#I have some like that but low and behold i cut that person out of mylife cuz things were toxic woaw shocker

[superchat]

Seeing you be such a big masochist on main... does make me want to bully you a bit.

I gotta be honest, like. while i am a complete sub, and theres a good half of it at least thats tied to sexual feelings.

most of my masochism isnt sexual at all, i just like the pain and adore seeing my body get damaged and hurt and want to experience someone else doing that to me, like. not in a sexual way at all, i just want the intimacy of getting beaten by someone until i cant get up and then have some aftercare or something, i fawn over my bruises and scars and would like someone else to do that while i fawn over them instead or something. (tangent but when im feeling more self-hating id want similar treatment but with no aftercare, ive kinda had that before tho and it genuinely does feel awful which ig is the point but :u tangent over)

Kind of fucked up ig so its not like id ever expect that to become a reality or seek that out, especially not anytime soon. i cannot handle intimate relationships rn and i know that for a fact, i can barely handle friendships where ppl are nice to me, i just feel guilty and like i need to do something to make up for it. what is "it" when i say "make up for it" ? i do not know.

[wcters]

𝟳 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗨𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗧 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗬/𝗡 𝗕𝗘𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗖𝗨𝗧𝗘

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: a video that someone put together of moments where you and matt where being cute

warnings/notes: established relationship, swearing, pda, i’m trying to be inclusive so please let me know what i can do that i haven’t done already!

In the beginning, you could say you were kept a secret, but only because you didn’t want to be in the public that early in your relationship. Besides that, your and Matt’s relationship was never kept hidden. Matt loved you and liked to show you off, but you weren’t a social media person. You were fine with being in the background of things and posted on his social media, but you wanted your private life to stay private. You knew what you were getting into when you decided to date an influencer, and you had no problem with it as long as he respected your wishes, and he did.

You didn’t even know he was an influencer when you met, not being on TikTok a lot. You were working ━━ and still are ━━ at a clothing store in LA when you first bumped into each other ━━ quite literally. You were coming out of the back when he backed up into you. You both apologized and went back to what you were doing. You asked your co-worker if she knew who he was because you thought he was attractive. She told you he had been there a couple times before but didn’t know his name. When you were ringing him through, you gave him his receipt. He grabbed it, wrote something on it, and handed it back to you. Low and behold, it had his phone number and name on it.

Ever since then, you two had been . . . You. You immediately kicked it off, going on dates and hanging out, finding out about how he was a triplet ━━ you assumed after seeing the three of them in the store ━━ and finding out he was famous. You used that word, he denied and told you he wouldn’t call it that making you laugh. You had moved to LA for school, and told him that you wanted your private life to stay private if you got together . . . And it did.

You did end up being in the background of videos and livestreams, posted online, and you did feature in a podcast episode, but you never expected videos or compilations of you or matt, let alone just you, so you were surprised when you saw a video titled 7 minutes of Y/n and Matt being cute. You have to admit you smiled and took a screenshot, planning to show Matt when you next saw him. You would wait if you weren’t impatient . . . But you were. He could watch it later. You hadn’t really had a clue as to what would be in it. You didn’t really pay attention to clips of you or you Matt. You had Matt as your boyfriend to experience those moments.

The first series of clips to show up was the many times you had walked in to Matt’s room while he was streaming, and not realizing until you stopped looking at your phone and saw him looking at you. This was always followed by your voice off camera apologizing and him replying with ‘it’s alright babe. You need me to get off?’ He always asked you that when you walked in, not wanting to put the stream over you, and he never did. If you said no, you’d either lie down in his bed and go on your phone or head out to the couch to watch a movie. If you said yes ━━ which you rarely did unless you had a bad day ━━ he would immediately end his stream with a quick goodbye and his attention was on you in an instant.

There were multiple times where you had to help the boys with something for a video. Whether it was setting something up, figuring something out, etc. you were always there. Sometimes it was off camera, sometimes Nick would cut it out, but this time it wasn’t. You remembered them filming this video, being over there when it happened to help if needed and make sure nothing bad happened (them burning another house down).

The three of them had managed to get it out of the box and bag and get it into the right position, but not how to get some of the poles in. “Maybe we should ask Y/n?” Chris suggested as he held up the tent. “No, we don’t need to.” Matt shut down the question as he fiddled with the metal pole. The oldest and youngest were caught looking at each other before they both yelled ‘Y/n!’ You were seen running in, panic in your eyes before you realized nothing bad had happened. “You scared the shit out of me,” you told them, half scolding them, “either way, what’s up?”

“We need help.” Nick smiled, holding up the tent. “You don’t know how to set up a tent?” “We do, it’s just a bit more confusing inside.” Chris answered. “I had nothing to do with this.” Matt butted in, hands up in defense. “Alright. Back up.” You noticed why Nick maybe kept it in as you watched the clip. You were instructing Nick and Chris who were holding up the tent as Matt was gathering more poles. When you asked him to pass you one, you kissed him on the cheek as a thank you forgetting you were on camera. After that, Matt had looked at you like you hung the moon and the stars. To Nick and Chris, you did as you had help them set this whole thing up. To Matt . . . He was just admiring his girlfriend.

After you had gotten together, it became second nature for him to let you know if he was coming up behind you. His hands would grab your waist while he made his passed you. It was seen in the background of multiple TikToks. You didn’t really notice it happening after the first few times because it had become so normal for you, but clips of these motions had made it into the video. You didn’t think those were caught on camera . . . But you didn’t really mind. You thought maybe part of it was because of you how you met, but you really didn’t know, and you’ve never asked.

The next clip was one you’d never forget. When Nick and Chris asked you to help them prank Matt . . . How could you say no? You would never be involved if it was something bad, and this one wasn’t. You knew about Matt’s “crush” on Liam Neeson ━━ having had an idea before he ever admitted it by the amount of times you watched movies and Liam Neeson just happened to be in it ━━ and almost laughed when they told you the idea.

They had asked you to distract him for a long enough time that they could set up all of the pictures, blankets, etc. You wouldn’t say this to Matt’s face, but his room was a little boring - he had the same black pillows and comforter. Without any of your stuff that you had “left” in the room, you were worried about what it would look like. When it got closer to the time that you would be heading back to the house, you had started to get excited. Matt had noticed this and asked what was up, so you had to play it cool . . . You aren’t good at that and you ended up texted Nick and Chris saying something along the lines of ‘he knows somethings up, I don’t have a poker face.” Either way, he didn’t have a clue what was happening.

Your and Matt’s footsteps could be heard through the camera as you made your way toward the door. Matt had texted his brothers and when they didn’t answer, tried to FaceTime them. That’s what could be seen when Matt opened his bedroom door with you behind him smiling. “Oh . . . my god.” Matt spoke, shock on his face. Chris and Nick laughed in response. “This is the prank?” He asked them, “Liam Neeson all over my bedroom is the prank?” The boys nodded. “Wait - Were you in on this?” Matt asked as he turned to you walking toward him and into the room. “‘Maybe.” You shrugged. “I knew something was up,” he wrapped his arms around you as you walked, “you were acting weird.” “I don’t have a good poker face!”

Matt continued to look around the room before Chris turned his camera to face you. “How do you feel about this?” “Well, it’s just a little more Liam Neeson than normal, but it spices’s his room up a little bit more.” “Totally.” Nick agreed.

You had a habit of leaving your things with Matt. Most of the time, it was due to the lack of much needed pockets in women’s pants. When you didn’t ━━ or forgot to ━━ bring a purse, you’d ask him to throw a chapstick or a hair tie into his pocket or wallet. Other times, you were just too lazy to carry something and didn’t want to stick it in your bra.

You also tended to get Matt little keychains to hang on his backpack or car keys. Most of the keychains were from when you went back to Canada to visit your family and bought him something, but you also liked to thrift them too. He would always take them and immediately put them on something. It was his way of silently showing that your his girlfriend and that he loves you, and the things you do for him. Giving him things was your way of saying he’s yours too.

When they posted the TikTok of guess who’s is who, you expected them to only do their things because it was about them, but you were surprised when you saw little bits of you in there. A Canada keychain hanging on his car keys and backpack, a hair tie with his jewelry, and chapstick with his skincare. The comments were flooded with people talking and mentioning you, knowing which one was Matt’s stuff. You smiled when you saw this being featured, and your comment that said ‘girlfriend duties”.

When you had featured on the Cut the Camera Podcast, you had mentioned the Let’s Trip and Versus tour and how you and Matt had to do long distance for a bit. You went to a few of their shows - being flied out per Matt’s request ━━ but because fn your job, you couldn’t be with them the full time. When they were on tour, it felt like you and Matt never saw each other, but in reality you two spoke almost all the time. To some people, Matt could be described as clingy, but you were too . . . And you didn’t mind that about each other.

You never knew that your FaceTime’s were ever caught in camera, but they were in this video, so you guess they were. The boys had done vlogs on the bus, as well as TikTok’s, and this video showed Matt talking to his phone that showed a blurry you. You didn’t even spot that. You could hear you and Matt talking, but too quietly to make out what you were talking about. Long distance was always hard for you and Matt, but you made it work. You would be stupid not to.

When the boys travelled for videos, you usually didn’t go. Not that you didn’t want to, but you had a job in LA and couldn’t be travelling all the time. But when Matt, Nick and Chris asked you to come with them to Texas to shoot a video for Sam and Colby and tour the city, you said yes. You’ve been to a couple of states in the U.S. and thought ‘why not?’ to visiting Texas. Plus, Matt had talked about that amazing thrift store they went to while on your and you were a sucker for vintage.

You didn’t feature in the Sam and Colby video ━━ besides little bits of you in the background ━━ and offered to film if they needed someone to. Matt was scared, and wanted you there. Nick had gushed to you about him wanting to do the Estes method, and you and him wanted you to witness it. You did, however, feature in the Texas vlog the triplets put out on their channel - being seen in the background. But this clip was a specific one from the video.

You were used to the cold, having grown up in Canada, and handled it pretty well. But one night when you went out for Italian, you didn’t dress well enough for the weather. You didn’t think Texas would be that cold . . . But you assumed wrong. While Nick and Chris were talking to the camera, you were in the background shivering with Matt beside you. You were in a long sleeve, vest, and sweatpants. Your legs were warm, you upper body? Not so much.

“You alright?” Matt asked you, moving behind you to wrap his arms around you. “Yeah, a little cold. But it’s fine.” You replied, leaning into him. Matt was like a walking heater. “You sure? You want to switch jackets?” He leaned his chin on your head, swaying you back and fourth. “I’m alright, but thank you. You’re too sweet.” Your conversation wasn’t heard by the camera, but your movements were. Matt could be seen moving his hands up and down your arms and holding your hand as you walked into the place.

You and Matt had similar, but different music tastes. You would recommend each other songs and made playlists, as well as a playlist you both shared with music you both liked. You two would listen to this constantly; while hanging out, in the car, baking and cooking, just doing regular tasks. Matt had given you some guilty pleasure songs, and you had given him some . . . Though he would have never admitted it to anyone besides you. That was until the truth or eat video.

“What is your guiltiest pleasure song and when was the last time you listened to and got into the groove?” Nick asked Matt. He paused, a couple songs immediately popping into his head. “I got to check,” he said as he took out his phone and opened your shared playlist. “This is one that Y/n showed me one time and she loves it.” Matt clicked the song and it started to play. “That sounds like Y/n,” Chris nodded as Nick agreed. “Yeah, that would be my guilty pleasure song. It’s one of her favourite songs so it’s on a lot.”

You remembered seeing a lot of top comments on the video taking about it and seeing the clip a couple times on TikTok with the comments being the same. The next clip after that one was an Instagram story you posted of you two in the car, Matt driving and lip-syncing to the song. Everyone had freaked out over that.

People would also freak out when you would wear his clothes. You had a habit of doing that, you lived oversized and Matt has Great style. TikTok’s and Instagram stories of you wearing a sweater or sweatpants that people recognized were Matt’s were also littered through the video as well. And moments of him slipping a sweater on you or turning you around to see if it was his.

A lot of the moments included in the compilation were just regular things that couples did . . . But you loved the video. You liked it, and sent it to Matt over text with the message ‘people must really like us’. Safe to say, the person who had made it freaked out.

[chiliconsharls]

So, I caved in and I did it in detail! A few days ago I posted a meme of the Charlos lore iceberg but then I had some people asking about some bits and I thought, oh, might as well make the whole masterpost. LOW AND BEHOLD, it is here; an extensive compilation of the rich Charlos lore

Below the cut because boy is this bitch long

DISCLAIMER: before we begin I must note a few things. First, this isn't a whole detailed timeline of Charles&Carlos' relationship and every single bit of their moments bc I would've genuinely gone insane, so, like with the iceberg meme, this is merely key details of their relationship that make ME particularly unwell. This is also almost 2K words long. Lastly, not all points are linked as some of them are rather quite simple to find with an easy Google search

They have the same name in different languages. (In fact, Carlos has explained that his ‘chilli’ nickname comes from the fact that a lot of his friends went from calling him ‘charlie’ to calling him ‘chilli’). Their name is of Germanic origin and it means “free man”. Charles is the French/English version of it, Carlos is the Spanish one.

