#I'm Really Really Really Really Really Normal about this picture's existence friends

[toiletpotato]

Hinton Battle was the original Scarecrow in The Wiz, Mabel King was the original Evillene* (in both the stage show AND the movie), and Tasha Thomas was the original Aunt Em.

*Evillene is the name of the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wiz, so this is a picture of two Wicked Witches of the West meeting (!!!!!!!!!)

BONUS:

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

[missysverse]

𝓦HAT I'VE SCRIPTED IN MY 𝓦AITING 𝓡OOM

Feel free to use for inspiration for yours - i'll try to update this post for more new ideas if anyone is interested.

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐒:

✯₊˚༄ PORTAL ROOM — Each portal represents a different desired reality, with the name of the DR displayed on the arch above the portal. For example, one portal might read "Supernatural DR." When I step through a portal, I will instantly shift to the corresponding DR

✯₊˚༄ STUDY ROOM — a room where I can literally study for school relating to my CR, I have unlimited rescources available to me: textbooks, flashcards, notes all done (anything else I need I can literally just instantly manifest it), comfortable seating, big speaker I can use to play whatever music I want. I have a virtual AI tutor who can provide me detailed explanations for my subjects, orffer practice questions, mock tests, and instant feedback. I have an option to activate 'group study mode' where it will summon whatever people I want to If I want help with studying/get bored.

✯₊˚༄ THERAPY ROOM — Therapy room with Hannibal Lecter (he is not a cannibal or bad person is ANY way y'all.) He will give me good life advice, shifting advice etc anything I need help with - he knows me and my lifes well (only because I tell him about it), he also gives me good inspiration for scripting. He will also teach me a lot about neuroscience, psychiatry, psychology etc.

✯₊˚༄ LOUNGE ROOM — Here is where I can watch unlimited shows/films I want even if they don't exist in my CR e.g films I'm in from my fame DR, or completely new shows, or new seasons of my favourite shows that don't exist. There is also spotify on there and its the same concept as above - there are also playlists that are specific for my DRs and my relationships. There is also a section where I can go on that can play unlimited edits of me from my DRs, people from my DRs. All the edits are really well made and good. There are normal edits but also transition edits too. There is also a custom edit section where I can basically describe the edit and what song and it will make the edit. Not only that but I can also replay certain moments from my DR on the TV, I just have to think about the moment and then it can play or there are complimation videos of different moments from my DR. I also have unlimited games, books, vinyls.

✯₊˚༄ KITCHEN — literally where I can find unlimited food, any food I want will instantly manifest in the fridge.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒

credits to someone from reddit for some of these ideas (I'll try to find the post)

✯₊˚༄ LIFAGRAM — instagram but for shifters to access multiversally, I can share pictures and videos from my DR on here and can see other shifters. You want to share a cute picture of you and your friends to other shifters? well you can.

✯₊˚༄ SHIFTING SPACE — I have access to videos and photos from my DR and it is stored on my ‘Shifting Space’ and also just any moments from your DR, you can also share edits of your DR and yourself on here with other people

✯₊˚༄ LIFATOK — basically a less toxic version of shiftok lmao (jkJk) but the same premise as LIFAtok but its short video where people mostly share edits or moments from there DR

✯₊˚༄ LIFAFLIX — other people’s and mine DRs as tv shows, you can also watch yourself in other siutations that don’t have to be your DR but other realities that you want to be in but you don’t want to shift e.g a reality where I am spiderman(??) so there's a film based on that scenario.

✯₊˚༄ LIFAFLIX — again like the other social medias, you can share longer videos of moments from your DR

✯₊˚༄ LIFATUNES — basically like Spotify but you can share your songs from your singer DR, you can also find whatever song you want there are basically unlimited songs e.g you can change the language of songs and change lyrics or any certain features of songs you don’t like

✯₊˚༄ LIFABOOK — basically an instant journal with unlimited pages where it will insantly write out enteries of my DR experiences, the dates, everything in detail which I can read back if I want to (although I can always just replay the memories on the big screen)

Last updated : 05/12/2024

[redrosydiaz]

happy warm mouth wednesday friends 👄

walk with me and picture: a post bisexual awakening world — where either tommy doesn't exist or he and buck just kissed and that's it. nothing else. no relationship — but. post bisexual awakening buck, who is considering the fact that being bisexual means sleeping with men. and, he wants that, of course, but it's new to him, so, naturally, he gets in his head about it. and he's like well what if i'm bad at it? what if i don't know how to do it? what if i'm not good at giving blowjobs?

and, this, crucially, is the most upsetting part, because buck loves going down on people — on women. he prides himself on it. he's good at it, like, really good, AND it's just something he loves to do. like he could literally get off on just going down on a girl — not just because he's getting off on giving to his partner and making her feel good first, but also because he just genuinely enjoys the act itself. and so he's like well. it is fundamentally different with a man, it is something new i'll have to learn and — what if i'm bad at it? what if i don't like it?? i don't think i won't like it, but i don't know! and i won't know until i do it! but also i can't be like mid blowjob and realize i hate it!! that's terrible!! and so, in true buck nature, he is toootally spinning himself out about this.

and the thing is — he and eddie never really got detailed about their sex lives with each other. like, eddie would know that buck was sleeping with his girlfriends and buck would know that eddie was too, but outside of like the briefest of mentions of that they were never the sit down with a beer and describe in detail the play by play of the night type of guys. they never really talked about it, and they never really talked about why they never really talked about it either.

but. here buck is. talking about it. even if it is only hypothetically speaking here, but still. it's a lot more detail than eddie is used to. and he— well. buck is painting a picture. and eddie is— not lacking imagination. so he is picturing. and he is. getting hard about it. but eddie is trying so hard (hah) to be a Good Friend about this, and offer advice and keep buck from spiraling further. only— he opens his mouth and what ends up spilling out is "you can practice on me." and it. cuts buck's rambling and his pacing off completely. and he just stares back at eddie, blinking at him like he isn't so sure he heard him correctly. but, oh, he did. he did.

