#I have to. think about whether this should be so.

[allllium]

Jason Todd x childhood friend fem

fluff and potential angst

Jason runs into childhood friend from befor he died and she recognizes him

Back in Time

[ Jason Todd x Childhood Best Friend!Reader ]

~ Fluff, Maybe a little hurt/comfort, WC: 1,089

~ I'm so sorry this took so long 😭 Every time I went to write this it's like all ideas flew out of my head, but I finally got it done and I hope it meets your expectations<3

"Jason?"

He freezes.

He wasn't expecting to hear your voice today.

He wasn't expecting to hear your voice ever again.

Once he came back, you were gone.

He would say he tried to look for you but that isn't true. He thought your leaving was the universe telling him to leave you alone.

But now you're here. You're here and you recognize him. He doesn't know how to respond. He knows you know he heard you, otherwise he wouldn't have stopped moving.

The first thing he hears in your voice is the sadness. Not anger like he would've expected. Not even a hint of confusion. Just something sad.

After a minute of him being unmoving, clearly lost in his thoughts, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Jason." You say.

This time it's not a question.

After he hears you a second time, he brings himself to turn around and look at you.

"Hey."

"Hey." He can't tell if you're about to cry or smile.

"I'm sorry." He immediately apologizes. Maybe for leaving or maybe for not finding you. He's not quite sure.

"For what?" You ask and take a deep breath.

He sees the way tears form in your eyes and has the strange urge to cry himself.

"I don't know. I just feel like I need to."

"You don't. Dick told me what happened. That's not something you need to be sorry for." You say it so surely he doesn't know how to respond.

"I was gonna find you."

"That's not your job. I mean a phone call would've been nice." You shrug and let out a small, awkward chuckle.

"I didn't know what to do." He tells you quietly.

"I would assume." You look around the sidewalk you're on. You're standing in front of what looks like a busy shop, people walk in and out every couple seconds.

"Where did you go?" He asks you after a moment. Probably to determine whether or not he could've found you.

"I was here. I mean I stayed in Gotham just not where I was before."

"If I had known you were so close I would've gone to you but when they told you left I assumed-"

"Jason, you don't have to defend yourself." You cut him off quickly, "If I died and came back the last thing on my list would be finding someone who left."

He nods. "This might be easier if you were at least a little mad." He smiles softly at you, watching more tears shine in your eyes.

"I missed you too much to be mad right now."

He goes to say something back but someone walking by bumps into your shoulder.

"Maybe we should get coffee or something?" He suggests, not wanting to keep blocking the sidewalk traffic.

"Are you free?"

"Oh yeah, yeah." Dick can wait, he thinks to himself.

"Then yeah, coffee sounds great."

You both walk into the coffee shop and order whatever drinks sound good. Jason chooses a table against the wall and by a giant window.

You sit awkwardly in silence as you both try and think of what to say.

"How are you doing?" You ask, after multiple minutes of nothing.

"I'm okay, I think." He shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. You take notice of his fingers tapping nervously along the side of the cup.

"That's good." You nod and sigh.

"How are you?"

"I've been better." You answer honestly. Your fingers also tap nervously along your cup.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why this is so weird."

You laugh at his words, "I do. It's been a while."

"And I'm guessing we've both changed." He smiles.

"Changed? No shit Jason, look at you." You smile at him in a reassuring way. You can clearly see how dying has changed him.

"Yeah I guess I did get a little taller." He jokes and shakes his head.

"Maybe just an inch or two." You play along, laughing as you speak.

"I missed this. I missed you." He tells you with a sudden seriousness in his tone.

"Well good thing it isn't going away this time." You reach across the table and grab his hand.

It was never unusual for you and Jason to be touchy. That's just the kinda friendship you had. But this feels different.

Instead of being a friendly touch between best friends, it's more like a reassurance that's he's actually alive. A piece of you feels relief that you're not imagining this.

"I really hope so." He wishes with a frown.

"It won't. If you think I'm leaving your side anytime soon you're very very wrong."

"What's one more person to the gang that follows me everywhere?" He laughs again and squeezes your hand. It's the first time he's felt so free to last in a while.

"Where is that gang by the way? I would've expected one of them to be here by now."

"Oh I left while they weren't looking. I needed time to myself."

"You snuck out? Jason, they're probably panicking." You scold him softly.

"It's fine I'm meeting with Dick later."

You shake your head in disapproval but a smile on your face gives you away once again.

For some reason no matter how sad you are, a smile can't leave your lips.

You fall back into a silence but this time it's not awkward at all. It's a comfortable silence that reminds you of old times.

"I should probably get going. Dick will be pissed if I'm late."

"Yeah I don't doubt it." You recall the many times Dick has given long lectures about being late to anything he's involved in.

"I'll call you." He swears, standing up from his seat at the table.

"You better. I know where to find you." You stand up as well and finish off your drink.

"Yes you do." He agrees but doesn't leave.

You stand together in front of your table. Both of you are waiting for the other to move first.

Just as you're about to make the move to leave he steps forward and pulls you into a hug.

You immediately hug back and feel the tears reappear in your eyes.

"I really missed you." He whispers.

"I really missed you too." You whisper back.

You savor every moment of the embrace. Not wanting to leave out of fear that he would leave again.

But as you watch him walk away to meet with his brother, you're overcome with the happiness of knowing your best friend is here.

[blanketforcas]

In the spirit of Making Things as a form of healing, whether through stories or art, or memes that make us laugh, I present to you:

✨ Electric Boogaloo: a destiel event ✨

This event welcomes any type of fan content: fic, art, amvs, poetry, memes, edits, web weaves,… silly or earnest, whatever works for you!

Obviously, given we’re celebrating the latam dub, this event focuses on destiel. You could use this opportunity to use a Spanish song, lyrics, or whatever else for your creations, but don’t worry, this is not a requirement.

The main theme is of course reciprocation but if you need more inspiration, here are some prompts you can use:

bisexual lighting

darkness before the dawn

gentle touch

tacos for two

whispered conversations

🌈 this is a low-effort friendly event. we're all going through a weird time right now. fandom is an escape and should be something joyful. it's not work, i'm not your boss. go have fun!

🌈 given the theme of this event, the focus is destiel, but definitely feel free to include other characters in your work. this goes without saying i think, but this event is not inc*st-friendly

Please use the tag #boogaloo25 (and feel free to tag me) so i don't miss your post!

Note: there are no restrictions on anything ns*fw. I trust everyone to use their own discretion both in creations and in who you reblog things from. Try to respect other people's "minors dni" where relevant.

This Meghan Fitzmartin quote is what I keep thinking of when I think about why seeing Dean's explicit reciprocation is so important to us:

hope any of this inspires you! i'm excited to see what you come up with. happy creating and happy celebrating of one of fandom's wildest broken destiel seals ❤️ see you all on nov 25th, 2024!

[ganxiously]

So, it turns out what I needed to get out of my writer's block was soul-wrenching grief and heart-crushing disappointment. And while I am happy about that (to an extent), I also wish my muse wasn't angst because I think I am hurting myself writing this fic and I need to now make it everyone else's problem.

Sitting there in the dark, on Eddie’s sofa, curled in on himself like it’s supposed to do anything to hold him together, one thought pops into his head, bright, neon red and in bold among the constant litany of boorish, black ‘This is all my fault’ — All of this is because I didn’t know what a Kinsey six is. The thought is unexpected enough that Buck unfurls a little, wondering where it came from and then he remembers their anniversary date. The memory leaves him breathless but he is curious enough to push past the newly burgeoning hurt and take out his phone. A quick Google reveals it to be the rating for ‘exclusively homosexual’ on the Kinsey scale so he looks that up next and as he’s debating whether to start from Wikipedia first or dive right into the Kinsey Institute website, his eyes land on the conspicuous ‘test online’ button right below the search bar. A part of him doesn’t want to find out, doesn’t want anyone else telling him what he is but the taunt is too much. If you had known, if you had just taken a moment to figure yourself out, maybe you could have said something. Maybe you could have stopped him before he walked away. He clicks on the first test that pops up, looks at the first question, goes to select option 1 and then stops and stares. ‘To whom are you attracted?’ should be an easy question to answer but the confidence to not think much has left him. He could easily choose ‘Both men and women’ but would that even be correct? He’s been so sure that he has felt attraction towards men a few times in the past but what if that was a mild interest at best? After all, no one had really pinged his radar the way Tommy had. He looks at the next question and that’s when the panic really starts to set in because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he prefers men over women or if he just prefers Tommy over women, over everyone else. What if Tommy is the outlier and he prefers women over men after all? The pressure in his chest becomes more and more painful the longer he stares at it so he closes the test and opens the next one on the list. That one starts off mild. The way the first question is framed makes it easy to answer that yes, while he mostly notices women, the occasional man does turn his eyes. The next one asks what he would be comfortable in calling himself and he thinks he could get away with calling himself bisexual but then there’s an option saying ‘could be bisexual but not sure if that’s correct‘. And again the thought hits, What if it’s just Tommy? He debates it briefly and then gives in and chooses the latter option. He breezes through the next couple of questions because he is at least sure that he would find it desirable to kiss people from both genders but then they hit him with the sexual preference question again. He backs out so fast his phone nearly slips out of his hand and with a sigh of frustration, he clicks on the next test. That turns out worse because the very first question stalls him and so it continues again and again and again until tears start prickling at the corner of his eyes and his breath starts coming in sharp, short bursts pulling his throat tight but not taking any air to his lungs. He keeps at it until there’s one more nameless person behind one more useless test clamouring at him, Tell us, tell us, tell us. Tell us you know what you want. He hurls the phone across the room, thankful when instead of landing on the floor, it silently hits the backrest of Eddie’s armchair and slides down into the crease with a swoosh. He should get up and retrieve it, he should go home really but what he does instead is let his head fall forward onto his raised knees and give in to the caricatured voice of his mind telling him, Of course, he thought you would break his heart. Look at yourself, you idiot.

This is basically just the set-up for the fic but rest assured I am dragging Buck down to the trenches before I let him swim up to Tommy again.