Beginnings & Pre-Ferrari era (2017-2020)

“I knew you before you knew me” – Charles said he had heard about Carlos when he was coming up in racing while Carlos was competing in KF3 (2008-2009)

They were already hanging out by 2017, when Charles was still only a Ferrari academy driver – as told by a reddit user who works in the Yas Marina circuit and shared the story with a tiny Renault helmet signed by Carlos

“I said this guy’s not beating me, no fucking way” – Carlos in Drive to Survive S01E02 after his battle with Charles in the Azerbaijan GP. (Sidenote: The first episode of DTS dedicated to Charles –S01E08– also showcases a battle with Carlos briefly)

Marina Bay Sands pool story – in several instances now, they both have shared the story of their first meeting/first ‘real’ conversation back in 2018, during the race week of the Singapore GP. They both said they saw each other at the pool of Marina Bay Sands hotel (it’s still unclear whether they were inside the pool or just by), and they had dinner where they talked for a while.

Carlos’ said that that first conversation made him think Charles was a good guy but also that when he first talked to him, he seemed innocent

2018 Autosport Awards interview  – Charles is giving an interview about how his exciting new season is coming and Carlos pops in and tugs him by the ear, making as if to give him a little smooch

“Carlos! My future teammate!”

Ferrari era (paper & cotton years – 2021-2022)

Youngest Ferrari duo

Lord Perceval nickname is born – despite claims that Charles disliked the nickname Carlos gave him (as requested by Charles himself that Carlos ‘from now on, call me Lord Perceval”), Charles went on to have it as his personal tag on his cap –made for driver use only. He’s also used ‘Perceval’ as his aviator call sign when he did some training with the French Air Force.

Jenga challenge video

Fiorano music challenge – this is their core happy memory, as they have said a few times themselves

“I started to listen to some jazz in the mornings” “Jazz?”

Chess – chess is one core activity they do. They would play a lot, even online. Charles would even stop talking to Carlos when he lost sometimes, and Carlos has stated that he only plays it with Charles.

Charles’ said Carlos plays better at night, and he plays better in the morning to evening. “The flights together are probably the ones I enjoy the most (...) we will put our phones away and play chess. That’s where we have the most interesting and deep conversations and I have really, really good memories of that”

“You haven’t showered together?” “We’re not that close yet” // “I find you spontaneously funny” “Carlos doesn’t do anything but he makes me laugh” – Sky Sports game interview in 2021

Charles going to watch Carlos on the podium in Monaco – Carlos talked later in 2024 about how much it meant for him to see Charles there

“Mate! You are looking at me!”

Red porn couch debriefs videos – not much to say, tbh, Ferrari sat them in a sus red couch to shoot the debrief post-race videos. Some of them are quite something

“Come on, Charles, don’t do this!” – Carlos’ radio in Saudi Arabia ‘21

Jean Alesi calling them ‘la bella coppia’ (“the beautiful couple”) // also, Jean Alesi doing photoshop manips when Charlos fought in 2024

Carlos: “good looking couple” “we make a good couple” “most beautiful pair”

Carlos showing off his strength to Charles in that Ferrari party thing

Everything that was written in the GQ article (by Tom Lamont) as well as the photoshoot

Calling each other beautiful

Charles sharing a sandwich with Carlos

Them calling each other ‘sweetie’, ‘honey’, ‘baby’, ‘love’ // ‘like this or more, darling?’ // ‘thank you, my love’  

Bahrain 1-2

Carlos checking in on Charles before his post-race interview in Monza 22’ despite being told he had to go some other place

Ferrari era (leather & forced divorce – 2023-2024)

Football watching together (despite the fact that Charles’ said he doesn’t really follow football) // “Yes, Carlos will be really happy” – Charles after someone asked him if he watched El Clasico and Real Madrid had won that time

Paddle playing too

“Can I choose the position he needs to be in? Take off your clothes, Carlos!”

The gingerbread cookies video

“He loves me” – the whole shell challenges in Zandvoort actually

Talked about racing Le Mans

Charles being jealous of Lando

“Together or nothing. We come as a package”

Charles hiding in Carlos’ closet to surprise him for his birthday

Monza 23’ battle

The Curious Case of Charlos and Pierre Gasly’s PR accusations – During a fan forum in the Singapore GP ’23 weekend, Carlos joked that he would’ve picked Charles to be stuck with in a deserted island, saying: “You see, I would’ve picked Charles, Esteban, I like my teammate” (because Esteban had been asked the same question just before and upon being told he wasn’t allowed to pick his own teammate, Esteban jokingly went: “I wasn’t going to pick Pierre anyway”).

Pierre and Esteban Ocon had a rocky relationship as teammates in Alpine, on top of having an already complicated past together since they’ve known each other since they were kids. Nearing the end of 2023 season, after Pierre (and Esteban) had been criticized for their poor relationship, Pierre talked about friendships in the paddock in an interview and he name-dropped Carlos and Charles, claiming that people “shouldn’t think that they’re all friends”. Despite Pierre having also named Mercedes and Red Bull pairs, people seemed to only latch onto Charlos

It’s important to note that Pierre Gasly is the driver Charles is famously closest to in the whole grid (as they’ve been friends since childhood) but also, he was teammates with Carlos in Toro Rosso for two races in 2017, and is fairly one of the drivers that are close-ish to Carlos as well. In fact, Pierre sometimes hangs with both of them, too.

Puma couch picture we never got the context of

Fred: “are you still single?” Carlos: *looks at Charles* “anyway, changing subject…” – DTS S06E08 // (Sidenote: theres some joking that Charles’ current girlfriend, Alexandra Saint Mleux, and Carlos’ current girlfriend, Rebecca Donaldson, seem to have a slight resemblance to Carlos and Charles, respectively (and the girls also seem to get along quite well))

New York event

Charles timing Carlos’ laps

“I want to give this to you, so you remember me for the rest of your life. For our post teammate era” // “You’re going to leave it there” “No, I won’t" – Carlos gifting him a chili plushie.

“Tell Charles to come close to me and we celebrate this one together” – Australia 24’

China Sprint 24’ incident: “He’s fighting me harder than the rest” // “A kiss on the mouth, everything okay”

Spanish reporter calling them roommates

Insane sim racing videos (almost all of them have some degree of craziness but specially Saudi Arabia, Austria, Dutch, Monza, COTA, Brazil)

Both of them thinking about their morning wood live on camera… then Carlos knowing Charles’ a sleepy guy

Miami merch promo video being cut just right as Carlos seems to go for Charles’ face

“We go from hating each other to loving each other real quick” – actually, that whole motorsport interview for Miami was awesome

Spain 24' inchident - Charles: “He was trying to do something extraordinary because it’s his home race and important moment in his career” // Carlos: “It’s too many times he complains about something”

“Charles and I have one or two ding-dongs a year”

“We look at each other and we smiled like we’re used to” // “We look at each other in the eyes and we understand immediately”

Gladiator II premiere

“Complicate me. Complicate my life, like you always do”

Charles letting Carlos drive his Ferrari in Monaco and show Carlos Sr

“I wanna smash you”

Carlos grabbing Charles’ balls in Mexico 24’

“You should try the chilli crab … I am the chilli crab”

“Try in Spanish” – Charles post Vegas 24’

“Carlos is not my girlfriend, I’m not gonna miss him like crazy”

“I would listen to you for hours”

Abu Dhabi 24’ radio: “it hurts a lot… I really wish we could’ve won it also for the last season with Carlos”

Charles goodbye to Carlos: “Now, I can call him a friend outside of racing” // Charles calling him 'chilli' in IG post (Carlos' said his personal friends call him chilli)

“I wouldn’t be the driver I am today if he hadn’t been my teammate”

“I was happy with Charles. I would’ve continued with Leclerc for life”

“Amazing four years fighting for Ferrari” — Carlos on IG

Fred: “I have never in all my time of racing seen two teammates so intensely preoccupied with what the other one is doing”

Charles being in Fiorano for Carlos’ last farewell with his father driving a Formula 1

Timeless traditions/Uncategorized info

Starting almost all videos with: “Helloooo” “hola”

“Are you ready?” “I’m always ready, Carlos”

Zero concept of personal space

Charles often looks smaller than Carlos despite actually being taller

Hand size difference

Yapper & Yapper

Carlos’ love language is physical violence

Carlos –a self-proclaimed butt guy— often taps Charles’ butt

They had 9 podiums and three 1-2s

They had 90 races together and never crashed

They’re each other’s longest teammates as of date

[ylangelegy]

hitting the brakes.

★ footnotes: fan fiction of fan fiction? likelier than you think (2). nobody perceive this because it is entirely for @diamonddaze01, in retaliation for invisible string and gratitude for her pedal to the metal series, which has been the gift that keeps on giving. word count: 1.3k

You’re seething. Fuming so hard that you’re convinced you’ll see red.

Ferrari red, your husband might even tease you, but that’s beside the point. Right now, your attention is fully on the smirking McLaren driver sitting opposite you. 

Kim Mingyu is a vision to behold in his nylon orange race suit. He doesn’t look like somebody that just got an earful over the radio, which was already the talk of the media briefing room. Mingyu has done it again, the journalists had whispered to one another. Pissed off his race engineer to the point that she threatened to quit. 

If there’s anything you know about Mingyu, though, it’s that he’s always had a bit of a devil-may-care attitude. Why else would he make such a death-defying overtake in the final lap? 

It’d been the kind of move that could have cost someone their car, their career, their life. And yet Mingyu persisted, lunging into a gap that barely existed after Jeonghan had taken the racing line into the penultimate turn. 

McLaren dove up the inside. Jeonghan slammed on the brake to avoid contact. You swear your heart stopped in your chest when the Ferrari wobbled, kissing the rumble strip as Mingyu shot past. Half a second more, half a centimeter closer, and it would have been a disaster.

Mingyu had snatched a podium finish from Jeonghan against the advice of his engineer, and now you had to grill him on it. 

You weren’t mad that Jeonghan finished P4. This was the name of the game, after all. If anything, you were pissed that Mingyu— your friend since childhood— had done something so utterly stupid. 

But you’re not here to tell him off, no matter how much you want to. No, you’ve got a job to do, and you’re reminded of it as you hold the Sky Sports microphone out for Mingyu. 

“The overtake on the final lap,” you say, jumping right into business, “it was aggressive, risky. Some might even call it reckless.” 

Mingyu doesn’t flinch. “It won me the race.” 

You don’t let him off easy. You never have, and you’re not about to start today. “It could have ended badly,” you insist. 

There’s a flicker of something— a preemptive apology, you realize later— on Mingyu’s expression. It belays the casualness of his next words, the fact he speaks without missing a beat. 

“I knew he would hit the brakes because he has a wife at home.” 

Kim Mingyu is damn lucky the cameras are rolling. If he tried to pull that shit with you at any other time, you would have jumped out of your seat and socked him in the face. 

Your fingers flex around your microphone. The light catches on the golden wedding band, adding salt to the wound that Mingyu has so mercilessly cut into you. 

One might think it to be a little cruel. Just last week, Mingyu was among those who raised a toast to you and Jeonghan. He got so wine drunk that his coat ended up in the pool— a story for another time— and he tearfully told the two of you how happy he was, to see his close friend and ‘one of the best drivers he knew’ finally, finally married.

And so it may look like a bit of a cheap shot— this reminder that Jeonghan now had a reason for restraint. That you were the wife waiting at home. 

As much as it is a low blow, you also know that Mingyu is just stating a fact. You’re torn between defending Jeonghan and disparaging Mingyu, but neither of those demons win. You have a job to do, you repeatedly tell yourself, as you clear your throat and shove the microphone just a little more into Mingyu’s personal space. 

“Next question,” you go on, just a hint of flint now sparking in your tone. 

“‘I knew he would hit the brakes because he has a wife at home’? Are you kidding me? Do you hear yourself when you talk, or does the sound of your own engine drown out common sense?”

“Jesus Christ—” 

“You could’ve taken him out. You could’ve taken yourself out. But no, you had to pull that reckless, brainless, ‘McLaren-puts-all-their-budget-into-social-media’ move and pray to whatever racing gods you believe in that it worked.” 

A sharp laugh. This time, from Jeonghan. 

“And then, you sit there in that press room, all smug like you just orchestrated the greatest masterstroke in F1 history, when really, you just proved you’ve got the survival instincts of a fruit fly and the decision-making skills of McLaren’s pit wall.” 

“A lot to say about my team, huh?” 

“Shh,” says Jeonghan. “She’s still not done.” 

“You don’t get to say things like that, Mingyu. Not to me. Not about him. Not when you’re out there driving like you’ve got nine lives and an unlimited spare parts budget.”

“We do, though,” notes Mingyu. 

“Oh, shut up and listen.” 

“If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I hope you enjoy the sight of Ferrari’s rear wing, because that’s all you’ll be seeing for the rest of the season.” You pause. “Drive safe, dumbass.” 

The scathing voicemail ends. Mingyu vaguely feels like he got physically beat up, but you’ve always had that effect on him, anyway— a unique ability to drag him through the mud. Still, it’s a small grace that you’ve ended on a somewhat caring note. It goes to show that you’re not entirely out to wring his neck just yet. 

Your husband doesn’t seem to think he deserves the same courtesy. 

“She should’ve ended at the ‘Ferrari rear wing’ jab,” Jeonghan quips as he absentmindedly twirls the remnants of alcohol at the bottom of his glass. “I would’ve also shit on you for thinking being a ‘calculated risk’ is a personality trait.” 

Mingyu rolls his eyes. You and Jeonghan were such menaces to deal with. 

Years of being on the same grid has at least somewhat steeled Jeonghan to Mingyu’s impetuousness. It’s the only reason the two drivers are able to still grab a drink with each other in good faith, the race that happened earlier in the afternoon now an added bullet point to their years worth of rivalry. 

Mingyu moves to order another beer, but Jeonghan shakes his head. 

“What?” Mingyu whines. “It’s only—” He spares a quick glance at his wristwatch. “Half past ten.” 