and so. yknow. Practice Blowjobs happen. and after the first time, naturally, it ends with eddie telling buck it was good, really good, but he trails off in a way that suggests there is a but (and, there isn't, not really, because buck WAS really good, actually. but eddie's brain is already two steps ahead trying to figure out a way to make it happen again.) and so buck goes "..... but?" and eddie goes "well. you know, you've got to keep practicing. to keep your skill up. it's like. it's like a muscle, y'know. you gotta keep using it so it doesn't deteriorate. and you don't want your um. blowjob muscle, so to speak, to to deteriorate." and buck is like "mhm mhm you're so right. absolutely. yes. yep. yeah" and eddie's like "welllll. if you ever need a practice buddy........" and buck is like "mhm mhm right. absolutely. yes. yep. yeah."

and OF COURSE it keeps happening.

and i am thinking by like the fourth or fifth time it happens maybe, eddie — in his brain — is like well. actually. what if. what if i wanted to try it. because like. buck makes it look fun. and y'know. it's always good to expand your repertoire. to learn new skills. you never know when you'll need them. mhm mhm. totally normal thought process here.

and so the next time, after they finish, buck sits back on his haunches and wipes his hand over his mouth (obscene) and looks up at eddie with those big eager eyes and he goes "so, how was it?" (because they have Kept Up the "this is for skill practice and improvement" thing) and this time eddie is like "well. it was good. but i was thinking. what if. what if i showed you. um. exactly what i like?" and bucks like "um?" and eddies like "yeah. yeah! i could. y'know. show you. exactly how i like it. so you know. for next time." and bucks like "show me?" — and like he thinks he knows what eddie is getting at here, but also, there's no way eddie is getting at what he thinks he is getting at. that's like. way too good to be true.

but it is. true. and eddie just nods and goes "yeah like. like." and he mimes a blowjob (because he is. a DORK. but also because this feels too precarious and he can't bring himself to actually say blowjob, out loud, in the context of himself. but not because he's scared or ashamed or confused or anything. but because he's just. excited about it. and that makes him nervous but like. in a good way)

and buck is like oh. oh. and then nearly swallows his tongue in his haste to agree like "oh yes yes uh huh sure absolutely that would be. i am a visual learner hah. you should— yes. you should yes. definitely."

and that is how eddie gets his practice in too.

and of course, they are not together yet and they think this is Totally Normal Boy Bestie Behavior — exchanging blowjobs for practice — and they are both catching feelings (or, becoming aware of the feelings they've already caught, really), and recognizing that this is a Dangerous situation, because it's just practice to the other, but it means something more now, to both of them, unknowingly to each other!!

[valtsv]

Hi Mr Loveless, how does one make friends and hold onto them? I have so many friends who I call friends but they don't seem to remember I exist unless I am in their faces, in their inbox, it's never them approaching me.

Do I have to always be a bother to be acknowledged? Am I missing whatever it is that makes everyone accept zero interactions between friends for months as normal? Am I wrong to expect minimal effort from friends, like they imply, that they're not obligated to do it and it's insensitive of me to feel upset about being forgotten? That's not how it is for those who my friends call Their friends. It's not like I have different politics or can't understand their discourse either.

I'll be 25 next week, my friends are all too busy or haven't checked in in weeks or even replied more than an emoji. I'm frankly worried there's something wrong with me I'm never going to be remotely a priority to anyone but my family.

i've been where you are, and trust me when i say that i know how soul-crushingly lonely it feels when you wonder if you'll ever be the most important person in anyone's life, but here's the thing: that's insecurity, and it never goes away, but it's also not a true reflection of your reality. even the most joined-at-the-hip lifelong friends (or family, or lovers) won't be each other's top priority 24/7 for their whole entire lives - and that's a good thing! that level of commitment is a demanding, exhausting, and frankly nightmarish. there will be times when you are the centre of your friends' worlds and they're yours, and you'll feel like you've never understood someone and been understood in turn so perfectly. and there'll be times when you're on totally different pages; perhaps you won't speak at all for weeks, months, or even years. you might speak for the last time one day without knowing it. you might spend the rest of your lives in each other's orbit. the future will always be uncertain, and borrowing grief will never change that.

that's the bigger picture, however, and probably not particularly helpful to your immediate situation. i can sympathise with feeling like you're always the one initiating contact and never the one being sought out, and i know exactly how unwanted and unappreciated that can make you feel. it's worth keeping in mind that if your friends are receptive to you reaching out to them, however (even if only in the form of a very basic expression of acknowledgement like an emoji), then they probably do genuinely appreciate and enjoy your friendship. it's entirely possible that they're just currently in situations where they have less energy and time to devote to considering that you might not have anyone checking in on you the way that you do for them. unless they're all psychically linked, it's highly unlikely they know that you don't have anyone doing the same for you.

the only advice i can offer you is suggesting that you try to communicate that you'd appreciate more of their attention. perhaps the next time you reach out (if you haven't tried this already), mention that it's been a while since you last really talked, and that you'd love to get together and properly catch up sometime. ideally propose a way for you to connect, either virtually or in real life - feel free to encourage them to set the date, which will subtly hint that you want them to be involved in the process, and make it more of a mutual effort. be on the lookout for opportunities to connect over mutual interests, such as group watching (or listening to, or reading) media you both enjoy, or an event you can both attend, or virtual platforms with an interactive element like multiplayer video games. there's only so much you can do, and it shouldn't be entirely your responsibility to maintain a relationship, but it always helps to try expressing your desire for your feelings to be noticed and reciprocated before listening to the insecurity devil.