[faelapis]

so... i don't disagree. but i want to acknowledge that a lot of leftists are inclusive to average white dudes. people like hasan piker has a very "bro-y" image that appeals to young guys. yet they don't get the giant platforms of your ben shapiros or your charlie kirks. they're not economically boosted by billionaires who share their ideals. they don't appear in your youtube ads. why?

well, a lot of it is the material reality of being a leftist.

the right owns most of the podcast circuit and have billions poured in to dominate the content that young men are interested in. the left can't really do that, because we don't have a bunch of rich benefactors. our politics don't benefit the ultra-wealthy.

also, regardless of how nice the left is, right-wing grifters will always find a cherrypicked anecdote of someone who isn't. they will always be an "angry SJW" on a college campus. or mean comments online. it's impossible to make every single leftist nice. we can try, but it won't realistically happen.

most feminists don't say all men are bad. most leftists don't say all white guys are the devil. and the right knows that. but charlie kirk or ben shapiro will always find some "SJW" to mock. their job is to say that the whole left hates you - regardless of whether that's true.

of course, i still think we should strive towards more empathy. i just want to put it into a material context.

i also think young men's pain go beyond social ills like getting rejected/feeling lonely. the big problem, i think, is that homes are too expensive to buy. they're unemployed. they're in debt. they're working 2-3 minimum wage jobs that don't pay enough to move out of their parents houses. no confidence peptalk will fix that.

which is why i think the leftist project should focus on the universality of class struggle. talk about the similarity between our problems, not just our individual identities. having content "for white bros" is nice, but the core of leftist struggle is universal.

and that's something only the left can provide. the right can try, sure. they can pretend to be populists or act like they hate the capitalist establishment, but that'll always be a grift. trump will never raise the minimum wage or make health care affordable for the average guy. he'll never actually "drain the swamp."

i don't think appealing to white dudes is a special science. maybe i'm wrong, but my hypothesis is that it's not impossible to convince these guys - if we offer them something. they need to feel like it's about their freedom, not just everyone else's.

bernie sanders understood that. he was very popular with young men. he's not a lifestyle influencer or an Alpha Male (tm), he's just an old guy who wants you to have healthcare. he was SO popular with young men that his supporters were called "bernie bros!" that was supposed to be "bad!" but he actually got white dudes into leftism!

the clear message, from the entire, UNIFIED left, needs to be that we're all in this together. it's about universal liberation from the capitalist machine. it's a tough fight, but we can do it if we're willing to unite and understand that our struggle is the same.

i think leftism is about love. and that love should be for everyone.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[markrosewater]

You say that magic is ever evolving and therefore closer to its roots than it's ever been. I think the problem is, when people try to tell you adding spiderman is a bad thing, is these are the people who followed the very story Wizards took the time to create and to them it's something sacred. They're the people who either grew up with the Purifying Fire, or actually rooted for the Gate watch. The people who cheered when Nicol Bolas went down. I think those are the people who are sad to see Spiderman eating up that space. It's like your favorite series but the plot is totally different. It's the story people care about, whether told through the cards or the Wizards website. That Wizards made us care about only to then tell us it doesn't matter. Fans don't like it when that happens. I feel you must understand deep down.

I do understand why people dislike Universes Beyond. I am very invested in Magic’s creative. I spent time creating Magic story (The Weatherlight Saga). I’ve done card concepting. I’ve done names and flavor text. There was even a few years where I managed the creative team.

There was even a time when I shared those beliefs about what Magic’s creative should and shouldn’t be, and was firmly against outside properties on Magic cards. I understand you all because for a long time I was you.

But what Magic is and is not isn’t decided by any one person. It’s decided by the collective consciousness of all of us.

I don’t personally like Walls as a creature type. Commander isn’t my personal cup of tea. And as a player, I’m not a fan of discard. But those are all a part of Magic because the amalgam of Magic players wants it to be part of the game, and I respect that being part of the Magic community is letting each player have the ability to enjoy what they love about the game.

Note when we started Universes Beyond, we weren’t sure what the player response would be. We dipped our toe in slowly. We limited what formats it appeared in.

We then looked at the data. Most players just wanted access to the cards they wanted to play, and didn’t care what the creative that was on it, so over time we leaned more in that direction.

But look, if there’s a large enough playerbase that cares, we’ll respond. If you really want a Universes Beyond free format, make one. If it gets enough player support, we’ll follow suit.

Remember, we didn’t make Commander. The players did. When it got popular enough, we tried out a product, and the success of that product convinced us to make more.

We really do follow the will of the players. If what you feel is important to you, find fellow players who feel the same way. Get enough together and I promise we’ll take notice.

Right now the data that we see, says that isn’t the case, but I’m always happy when the amalgam of players shows us we’re wrong. If that happens, we’ll pivot. We always do.

[ofpd]

1st century roman siege of jerusalem dashboard simulator

🐮 barkamtza

why does this shit always happen to me

#oh my goddd the ONE time it seems like people actually wanna hang out with me. #turns out they meant to invite kamtza instead #everyone hates me and i was SO fucking nice i offered to pay for the party #god i'm so pathetic. kms kms kms #they're gonna pay for this i swear #delete later

0 notes

📜 zekharya-ben-avkolas

Ok so obv it's not ok to sacrifice a blemished calf but the blemish is just on the eyelid? So maybe it's ok? But also and i don't want people to start going around thinking that it's ok to sacrifice blemished animals. But the thing is that if i don't bar Kamtza will tell the Romans we insulted them and that will be bad probably. And like no one likes bar Kamtza anyway will people really miss him..... but ugh neither of these seem like good things to do i don't feel like it's my place to make a decision about this :/

32 notes

🏛 vespasian reblogged

🏺neronero

off to war wish me luck! 🇲🇪🏹

🏺neronero

nvm guys. ✡️✡️

🏛 vespasian

my turn lol

53 notes

🧑🏽‍🦳 not-an-airport reblogged

🧑🏽‍🦳 not-an-airport

Hey everyone! These are difficult times, and some friends and I have put together some mutual aid resources for our community to have access to wheat, barley, wine, salt, oil, and wood! More info below the cut. Take care of yourselves! 🫶

Read more

🧑🏽‍🦳 not-an-airport

fuck

7,235 notes

⚔️ biryonei-yerushalayim

anonymous asked:

Hey, I'm trying to ask this in good faith, and I hope you can take it that way. how can you possibly defend burning our grain stores. I understand that you want to radicalize more people but you're taking things too far. Jerusalem's blood is on your hands.

anon, what you need to understand is that the blame for the carnage in jerusalem lies primarily in the hands of the roman invaders and secondarily in the hands of the rabbis for refusing to resist. would you have told the hashmonaim not to resist their oppressors by any means necessary? just because this is getting inconvenient for you doesn't mean we shouldn't be doing it. it's frankly offensive that you'd imply that we, the defenders of jerusalem, should incur any blame for her current state.

#biryonim.answer #grain storage discourse

231 notes

🛡 goel-yisrael

did anyone else see the "zealot blocklist" going around lmaooo

#how do these liberals expect anyone to take them seriously #do they not have anything better to do.

7 notes

📚 stammaim reblogged

stopbeingpoor-deactivated3830102

ughh why is my servant so incompetent! i deserve the best flour why doesn't he get it...

stopbeingpoor

ykw i'll go get some myself. i'm desperate at this point i gotta do something

stopbeingpoor

EWWWW update: i stepped in something NASTY. this is why i don't fucking go out oh my god im gonna die

stopbeingpoor

gonna throw my gold & silver away for the good of the peasants or whatever it's not like it's any use to me when im literally dying -_-

📚 stammaim

lmao look at this it's exactly what yehezkel was talking about! ur gold won't save you!

#yehezkel #marta b. baitos

162 notes

🕎 yalla-hapoel

🌿 amicus-iudaeorum asked:

Hey, love your posts! They're very informative about the Jewish perspective on this war. I'm just wondering whether you condemn the actions of the zealots? I don't really feel comfortable following someone who supports that.

are you fr.

#if youre seriously concerned about this idt this is the blog for you i fear

28 notes

🛡 goel-yisrael reblogged

📖 ben-zakkai

⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️ lol

🛡 goel-yisrael

? what does this mean

🗡 abbasikkara

dw about it bestie

🛡 goel-yisrael

ok 💗 yay 💗

6 notes

👩🏽‍🌾 discoursedumpblog

I've compiled a list of some of the most rabid zealots on this website. Remember, don't engage, just block and move on.

Read more

152 notes

🏛 vespasian reblogged

🏛 vespasian

some jew got an audience with me & called me king (im literally not lol thats so disrespectful to the actual king + if i was king then he shouldve met w me much earlier??), i think i should kill him

🏛 vespasian

AND my shoe is being so annoying. horrible day 👎

📖 ben-zakkai

omg just came across this old post

🏛 vespasian

OMG sorry i don't mean it anymore 🙏

14 notes

🫒 a-simple-yid

yirmiyahu tzadak...

#not to pretentiously quote tanakh but literally like. #hashiveinu hashem eilekha venashuva hadeish yameinu kekedem.

3 notes

[meta-squash]

I think two of the most important things about Jack Harkness, two things that inform almost everything he does and the choices he makes, are this: that he is a soldier NOT a leader, and that his entire life since childhood has been awash in survivor's guilt (and his whole existence after becoming immortal is an even more extreme version of survivor's guilt).

Jack is not a natural leader. He can think on the fly and he's good at getting people to listen to him, but he's not good at control, or at being objective. He's a natural second in command, he's a soldier. He was brought up to do what other people told him to, and to improvise if he had to (Time Agency, etc). But I really don't think he wants to be the leader of Torchwood. Unfortunately, everything about him means that he has to be. He knows from experience that others having control over him is dangerous, others knowing about his immortality while he's a subordinate to them is dangerous, and he also knows that his own immortality gives him an advantage as a leader. But I don't think he's good at leading. He tries to be. But he's fumbling along, in a time period he's not native to and a planet he's not native to and an unfathomable lifespan, and as charming as he is I think he's often not good with people. He's detached where he should be personal and emotional where he should be detached (or at least more level-headed). He's often too extreme or not harsh enough when it comes to things like discipline or dealing with the problems/traumas/mistakes of his employees or even civilians. He can't handle his employees seeing him uncertain/vulnerable and it makes for huge problems over and over again.

But all of this does make sense because I think in the back of Jack's mind there's always this wheel spinning, these gears turning and turning and calculating the impact and trauma each of his actions or decisions or the events around him are going to have on his own emotions for far longer than normal humans tend to consider. Because the catalyst for any part of the life we see him leading is survivor's guilt. He lost his father and his brother on the same day, joined the military and lost his best friend, joined the Time Agency and lost his memories (and maybe thinks he did something terrible). Then he died, and when Rose brought him back, he was all alone on the satellite with nothing but the corpses of the people who had fought beside him and zero explanation as to why he survived, and he had lost Rose and the Doctor besides. And then all his life on earth since, he has lost coworkers and lovers and civilians he tried and failed to save and probably also aliens he tried and failed to save. And I think by the time he becomes reluctant leader of Torchwood, every action is, whether conscious or subconscious, taken with the intent of minimizing that kind of trauma and the impact of loss.

Except that I think that the survivor's guilt has another layer to it, which is that feeling of needing to sacrifice or absolve himself in some way. No one else is willing to make the difficult decisions, no one else will move forward with the painful and unpleasant actions, even if there's no other way, even though they will someday perish and no longer see the ripples of their actions. But Jack - who cannot die, who must live with the guilt or the pain or the trauma of those actions and decisions for the rest of his very very very long life - is the one who realizes that he must take on those painful responsibilities and must do certain things even though they're terrible, because it ends up being the sacrifice of one over the whole world. And every single time, he's guilty about it, and that makes him want even more to sacrifice his own hurt for the grief and loss of others.

So it's this strange cycle of wanting to protect himself from hurt and from loss and from the survivor's guilt, but being driven by guilt towards painful and/or self-sacrificing actions. Which then makes him fear being seen as vulnerable or uncertain, and he struggles to do things on a smaller scale or in a more level-headed way, because he's not supposed to be leading like this, it's not something that comes naturally, and if he makes emotional connections by being a leader, he'll end up trapped in survivor's guilt yet again each time one of his employees or friends or lovers dies.

