink!)

SPOILERS: Hatchetfield? I guess? The Cthulhu Mythos & The Dream Cycle.

Cthulhu Mythos:

Just read ‘The Call of Cthulhu’. Everything makes sense.

Miss Holloway is based off of a character named Horvath Blayne from the anthology series The Trail to Cthulhu by August Derleth. Here’s one of them. ‘The Black Island, Being the Narrative of Horvath Blayne’.

Duke Keane is also taken from The Trail to Cthulhu.

The narrator of ‘The Call of Cthulhu’ is named Francis Wayland Thurston.

Professor Hidgens is based off of an art student named Henry who is known for being eccentric and living in solitude. (The Call of Cthulhu)

Emma Perkins is named after a ship called the Emma. The crew got into a battle with Cthulhu’s cult members, which resulted in the Emma having one survivor. (The Call of Cthulhu)

John MacNamara is based off of the police officer John Legrasse. (The Call of Cthulhu)

Willabella Muckwab resembles Lavinia Whateley, from ‘The Dunwich Horror’. She has a son, Wilbur Whateley (Wilbur Cross), whose father is the cosmic entity Yog-Sothoth (Wiggog Y’rath). Lavinia went missing on Halloween, and the assumption is that Wilbur killed her.

The Black Book is the Necremonium.

There’s always professors somewhere.

The Dream Cycle:

LOL. The Dream Cycle is a collection of short stories surrounding dream cities. I honestly haven’t read anything about this other than brief stuff from the Wiki, but the connections are painfully obvious.

The word ‘oblivion’ is written in the Black Book. H.P. Lovecraft has a poem titled Ex Oblivione. The narrator sees a gate in his dreams and wants to get past it, but he can’t access it. He eventually does, though. Yikes. Read this post, picture Willabella Muckwab as the narrator for Ex Oblivione, and enjoy.

Bonus: Some of the covers of the magazine that published H.P. Lovecraft’s work (Weird Tales) are sprinkled throughout Hatchetfield.

“Pete, get behind me! I’ve got a gun.”

“Steph… it’s a ghost. I don’t think that’s gonna do any good.”

Rosary? Killer Track, much? Also, the art style for the Black Book kind of resembles this… huh.

-

Note: I had planned to read all of H.P. Lovecraft and the associated work, but the racism is too much for me. I can’t “separate the art from the artists”, especially when everything evil is so obviously and horrendously based on Black people, as well as other races. Again— Shub-Niggurath. Like, seriously?

It’s a huge bummer, because I have so many thoughts— like the implications behind Willabella Muckwab associated with Lavinia Whateley, and Wilbur Cross also being associated with Wilbur Whateley. So much is at our finger tips.

I’m still going to be writing other things, though!

I have more of the Black Book deciphered, so that’s exciting, especially since I actually got some stuff right in my first post. (It was looked at through a more religious lenses rather than an H.P. Lovecraft lenses, though.) BUT STILL. MY EYES HURTING FROM INTENSE SQUINTING SESSIONS WAS NOT FOR NAUGHT! And I know I state some of these things as if they’re facts, but they’re ‘probably based on’ stuff.

Alright. I’m off to read about physics, the concept of nothingness, and the æther in the name of theatre kid.

tldr; the Lang bros made a the TTRPG Call of Cthulhu homebrew and turned it into musicals.

[i-already-know-im-going-2-hell]

helloooooooo cass, happy wincest wednesday! supernatural canon is incredibly undecided on this matter, so i want to know YOUR headcanons for what language(s) sam and dean have studied! do you think they have overlap anywhere, or would they divide and conquer? 🤔 i think about this so often, so i want to know other people's opinions too :)

Ok so I'm gonna preface this by I actually don't know much about languages in general, so I had to do research to come to a lot of these conclusions, but I don't know much about languages so I guess take all this with a grain of salt and the knowledge that I should most definitely be asleep.