There’s an easy grin on Jeonghan’s face as he gets to his feet. Somehow, Mingyu already knows the answer before it comes. 

“Right,” the Ferrari driver drawls. “But, as you so kindly pointed out— I’ve got a wife to go home to.” 

A low groan crawls its way out of Mingyu’s throat. “You’re no fun,” he grumbles. 

Jeonghan gives a wordless pat to his pocket. Mingyu doesn’t even have to know what he’s referring to. Everybody is aware of the polaroid picture wedged safely in Jeonghan’s wallet, the one featuring you and him at Baku’s Old City. 

Left to his own devices, Mingyu resists the urge to fish for his phone. He has a race engineer to apologize to— or maybe an apology is generous. He could tease her, hit her with something like Did you see that? I pulled it off, didn’t I? after her advice to not drive within an inch of his life. 

There’s a weight pressing on Mingyu’s chest, one he wants to deem guilt for what he said to you. Hell, he’ll even dub it crash-out from his maneuver. 

He’ll call it everything but what it really is.

That pang of knowing no one is praying for his safety, the same way all the other devoted girlfriends and wives might be.

That gnaw of finding comfort in his race engineer’s fury— because at least that means someone cares for him, even in some roundabout way. 

That ache of loneliness. Plain and simple. 

Mingyu raises his hand and asks for the bill.

[cheriecoke]

hi rylie!! thank you sm for the recs! and since you said your inbox is open …

could i maybe request a fic where nanami proposes to you? like a spur of the moment thing where it’s not really the “right time” but he just springs out the question bc he wants you forever 🥹😮‍💨

thank you a bajillion! <3

my everything

FEATURING: nanami kento x f!reader — wc: 3.1k

SUMMARY: after nanami remembers how short life can be, he realizes he wants to spend the rest of his with you.

CONTENTS: takes place during jjk 0, slight angst per usual, marriage proposals, sorcerer!reader, nanami's pov, happy ending

note: thank you for this sweet request!! i kind of took it and ran w it, but this was so much fun to write :) i hope you enjoy lovely!! <;33

Kento couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so afraid.

The gnawing feeling of dread was as heavy as the ring in his pocket, the one that he now regretted hanging onto for so long. Shinjuku streets were drenched in the blood of so many curses, humans, and sorcerers and it sickened him, reminded him that life could be cut short at any moment. There was a reason that he’d quit Jujutsu so many years ago, and he started to wonder if he’d made the right decision in coming back.

Kento sorted through the bodies, scanned the mangled corpses for any sign of your familiar face. He never spotted you, but he wasn’t certain if it was a relief that you were nowhere to be found.

Satoru stood at the edge of the street, his forehead lined with sweat, the pale bandages falling away from his icy eyes. Briefly, he dropped the façade that always lingered, and it was obvious how tired he was. How much everything had beaten him down in the last decade and refused to let up.

In that moment, Kento felt sorry for him. Then, Satoru resumed his usual air of arrogance, straightened his back, and the natural balance fell between them once more.

In just a few strides, Kento was upon him, his hair unruly, shirt wrinkled as the tie remained still crumpled around his hand. His muscles ached and he longed for a shower—though any of those trivial thoughts were outweighed by his incessant need to find you.

“Where is she?” The words hung in the air before Kento realized they’d left his lips at all.

Satoru hesitated, almost unwilling to hand over his confession so easily. “I sent her back to the school.”

Kento clenched his fists, but Satoru was defending himself before any irrational actions could be taken.

“She insisted, Nanami.”

Still, he couldn’t help but wish that Satoru had ignored your pleas, even if Kento was unsurprised that you’d volunteered to stand by the students’ side. You weren’t the type of person to let a few first and second years go up against a special grade on their own, no matter how strong they were.

Satoru was squeezing Kento’s shoulder before he had even noticed the movement. Something in his expression had darkened, and though Kento normally would’ve shoved him off, put some distance between the two of them, he wasn’t sure he could remember a time when Satoru Gojo looked so somber. “I wouldn’t have sent them there if I wasn’t certain they’d be alright. I’m not as cruel as you might think.”

Kento knew that he had never behaved warmly towards his ex-classmate, but his opinion of the man was not as low as Satoru believed. For better or worse, Satoru loved his students, and though he pushed them, Kento knew he would never put them into an undefeatable danger.

He sighed, dropping his chin to his chest as Satoru’s hand fell away from his shoulder. “Just take me to her, Gojo.”

Satoru nodded, his lips curling down into a frown before he was teleporting them both back to the high school. There, the sight was even more dismal than Kento had expected. Many of the buildings had been destroyed and there were clear residuals from many sorcerers and curses. It was chaos, a grim sight to behold, and they weren’t even past the gate.

The anxiety twisted up in his chest, and inwardly, he prayed, hopeful that you were as fine as Satoru believed. That Geto, in every inch of his darkened heart, would hesitate when it came to killing an old friend.

“Hey,” Satoru said, tying up the blindfold once more, tightening it across his snowy hair. “She’s fine. This, I’m certain of.”

Kento’s lips were too dry to even offer a thank you, even though Satoru probably deserved it, for all the sacrifices he made, all the time. Instead, he nodded, and turned away from the tall man, haunted by a memory of him once as young as the students that had been left behind to protect humanity.

The leaves and gravel crunched under Kento’s feet as he ran up to the school, taking in the sheer destruction that had befallen the place he’d once called home. It made him ache with a longing for a simpler time, even though he could never go back, and the boy he’d been was long gone.

It was a brisk night—the kind of night that you normally would’ve spent bundled up inside, a bowl of hot soup between you, a movie running while you rested your head against Kento’s shoulder, dozing off before the credits rolled.

That’s how his night should’ve gone. Instead, he was searching every crushed piece of building, every pile of rubble in case your body had been caught between it.

Kento knew that the life of a sorcerer was a miserable one, that it was easy to lose the people you cared about, but he wasn’t certain he’d be able to go on for much longer if he lost you.

The ring was even heavier in his pocket, weighing him down, making it near impossible to move. If you hadn’t survived, Kento would never forgive himself for waiting so long to propose.

He called your name, ripping off his glasses in any attempt to see you better, wondering where you could’ve disappeared to, hoping that you hadn’t died alone.

The grounds, it seemed, had been hollowed out completely, and for the first time, Kento wondered if Gojo was wrong about his old friend.

Panic clawed up his chest, scratching at his throat, sending him into an illogical spiral before a small, shaky voice from behind him brought him back to reality, a light that parted through the black night, so sweet and heavenly to his ears.

“Kento?”

He turned, blinked as you swayed on your feet, making your way slowly down the steps of the main building. You walked awkwardly on your ankle, though you pushed on, heading towards him despite the pain.

For a moment, he watched, and then he was upon you without even acknowledging his movements, two long strides that brought him back to his salvation.

Kento pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair, breathing in the undeniable truth that you were still alive, even as you winced from his stronghold, your arms limp at your sides.

“Fuck,” Kento said, kissing you on the top of the head, your hairline, forehead. His eyes were glossy with tears that had been held back by his remaining shreds of hope. “You scared me there for a second, sweetheart.”

Your hands were on his chest, tracing his bicep before you curled your fingers around his jaw, bringing his gaze to your own. The touch was light, searching for any wounds that hid under his stained button-up. “I’m okay,” you said, softly, even though your face was bruised, your ankle twisted, and you were bleeding from more places than one. “Are you?”

Kento nearly laughed, wondering how you could even think to ask that question when he was untouched compared to you. Though, the amusement died immediately when you looked at him with so much concern that he melted, and he squeezed your hand in reassurance. “I’m okay.”

You nodded, expression serious as you attempted to ingrain the words into your mind, convince yourself that everything would be alright, even though things hadn’t been that way in nearly a decade. You kept your hands on him, as if waiting for some wounds to appear, for him to start bleeding into your palm, even though his injuries went no further than some sore muscles.

“And everyone else?”

Kento pulled you into his chest, running a hand up and down your back, wishing that he could heal you as easily as Shoko could, that a gentle touch could fix everything that had ever soiled your life. “Everyone’s fine,” he said, and as far as he knew, that was true. “A little beat up, but they’re alive.”

You exhaled, nodding into his chest as you rested your weight on him.

Kento would gladly bear it, would carry you all the way home if need be.

Briefly, you were silent, before you squeezed your eyes shut painfully and grimaced. “I got the students to Shoko, but they were all so hurt, so badly,” you swallowed, digging your fingers into his shirt, and Kento suddenly hated that Satoru hadn’t sent him with you, even if he was needed in the city. “Geto—”

You stopped yourself, and said nothing more, heartbroken by a boy you had too many fond memories of to ever see in a malicious light. It was difficult for everyone who’d ever known him back then, even if he hadn’t been that way in a decade.

Kento swallowed and you pushed away your tears, buried whatever conversation had transpired earlier between you and the dark-haired sorcerer.

Though, you’d resolved to be everything that Geto was not. That, at least, had been one positive outcome of his betrayal. “It’s not your fault, love.”

“I should’ve been more prepared to kill him, Kento. I’m not as strong as him, but I should’ve been able to hold him off until Gojo—” You choked back a cry before standing straight, shaking your head. “I tried too hard to reason with him. I left it to a student, and—”

“Hey,” Kento held your cheeks tight in his palms, forcing you to gain a better perspective of the situation. You looked up at him with soft, lost eyes, and Kento was filled with a swell of adoration for you, for the strength that came with the vastness of your heart.

Despite all you’d suffered, you’d managed a smile, been the light in Kento’s life, even when he’d wanted to do nothing but wallow in his own misery. If not for you, he wasn’t sure he ever would’ve come back to being a sorcerer at all. If not for you, Kento would’ve been lost, without an ounce of meaning in his life.

You were so foolish for thinking you hadn’t done enough, when you’d done more for him than he could put into words. Kento’s love for you was enormous, and in that moment, he would’ve let the rest of the world collapse in on itself if it meant you’d be safe and happy.

“Any of us would’ve done the same. Do you really believe that Gojo would’ve so easily killed Geto without speaking to him first? Would I have?”

The look didn’t dissipate from your irises, but you didn’t disagree with him, and that was enough. Kento kissed you, deeply, putting every ounce of affection into that single touch. Everyone had made it out of the night alive, and you’d been there for the students when it mattered the most. That was more than he could say, at least.

“I don’t want to lose anyone else, Kento,” you said, blinking at him once more with those sad eyes, ones that he never wanted to see on your normally bright expression. “I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t tear me apart.”

“You won’t lose me,” he promised, even though he knew that there was no way he could keep it, an oath that was almost destined to be broken. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You and I both know that you can’t be sure of that,” you said, backing out of his embrace to wrap a protective arm around yourself. The smile that graced your lips was sad, defeated. “Our world is not merciful enough.”

Kento knew that better than anyone, and he’d been reminded of it that evening. Reminded of the loss that befell those who wanted to fight for a better world, and even those who didn’t. Death didn’t give any warning, didn’t choose based off anything more than a random draw. “Then I’ll promise to love you until the day I die. That, at least, is a vow I won’t ever break.”

The ring in his pocket was practically vibrating now, reminding him how little the non-necessities of life mattered to him. All this time, he been waiting for the perfect moment, to plan everything down to the very last detail.

It seemed meaningless now.

You squeezed his hand, your face brightening despite your sorrow, lips tugging up sideways. “I can promise the same.” Kento’s heart swelled, and you kissed his cheek before dragging him a few steps forward so the two of you were walking in time together. “We should go check on the students. I want Shoko to check my ankle too. I’ve suffered worse, but it’s starting to swell pretty badly.”

Kento nodded, though his mind was too busy whirling with fears of a wedding that might never happen, that you might never know he was going to propose if he didn’t do it soon. You could be snatched away from him at any moment, or perhaps, he could leave this world with the ring still in his pocket, and you’d only know once you found it on his corpse.

Kento wouldn’t forgive himself, even in death, if he didn’t do what he’d been wanting to do for months.

With one arm around your shoulder, he reached the other into his pocket, twirling the box. He wasn’t even sure why he carried it with him that night when he could’ve so easily lost it in the middle of battle.

Yet, there it was, lingering, the constant weight in his pocket that rested against his hip. He swallowed, and you looked up at him, your lips falling back once more into a frown.

“Hey,” you said, slowing your pace, concern evident in your expression. “Is something wrong? Did something happen in Shinjuku, Kento? I didn’t mean to just brush off—”

Kento shook his head, shushing you quickly. It didn’t take him long to make up his mind, and he wrapped the tiny box up in his hand. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of your head again before holding the box out, presenting it to you calmly, without any spike in his normal tone. “I just was thinking about how I was going to ask you to marry me.”

You stopped completely, your pupils blown wide as you took the box from him with shaky hands, blinking back down at it before meeting his tender brown eyes. “Kento?” you said again, calmly, as if waiting for him to explain.

A beat of silence passed between you. Kento, suddenly, felt nervous around you for the first time in a long while.

“Truthfully, I was going to prepare a long-winded speech and buy you some flowers and take you out for dinner. But,” he cleared his throat, regaining his composure as he flipped the lid of the velvety box, revealing the sparkling ring he’d spend hours searching for. “I love you too much to waste any more time. Somehow, until tonight, I’d forgotten how short life can be. I just want to spend every moment I can as your husband.”

Your eyes became glossy as you stared down at the beautiful gem, lifting the ring out of the box to slide onto your finger. As expected, it fit you perfectly, shimmering in the pale light, the perfect complement to your skin. Kento gently took your hand, kissing the knuckle right below the jewelry.