It's just a terrible cycle and he's trapped in it for the rest of his existence. Although if he really is the Face Of Boe, then I imagine at some point he eventually finds peace with it all or something, but I think so long as he has a human-form he's stuck with this cycle of leadership and loss and sacrifice and mistakes.

I think it's really important that Jack is not good at his job as a leader. He makes a ton of mistakes, he fucks up so much and his employees or even civilians end up collateral damage, whether physically or just emotionally. He wants to be a good leader, I think, and he's trying, but he's fallible, and he's a stranger in literally every sense, and I think a really big part of his character is that he constantly is forced to live in this bizarre dichotomy where he has to be both very distant and cold and detached, and also very emotional and intense and personal. And any other person would collapse under the stress of repeating that over and over and over again for decades, but he has to figure out how to navigate this weight as an infinite existence that can't ever collapse or let it burn him up and kill him.

[glorioustidalwavedefendor]

To people who are like:

"dON'T wHISH tHE cONSEQUENCES oF tHEIR oWN fREE wILL aND cHOIC eON pEOPLE wHO:

Voted for Trump

Deliberately decided not to vote at all (thereby voting for trump, since if you don't vote you are still registered so you are supporting who ever has the most votes simply by existing)

Voted third party (In a two party system votig third party is a voice for the strongets party in this case Trump)"

I have to say

a) Thought crimes don't exist, anyone is allowed to wish anything on anyone

b) Those voters wanted to inflict the consequences of their own free desicions on everyone else, with horrible results, it is only fair to want them to suffer as well after all: Ignorantia juris non excusat

c) They will never help to undo what they have wrought, they already showed their true face, and their true face is that they either can not be arsed to do enough research to understand what they are voting for OR they do understand but have decided: “Vulnerable people should die for my ideology”

Look at all those blogs that told you they would not do damage control

Where are they now?

Are they helping?

Are they sharing resources and tips?

NO

They are being defensive that no one is gratefull about their sacrifice

They are pissed that peope are angry at them

Besides

Activism is not cold-calling.

SO why should you care about peopel that have already shown that they will not listen to you?

-> Someone pointed out that no one who has already decided how to vote wil chnage that opinio becasue of a stranger on the internet True But then why expect that stranger to show compassion and kindness? Go one stranger, laugh! You earned it!

Keep your comfort for people who did not bring this on to themslefes

They need it more

They will suffer just as much if not more, but they didn't even get whtathey wanted

Also

Also

One thing that I think is a fantastic way to prepare to help is to either begin or continue learning a language that you don't know. I am working hard on my Spanish because I live in California and there are a ton of Spanish speakers here who I might be able to help. Is it directly aiding anyone right at this second that I'm practicing conjugation? No. But it might help someone who is being harassed by a cop, or who is unhoused and needs help, or who is being abused by an employer at some point in the future, and I can get myself ready to help. Learn how to use naloxone and pick up up an inhaler; you might not need it now, but it'll make you ready to help someone who does need it. Order free covid tests every chance you get, even if you don't need them, because then you can give them out to people who do need them. Plan B has a multi-year shelf life. Pick some up so that you've got some on hand if someone needs it.

Also

Also

(Also, you can get 4 months of over the counter birth control (progestin-only pill form) at Costco for $50. Or 3 months on Amazon for about $45.)

Trump voters on tiktok are EXTREMELY mad about the following:

They just found out what tariffs are

They just found out what denaturalization is

They (particularly black and Hispanic trump voters) just found out that other trump voters are racist

Leftists and liberals don't want to be their friends (they are furious about this)

Leftists keep telling them they hope they get what they voted for (they are really mad about this too)

[dropthedemiurge]

Love for Love's Sake: Bоnus Stаge (spoilers!!)

Love For Love's Sake (Love Supremacy Zone): bonus stagе is a short spin-off story from the author of the original novel, released in June 2024 (after the drama series). It's about 19yo Tae Myungha (from Game World) being transferred into the future and him slowly realizing how 29yo Myungha has been living happy 10 years with Cha Yeowoon and friends.

I promised to keep talking about it and thank you, guys, for enabling me xD Before translating bits from chapters, here's the full summary of everything that happened in this story – for those of you who are not that patient and don't fear spoilers :] I'll put them under more anyway so those who don't want to read the summary won't read them accidentally!

Warnings: suicidal intentions

Let me know your thoughts about this spinoff *д*

Love for Love's Sake: Bonus Stage (summary)

"If your life was a book, what would you want it be about?" "How would the first chapter begin and what sentence would be the last one?" "I wish it was about love."

19yo Myungha (so before canon timeline) is playing games in PC cafe. He doesn't really have money but wants to spend time so he wouldn't have to live it

On the crossroad, he sees a child running before the signal changes, and he jumps to save them but instead of getting hit, he feels like falling. He sees sunbae who pushes him. Message [World has been changed] appears.

Myungha finds himself in the arms of a handsome man who knows him - but he doesn't know this man. Myungha runs away but the man is faster.

[Mission: Make Tae Myungha happy.] [Reward: Memory] [Clear until (0%) ♥♥♥♥♥] [Penalty: Can't return to the original timeline]

Myungha is diagnosed with amnesia. He should be 29yo now, so he just goes along. Yeowoon decides to start over again and introduces himself.

Yeowoon and Myungha have been living together for 6 years and dating for 10 years. 19-Myungha is shocked to know this.

Ahn Sia, Kyunghoon and Sangwon immediately run to check whether Myungha is okay, 19-Myungha is shocked that people worry about him and they've been friends for 10 years.

Yeowoon asked if Myungha would hypothetically date him - just to make sure - but he still wouldn't let Sangwon in before others come (he's sooo jealous)

Sangwon finds younger Myungha a lot of fun, Yeowoon wants to fight with him. Others come, so they try to figure out what's happening.

29yo Myungha is a teacher respected by kids. The girl in his class wanted to kill herself so she went to the rooftop, Myungha ran after her but ended up falling down, and Yeowoon caught him (19-Myungha)

Sia is a shopping mall CEO and a popular influencer now, Kyunghoon does photography/filming professionally, Sangwon introduces himself as 'the one who Myungha rejected when he was 18yo'.

Everyone wants to have chicken and beer but 19-Myungha is a minor so they have chicken and cola and a group sleepover at Myungha/Yeowoon's house :]

Yeowoon tried to sleep with Myungha in one bed but eventually ran away to the living room, flustered.

They all decide to do a trip down the memory lane, since Myungha is "having amnesia".

Yeowoon is a gold medalist now, and many kids go to Shinyeop school now because he made it prestigious.

They visit old Yeowoon's house, and Yeowoon quietly tells him they had kissed here for the first time (on the stairs) 19-Myungha is flustered because he feels feelings that he doesn't know the source of. But he never had his first kiss, never thought about ideal type or love so he's can't stop thinking about it. He tried to take Yeowoon's hand but ran out of time.

After this trip, in the car Myungha clears 20% of his mission and sees flashbacks from the 10 passed years: how they were grilling meat at the rooftop, how they played at the sea.

Yeowoon went to the store to get ice cream, while Myungha and Sangwon were left alone waiting. Sangwon told 19-Myungha about precious memories with him (dogs!), how he was his first love and he kept regretting what if he made a different first impression on Myungha – and now he can.

So he asks for one more chance to start over but gets rejected because Yeowoon was faster once again. Sangwon accepts that his first love is finally over and walks away.

Yeowoon says he likes Myungha more anyway, but 19-Myungha doesn't know it so Yeowoon says he'll teach him. They go to amusement park (closed again) by the sea.

Myungha insists on going to the popular cafe, Yeowoon is hesitant but doesn't reveal the truth until Myungha meets his mom there. Yeowoon takes him away in a hurry as 19-Myungha wants to talk to her in anger. Myungha cries. He thinks if he didn't have Yeowoon next to him now, his mom's reaction would be his last straw.

Mission is cleared to 40%. 19-Myungha sees 18yo Yeowoon crying and being comforted by "him".

19-Myungha thinks the person Yeowoon fell in love with is nothing like him, so he runs away. Yeowoon catches up with him.

Suddenly, they meet his fans. 19-Myungha is confused to learn he's quite popular and has 100k followers on his YT channel where he's been posting vlogs for 10 years (Yeowoon made him do it). He's used to being widely hated as a Crazy Dog, and not widely loved.

19-Myungha doesn't want to restore memories because he doesn't want to return to his original timeline. But he also feels acutely that 29-Myungha is a very different person from him. So he openly tells Yeowoon about the game mission, and Yeowoon believes him.

They return home, and 19-Myungha notices that Yeowoon still cherishes him like they were new lovers and not 10yo couple that usually feels like a family. Yeowoon was testing his reaction to skinship. Myungha calls him to sleep and teases him for having dirty thoughts.

19-Myungha is scared to sleep because he fears to wake up from a good dream. Yeowoon comforts him, while Myungha teases again and asks whether he's going to kiss. Yeowoon responds he'll wait until Myungha does it himself, like the first time (I guess, it's a bit different from drama?)

In the morning, Myungha learns that his grandma is still alive in this timeline and is in the hospital with injured leg. He rushes there and cries a little seeing her alive. He pleads her to come live with them but the grandma is like 'wtf this kid gone insane'.

His memories are cleared until 60% and he remembers time spent with his grandma.

19-Myungha watches videos on "his" Youtube channel and he sees what kind of life 29-Myungha lived and what kind of person he was. He finds they weren't actually that different and he could become him. He sees how liked he was and what kind of person younger Yeowoon was too.

They go to get groceries, and suddenly 19-Myungha is surrounded by kids that claim he's their homeroom teacher. Yeowoon saves him from awkwardness, it seems like they don't know Yeowoon and Myungha are dating. The kids say that their entire class will always love their teacher Myungha, and 19-Myungha understands why he chose this job.

Mission is cleared until 80%. He sees flashbacks from teaching kids, he still keeps in touch with the ones that left. 19-Myungha starts to smile.

But he still doesn't want to go home, he's also scared that original Myungha comes back and he will disappear. He doesn't want to leave.

Yeowoon tells him he'll be waiting for him even if he goes back to his time. He tells him to return and find 18yo Yeowoon, because he exists there and he will definitely like and choose Myungha.

Myungha is overwhelmed with feelings and goes to kiss Yeowoon. This time he's the inexperienced one.

The timeline written down by Myungha: "First meeting at 19, first fight at 20, living together at 23, passing teacher's exam, Yeowoon breaking the world record, Myungha becoming homeroom teacher, having 5 anniversary trip".

Last 20% are still missing. He's waiting for Yeowoon to come home, he returns with the cake and flowers. It's their 10th anniversary today, so Yeowoon insists he still has to celebrate, despite the situation. Myungha feels bad that he always forgets about anniversaries.

Yeowoon proposes to Myungha. He gives him his wedding plan and prepared funds.

Myungha laughs (while Yeowoon is annoyed :D) and gets positive buff, as he falls in love. [Mission is cleared until 99.9%]. He witnesses more happy flashbacks.

