#I just feel so desperate for socialization

[meo-eiru]

Day 2 of Character Trivia Night! Just a heads up, I already tagged it with the necessary tw warnings but I'll be mentioning self harm so proceed with caution

For tonight we have Elias

Elias has a mother and father, and is an only child

His father is an office worker and his mother is a stay at home mom

He occasionally talks to them when they call him but doesn't actively try to keep a close bond with them

He had short brown hair before meeting you but after doing so he decided to switch to a more flashy appearance to make up for his lack of personality

He doesn't have a favorite or least favorite food but follows a strict diet to have a body to your liking

He's not a morning person but forces himself to wake up early to spend 1 to 2 hours in the bathroom prettying himself up

Has had the same manager for years but still can't remember his name

He had a few stalkers growing up and was even poisoned once after you two started dating

He was more worried about appearing sickly in front of you than almost dying so when you tried entering his room to check up on him he cried

Talking with a man for more 10 minutes, being alone with one for more than 5 minutes, not returning his calls or messages within 1 minute, not looking at him once for more than half an hour when you two are together and not complimenting him at least 30 times during the day all counts as signs of cheating in his eyes

If you show attraction to another men, such as an idol or celebrity, he'll start mimicking their looks and behavior

He desperately wants to kill the people around you but last time he tried it he almost messed everything up so now he just pretends to be a victim and ruins them socially

He's not such a high ranking model because besides his good looks he lacks presence, but he does have a decent social media following

He doesn't post that often and when he does they are either just photos or a few words, it was enough to gather a small cult following though

He does have a private account he uses to vent, he usually uses it like a diary to write about you but when he gets distressed his posts turn very aggressive

He occasionally does self harm, he doesn't particularly enjoy the feeling but he loves the expression on your face when you see it

He usually uses it as a trick to manipulate you. Once he couldn't contact you for an hour so he just spammed you with pictures of a particularly deep wound and "I'm ending it since you apparently don't care about me" messages.

You had to run to his house only to find him lightheaded from blood loss, but he just greeted you with a smile and hug like his arm wasn't dripping blood

If you can't take it and try to break up with him he'll take it outside, start making a scene, gather a crowd and threaten to jump off until you take it back due to public pressure

He doesn't particularly care about the scars left during these outbursts since he views them as memories the two of you share but if someone else leaves a scar on him, even by accident, he'll have a breakdown and attack the person until someone pulls him back

His favorite dates are the ones where you two just laze around in bed the whole day, open a random show and have sex instead of actually watching it

He's mostly fine with you having your own hobbies and interests but if you seem to enjoy them a bit too much for his liking he'll start throwing tantrums to get you to do them less

He has two moles right above his butt, on the left

[latanyalove]

Sick Day

Summary: You're sick but you don't want to disturb your busy captain and the crew.

Song: Coming Down by The Weeknd

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

The salt spray stung your face as you clung to the railing of the submarine, Polar Tang. The familiar rocking of the vessel usually soothed you, but today, it churned your stomach with a vengeance. Each swell sent a wave of nausea crashing over you, and the lump in your throat threatened to betray the secret you’d been desperately trying to keep.

“Another beautiful day at sea, eh, Y/N?” Shachi called out, his ever-present grin plastered on his face. He approached, a length of rope slung over his shoulder, and threw an arm around your shoulders.

His touch, normally comforting, felt like a brand on your feverish skin.

“Gorgeous,” you managed, forcing a smile and leaning away slightly. “Just taking in the fresh air.”

Shachi, bless his oblivious heart, seemed to buy it. “That’s the spirit! Captain’s in the library, buried in some ancient medical text again. Probably trying to find a cure for boredom.” He chuckled. “Don’t think he’s slept in days. You should see the bags under his eyes.”

Your heart clenched. That was precisely the reason you were out here, battling the waves and the growing weakness in your limbs. Trafalgar Law, your…everything, was already overworked.

He dedicated his life to the well-being of his crew, pushing himself relentlessly. The last thing he needed was you adding to his burden with a simple cold.

“Maybe I will,” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. “Catch up on some reading myself.” You detached yourself from Shachi’s grip and hurried below deck, hoping he didn’t notice the tremor in your hands.

The air inside the submarine was thick and humid, doing little to alleviate the chill that had settled deep in your bones. You bypassed the library – Law’s sanctuary – and stumbled toward your shared cabin.

Collapsing onto the bunk, you pulled the threadbare blanket over yourself, trying to ignore the throbbing in your head and the scratchiness in your throat.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

Bepo’s anxious voice cut through the fog in your brain. You peeked out from under the blanket to see the massive polar bear crouched in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Fine, Bepo, fine,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket higher. “Just a little tired.”

Bepo wasn’t stupid. He knew you better than anyone, barring Law himself. He padded closer, his large paws silent on the metal floor.

“Your face is flushed,” he said, his voice laced with worry. “And you’re shivering. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just a little seasick,” you insisted, turning your face to the wall. “It’ll pass.”

Bepo hesitated, his ears twitching. “Maybe…maybe I should tell Captain.”

Panic flared in your chest. “No! Bepo, please don’t. He’s so busy. It’s nothing, I promise. Just let me rest.”

You knew you were being unreasonable, but desperation lent your voice a sharp edge. Bepo, always sensitive to your feelings, retreated slightly.

“Okay, Y/N,” he said softly. “But…but if you need anything, anything, you promise you’ll tell me?”

“I promise,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

Days blurred into a miserable cycle of stolen naps, forced smiles, and growing weakness. You avoided Law as much as possible, knowing he’d see through your charade in an instant.

You choked down your meals, forcing yourself to socialize with the crew, all the while battling a fever that threatened to consume you.

The hardest part was keeping your distance from Law. You craved his touch, his presence, his unwavering gaze. He was your anchor, your safe harbor in a turbulent world.

But you couldn't risk him seeing you like this, a pathetic, sniffling mess. You’d rather suffer in silence than burden him with your trivial illness.

One evening, as you were attempting to sneak a cup of herbal tea – Penguin’s well-intentioned remedy, despite your protests – Law’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N.”

You froze, your back to him. The sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, a different kind of shiver than the one that racked your body with fever.

“Captain,” you said, turning around slowly. You tried to appear nonchalant, leaning against the counter as if you weren’t desperately trying to keep from collapsing.

He stood in the doorway to the galley, his dark eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. He was even more tired than Shachi had described, the lines around his mouth etched deeper, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated, his voice flat.

You forced a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, Captain. I’ve just been…busy.”

He raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge. “Busy doing what, exactly? Trying to master the art of disappearing?”

You swallowed, your throat burning. “I…I just wanted to give you space. You’ve been working so hard.”

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “And you think hiding from me is helping?” He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead. You flinched, but he didn’t pull away.

“You’re burning up,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “How long have you been sick?”

The fight drained out of you. There was no point in denying it any longer. He knew. He always knew.

“A few days,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

His grip on your forehead tightened slightly. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

You looked up at him, your eyes pleading. “I didn’t want to bother you. You have so much to worry about.”

He sighed, a sound of weary exasperation. “Y/N…" He took your hand in his, his thumb stroking the back of your palm. "You are never a bother. Ever. Do you understand?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “But…”

“No buts,” he interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “Come with me.”

He led you back to your cabin, carefully helping you onto the bunk. He didn’t say anything as he peeled off your clammy clothes and wrapped you in a fresh blanket. He worked with a practiced efficiency, his movements precise and gentle.

He summoned Bepo, who scurried off to fetch a basin of cool water and some clean cloths. Law sat beside you, dipping the cloth in the water and gently dabbing your forehead.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked again, his voice softer this time.

Your voice was hoarse. “I was scared.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and something else, something that made your heart flutter despite the throbbing in your head.

“Scared of what?”

“That you’d be angry,” you whispered. “That I’d be a burden.”

He shook his head, his dark hair falling across his forehead. “You could never be a burden, Y/N. And I could never be angry at you for being sick.”

He continued to bathe your forehead in silence, his touch soothing and comforting. You closed your eyes, letting the cool water and his presence wash over you.

“From now on,” he said softly, after a long silence, “no more secrets. Not from me. Understand?”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

“I understand,” you whispered.

The next few days were a blur of fever dreams and Law’s unwavering care. He made you herbal teas, insisted on you resting, and even managed to coax a few bites of bland food past your protesting stomach.

The crew tiptoed around the cabin, whispering their well wishes and leaving small gifts – a rare orange, a hand-knitted scarf, a crudely drawn get-well card from Bepo.

Slowly, the fever began to break. The throbbing in your head subsided, and the nausea faded. You started to feel like yourself again, a little weak perhaps, but alive.

One evening, as you sat propped up in bed, reading a worn paperback, Law entered the cabin. He carried a tray with a steaming mug and a plate of crackers.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Much better, thank you," you replied, offering a tentative smile. "I'm almost back to normal."

He placed the tray on the small table beside your bed. "Good. I was starting to miss your sharp wit and irritating questions."

You chuckled, a genuine sound this time. "Irritating questions? You're just jealous of my superior intellect."

He smirked, a rare and precious sight. "Of course. That must be it." He leaned back against the wall, watching you as you sipped your tea. The silence that followed was comfortable, a familiar rhythm between you.

"Law," you began hesitantly, "I wanted to thank you. For everything."

He raised an eyebrow. "There's no need. I just did what anyone would have done."

You shook your head. "No, you went above and beyond. You could have left it to the others, but you didn't. You took care of me. And I... I really appreciate it."

He pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer. "Y/N," he said, his voice low and serious, "you're important to me."

Your heart leaped in your chest. "I –"

He cut you off, continuing before you could overthink and ruin the moment. "You're smart, resourceful, and you have this infuriating way of always knowing exactly what to say to piss me off, but also... to make me laugh. You bring a unique perspective to the crew. You challenge me."

He paused, his eyes searching yours. "And," he swallowed hard, "you're… kind of… essential to me."

You stared at him, speechless. Essential? Was he… could he possibly…

He seemed to realize what he had said, the implications of his words hitting him like a tidal wave. His cheeks flushed a faint pink, and he looked away, running a hand through his hair.

"I… I didn’t mean to say that," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"You didn't?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

He looked back at you, his gaze intense. "Well, I mean… I did. But… I didn't mean to say it like that. It just sort of… came out." He was a mess, a far cry from the stoic, collected captain you knew him to be.

You couldn't help but laugh, a nervous, shaky sound. "So, you're saying you didn't intend to accidentally confess your… whatever this is, to me, while I'm still recovering from a fever?"

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is a disaster."

You reached out and took his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. "Hey," you said softly, "it's okay. It's more than okay."

He looked up, his eyes filled with doubt and a glimmer of hope. "It is?"

You squeezed his hand. "Yes, Law. It is. Because… I feel the same way."

His eyes widened. "You… you do?"

You nodded, your heart soaring. "I do. I have for a long time."

A slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features. It was the most genuine, unguarded smile you had ever seen. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear.

"Then maybe," he whispered, "this accidental confession wasn't such a disaster after all."

He leaned in closer, and you closed your eyes, anticipation flooding your senses. His lips brushed against yours, a tentative, feather-light touch. It was a promise, a beginning.

The door to the cabin slid open with a bang, and Penguin's head popped in. "Captain! We've spotted–" He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in the scene. "Oh. Sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

Law pulled away, his cheeks flushing again. "Yes, Penguin. You are."

Penguin backed out of the cabin, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and amusement. "Right. Carry on, then. I'll just… tell the others to steer clear." He disappeared, leaving you and Law alone once more.

You both burst out laughing, the tension finally dissipating. The world outside your tiny cabin seemed to fade away, leaving only you and Law, the quiet hum of the Polar Tang, and the undeniable spark of something new, something real, igniting between you.

The fever might have been a curse, but it had inadvertently led to a cure for a different kind of ailment, one you had both been suffering from in silence for far too long.

And maybe, just maybe, accidental confessions were the best kind. . . .

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Desperation Bruce Wayne x fem!Reader

MDNI wc: 1.8K warnings: smut, softdom!bruce, p in v, light spanking (?), praise, was too lazy to write the aftercare, so just imagine it summary: Bruce gets frustrated at the charity event and eventually takes it out on you once you are home. a/n: divider (@saradika-graphics), i felt myself cringe while writing this, and that usually means that i did well. but still, im sorry if it's too cheesy or unrealistic, i did my best to give you my vision😖

You know that Bruce despises events like these, too many rich people who never had to work a single day in their life, who always try to brag to him about the most unimpressive stuff, or try to have intelligent conversations about economics or social studies. It‘s all the same stuff as well, it‘s always the same ‘intelligent‘ discoveries these people try to tell him about. Fortunately, you only had to hear about Bruce complains and never had to fave these people on your own. Unfortunately, you convinced your husband to tag along with him tonight.

You didn‘t expect for a lot of people to approach the both of you, but it still happened, as Bruce is used to. But when they did, they never really acknowledged you. The very least someone did acknowledge you, was to simply give you a side glance before continuing to ‘subtly‘ brag about about how many cars he has.

Bruce‘s hand stays at its familiar place, around your waist, giving you an occasional squeeze. The squeezes become more frequent as the people around the round table keep talking to him, not giving him a chance to even steal a sip of his drink. You notice his growing frustration, even when he hides it well. The guests around the ball room are chatting amongst themselves, creating a bubble of mixed conversations, together with the subtle scent of alcohol and different perfumes. No doubts, expensive.