[ninasodiiva]

blooming season

what's blooming in your life this spring?⋆.ೃ࿔🌷

PAC reading

hi my loves! hope you're having a beautiful day, im back after a long hermit period (not painful don't worry) that's why i haven't posted any readings <3 plus i had so many projects and exams but im finally free!!!

to celebrate spring we are taking a look at what's blooming in your life during this season!!

how to choose your group?

take a deep breath and relax your body, look at all the pictures and pick the one you are the most drawn to, don't think about it to much. you might be attracted to the picture or the number. REMEMBER this is a general reading, take what resonates and leave what doesn't. nothing is set in stone. if you are not drawn to any of the pictures this might not be the reading for you loves. that said, let's get into it!

pile 1: flower girl 🪻

hi and welcome pile 1, happy spring and i hope you're doing amazing my loves 🤍 let's get into your reading.

be excited for spring because your reading is giving me MAJOR romcom girl vibes. there are not any signs of relationships or romantic interest in you're reading but i feel this season you're not looking for that. you're open to the idea but it's definitely not a priority! i feel this last months/ years you tried to make sense and figure out what you want your life to look like, your passions, environment, friends, career, goals... you had a white canvas in front of you but no colors to paint with. you felt "lost" because the person you once were no longer existed and at the same time you were discovering and building your new self <3 well this spring life is giving you the paint you needed to make a beautiful and unique

the chapter of surrendering to the unknown is over, spring is lighting up the way for you. your lust for life is taking over. spirit is saying you are TRULY starting a new life with a childlike wonder for everything. i was going to say that maybe you're starting a new project but really you're starting A NEW LIFE 🌷 taking risks, socializing, indulging in activities that make you feel like life is exciting and fun again!! this spring clarity is assured and the fog is clearing, you're moving on from your old life, friends, ways of thinking, girl even your own self. i feel so whimsical in your energy but grounded, you will find the balance to enjoy the beautiful life ahead of you while having a routine that makes you feel stable and secure. perfect balance between surrendering and control. i'm truly watching a master in action babe ✨ spirit is showing movies like enchanted, 13 going 30, uptown girls, how to loose a guy in 10 days, etc. and let me tell you that's the fucking vibe you are giving in spring!!! that main character in a 2000 movie excited for her new beginning and pursuing her passions and dreams 🧚🏼‍♀️ i see you working in a project that's very important to you, very driven, talented and passionate towards it good for you my love!!! like seriously this is a 10/10 reading you have nothing to worry about and all to be happy for <3 i also see you going to social events (could be with friends, a wedding, a party you're invited to) and having LOTS of fun 🩷

spirit is also advising you to compromise yourself to that project or goals and dreams you have. make a promise to yourself but don't rush and exhaust yourself. balance is a common theme in your reading and it's the key to maintaining the energy that's blooming this spring. ofc it's totally normal to feel down sometimes, don't beat yourself up over it!! i just see you so so SO happy and proud of the life you're building and that's what you deserve 100% 🪷🦢 prosperity is on your side and you're definitely in the right path (for those who needed to hear it). TAKE SPACE, DANCE, SING, PAINT, IDK JUST GET OUT THERE AND BE YOURSELF!!!!! trust please just trust and have fun. i'm hearing that some of you will connect with your loved ones more or if you had family problems lately spirit is advising you to resolve them. maybe call them, have a heart to heart conversation and try to find common ground if it's possible (take that as it resonates pls it's only for a few of you).

dear pile one, you've cheered me up with your energy so thanks for that lol 🪷 i hope this reading was helpful and i send you lots of love

Nina˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

---------------------------------------------------------

pile two: bumblebee 🐝

hi and welcome group number two, if you choose the cute bumblebee this is your reading for what's blooming in your life this spring, let's get into it!! <3

my loves right away it was SO easy for me to tap into your energy and focus in channeling, i think you definitely indulge in some spiritual practice. when i opened to your energy i felt like something was being hidden from you (not in a bad way!!), spirit is keeping something hidden from you because it's a surprise, and overall there's this mysterious vibe from you. there are so many synchronicities in your reading, for some reason most of your cards have people with their eyes closed and i've had this deck for a long time and never noticed that, plus the song The Lady In Red started playing. And omg the lyrics also mention "not seeing". listen to it cause i feel it may be a sign or message (and the song is so precious too 🤍)

i see that in the past you went through a situation where you were in a constant battle with someone (?). i strongly feel you were fighting for someone's love/affection/approval. you felt in competition with another person but things didn't end the way you'd hoped. to be honest this past energy feels a bit toxic, im picturing someone spying another's phone (not saying this is you), betrayals, playing dirty, etc. as a result from this your world crumbled into pieces and i feel the pain you felt. i'm being shown yourself from that time and you now and my loves let me tell you, you're a new person 🪷. that experience made you realize there's zero point in begging for someone's affection, far less fighting another girl for a boy 😭 (that's for some of you take it as it resonates). this situation put you in the path of self love and self respect and you're still learning my love (we're always learning don't be hard on yourself <3).

well that's the past, this spring i 100% see you so so SO focused in your peace, in pouring the love and care you deserve into yourself and taking your time and energy seriously, in a soft and ethereal way. it's giving me classic disney princess. they way they moved, talked, the way they see the world and how kind they are! all that but towards your own self 🦢🌷 you will be in your own world and you'll LOVE IT, because its the one you built for yourself, one that makes you feel safe to be your true self without anyone's approval. you're ignoring hate, toxic gossip (yes i believe there's healthy gossip lol), jealousy and judgement.