“I’ll propose again to you properly,” he said, laughing quietly, though if it was because of your silence or the joy lodged within him, he couldn’t be certain. “Without all the blood and the—"

“Kento.” Your lips were on his before he could finish his sentence, harsh and passionate despite your injuries. Fingers curled around his chin, holding him into place, making him forget all the horrors that had occurred that evening. “Don’t be silly. I don’t need a grandiose display to know I want to be with you forever. I love you too much.”

Kento’s chest warmed, that bundle of affection within him bursting, making its way through every ounce of his being. There, you seemed to glow brighter, every day making you more beautiful than before, and he wondered how it could be possible that he could feel so much for one person.

He relaxed, unknowingly tense, and kissed you again on the forehead, his arms around your shoulder once more. “I should’ve done it sooner.”

You smiled and caressed the harsh bones of his cheeks, shaking your head. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.” You laughed, pulling him down by the tie, pressing a kiss between his brows to ease the wrinkle there. “Besides, now you’ve turned this awful night into something special. I don’t have to remember this day with a bitter taste in my mouth.”

Kento returned your smile, but it was still weak, even with all of the adoration he felt for you.

Though, when you beamed at the ring, your eyes soft, all of the previous despair gone, he knew that everything would be alright. Perhaps his timing had been less than ideal, but he would do it over and over again if only to ease away the misery from your face.

��So, then you will marry me?” he said again, wanting to hear the words from your lips, even though there was no doubt in his mind.

You rolled your eyes playfully, noticing his teasing smile and indulged him. “Yes, Kento.” You kissed his cheek, letting out a sharp exhale. “I’ll marry you. I would’ve always said yes, even back when we were silly, lovesick teenagers.” You sighed theatrically, adjusting his tie. “Who knows why. You had such a ridiculous haircut back then.”

Kento’s cheeks grew warm, splitting with the force of his smile, one that only seemed to appear with you at his side. Despite all of the horrible things that had happened in all of your lives, he was grateful that there were good moments too.

“Well, I still managed to win over the prettiest girl in the world, didn’t I?” he said, ghosting the words as he laced his fingers with your own, squeezing tight. “Now I get to call her my fiancée.”

You mumbled something less than kind under your breath, but Kento could feel the warmth on your cheeks, the flush the began from your neck.

He laughed, continuing his path back to the infirmary, where the students were likely waiting for you to return safe and sound. “Come on, I’m taking you to see Shoko. I wouldn’t want my future wife’s injuries to get any worse, would I?”

And though the both of you knew your injuries were minimal, your eyes brightened as the skin around them wrinkled, and Kento knew that whatever happened after this, he would live and die a happy man.

[dekariosclan]

As a fellow galemancer i had to share that when your doing the spell scene with gale, when the narrator says the weave is making your one, i couldnt help but notice that he slowly blinks at you like a cat, since tara is technically part cat im sure they blink slow for affection so im not sure but Gale as a cat person slow blinking at you feels so cute, just some food for thought adore you blog as well have a great day

OP, you are absolutely brilliant. However, it seems somehow tumblr autocorrected ‘tressym’ to ‘cat’ in your ask, because as Gale and Tara would both insist, she is definitely NOT a cat, absolutely not, not even a smidge, she’s proudly 100% tressym and we would never want to insult her or get on her bad side by insinuating otherwise! Obviously that was a mistake on tumblrs end! nothing more!!

(…okay OP I think we are in the clear, that should smooth things over with Tara, just wanted to cover all our bases there 😂)

You raise a really interesting point—Gale, having been partially raised by a tressym, could absolutely have picked up a few tressym qualities and mannerisms! So let’s talk about that:

slightly 18+ / suggestive under the cut!

First off, to your point, Gale does the tressym slow blink to show affection. As if Gale’s soft cow eyes weren’t appealing enough, those slow, soft, affectionate blinks?? How could you resist:

Gale loves to touch you, hold your hand, have his hands on you, and of course massage you…except that his massages, while lovely, seem to be less ‘ease your muscle stress by applying firm pressure’ and more ‘making biscuits on your back.’ When you ask where he learned his technique, he says he’s self-taught and proudly adds ‘Tara approves of my form.’ (Doesn’t matter, you love it regardless.)

Gale longingly mentions his tower’s ‘crackling hearth’ several times throughout the game, and just like Tara, it’s one of his favorite places to be—ESPECIALLY if he’s curled up next to it with you. Now, whether you’re on his lap or he’s on yours? That’s entirely up to you. Though Tara might object if her favorite spot—Gale’s lap—is too frequently occupied >:(

Gale occasionally adds in a soft, loving head bump during a makeout session—gently, of course! (This one is canon IMHO as he does this during his ‘Grateful’ kiss variant seen here)

Speaking of making out, when Gale’s engine really gets revved he’ll move from those yearning moans to a low, steady rumble of desire from deep in his chest. A purr of arousal if you will—but one that can turn into a growl as he hungrily claws at your clothes, if your laces/buttons are not cooperating with his need for immediate removal.

It’s canon that Gale hates vegetables, full stop. After all, what self-respecting tressym craves broccoli? He’d much prefer to share a meal of quipperfish, pigeon, or beholder meat with Tara. A proper carnivorous meal, and preferably one that comes with some sort of cream-based delicacy for dessert. Also…are those peas on his plate? Carrots?! Instantly incinerated.

And finally, Tressyms are fastidious about their cleanliness—Tara herself can be seen diligently cleaning her paws during the epilogue—so of course Gale follows suit. He’s very vocal about being disgusted by the bloodbath you can get while in the mindflayer colony in Act 2, and he loathes being in the sewers of Baldur’s Gate. Gale prefers to be clean and preened at all times, not only for his own sense of pride, but also so he can be as presentable as possible for you. (As he himself put it, ‘A gentleman is only as handsome as his least-groomed locus.’). Now when it comes to your cleanliness, though, Gale would never criticize you for your, ah…sweaty, glistening muscles after a fight, OR your particular musk arising from said sweatiness and dirt. In fact he rather likes it, because the only thing better than being clean is the process of getting clean, which he will happily help you with! Perhaps a long, hot, luxurious bath, your naked bodies intertwined as he runs his hands and mouth a bar of soap over every inch of you. Or, perhaps, if bathwater is not available, he could go full tressym and simply lick you clean himself clean you up in a different manner! Who knows?? The possibilities are endless, and he does have a practiced tongue. 😉

— — —

Thank you again for this lovely ask OP! I hope I painted an accurate picture of just how similar our beloved Gale is to a cat TRESSYM !!

As always if anyone has any additional points, please feel free to add them! 🐈🪽💜

[licorice-tea]

Duty At The Expense Of Desire

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: mild cursing, lots of arguing between reader and Law, reader is nervous to be in a relationship, platonic luffy and reader <3, reader loves the strawhats a lot :)

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: i spent so long just rereading this, i don’t know why but it feels kind of hard to understand? so i might revise it again in the future idk yet! i hope you enjoy reading, again this is very very loosely based on kate and anthony’s season in bridgerton! it was originally going to be 2 parts, but it’s looking like a full on series now… lmk if you want to be tagged in future parts! enjoy! <3

Part 2 | Part 4

Now that your feelings for Law have been revealed- not only to him but to yourself- you find the tension between the two of you is undeniably different from before.

What were once looks of contempt now harbor some quiet desire. Chances of accidentally brushing shoulders when you pass by each other are avoided altogether, for fear of fueling a fire neither of you know how to deal with. And any crass or biting quips are cut out of your minimal interactions completely, as you both now feel they come off as flirtatious rather than standoffish.

A few days have gone by since you confronted Law and he admitted his true feelings for you, all of which have been spent at sea. Nami says there won’t be an island to dock at for at least another three days, given how the weather is slowing the ship, so your crew’s only source of entertainment is each other.

“Y/n,” she asks while the two of you along with Robin relax on the deck, “what happened between you and Traffy the other day?”

Your breath hitches and you cough unnecessarily, already giving away your nervousness to the two very observant women. “Uh, not much.”

“Well, what did you two talk about? You didn’t come back to the table after, so I thought you must have stayed together…” Robin smiles softly, baiting you to reveal more.

“What? No, no, oh my god no… We just…”

Nami urges you on with a sing-song voice; “You just?”

“We… talked.”

“Talked about what?”

“I don’t know. Our issues with each other.”

“And you resolved them?”

“Come on, y/n, tell us what happened!”

“Nothing happened.”

You stand up then, too annoyed to continue talking to your friends. It’s not even their fault really; you would want to know what had gone on too, if the roles were reversed. Maybe you’re just annoyed with yourself for not being able to face your own feelings.

~

With no particular destination in mind, you find yourself in the Thousand Sunny’s library. When you open the door, you see Law browsing the selection of books your crew has accumulated throughout your travels. You shouldn’t be surprised to see him, but you are.

That’s what it must be; what other reason could there be for the sudden raving of your heart and your breath hitching? Any feelings you ever had for him were buried deep inside after last night; too deep to allow yourself to feel them to the extent you were currently, and so these must all be signs of surprise.

You steel yourself and walk in, letting the door close behind you. Law looks up to find out who the person intruding on his studying is, but his eyes are blown wide when he makes eye contact with you. Neither of you speaks as you turn away and cross the room in quick strides to another section of the library.

“Stupid Law,” you think as you try to calm your mind- an impossible task when he’s standing anywhere in the same room. “Stupid weather,” preventing you from getting to an island so you can get some damn space from him. “Stupid library, ” because of its shelves that make it all too easy and tempting to peak through and catch a glimpse of him.

Actually, maybe that’s not too risky of an idea. Cautiously, you bend down slightly and pretend to scan the titles on the shelf. You allow your eyes to slowly wander off the books until you can see Law by peering upwards. But low and behold, he’s staring right back at you.

You gasp and stand up straight, silently cursing your silly plan.

“Y/n.” He walks over to you, 2 books tucked under his arm. “l was under the impression you wanted me to keep your distance from me.”

“I do.”

“I find that hard to believe with the way you’ve been acting around me.”

“It’s just weird. You made me admit that I had feelings for you, and now things are weird.”

“I made you? You didn’t have to say anything, you could’ve rejected me and we both would’ve moved on.”

“I did reject you.”

“By telling me you feel the same? That’s some rejection.”

“You shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.”

“I had to, you told me that you thought I hated you.”

“But I didn’t make you say that you have feelings for me, and so now you’ve made it impossible to ignore.”

“Believe me, I tried to ignore it. To ignore you. It was pointless.”

“Then you weren’t trying hard enough. I could’ve gone a lifetime without bringing up the way I feel for you if it means my crew will be able to continue this alliance for our goals.”

“Don’t give me that shit, your captain made this alliance because he thinks we’re friends. You seriously think he had a goal in mind while doing so?”

With a roll of your eyes, you cross your arms over your chest. “Maybe not, but Luffy is the captain- I trust him, and so I follow him in any endeavor he believes in.”

“Well, I’m the captain of my own crew, and I believe that whatever we have going on is a little more than ally-ship.”

“Regardless of whatever is going on between us, is it really a smart idea to complicate such an important alliance?”

“…No. I suppose it’s not.”

“Then drop it-” You turn, ready to forget about this conversation and continue hiding your feelings away when he grabs your wrist.

“But they wouldn’t care, y/n, and you know that. Your crew thrives on-” he gestures vaguely with his free hand, “-friendship and rainbows and joy.”

Shaking off a smile, you bite back. “That might be true, but you know what’s even more important to my crew? Protecting each other. They wouldn’t like me being with you; even if we are temporary allies, you’re a Captain of another crew and one of the Supernovas. So don’t tell me what they would and wouldn’t be ok with.”

Law seems to think for a second before he releases your wrist. “Hmph.”

Finally, you take your leave to find somewhere- with no Law and no watchful friends- to just think.

~

You settle on the bow of the ship. If you had an ability like Luffy’s or any guarantee that you wouldn’t slip right off and into the sea, you would like to sit on the masthead of the Sunny. A clear, unobstructed view of the world ahead, and the breeze to keep the hair out your eyes could be so peaceful. But, this has some sort of charm to it as well; you do seem to love a challenge (even if it’s one as simple as having to lean over the railing of a ship to see the horizon).

With a cheerful call, the man you had just been thinking of joins you on the railing by the ship’s bow. Luffy speaks animatedly of his plans for all sorts of things, but during a lull in conversation, he asks you something unexpected.

“Do you love him?”

“What?”

“Traffy! Do you love him?”

“I…”

“You’ve said how much you hate him, but that just means your feelings for him are strong. So you love him, right?”

You’ve never been more bothered to hear Luffy say something so uncharacteristically observant.

“I love you guys.”

He hums. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t love other people, too.”

“…I won’t ever leave this crew, Luffy.”

“Of course you won’t!” He latches onto you in an iron-grip hug, and you smile ever so slightly. “But, y/n.”

“Yeah?”

He releases you and instead grabs your shoulders to talk to you face to face. His face seems especially serious- the same way it does when he makes a bold declaration of his dreams or beliefs. “If you love someone, you tell them. You don’t hide it, because you never know when they could be gone.”

Finally, your barely-there smile opens into a full grin. “When did you get to be so wise?”

Luffy shrugs. “Shanks told me that once, I just felt it made sense for you too.”

You and your captain stay there a while longer, giggling over this and that until the sun starts to set on the horizon.

“I'm gonna go sit on Sunny- you wanna come with me?”

Though you’d been fantasizing over what it would feel like up there just a few minutes ago, you shake your head. “No thanks. But, uh, Luffy?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you… not tell anyone about what we talked about?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, for sure!”

You would come to regret being so vague with your captain, even if he does occasionally display astonishing emotional intelligence.