Finally, Bruce has a brilliant idea, and excuses the two of you from the table, before standing up and walking to the middle of the dance area.

»All this talk about money and expensive models gets on my nerves… they don‘t even bother talking about the topic of today‘s event.« He murmurs lowly as he smoothly glides you along with him, one hand holding yours, the other propped up against the curve of your waist.

You chuckle softly in return, studying his tired features, »I know... they actually make me feel like an intelligent person for once.«

Bruce expression softens finally, keeping his eyes glued to you.

»You are intelligent… even if it‘s not hard to be smarter than them.« He can‘t help but tease lightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. You pinch his shoulder in return, crinkling his perfect suit slightly.

Your peaceful dance under the classical music from the romantic era gets interrupted as a rather old man approaches the both of you, wearing a rich smile on his face. Bruce‘s expression falls immediately, reluctantly stopping the dance, even though he selfishly wants to keep going and ignore everyone else. But that would be childish, too.

»I sincerely apologise for interrupting your wonderful dance, but I was wondering...«

Your husband restrains himself from letting out the most annoyed sigh ever, keeping himself composed in front of the unfamiliar man. Maybe another economics man, ready to ramble his ears off about nothing other than his spendings on money and begging for Bruce‘s opinion about his decisions.

You watch them interact with a faint smile, knowing very well about your husband‘s annoyance, noticing his jaw clench every now and then. Luckily, the older men steps away, leaving you alone.

»He could‘ve just… nevermind.« Bruce sighs out, not bothering to curse him out, considering you are both still at a public event. He shakes his head lightly and focuses his gaze back on you, expression growing less guarded. »Ready to leave? It‘s getting late.«

You can‘t deny his offer, getting sick of the sticky air inside the ballroom as well. Bruce feels more than reliefed once you step out of the large, barouque building, approaching the car, where Alfred‘s already sitting inside, waiting to drive you both home.

◖

Once inside, Bruce gets rid of his tie and hangs up his suit jacket, before he finally turns his full attention to you. You just got rid of your high heels and can‘t wait to slip into bed to give your feet a break, but once you glance at Bruce, you‘re sure this won‘t be happening anytime soon.

»I don‘t know ‘bout you, but this evening made me really worked up...«

He slurs out quietly while taking some steps closer to you, secretly hoping you feel the same way. He doesn‘t need to hope though, because you‘d be happy to provide him in anything. You nod in response, letting him come closer and almost close the gap between you both.

��Oh, definitely… but I kinda enjoyed seeing you frustrated for once.« You smirk up at him, a mischivous glint in your eyes. It makes him shakes his head lightly in return, although the corners of his lips curl up slightly.

»Cheeky,« he exhales softly before pulling you closer by your hip, gently connecting your lips into a sweet kiss. Your hand props up at his chest, curling around the cool fabric while Bruce deepens the kiss. He makes you tilt your head, his larger hand resting by the nape of your neck.

It takes a lot in him not to finish what he started in the hallway, but he eventually breaks the kiss and takes steadying breaths, his eyes trained on you like a prey.

Your back hits the door as soon as you reach your master bedroom, making you huff out softly. Bruce doesn‘t waste his time to attack your neck with open-mouthed kisses and light bites, working his way down to the column of your throat, and down to your collarbones. A quiet hiss escapes you as you feel his bites become harsher, probably enough to create faint marks the next day. Your hands desperately clinge to his shoulders, one at the back of his neck, keeping him close while keeping you steady on your feet. A soft growl escapes him, seeming impatient. His hands finally stop roaming over you curves, picking you up by the back of your thighs. He sets you up against the next furniture, his moves being rushed and needy. Due to his rushed demeanor, he placed you down on the surface of the dresser messily, making you shift to be more comfortable on it.

»Sorry, I… I didn‘t hurt you, right?« He catches his breath as he takes you in on top of the dresser, noticing your flushed demeanor.

»I‘m all good, just didn‘t expect this,« you answer, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt. Bruce grows smug at your action, letting himself be pulled close again. His breath fans against you before he nuzzles to your neck. You feel a gentle tap at your thigh, his voice coming out low and commanding.

»C‘mon… spread,«

A light shiver goes through your spine, listening to his words without a single thought in your head. He settles in once your legs allow him to, pushing your evening dress a little more up.

You feel his cool hands trace your body until one of them travels down to your middle, gently rubbing and starting to work you up further. A breathy sigh leaves your lips before Bruce crashes his lips onto yours, swallowing all of your sounds. You weakly grip to his upper arm, supporting yourself as best as you can. His hand quickens its pace against your core through your lacy panties, making your brain melt. Your lips part further as your mind goes slack, allowing him to deepen the kiss and rub slow circles against your tongue with his.

A quiet whine leaves you as he suddenly stops, breaking the kiss too.

»Sorry, darl‘… patience.« He mumbles softly as he starts to undo his belt, keeping his hazy eyes trained on your face. You grow hotter under his eyes, trying to rub your thighs together again, but it‘s impossible with him between your legs. A faint smirk tugs at his lips, dragging his teeth against his bottom lip once his pants finally fall down.

Your eyes fall to his boxers, noticing the light patch on the front. Without further hesitation, Bruce‘s boxer briefs get pulled down, mixed with a quiet groan from his side.

He leans in again, his hot skin pressing against yours, feeling like you‘ll melt any second. You feel the way his lips trace along the side of your neck while he gently teases you, feeling his tip nudge against the outside of your panties. Your hand shoots out to hold onto him again, settling against his shirt as you grip tightly on him.

Having had finally enough of it, he pushes your panties to the side and dives in, being as gentle as he can, even in his desperate state. You tense up at the sensation, not used to his size, due to the busy lives of you both.

»Shh… it‘s okay. I‘ve got you,« Bruce gently shushes you and wrap his arms around your torso, keeping you close against him as he continues to gently drive in further.

You slowly relax again and regain your breath, keeping a tigh grip against his shirt. Once he bottoms out, you can‘t help but tremble slightly, being overwhelmed with the hotness and full feeling he provides. You nod against his shoulder, giving him the final sign for him to start out properly.

His rhythm starts out slow and sensual, but it quickly evolves into a quicker and rougher pace. He drives more urgently into you, trying to be gentle at the same time. The strokes are deep, knocking the breath out of your lungs. He adjusts his grip on you, changing the angle lightly as he continues to shove his hips against yours, not giving you a break.

The room fills with soft flaps from skin slapping against skin, your breathy moans mix with his deep groans, making the scene more erotic than it already is. The sensations finally start to kick in, making your breath hitch. He notices the slight shift in you, knowing it won‘t take long for you to come undone before him.

He leans back a bit to watch your face, his hands keeping a firm grip on your hips as he pushes himself into you even harder than before. Your eyes roll back, moans growing higher in pitch. He relieshes in the way you melt because of him, the way you look like you are losing your mind, all because of him.

He groans and a possesive feeling overcomes him, making his hips snap rougher against yours. Sure enough, your climax comes in after a few final thrusts, his jaw going slack as he feels how tightly you squeeze him.

His pace doesn‘t die down, if anything, he‘s trying to speed up a little further. It‘s not until he feels himself grow closer to the edge until he pulls out and continues to drive himself to pleasure with his fist. You hear him moan out softly and nestle his head against your shoulder once he finishes, white spurts of his cum painting your panties white. You run your hand along his back in a soothing motion, helping him calm down too. He comes down faster than you, meeting his eyes again after catching his breath.

»Let‘s clean ya‘ up… did so well for me.« He mutters as he rubs your upper thighs, eventually picking you back up into his arms and walking to the attached bathroom.

←MASTERLIST

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Author's Note: Old request #3! More Idia for the soul 💙 I think I have a thing for shut-ins/gamer nerds/socially awkward men 💀

Pairings: Idia x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Idia, adult Idia, teasing, rough sex, breeding kink, college AU

The bed creaked horribly as the two bodies on top of it collided again and again. Your cock—buried to the hilt inside of your boyfriend—slammed into Idia's ass, leaving his cheeks red and tender from the abuse. Idia's sharp teeth tore into his pillow while his dick rubbed against the sheets from the power of your thrusts.

If your rooms were any further apart, you'd never have such wonderful mornings like this; Mornings where you dump a load or two into Idia before you head off to your classes, leaving him floating on cloud nine as he can't ignore the gooey mess dripping out of his hole and into his boxers until lunchtime. Yeah, mornings like these were the best 💙

“Mmmkhnmffnh-”

“What was that? Can't hear you when you're chewing on your pillow, babe.”

Idia unclenches his jaw long enough to whine “I said n-n-not so rough… aah! If you keep doing that, I won't be able to walk to class–” before chomping down on the plump surface again when you pound into him even harder.

“As if you wouldn't enjoy staying home. Besides, you were just on your knees begging me to– hnmgh… begging me to breed your cunt, remember?”

Your full weight is on top of him—crushing him against the mattress. Idia's eyes roll into his skull when you fill him the first time, followed by a long moan that drips from his lips like honey.

You don't pull out. Cum fills Idia's hole, plugged inside by your thick dick, and he can't fight you off when your tip is so far inside that it practically fucks his brain dumb — not that he really wants you off, anyway. With your pretty boy all pliant, you lift his hips and press a hand on his upper back, forcing him into an arch. Once again, Idia's ass becomes your fleshlight.

“Mhhnmfn–!”

You repeat your earlier sentiment about not being able to understand him when he has a mouth full of pillow.

“Aah- breed me!” Idia cries. Exhausted, but desperate to feel more of your seed flood his guts before his legs quit working entirely. Though staying inside and not dealing with people sounds rather tempting…

Per his request, you fuck another load deep into his hole, pressing your hips as close as physically possible into him so that your cock can unload all the way inside. Still not pulling out, you rub Idia's shoulder while you recover. The entire time, he whines into the pillow, grumbling as you plant little kisses on the back of his neck and try to cheer him up.

His head lifts off of the pillow and he says in a raspy voice, “If I get pregnant because of you, we're in trouble…”

“……Idia? Do you actually…?”

“What?” he finally turns to face you. His brows are furrowed, and the slight annoyance on his face makes you realize that he's serious.

“………”

“Y/n???”

“…you're right, you really shouldn't skip class…”

[billiesbabygirleilish]

Billie x guitarist reader where Billie and reader are friends but there is obvious tension between them. Reader loves to post guitar thirst traps on her socials and Billie is seen by fans in the readers comment section flirting. There is some chatter and fans are starting to notice when Billie is out with her friend group, they see reader and Billie kind of all over each other. Can take place at one of billies shows, billies guitarist is sick so asks reader to fill in (even though reader is just there to help in the background) reader agrees and Billie gets reader to play next to her in one of her songs (you can pick which one baby) and they interact in a cute flirty way in the show.After the show they have a moment can be fluff or smut up to you. They get spotted kissing later at an after party (set at an LA show) Billie posts a pic on her ig story kissing reader (like the Odessa pic) then deletes it and just refuses to talk about it. But people definitely think something is going on because they see that Maggie, Finn and Claudia follow reader on ig.

I’ll leave it up to you to fill in the inbetween but it’s just a thought I’ve had in my head 🤭

an: OK FIRST OFF DAMN I LOVE THE IDEAS IN YOUR HEAD AND SECOND HERE YA GO

Strings of Fate

.*.*.*.*.*➳➳➳➳➳┄┄🎸┄┄➳➳➳➳➳.*.*.*.*.*

.*.*.*.*.*➳➳➳➳➳┄┄🎸┄┄➳➳➳➳➳.*.*.*.*.*

The stale beer smell of the Forum backstage clung to your clothes even before you stepped foot into the madness. You loved the organized chaos, the pre-show jitters, the energy crackling in the air like static electricity. Tonight felt different, though. Beyond the familiar hum, there was a nervous thrum in your gut.

You were usually just here to help out. Lugging equipment, fetching water, making sure Billie's notoriously picky team had everything they needed. But tonight, Billie’s guitarist, Justin, was down with a nasty flu. And Billie, in a moment of sheer desperation, had practically begged you to fill in.

“Please, you’re the only one I trust!” she'd pleaded, her eyes wide and genuinely worried. “You know all the songs, you’re a damn good guitarist, and… and you just get it.”

You hadn’t played a show this big in years. You’d been content with your Instagram guitar thirst traps, short snippets of riffs and soulful solos that garnered a surprising amount of attention. Especially from a certain Billie Eilish, who had a habit of leaving flirty little comments like, “Damn, those fingers do more than just play guitar, huh?” or “Can I borrow that guitar? For… reasons.”

Those comments were half the reason you agreed.

Now, standing backstage, tuning Justin's guitar, you could feel Billie’s eyes on you. You glanced up, catching her leaning against a road case, arms crossed, a small smirk playing on her lips.

“Nervous?” she asked, her voice low and husky.

You chuckled, trying to keep your voice steady. “A little. Haven’t played in front of this many people since… well, ever.”

“Relax,” she said, pushing herself off the case and walking towards you. “You’re gonna crush it. I know you will.” She stopped right in front of you, close enough that you could smell her signature vanilla perfume. “Besides,” she added, a playful glint in her eyes, “I’ll be there to hold your hand… metaphorically, of course.”

The night flew by in a blur of flashing lights, screaming fans, and the adrenaline-fueled roar of the music. Your fingers moved instinctively, years of practice kicking in as you navigated the familiar tunes. But the real highlight was “The 30th.”

Billie walked over to you mid-song, a mischievous grin on her face. "Alright, superstar, show 'em what you got.” She nodded towards the sea of faces, her eyes sparkling.