Because it's legally difficult, Yeowoon still wants to get married. Myungha tells him if he proposes again in 10 years, he'll accept. And teases him for being in such a rush to speedrun the relationship.

He remembers all memories from 10 years of their life and love together, he tells Yeowoon 'of course' and finally decides to return home and meet Yeowoon in his own timeline.

But Myungha is scared because there's still 0.1% to fail. He remembers the sunbae who pushed him before the world has changed. He wonders who that was.

He sees himself talking with sunbae, who asks him what is happy life to Myungha and if his life was a book, what would it be about.

"If your life was a book, what would you want it be about?" Someone is asking next to me. "...love. I wish it was about love." I wished that this thing, which was so common that I could hear about it everywhere but have never really felt it, could exist in my life too. The sunbae smiled quietly. "I just decided on a title".

Sunbae tells Myungha that humans are made of stars and apologizes that he was so late. He asks him to live the way he wants to.

He pushes him again. Message [The world has been changed] appears.

29yo Myungha wakes up next to Yeowoon and immediately goes to hug him. He finally feels like his soul and body are perfectly aligned, and he remembers how lonely he was when he was 19.

He tells Yeowoon they'll go see stars on their honeymoon trip. But first, they want to take a trip to Taiwan and the grandma is bitter they're not taking her with them because she's convinced they're gonna secretly get married there. But Myungha and Yeowoon want to get married in Korea.

[Mission: Make Tae Myungha happy is completed with 100%]

29-Myungha goes to meet the girl in his class who he saved on the rooftop. They both talk about how they don't want to die anymore and they should never give up. The girl also says Yeowoon suits him well, and Myungha promises to invite her to their wedding.

[END OF THE GAME.]

[LOADING]

19yo Myungha gets back to his conscience on the street, as someone asks him if he's okay. He is surprised to see Yeowoon, while Yeowoon is displeased that Myungha knows his name since they never met before.

Yeowoon walks away, but Myungha starts running after him.

[ENTERING THE LOVE SUPREMACY ZONE]

That's it 🥺 Of course, there are many amazing and touching moments in the story itself but I wrote down the main points. Aren't they precious?!

Tag list: @pickletrip @bunni-bun @illuminutiae @kaleidoskuls @delesaria-blog @maybe-boys-do-love

[moni-logues]

Reciprocity

Pairing: Yoongi x afab reader (Kintsugi couple) feat. A Fine Line Couple

Genre: established relationship

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: A couples' holiday with Suri and Namjoon highlights a particular problem between you and Yoongi.

Content: one reference to self-harm (cutting) but discussion of scars, oral sex (f. receiving), discussions of sex life stuff?, i guess some poor communication, overheard sex

A/N: yes, it's me once again with my favourite characters no apologies. i have been thinking about this since maybe even before i finished the series??? and i'm glad to have it finally out of my head. this is unedited and unbeta'd, written by me in the course of this one single day and well, here we are. This is set in the summer, somewhere a few months after the ending of the series.

* * *

“It’ll be fun!” 

Yoongi just nodded and continued carefully folding clothes and packing them in a bag.  

“You don’t want to come,” you continued, heart sinking a little. 

“Of course I do.” 

“Tell your face.” 

He smiled then but didn’t want you to see it, turned around to fetch underwear from a drawer. When he turned back, his face was schooled into something a little more neutral, polite. 

“I’m not saying it’s my first choice of holiday,” he explained, “but I want to go.” 

“Good, because you’re coming whether you like it or not!” 

You hopped off the bed, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then moved into the kitchen to prepare snacks for the road. At the advice of your therapist, you were taking Yoongi at his word: if he said he wanted to come, you would believe him and it was not your responsibility if he was lying. Even though it felt like it was.  

A week in the sun had been your initial suggestion. Somewhere where the heat wasn’t a curse, but a blessing. Clear blue skies and cool water. Peace. Unbridled joy where the real world couldn’t touch you. Even you weren’t entirely sure when it turned into a couples’ holiday, but it was an idea that neither Suri nor Yoongi would ever come up with, and you weren’t sure about Namjoon so it must have been yours. Sounded like the sort of thing you would say. Yoongi had said yes and let you do the research, find somewhere not too far away, easy to get to but far enough to feel new, to feel fresh.  

He had been fairly tight-lipped about it since then. Got a little quiet when you brought it up, when you showed him tourism websites with activities laid out. He insisted he wanted to come but never quite managed to muster up the level of enthusiasm you’d hoped for. In a way, that was just Yoongi being Yoongi, but there was anxiety in you, too, and it was making you sensitive. You could see everyone hating the idea, hating the trip, having the worst time. The awkward silences, arguments about what to do or who should clean what. Namjoon had joked that he would have to force Suri to come and he had said it with a laugh but you knew it was true.  

You turned your head and looked out of the car window at the increasingly green scenes around you and bit your lip. It felt incongruous somehow to not be happy and peaceful when the environment was so lush and bright with life. With ease. With a natural kind of solidity that had stood for hundreds or thousands of years and was still standing. You felt small and silly to be worried about this but it didn’t stop you worrying. Yoongi’s hand found yours and, like it always did, made a warmth start in your heart. You closed your eyes for a second of intense gratitude and then turned to him. 

“It’ll be fun,” he said.  

And it sounded like he meant it. 

* 

You and Yoongi arrived first, took the back bedroom overlooking the lake at Yoongi’s insistence because it was the better view. You had stopped on the way for groceries and you stocked the fridge, took out food to cook for dinner, since it would be about that time when Namjoon and Suri arrived.  

The cabin was wooden and new, so new it still smelt literally pine-fresh. The sun was just starting to dip, dripping golden light over everything, spreading a thousand tiny diamonds on the surface of the lake. It couldn’t have been more picturesque. It made you want to send a postcard for the first time since you were a child.  You settled for texting photos to Taehyung who told you to stop messaging him. Your ripples of anxiety were peaking, anticipating Namjoon and Suri’s arrival and what sort of dynamic it would bring, how it might disturb the peace of this place.  

Yoongi tore you from the window and asked you to start peeling vegetables. You were glad of the task. 

“-t I don’t want to be here, it’s just going to be weird.” 

Suri’s voice came from the hallway and you froze. So did Yoongi. 

“I don’t know why you keep saying that-” Namjoon - “it’s not as if we’ve never spent time with them. You like them.” 

Suri’s hum in response sounded unconvinced.  

You heard the kicking off of shoes, could follow their footsteps into the living room, around the corner from the kitchen where the two of you were hidden. Yoongi put down his knife and moved to go, intercept them before they said something you didn’t want to hear, but you put a hand out to stop him. Your stomach was sick but you had to hear it. Whatever it might be.  

“She’s jus-” 

And they rounded the corner into the kitchen, stopped in their tracks when they saw you. 

“Hey!” Namjoon was the first to recover. “We didn’t know you guys had arrived already! Where have you parked?” 

“’Round the back,” Yoongi answered. 

He was looking at Suri and you were looking anywhere but. Face burning with shame—that this was your idea, that it was all your fault, that you should’ve made you presence known earlier, that no one except you wanted to do this—you swallowed and smiled as brightly as you could. 

“You made it!”  

Your cheer sounded forced to you; maybe Namjoon and Suri wouldn’t hear it. Maybe they would believe you. 

“Public transport is a fucking nightmare,” Suri said with feeling.  

“I told you we could’ve rented a car,” Namjoon replied as if they had had this argument already. 

“I’m not driving in these hills! You should do it. Right?” 

You flinched when she turned to you and realised you had to answer. 

“Uh-” 

“Yoongi drove, right? Literally what are men good for if not chauffeuring you around?” 

It was a lifeline for her, really, but you took it readily, gladly, anything to drive over the awkwardness and shame you were feeling. 

“She has a point, Joon,” you said, grinning at him. “You could at least get a licence.”  

Namjoon rolled his eyes indulgently, let you and Suri rib him a little more, smoothing things over at his own expense. You were deeply grateful.  

“Come and help us do dinner,” you said, ferreting out more chopping boards from the cupboard, handing over knives and ingredients.  

It would be fine, you told yourself as you diligently and with great focus, chopped an onion. It would be fine. It would not be weird. It would be fine. It would be fine.  

* 

It was fine. Dinner was cooked and eaten and cleaned up after. Drinks were taken on to the back porch, overlooking the lake, the heat lingering long into the darkness. It was not dissimilar to the other dinners you had had as a foursome. As long as you could forget what Suri might have been about to say, you were sure you could have a good time.  

* 

You woke the next morning, sun streaming sharply through a gap in the curtains. You rolled over, tucked yourself into Yoongi’s side even though you were already hot and sticky. You were willing yourself to fall back to sleep, even if just for a few minutes, and then you were sitting, eyes wide, ears trained.  

There was no mistaking the sound of other people having sex. You grimaced, settled back down in bed and pulled the covers over your head. 

“What?” Yoongi mumbled, not so much a word as a sound. 

“Can’t you hear them?” you asked in a stage whisper. 

Another grunt from Yoongi. Then you felt his body tense, followed by a sigh and a sleepy chuckle. 

“You’re the one who wanted to come on holiday with another couple.” 

You whined, prodded him sharply in the chest. 

“Not because I was anticipating this! Do they have to be so loud?” 

“This place is not exactly well sound-proofed.” 

“I so don’t want to hear this.” 

“Go back to sleep,” Yoongi said and he sounded like he was already halfway there himself.  

“I don’t know how you can sleep now that you can hear that.” 

Merely a hum in response. 

You lay for a few minutes, desperately trying not to hear the only noise in the house, and then you gave up. Threw back the covers and went into the bathroom to shower. The rush of the shower might not exactly cover it but it would give you something to do.  

* 

“Hey,” Yoongi greeted the other couple when they came out to join the two of you on the back porch, where you were sitting with coffee and fruit. “Just a quick request: could you please have louder sex? I’ve been getting a little too much sleep recently.” 

You and Suri both froze and you saw the blood swarm in her cheeks, red and hot. Namjoon just laughed.  

“I’ll see what we can do.” 

Suri swatted him harshly on the arm and he barely noticed, slung said arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, kissed her on the top of her head. If he felt embarrassed or awkward about it, it wasn’t showing. What was it like to be so self-assured, confident, relaxed about everything? Even with Suri’s face still pink, her mouth pulled into a scowl, furiously glowering at her boyfriend, he looked easy, his smile gentle and eyes bright. You envied him. You still felt silly and embarrassed about the previous evening, and embarrassed about hearing them have sex; he didn’t seem embarrassed at all to be heard.  

* 

Yoongi had insisted on washing up after breakfast. Didn’t let anyone else so much as carry a bowl back to the kitchen. He was taking his time on it, deliberately, carefully, putting off what he knew could not be avoided.  

He was rarely unaware of his own body. Vigilant at all times about its exposure. He had suffered years of summers under long sleeves and trousers, would suffer higher temperatures, more humidity if he had to. He regretted everything he had done to himself, but not in a way that prevented him doing it again. No amount of shame or embarrassment would stop him, it seemed. Not that it happened much these days, but the possibility was always there.  