~

At dinner- where there’s always something going on- you make an effort to sit far from Law. Your attempt is in vain, however, as he ends up right across from you. Luffy sits to your left, and while he takes a small break from stuffing his mouth, he nudges you with his elbow.

Your eyes meet your captain’s as he winks at you, then looks over at Law, and back to you. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he had some sort of… plan in the works. With a wide grin, he asks, “Soooo Y/n, when are you and Traffy going to get married?”

A moment of silence passes before laughter erupts around the table from everyone except you and “Traffy.” The latter covers his face with one hand and pinches the bridge of his nose while you look simply horrified.

What had happened to not speaking of your earlier conversation? Admittedly, you had spoken of several subjects after your discussion of your feelings for Law… and knowing Luffy, he could have mistaken your vow of silence to be for any one of those subjects.

Since you’re sure your captain didn’t mean to embarrass you with his straightforward view of relationships, you just shake your head and give a muttered response. “We- we’re not, um, going to….”

Law, on the other hand, appears too bothered to stick around and listen to any more jokes. He stands abruptly and disappears in a flash of blue light.

You stick around long enough to finish your plate, then thank Sanji and leave quietly. Some unknown force draws you to Law, when you see him in Nami’s little grove of orange trees. Cautiously, you approach him.

“…Law? I- I’m sorry about that. I don’t know why Luffy said that.”

“It was embarrassing.”

“Okay, Law, they were all just joking. And I can’t even really blame them, because this entire situation is pretty fucking ridiculous.”

“No, y/n, it’s embarrassing that everybody knows how I feel and that you feel the same, and they’re all happy with the idea of us together, but you still don’t want to be with me.”

“It’s not personal, you know that.”

“How can it not be personal?”

“Everything I do is for my crew. I have a duty to them, and not even you or my own feelings will get in the way of that.”

“Do you seriously still believe that they would care if we were together?”

You purse your lips.

“I took your word for it at first, because you know your own crew better than I do, but clearly they have very little regard for what we do. Now I am inclined to believe that you made it up when you said they wouldn’t like us being… being something. And as foolish as I feel after believing that ridiculous excuse, I still want you, y/n. Tell me you want me too.”

“How much?” You ask with a fierce look.

“How much what?”

“How much do you want me, Law? You keep talking about your feelings for me, but you haven’t even said what they are.”

Again, you seem to find any way to continue arguing with the man before you as a means of releasing pent-up feelings. Just kissing him might be easier, but also a whole lot more terrifying and uncertain.

“Desire, attraction, whatever you want to call it-“

“Well, I’m not going to put everything on the line for someone who is attracted to me.”

“It’s more than that, you know that-“

“You know what I think?”

“…What?”

“I think that you can’t even admit to yourself- let alone aloud- the extent of your feelings for me. You want me to say it first so that nothing bad will happen if you put yourself out there, and that’s not going to happen.”

“I-“ He starts to speak, but can’t think of a rebuttal. You have him pegged. “I may not know exactly what my feelings are yet, but I can feel them, y/n. You remain on my mind constantly- so if you want me to stop feeling for you, then you need to stop.”

“Oh, I need to stop?”

“Yes, you-“

“You’re the one constantly making me reconsider everything I tell myself. You are the one who needs to stop.”

“Before what? Before we give in to this… obvious desire, and put aside duties to do something for ourselves?”

Heavy breathing fills the silence. He always manages to rile you up, and you can’t stand it.

“You should go. No, in fact,” you raise your hands in a gesture of surrender, “I’ll go.”

Without giving him the chance to respond, you flee down the stairs to the main deck and through the doors to the cabin hall. All this back and forth with Law is giving you a headache.

You can’t deny it any longer though; now that your captain knows too, it’s like you’ve spoken it into permanent existence. You’re in love with Law, and there’s next to nothing stopping you from being with him in the way you truly desire. Not even your sense of duty.

You should never have counted on the Strawhats to hold you back from something- or someone you love.

Taglist: @augustanna @lavanderdreamve @pinksaiyans @khaleesihavilliard @jennapancake @pinki-minki @loserbee14

[aradassbadass]

cellular sentiment | ceedee lamb ꨄ ii

you sigh and unlock the door opening it only enough to peek out and low and behold its cedarian with a big goofy smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

your face is blank as you stand there processing the man in front of you.

“well i guess you know why i turned off my location.” he laughs nervously breaking the silence.

moments pass, your heart is beating a mile a minute and your brain cant form a proper sentence. you see his smile begin to fade and it suddenly brings all the words back into your being.

“yeah um its cool, im sorry um c-come in.” you stammer stepping out of the doorway so he can enter.

he cautiously steps inside the door closing it behind him once inside.

“i got these for you.” he says shyly reaching out to hand you a bouquet of pink lilies and you cant help but smile.

“thank you so much, howd you know lilies were my favorite?” you say happily accepting them.

“ you said you lilies were your favorite flowers because your mom always grew them.”

“oh my, no way you actually remember that God im about to cry.” grabbing an old vase you have sitting on your island. “please sit down, make yourself at home.”

you go into the kitchen and fill the vase with water, carefully unwrapping the flowers and a note falls out.

“when’d you get a coffee table?” you hear him call from the living room.

“uh, last week it was on market place for twenty bucks.” you call back opening the note.

‘ may these bring you the same joy that your friendship brings me - cee ‘

you smile and place the note in your pocket of your gown for later.

“damn only twenty dollars- i swear you always find the best stuff on there.” he says and youre brought back into reality.

“yeah, dumb luck i guess.” you said going to the stove and removing the steaks that were searing and placing them on a cutting board to rest. you open the oven and check the potatoes making sure they were still cooking as you wanted them to before closing it and heading into the living room.

he is sitting on the small velvet burnt orange love seat you have and you sit in the recliner diagonal to him. you cant help but stare. it feels like some sort of weird dream- him being there in the flesh.

this time it was you who broke the silence, “this is crazy.”

“im sorry, i knew i shouldn’t have just came here out of nowhere without warning. i just really wanted to see see you. in person you know. like with everything going on with the team and all. i-i dont know. i just thought this would be a good little escape, talking to you always feels like one i figured being with you here would actually be just that. i dont know i-im sorry, i can leave.” he rambles standing up.

“no, please stay.” you say getting up and grabbing his arm. he’s warm to the touch and you cant help let your hand linger there. “i didn’t mean it like that i just meant its crazy that im actually like meeting you finally. like it doesnt seem real- you dont seem real.”

his eyes bore down into your own and he suddenly places a large hand atop of yours, “it feel real though, right?” he quizzes and you nod.

“thats all that matters then.”he smiles.

and just as quickly as your nerves had came they vanished in an instant. he was right- it was real.

“yeah, youre right.” you say gently pulling your hand from under his and sitting back down and he follows in suit.

the silence is no longer awkward its akin to that of how you would sit on facetime when he was watching film and you were reading before bed.

“so did yall actually lose?” you question.

“what do you think?” he says flatly and you laugh.

“damn, sucks to suck.” you say getting up and going into the kitchen grabbing an oven mitt.

“wow, thanks for the sympathy.” he says sarcastically. you shrug and pull out the potatoes smiling at how crisp they were.

“perfection.” you mumble to yourself.

“what?” he says appearing behind you causing you to jump.

“nothing God dont sneak up on me like that, fuck.” you exclaim sitting the pan down and removing your mitt.

he ignores you, “hmm, looks burnt.”

your roll your eyes, “aint burnt and it aint for you, you sassy fuck.”

he laughs and sits at one of the stools by the island, “im just playing, looks good.”

you smile at the compliment and pull out your two nicest plates- thrifted of course and begin plating the meals.

“damn no paper plates tonight, i feel special.” he laughs.

“only the best for you lord lamb.” you say placing his plate in front of him.

he laughs and pops a potato into his mouth and you watch for any signs of disapproval, satisfied when you see none and take takes another.

as you begin eating your steak you hear him moan and your eyes shoot over to him.

“this good as fuck.” he says mouth still full and you giggle and nod chewing your own food. the rest of the dinner is silent aside from his occasional moans of approval.

“where you going?” you ask as he gets up grabbing your plate.

“to do the dishes.” he says as if you should have known that.

“thats sweet but no. i can do them just sit them in there.” you motion at the sink and to your dismay he continues on against your wishes.

you sit there and watch as he does it finally taking a moment to take him in. tall, lean and extremely handsome. his locs are pulled up in a sloppy bun and he donned a grey cowboys sweatshirt but his sleeves were rolled up. you admired the tattoos that dances up his wrist and disappeared into his clothes.

“i look good or sum?” he smirks and you do your best to keep a straight face but internally your screaming. “you look alright.”

“damn just alright?” he laughs and for your sake you just change the subject.

“so you wanna spend the night?”

he abruptly stops and glances at you and it feels like you may have said the wrong thing.

“im sorry, not like that or nothing like you can take my bed. you know its just late and you dont need to be driving on 20 right now.” you ramble trying to explain yourself.

“nah, yeah i get it i just aint expect you to offer. yeah ill spend the night!” he says turning off the water. “you can have your bed too, i know you got work in the morning.”

“boy you got practice tomorrow and you just literally played a game tonight i think ill be fine on the recliner.” you protest getting up from the stool and going over to the recliner.

“dont piss me off we been doing good, just get in the bed.” he say following right in suit behind you.

“cedarian you aint nobody damn daddy.” you huff sitting down in the chair.

he rolls his eyes before lifting you up and trudging to your bedroom.

“what the fuck cedarian put me down! im not playing put me down! ” you cry as he finally throws you onto your bed.

“hush, now go to sleep.” he says heading back towards the door.

“wait, come lay down at least. you can at least lay here till i go to sleep.” you say just wanting his presence near. he doesnt protest he just comes and plops down on the side opposite of you.

“thank you.” you mumble switching your lamp off and turning back to him.

you both lay in silence mere inches separating you and you cant help but yearn to close the gap and fall asleep in his arms. his smell is enticing and inviting. he is everything you thought he would be and more.

“goodnight cee.” you mumble shaking yourself of your thoughts.

“goodnight.” he says throwing an arm over you and pulling you into his chest.

you could only basked in the bliss of his body on yours momentarily before your subconscious fell into your state of rest.

some more lil fluff for yall💋 worry not smut will ensue soon!

[piratefishmama]

Fake it Till you Make it | Part 16

Watching Eddie scope out his surroundings was… a sight to behold. He didn’t just walk from room to room like any normal person would, no, much like an adventurer, cautiously taking in their surroundings in a new place, in a new dungeon, stretching his neck to look around corners before stepping fully around them, gently touching walls to balance himself as he stretched.

Walking with his heel off the floor, quiet as a church mouse, going from room to room, appraising each one with varying sounds of approval while Steve watched in fond amusement.

It didn’t escape him, how lucky he was. How lucky he’d gotten, how rare it was for people like him, for people like Eddie, to feel comfortable enough to just be in a place that his parents also occupied. That running into his father on the second floor, midway through twirling Eddie from the master bedroom on one side of the hallway to the other where another door awaited his eager exploration, wouldn’t result in some kind of fight, that neither he, nor Eddie, had to hide who they were and what they were doing.

It didn’t escape him that he was lucky. Not just in the freedom he had either, but that he got to see Eddie comfortable. Got to see him light up like Christmas had come early, got to witness the exact moment downstairs when he’d relaxed in Steve’s space.

When he’d taken in all that stood before him and found comfort in it. Steve knew he was lucky that he got to see that. So he wasn’t about to take it for granted.

He wasn’t going to squander the opportunity to make the most of it. Of Eddie’s childish glee. Even if it was all based on a ruse. It was a mutual ruse. A ruse they were both aware of. There was no unfortunate reveal waiting at the end of the tunnel, no high school drama where some asshole pulled the wool from someone’s eyes to reveal none of it was real!!

He was going to make it as real as physically possible, and hopefully… just… continue. After the holiday. Maybe a conversation could happen to clear up any possible misunderstandings but… Steve wanted. He wanted the ultimate nerd currently scoping out the bedroom closest to the home theatre.

“We don’t want this one” Steve advised, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as Eddie poked the mattress with a single finger, as if that would accurately test the quality of the mattress, as he’d been doing for each room. “The home theatre doesn’t have proper sound proofing, if someone wants to watch a film later, we’ll be able to hear it through the walls.” It’d been a solid DIY job on his grandfathers part.

No professional involved, just ‘yeah I can do that, stand back Mags, let a man work’ and that was that. He'd even put it on the second floor, absolute madman.

Steve always pictured his grandmother just standing there, in the same pose he was currently standing in, watching with fond exasperation as her husband went to work on a project he was deeply inexperienced in, and completely unqualified to tackle.

The fact that it looked good in there was a miracle.

“Okay so, not this room, not the bunk bed room, and not the hot tub room, that leeeaves—”

“Master bedroom, or either of the two on the right side of the house.” The options were actually limited when other people were staying, if it were just him and Eddie they could have any room they wanted, but with his parents there it cut down the options.

“Tch, why’d you have me explore all of em then! We should probably just take the master bedroom, right? Since it’s apparently your house, oh great and powerful Master” Steve raised a brow as Eddie dipped into a low bow, theatrical as ever, his tone teasing, his hair bouncing around his face as he righted himself again. Cute.

“Hmm, you looked like you were having fun, you’re cute when you’re having fun.” And his cheeks coloured so nicely whenever he was complimented, hid behind his hair in a way that made Steve’s heart do a funny little flip flop, he’d file that information away for later, continuing on as if he hadn’t just dropped a flirty bomb on the other man “but you’re right, we should probably just take that one, it does have its own private deck…” oh the things they could do on that private deck. If it were all real. “Usually I let my parents have it buuut…” he had company this time. He’d have more than enough of an excuse to get the private deck, even if he wasn’t going to use it for anything other than relaxing. He had a reason to want a little privacy. “I’m sure they’ll understand us wanting it more.”