So I have a couple of conclusions (and just fun possibilities) about the languages both of them would probably have ended up knowing and continued learning.

Tldr version:

I think Sam starts out fluent in being able to read Latin, Dean starts out at a "conversational" level of speaking Latin, and over time Sam grows to be just as capable as Dean at speaking Latin out loud or better while Dean remains at the same level.

I think Sam took Hebrew in college because he had to take a language to fulfill his electives and he was interested in reading original Abrahamic religious transcripts.

I think Sam picked up being able to read some Germanic language, possibly German, but possibly an older Germanic that I cannot name (I don't know how to read the language root charts, I've been staring at multiple of them and I can't figure them out, I'm so sorry...).

Long most definitely sleep deprived thought dump below.

1)So they both know Latin, but at different mastery levels. My basic conclusion for this is that most of the incantations I remember seeing in the show was in Latin or Enochian (this wasn't one of the things I did research on so I'm basing that solely off my memory) meaning that Latin would be a basic language hunters would have in their toolkits. I think however, that Sam started out with a better mastery of reading Latin than in pronouncing it out loud or using it, and Dean started out with the opposite. My main basis for that is that growing up, Sam was delegated to research more, whereas Dean spent more time with John out hunting, and so I think Sam had more chances to use his knowledge of Latin by reading old manuscripts, whereas Dean rarely needed to read Latin the way Sam had to growing up, so I think he has a decent ability to pronounce and speak Latin out loud, but he has a difficult time reading it.

I've read a lot of fics where Dean is not able to even really speak any Latin with any sense of ease, and I will say I don't think this is fully accurate. Dean has a tendency to play up his rough, uneducated exterior but when presented with areas of interest, he seems to consume knowledge just as rapidly as Sam. (Ex. he mentions reading Vonnegut and when presented with Samuel Colt's journal he is just as excited as Sam is about being able to read it, enough so he doesn't let Sam read it and says "get your own")

So in this case, I think Dean would be decent at understanding how to at least pronounce correctly basic Latin, because it's an extension of hunting, specifically an extension of hunting that denotes action (speaking Latin out loud would only be used in incantation, not research) and I think whether he truly enjoyed the process of learning it itself, he'd be as devoted to knowing enough Latin to use reliably as he was with any other areas of hunting.

I do think however, Dean is not interested in being able to reliably read Latin, because I think he and Sam are both used to their delegated roles that they're played since childhood, Sam that of the family researcher, and Dean that of the main body/protector.

Sam on the other hand would most likely become just as proficient in speaking Latin out loud as Dean after Stanford and as he grew into his role of working side by side with Dean in the field, but he'd never lose his proficiency with reading Latin because he never left the research role.

2)I think Sam would have a pick of many languages when he went to Stanford to choose to take for electives (he did, I looked up all their language programs and it's an impressive list), and he could've taken something like Latin that he already had practice in, but I think this would not have been in character for Sam with the way he seems to enjoy but also place a sense of control and worth in his ability to learn new things. So Latin would've been thrown out as a possibility. The reason I think he would've found Hebrew interesting enough to consider is again Sam's interest in god and religion. In the show Sam was a religious man from childhood, who was nondenominational, while still clearly holding base beliefs from Abrahamic religions (Christianity, Judaism, and Islam), such as a belief in a singular god and in angels. On a meta level, I think this has to do with the fact that they tried specifically through the show to make it so that Supernatural while often centering on religious/theological subjects, was not a show making a religious message, and Sam being overly interested and practicing from one religion specifically would have swayed it towards that direction. That being said though, Sam does still show a clear interest in both religion and specifically Abrahamic religions. So, if Stanford required him to take language electives, and required him to take other electives that would include the possibility of religious classes, I think Sam would be intrigued not only in taking classes that discuss Abrahamic religions, but being the kind of person he is and already being used to researching and reading through old manuscripts, would think to pair Hebrew with said electives so he could read original documents himself.