The spotlight hit you and you launched into the guitar solo, a bluesy lament that echoed the song’s bittersweet melody. You poured every ounce of feeling into it, lost in the moment, your fingers dancing across the fretboard. When you finished, the crowd erupted, and Billie grabbed your hand, holding it aloft as she sang the final verse, her voice tinged with a vulnerability that sent shivers down your spine.

After the show, backstage was a whirlwind of congratulations and high-fives. You found yourself pushed up against a wall, Billie’s body pressed close to yours.

“You were incredible,” she breathed, her voice a low rumble. “Seriously, that solo… wow.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Thanks. You weren’t so bad yourself.”

The air crackled between you. You could feel her gaze burning into you, and you knew, without a doubt, that she felt it too.

“Can I… can I steal you away from all this for a second?” she murmured, her hand finding your waist.

You didn’t even have time to answer before she was leading you out of the chaos and into a quiet storage room. The only light came from a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling.

She turned to face you, her expression serious for a moment. Then, she reached up and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” she whispered, and before you could say anything, she leaned in and kissed you.

It was soft at first, hesitant, a tentative exploration. But then she deepened the kiss, her lips molding against yours, her hand tightening on your waist. It was everything you’d imagined, and more. It was a kiss that tasted of longing and unspoken desires, a kiss that promised so much more.

Later that night, at the after-party, surrounded by flashing lights and pulsating music, the tension between you and Billie was palpable. You kept finding yourselves drawn to each other, whispers and stolen glances exchanged across the crowded room.

Then, it happened. Someone snapped a picture. You and Billie, locked in a passionate kiss against a graffiti-covered wall.

The next morning, your phone was blowing up. The picture was everywhere. Billie had posted it on her Instagram story – a grainy, blurry shot, but undeniably you two – and then, just as quickly, deleted it.

The internet exploded. Theories ran rampant. Were you dating? Was it just a one-time thing? (absolutely not)

Billie, true to form, remained silent. She didn’t address the picture, didn’t deny or confirm anything.

But then, you noticed something. Maggie, Billie’s mom, had started following you on Instagram. So had Finneas, her brother, and Claudia, his girlfriend.

It was a small thing, a seemingly insignificant detail, but it spoke volumes. It said, "We see you. We know what’s going on. And we approve.”

You still hadn't talked to Billie about it. Not really. You’d exchanged a few texts, mostly just emojis. But you knew. You both did. Something had shifted. The kiss had opened a door, and neither of you seemed inclined to close it.

You scrolled through your Instagram feed, stopping at a new post from Billie. It was a candid shot of her laughing, her eyes crinkled at the corners. The caption was simple: "Life is weird. (and sometimes, really, really good.)"

You knew she was talking about you. And you felt a slow smile spread across your face. Life was weird. But you had a feeling it was about to get a whole lot weirder. And you couldn't wait to see what happened next.

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Social climbers and the relationship with power: Ada's tragedy

You buddies don't dimension how much I raised my eyebrows when I saw this scene:

Ada climbing on top of a deer (a very typical symbolic representation of noble masculinity) who is trying to fiercely shake her off while she desperately clings to him with all her might...

And is THAT what makes her have a flashback of her relationship with Tamerline? Buddy, I'm putting on a hat to take it off.

Anyway, this means I have enough material to talk about Ada.

Social climbers and power

Ada is, apparently, a social climber: she longs for a social space to which she feels she is entitled, but to which she considers herself not to belong. This is something that can give us clues about her socio-economic situation in life: social climbers are extremely common in spaces such as, for example, the child of a first generation of professionals or of parents who have been able to provide better economic passages despite not belonging to social elites.

So, one thing to be clear about the way Ada relates to people in general is through this lens: the way she tries to move up socially (i.e. to power) is through her relationships with people, if she is close to a person who has power or belongs to an elite, then she is accessing these spaces. If that person does not have it, then she uses the relationship to reassert the position she wants to have.

Ada's personal tragedy is that this way of relating to the world puts her in an extremely vulnerable position with respect to her interpersonal relationships because, if they were not asymmetrical from the beginning, she makes them asymmetrical. It's as true that Ada gets into complicated relationships willingly as it is that she is a victim of people like Tamerlane. You know, the same logic of tragedies.

So let me do a little review of all the relationships Ada has had in the comic, how they go and what is the pattern they follow.

The triad of discord

There are three things that all of Ada's relationships have in common (except one, but we'll get to that): 1) She seeks to get some sort of validation from the other person. 2) She tends to push the person's boundaries, even if they were explicitly stated. 3) Even if the person has some degree of affection or sympathy for her, Ada will never be her priority over other things. Be these things other people, personal desires, etc, etc.

So let's review this a bit.

Let's start with the bastard of Thomas Tamerline. If anything their interaction during chapter 110 makes clear to us is that the guy is quite explicit with the fact that this relationship is purely sex for him (and he possibly enjoys the degree of control he exerts over her), Ada repeatedly tries to get some validation or affection from him and the guy barely complies with the bare minimum.

That he ends up murdering her indicates that, regardless of motive, he sees her as an inconvenience to his personal desires that must be gotten out of the way and, as the icing on the cake, puts the responsibility on her.

Now on to Prospero. His resemblance to Thomas is obvious enough to understand why Ada would be attracted to him and constantly seeks to touch him or be near him, no matter how much Prospero tells her that he is not interested in her. This is an attitude she has even before Annabel encourages her by saying that “Prospero is just being shy”.

Eventually it happens what it does: Prospero is fed up with her and doesn't hesitate to tell her so to her face. We can argue whether or not he's justified in being this cruel, but by the standards of this argument that's irrelevant: the important thing here is that Prospero doesn't care about Ada's feelings enough to be nicer.

Let's go now to Lenore. Ada is extremely mean to her until Lenore demonstrates that she was able to pass the maze test on her own. This is, in Ada's eyes, a demonstration of power and she, as she is wont to do, will not pass up the opportunity to get on the good side of a person who could be a potential rising star.

This is cut short by her same group, but they reconnect at the mansion trial. Since Lenore is not interested in relating on power terms (for better and for worse), here they have the opportunity to share on more equal terms on both their parts. Yes, Lenore is also doing this for personal reasons, but it doesn't take away from the merit.

Ada ends up overstepping boundaries and betraying Lenore at the end of the trial. And after she learns of her Ada's involvement in Duke's kidnapping, well, all she has to say when Pluto fills her in is says that shitty relationship is strangely appropriate.

Yes, Lenore may have come to have some degree of affection for her, but Ada is no more important than her friends and after getting into something like that, to hell with her.

With Annabel things start to get more interesting. These two have a cocktail of projection and resentment between them: Annabel is all Ada wants, so she treats her like a pretty accessory that gives her status (something that definitely oversteps Annabel's boundaries, even if she hasn't expressed them because it doesn't suit her) and, to Annabel, Ada is little more than an important piece she can take advantage of.

This take it with a grain of salt because there are some “buts.”

On Ada's side, that she seeks help from Annabel when Montresor is being a fucking psycho is an indicator that she felt, at least, protected by Annabel. But as is often the case with her, the plan Annabel is carrying out is no more important than Ada, she just lets it happen.

Twice. Under the circumstances, Annabel chooses to help Prospero over Ada.

However, Ada is not indifferent to Annabel: she is definitely furious with Montresor after what he did (In fact, this is the only scene so far where we have seen Annabel exercising any form of physical aggression)., she is uncomfortable when Prospero is mean to Ada, and there are a few small frames where she looks at her with sincere pity.

But again, that won't make Annabel prioritize her over her own plans.

Finally, we come to the most interesting relationship here.

Ada definitely cares about Morella, but that won't make constantly denigrating her a reaffirmation of the position she believes (or wants) to have: making comments like Morella's food “is poor.” Ada pecks at the boundaries with a stick, yet these things -for some reason- don't seem to bother Morella, who is able to see the good in her despite her bad attitudes. Until she stops doing it because not only participating in Duke's kidnapping, but also trying to play cool by making excuses is out of bounds even for Morella.

But an interesting thing happens here too, remember how Ada is never a priority for anyone? Well, for a moment in her relationship with Morella it looks like this is going to be different. Morella makes a feeble attempt to defend her when Montresor makes her bark and puts a shield in her face when Prospero attacks her in the mansion trial.

Unfortunately for Ada, Morella is someone too lacking in backbone and too concerned with following the rules to stand up for her when it really counts.

After Ada manifests and bursts into tears, she pushes Morella away from her with a shove.

Morella says she wants to help, but all it takes is for Poppet to remind her that she needs to get back the Merits she lost for Morella to finally give in.

The two people Ada considered her friends have left her: Annabel has chosen to help Prospero and Morella has left.

That's when Montresor enters.

And here begins the first break in Ada's toxic pattern of relationships...but not for the better.

Ada and Montresor

Oddly enough, these two are a good match...for horrible reasons. Montresor, like Ada, is a social climber who uses interpersonal relationships to get closer to power, only in a different way: where Ada sticks it to people who hold power, Montresor uses others to reassert himself in a position of power. So, Ada feeds Montresor's ego, while he can pretend to like her enough to keep Ada happy.

Because yes, Ada and Montresor's relationship fulfills most of the bad patterns in relationships that Ada usually has: she seeks validation in this relationship and Montresor definitely doesn't prioritize her (she constantly has to compete with Will for Montresor's attention, for example). But the important thing here is that, for once, Ada isn't the one constantly pecking at the other person's boundaries: it's Montresor who does it.

He pushes her around, teases her, calls her by other women's names, and it's probably only a matter of time before this starts to get worse. What's interesting is that Ada is able to get upset when this happens, unlike what we see in the flashback to her relationship with Thomas.

So there is something changing here.

Conclusion

I'm not sure where this is going to lead, but one thing is for sure: Montresor is a reflection of a toxic pattern of behavior that Ada has in her relationships and if she's starting to get uncomfortable with it, it's not just because the abyss is staring back at her, but because she's getting herself into a situation too similar to her relationship with Thomas to not know how it might end.

Add to that this:

This is the first time in the comic that Ada has had such a selfless gesture for another person. And that selfless gesture is something as big as putting herself in danger to save someone. As if all this wasn't enough, it's been to save Annabel: one of the two friends who turned their backs on her when she needed them.

I don't know if this will be the start of her character development or we should interpret it as deathflags placed over her head, but one thing is for sure: whatever is going to come out of here has quite a bit of potential.

[h0efor2ho]

Tutoring Temptation

Wonwoo X Reader

WC - 6.1k ( I got carried away )

TW - Nerd!Wonwoo, there is plot here with the porn, fingering, oral (f), unprotected sex (wrap it kids) cream pie, Wonwoo is the sweetest ever.

You'v always been a pretty good student. Able to keep up a 3.6 gpa while still having a decent social life. That was till you entered advanced calculus in your second year of college. You just couldn't grasp it no matter how hard you tried to study. Your grades dropping down to a 3.2 gpa. Your parents threatening to pull you out of school if you don't get your shit together. "Stop partying and start studying" your mother said. So you did. Spending night after night reading your text book, looking over your notes. Turning down invitations to house parties. Even going as far as to record your class and watch it back later. That's when you noticed that the guy who sits in the front of the room seems to always raise his hand and always gets the answer right. The idea formed in your head right away. You'd ask him to tutor you. You desperately needed the help and you figured he knew what he was doing.

The next day you make your way to class early, waiting and looking as students file into the lecture hall. It doesn't take long before you see his head of dark hair enter the room and make a b-line for the front seat. You quickly make your was down the steps past people talking till your feet hit the bottom floor and turn to carry you right up to his chair. He's bent over, back angled toward you as he pulls things out of his bag. His shirt neatly tucked into his brown pants, with a blazer over it. He doesn't notice you at all. "Uhm hey..."

Shit, you dont even know his name. You try and think back to the videos from class, of your professor calling him by name when you raised his hand. You're drawing a blank. He spins in his chair, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looks up at you. "Uhmm" you say again as you take in his features. He's not that bad looking for a nerd persay you think. "Wonwoo" he says snapping you out of your own thoughts. "huh" you ask.

"Wonwoo. My name. It's Wonwoo" he gives you a small smile. "Oh yea." you give him a small nervous laugh. "Sorry, I'm bad with names. I'm also really bad at calculus. Which is why I'm here bothering you. I was hoping maybe you could tutor me?" you finish rambling and give him what you hope is not a cringy smile. Wonwoo tilts his head slightly, considering your request. His dark eyes study you for a moment before he replies, "I see. And here I thought you might be asking me on a date," he quips, his voice low and unexpectedly smooth. You feel heat rise to your cheeks, caught off guard by his playful response. "Oh, uh, no... I mean, not that you're not... I just..." you stammer, mentally kicking yourself for suddenly losing your ability to form coherent sentences.

He chuckles softly, seemingly enjoying your flustered state. "Relax, I'm just teasing. I suppose I could help you out. When were you thinking?" Relief washes over you. "Really? That would be amazing. I'm free pretty much any evening. Whatever works best for you." He nods, pulling out a small planner from his bag. "How about tomorrow night at 7? We can meet at the library." "Perfect," you say, trying not to sound too eager. "Thank you so much, Wonwoo. I really appreciate it." He gives you another small smile. "No problem. Just make sure you bring your textbook and notes." You nod enthusiastically, about to respond when the professor walks in and calls the class to order. You quickly make your way back to your seat, heart beating a little faster than usual.