Eddie rolled with it, quickly recovering with the out Steve had created for himself, or maybe the guy was just so smooth he didn’t even realise he was flirting. That was definitely it. “Or they’ll think they understand us wanting it more” Eddie winked all conspiratorially, which only served to make Steve laugh leaving Eddie looking upon what he’d done in pride. He made Steve laugh. He did that. He’d done that a few times and honestly the high kept staying pretty fucking high.

How had he been so wrong about Steve for so goddamn long? How long had Steve been this glorious thing, like sunshine in human form?

“Exactly” Steve chuckled before pushing himself away from the doorframe “let’s go get our bags then, our shit wont unpack itself.”

“Actually could you get them? I… I should probably call Wayne, let him know I’m safe. It’s not too late there so he should still be home, is that okay? I don’t wanna leave it too late and have to go through reception at the plant, it’s… not great.” Nine times out of ten he wound up speaking to one of the three other Wayne’s working there.

“Yeah, there’s a private line in the room, you go ahead, I’ll grab the bags.”

“My Herculean hero” it wasn’t even remotely fair how badly Steve wanted to kiss him for how little he did to earn it.

“Yer very quiet, Ed, considerin you called me.” He’d gotten through to Wayne after three rings, reassuring him about his safety had been the first thing on the agenda as he got comfortable on the frankly unnecessarily large king sized bed, but then Steve returned to the room with their bags.

All of their bags. In one go, and Eddie’s brain kind of short circuited. “Huh?”

“Yer quiet, somethin the matter?”

“Steve is carrying everything all at once.” It earned a scoff from the man on the phone, and an amused smile from Steve. “It’s awfully distracting, I dunno what to tell you, Wayne I am very distracted.” Steve’s smile only widened

“Uh huh, well, I’ll let you get on then, gotta head out soon anyway, money ain’t gonna make itself. You sure everythin’s alright though? No red flags?”

“Nah… all green flags here, they’re… they’re nice, y’know?” He hadn’t expected it, so many stories of rich people being awful, but… they were just two extremely hard working people who’d had their hard work pay off. Even on holiday they were still working, it was both exhausting to watch, and deeply admirable. Eddie could never. “I’ll call you again tomorrow to check in.”

“I’ll be waitin. Be safe, son.”

“Say hi to Garfield for me” there was a short laugh on the other end, before the line cut off, leaving Eddie smiling as he put the phone down

“Who’s Garfield?” Steve asked, “other than the fat cat.”

“He’s the fat cat shaped mug I can no longer drink from after the great mug smashing of ’86. That stupid earthquake killed him, but we had superglue, so it was fine, just can’t drink out of him anymore cause he’s fragile.” No amount of superglue could fix the tiny areas they hadn’t been able to fill in with pieces, slivers of pot lost to the dark underside of the cabinets. “Need any help?”

“Nah, you just sit there an look pretty for me.” It had the desired effect, Eddie’s eyes widening, a pretty blush blossoming on his cheeks and the final kicker, he hid behind his hair. Adorable. Perfect. Beautiful. Had they actually been dating he’d have pressed pause on the unpacking, instead, he snipped that last thread holding Eddie’s composure in place with a smoothly delivered “just like that, yeah, God, you’re such a good boy.”

The consequences were immediate.

Part 18

[rleep80-blog]

I work at a Grocery Store. I have for about 15 years. Recently (within the last year) I was promoted. I went from a sheltered bubble of Store security, to a harsh reality. The reality is that I would rather deal with criminals who I already know have mental health issues, then the general public who hide there flaws for the sake of “presentation”.

Here is why….

I would expect no common decency from someone who has reached a point in their life that they steal or shit on the floor or stab someone in the head, to lack morals and values and common decency. So it was quite the culture shock, to realize that all of the “normal” people, are even bigger assholes. Case and point…

I am helping my produce department fill salads. I have a u-boat out. FULL of boxes. It is directly across from the two refrigerated doors I am filing. I have about three to four feet in-front of me. U-boat to salad wall. That’s what I am doing. Filling product. It doesn’t sound like it’s hard work. But the up and down and back and forth and bending and reaching and cutting my arms on the pushers , after time, it gets physical. Like…. I am sweating.

And it’s a Sunday. What’s wrong with Sunday? Well, EVERYONE for some reasons wants to grocery shop on god damn Sunday.

Anyway, I am there, in this little cubby corner of this huge ass store, and low and behold… here comes the first person. With a big ass cart. Rolls it right infront of my little space and wants me to stop what I am doing, get up, and move. So they can walk through my little space and interrupt me working. AS IF THERE WAS NO WHERE ELSE TO WALK. AS IF THERE WERE NOT 5 OPTIONS OF PATHS TO TAKE.

I smile and they say “excuse me” and shrug their shoulders and apologize. I let the first few instances of that blatant inconsideration roll off my shoulders.

And after any the 30th time, different people, I am to the brink of snapping on someone. Because not only do people do this all day to people working in a grocery store, but I am literally stocking 8 glass doors FULL OF GODAMN SALAD. You need the one salad I am filling. Or YOU need to get on the other side of me so bad and cannot walk around? It’s bad enough I have to sit here and wonder why we need 5,000 different types of fucking salad for your picky spoiled asses.

They will not stop. They will never stop. YOU will never stop. It’s entitlement and laziness and a sheer lack of respect or courtesy.

The general public does this all fucking day. Turning a two hour job into a three hour job. Making my body even more sore so you don’t have to walk a few more feet. The sheer ignorance blows my mind.

So yes, I would rather deal with a crackhead. At least I have no hope with a crackhead. I suppose I could be naive to think people are aware enough of their own surroundings that they take others into consideration? Wow… what a dream world that would be. 🖕🏽

# from my head

[iid-smile]

complicated communication , shinazugawa sanemi

x fem!hashira!reader ! includes mentions of obanai and kanae, like one swear, based on s5, not proofread

author's note: this is the first thing ive written, and ive been bored to the point of overcoming my wattpad era from years ago and entering tumblr! yayyy! may be kinda bad, since it was a quick idea, but i hope you enjoy! <3

─────────────୨ৎ─────────────

it was a cold evening.

on this rare occasion, you decided to stay awake to witness some hashira training with your own eyes. it's not often you spare the little (actually, quite lengthy) sleeping time that you have, but the junior slayers you train are pretty well behaved in your estate, especially when it comes to routines.

surprisingly, sanemi is a punctual person. perhaps it's his eagerness to get into some "real hashira training", or perhaps, mixed in with a little of your delusion, it's a chance for the two of you to get some alone time. no, you're not dating each other. yes, you do have a fat crush on him. pathetic, really, because you seem to be the only woman out there that he doesn't respect.

and here, the two of you sit on the steps leading up to the open training grounds. there's got to be at least a two metre gap between the two of you.

"how's genya?" of course, you strike up the worst conversation possible, which is typical (then you wonder why he doesn't respect you?), not so typical for him. at all.

you hear him grumble, alongside a noise of shifting fabric. "i don't want to talk about him."

as if you were surprised, which you weren't, your eyebrows raise a little. you turn your head to look at him rather than the mirroring trees in front, only to see that he was not looking back at you. "why?"

"tch." it's a harsh sound. his eyes remain down on the ground. "you know why." he mutters, his voice remaining low. just for a moment, his gaze raises to the scenery, taking in what he can and can't see. "if you wanna know so bad, how about you ask him yourself?"

ah, dear, dear sanemi. always so rash with you. "i don't see what's wrong with asking his brother about his condition–"

he cuts you off. "he's not my damn brother."

as expected, their relationship hadn't gotten any better, but you remain hopeful. a small smile appears on your face, and you drop the topic. sometimes, you would push on it, but not today. it's not the right environment.

silence.

from time to time, you shift positions. maybe moving a leg, or crossing your arms, uncrossing them, and resting your head in your hands. also, every now and then, you would sniff, a ghost feeling of something dripping down your nose happening too frequently for your liking. you sniff and sniff, but every time you try to wipe, it's like nothing's there.

"here." you turn to look over at him, midway rubbing your nose for the umpteenth time, and lo and behold. a handkerchief in his hand, stretched out to you.

"thank... you..." you say awkwardly, reaching over to take it. before you used it, you took the time to examine it, and... it's his personal handkerchief. you could tell by the "S.S." initials sewn into them. "are you sure?"

"just use it. i'll clean it when i get back to my estate." a harsh tone again. okay, wow. for someone who went out of his way to help you out with his handkerchief, he's having quite the attitude. still, you're grateful. it's not often he does kind gestures, or ever.

it was a bit of a slip of the tongue from you, but he heard it. "quit giving me mixed signals..." you mumble, the words coming out nasally from your nostrils being closed as you wiped your nose. this wasn't even a signal, so why does your heart still ache at the thought?

"huh?" you lower the cloth and look over, only to see a scowl on his face. "the fuck are you on about?"

for once, your stare falters, and you look down at the handkerchief, laying in your cupped hands. "there's no point. i'll be nothing like her."

sanemi can't help but raise an eyebrow. "like who?"

you were nothing like the late kanae kocho. extremely kind, extremely beautiful, extremely graceful. you felt you were none of those things, and it showed. it showed most through the difference in behaviour from him. that gentle affection that you craved from him really wasn't possible.

so, you cower out of it. "nevermind." you nearly whisper.

you can't see it, but there's an unreadable expression on his face as he watches you. like he's reading you, like he's figuring you out. before he could get another word in—

"i'm here." obanai's voice rang out.

you don't say anything else, only quietly standing up and ascending the rest of the stairs.

sanemi doesn't miss the way your hand fiddles with the hem of your haori, and the way your hand seems to desperately clutch at his handkerchief.

─────────────୨ৎ─────────────

[valarie-lovely]

"Only Lasting Good Thing" Adam Stanheight x reader ♡

TW: Angst ~ Fluff ~ swearing ~ Self Harm

Adam had just escaped the Jigsaw trap and he's been more emotional and depressed than ever before. He only finds comfort in the burning of his own skin with his lighter. Desperate for affection without having to ask for it, Adam tries to find a healthy coping mechanism for his PTSD.

CHAPTER 1: ALL I NEVER WANTED

—☆—☆—☆—☆—☆—☆—☆—☆—☆—☆—

All alone, sitting on the curb outside his shithole apartment. The flame continuously burns, then immediately flickers off every time Adam lets go of the wheel on his lighter.

The only spark in his eyes is the reflection of the orange flame, turning on and off like a flashlight. He shuts his eyelids, bringing the flaming light closer to his wrist, wincing once he feels his skin slowly decay under the heat.

He huffs out a whine when his thumb slips off the hot, metal wheel of the lighter, then he looks down at his burning skin. He believes it's the only way to get rid of his burning hatred for himself and everyone else around him.

Everyone else but you.

Speaking of you, he suddenly hears a door swing open from behind him, the door that leads you inside his apartment complex.

"Adam, baby, it's been 20 minutes. It doesn't take that long to smoke a cigarette, you know. Come inside."

Your voice echoes throughout his mind, slowly clearing out every other self-deprecating thought that lingers in there. He could never say no to you, not after his trap. Not after how much you managed to help him in his darkest moments.

"C-coming, love." He coughs, his shaky hands almost dropping his lighter as he scrambles to get up and follow you inside.

You stand and watch as he slides his cigarettes into his pocket, along with his black Bic lighter. Adams always picky with his smoking "tools", you'd say.

He always picks Marlboro's, and if he needs a new one, always a black Bic lighter. He hasn't changed one bit with those choices ever since high school.

He follows behind you inside like a lost puppy, keeping at least a 3 foot distance. Far enough for personal space, but close enough to grab you if he needs to. He just always wants to be close to you, because he knows you're the only one who cares.

When you make it into the apartment, the whole place smells like cigarettes and some other smell from a candle, yet it's hard to decipher the scent. And of course, Adams' cheap cologne lingers in the air.

"Listen, I didn't mean to take so long outside. My cigarette—" he chuckles, trying to play it cool. "I dropped it down the gutter, so I lit another one! That's why it took me so long, I have butterfingers, im sorr—"

"Arms. Now." You cut him off. You stand in front of him, concern and disappointment shines in your pupils, knowing what he actually had been doing out there alone.

His hands tremble as they stroke the hem of his jeans pockets, and his diamond eyes can't even bother to look into yours. He's embarrassed in himself. "I.. I can't do that." He mutters out, his Adams apple bobbing when he swallows his saliva.

You take matters into your own hands once you grab his forearms, bringing them to your chest to examine them. Low and behold, there lies about 5 burn marks along each one of his wrists.

Your chest tightens and your heart quits beating for a second. He promised that he'd stop. He promised that he would be good and that he wouldn't bother to ever feel a flames heat again.

He's just a pathetic liar.

"I'm.. sorry." He quietly whispers, sensing your immense disappointment. He can't bring his eyes to look into yours, let alone speak another word.

"If you were sorry, you'd stop. You've said sorry numerous times before. Sorry doesn't cut it anymore, Adam!" You begin to lash out, taking your bottled up emotions out on this poor excuse for a man.

He stands there like the boy he is. Unmoving. Broken. Lost.

"You're a liar! A fucking liar, Stanheight! First, you say you have never hurt yourself intentionally before. Then, you say it was one time. And then, you told me you would stop for good! Why can't you see that you're ruining your own life!"