im so proud of the progress you made and the one that's in the future for you pile two, really. i see you in my minds eye, how you see the world with innocent and curious eyes. doing the things you love, being so genuinely kind to everyone and helping as much as you can. you will have love not only for others but for yourself too. okey snowhite i see you ;) ❤️

now with that said, i can move to the last message. since this spring you're in your own little world, you won't notice this new love coming in. you might now them already or not BUT LISTEN, this is not the past person we just talked about please. i know you are smarter than that and i also know the work you've done to heal, so don't be stupid babes. spirit is not telling me much... omg that's what the song i channeled was about shut tf UPPP. you won't see this person coming because you're in your own world doing your thing, but i see them watching you and planning on how to approach you. for some of you it could be through social media and they might be an earth sign (taurus, capricorn or virgo). yall its coming sooner than you think im so excited for you, be open to get to know this person because spirit and the cards are saying they are a really good match for you. oh and commitment is assured 🫶🏼

my loves i hope this reading resonated and gave you clarity. let me know how this unfolds for you!! i send you lots of love 🩷

Nina˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

---------------------------------------------------------

pile three: magical horse 🧚🏼‍♀️

hi and welcome pile number three <3 let's get into your reading. your spread is really complex and it's about career/studies/goals you're pursuing. if that doesn't resonate i suggest you to choose another group.

welcome my boss ass bitches i know a queen when i feel this type of energy ✨, spirit took over this reading and they want to give you advice, it seems important because i tried to ask for what's blooming for you in spring but they kept insisting on giving you guidance!! i see you are a person with so much ambition but you feel unhappy with your job. you have so many options to choose from but you're scared to take a leap of faith into a direction aligned with your goals. yall your workplace is EXTREMELY toxic, i see that some of you are scared to make this move because you know your boss or people in higher ranks will "punish you" for "betraying" them (wtf???). babes listen to me, these people are purposefully bringing you down, making you doubt yourself and gaslighting you in hopes that you won't noticed the power, influence and potential you have. they're trying to keep you in their shitty environment because they KNOW you have the power to succeed and most definitely outsmart them. you know that place is not for you group three, i can feel their energy and it's disgustingly manipulative. it reminds me of that video of Robert Downey Jr. visiting Wall Street where everyone is going crazy and he says "if money is evil then that building is hell" (you being Robert obv).

you're overthinking your next step as if you don't know the best option is to GET AWAY FROM THERE, like seriously this place is reminding me of Scientology girl idk where you work at or what environment are you in but you NEED to pack your things and leave spirit is saying. tell me why the song "you don't own me" started playing... BIG SIGN. okey for a few of you this has to do with legal issues and contracts, spirit says they have your back and there will be justice for you, because i see that maybe you can't leave because of a contract. don't stress over it, justice will prevail. trust your intuition, there is so much abundance, success and happiness on the other side. you're used to being in the dark you think there's no place better than in the shadows. spirit is saying you're meant for bigger things, i know you have that idea/project/goals that just thinking about it makes you shine inside out, DO IT ✨ its totally okay to be scared of the unknown but please trust that the best is yet to come 🩷. what's blooming for you in spring is this new opportunity for greatness but only if you take a leap of faith and follow your inner voice! you're a driven and powerful person i know you can do it!!!

i asked for more messages since they only gave you advice and this is JUST PERFECT. in spring you'll celebrate this new beginning in your career, i see social gatherings, traveling, planning ahead, and an overwhelming amount of happiness and love. so wholesome, i see your loved ones being there by your side celebrating this huge milestone. ⭐️ monetary and emotional fulfillment is coming for you this spring AS IT SHOULD!! i just heard the song "APESHIT" by Beyoncé and her ugly ass husband when he says "you need me i don't need you" PERIOD THATS LITERALLY THE BEST WAY TO DESCRIBE IT!!! listen to it now i feel it's a sign

pile three i believe in you and spirit does too, i hope this readings gave you clarity and let me know how this unfolds! 🤍with so much love

Nina˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[edwardteachswombtattoo]

The interior of Ed and Stede's relationship is well-tread both in analysis and the show itself. We know why they fall for each other, how they fall for each other, when they fall for each other. We've been inside their heads. We could, if we wanted to, probably compile a rough timeline of events from Point A (Ed hearing of Stede's existence) to Point Z (Ed and Stede retiring from piracy to open an inn). Has anyone done that? Someone should do that. I might do that.

But a thread the show keeps pulling on from their first meeting all the way to the end of Season 2 is the persistent showing that no one else seems to fully understand what Ed and Stede have going on.

There are exceptions to this. Lucius with his emotional intelligence and arguably the whole crew of The Revenge understand that Ed and Stede feel something for each other that is somewhat outside the framework. The Revenge is a safe space where they are allowed to explore and hold feelings like that and their influence (Stede's, but really the whole crew's) outgrows the ship and spills out into the wider culture of piracy. They don't fundamentally change the whole culture of piracy, but their influence forces characters who would otherwise be immovable and rigid in their personal philosophies (Anne and Mary Read, Zheng Yi Sao, Auntie, Ned Low's crew, etc.) to rethink their relationships with each other.

I already made a post about Jack and how he seems to think Stede is just a passing fascination, so I won't repeat myself. But this is not the first nor will it be the last time a character fundamentally misunderstands how much Ed cares about Stede. Izzy in Season 1 legitimately believes that Stede's death will force Ed back to normal, to the extent that he does not even try to comfort or console Ed during Stede's almost-execution. And he is caught totally caught off guard when Ed gives up his life to save Stede's.

Ned Low demonstrates an awareness of something being there, but he dismisses it the same way Jack did: Ed only cares about Stede because he's new and interesting. Ed will move on once that shiny new pirate smell wears off. "Ed only cares because you're interesting" and "Ed only cares because you're inexperienced".

These are easy assumptions to make when you only have one half of the picture. And when you don't understand that Ed exists as a multi-faceted whole thinking person outside of his Blackbeard persona and piracy. The distinction between "Blackbeard" and "Ed" was made very early on (Ed introducing himself as "Ed") and reinforced later with "His name is Ed". When other characters refer to Ed, it's useful to ask: are they talking about Ed or Blackbeard? Ed and Blackbeard are not fundamentally distinct personalities, but Blackbeard is a performance and a mask Ed puts on. His arc at the end of Season 2 deals with reconciling his past, Blackbeard, The Kraken, and all these other facets of himself into one cohesive person who is just called Ed.