Even when he was with you, he couldn’t let go. Even though you were sweet and kind and loving. Even though he knew there was a part of you that understood. Even though he could kiss your thighs where you had cut them and love you so much that it hurt, love your skin, love your scars (hate that you had them). Even though you kissed him, all over, generous and unsparing, even though you said you loved him, all the parts, every bit of him. He knew what he was and he found that breaking the habit of hiding himself was harder than the hiding had been in the first place. 

With his task finished, and all the others he had made up for himself (cleaning counters, fluffing cushions, clearing the dryer of lint even though they hadn’t used it), he had come to the point he could no longer avoid. He moved slowly up the stairs, towards the bedroom you and he were sharing; he stopped halfway up. He could see you through the door, left ajar.  

Your bikini was floral, cutesy, every bit you. The smile formed on his mouth before he had registered the sight. Then it was wiped away because he saw your face: your worried eyebrows, lip caught between your teeth. Your fingers ran over the scars on your thighs; your face turned towards the window, from which point Yoongi knew you could see Namjoon and Suri, already out, lounging. He could see cogs turning in your head, first this way then that.  

And then it wasn’t just the scars. You fussed with the top, fussed with the bottom, turned in the mirror to check yourself from the side, twisted your head around to catch yourself from the back. You ran a hand over your face. You picked up a slip of fabric—some kind of cover-up, a dress?—and held it up against yourself. 

He knew he shouldn’t be spying like this. He wanted to leap the remaining stairs and take you into bed where he would show you exactly what he thought of your body: your perfect, desirable, soft, body that he loved and loved to love. He wanted, briefly, to throw Suri in the lake and hope there were eels because he knew you were still thinking about it: last night.  

He knew that it didn’t matter much what he did because it wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t as easy as being told you were fine. He knew because you told him all the time but he still felt like there was something wrong with him.  

He carried on up the stairs and knocked on the door as he entered. Your face was immediately bright, free from clouds, as clear as the sky outside.  

“Coming outside?” you asked as he moved in closer, couldn’t stop himself kissing you just once, putting all his love into it, however brief, however small. 

“Yeah, just coming. You go ahead.” 

You nodded and skipped out and there was a deep tug in his chest. There was a pit of snakes in his stomach but, fuck it, he’d been bitten before. Everyone out there beside the lake knew him, knew what he was if not in full, lurid detail. He took a deep breath and fished around in the bottom of his bag for the pair of swimming shorts he had bought in a moment of madness and packed because he wanted to make the effort for you. He hadn’t expected to wear them—they were still fully tagged and pristine, ready for refunding—but here he was.  

He hadn’t anticipated the difficulty. He sat for ten minutes at the dining table in the kitchen, willing himself to get up and go outside. His legs weren’t all that bad, not the lower half. No one would care. You’d seen them before anyway. It wasn’t a big deal. He was telling himself all the right things but he couldn’t make himself move because he was thinking about all the people who’d seen him in his grossest state. Thought of the things some of them had said. Thought about their reactions. Thought about yours. Tried to focus on that. Reminded himself that it was you out there and his best friend. Suri was still a question mark but he also thought that she could go fuck herself if she had a problem with it because he was still prepared to fight her for potentially upsetting you. 

“I don’t know. I’ll go and see where he is.” 

Your voice floated over to him and that was it, the alarm call, the deadline reached. He stood from the chair and made himself move with he didn’t know what power.  

“Hey!” you cried, arms outstretched to welcome him as he approached the group. “I was just coming to look for you—thought you might have got lost.” 

He smiled, let you kiss him on the cheek, direct him into a sun lounger, sit down with him on it, not quite in his lap but almost.  

Suri raised a hand in way of a greeting; she was flat on her back, sunglasses on, straps of her bikini tucked away, her tiny body sizzling in the sun. Namjoon sat next to her, under the shade of a parasol, dug out of the cabin’s garage, book in hand. He nodded at Yoongi and kept reading. 

“I’m going to go in the lake,” you said, one hand resting on his calf. “Do you want to come?” 

He was putting all his energy into not looking where you were touching him, not noticing, pretending that this wasn’t the first time for he couldn’t remember how many years that he’d not been fully covered in front of people. He wasn’t sure what his face said, if his mouth said anything at all, but you were standing and holding out your hands for him so he must have said yes, let you lead him to the edge of the water and then jump in.  

The water was colder than he’d expected. He gasped and swallowed a lungful, came up spluttering. He wiped the water from his face and pushed his hair back. He blinked the water from his eyes and each frame brought you closer, until your arms were around his neck and your lips on his.  

“I love you, you know that?” 

He nodded. 

“I love you, too.” 

“I know.” 

Did you? Did you really know the full depth and breadth of it? The way he loved you was desperate and whole. He had loved desperately before, loved anxiously, a long time ago when he still thought it was possible he could be loved. There were times when it terrified him. You terrified him because you loved him and it was impossible. Panic seized him and he wanted to run, run anywhere, get as far away as possible until you and your enormous heart were nowhere to be seen. Then you would call him or you would touch him and the panic disappeared, a low-grade anxiety in its place.  

He hadn’t realised he had given up on it. Before you let him kiss you, before you kissed him back and said things he never believed he would hear, he had retired the idea of being loved. It wasn’t for everyone and it wasn’t for him. He took what he could get and accepted that his lot in life was nothing more. But he met you and it hit him square in the face: that he’d stopped expecting joy. That he was fine because he never expected what he deeply and desperately wanted: to be loved. 

And that’s why you were terrifying. Because he was getting used to you. Getting used to being wanted. Getting used to the idea that he could be wanted. Sometimes he thought he was expecting it. Expecting you to let him in your arms, in your life. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t owed anything, didn’t deserve anything. It was the other way around: he was in debt for everything he had been given by you, for being given you at all. 

* 

They say if you can’t beat them, join them. It was an expression Yoongi was apparently taking very seriously, as he slid his tongue down your torso, fingers already slipping through your lips, sinking deep into your soft, wet hole.  

You were less keen to join Namjoon and Suri in being overheard so you pressed a pillow to your face and moaned into it, still louder than you’d wanted to be. You bit down hard on your lip as your back arched from the bed. Every time, it was an aria performed like a concerto, Yoongi doing the work of a full orchestra suite at once. It was lethal and moving the ease with which he played you and it was somehow never the same twice. Never had anyone spent as much time with his face between your legs and it showed: he had learnt, with apparent ease, seemingly everything about what got you off: had learnt how to do it in a rush, how to take his time, how to make you squirt (a surprise more to you than him), how to edge you until you wanted to die, how to make you come and somehow keep coming. He had, on one unfortunately memorable occasion, given you a charley horse and a third orgasm simultaneously.  

You were approaching your second now, with sweat seeping into the bedsheets, and Yoongi’s tongue laving at your clit, his fingers rocking inside you. It was suffocating with the pillow smothering you, your hot breath making it damp, your breathing thick and swampy so it made you light-headed. You couldn’t have kept any quieter even if you’d be able to try; all your attention and energy fell on the mouth at the apex of your legs and the fingers inside you. An experience so in-body, it almost pushed you all the way out again, like your consciousness was hovering outside your skin, alert and alive, an electrical wire in a puddle of water.  

You came hard and gasped for breath when you pulled the pillow from your face. Yoongi kissed his way back up to you, sticky marks all over your sweat-wet skin. He was damp, too, tiny curls of hair stuck to his forehead, the T-shirt he slept in stuck to his back. You peeled it back, ran your hands over him, were reaching for the waistband of his boxers when he pulled away.  

“I’ll wash up and then make breakfast, sound good?” he asked, climbing out of bed and reaching for trousers. 

The words died in your mouth. You could see that he was hard, see the discomfort in the way he adjusted himself as he dressed; you wished you could see into his brain. It wasn’t the first time, not even the second or third and you didn’t want to have the same conversation again, with another couple in the house, with company. Knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere if you did. Knew he would not fuck you nor would he give you a real reason why not. You rolled onto your side, away from the door and pulled the covers around you, despite the heat, despite the sweat. You lay and you stewed and you wondered just what exactly you were doing wrong. 

* 

You tried to forget about it and it had been easy until you glanced over to see Namjoon swat Suri’s backside with his book, saw her retaliate by squirting water on him from her bottle, saw him pull her down in a tumble that was entirely playful until she kissed him. You turned away because you’d already heard enough, you didn’t need to see their foreplay.  

* 

“Did you guys buy ice-cream?” Suri asked later that evening. 

“No,” you answered. “Do you want some?” 

Suri nodded. 

“Yeah, there’s a shop down the road; I’ll go and get some. Anyone else want any?” 

“I’ll come, too!” 

Suri looked surprised, her mouth open (to put you off), then she shut it and shrugged. 

“Ok.” 

It was quiet, initially, just the soft rush of wind in the tops of the trees and the slight crunch of the gravel track under your feet. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

The rhythm of Suri’s feet faltered and then started smoothly again. Her answer was slow to arrive. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Embarrassment was worming through you, on its way to stifle you, to choke you so the words wouldn’t come out. 

“You and Namjoon have good sex, right?” 

Suri didn’t just falter but stopped completely. She looked at you guardedly, suspicious. You could feel her attempting to put distance between you, even as her feet kept still. 

“Is that... ar-, we’re trying to be quiet,” she answered eventually. 

You laughed not because it was funny but because you were nervous. 

“No, it’s not about that. It's... I mean, you do, right?” 

“Yes.” 

You were stuttering over your next question, not having planned this conversation, not really knowing what you wanted out of it. 

“Don’t you and Yoongi?” Suri asked, beating you to it. 

“We do. Kind of. Yes, but also...” 

Your face was flaming, hot pricks of sweat beading in your scalp at the embarrassment of this, at having to ask someone about your sex life—someone that wasn’t Taehyung anyway—someone who definitely did not want to be having this conversation either. 

“The thing is,” you persevered, “he goes down on me, like a lot. Or not a lot but sometimes, well, often, he...”  

Your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides. 

“He goes down on me and then we don’t have sex and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong or why he doesn’t want to fuck me.” 

You let it out in a rush, looking somewhere over Suri’s left shoulder because you couldn’t bear to look at her directly, to see her face reacting. She was quiet for a moment or two and you stewed, boiling in your self-consciousness, steaming with shame.  

“Have you asked him?” 

“Yes, of course! He just says he doesn’t want to or ‘it’s ok’ or that I don’t have to reciprocate or that he’s fine. But I'm not fine! I’m clearly shit at sex! And blowjobs because he doesn’t want those either!” 

And it was the embarrassment, mostly, but you felt tears burn in your eyes, felt your bottom lip wobble and as much as you did not want to have this conversation, you certainly didn’t want to cry during it. 

“Does Namjoon ever...” and you couldn’t finish the question because you knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it. 

“Nah, if he’s even the slightest bit turned on, he’s doing something about it. Well, I'm doing something about it, you know what I mean.” 

You cursed softly, tried to kick at the gravel in your flipflops.  

“I just wish he would tell me what I’m doing wrong so I can fix it.” 