He stands there as if a knife had just been twisted into his heart, causing all blood in his body to sit still. Tears that were recently threatening to fall from his eyes finally do, streaming down his cold, rosy cheeks.

"Baby, I—.." You stutter out after seeing the state hes in, but you can't find the right words to apologize for your anger. So, you do the only thing you know how to.

Bringing him closer, the cold feeling of your fingertips press against each side of his neck as you bring him into your embrace, gently stroking the back of his head.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He repeats like a broken record. His diamond blue eyes flood with tears. The sobs of a broken man escape his lips once you two fall to the floor.

You quickly shake your head, denying his claim. "No. This is my fault. I should be helping. Yet, instead of that, I'm lashing out at you as if you're a bad guy. You're not a bad guy. You're my baby boy.."

[solarpunkani]

Milkweed Lovers Everywhere, Heed My Warning

By all means let me know if I'm wrong here, but if I'm not wrong then we're looking at a serious (at least to me) problem.

I've been trying to stray away from Tropical Milkweed (Asclepias curassavica) and towards more native species in my area--things like swamp, sandhill, etc--and Butterflyweed (Asclepias tuberosa) fits in that category for me. It's hard to find native milkweed plants in stores--even places I've gone to in the past that had a handful of native species are currently only selling Tropical Milkweed. Even still, I know that there's been a good bit of buzz around growing native species, and some stores I've visited have said they're trying to find vendors with native species--they're not only selling Tropical for lack of trying.

So imagine my surprise--and delight--when I go to Lowe's and see Asclepias tubersoa blazoned on a plant label!

And imagine my surprise when it's being sold right next to Tropical Milkweed and looks almost identical to it.

I was immediately suspicious--especially considering the red flower buds on the 'Butterfly weed'. I've grown Tropical Milkweed for several years, and while it's been awhile since I've seen a Butterfly Weed plant outside of a photograph, these definitely didn't look like what I'd seen. Not to mention, I'd only heard of Asclepias tuberosa flowering in orange or yellow--not red. Of course, at the same time, I'm not a professional botanist, and a quick google search did declare that butterfly weed can grow in red (though the images all look like asclepias curassavica to me...).

(Image from the Native Plant Database. Looking at this picture, I should've realized where this was going sooner...)

So I did the reasonable thing and bought two of them. I figured if the red buds somehow turned orange and were actually Butterfly Weed, then I'd be perfectly satisfied. If they turned out to be Tropical Milkweed, well, I simply would give them to my neighbor who's fond of them, or find something else to do with them.

(I feel the need to emphasize; there are a lot of people online who are in the 'if you plant tropical milkweed you're a horrible person and intentionally killing monarch butterflies' camp. I am not one of them; it's not invasive in my area of Florida, it just takes a little bit of extra managing in terms of cutting it back in October/November.)

I ended up in the same Lowe's again today, shopping for my mom, and took a peek at their plant selection. Lo and behold, I found the Butterfly Weed, and...

This sure does look like Tropical Milkweed to me, and to others in my gardening server, yet it's still labeled as 'Butterfly Weed.' Also, I didn't see any Tropical Milkweed on any of the shelves--at least, nothing labeled as Tropical Milkweed. Instead, all I saw was Tropical Milkweed disguised as Butterfly Weed.

This is, in my humble pollinator garden enthusiast opinion, a problem. At best, Lowe's--or the company they source their plants from--is mislabeling their plants on accident. Which could cause problems if people are buying the plants and putting them in a place that's not quite the right condition for them, or create severe disappointment if someone's excited to grow the native Asclepias tuberosa only to end up with something else entirely. At worst? Lowe's--or the company they source their plants from--are aware that people want to grow native milkweed and are either unable to or too lazy to grow them, and would rather try to get away with selling Tropical Milkweed--which has been growing increasingly controversial in some gardening circles--and still reap the benefits and profits of selling native milkweed species.

However, I'll be real? I'm not sure what exactly to do about it. So I guess I'm just letting everyone know; if you see 'Butterfly Weed (Asclepias tuberosa)' in your local Lowe's, at least double check. Otherwise, you may plant Tropical Milkweed/Scarlet Milkweed (Asclepias curassavica) instead.

[weaselle]

I once almost stabbed a guy. Being in a position where you are seriously actually for real considering stabbing someone is a wild moment, internally and externally.

So this was way back, baaack in the day, when i went to a lot of parties and also did a bunch of drugs. And my partner at the time and i were scoring some powder drugs from a guy we'd never met before on an acquaintance's sort of recommendation.

and he took so long that our other friend, who also did drugs with us, saw us waiting in the parking lot and stopped to say hi, chatted for a couple minutes, and left.

When the guy finally showed back up, we got a bunch of powder in a taped up zip lock, odd, but our acquaintance had said the product could be trusted, so i handed over a bunch of money and we parted ways

But lo and behold, we get back to the pad, bust out our score, and snort a big ol' victory line ... of chalk dust. It was chalk. Like what you write on a blackboard with. It was ground up to the right consistency, and I had paid a fair bit of money for it, but it was just a big ol bag of chalk dust. Also a sinus full of chalk dust.

Well. Y'know. I took it personal.

The guy was not answering any texts or calls of course (my first text was very reasonable, just sort of "haha, there seems to have been a mistake, but it's an easy fix, you just need to either give me what i paid for or give me my money back) But i was already chasing down other trails

I started backtracking through the acquaintance until i found out where this dealer was. I decide to show up at his door.

As soon as i got his location, i texted him for a third time and it had gotten firmer in tone "hey you either tell when and where to meet you so you can give me what i paid for or my money back, or i'm going to show up where you are and we're going to talk about it in person" Followed 20 minutes later with "I'm parked outside your house on my way to your front door unless you text me back right now."

Okay. i am aware of my situation here. I am about to stare this coked up methed out young twenties dude in his buggy eyeballs at his own front door and accuse him of cheating me on a drug deal. Tee hee hee i'm in danger.

So I came prepared. I had taken a pair of scissors and cut my front right pocket out so i could look like i had my hand casually in my pocket but i could really be holding the handle on an 8 inch knife blade. Which i was.

a line cook with my own knife set, i had chosen this knife, my kitchen utility knife, carefully. I can't find the exact one i had, but this one is very similar

It was long enough to give me significant reach advantage even if he had like a switchblade or pocket knife or something. The size was also selected for intimidation factor. This did also mean that it was heavy enough to slash with, and a good shape for stabbing, with just enough of a heel to act as a solid crossbar and prevent my fingers sliding up over the blade if the tip caught bone on a thrust.

Anyway, i text him as i'm getting out of the car and by the time i'm through his front gate he's running out the front door at me

we both stop in the middle of his front yard, half way between the gate and the front door.

And he's like, quiet-yelling at me, and all up in my face, and threatening me "you're lucky i don't kill you right now"

While i'm thinking my hip pocket is set low and diagonal, if i draw my hand out the right way, my arm will already be in a perfect position to thrust forward with the knife. If he pulls a weapon i have to be ready to get the first strike in

and then I'm like, do i stab him if he hits me? because if i'm fighting without the knife i'm fighting one handed, oh this is not good, how did i think this was going to go!? i have not been as smart as i though i was being.

but i started to realize, he was just blustering and bluffing and sort of panicked. He was definitely not in control of the situation. Which left it to me. And i was weighing whether or not honor meant refusing to be stolen from ripped off or cheated -- and being ready to fight for that. Or if maaaybe real honor was not being the kind of person who stabs another person to death over a stupid drug deal gone wrong.

Oh yeah. To death. If i stabbed him there was going to be a real chance of him dying. I uh. I only know deadly places to hit people with a knife. That's a strange thing you don't think of until you're in that moment, but when you're like, scared of someone, and asking yourself where to strike them with the knife, your list is short and deadly like

across the throat

up through the soft spot under the jaw and into the head

through the diaphragm angled left and up to also get the heart or lung careful don't hang the tip up on the sternum

inside thigh slash for femoral artery

Low front stab for life threatening wound to the intestines

around back same height for possible death through the kidneys careful don't hang the tip up against the spine

Manic slashing back and forth to keep opponent at bay and possibly open up enough wide shallow cuts to bleed them out.

Wherever you pick up your knifing information, there tends not to be a big focus on where to knife someone if you just want to like, scare them away. Or much training on how to stab someone juuuust enough to make them decide to not shoot you. Probably all the knifing information in your head is like "what can i do quickly that will make them dead"

So if I used the knife, it was going to be a real good chance of death, his, unless i fuck it up and he's got a gun, then it's a good chance of it being my death.

And i was like. How much money are we talking. How much money do i decide a human life is worth in this moment. While he threatens me in this weird way, clearly afraid of what his neighbors might hear.

$200? In that moment i thought, man, i would pay two hundred bucks to not have to stab this guy to death right now. And i can! I can walk away from my two hundred bucks and just... not stab this guy. That's a trade i can make right now.

So i said "alright alright, fine, you're right" to myself out loud in the middle of whatever he was ranting about and turned around and left.

I did eventually find out more. Like a month later through mutual acquaintances . Apparently the dude was on his way back to our car with our drugs when he saw our friend stop his car in the parking lot, get out and talk to us for a minute, and leave. And because our friend liked to dress in slacks and a vest and tie (with aviator sunglasses that day) this high on powder drugs dealer got spooked and thought maybe we were undercover and our friend was a cop checking in with us on trying to bust his ass.

So he, paranoid and panicked, goes back to his house and finds something less illegal to substitute, and comes back out and sells us chalk instead. He must have figured the jail time for selling fake drugs had to be less than for real drugs. idk why he didn't just NOT sell us anything, but. That's what happened. And my partner and her friends all were cool with him after they found that out.

But i never was, because he never gave me my money back.

Over hanging out with my so called friends a couple times talkin' bout "oh i already spent it and i'm pretty broke, sorry you know how it is."

And in my head i was like "i could have stabbed you. And i didn't"

But i never did tell him because there wasn't a point, it wouldn't magically make him have $200 (which he didn't have despite selling drugs because when you snort a lot of drugs you tend to be bad with money, and this dude hadn't started off good at it to begin with).

The real lesson was asking myself why was i involved in bad drug deals, and why would my friends be friendly with an asshole who cheated me out of half a paycheck, and relatedly, if my choices had perhaps gotten me deep into a bad lifestyle that i didn't much want to be in, full of people i couldn't trust.

Anyway, that's how i made the only single good decision made by anyone in that whole story, and didn't stab a guy to death over 200 dollars

[randomfoggytiger]

I did ask this to another blogger because I respect both of your viewpoints. I like hearing your analysis. I don't mean to send this to you also out of any disrespect.

OK..are Gillian and David really Mulder and Scully? Lack of communication that could clear up how they felt back in the days? He is like a little puppy and she is cold hard fierce who tries to shut off the world so she doesn't get hurt? No wonder they played those characters so well:) Thank goodness that THEY controlled the narrative to this discussion instead of having some kiss ass pompous interviewer trying to get them to truly talk about the tension so that we get "it was moist". Granted, that was a fun answer and brought out an interesting dynamic between the 2, but their frank and honest discussion is more true and loving. I love that D shared in the discussion and didn't take the interviewer seat like he has in the other podcasts. He actually participated in the real conversation and let it somewhat go in some areas naturally. Now, please, D or G, release the video so that we can see those lovely smiles and gazing eyes and, you know it happened, reaching out and touching each other.

I understand that completely, anon-- I used to (and still do) go to each inbox and ask the same question, even ones I'm principally against. Just want to know what they think, y'know?

Release the Gillian cut! XDDDD I don't think there is one; but maybe someone has clips on their phone of the two of them talking that day? That'd be fun.

You have a point, especially in the early days. David and Gillian were such young, green actors that Chris really had to cast for type.

But I WILL add: Half of the very close loved ones in my life are Gillian's (Gen X) generation, and the other half(ish) are David's (Boomer) or older. Each and every person I've talked to has said the same thing about the past: no one, and I mean no one, talked. Ever. Even in functional families; but especially in dysfunctional homes, with fragile mothers-- not without (varying) consequences. Communication was wired around what could be acceptably acknowledged without the whole house of cards tumbling down. Chris Carter slipped that into the themes of his show, too; and no wonder: his own childhood was turbulent, and communication a compoundingly fraught issue.

And I will also add, though I don't know how salient this point is: I have a Gen X mother who took one look at David, one look at Gillian, and a couple looks at their past interviews, and read them like a book. (So much so, that everything they admitted to in the podcast wasn't surprising, just confirming, for me.) I fed her bits of the Fail Better interview afterward, and she was nodding along to their interruptions and admittance that they had a hard time getting along-- she'd called that Gillian likely (accidentally) hurt David's feelings over the years unconsciously; and that DD grated on GA's nerves as much as she on his... and low and behold. But more importantly, she was nodding along to the communication issues section particularly: "Yes, that's how it was."

In short: I think Chris picked the people who could embody his characters' characteristics effortlessly. (But I also know, per his own words, that he cast for chemistry.) So, I agree¬.

What do you think, anon? :DDDDDD

Edit: Also agree concerning the pompous reporters. It was great to hear them without a third party trying to spin a narrative.

[byemambo]

Monster Next Door EP. 9: The Power of Expression - A Double Edge Sword

So it's been awhile since I posted any content of my own for MND, but this episode genuinely got me in the feels. I am curious whether or not there are lots of people tuning into the series because I feel like its promotion leans very playful and I'm sure for some, leaving very little room for there to break the confines of stereotypes surrounding MBTI and introversion/extroversion. However, like how I personally feel about We Are, both series have more underlying themes for those who can recognize its significant beneath the surface.