Yeah, Ed is fascinated by Stede's things. His fabrics, his wardrobe, the model ship, the secret passages, the books. But even from their first meeting, Ed and Stede are not just connecting over Stede's clothes and his books. Ed is sharing his love of soft things with someone for probably the first time in his life, he's being vulnerable and truthful. He remains guarded through their first interactions, but he's being more open and candid than Blackbeard would be. "Do you fancy a fine fabric?" is not a question Blackbeard would answer honestly. And when Ed casually makes the reveal ("I'm Blackbeard") in the auxiliary wardrobe, Stede does not treat him any differently after the fact. Everyone else is like "big scary pirate Blackbeard!!" but Stede is like "That's Ed :) He's my friend :) He's very cool and he likes fabrics and did I mention he is my friend?? :)"

Ned Low, Izzy Hands, and Jack all ask the question Why does Blackbeard care so much about this fucking muppet? and collectively decide it must be because Stede clearly does not know what he's doing and/or he has a lot of cool stuff and Ed is into that shit. And there is a part of Ed who probably did at one point think it was just Stede's stuff he was into, that he just wanted what Stede had and then realized it was not about the fancy stuff it was about Stede as a person. That is why Ed starts to really fall for Stede at the end of "The Best Revenge is Dressing Well". They have their intimate moment and Ed is like oh fuck I might be in love with this guy for real oh fuccccck I want to kiss him so baddddd oh shit oh fuck. I've always been of the (maybe controversial? idk) opinion that Ed was flirting during their first meeting and making it obvious as possible he was DTF if Stede was into that, which is the maximum amount of physical intimacy and wanting Ed could allow himself to express without getting scared. He wasn't full bright lights in love with Stede at first sight, but he was infatuated at first conversation.

Interestingly, we never see this on the other side. It is always assumed that Stede just doesn't understand Ed, that he doesn't understand how Ed really feels about him and if he only knew The Real Ed (Blackbeard) he wouldn't have so many soft feelings. In Season 2, Stede is continuously confused when people suggest Ed might try to kill him. Because Stede alone knows that the last time Ed tried that, he ended up having a panic attack and hiding in Stede's bathtub. Izzy tries to pull the whole "you don't know him like I do" and Stede rebukes that fucking instantly by describing Ed's entire mindset in a single sentence while Izzy was just last season struggling to understand Ed's sudden shift in behavior. Izzy sees a change in Ed's behavior and is at a loss to understand, while Stede sees a change in Ed's behavior and instantly clocks what is going on.

"You don't actually know him" is how outsiders rationalize Stede's feelings about Ed and "he's just a momentary bit of fun" is how outsiders rationalize Ed's feelings for Stede.

The key to these intimate moments between Ed and Stede is that they really are between Ed and Stede. Ed never shares these memories with anyone. Even when he's talking with Mary Read in "Fun and Games", he brings up the stabbing because it's relevant and then tries to brush it off a little by saying he had to force Stede to do it and calling Stede "fragile". He does not even allude to the intimacy of that moment and his own being vulnerable. Stede and Lucius are the only people Ed reveals those parts of himself to.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Just a concept, Yandere!Dimensional traveler!Batman X Gn!reader X Platonic!Batfam, also wrote a one shot about this

Synopsis: Batman becomes obsessed with a spouse and kids that he never had.

Pairing: Yandere!Dimensional traveler!Batman X Reader; Batman X Reader; Platonic Batfam X Batparent!Reader; Yandere!Batman X Platonic!Batfam; Batman X Platonic!Batfam

Tw: English is not my first language; mentions of Alfred being dead; I'm quite new on the fandom so there might be some mistakes about facts of the original comics, but this is a fanfic so whatever; this piece is more focused on Bruce and the batfam while still mentioning reader; stalker and delusional Bruce.

Word count: 1,4k

Requested? No.

General masterlist | Ao3

Yandere!Batman who is very VERY, extremely, lonely, touch starved and grim. He’s also very unlucky apparently.

He never even met Dick. Sure, he heard about what happened to The Flying Graysons, investigated it even, but he's only seem him on pictures, videos or in passing, but he wasn��t there that night, he never talked to him, or maybe he did while stopping him from killing Zuko, either way, never adopted him, our boy went straight to orphanage and was adopted shortly after by a normal and loving family.

Actually this universe’s Bruce never met nor connected with ANY of his children, all he had was Alfred, and yet… Something happened and…

Safe to say it's been long, never ending harsh years.

The only thing this Bruce knows is pain, loneliness and misery. Don’t talk to him about Alfred. Maybe he can't even look at pictures. When he realized he couldn’t remember his voice anymore… He WON’T watch videos or listen to audio of him. Yes, Alfred being gone was one more trauma to the list of traumas he will carry on his tense and burdened shoulders for the rest of his helpless existence.

This Bruce is a loser, closer to madness than any version of Bruce (aside from Batman who laughs). His Gotham is nearing it’s doom. He didn't join the Justice League because of his level of emotional masochism, pride and lack of will to get back on his feet. He is so used to suffering he thinks it's possible to die if he doesn't have such bitter companion. Safe to say, he is depressed. And hyperfocused on saving a city he’s been working in for decades, too blind by his grieving to see that he is not doing the right things. There is no social projects on Wayne Enterprises or Wayne Foundation to help people, he neglected the company decades ago. He is almost becoming Michael Keaton’s Batman in The Flash.

Somehow, one day he is sent to another universe. It can be through some disaster like Crisis in Infinite Earths, or some villain who wanted different variants of heros to fight amongst themselves to death, doesn't really matter here, what’s important is that he (after years of being a hermit on his cave) interacts with people, more specifically, he interacts with himself.

Or definitely a lucky version of himself. Maybe the luckiest. He is jealous.