3)Ok so this last one I did try to do research, but as stated above, I do not know how to read the language root charts. Feel free to infodump to me about those in a later date if that if something you like Ciel, because I wouldn't mind understanding better, but I couldn't make much heads or tails of them. What I could figure out though is that if Sam already knew Hebrew, and Latin, then he would know two languages that gave him some basic jumping ground to other branches. Latin for the romance languages and Hebrew for the Semitic languages. I think when Sam realized that this gave him a possible jumping ground for translating texts and manuscripts in similar languages, he would want to learn more base language roots. I looked up a chart of every monster Sam and Dean fought in the first five seasons to try to figure out what kind of theological system many of their monsters would come from, and most of them actually seem to be Abrahamic leaning, because they have ties to demons. When they are not tied to demons they seem to be.....all over the place honestly. I ended up writing a list of all the non Abrahamic monsters (not demons or angels) they fought season 1-5 and listing their theological origins and the language roots for those and.....dude they're all different and it wasn't helpful at all.

So I'm honestly just saying a germanic root because 1) Sam already knows English and 2) they fight one monster that has Norse theological roots.

Hopefully all of that made sense, I'm not convinced I am speaking English at this point and I really really need to go to bed, but I wanted to answer this and it turned into a rabbit hole lol

[nhasablogg]

Something I've been wanting to say for a while

I admit I'm a coward. I can't help it. I have anxiety. I feel as if people will be mean to me even when I've not done anything. I want to protect my peace too much to get into things like I used to, but I need to say something, because it's a recurring thing and people think they can just send me things that they feel is true with no space for disagreement or a discussion. I'll probably make this post unrebloggable and close my asks for a while afterward, because I genuinely am not looking for other people's opinions about it. I already know it's varied, and that many people are very extreme about it, maybe because they just feel passionate that their view on it is right, which is fine as long as there's recognition that your views are not everyone's views, or maybe because the internet nowadays encourages aggression without trying to understand any other view on things.

I don't think liking tickling automatically makes it a kink, and so I don't agree that engaging in tickling with others, whether they know you like it or not, is necessarily something sexual or that it's this whole terrible thing you shouldn't do and if you do it makes you a disgusting human being. I think it's very bold for others to assume that the way THEY feel about it means everyone has the same feelings and experiences. This is so complex and personal, probably something that's been inside of us our entire lives and has developed with us. You can't tell people how to feel, just like I can't technically convince you it's not just a kink. It's weird that you don't think it would work both ways and that only your opinion on it needs to be aggressively shouted at others (you is not aimed at a person, but a general you - you get it, you're smart).

But! This whole discourse has made me feel afraid to admit that certain parts about my feelings for tickling ARE a kink, even though I'm not actually into sexual activities due to being asexual. Although I reckon people who aren't asexual feel this way too. I've seen so many takes about that if you have a tickle kink you can't enjoy it platonically that it's made me afraid to express my feelings on it on the one and only place I can do it, and I think that's stupid. I've been afraid of exploring different themes in my silly little fanfictions because of it. I think it's dangerous the way people will throw serious accusations at others just because THEY might find it sexual and nothing else. It's quite literally something people do to bond and have fun, be annoying, provoke, and sometimes to spice things up in the bedroom, and I can't comprehend why this community thinks those things can't be true at the same time. Humans are complex. Some people are terrible, but do you really think all of us are? I understand the need to protect others, but why must you always assume the worst in people who have never shown you or anyone else any malice? Do you really think I would sit on this blog and talk about something tickling related if I myself found it inappropriate? I wouldn't be stupid enough to admit to something like that anyway. Does this make sense? I just think a lot of people in this community are after the wrong people. I just write fics and sometimes talk about my life, and I would LIKE to be able to talk more about tickling, but I get scared to do so even though this is a tickling blog, to a certain degree.

I don't know. I don't think I managed to say all I wanted to say, but I just simply don't know how to say it. Tldr I guess: most of us are complex and can have more than one feeling about things and it's not up to you to decide how we feel.