As you sit down, you can't help but glance down at Wonwoo. He's already focused on the professor, his pen poised over his notebook. You find yourself wondering what he's like outside of class. Is he always so composed? Does he ever let loose? The lecture begins, but your mind keeps drifting back to your upcoming tutoring session. You try to concentrate, scribbling down notes and formulas, but your thoughts are a jumble of calculus and curiosity about your new tutor. The rest of the day passes in a blur. You barely remember your other classes, your mind preoccupied with preparing for tomorrow night. That evening, you gather your calculus materials, making sure everything is organized and ready. You even jot down a list of specific questions and problem areas you want to address. That night, you toss and turn, your mind racing with thoughts of complex equations and Wonwoo's unexpected charm. When you finally drift off, your dreams are a bizarre mix of calculus symbols and dark, knowing eyes behind glasses.

The next day drags on endlessly. You constantly check the time, willing the hours to pass faster. When 6:30 finally rolls around, you grab your backpack and head to the library arriving early, claiming a quiet table in the back corner. As you spread out your materials, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. The sound of approaching footsteps makes you look up, and there's Wonwoo, looking as put-together as always in a navy sweater and dark jeans. "Right on time," you say, trying to sound casual. He smiles, sliding into the chair next to you. "I'm nothing if not punctual. So, where should we start?" For the next hour, Wonwoo patiently guides you through problem after problem. His explanations are clear and concise, and you find yourself grasping concepts that had previously made you struggle. As you work through a particularly tricky equation, you can't help but notice how close he's leaning in, his shoulder nearly touching yours as he points out a crucial step. You catch a whiff of his cologne – a subtle, woodsy scent that's surprisingly appealing.

"See? It's all about breaking it down into smaller parts," he explains, his voice low and close to your ear. You nod, trying to focus on the numbers and not on the warmth radiating from his body. As the session progresses, you find yourself relaxing, even joking with Wonwoo about some of the more absurd word problems in your textbook. His dry sense of humor surprises and delights you, and you catch yourself laughing more than you have in weeks "You know," he says, leaning back in his chair, "you're not half bad at this when you actually focus." You feel a flutter of pride at his words. "Thanks," you say, smiling. "I guess I just needed the right teacher." Wonwoo's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you think you can see a spark of something behind his gaze. He clears his throat and glances at his watch. "We've been at this for almost two hours. Do you want to take a break?"

You nod, suddenly aware of how stiff your muscles feel from sitting hunched over your textbook. "Yeah, that sounds good.” Wonwoo smiles “Maybe we could grab a coffee? I know just the place," He says, standing up and stretching. You try not to stare as his sweater rides up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin above his waistband. You follow him out of the library and across campus to a small, cozy coffee shop tucked away in a corner you've never noticed before. As you step inside, the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans envelops you. The shop is dimly lit, with mismatched vintage furniture and local artwork adorning the walls. It's intimate and charming, nothing like the bustling campus coffee chains you usually frequent.

"This place is amazing," you say, taking it all in. "How have I never been here before?" Wonwoo smiles, a hint of pride in his eyes. "It's a bit of a hidden gem. I like to come here when I need to escape the chaos of campus life." You follow him to the counter, where a barista with long blonde hair greets Wonwoo by name. "The usual?" she asks, already reaching for a mug. "Please," he nods, then turns to you. "What would you like? Their lavender latte is excellent if you're feeling adventurous." "I'll try that then," you say, intrigued by his recommendation. As you reach for your wallet, Wonwoo waves you off. "My treat," he says. "Consider it payment for being such a good student today."

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his gesture. "Thank you," you say, touched by his kindness. You follow Wonwoo to a cozy corner booth, sinking into the plush velvet seats. The soft glow of Edison bulbs hanging overhead casts a warm light across his features, softening the sharp angles of his face. You notice  things about him you hadn't before. Like a small scar just above his left eyebrow, and the fact that is hair is not black but a very dark shade of brown. "So," you say, breaking the comfortable silence, "What made you decide to major in math? I mean, you're clearly good at it, but there must be a story there." Wonwoo looks at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's always just made sense to me, you know? There's a beauty in the logic of it all. Plus," he adds with a wry smile, "it impresses people at parties."

You laugh, surprised by his humor. "I can imagine. Though I have to admit, I've never been to a party where calculus was the main topic of conversation." Wonwoo's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Then you're clearly going to the wrong parties. What about you? What's your major?" "Psychology," you reply. "Interesting," Wonwoo muses. "So you're studying the complexities of the human mind while I'm dealing with the complexities of mathematics." You're struck by his observation, realizing there's more depth to Wonwoo than you initially thought.

As you talk, you find yourself opening up about your struggles with calculus, your fears of disappointing your parents. Wonwoo listens intently, his dark eyes focused on you. When you finish, he leans forward slightly. "I understand that pressure," he says softly. "It's not easy living up to others' expectations." There's a vulnerability in his voice that surprises you. For a moment, you see past the composed exterior to someone who might be struggling with his own doubts and insecurities. "How do you do it?" you ask. "How do you make it all look so effortless?" Wonwoo's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Trust me, it's not effortless. I just... I've learned to channel my anxiety into my work. But sometimes, I wonder if I'm missing out on other aspects of college life."

You're about to respond when the barista approaches with your drinks. She sets down two steaming mugs, the rich, floral scent of lavender rising from your cup. You give Wonwoo a quick glance, and he nods in thanks, offering a soft smile. "Here you go," the barista says before retreating behind the counter. You wrap your hands around the warm mug, feeling the heat seep into your palms, a comforting contrast to the coolness of the evening. "Thanks for the coffee," you say again, the warmth in your chest spreading. "This place really is great. Perfect for getting away from everything." Wonwoo nods, taking a slow sip from his own drink. He seems more relaxed here, away from the chaos of the main campus. "Yeah, it's one of my favorite spots. Feels like a little slice of calm." His eyes flicker to you briefly, an unreadable look in them before he shifts slightly in his seat, settling back.

For a few moments, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the ambient hum of the café filling the gaps between your conversation. You take a sip of your lavender latte, savoring the sweet, floral taste, feeling oddly at peace. "So," Wonwoo finally breaks the silence, his voice a little softer now. "You mentioned earlier that you're majoring in psychology. What made you choose that?" You think for a moment, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. "I guess I’ve always been curious about what makes people tick," you say. "Why we do the things we do, how we make decisions, how we deal with emotions... There's just so much to learn, you know? It feels like there's always something new to discover." Wonwoo listens, his gaze thoughtful, and you can tell he's really taking in your words. "It’s interesting," he murmurs, "how you’re trying to understand people while I’m trying to make sense of... numbers. There’s something kind of poetic about it."

You smile, surprised at how well he understands. "I guess we're not so different after all, huh?" He chuckles lightly, leaning back into his chair. "Seems like it." His eyes meet yours for a brief second, a spark of something flickering in them. "You know, I didn’t take you for a psych major, no offense. It's just the only thing I knew about you before tonight was that you partied a lot. You chuckle, a little embarrassed. “Yea, I guess I gave off that vibe before I got serious about school,” you admit, feeling a bit sheepish. “I always had a good time, but I’ve definitely been focusing more lately. Trying to get things back on track. Your parents threatening to pull you from school does that to you" Wonwoo nods in understanding, his expression thoughtful. "It's good that you're figuring things out. College can be a balancing act. But you seem like the kind of person who doesn’t give up easily. I think you’ll get there."

His words, simple but encouraging, make you feel a little lighter, like the weight of everything isn't so heavy anymore. "I hope so," you say, taking another sip of your latte. "Honestly, it’s nice to talk to someone who gets it. I feel like I’ve been caught up in my own head lately, especially with everything going on at home." Wonwoo's eyes soften at your words. "You don’t have to carry it all on your own, you know. It’s okay to lean on people." He pauses, then adds, almost as an afterthought, "And sometimes it’s okay to take a break too." You look at him, really look at him for the first time since you’ve sat down, and for the first time, you notice that there’s more to him than just the quiet, reserved guy who aces every class. There’s a quiet strength in him, a kind of stability that draws you in.

"Thanks, Wonwoo. I really appreciate everything," you say, your voice sincere. He smiles again, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, and for a second, you can’t help but feel a little spark of something more between the two of you. Something you can’t quite place but that feels strangely warm and comfortable. "Anytime," he replies, his voice low and steady. "And hey, don’t worry. You’ll figure out calculus. But if you ever need someone to talk to... about anything else, I’m here." You smile, feeling a little flutter of gratitude. "I think I just might take you up on that."

The two of you sit there for a while longer, enjoying your drinks and the quiet atmosphere of the café, talking about everything from school to silly memories to your favorite music. You realize how easy it is to talk to him, how comfortable you feel in his presence. And even though you’re still not sure what exactly is happening between you two, you can’t deny that something is starting to change.  As the night grows later, the cafe begins to empty out, and you both realize it's getting late. You stand up, gathering your things, and Wonwoo does the same. "Thanks for the coffee," you say again, a little reluctantly. "And for everything tonight. I feel like I actually get calculus now." You grin.

Wonwoo smirks, clearly pleased. "I’m glad I could help. Just don’t expect me to tutor you every night. I have my own assignments too." He says it with a teasing tone, but you can tell he’s enjoying this new dynamic between you. “I’ll take that as a challenge,” you reply, grinning back. "I hope you do." He replies as he opens the door for you. As you both step out into the cool night air, you feel a sense of warmth linger between you, something subtle but unmistakable. The evening was a nice break from the grind of school, but there’s also this growing sense that maybe, just maybe, you’ve stumbled upon something more than just a tutoring session.

As you walk together back to campus, the conversation flows easily, the chemistry between you two undeniable. Wonwoo’s witty remarks and insightful comments seem to draw you in further, and you can’t help but find yourself eagerly looking forward to the next time you’ll see him, even though you try to play it cool. “So, same time tomorrow?” you ask, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the excitement bubbling underneath. Wonwoo turns to you, a half-smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I think we can make that happen. But how about we meet at my dorm, I expect you to bring your A-game,” he teases, nudging you playfully with his shoulder “Deal,” you breath out.

The next day feels like it stretches on forever as you go through the motions of your classes, but your mind keeps drifting back to Wonwoo. The way he helped you the night before, the casual banter, and that lingering smile — it all replayed in your head in a loop. Something about him made everything seem easier, not just calculus, but the world in general. When evening finally rolls around, you find yourself feeling oddly nervous, though you try to brush it off as you gather your notes and make your way to his dorm. Your heart beats a little faster as you walk, the excitement of yesterday's conversation still fresh in your mind. 

As you approach the dorm, you see Wonwoo waiting outside, leaning casually against the brick wall, his arms crossed talking to Mingyu, the quarterback on the football team. He’s wearing a simple white tee shirt and gray sweatpants, his usual composed demeanor softer, somehow more approachable in this setting. When he sees you, he straightens up and gives you a smile that makes your stomach flutter, before dismissing himself from their conversation. You watch as Mingyu walks away as Wonwoo walks to you.

“Ready for round two?” he asks, a playful glint in his eye. You laugh, feeling the tension melt away. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.” You glance at his outfit. "Glad we chose casual attire today" you poke at him. He chuckles rubbing the back of his neck. "Yea I just got out of the shower, I was at the gym with Mingyu." You make your was up the flight of stairs. "I didn't realize you two were friends." You say as you follow him. "Yea we grew up together. He's the closest thing I have to a brother." As you step inside his dorm, it’s clear this isn’t your typical college living situation. The space is surprisingly neat and organized, with a few bookshelves lining the walls and a desk cluttered with notebooks and textbooks, but in a controlled way, as if it was a deliberate mess. There’s a sense of order to it, just like him. You hang up your sweater on the coat hook, take off your shoes, and take a seat on his bed. Wonwoo follows you into the room, his footsteps quiet on the carpeted floor. He grabs his textbook from his desk and then turns to face you. There’s a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he observes you settling in on his bed. 

“You sure look like you’re comfortable there?” he asks, his tone teasing but still warm. He walks over and climbs up on the bed with you, close to you. "Comfortable?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. You smirk, leaning back slightly on your hands. "Very. I figured if I’m going to suffer through calculus, I might as well do it in comfort." Wonwoo chuckles, shaking his head before sitting down beside you, placing the textbook between you both. "Alright, let’s get started then. No distractions this time." You nod, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that you’re sitting this close to him, the warmth of his body radiating next to you. You force yourself to focus as he starts explaining derivatives, his voice calm and patient.

The study session goes smoothly at first, but as the minutes tick by, you find yourself more aware of the way Wonwoo’s fingers move as he writes out equations, the slight crease in his brow when he’s thinking, the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he glances at you to check if you’re following along. At one point, you get stuck on a problem, groaning in frustration. "I swear, calculus was invented just to torture people." Wonwoo laughs, leaning in slightly as he looks over your work. "You're overcomplicating it. Look—" His hand brushes against yours as he reaches for your pencil, his touch brief but enough to send a tiny spark through you. You glance at him, and for a second, neither of you says anything. The air between you shifts, something unspoken lingering in the silence. He leans in slightly, eyes tracking your face. "It's all about perspective," he murmurs, his voice low and unexpectedly close. He's still holding your pencil, his fingers brushing against yours, and the simple act feels charged with an energy you can't quite explain. You can smell his cologne again, that same subtle, woodsy scent from the coffee shop, and it’s intoxicatingly distracting.