During the whole event they interact and imagine how he felt when he found out that this other Batman has an Alfred. And he is so successful that he is a billionaire who uses his money to help Gotham get better (or as good as we know Gotham can get). Oh, and he has a spouse. And children. Plural. So many he lost count. And pets. Two dogs, one cat, a cow (?), a turkey (a what now?) and a fREAKING DRAGON BAT (WHAT THA FUCK IS EVEN THAT????!?!?????!).

He is also more put together (looks like he showers and doesn't skip meals). And less temperamental.

Okay…

Bruce is confused. When he comes back to his universe, with a spark of hope in his heart, he does his research. He could start actually making effort on his company and thus helping Gotham, maybe even be good enough as a vigilant that he could join the Justice League and make some friends (even if the other Bruce was just as stoic, he was the only one who could see on his micro expressions while talking about them how fond he was of his colleagues, and how much he thrusts them, even with his trust issues).

He could find those damn kids and adopt them. Find the one who somehow managed to make him open up enough for a relationship.

(He could also just work on his company, philanthropism, do some therapy, make some new organic connections or whatever).

He is VERY disappointed to find out that some of those so called kids and are already adults, have lived their whole lives without him, maybe some have been arrested or even dead, they have their whole lives and families that have NOTHING to do with him. Some don't even exist (the only explanation for not a single clue in months of research). And his partner, Reader, is either living their own life that doesn't allow space for him or also dead. He lost his timing. He is old and lost his timing. He is alone. He shouldn't have hoped so much that he got blind by the improbability of the small chance. The other Batman did mention that his family started growing decades ago.

He just lost another family. This one he never got to have. He wishes he never knew about them.

He hyperfocused on them for months for nothing (hey, It was hard to find info on the ones that don't live a very civilian legal life, like Cassandra, or the ones that never even existed, like Damian, or the ones that are dead — again maybe Cassandra, or perhaps Jason. Maybe Jason joined a gang just for survival or something like that, life on the streets is harsh, and he is not very lucky. And I’m not even being specific on what could have happened to every single one of the batfam. Also Tim is probably a CEO right now). No connection and family will come from all of that. Especially because he is greedy, starved, he doesn't want bits and pieces, he wants it ALL. He wants that other Bruce's life.

Yandere!Batman is born. He drowns and gets drunk on the pit of his own madness and he can’t get out of it. Doesn't want to.

He could… He could get rid of the people on their lives, brainwash them and make them a happy family. They aren’t vigilantes, they don't have his abilities, they don't have his intellect, it won't be hard.

Of course, Batman doesn't kill, but this Batman is looking for a change.

But they aren't what lucky-billionaire-put-together Bruce had.

Don't get me wrong. He is not just petty and jealous, nor resents Bruce for his privileges and better decisions, or whatever.

Okay, maybe a little. Why? Just why ones life was perfect (hello? Didn't you hear the part where he told you his own problems? Not even about the DEAD RESURRECTED CRIME LORD SON?) while the others had to draw the short stick?

But majorly he is just desperate, foaming at the mouth for a happy ending, and projected all of that on that poor random bat.

Now, enough brooding, back to solutions.

He could clone them.

Could work. Not exactly easy but he could just hack onto Luthor archives until he found how he cloned Superman and made that Superboy, Superman, or whatever he goes by now.

Again, not the same as the original ones. The ones he craves. The ones he wants.

Alfred is screaming in his grave about how Bruce, please, needs to realize that no one will fill the expectations he puts on them, not even the “original ones”.

Another hard, but better fitted solution is to… Simply… Find a way to go to that other universe, or one similar enough, stalk and study their whole lives until he can perfectly replicate “lucky” Bruce’s persona, and just… Get rid of him and take his place. Hello Alfred, hello honey, hello kids, daddy’s home.

Looks like he finally got luck on his side, maybe the sun will rise tomorrow.

Yandere!Bruce won't just brush aside that he is rusty and definitely not a better Batman then the other one, but he's got time. He will developt patience. But can he learn enough to trick his perfect vigilant kids though? Is he seriously thinking straight? I mean, the batkids are dope though. They learned from the best. As a proud (wannabe) father he knows they will be better than him one day, perhaps already are.

How much of watching their lives, everything that he craves, can he take until he snaps? How much of watching Bruce's interactions with them can he take? He swears he won't take them for granted when he has them, he will take care of them, protect them, be a family, be happy.

Can he really keep his distance?

Looks like another supervillain just arrived in Gotham for the batfamily to battle against, he is quite persistent though.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[thewertsearch]

UU: i know yoU coUld never fUlly appreciate what this actUally meant, bUt i took mUch care to sync Up these conversations with yoU on the same day that i begin playing as well. UU: that way, we can joUrney throUgh oUr sessions together and compare notes! :u

That might not mean much to Jane, but I remember how hard it was for Karkat to stay linear with John. UU's lucky they're not using Trollian, is all I'm saying.

GG: I guess I should just start believing all of this now, huh? Rather than learning it to be true later and feeling the fool for all my curmudgeonly skepticism?

Well, I don't know. You kind of have a point, actually.

Like - yeah, John and co. certainly took Sburb's mechanics in stride. None of them were particularly surprised when their new video game started to affect the real world - probably because they've been dealing with Scott Pilgrim video game mechanics for their entire lives.

This is normal to them, and it should be normal for Jane, too.

But, when you think about it, it's not really Sburb's mechanics that Jane is skeptical about. She's not doubting the existence of, say, alchemy - it's the big picture stuff, like time travel, alternate dimensions, and meeting her friends in the Medium that she finds hard to believe. To her, that's a completely different kind of supernatural to her hammerspace inventory. The former isn't even really supernatural, to her - it's just life.

She might live in a video game world, but she's never been shown a time machine before. Why would she believe in it?