Your embarrassment, bright enough to have burnt away now, had left you sad, miserable in fact, that you couldn’t please your boyfriend and he was being too nice to tell you so. Sad because you couldn’t give him what you wanted to, what he gave you. Miserable that you were failing where you wanted to succeed. 

“Do you ask him directly at the time?” 

“Huh?” 

“I mean, look, I’m the last person who should be giving anyone relationship advice of any kind, ok? I really don’t know how to do anything but are you asking him why he doesn’t want to have sex right now, or have you talked about it at a completely unsexy time? Because Namjoon is barely sapient when his dick is hard; his brain is entirely in his crotch.  

“Literally the only thing I have learnt over the last year is that, as horrible as it is, you have to talk about stuff, especially when you don’t want to talk about it. So maybe just talk to him again but- oh, I don’t know! I’m not good at this. But if he’s not given you a proper answer, make him give you one. You should at least know what the problem is, if there even is one, right?” 

You thought about it. Thought about how quickly you let the subject drop, let Yoongi brush you off because you didn’t really want to have the conversation at all, didn’t want to know the answer—or rather you didn’t want to hear Yoongi say it.  

You nodded, thanked her quietly for her help and you walked the rest of the way to the shop in silence. You picked an ice-cream at random and a random one for Yoongi, too, then you walked back. Suri tried to make conversation with you and you were grateful for it, for her. You didn’t know if she liked you, found her impossible to read, and often got the impression that she’d rather be anywhere else, but she was making an effort and it meant something to you. 

* 

“Can I ask you something?” you started timidly as you settled in bed that night. 

“Yeah.” 

You were quiet for a moment and Yoongi frowned, trying to work out what had upset you. You had been quieter than usual all evening and he wondered if Suri had said something to you; you had come back from the shop with two melona ice-creams, which you hated.  

“Am I bad in bed?”  

He blanched. Didn’t really understand the question because you weren't. Not in the slightest. The sex he had with you was as close to perfect as sex could be. He sometimes felt deranged in how much he wanted you, felt dirty for it even, like it somehow besmirched your honour for him to think about you when he touched himself. Like he would contaminate you with his need to have you. It often took all he had in him not to fuck you. 

“What do you mean?” 

Your mouth was pouty and your eyebrows drawn close. You didn’t look angry for which he was grateful, but you were sad and frustrated for which he was not. 

“You go down on me all the time and then we don’t have sex after! You don’t let me reciprocate! I can’t do it better if you don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong in the first place!” 

It was like static was fuzzing up his brain. He knew the words but couldn’t understand them coming out of your mouth. He had thought he was doing the right thing. Giving not taking. Or taking only sometimes, but keeping the balance firmly tipped towards you. You always offered because of course you did: you were wonderful and kind and, for reasons he could rarely fathom, you cared about him.  

“Yoongi!” 

In a tone he almost never heard, genuinely annoyed, if also pleading and anxious.  

He blinked, tried to find an answer. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Of course you do! It happened this morning! It happens at least half the time! I don’t understand why you don’t want it.” 

And his heart was suddenly hammering because he could see that he had got it wrong but he wasn’t quite sure how. Colour drained from his face because you were upset, really, genuinely upset and it was his fault and if he could have squashed himself like a bug under his own shoe, he would have.  

He tried to see what he had not seen, what he had missed, what maybe he had ignored. Could only see instead the times before, with other partners, when he’d try to initiate and be rebuffed, when he never asked for anything because he knew he wouldn’t get it anyway and, besides, it was ugly to ask, to want, to demand for something someone else didn’t want to give. He had spent so much time and effort learning his partners’ bodies, trying to make up for everything he lacked. He knew he was good at it. Knew it, was sure of it. Wasn’t he? Was it not enough? Was he still missing something? 

“I do,” he said, voice hushed as though it hurt to say. “I do want it.” 

“Then why do you always brush me off?” 

He felt stripped like old paint. Had to look at you, though the embarrassment was excruciating. 

“I didn’t think you really wanted it.” 

And it sounded stupid when he said it out loud, really stupid, but it was the truth. 

“What?!” 

You really needed to hear him say it again. That he didn’t think you wanted it, even though you had explicitly asked. Even though you had sometimes tried, feebly, to insist.  

“I...” 

But he didn’t say it again, looked as though he couldn’t. Looked as desperate as you felt.  

“Why do you think I would ask, I would offer, if I didn’t want to actually do it?” 

“Because you give. You’re... You’re nice to me.” 

“Oh, fuck.” 

And you took a deep breath, tried to blink away the tears, sent them rolling down your cheeks instead.  

“Yoongi, what the fuck?” 

You saw him move, inch away just slightly, and you remembered who you were dealing with. Because he was Yoongi, your Yoongi, and he was warm and soft and sweet and funny and smart and you loved him so much that you forgot sometimes he still hated himself. Saw his denial now not of you but of his own desires. Remembered how long he had spent silently loving you without asking you to so much as hear a confession. Remembered how close you had both come to absolutely nothing at all, his disbelief overpowering his belief and his heart and his hope.  

You could see it from his side. See what he was trying to do, even if it was madness. Even if it was wrong. You could feel him retreat even now, tucking himself back inside his tortoise shell.  

“I’m so-” 

You didn’t let him finish, would not let him apologise. You kissed him, tasted the salt of your own tears between you, leant into him, let your arms wrap around him and pressed your lips to his, to his cheek, to his hairline, to his jaw. 

“Yoongi, I love you.” 

“I know,” he replied, but you weren’t sure if he really did. 

“I’m glad you think I'm such a nice person and everything, but I promise, I’m not offering out of the goodness of my heart. I’m asking because I actually want to. Like, really want to. Like, really enjoy myself and want you to enjoy yourself and want us to both enjoy ourselves together, y’know?” 

He nodded, couldn’t quite hold your gaze.  

“I’m serious. You need to know that I want to fuck you, ok?” 

And you laughed, though you were trying not to, even if it did feel a little ridiculous, having to convince your boyfriend that you wanted to have sex. 

He nodded again. 

“You promise I’m not a bad lay?” 

And you watched his face flick through shock and outrage and a kind of disbelief that become laughter.  

“You are not a bad lay, I promise.” 

“And what about blowjobs?”  

“Also good.”  

“You promise?” 

And you sat yourself in his lap, legs straddling his hips, sinking yourself low, pressing against him. 

“I promise.” 

“What if I say you have to prove it?” 

His head cocked to the side, playful, squinting at you, and you didn’t think that it was over, that he was suddenly convinced now, but with the burden of Being Terrible at Sex lifted off you, you felt not only lighter, but the deep, heavy, familiar drag of desire raise its head. 

“Prove it?” 

You shifted your hips again, deniably but definitely, and put your lips to his ear. 

“Prove that you like it when I suck your cock.” 

His hands gripped you tightly; you felt the bob in his throat when he swallowed as you pressed kisses down his neck and a stirring in his boxers that you sank even lower to press yourself against. 

“I’ll prove it if you prove that you like it when I fuck you.” 

“Deal.” 

* 

You were late up that next morning and Namjoon greeted you both from the back porch. 

“Hey, a little request: could you maybe be louder when you fuck? Suri and I are actually sleeping a little too well.” 

[alexanderwales]

The soda jar predated me, so I gave it a wide berth, and didn't bring it up often. It was big and plastic, and had once contained cheese puffs, so more of a barrel than a jar. It said "SODA" in big block letters that had been shaded in. I didn't ask about it. Besides, I had switched over to only drinking water years ago, with a few rare exceptions, and game night wasn't one of them, at least not at first.

Whenever someone wanted a soda, they would grab it from the fridge, and then they would put money into the soda jar. There was a little sign below the big "SODA" on it, and I tried not to look too interested, because it would be weird to go to a friend's house and say "hey, what the hell is this".

But by the fourth night I was feeling like I belonged there, so I read the fine print. It was a list of sodas and how much each of them cost.

"You want a soda?" asked Roger.

"Uh," I said. "No, I have water."

"You want soda, just grab it from the fridge, prices are on the jar," he said.

I had a sense that this was a Social Encounter, and that I was on the verge of failing it, but I had to know, so I asked.

"Why?"

Roger turned to look at me, then he frown at the jar. "Just ... you know. Keep things fair?"

I nodded a bit. "But I mean ..."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"No, it's just," I said. "Like, how much does a soda cost?"

"It's on the jar," said Roger, pointing at the jar.

"Right," I said. "But we're all adults, we all have jobs, the cost is like ... a rounding error, right?"

Roger shrugged. "It's about being fair."

"Right, right," I said. "It's just ... if someone wants a soda, then they go to the minifridge, and then they have to have money on them, and have to look at the price, and then pay that price into the soda jar, which seems like ..." I held up a hand. "I mean, it's how you do things, I guess."

"Right," said Roger with a frown. "I mean, how would you do it?"

"I would just ... have people bring in soda?" I said. "I would go to Costco and get a big thing of it, and then just ... it's like, how much could it possibly be?"

"It adds up," said Roger.

"Right, but it also adds down, doesn't it," I said.

"What the hell does that mean?" asked Roger. He was frowning at me, and it was hard to tell whether this was good-natured curious frowning or if I was annoying him.

"There's like ... a lot of overhead, a lot of cognitive, social, emotional sort of friction, right?" I asked. "Having things for people to drink is casual hospitality, and if you're doing it this way, then you have to update the pricing sheet, and you have to have everyone be thinking about things, and ... I just think in the scheme of things it's just ... I don't mean to offend you by way of criticizing this system."

"People should pay their fair share," said Roger, like he was stuck in a loop, or like he was an NPC repeating his dialogue.

"I am suggesting a communist regime wherein we do not worry too much about that and, because the costs are nominal compared to wages, we do not track or worry about prices," I said. "I mean, I don't want to assume that other people are like ... comfortably wealthy, but if anyone is worried about a few dollars for soda, then yeah, I'll just pay their way and we don't need to talk about it or acknowledge it."

"You're offering to pay for the whole group?" asked Roger.

I considered that. "I'm saying that I would bring in a big cube of it and then someone else could bring in a big cube next time."

"Some kind of rotating schedule?" asked Roger. "Like, a roster of whose turn it is?"

"No," I said. "No, the whole point is ... I mean the point is that we shouldn't need a system, we're adults, soda is, in addition to being super bad for you, very cheap, and we shouldn't care about having any kind of system, we should just have faith that it'll work itself out."

"Okay," said Roger. "But like ... what if it doesn't? I buy soda, people drink all the soda, then no one gets more, so I get more, and people drink it, and then there's no soda again."

"I don't know," I said. "We could talk about it like adults?"

"Or we could just have a sign," said Roger.

And then our break was over, and I hated that I let him get the last word, but I also sort of knew that I wasn't going ever quite be comfortable in that group. Maybe Roger had been burned before, maybe he had been burned a lot, but the soda jar suffused the feeling of the whole group, and I could tell that I was never going to get them out of the soda jar mindset.