He doesn't pull away, and neither do you. The textbook lies forgotten between you, the complex equations blurring into meaningless symbols. His gaze flickers down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and you can see a flicker of something in the depths of his dark pupils – something that mirrors the nervous excitement fluttering in your chest. "You know," he says, his voice barely a whisper, "I never would have guessed you were so… focused." The word hangs in the air, loaded with a double meaning. You know he's not just talking about calculus anymore. "Focused?" you echo, your voice equally soft. He nods, his eyes still locked on yours. "Yeah. You seem… different than I expected." "Different how?" you ask, your heart pounding against your ribs. He hesitates for a moment, as if considering his words carefully. "More… intense. More… interesting."

A blush creeps up your neck, but you don't look away. You're mesmerized by him, by the way the light catches his glasses, by the slight furrow in his brow that suggests he's just as nervous as you are. "I could say the same about you," you reply, finally finding your voice. "I thought you were just… a genius. Turns out you're also… interesting." He chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Is that so?" You nod, unable to articulate the thoughts swirling through your head. You're acutely aware of the proximity of your bodies, the way your thighs are almost touching, the warmth radiating from him. The air crackles with unspoken tension, and you have the distinct feeling that something is about to change between you two.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Maybe… maybe we should take a break from calculus," he whispers, his eyes searching yours. You swallow hard, your pulse quickening. "A break?" He nods, his gaze dropping to your lips again. "Yea. A break." He doesn't need to say anything else. You know exactly what he means. The calculus book slips off the bed and falls to the floor with a soft thud, unnoticed by either of you. His hand reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. His touch is feather-light as it lingers in your hair, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs, his voice husky. You nod, your own voice lost somewhere in the sudden rush of adrenaline. "More than okay," you manage to say. That's all the confirmation he needs. His lips are soft when they meet yours, a tentative touch at first, as if he's testing the waters. But the kiss quickly deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate. His hand moves from your hair to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you instinctively reach up, your fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss grows more urgent, more heated, and before you know it, you’re lying back against his mattress, Wonwoo hovering over you. His glasses are slightly askew, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him like this—disheveled and undone because of you— sends a thrill through you.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, voice low, gaze searching yours. You nod, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. “Yes. I want this. I... I want you” He kisses you again, a searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You arch into him, your own hands exploring the contours of his back, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against yours. His lips trail down your jawline, his breath hot against your skin, and you can't help the small moan that escapes your lips as he nuzzles your neck, his teeth gently grazing your skin, and you gasp, clutching him tighter.

Your hands slide up under his shirt, your hands flat against the muscles of his back. It's not long before his mouth reaches the collar of your shirt. He pulls back, sitting on his knees as he looks down at you. "Can I take this off?" he asks breathlessly pulling on the bottom of your shirt. You eagerly shake your head yes "Please" you say. His hands make quick work of pulling your shirt off over your head, his hand coming down and sliding under your back. His hand gripping the clasp of your bra. "This too?" he ask's as his lips ghost over yours. You kiss him in response. His hand move quickly, undoing your bra before he pulls back from the kiss. 

He gently removes your bra, his eyes darkening with desire as they rake over your exposed skin. The cool air brushes against you, making you shiver with anticipation. He leans in, his lips finding your skin again. His hands roam over yourbody, his touch setting you on fire. You gasp as his teeth graze your neck, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. He pulls back slightly, his gaze intense as he takes in your flushed skin. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips as he presses himself against you, the evidence of his desire hard against your stomach. You moan softly, arching into him, wanting more.

Your hands gripping the hem of his shirt and tug. "Off" you say breathlessly. "As you wish" he says, pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his sculpted chest and abs. The evadence of those work outs with Mingyu. Your hands immediately explore the hard planes of his muscles, earning a low groan from him. He captures your lips again. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a hot, wet path to your collarbone. You arch your back, craving more contact. His hand slides down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You gasp at the intimate touch, your hips rising to meet him. His fingers find your core, already slick with desire. He groans your name, the sound sending a thrill through you.

He coats his fingers in your wetness before finding your clit. With deliberate strokes, his eyes locked on yours, watching your reactions. You writhe beneath him, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. "Please," you beg, your voice barely a whisper. He smirks, his touch becoming more insistent, pushing you closer to the edge. You grip the sheets, your body tensing as the pleasure builds. He leans down, his lips finding yours again, swallowing your moans as you shatter around him, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. He pulls back, his eyes dark with lust as he watches you come undone. He grips the top of your leggings, pulling down both them and your underwear in one swift motion till they are a heap on the floor.

 His hand moves lower, slipping two fingers inside you. You cry out at the sudden feeling, your walls clenching around him. He pumps his fingers slowly, curling them to hit that soft spot deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed, your hands gripping his sheets as he drives you wild. "More," you plead, your voice ragged. He slowly, adding a third finger and increasing the pace. The sound of your wetness fills the room, mingling with your moans and his groans. He leans down, capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently. The sensation of both pushes you over the edge again, your body convulsing as you come undone around his fingers.

He doesn't stop, continuing to thrust his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. Your vision blurs, pleasure coursing through you. He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his lips and tasting you. The sight sends a fresh wave of heat through you. He moves down your body, spreading your legs wide. His tongue replaces his fingers, licking and sucking your clit. You scream his name, your hands fisting in his hair as he drives you higher. His tongue lapping at your wet entrance,  his fingers gripping your thighs as he devours you.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with desire as he continues his assault on your senses. His tongue circles your clit, teasing and tormenting you. You can't hold back any longer, your body tensing as another orgasm crashes over you. He doesn't let up, not even when the tears start to flow. 

He finally pulls away, his lips slick with your arousal. He moves back up your body, his hard length pressing against your thigh. "How are you doing?" he ask's, concern shining in his eyes. "I need you to take then off now" you say as you push the waist of his sweats down his hips. He gives you a small chuckle before standing up and pulling his pants down. Your eyes widen at the site of his huge cock. This long and thick and has a head the prettiest shade of pink that currently is driping pre cum. He climbs baack ontop of you, pepering kisses along your skin till he meets your mouth again. 

You reach down, wrapping your hand around him and stroking slowly. He groans, breaking the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to regain control. But you're not done with him yet. You guide him to your entrance, "Please Wonwoo" you moan. With one smooth thrust, his cock is deep inside you. You let out a moan from deep in your throat as your eyes slam shut. He still's. "Hey, hey. Open your eyes  for me baby" he coos down at you. His hands pushing your hair out of the way, cupping your face. You peel your eyes open, finding his right above you. "Are you okay?" He ask's sweetly. Your chest filling with warmth. "Yea" you whisper out. "Do you want me to stop?" He starts to raise up on his arms. "NO" you say gripping onto his arms to stop him. "I just needed a minute to adjust. Your big Wonwoo" you watch as a blush creeps across his face, joined by a smile. 

"You are going to be the death of me aren't you" he laughs "And you will be for me if you dont move" you push your hips forward to get your point across, instantly regretting it as you feel him nudge inside of you. A moan slipping from both of your mouths. In response he starts to move his hips. Slow and cautious at first, but your sounds quickly spur him on. He picks up the pace, growing more confidant as he watches you chant his name with each thrust. Your hands gripping the sheets to keep yourself grounded as the coil in your stomach tightens. Wonwoo leans down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. "You feel so good," he whispers, his voice rough. His fingers lace with yours, pinning them beside your head as he thrusts into you. The room filled with the wet sounds of his hips meeting yours, your small gasps and moans and his grunts every time you tighten around him. 

"Wonwoo," you whimper, your back arching as the pleasure coils tighter inside you. He presses his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours as he murmurs, "I’ve got you, baby." His thrusts grow deeper, more deliberate, hitting that perfect spot. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, desperate to feel every inch of him. "You’re amazing," he breathes against your lips, his voice trembling as he fights to make this last. But the way you feel around him, it's unraveling his control. His free hand trails down your body, tracing over the curve of your waist before slipping between you, finding your clit and making  your breath hitch. He starts with tight pressured circles. "Wonwoo, I—" Your voice breaks as you're vaulted over the edge. Your wall tightening around him as you release all over his cock. His movements turning erratic as he chases his own release behind you, burying hims cock deep inside you as he shudders with pleasure. Spilling deep inside you. 

His body collapses onto of you, staying buried deep in you. He presses gentle kisses along your jaw, his touch now featherlight, a stark contrast to the intensity from moments ago. "You okay?" he murmurs, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your hip. You nod, a blissful smile stretching across your face. "More than okay." He chuckles softly, rolling onto his side and pulling you against his chest. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if afraid to let you go. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe, cherished. "I have something to tell you" he says as he kisses the top of your head. "okay" you say hesitantly, fear creeping into your mind at what it could be. 

"I have had a little crush on you for a long time now." He says voice just above a whisper. "But I'v been to scared to ever approach you. Afraid you wouldn't want to be with someone like me" Your breath catches at his confession, your heart squeezing in your chest. You pull back just enough to look up at him, your fingers tracing soft patterns over his chest. "Wonwoo," you whisper, his name a gentle reassurance on your lips.

His eyes flicker with vulnerability, a rare sight that makes your heart ache. "I didn't know how to approach you. You were always hanging out with the popular kids." he says "it felt like we were in two different worlds." You look up at him thinking back to just last week and you could see how that could be. "Well we're not anymore" you say kissing his chest. He laughs "Your right, so if I were to say ask you out on a date this weekend, your answer would be?"

You grin up at him, your fingers still tracing lazy circles against his skin. "I’d say yes," you murmur, watching as relief washes over his face, quickly replaced by the softest smile you've ever seen from him. "Yea?" he asks, as if he can’t quite believe it. You nod, tilting so your face is closer to his. "Yes, Wonwoo. A thousand times yes." you ghost your lips over his. His arms tighten around you, pulling you flush against him. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. It’s different from before. Less urgency, more depth. Like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way you fit against him. When he pulls back, his eyes shine with something deeper than just desire. "Guess I should start planning the perfect first date, then," he says with a soft chuckle.

You smile, nuzzling into his chest. "Yea I guess you should."

Dividers by @strangergraphics

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Asher: The first person I’m hiring is going to be a social media manager. The livestream will be fun, but keeping up on the rest is such a time suck. Atlas: I need real testers. Waiting for our friends to send me feedback and bug reports in their spare time is killing me.

Asher: Not exactly what I imagined our top priorities would be. Atlas: [chuckles] Me neither. Asher: It’s wild, though, people are actually starting to get excited, and we haven’t even announced the release date yet. If this game does as well as I think it will, we are gonna need to lease office space and hire a team.

Atlas: I know. It’s starting to feel very real, and I don’t know the first thing about running a business. Asher: Me neither. We’re gonna need to bring someone in that knows what they’re doing. Atlas: We’re going to need so many people. Especially if we’re going to be raising twins at the same time.

Asher: Jesus, we’re never gonna sleep again. Atlas: [laughing] What have we gotten ourselves into? Asher: [laughing] I don’t know. We’re so fucked.

Iris: Ash, will you come take a walk with me? Asher: I can’t, I’m busy.

Iris: You said you were taking the weekend off. Asher: We are, we’re just talking. Iris: Well, come on then, I need to talk to you. Asher: It’ll have to wait. I’m meeting Phoenix at the shelter, he’s already on his way.

Iris: You’re getting a dog? Asher: No, Phoenix is. I’m just helping. Iris: You’re delusional if you think you’ll be able to go to the shelter and not bring a dog home.

Atlas: That’s what I said. That’s why I’m going with him. Iris: Well, good luck to you. Just make sure Spencer knows it’s not staying here after you move. She’ll get attached. Asher: We’re not getting a dog.

Iris: Delusional!

Asher: [groans dramatically] I can’t take it anymore. We really need our own place. Atlas: I’m honestly surprised you broke first. Asher: I’m not. We need to move. Like, tomorrow.

Atlas: With what money? Asher: How much do you think I could get for a kidney? Atlas: [laughs] Asher: It’s not funny. I’m that desperate.

Atlas: I know what will make you feel better. Asher: What? Atlas: A dog.

Asher: [smiles] Don’t say that unless you mean it.

Atlas: Come on, let’s go.

[evenyvn]

award show shenanigan

rockstar!fem!reader x idol!seonghwa

cw : she/her for reader, sfw, reader being downbad for seonghwa (who doesn't?), reader is in a k-rock band and is playing the guitar, reader and seonghwa are dating. this is VERY self-indulgent so no beta read.

this is DEFINITELY inspired by that one jackson's reaction to jyp's and hwasa's performance on MAMA lmao.

You had always been used to the spotlight. As the lead guitarist of Lunar Eclipse, one of Korea’s rising star rock bands, you had a fair share of viral moments—most of them showcasing your electrifying performances and cool stage presence, some are funny clips from your livestreams or even variety shows. But lately, the internet seemed to love something else even more.

You and Park Seonghwa.

It had all started months ago when fans noticed your adorable on-stage interactions. From Seonghwa subtly headbanging during Lunar Eclipse’s set at a festival, to you singing along to Ateez’s songs when she thought no one was watching, the internet had gone wild.

Not to mentioned when Lunar Eclipse and Ateez were invited to do a variety show together, the show went popular just in few days, between your group's loudness combined with Ateez's chaotic energy, fans begin to notice the subtle interaction between you and Seonghwa.

From the way you share a few glance at each others, the subtle skinships when you both think no one is looking, but of course unfortunately for you both—the cameras that have been set on the studio caught all of them, making the fans go crazy.