GG: So what do I know! Consarn it, maybe you are an alien girl from Uranus, and together we are about to play a game which determines the fate of existence. Sign me up! UU: oh, hee hee! bUt i never claimed to be from that planet, which is only in the far reaches of yoUr solar system. UU: in fact i am from mUch farther away. a different Universe altogether.

Well, she’s at least not in another Earth session, then. Damn it, I was holding out hope that she was FedoraFreak's server player.

Also, using your handle to falsely imply you're from Uranus, while not outright stating it, is a 'not technically lying' maneuver that would make Doc Scratch proud. Just saying.

UU: remember what i said aboUt the need for patience. UU: patience with yoUr friends. UU: patience for yoUr growth as a hero of life.

Well, I guess that confirms it - we're getting a different set of Aspects, this time around.

Also, our party finally has a healer. Thank fuck.

Oh hello, poppop. His friendly face is there to greet you every time you open your chest.

Apparently his goofy lil' wave is a universal constant.

[perfectlysanexd]

I haven't done one of these kind of posts in a while, but the expressions in Rebirth were top notch, and I wanted to talk a bit about and analyze Sephiroth's different smiles, both pre and post Nibelheim.

Nibelheim itself is difficult to gauge, because SOLDIER Cloud is actually Zack, and furthermore, some of it is definitely his own wishful thinking. But one thing you can say for sure, is that they portray that Sephiroth, despite being so emotionally weary, still summons up the energy to smile at his friend.

As soon as he turns away from Zack, his smile falls, and he doesn't give one to the Mayor at all.

However, when he turns back to inform the men that they're free until sundown, he summons up another smile for them. I don't think that he's just attempting to keep their morale up, he genuinely has affection for Zack, and cares for the others. He respects them for their service, putting their lives on the line for what they think is a good cause, and Sephiroth—as we saw in Ever Crisis—learned to be a compassionate person, who cares about the lives of others, even enemies.

Of course, he's deeply distressed during this time, the despair is eating him alive. Even Cloud acknowledges(despite having not known Sephiroth on a personal level) that he just wasn't himself once they arrived. But I'm not going to talk about my theories on all the Jenova stuff right now, that's not the focus here. Even at the window, you can tell he's feeling off, but when he turns to Zack, he attempts to smile again.

Sephiroth has never enjoyed his fame, and as we learned in Ever Crisis, he didn't choose it; Shinra made up bogus achievements and declared him to be a hero before even his first field assignment, as part of their recruitment campaign. Can't argue with results, I guess—it certainly got Cloud to join up out of hero worship, right? In EC, Sephiroth admits that all he ever wanted was to be normal, something that he knows he can never have. How sad...

So when this man wants to take his picture, it's no wonder that he's over it by then, and tells him no. And rather politely, too, all things considered. But even before that, he smiles and tells Zack that as long as he does his job, their young tourguide will be safe.

But as soon as he turns his back and walks away? Yeah, that smile immediately fades.

Which certainly doesn't change when the guy takes his picture. But of course, when Zack asks Sephiroth to pose for one, he just can't say no, even though he's not super happy about it. Anyway, he continues to smile at Zack for the duration of their journey up Mt. Nibel, making an effort to talk and even cracking a couple jokes, just trying to be a good leader and keep them in good spirits.

And of course, there's the very sad bridge part, where you can tell that he's genuinely upset that he failed to save the other infantryman that got washed away. He searches for him, but comes up empty-handed. Still, he smiles for Zack and teases him about a performance assessment, since their morale is quite low now, but they need to keep going.

Honestly, the Nibelheim part of Rebirth really did an excellent job of portraying Sephiroth's inner struggle. For reference, there are only 3 points in Remake, I think, when Sephiroth drops his ever-present, sometimes affectionate(towards Cloud) and often unhinged, smile: First, it's replaced with sheer rage as he kills President Shinra.

Second time, is when Aerith has a Cetra moment and suggests that his entire existence is "wrong".

And the third time is when he holds out his hand to Cloud at the Edge of Creation, and is rejected by him.

Anyway, back to Rebirth. Ignoring the bizarre smiles he showed us as Nibelheim was burning, as if he was in a trance and just not all there(that's a subject for a different chat), post-Nibelheim Sephiroth's smiles are interesting, too, if we consider what kind they are, depending on who he's dealing with.

For people he hates, like Tseng, it's much more unhinged looking, and very cold. You can tell there's a certain measure of satisfaction from shanking him, haha...

For someone like Aerith, who...I wouldn't exactly say that he hates her, but she's definitely in the way. I would almost say that he considers her to be actively preventing Cloud from recovering his true memories, leading him to remain as merely Sephiroth's "puppet", but that's a theory for another day. He looks at her coldly, as well, but it's a bit different. There's a bit more respect there than there was for Tseng.

And then there's Zack. Actual Zack. I feel like, deep down, he still cares about him, and has no intention of killing him. I almost sense a little...regret? Maybe? Hm. It's definitely a bit warmer of a smile. And of course, although he had many opportunities to get rid of Zack, he doesn't. Instead, he sends him off into the space between worlds safely.

And of course, last but certainly not least, is the way he smiles at Cloud. I know, I know. "But Sane, you like sefikura, so you're biased!" Look, I won't deny that. However, when you really look at it and compare his smiles, which is what this is all about, his truest smiles are always saved for Cloud. He has 2 different "flavors": pure affection and cruel affection. (There are also a few pity smiles, I think.) The former is used most of the time, whenever Cloud is in his sight, and the latter is used during moments when he's trying to control/influence him. I would almost say that he's...satisfied, yet regretful at the same time?? Like these:

And now, let's contrast that with his more genuine, affectionate smiles for Cloud... (The first shot here ⬇ can be contrasted with the shot 2 up from the bottom there ⬆, as the one above is when he's calling Cloud his puppet, and the one below is when Cloud goes to attack him and he opens his arms wider for the incoming uh...embrace.)