[crazyvik97rpg]

Of course their friends didn't suspect a thing, not even Alan could imagine how miserable William felt. Not only today - lately, in general. It took such a toll on him and yet he kept on his mask, acted all strong and protective towards Sebastian. An uncomfortable conversation awaited them - Alan kind of mentioned to Ronald and Eric later on that their meet up had something to do with Sebastian's health and that William seemed really stressed and exhausted about it. So...they somewhat had an idea but really, they had no clue.

Sebastian of course recieved William's text - oh, despite his condition right now it brought a smile to his face right away. Even the nurse taking his blood pressure noticed and as extroverted as Sebastian was, he was chatting with the nurses frequently of course. "Oh, my boyfriend texted. He's the sweetest...he has to work today but he'll come visit in the evening. He's a teacher", he smiled and while he said that, he texted him right back.

'Good morning, dove! <3<3<3 I'm feeling fine...all sore and surgery wound hurts but the worst is that I still can't eat solid food. I'll be fine though. Miss you too, so much!! <3 Have a great day at school <3'

Honestly, the amount of hearts they used during texting should be a crime - but they were simply just as cheesy as in real life, heh. This brightened Sebastian's morning for sure and he just couldn't wait - he wished William was back with him already. Until then, he had to lie in bed some more, wait for the pain meds to kick in and have some more tests done by the nurses. Visiting hours didn't start until around 2pm, so he couldn't expect any visitors until then either. Only one more interesting thing happened before noon - he got a new neighbour in the next bed. An elderly man who apparently had surgery later in the day. He came with his wife to get ready here, left his bag and got changed into the hospital gowns. Huh...Sebastian had been the same just yesterday. At least something was happening and he could chat with them a bit too, so he wasn't bored.

For Alan, Ronald and Eric, today was much as every day - it was the new school year, so there was lots of planning and new stuff to do with the students. The kids got used to their routine again, diligently worked on their tasks and practiced their instruments. Weather was nice today too, which added to their motivation, and yet Alan couldn't fully relax, be happy about it. He kept thinking about William the whole time. He was worried. The principal didn't say anything about Sebastian's sick leave yet and he wondered whether a whole new substitute teacher would come to replace him. He wondered how serious Sebastian's condition might be. By the time all of them had lunch together, Eric too had to silently agree with his husband that William really didn't look well today.

By 3pm, school was pretty much over for everyone. Eric and Alan were in the faculty room, getting ready to go and Ronald also joined them just a few minutes later. They had agreed to meet up at William's place.

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[raindropren]

I do wonder if Scott knows that by trying to "not enable" pearl's "bad behavior" he is enabling actual bad behavior.

Saying that Pearl(and Impulse i think when he joins up with the group) should go try to make amends with Gem and Joel is like saying to the victim of a bully that they should just talk it out. A bully doesn't need a reason to hate a person, they just do it.

Gem doesn't have a reason to hate Pearl(and Impulse, but scott wasn't talking to him at the time). There might be some disagreement or misunderstanding, but it's not like Gem's just going "I don't like them" she's going "I want everyone to hate them, I want them dead, I want you! to be against them, Kill them, Hurt them" and I very much think Scott is doing the thing where you have Zero information but you like one of them more then the other so that one must be right!

Misinformation and not talking to eachother about important matters, whether relationship with other teams or murder related, will be the downfall of this team imo.

Pearl and Impulse haven't down "Nothing" but they sure haven't down "Something" and It seems like Cleo,,, understands that(from what I know,,, i am still only 4 minutes into the video....)

Gem and Joel want Scott's teammates dead, or more so, Gem, who seems to be the one doing most of the talking bad about the two. Instead of asking Pearl and Impulse What they did, He assumed that they had done something to warrant Gem's dislike already(,,,in,,, episode 2 at the earliest,,,) However, even with this assumption, Gem and Joel still hate His Teammates, and thus, should probably not be on Scott's nice list. The fact that they aren't, kinda says alot about his actual faith in the teammates he chose...

Also Gem is manipulating others to be against Pearl and Impulse at this point, right? I don't think it's entirely Scott's fault that he views the relationship between the three this way, Gem is making it that way. But at the same time, is it? He's not like Bdubs or Etho, who she just lied to and they believed without much word on their part. He's talking about Pearl and Impulses "Bad behavior" with her. He's contributing to Gem's hate.

[outrunningthedark]

So all the journos who cover 911, because they like buddie, are bad? This fanfom is so weird about journalists. You can not like someone's writing or interview style, etc. But either people treat them like Gods or act like you and say they're all terrible.

Sorry that your day is going so poorly you need to try and fight with someone. <3 Nobody would care about certain journalists shipping Buddie (again, allegedly, because for all we know they do it for the clicks) if they didn't form enter articles and interviews around the ship when it's not relevant. Lou was asked how he'd feel about Buddie going canon. In an interview about BuckTommy's relationship ending. Oliver was just asked whether "we" should believe Ryan when he says Eddie was serious about labeling himself as straight. They keep fucking nagging at Ryan about fans headcanoning Eddie as queer, Ryan says "I respect your interpretation, but that's not my intention", Ryan is either called a liar or a homophobe depending on one's level of optimism. (Buddie canon = "Lying to misdirect" / Bitter shipper = "Homophobe!") Journalists have asked Gavin and Corinne how they feel about Buddie. I feel like you came into my inbox thinking you had the whole story when you've probably only heard the pro-Buddie side. Which, of course, will only show you the things that don't seem so bad!

[rottiens]

✮ tags. established relationship, thighs fucking, fem!reader, praising (good girl, attagirl).

✮ notes. I mean had to,,, Isagi with a thighs kink is asking me to write this (please expect more on this ksjd), thanks for reading! divider creds: adornedwithlight.

✮ wc. 3.0k

This is Isagi's first official relationship, and sometimes that makes him feel unsure about how he should act or whether he should choose his words more carefully now that you've gone from being best friends to being a couple. You're his girlfriend, and while he used to fantasize about the idea many times, experiencing it in reality —holding your hand, receiving your sweet kisses— till brings a knot in his stomach. Every time he calls you “his girl” or “his girlfriend,” the weight of the word reminds him that this time it's real and not a dream like the ones he had so many times.

However, despite the trust that clearly exists between you, there are certain aspects of himself that cause him discomfort that he can't ignore... a tension in his stomach that comes with a mixture of nerves and guilt. That feeling squeezes him inside every time he thinks of confessing to you, for example, how much he is fascinated by your thighs and the things he has come to imagine when he sees them.

And you, without realizing it, don't make things easy either with your clothing choices: those short skirts that leave little to the imagination, tight dresses, or when you decide to cover your legs with black stockings or knee-high socks. Sometimes, it seems like you do it on purpose, given how often Isagi has gotten a glimpse of your panties peeking out from between the folds of your skirt every time you bend over.

As Isagi relives this feeling of embarrassment again, you are kneeling on the floor, curiously exploring the contents of an antique box, filled with Isagi's memories. Dusty framed photos, trophies and medals won throughout his career, little relics that speak of his accomplishments and passion that fill you with pride and curiosity as you continue your exploration. Isagi is lying on the bed, leaning on several pillows and holding his phone in his hand, but unable to resist glancing at you from time to time. He watches every time you pull out an object, admire it and take a picture of it, and although he finds you adorable, he keeps his comments to himself, quietly enjoying the scene.

Then, you pull out an old shirt from one of his previous teams, and hold it in front of him with a mischievous smile. His gaze softens, the memories stirring some nostalgia in him.

“Can I try it on?” you ask, cocking your face to one side with an innocent air.

Without much thought, Isagi nods and sets his phone down on the side of the mattress, this time focused entirely on you. At times like this, he's thankful he's wearing baggy shorts, otherwise you'd instantly notice the effect you're having on him. The cotton hirt, a somewhat faded navy blue, reaches just above your thighs, threatening to reveal more than it should if you decide to raise your arms or move nonchalantly around his room. The possibility of that happening, that the tiny skirt rises a little higher than it should, makes his breathing quicken a little, knowing that this time, the glimpse of your panties could last much longer than a fleeting moment.

Isagi clears his throat, trying to hide the blush that colors his face, but the attempt only makes his shyness even more apparent. With hurried movements, he grabs a pillow and places it over his crotch, hoping you won't notice his erection.

“I love the way it looks on you... much better than it does on me,” he lets out a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood, though the slight tremor in his voice gives it away. “You can keep it, if you want.” He smiles at you, trying to keep his composure, while his eyes can't help but roam over the way the fabric molds to your body.

You get up from the floor and, after smoothing the shirt down a little, you walk over to the bed. You slide down on all fours until you're settled between his legs, with the pillow still sandwiched between you like a fragile barrier. Your arms entwine around his neck, and at that moment he inhales deeply: now you smell of him, of the memories impregnated in that old shirt that hadn't seen the light for years, and you also smell of you, of that sweet, floral perfume that every time you wear it awakens in him a mixture of intense feelings.

“Thank you. Of course I wanna keep it,” you murmur before peppering his face with a shower of fleeting kisses, each one making it even harder for him to ignore the closeness. The softness of your lips, the touch of your fingers sliding to the nape of his neck, cause him to let out a soft moan. You pause for a moment, pulling away to look at him intently, watching the expression on his face. 

“You look... so tense all of a sudden. Is everything okay?” you ask, your eyes searching for some sign of what's going through his mind. You watch his cheeks, now as flushed as you had noticed from before, when you were not yet so close. 

For a moment, Isagi finds himself at a loss as to what to do with his own hands. Finally he decides to place them on your lower back, leaving them there, still. Then, he spreads his thighs a little further apart to give you space and allow you to settle better between them. Sitting back on your heels, your gaze, laden with sweet, lingering concern, seems to pierce him, and that unsettles him. His blue eyes soften as he swallows saliva, wetting his dry throat before trying to say something. It was now or never.

You have been friends forever. You had known him in childhood, and what started as sporadic conversations soon turned into long, deep talks in which he felt increasingly exposed and understood. When he was away from home, just a phone call from you was enough to comfort him, to remind him that all the effort and sacrifice in his career would one day pay off.

He trusted you absolutely, in every word of support and in the certainty that, come what may, there was nothing that could scare you away. You knew his most hidden and secret fears, even some of his desires and aspirations that he had never shared with anyone else. If, deep down, you rejected that confession about his obsession with your thighs, that was okay; at least it wasn't as embarrassing as admitting how much he loved it when you praised him, right?

Isagi lets out a sigh, as if he had finally dropped a weight he was carrying. “It's nothing, it's just... you look so good in my shirt,” he murmurs, his voice laden with that mixture of nervousness and yearning he tries so hard to hide. At his confession, your shoulders drop visibly relaxed, though you hold your posture, waiting for him to continue. “I'm gonna say it, as weird as it sounds, but your thighs...” His words snap, and your eyes widen barely, as a hesitant smile threatens to form on your lips.

“I know,” you reply softly, and hearing you, Isagi feels his heart beat even harder. You have lightened the burden of his words by acknowledging something he had always been afraid to say aloud. “I've noticed, you're not exactly... discreet,” you add, and a soft, sparkling chuckle escapes from you, causing his muscles to tense with a current of excitement and nerves. Then, leaning in just barely close, you tell him in a low, expectant voice, “I don't think it's strange. But I want to hear, exactly, what you think.”