Even before any of your agency officially confirmed your relationship, fans were already calling you the rockstar x prince couple. And when both of your agency finally announced that you both are dating, the reactions had been surprisingly and overwhelmingly positive—people absolutely adored you guys together.

Tonight, you aren't performing. Instead, you were one of the MCs for a major award show along side Myung Jaehyun from BOYNEXTDOOR, a new challenge for you but something you were excited to try.

The show was going smoothly between the amazing performances of multiple groups, Jaehyun have been an amazing mc partner, with his extroverted personality and positive energy makes you feel alot more comfortable and less nervous.

What you aren't prepared for, however, was how weak you would become watching your boyfriend on stage.

Ateez delivered a breathtaking performance, as expected. The crowd roared with excitement as they executed their intense choreography, their charisma filling the massive venue. But then came the ending fairy moment—something that had become a staple in K-pop performances.

The camera zoomed in on Seonghwa, his gaze piercing and smoldering as he stared straight into the lens. His plump lips curled into the faintest smirk, a sheen of sweat on his skin making him look even more ethereal. He tilted his head slightly, fingers brushing his jawline in a move so effortlessly seductive that the crowd erupted in cheers.

And unfortunately for you, the camera also zoomed in on your reaction.

your eyes widened in pure shock, jaw dropping, and breath hitching as you visibly struggled to keep your composure. A second later, your expression melted into something almost comically lovesick—your lips pressing together in a desperate attempt to suppress a smile, cheeks burning with undeniable affection. you quickly covered you mouth with the cue card on your hand, but it was far too late.

The internet had already seen it.

Within minutes, clips of your reaction flooded social media. Fans were losing their minds.

username_01

“NOT Y/N FALLING FOR HER OWN BOYFRIEND ON NATIONAL TELEVISION LMAO”

username_02

“She looked like she got hit by a truck named Park Seonghwa”

username_03

“ 'yo did i really bagged that baddie??' ahh reaction💀"

username_04

“This is the cutest thing ever, she’s literally all of us”

username_05

why is she staring at the camera like we did that to her on the last second lmao 💀

Hashtags like #YNLovestruck, #HwaEffect, and #PowerCoupleGoals trended within the hour. Even Ateez’s official account joined in on the fun, posting a blurry screenshot of your reaction with the caption: "Even the MC couldn’t resist… Who can blame her?"

On the backstage, as soon as the segment ended, you groaned dramatically, burying your face in your hands.

“I’m never living this down.”

A familiar chuckle made you peek through your fingers. Seonghwa stood before you, still slightly out of breath from performing, but his smile was soft and utterly amused. “I saw the clips already,” he teased, tilting his head. “You think I’m that stunning?”

you huffed, crossing your arms. “Please, you knew exactly what you were doing.”

He grinned, stepping closer to gently tap your chin. “Maybe. But I like seeing you flustered.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, your heart raced as your boyfriend steps closer to you. “Congrats,” you muttered, “now the entire internet knows I’m down bad for you.”

Seonghwa leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Well… lucky for you, I’m just as down bad for you.”

And just like that, your face burned even hotter.

The internet would definitely have a field day with this one.

devider by @/aquazero, likes and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

[baby-blue-skyy]

Too Sweet // R. Grimes (TWD) Part 3

Third part of: Too Sweet

Hi everyone! I hope you all are enjoying this little series. I have gotten a little more familiar with the layout, so I feel like I got the hang of it now lol. Part 4 will be posted soon, I am still finishing it up! Thank you all so much for the support.

Warning: age gap, hints of abuse, alcohol use

Summary: After arriving in Alexandria, Rick is still on high alert, uncertainty about the people who live within the walls of his new, unfamiliar home. But one person has caught his attention.

•••

Deanna’s party was a cacophony of voices and clinking glasses, a press of bodies so tight that the air itself seemed thick, heavy with a mixture of sweat, alcohol, and the faint scent of freshly cut flowers that had been placed in vases throughout the house. The walls, once pristine, were now decorated with the warmth of mingling people—locals and outsiders alike, all attempting to recreate a sense of normalcy in a world that had long forgotten it.

Rick had brought Carl and Judith with him, hoping that amidst the chaos, there could be something close to normal for them. They deserved a chance to feel safe, to feel the illusion of peace, if only for a moment. Carl, ever the vigilant protector, stuck close to his father, while Judith, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension, gurgled with a soft laugh, her innocent smile lighting up the room in ways no one else could.

Rick’s eyes swept over the crowd, taking in the faces, trying to gauge their intentions, to measure them against the harshness of the world he knew. His group—his people—were scattered throughout the room, attempting to blend in, to mingle with the Alexandrians, desperate to get a feel for them, to discern who could be trusted and who might just get them killed.

But Rick’s attention kept drifting. His chest felt tight, constricted by a pressure that was not physical but internal. Carol had disappeared, slipping away from the social hum of the party with practiced ease, her movements a silent warning to Rick. She was headed to the infirmary, and as much as he trusted her, as much as he knew the importance of securing their position, a flicker of unease began to gnaw at him. His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of danger, any prying eyes that might have noticed her absence.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm the erratic thud of his heart. He had to focus. He couldn’t afford to lose track of his surroundings. And yet, despite the overwhelming need to remain vigilant, his mind betrayed him. It pulled him toward something else.

Her.

Rick cursed himself inwardly. Pathetic. That’s what he was. His gaze moved through the crowd with a desperation that he could not contain, his eyes scanning every face, every body, searching, hoping—hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

She wasn’t here.

His heart sank as the realization hit him like a cold gust of wind. She wasn’t in the crowd, didn’t appear in any corner or by any window. The part of him that had been drawn to her like a moth to a flame was left unfulfilled, that small hope now slipping away like water through his fingers.

But there was someone else.

Rick’s eyes narrowed. Josh. The obnoxious, overconfident man who had somehow wormed his way into their lives. The sight of him standing in the corner, nursing a bottle of beer with a look of utter detachment, made Rick’s skin crawl. The contrast was glaring. Josh was a man who always had to be the center of attention, the life of every room he entered, yet here he was, abandoned in the sea of guests, his presence somehow more pronounced in his isolation.

The thought struck Rick like a hard jab to the gut. Josh doesn’t like those kinds of things. Daisy’s voice echoed in his mind, as clear as if she were standing right next to him. And yet, here he was, standing by himself, pretending to enjoy the party in a way that seemed too deliberate, too calculated.

Something felt wrong.

Rick’s eyes lingered on Josh, watching him as he sipped his beer, his laughter forced, his words louder than they needed to be. There was something about the way he moved—something offbeat, almost like he was trying to draw attention, yet at the same time trying to seem indifferent to the whole affair. He looked like a man trying to prove something, to convince the world—and maybe himself—that he was fine, that he fit in. But Rick wasn’t fooled.

Rick’s fingers tightened around the glass he was holding. The room seemed to constrict around him, the noise, the laughter, the chatter becoming a background hum that only seemed to make the pressure in his chest worse.

Get a grip, Rick told himself, his mind shouting to regain control. She’s none of your business. The words echoed in his head like a mantra, a reminder to steer his thoughts away from the distraction that Daisy had become. But no matter how hard he tried to focus, to steady his pulse, there was an undeniable weight to the air between him and her, a tether he couldn’t cut.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to clear it. His fingers tightening around his glass—Jessie’s words falling short in his ear.

As the evening stretched into the night, the crowd slowly began to thin out. Families made their way home, ready to crawl into their beds and sleep, as the party began to lose its energy. The soft chatter and clinking glasses died down to murmurs, and the air seemed to cool with the passing of time.

Rick clutched Judith’s small, sleeping form in his arms as he and Carl made their way out of the house, heading home. The street was quieter now, the soft echo of their boots the only sound accompanying them.

Rick couldn’t help it. His eyes drifted toward her house.

It was dark. No light flickered from the windows, indicating that she, too, had gone to sleep for the night. It felt odd, somehow. Rick wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he had been thinking about her all night, unable to shake the strange feeling she gave him.

The peaceful silence of the neighborhood was interrupted by the sudden sound of glass breaking, sharp and jarring in the stillness of the night. Rick’s gaze snapped toward the noise, landing on the figure of Josh, stumbling drunkenly down the street, a broken liquor bottle lying at his feet.

Rick sighed, a little frustrated, but more than that, exhausted.

Carl looked over at Rick, his eyes focused on the messy, intoxicated figure. “Dad…” Carl started, his voice low.

Rick hesitated, the guilt tugging at him for a moment. He didn’t want to deal with this. But he knew he had to. Not for Josh’s sake, but because the man was a danger to himself, stumbling around like this.

“Take Judith,” Rick said, shifting the sleeping child into Carl’s arms. “Let me help get him off the street.”

Carl nodded, adjusting Judith’s weight. He followed Rick’s lead, looking at the man with concern.

Rick turned back toward Josh, who was swaying like a tree in the wind. His instincts kicked in. He moved swiftly, grabbed Josh’s arm, and began steering him down the street, toward her house.

“No one talks to me, man,” Josh muttered, his words thick with alcohol. “They jus’… they jus’ avoid me. You know?” He hiccupped, his eyes unfocused. “But they all t-talk to Daisy…”

Rick’s jaw tightened at the mention of Daisy. They climbed the steps together, Josh’s feet dragging with each movement, barely able to keep himself upright. Rick knocked on the door, his knuckles tapping gently, though his mind felt anything but calm.

“They all… all like her,” Josh spat, his breath heavy with the stench of liquor. “She’s got… that… that way about her. Everyone likes Daisy. But me? Nah, they just… they jus’ ignore me… ‘less I’m with her.”

Rick’s blood boiled at the words, the resentment in Josh’s voice striking a raw nerve. He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to hold himself together as Josh continued, clearly unaware of the effect his words were having.

“Daisy…” Josh went on, his words slurring more and more as he stumbled along, “…she’s-“ his word died short, ricks word cutting through sharply.

“Enough,” Rick growled, his voice tight with restraint. “That’s enough.”

The minutes stretched out as he waited, and for some reason, Rick felt a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t explain. Why was he nervous? His jaw tightened, and he glanced at the drunken man beside him.

The silence was broken by the soft creak of stairs inside. Then, the door swung open, and there she was.

The moonlight spilled down, casting a soft, ethereal glow over Daisy’s features, highlighting the exhaustion in her eyes. She looked tired, disheveled even, but still… breathtaking. She stood there in loose joggers and an oversized sweatshirt, her hair messy and falling into her face.

Rick’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t look away. Even like this, with her sleep-heavy eyes and messy appearance, she still made his heart race.

“Rick?” Her voice was tired, but there was a soft surprise in it that made his pulse quicken.

She blinked, and her gaze flickered to Josh, the anger or frustration—something unreadable—flashed in her eyes before it disappeared behind a mask of calm.

“What’s going on?”

Rick cleared his throat, struggling to keep his voice steady. “He’s had too much to drink. I’m just… I’m just getting him home.”

“Oh god,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair, her frustration evident on her tired features. “If you can bring him in, he can sleep on the couch.”

Rick nodded wordlessly, stepping into the house and helping Josh inside. The moment he did, the familiar scent of vanilla, maybe mixed with something else, wrapped around him. It was oddly comforting, and it sent a strange chill up his spine.

Rick lowered Josh onto the couch, the man barely conscious, before turning to leave. As he made his way back toward the door, he heard Daisy’s footsteps behind him.

She was close now, too close. Rick felt his muscles tense as she neared him, her proximity disorienting. He stepped out into the cool night air, feeling the weight of her presence lingering in the space between them.

Daisy gave him a soft, tired smile. “Thank you,” she said, her voice gentle, almost like a whisper.

Rick swallowed hard, the words caught in his throat. “Didn’t see you at the party,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

The moonlight highlighted the sharpness of her features, her lips, her eyes. Rick couldn’t help but notice the faint bruise on her bottom lip. His eyes lingered there for a moment too long, his fingers twitching at his sides.

Her smile had dropped slightly. “I got busy,” she breathed out, running a hand through her hair. “Time got away from me.”

Rick nodded, though he didn’t quite believe her. There was something in her voice that didn’t sit right. But he didn’t press. Instead, he found himself backing up, stepping away from her, but not quite wanting to leave.

Daisy shifted on her feet, crossing her arms over her chest, her gaze dropping to the ground before returning to him. “He doesn’t normally drink like this,” she said, her voice quiet, like she was trying to make sense of it herself. “He… he’s been under a lot of pressure lately.”

Rick barely heard her. His eyes kept drifting back to her lip. The way her words didn’t quite add up. The way she avoided his gaze when she spoke.

Before he could stop himself, the question tumbled out. “What happened to your lip?” His finger pointed toward her injury—his head tilting to the side. His words felt heavy, like he already knew the answer.

Daisy stiffened for a moment, the mask of calm cracking slightly. But then she relaxed, the tension draining from her body as she leaned against the doorframe. A soft laugh bubbled from her lips. “Toddlers,” she said with a shake of her head. “They’re rough.”

Rick’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer. She was a damn good liar. He could see that now, and something in him churned uncomfortably at the thought.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, he just looked around the porch, feeling the cool air of the summer night wash over him as he took a deep breath.

He was prepared to leave, but there she was, standing right before him with those wide eyes.

Daisy stepped closer, her movements slow and graceful, almost as if she was aware of the tension in the air. Rick’s breath caught in his throat, shifting on his feet—meeting her gaze just as she came to a stop in front of him. Her eyes were warm, tired, but soft. The moonlight brushed against her features, and she looked nothing short of stunning. Even in that moment, so simple and raw, she managed to stir something in the pit of his belly.