Disclaimer: this analysis will lean into my own personal connection with the character Diew, and I'll be highlighting themes such as loss of a loved one, neurodivergence, and other underlying themes of mental health and trauma. If that's something that could possibly be triggering/sensitive for some, I would just like to preface before y'all begin reading and be bombarded with some deep topics. Alright, everything is under the cut (extremely lengthy read)!

Diew's Childhood: Reverting Back into His Shell

For those who have tuned into the series, we understand that Diew has a hyperfixation of turtles, and we're sent back to a flashback montage to reveal more about his upbringing and family dynamic during childhood. We're also revealed more about Diew's connection with his father before he passed away, which low and behold: me and Diew share very similar stories as I've also lost my dad during childhood, which caused a lot of strain between me and my own mother just the same as Diew (for similar and different reasons in comparison). I might have not caught it trying to go back to find out the exact age Diew's father passed away, but the flashback gives us a rough estimation between his preteen-teenage years where a proper social relationship is established between the two.

When someone experiences traumatic events during critical developing years such as childhood and adolescence, many will remain rooted in those existing emotions and outsiders may view them for the "mental age" as our emotional growth becomes stunted. Because Diew had a close relationship between him and his father for all sorts of reasons that many people can relate to: having someone be your cheerleader, someone to introduce you to the world around us, someone to understand your own individualism and cater to it accordingly. However, I believe one of the biggest reasons for such a strong connection between Diew and his father is fairly simple: existing as the closest form of unconditional love.

Although the series hasn't stated it like The Rebound has, I personally believe Diew to be autistic, if not autistic, definitely someone of the neurodivergent experience. Even though the series revolves around the concept of MBTI, specifically categorizing Diew as your average introverted person navigating the world around him, I wholeheartedly believe his character is deeper than such a superficial label (which I believe is the main reason for why many might stray away from giving this series a chance). Even though I haven't been formally diagnosed with autism, I am diagnosed with ADHD as an adult while relating to various characteristics that are innate in autism, but many of these traits and experiences fall under the neurodivergent umbrella. I also think that the usage of the turtle archetype is incredibly powerful for the characterization of Diew: turtles are known by social norms as "slow," physically or mentally, "in their shell" aka shy/kept to themselves, and can be irritating to others because they're unaware of most "normal" social cues and are considerably lacking "common sense", etc.

In the opening sequence of the episode: we see the dynamic between Diew and his father, which as the episode progressed, we witness a conversation between the father and son about how books become doors to our own worlds that as I summarize: books become portals to our own worlds that make our ordinary lives extraordinary. Since the theme of the series is about next door neighbors meeting and falling in love with one another, I believe the relevance of Diew's love for books to be more significant than that: neurodivergent people tend to live in our own worlds.

In my experience which has developed into my own artistic branding: many of us live in a neurotypical world where we feel like an alien walking amongst other human beings, but we weren't given the travel guide or manual in understanding how to interact with them. Despite knowing that we're also living out the same human experience: nuance comes into play and for many, can hijack our lives for the worst. In Diew's circumstance as well as the average child: we are clean slates that deal with the concept of nature vs. nurture early on, as well as our environments playing critical roles in our personal development and how that development will in turn, affect how we interpret the world and engage with it.

Because Diew is a child who's quieter (in this case, not shy to interacting with others), this becomes a disruption in societal norms (which of course vary between culture to culture and other underlying intersectionalities based in race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, etc). For many neurodivergents, our engagement with the world around us breaks the pattern and mold of what society expects from each and every individual to maintain order. During childhood, most of us are our authentic versions of ourselves but hand ourselves over to the norms of society and its binaries. For many who learn from observation that their own silence and solitude is weaponized by those who adhere to the social norms, many teach themselves learned helplessness: what difference does it make if I were to speak up? It's not like anything would change because they still won't accept me for who I am.

I tend to speak in metaphors, but specific to my art background: while neurotypical society tends to interpret the world in grayscale, we tend to interpret the world in full color, as majority of us excel in pattern recognition and memory, are detail oriented, hypervigilant, and so much more. However, this experience can be overwhelming for many, which contributes to one's baseline in areas such as faulty social communication/interaction, sensory overload, mental dissonance, etc. We see this with Diew having a single close friend, wearing noise cancelling headphones to cut through sensory overload, having social anxiety during moments of being the center of attention or being asked to do things against his will and being reprimanded for honesty over "politeness."

Due to Diew's socialization and innate personality traits, his support system can act in one of two ways: acceptance or rejection/denial. Unfortunately, this is where the crossroad between his central support system begins: the desire to appease the social hierarchy of life and to come out on top, the selfishness of living life thorough the self interest of yourself or your family. To be the most recognized, the most well off, the most luxurious, the most successful, etc. For many parents that navigate the world with emotional immaturity, their priority lies in conformity over authenticity, their acceptance in changing themselves for the sake of appeasing the group. For them, nothing is more detrimental than being singled out and ridiculed/mocked: this insecurity becomes generational, this insecurity evolves into life-changing consequences such as hereditary mental health disabilities or the nurturing of one in a "normal" family. The toss up between acceptance versus denial sets itself in stone the moment moral value is assigned to one's character, when someone becomes of value based on the origin's value system.

This exchange between Diew's mother and father highlighted the moment Diew adheres to this moral belief: Diew is not like other kids. Well, what about me makes me not like other kids? In comes comparison, in comes self doubt, in comes perfectionism, in comes abnormality, in comes conflict, in comes all sorts of insecurities that take over the vulnerable: children who simply don't know any better because if mom and dad said so, it must be true, right? My parents can't be wrong about anything if it has to do with me? I am their child after all, I'm their blood, I'm the whole of two existing halves.

We have not received this context in the series, I could only put two and two together through my own lenses and what I know and experienced: the various trauma responses and coping mechanisms from each affected family member. Diew and social communication, Diew's mother and obsession with control, Diew's grandfather and undermining his physical health to maintain peace within their household. What becomes a reality check for most of us growing up as neurodivergent people: the moment we step outside of what we have been taught to believe, and finding out that we might have been wrong for most of our lives, that we've been living for all the wrong reasons. That we were living for others and not ourselves. That we cannot survive without the "care" of our loved ones: the same people who expect appraisal and worship while oppressing and undermining others in the same breath.

Intention vs. Principle: The Flaws of a Mind Reader

Although there were other moments in the previous episodes to strengthen the themes of this episode, I felt like the Phrae trip highlighted these reality checks once Diew has difficulty adjusting to God's boyfriend treatment, which is primarily acts of service. This also becomes a game of mind reading and taking away Diew's autonomy, another version of his mother and her severe control issues. The trip is another home away from home, where this behavior evolves into babying and coddling, but because the intent is out of their best wishes for Diew: damned if you do, damned if you don't becomes Diew's life motto which he slowly breaking away from after being introduced to new people in his life that showed him different experiences outside of his family and his ex boyfriend. That there are people who exist and accept him for him, that there's no reason to hide anymore.

What I appreciate throughout the scenes leading up to Diew's confrontation with God is how well Park portrays these moments of frustration and questioning God's integrity when it comes to verbal communication (his microexpressions are everything to me, saying so much with such subtlety). This is something that I have issues with as someone who describes herself as "open book," and find myself irritated whenever people are not straight forward about their intentions, or set expectations in one moment and abandon them at the drop of the hat. For us, because we tend to navigate the world with so much nuance, direct and clear communication is nonnegotiable, and if you have various mental health disabilities (I've checked into the game), the mental race to make connections and recognize the established pattern based on the evidence of prior engagements and experiences becomes instantaneous but also exhausting. But P'God had always known how to respect my boundaries...why is it changing? What made it change?

The café scene also highlighted Diew's hypervigilance, isolating the conversation between God and his friends. Because all of them tend to joke and speak with humorous undertones, social cues become incredibly difficult to decipher at times, especially with people who you haven't established expectations for communication with. Because God know his own friends but Diew does not at the same level of depth and experience, statements like these only invite more intrusive thoughts that continue to spiral as more stimuli piles on: God's friends and their lack of indoor voice in a quiet establishment, social cues pointing towards God botching the group's plans for "Diew's sake," inconsideration towards those occupying the same space and carrying themselves with entitlement, this scene stressed me out and I would have done the same as Diew in that moment. Because I'm being catered towards and everyone else is miserable because of it: I'm probably the problem then...because I'm not like other people and I'm difficult to understand and accompany. Honestly: this is why I shouldn't have come with them. I'm just burdening them.

Power of Communication: It Takes Two

This exchange not only went in the direction I was expecting it to go, but the resolve was incredibly sweet and heartwarming to me. Going back to the "damned if you do, damned if you don't" motto: what I find so special about Diew despite his superficial characteristics appearing "ungrateful" or "undeserving" to some is that his growth completely transforms the motto. Damned if you do, damned if you don't, but I'd be damned if I let this misunderstanding separate me from the person I love. What I appreciate about God on the receiving end was the navigation of this conversation and how both parties confront their innate ideologies and understanding. Diew prefaces the difficult conversation with praising God, not starting off the exchange with immediate criticism that would drive most insecure people away and tune out any revealing information afterwards. However, God allows Diew to finish his entire thought before proceeding with his response. which I anticipated as such: "I'm doing all of this for you and now you're saying you don't like any of it, so that makes me the bad guy then."

The beautiful moment that had me rooting for Diew was the confidence in standing his ground, something that we've seen develop in him as the story progresses during exchanges with people such as Jane and his mother. That he has autonomy, that he has a voice that is heard and accepted for what it is and not what it's "supposed" to be, that he can be understood because he may not be like other people, that was never the problem, which actually lies with everyone unwilling to become the person they need to be for him: that his boundaries may force you to reevaluate the way you carry yourself in this dynamic and no longer hold the power within your hands. The moment of recognizing that we become victims to the world by choice and the confinements of our own body and mind, and that the world may never truly reveal itself to those who deliberately choose ignorance over awareness: the choice of empowerment over oppression.

On the opposite side of this exchange, God goes through a revelation: the misstep in passive listening. Many people, especially those with faulty communication and emotionally perplexed, only engage in communication to hear what they want to hear. To identify within the confines of the binary: good vs. bad, like vs. dislike, yes vs. no. During the first half of the conversation of reassuring God with positive reinforcement, Diew softens the blow that will most likely arise: the potential of punishing someone else for doing a "good" thing. Insecurity feeds off of self identification, rooting itself as a core belief once someone turns that delusion into a false reality: the moment Diew says "I really don't like it" becomes that signal for confirmation bias to rush in. Win's prior qualms against him despite being in the same band, Jane antagonizing Diew while also putting God down in the process, and I'm sure so much more. If not properly dealt with and nipped at the bud: these intrusive thoughts become a breeding ground for toxicity to occur and cause a rift in the dynamic from an exchange of false words. But through his own personal development and growth: God was able to turn a not so pleasant moment into another piece of evidence that he is a safe space for Diew to unmask and keep the conversation true to himself. Rather than chasing Diew back inside his shell, he only invites Diew to continue remaining in his authentic self.

Emotional Dumping: The Arrival of Guilt and Shame

This part of the episode almost ran me over ten different times: it made me feel seen, it made me feel heard, it made me feel represented. All because I've literally had this exact same thing happen to me (and more) with my own mother, so this moment felt incredibly personal to me and understood Diew on a deeper level than most viewers might have not even considered when watching this series. When your family goes through a grief as difficult as the death of a parent, the drastic switch from a two parent household to a one parent household is absolutely devastating, especially when your children are young. Single parents if they choose to remain single stretch themselves thin, they are constantly overwhelmed with doing all they could and still unable to scratch the surface with many things, and unfortunately most of them trap themselves with egocentrism by comparing themselves to an alternative life unlived if their partner were still present. Most of them subscribe to a life filled with "debt" that requires repayment: this repayment is their kids believing in the narrative of being a burden, of being owed to repay back every little piece of ourselves to our parents, of being told that we cannot survive without their involvement (some even going as far as using the existence of their own children to support their entitlement for reparations), of simply existing to uplift their parent at the cost of their own autonomy and self worth.

"And I a bad son?" I don't think I could really describe the emotions I was experiencing when I witnessed this exchange of words, because I've had this conversation in my own life on multiple occasions verbatim. The headspace Diew occupies when it comes battling this internal struggle between being a "good" son while also expecting his mother to be a "good" mother, and the devastation that comes along with realizing that those two conditions may not actually exist. The progress Diew achieves from being someone who was intimidated by person to person interactions, someone who people benefited from his own silence and inability to confront others, someone who deep down deals with a battle of justifying his own value due to inconsistent value judgments from his core support system, brings me to tears because for many of us, myself included, deal with this level of trauma to the point where therapeutic intervention and personal accountability for debunking and redefining our core beliefs that have deeply planted themselves inside of us may be the only solution to properly negating all that we've known. That no matter what I do, I'll never be good enough, not even for my own mother.

God's response to this moment of being told such a personal matter (even if it was only the surface) honestly continues to heal parts of me little by little and living through Diew vicariously. The development of their relationship and taking the appropriate time to address various areas in their dynamic: some days will be baby steps, other days will be strides, on occasion full speed, every now and then there will be rain checks. But the one thing that will remain a constant: I'm willing to embark on this journey with you by my side.

Honorable Mention: There's No Place Like Home

Ok time to ACTUALLY go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight: thank you for those who made it down here, I bring cookies! 🍪 But on a more serious note: my ears are always open to feedback or any thoughts others might have. I appreciate MND for having this level of characterization for these two and I can't wait to see what else they'll get thrown into even better if Pee gets socked in the face by God but of course on Diew's terms. Alright good night <3