Those last words hang in the air between you, and he feels a current of honesty and vulnerability begin to work its way up his throat.

Isagi stands still for a long second, as if searching for the right words or perhaps thinking about what he's about to do. You wish you could read what's hidden behind those big blue eyes that always look at you so tenderly.

Slowly, his gaze descends to your thighs, and his fingers begin to gently caress them up and down. The skin under his fingers feels incredibly soft, the gentle rubbing of your after-shower lotion sliding under his palms. With his thumbs, he begins to trace small circles that seem to accompany the rhythm of his next words.

“I want to kiss them,” he confesses, a pause in his voice as his eyes lift to meet yours. Then he hesitates a moment longer. “I want to leave marks with my teeth on them. I wanna-” His voice grows more confident, his touch becomes a little firmer, and his hands move to the edge of his shirt, which barely covers your core.

“You can say it,” you encourage him, moistening your lips in anticipation.

“I want to fuck them,” he says, holding your gaze. For a moment, your gazes intertwine in silence, and without a word, you seek his fingers with yours, gently guiding them to slide deeper, higher, closer to the edge of your panties.

“You can do whatever you want with them,” you whisper sweetly, an invitation full of trust.

Then, without further hesitation, he leans into you, kissing you with a passion that hides neither fear nor shame. You let him melt in your mouth, his lips molding yours with a voracious calm, taking the lead in the kiss as he always does, guiding each movement with overwhelming confidence as two of his fingers massage your clit through your soaked panties.

The kiss is sloppy and a little messy, unhurried, but with the precise intensity that anticipates what is to come. His tongue brushes yours in an intimate dance, and the murmur of the fan, along with the everyday noises of his apartment, fade away, drowned out by your moans and his. Gently, he lays you down on the mattress, where the only sound is the rustling of the sheets as they become disheveled.

Isagi pauses for a moment observing the way the edge of your shirt along with your skirt rises above your thighs, exposing the pink lingerie you are wearing. The fabric is barely tangled at your navel, and with a slight smile, he leans down to kiss one of your calves.

“Cute,” he murmurs, his lips still pressed to your skin. You, biting your lip, try to hide a teasing smile. “Are you sure?” he asks you, his eyes searching for some shadow of doubt on your face.

You nod confirming to him that you don't feel like backing out, letting out an eager sigh that fills your lungs. He leans over to the bedside table, looking for something in one of the drawers. Finally, he pulls out a small bottle of oil and drops a generous amount into his hands, rubbing them together to warm it before he begins massaging your thighs. His thumbs press and glide close to your core, brushing against the line of your panties without actually touching you creating that aching anticipation.

“Feels good...” you murmur, letting your hips rise instinctively, seeking more of that delicious pressure.

“Yeah? I can tell. You're soaking your panties, baby.”

Before you can say anything, Isagi moves with an agility that takes you by surprise. In a single, fluid motion, his shirt drops to the floor, quickly followed by his shorts. The sight of his worked torso and him covered only by tight boxers takes your breath away, making any coherent thoughts instantly disappear. It's not the first time you've seen him like this, but it's the first time he's done it while on top of you. 

With a fresh portion of oil that he drops into his hand, he slides the liquid down his cock, droplets that he will later take care of wiping slip down to the sheets, and then he takes your thighs and squeezes them together, creating a perfect space to slide between them. 

A deep, pleasure-laden growl escapes his lips as he leans forward, resting his forehead on your knees, his warm breath coursing across your skin. You feel the firm, steady pressure of his movements, the rush of his thrusts sliding you subtly over the surface of the mattress. Your feet rest flat against his chest, and the position only intensifies every sensation that passes through your body. The sound of the oil mixed with the rhythm of his strokes fills the room with a rhythmic, intoxicating gush.

It is exquisite to see Isagi lost in this ecstasy, his thrusts are slow and deep giving you a glimpse of the pink tip of his cock peeking between your thighs. He is completely absorbed in you. Deep, halting moans escape his lips with increasing frequency, and he keeps his intense, clouded gaze fixed intently on you. His eyes seem to search for every detail that tells him you're enjoying this too as he lifts his face, and the dark locks of his messy hair over his forehead give him an almost primal look. Every sign on him, from the tremor in his shoulders to the firmness with which he holds you, is a clear warning of how close he is to his limit.

Isagi adjusts you carefully, bending your knees so that every push of his cock rubs not only against the pressure of your thighs, but also against the soggy softness of your panties. The reddened, sensitive tip of his dick brushes the bud of your clit with every movement, further igniting the gasps that escape you, where his name slips on every exhale and his chest swells with raw pride.

“You're so pretty. Such a pretty girl, letting me fuck your thighs like this, ugh? Attagirl. My good girl.” The words, spoken in a low, almost reverent tone, sweep over you like a caress and light up your face, at the same time your thighs instinctively clench around him, earning a groan of approval from Isagi.

Eager to intensify the bond between the two of you, you lift up your shirt until your breasts, barely covered by a light pink bra that stands out against your skin, are in full view. The semi-transparent fabric reveals your hardened nipples that make Isagi's mouth water, and as you begin to caress them, tugging at them, Isagi's eyes glisten with desire as he curses between clenched teeth.

"You think you can cum like this? With my cock rubbing against your covered pussy, hm?”

“I-,” you gasp, tugging a little harder on your nipples as you imagine it's his fingers doing it. “I can try,” you whisper, feeling the arousal slide between your pussy lips with each rub.

The tension grows in your abdomen with every second, every caress and every word from him, like a spiral that pulls you mercilessly. “I think... I'm gonna cum,” you confess between ragged breaths.

“Do it, please. I can't cum without you cumming first.” Isagi pauses for just a moment, releasing your numb thighs to push your panties aside and reveal the trail of desire he left in you. Without wasting time, his fingers find your clit and caress it with precision, moving from side to side, causing you to arch your back, lifting you into his caresses. ”C'mon, baby. Give it to me, pretty please.”

His words, soft and possessive, are the last spark you need, and in a burst of pleasure you cover your face with your hands, trying to silence the scream escaping your throat as your thighs tremble uncontrollably under the intensity of your orgasm. He responds with tender kisses, covering every corner of your skin within his reach as he stops assaulting your sensitive clit to then massage your skin.

He pulls you to him, kissing you with a mixture of tenderness and passion. As his lips play with yours, your hand finds his cock, still throbbing, ready and warm against your belly. Without hesitation, you begin to jerk him off with steady rhythm, catching his moans and whispers on your tongue, until finally his release comes. With a deep shudder, his orgasm explodes, leaving a string of heavy white ropes painting your tummy. 

Between deep breaths, you both share one last complicit giggle before Isagi drops down beside you. Small beads of sweat cover his temples and chest.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek gently. His blue eyes fixed on yours, trapping you in that ocean.

Biting your lip, you nod. “Let's do it again,” you whisper with a playful giggle. “Next time, I want you inside.”

Isagi holds his breath for a moment, taken aback by the audacity of your words. But excitement quickly replaces any hint of nerves, and in one swift movement, he positions himself on top of you again, making you chuckle with his enthusiasm.

“Are you ready again already?” he joins in as an accomplice to your laughter, with a playful glint in his eyes.

“And you're not?” he murmurs, hiding in the line of your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses leading down to your neck.

“First, water and a movie,” you propose, stroking his hair and the action instantly makes him purr. “I wanna cuddle with you.”

“Anything else you're craving?” he asks, pulling away a little with a silly grin, completely uninhibited.

“A massage would be nice, you left me a little sore.”

Isagi nods, with obvious kindness. “I'm gonna order something sweet for the both of us too; I'm very hungry all of a sudden.”

Just as he gets ready to get up in search of his phone, you stop him, intertwining your fingers with his and gently catching his attention. Isagi looks at you intently, expectantly.

“I love you,” you whisper, and the raw sincerity in your words makes the moment go on forever, making it another memory Isagi will cling to when he's away from home.

He smiles at you, the sparkle in his eyes intensifying. “I love you more,” he replies, gently squeezing your hand. 

[voice-of-the-tired]

(ramblings of a madman upcoming. this is borderline nonsensical but I just gotta get this out there)

ugh, I LOVE the voices parallels so much. they make me insane. and I've been thinking about opportunist/hunted and skeptic/smitten the most rn.

for the first two, in their respective chapter 2s they are survival responses put in situations where said responses are entirely reasonable, but will end up reinforcing the "status quo" if entertained. this is somewhat the case with most of the voices, but I think it's especially noticeable with them.

the opportunist has a "betray them before they ever get the chance to betray you" mentality, and would you look at that, the witch has the very same mentality! and he is CORRECT in thinking she will betray you. because she will. but by following him and what he thinks, you're just making it impossible to break the cycle of violence (this is literally the point of the thorn).

the hunted behaves... well, like prey, and uh. the beast IS a predator. he IS prey. she is hunting them. but if you just follow your instincts you'll never be able to free her, or defeat her, or leave together or learn about reconciliation or do anything else that isn't survive.

so their situations are reinforcing their behaviour, then their behaviour in turn reinforces their situation; they are stuck in a cycle. at least with the hunted you can have the skeptic to make a plan later on in the den, I guess. but it's still a fascinating thing.

I think the stubborn and the broken chapters are a bit similar to them in this regard, but those have more to do with giving meaning to the princess and choosing whether or not you should fight against it in the end. it's a bit of a different situation. skeptic and smitten also don't quite... doom themselves if you just follow them, even though they actively feed into the chapter's "concepts", because they're sort of "tools" made to complement and help you towards your goal (free the princess through skepticism or blind devotion) as opposed to survival responses.

talking about them... oh boy, skeptic and smitten in their respective chapter 2s. you can just go through with whatever the plan was (leave with her), but if you don't, they won't ever get the only thing they sought and will hurt others (and themselves) in their desperation. you take away smitten's happy ending, and you leave skeptic without answers, and to that they just. fucking lose it. going with the previous tool comparation, you could say that's what happens when a "tool" isn't useful in a specific situation any longer. it can't do anything else except for its designated function. so

when the illusion that love makes everything possible and that all you and the princess needed was each other shattered, the smitten couldn't believe it. this was everything he ever wanted and everything he knew; you are the hero. she is a damsel. you are in love. you save the damsel and live happily ever after. that's what HAD to happen, and if it didn't, then it will. he has to make it happen, because it can't and shouldn't work in any other way.

in the prisoner, if you don't take her head, you are shoved into eternal nothingness while left with only questions. what is this place? who is the narrator? what is he hiding? who is the princess? why is she locked up? how could she end the world? is there a world? where is it? why are we the ones doing this? why did the princess cut off her head? not only could they not go through with saving the princess like they tried before, but there are SO many questions, and skeptic didn't get any answers! they can't be left unanswered, the truth HAS to be unraveled. that's what he's been trying to do all along. it's the only thing that matters. they WILL keep going and they WILL figure it out.

they are too obsessed to care about anything else. they are too stuck in their tunnel vision to accept anything else. they are too far gone to do anything else.

lord help me I am going insane because of this game /pos