Without a word, Daisy reached up, and before Rick could even process what was happening, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It was innocent—nothing more than a polite thank you for his help, but Rick felt the touch like a spark, a current that traveled through his skin and down to his very core. It was brief, too quick to be anything more, but it was enough to leave him reeling, disoriented, and desperate for something that wasn’t going to come.

Rick’s pulse thudded in his chest, his body tense, his mind spinning in a blur of emotions. He didn’t know why this innocent gesture was hitting him so hard. It was just a kiss on the cheek. That was all.

But the way her lips had touched his skin—the softness of it, the warmth that lingered—made everything inside him ache in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He wanted more. He wanted to pull her close, kiss her, feel her hands in his. But he knew he couldn’t. Not like this.

Daisy stepped back, smiling softly at him. “Goodnight, Rick,” she said, her voice gentle, as if nothing at all had changed. It was casual. Simple. Sweet.

But Rick couldn’t breathe. He stood there for a moment, his hand instinctively going to his cheek, as if trying to keep her touch with him, as if it was something he could hold onto. The warmth she left behind was intoxicating, and he couldn’t shake it. He didn’t want to.

Daisy turned away, retreating back into her home with a final glance over her shoulder, leaving Rick standing in the darkness, a wreck of conflicting emotions. The night felt warmer now, the air heavier.

He stood frozen, still feeling the soft press of her lips on his skin. His heart pounded in his chest, and a dull ache settled in his chest that he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just a kiss—it wasn’t just that.

It was her.

And for a brief, painful moment, Rick let himself imagine what it would feel like to be with her—really with her, not in the way he had with anyone else in this world.

But he wasn’t sure if it was something he could ever have, and he hated himself for even letting his thoughts drift that way. He took a shaky breath, then finally turned and walked away, unable to stop the feeling of her touch, the memory of her kiss, from following him through the night.

[seventeenlovesthree]

Madoka Magica Ship Analysis - HomuMado

Based on these two polls [X] [X], I will write an analysis that'll also include how I feel about the ship (similarly to my Digimon shipping game analysis posts).

Disclaimer: I won't claim this to be a conclusive/definitive analysis of all of the ship's aspects. I have watched the original 12-episode-series and movies (including Rebellion), the Magia Record anime and I've read several manga series (the Original, The Different Story, Wraith Arc, Rebellion Story, Oriko Magica, Another Story, Mitakihara Anti-Materials). But I'm aware that I haven't seen/read all of what's out there and am also not thoroughly familiar with the games. Plus, oftentimes, ship dynamics vary depending on which series/timeline you are looking at. I'm fairly certain that thousands of words must have been written about this ship already, better and more elaborate than I probably ever could - so this is going to be my personal take on it.

Whether canon provides input on them or not.

As the main faces, characters (and ship) of the entire franchise, it's absolutely impossible to watch/read/play the series without taking note of Madoka Kaname, Homura Akemi and their dynamic. Their characters, arcs and development are irrevocably connected with one another - no pun intended (yet) - and without them, we wouldn't even have a story to talk about to begin with. But let's start at the beginning, shall we.

On one hand, we have Homura - who initially started off as a shy and timid girl, prone to sickness and ridden by insecurities. Presumably raised as an orphan at a government-funded orphanage, she struggles to find her way, fitting in at school, keeping up, making friends and socializing in general - thus she becomes an easy target for corruption (we shall keep this in mind for later) and is almost being dragged into suicidal tendencies by a Witch... If it wasn't for the pink-haired Magical Girl (and her senpai) who is going to rescue her - and Homura has no idea yet that she'll end up committing her entire life and purpose to her soon after.

Madoka initially starts off as not considering herself to be anything special - but is still determined to do good as a Magical Girl, she appears to be straight-forward yet kind, gentle and welcoming... Especially towards Homura. So - is it really surprising that Homura, timid, insecure, lonely Homura, would end up thoroughly enchanted by Madoka? The first real friend she must have had in ages? The person who smiled at her, reached out and encouraged her in her pure, innocent ways? Absolutely not, it's highly relatable, endearing... And thus, it shall be even less surprising to see Homura not wanting to lose her again. The feeling of being wanted, appreciated - of not being alone anymore.

After watching Madoka sacrificing herself, ending up killed by Walpurgisnacht in the original timeline, Homura makes her wish to become a Magical Girl herself - not just to meet Madoka again, but to be the one to rescue her this time. What appears to be a wish of determined, unexpectedly confident heroism at first will, just like every other wish, turn out to be a multi-layered mess of human complexity. An underlying desire born from affection - that will eventually turn into something deeper, desperation, obsession, whatever you may want to call it.

Homura lives through countless timelines, repeating the same month over and over again to save Madoka, discovering the fate of Magical Girls to become Witches eventually along the way, becoming more and more skilled at weaponry combat... At some point, she was already perfectly ready to become a witch alongside Madoka, as long as they're together, destroying the entire world - but is held back by Madoka's wish to prevent her from falling for Kyubey. And thus, Homura thoroughly hyperfocuses on her personal mission, so she won't lose the last bit of hope, no matter how bleak the situation may be. However, in the process, she is growing more and more distant, not only from Madoka and their fellow magical girls, but also from herself. Hardened by the experiences, she develops a cool facade and a stoic attitude, swallowing and locking away emotional attachment to anything and anyone that is not Madoka in order to reach her goal.

With every timeline resetted, more karmic energy revolves around Madoka - but with Homura's wish revolving around saving her, she also becomes increasingly more timid, reserved and insecure each time(line). While her general stance on Homura is still mainly the same - finding her, her look and name cute/pretty -, their ability to relate to one another dwindles with every reset. Homura's attempts at reaching Madoka, as desperate as they may appear, rather scare and alienate Madoka - who cannot possibly understand what she has been going through, the time she had spent, the absolute commitment...

Until Madoka eventually makes her own wish to honour all of Homura's achievements - until she wishes for witches to never have existed and, enabled by all the karmic energy, she becomes a literal Goddess in the process, the Law of Cycles to keep magical girls from despairing, creating an entirely new universe... One in which she has never existed as a human, but only as a concept. Selflessly wishing for everybody's happiness - whereas Homura wishes she didn't. While Madoka thanks her for all she had done for her sake, giving her her red hair ribbons as memory for safekeeping, Homura cannot fully accept this new reality. She does fight on at first, honouring Madoka's wish within a world that has Wraiths instead of Witches, determined to defy anyone and anything that shall threaten her legacy... But this state isn't meant to last.

The long twintail-braids shy, timid Homura used to wear alongside her glasses, mirroring Madoka's red-ribboned twintails as a symbol of innocence, are merely a memory of who Homura Akemi is going to become. For the sake of her initial wish, for the sake of devotion and love that have turned into an obsession that doesn't allow much deviation. And her will to keep living in Madoka's universe is fragile - as she has to overcome temptation in the shape of shape-shifting Wraiths, showing her her beloved Madoka once more - just for example.

And eventually, despair takes over: Trapped within a Witches barrier inside of Homura's own Soul Gem, a world has formed that technically would have granted her biggest wish - a world in which Madoka exists happily alongside her and her/their friends, fighting together, living a peaceful life... But this world is just a facade as well, meant to lure the Goddess into a trap to regain power over the old Witch System of an alternate reality. And Homura, whose hair can never be turned back into braids again, who has lost her way and purpose, turned into a Witch and is ready to sacrifice herself if it means keeping Madoka safe once more. But even as she is, once again, mercifully saved by Madoka in the end in return in another act of selflessness - Homura's initial wish takes over. To be the one to save Madoka - in Homura's sense, means to stop her from being selfless for once, giving her the chance to live a normal life in another fake reality. It's Homura's, presumably, selfish desire in contrast to Madoka's - as they have truly become opposites in every single way. In order to fulfill her wish and become Madoka's sanctuary - even against her will -, she became a Devil to defy the Goddess' universe, following a corrupted form of love once born from the wish to protect the one most important to her. To maintain the image of Madoka she had formed in her head, regardless of whether that is what Madoka has eventually become and wished for by herself. And thus, she cannot wear Madoka's red ribbon, the sign of her legacy and innocence, anymore. A black dress and red eyes now have to face a white dress and golden eyes. The braids cannot return... At least not for now.

... Too long, didn't read: There is A LOT to work with, you already know all of this and yet, I am pretty sure I haven't been able to capture every aspect of them.

Whether I think why and how they’d work.

As mentioned, depending on timeline, universe, state of progression, their dynamic tends to be WILDLY DIFFERENT. You can take Moemura/Shy!Homura and OG!Madoka, you can take Cool!Homura and Anime!Madoka (and their various states in between), you can take EndofAnime!Homura and Madokami, you can take Rebellion!Homura and Rebellion!Madoka, Homucifer and Madokami and you can take Homucifer and FakeWorld!Madoka... The possibilities are ENDLESS (especially when you also include the more comedic-leaning portrayals in spin-off mangas like Homura Tamura).

The good part about this is - you can basically pick your poison, you can make this dynamic as wholesome or as toxic as you desire your own personal brand of Yuri to be. Which is, in my opinion, one of the aspects that make Madoka Magica and HomuMado in general so unbelievably intriguing.

Let's start with the toxic side of things, because I would argue that this is where Rebellion left us hanging and where Walpurgisnacht Rising might continue (at first): Homura's wish and her mingling created a very idealized version of Madoka in her head that she wishes to protect and maintain. Her initial thankfulness and endearment towards the kind, strong Madoka in the original timeline have basically been replaced by her unshaken desire to SAVE her. She has to be the one who (selfishly?) stops her from being selfless, she has to be the one to shield and protect her from any harm, keeping her locked in a precious glass bowl preferably nobody else can mess with. The problem here is that this version of Homura (which is basically Homucifer, but also several stages of her before that) cannot accept any other reading of reality than her own. Yes, in an ideal world, she could have allowed Madokami to finally take her away to exist with her in lesbian heaven for the rest of eternity - but that was not what Homura had wished for. And also probably not what Homura thought she deserved after everything she had done. In a way, having her turn into Homucifer was also some kind of self-chosen punishment as a "sinner"...

And Madoka, honestly speaking, probably had a very idealized version of Homura in her head as well. I'm not just talking about Rebellion!Madoka (or FakeReality!Madoka for that matter), whose memories had been tampered with, but also Madokami - who claimed to have seen all that Homura had done for her, in all timelines and realities... But apparently, she hadn't noticed her state of mind, her being so close to despairing and snapping because she just couldn't take this universe. That she couldn't let Mami or Kyouko in, no matter how hard they tried. She still felt alienated from them and lonely, thus she always reverted back to her initial goal, as she simply didn't belong into this universe. It kinda leads me to believe that it may be impossible for even Madokami to see Homura as anything other than the braided girl from the very beginning, her "best friend" from the original timeline.

Long story short - these two need to actually TALK for once. Getting to know their REAL CURRENT selves in whatever state or timeline that may be. Seriously, letting Madokami and Homucifer have a verbal conversation about all these misconceptions and misunderstandings about each other, talking about needs and desires and BOUNDARIES in a meta-kinda-way would be incredibly satisfying to watch. (And I am pretty sure, such scenarios exist in both fanfiction and doujins, but I haven't found them yet!)

Personally, I also highly enjoy the dynamic between Moemura and OG!Madoka - even after a few timelines have passed, as it has been depicted in the second season of the Magia Record anime. It gave me the impression that Homura had already gained a little bit of confidence and Madoka was still hands-on enough for them to be on a similar wavelength - which makes their dynamic among the healthiest in the entire franchise and gives them a lot of opportunities to bond and develop. For Homura to form a proper sense of self, encouraged by but not entirely dependent on Madoka. Actually, this version is also incredibly close to the Rebellion dream versions of Homura and Madoka - which, unsurprisingly, also is one of the most peaceful versions of them, having them sit together in a flower field, talking for hours about actual things. However, this Homura is still hyperfocusing on Madoka here - and it may not even have been her 100% authentic self, since her memories had been influenced by Homura's vision of her.

However, you have to allow them to talk and actually get to know each other and their flaws, let them banter and tease... Let Homura see and learn to accept undesirable aspects of Madoka - and let Madoka shout back at her if necessary. Deep down inside, they both adore and admire each other - which is why they were compatible in the original timeline in the first place. Homura admired Madoka for her strength, whereas Madoka admired Homura for her coolness. And they absolutely have the potential to help the other to become their best selves. But they need to see each other for who they really are and thus have to abandon codependent tendencies for it to work; Homura has to accept that Madoka is her own person who doesn't need to be overprotected - and Madoka has to accept that she cannot "save" Homura just by herself, but that she may encourage her to get therapy to deal with her self-image first. Let Homura understand that "love" also means to let go. Let her see that different people define "love" differently as well and that you have to understand how your significant other loves to love them back right.

Whether I’d prefer them as platonic or romantic ship.

When I had watched Madoka Magica for the first time approximately 10 years ago, I was positively - and obviously - in love with this ship and its potential. I adored Rebellion for how tragically it portrayed it - and again, I'm not even sure if I did them justice in comparison to everyone who wrote about them before me. As outlined above, it has various layers to pay attention to and I absolutely cannot wait to see how Walpurgisnacht Rising will add to my initial analysis of them. Because their dynamic WILL change, there is no denying.

Even after all this time, I still (want to) see the romantic potential between them. They may not be my favourite Madoka Magica ship anymore, but I still rate them very highly due to their complexity, my own nostalgia and hopefulness - although I'm aware that I would ship them in very idealized ways myself that are self-indulgently peaceful (and required a lot of therapy). As much as I want to see them get a happy end one way or another - I am currently very invested in exploring Madoka's and Homura's polycule potential dynamics with the other members of the Magica Quintet and am looking forward to writing more ship analysis posts soon!

[genderqueerdykes]

Sorry if this is hard to read in advance, I am not doing well. Something I’ve realized is that I hate being in bigger queer communities because I’m a “weird queer,” or one of those “queers that’s getting us killed,” or that I’m not “queer enough.” I feel like I’m not allowed to use my neopronouns, my titles, my names, that I’m not allowed to identify with my xenogenders, that I’m not allowed to be m-spec, that I’m not allowed to have a fluctuating or fluid queer identity unless I’m the “normal one,” that I cannot express being nonhuman as part of my queer identity. I am not allowed to express myself the way I see myself in bigger queer communities, I am not allowed to express how me being intersex affects my queer identities without being told “that’s not how it works”, I am not allowed to mention how plurality and other neurodivergence’s affect my identity, I am not allowed to be aromantic or asexual either. I don’t feel like I’m allowed to be me. I have felt pushed into boxes so much it hurts.

I thought that our community was meant to push the binaries and to be your authentic self.

i'm so sorry you're going through this, but you're not alone, i hear this exact experience so often. i hate how many people are treating each other this way

I thought that our community was meant to push the binaries and to be your authentic self.

that's what it's supposed to be, you're right. the push to be "normal queers" is so strong right now because it's been slowly building up over decades. assimilationism became a big deal in the late 80s, 90s, and 2000s. a lot of queers desperately wanted to just blend into cishet society and felt other queers needed to do so. people desperately want to be seen as queer but then not. people want to identify as trans and what not but then never allow other people to push the boundaries and feel like they have to present act and look cis in order to be seen as legitimate

it sucks. people prioritize passing and sucking up to cishet society over than being ourselves. you're allowed to do all of these things. you're allowed to get freaky with it. you're allowed to define your identity how you see fit. this push to look and act "normal" is so old. it's getting worse with social media. it's taking over people's minds and it sucks. we've been here for the weird queers from the start.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

I gotta know how few neurotypicals do we have here it can't be that many

Undertale Sans - He has autism. It's not easy to tell, but put him in a room full of very loud people and you will see him show signs of getting wildly overwhelmed. He's also very obviously depressed, even though it's getting better and better now that he's on the Surface and finally got the help he desperately needed. Sans also has narcolepsy, and probably sleep apnea, which is why he looks so damn tired all the time despite sleeping all the time.

Undertale Papyrus - He has autism and ADHD! It's not fun every day but he's the King of finding ways to compensate for the bad sides (and by that I mean he hides everything until he can't and then goes to have a mental breakdown in his closet which exhausts him so much he has to sleep for twenty hours to recover :D Very sane way of compensating!). Papyrus is still learning to accept he doesn't think and act like everyone and that it can sometimes weird people out, or overwhelm people. But it's getting better.

Underswap Sans - He has ADHD as well. He is hyperactive physically and mentally. He can't focus on anything, he lives for the dopamine and he needs to have something to do all the time or he gets very frustrated and even angry in certain cases. On the bad days, he struggles a lot and can cry out of frustration of not being able to do anything. He has pills to help since he's on the Surface, which helped a lot and helped him to gain better control over his feelings.

Underswap Papyrus - He's born with hyperempathy, which is a rare soul trait. Basically, he's a sponge and is more vulnerable to people's feelings around him. He can sense them and even have an impact on them if he really focuses hard. But that means he's also very vulnerable to all of them, which can create mood swings when he's tired or not focus enough. That's mainly why he had depression Underground, as everyone was sour and angry, and it affected him a lot. Honey is lonely mainly because of that. Even if he's good at controlling it better with age, he struggles a lot in crowds and public spaces. Added to that, he has deep social anxiety and a fainting condition that's poisoning his life.

Underfell Sans - He has depression, but that's pretty much it. Red is struggling a lot with it, as it's hard sometimes to not consider himself worthless in a world where everyone thinks you are.

Underfell Papyrus - He has autism too. Edge isn't aware he is autistic, but it's so obvious to everyone else. He always struggled with making friends, he has a hyperfocus on war strategy to the point it's scary how good he is and he has autistic meltdowns regularly when things are not going how he planned them. Edge has tendencies to depression as well, even if it tends to get better over time.

Horrortale Sans - He has so many things it's hard to keep the count. He's autistic, he is depressed, he has narcolepsy like Sans, but he also has all of his memory problems, he gets extremely overwhelmed in a crowd, and he struggles to do anything because sometimes it's just not working. He also has something similar to the sundown syndrome, when he can randomly get aggressive, being agitated, confused, anxious, or lost for no apparent reason, around sunset. It can be dangerous for everyone, Willow usually locks him in his room when it happens. Everything they tried to stop it didn't stop it entirely, but they're still trying. Oak also has PTSD of Undyne's attack and all the bad things he did Underground.

Horrortale Papyrus - He has autism and ADHD, being Papyrus but older, but added to that, he has severe depression and generalized anxiety. The depression is slowly getting healed with all of his health problems, but it seems the anxiety is here to stay. He struggles mainly with how he looks, to the point he completely dissociated and doesn't call himself Papyrus anymore, and what he has to do Underground to survive. Like Oak, he has PTSD from what happened, which is triggered by seeing blood or injured people. It's completely paralyzing him when it happens and it's hard to snap him out of it.

Swapfell Sans - Nox has severe depression and unlike the others, it got worse and worse after he reached the Surface. Everyone including him knows the cause of it is Toriel, but she's holding him in her grasp and won't let go easily. Nox knows what he has to do to get better, but that's not that easy to do. He has a tendency to dissociate too when he's killing people. That's a secondary effect of his very high level of violence, and it's mostly never going away as well.

Swapfell Papyrus - He has severe depression as well but treats it like it's all a morbid joke, which is worrying. However, he's going regularly in therapy and he is definitely getting better and better, even though he doesn't always take care of himself. Rus managed to escape his Underground's alcohol and drug addictions with therapy, which definitely helped him to get better.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Wine has a photographic memory and a great sense of deduction. That's why he is so dangerous because he remembers everything and uses what he finds to make things go his way. He clearly also lacks empathy, but that's caused by his very high level of violence.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Coffee has autism, duh, and generalized anxiety. Getting wrapped in a bubble his entire childhood clearly didn't help dealing with it, and it got worse when he got out of the Underground, as Coffee pretty much knew nothing of the outside world and got scared of everything. But he's starting to learn how to deal with everything, now that he has access to the internet. Coffee is a selective mute as well, which goes with his anxiety. Sometimes he gets so scared he can't talk at all. He knows how to sign and feels more comfortable signing with people he doesn't know by the way.

[applestorms]

i don’t think people give ciel nearly enough credit when it comes to his emotional intelligence/how self-aware he is.

like, yeah— ciel is a brat, he’s a stuck up little privileged rich kid, he’s pampered and spoiled and struggles massively when he’s forced to live without the luxuries he’s always grown up with. but he also recognizes that, in a way that is actually quite mature for someone of his age and class. he’s cynical, he’s pessimistic, he has incredible little (if any) respect or hope for humanity left— but this is something he applies to himself and the others at his same social standing just as much as anyone else, if not more. he clearly connects and empathizes with finny (and honestly all of his servants) because he sees himself within him, trusting him like a (his) brother during the emerald witch arc. he understands where joker is coming from with regards to his desperation to take care of his family and doesn’t pass judgement on him, to the point of even planning to take care of the very family he thought he’d left behind after joker dies. he even seems to have some degree of genuine respect for lizzie, assuaging her insecurities by trying to see her for who she is and not who she wants to be or feels like she must be.

honestly, i think that in most of the cases where ciel is being a full on Brat™ it all goes back to one thing— ciel trying to asset his Power, and take back control over the situation.

ciel is a character who is very very very easily underestimated at first glance by most people who have just met him, and even a few people who know him longer than that. he’s literally a sickly victorian child with asthma and CPTSD-motivated panic attacks, the kid is frail as fuck, not to mention— a kid. the fact that ciel might have something of an inferiority complex is obvious enough even if you don’t bring the whole lesser-twin thing into it, his minute stature is something literally every fucking character brings up upon first meeting him.

sometimes, ciel can use this to his advantage, so he does. he puts on the cute little boy face and flutters his eyelashes and uses other peoples’ empathy against them to achieve his own goals (see: arthur, and also like the entire public school arc, etc.).

most of the time though, ciel doesn’t really want to do this, not only because it’s somewhat demeaning but also because he Does have a reputation to uphold. ciel needs to constantly be both on guard and on the attack for his job as the queen’s watchdog, he is basically obligated to constantly stand as the biggest threat in the underworld. much of ciel’s Brat behavior to other people comes down to this— him asserting his status, not really out of any pride for the title, but because he is a Threat and other people need to fucking know it. sometimes, this means shoving his (and sebastian’s) power in their face until they get the fucking picture and/or die trying to understand it, particularly in the case of more asshole-ish characters like all the random evil businessmen with criminal agendas that ciel puts through the evil haunted demon house schtick. other times, this manifests more in the form of a kind of genuine empathy— you Should get the fuck away if you actually care about the things you claim to care about cuz i will not hold back, etc.

speaking of— in the case of sebastian specifically, the fact that this is ciel’s desire to take back agency becomes even more clear.

sebastian and ciel’s dynamic is one of, if not the most compelling aspects of this series to me, in large part because of how goddamn codependent they are while simultaneously being inherently at odds with one another. this series Will end with sebastian eating ciel’s goddamned soul— i honestly think that even if the rest of the cast eventually becomes more aware of the specifics of sebastian’s demonic nature or their contract, ciel himself will stop them from trying to save him or break the deal somehow, and sebastian himself certainly doesn’t have nearly enough of an attachment to humanity as a whole to bother actually stopping himself from chowing down, even if he may regret it somewhat more than he expected afterwards. yet at the same time, right up until we reach that exact point, they have every reason to need and want to collaborate with each other— something that they do, even if it is with full knowledge of the exact sword hanging over their heads the entire time that they’re playing nice.

i really love the analysis from this post, which points out the fact that all of the three core rules ciel establishes for their contract are perfectly designed to turn sebastian into someone that ciel can trust. highly recommend reading that essay, but to elaborate a bit more in my own words— ciel knows that sebastian is going to eat him one day. he is incredibly physically fragile and aware of this, perhaps even aware of the ways in which he has been made mentally weak due to his traumas, and especially of the fact that he is vulnerable specifically in comparison to sebastian. every single time that sebastian saves ciel, it is another reminder that This is who ciel is going to die to. he is chained to this starving, rabid monster just as much as the monster is chained to him, and one day, those roles are going to flip. he’s not going to be in power forever, and he knows it.

therefore: when ciel is a Brat™ at sebastian specifically, i read this less as ciel actually being unaware/childish/stupid/etc., and more as ciel tugging on the proverbial chain to make sure he is still the one pulling the strings. ciel has a habit of emphasizing the fact that he is Ordering sebastian when he is in a stressful situation or panicking for any given reason, focusing on the language that he Knows sebastian will respond to. and it’s a trauma response. IT’S A TRAUMA RESPONSE!!

what i think ciel Hates, above all else, maybe even more than he cares to consciously admit, is not having power. he can’t stand to not be the one in full control of a situation. he can’t stand having his agency taken from him, not after Everything that he’s been through.

if there’s one thing that watching his entire family be killed while also being viciously abused by a cult taught (not) ciel, it is the feeling of having No power. he was helpless to stop his parents’ murders, he was helpless to stop the cult from violating and abusing him, he was helpless to stop his own brother’s death. ciel connects more easily and often more deeply on an emotional level with the lower class characters in the story because he knows what it feels like to be completely powerless in the face of the absolute worst of humanity. thus, when ciel acts like a Brat, when he asserts his title as an Earl, someone Respectable, or as The Queen’s Watchdog, someone Threatening, when he demands that everyone bend over backwards to serve his will— it is ciel taking back all the power that he can and gripping it as tightly as he possibly fucking can, because he knows what can and will happen if/when he lets it all go.

and there is no character for which this is more true than sebastian. one of the most powerful entities in the series, easily the one closest to ciel, who he depends on so incredibly— but who is also Destined and Required to bring his end once all this is over. ciel kicks sebastian around, treats him like shit and shows him rare moments of kindness and care, all for the affirmation that He is still in control. absolutely nobody can ever meaningfully hurt ciel again, so long as sebastian is there— and sebastian won’t hurt him either. not yet. but, instinctively, he needs to keep testing that bond. just in case. just to be sure.

honestly, i think that’s where the real tragedy of the series comes from— ciel never really grows, never really changes, because he Can’t. he guaranteed that for himself. at his absolute lowest point, ciel lost all faith in humanity and god and Himself. he lost his childhood naïveté, and the ability to believe in goodness in any form. ciel knows that one day, he’s going to be hurt again, that someone is going to snatch him up and chew him alive— all he wants now is the control to dictate for himself when that inevitable end will happen.

[manasurge]

Back to work

[brown-little-robin]

I think I'm in the "conscious incompetence" stage of being a social animal in the real world and it sucks so majorly. bro what do you do after you realize you're bad at socializing and then in-person interaction gets harder because you know you're failing at it now.