Remake had many interesting smiles from him, too, but that will have to be a different post, as this already has 30 screenshots. Anywho, you're free to draw your own conclusions, and not everyone reads faces in the same way, so maybe I'm nuts. Who knows? Either way, I hope you enjoyed this random, indulgent, very long post, haha. If you made it to the end, you're awesome. 💕

All screenshots were taken by me on my PS5. I won't ask for credit on them, since literally anyone can take an identical shot if they pause at the right second. (The exception are the 3 Remake shots, which were taken on PC with mods and the freecam. For those, I would appreciate credit if you use them anywhere, since I don't watermark them.)

[yoongsriverandme]

𓈒 ꪆৎ PROM SONG (GONE WRONG)!

❝ At the gate, stop and say, "be my valentine"… ❞

⤑ pairing: kim taehyung x fem!reader

⤑ genre: fluff, mutual pining, idiots-to-lovers, strangers(?)-to friends-to lovers, "unrequited" love, secret admirer!au, college!au.

⤑ wc: 3.8k

⤑ summary: with valentine's day right around the corner, you somehow have to muster up the courage to confess to taehyung - but oh yeah, two things: 1. he doesn't know you exist, and 2. you're his secret admirer.

⤑ rating: g/teen & up audiences

⤑ warnings: none besides a literal sprinkle of light light angst, and a little cursing! everyone gets a cameo

⤑ date posted: feburary 14, 2025

⤑ authors note: AHHH HI!!! i'm so excited to be here! this is my first ever post on this account, and i'm so happy it's on valentine's day! i cooked up this sickeningly fluffy fic for my four followers, so enjoy!

𓈒 ꪆৎ masterlist

⁘ preface: i only use bts as face claims! they are my muses, so anything they say or do, do not reflect their real life character!

Valentine’s day.

A time where couples all over the world celebrate their love with treats, and dates, and cute little notes riddled with the cheesiest, loveliest words.

What a fucking chore.

Your school was cascaded with an ocean of pink and red, the halls drowned in hearts and sweet aspirations to encourage the young lovers that housed their classrooms, and the yearners that were thinking maybe, just maybe, today might be the day.

You smack a low hanging decoration out of your way as you walk, the small scowl that was forming on your face deeping because of the irritating spangle.

You didn’t hate love. That’s just stupid.

Normally the amorous energy didn’t get on your nerves. 

How could they? With all of your friends gushing about the holiday, it’d be fruitless to be miffed over something as trivial as that, and it wasn’t like you didn’t want your friends to be happy.

You just had a bad morning.

‘Bad morning’ means seeing the guy you’re… mildly interested in, talking to another girl.

Feelings of jealousy felt like such a frivolous matter, because what’s the point in being mad at something or someone that wasn’t yours in the first place?

You hate the way your brain has labeled Kim Taehyung as yours in the first place. 

He was well known around school, a fine arts major with a minor in photography, and quite popular on the internet. 

He had a big Instagram account where he’d post personal pictures of things that were monotonous to any other person: a half empty cup of coffee, a sleeping cat on the street, a wildflower that seemed to have held some sort of beauty to the eye of its beholder.

Not that you were stalking him of course, it was just an admirable feat.

It was clear he was going to go far after graduation, and that in of itself was the most attractive part about him; not to mention his unwavering kindness or his off-kilter smile that appeared more like a box than anything.

Taehyung was also unshakably loyal. You’ve seen his anger directed at those who’d hurt his loved ones before, and it was terrifying.

So, it wasn’t strange that he’d be talking to someone that he knows. That’s just the way that life works. People talk to other people, plain and simple.

Just not you, it seems.

It’s not like you run in the same social circle, and you’ve never really made yourself available to him. It was your own fault.

It’s not that you didn’t want to talk to him, you were just… shy.

He’s the embodiment of sun, joy wrapped up into a small gift of a human being; and while yes, he does pick up where you lack, it seems to be too big of a gap to bridge. So, you’ll stick to admiring him for now.

“There’s another one, hyung!” Taehyung calls out in happiness as you round the corner to the hallway that houses the lockers.

Oh, and that too.

The love letters.

It was a lapse of judgement in your opinion. 

You were vulnerable, and one of your closest friends had managed to weasel their way into your brain and placed false hope that sharing your writing would somehow win him over.

It seems to be half true, for what it’s worth.

You were prepared for the sheer amount of warmth to spread through your chest after watching Taehyung react to your love letters the first time.

It was very simple: “your art is beautiful.”

You had haphazardly shoved it through the slits in the metal locker before hauling ass to your next class. The only reason why you were able to see his reaction is because yours was only four lockers down.

It was hard to act inconspicuous when your hands were damp with sweat, every negative thought flowing through your mind at the same time:

‘He thinks it’s stupid’

‘He’ll throw it away’

‘“Your art is beautiful”? Yeah, not like he’s never heard that one before’

But the funny part about life is that sometimes, it goes the way you want it to.

“Wah! Taehyungie, is that a love note?” His close friend Hoseok, had sounded from behind him.

It had only taken Taehyung a handful of seconds to open his locker, watch the note flutter out, bend over, pick it up, and read it.

Your body went rigid, and the grating silence that fell the nearly empty hallway was deafening.

Then, “I don’t know.”

Hoseok looked over his shoulder, and his eyebrows drew together. “It’s not very long.” He speaks unsurely. 

“I know,” Taehyung’s words were then followed by a wide smile. “It’s perfect.”

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. 

He had called the notes perfect.

From then on, you hadn’t really written a lot, because there was so much that you had to say that you couldn’t really say anything at all.

You wanted to write more, you wanted to give him more. There were so many times that you would go to write him a note with more than a sentence or two, but you’d end up sitting there and just staring at the slip of paper.

Your compliments never seemed to bother him, because every time you’d seen him go to grab his books, he’d give a quick, ecstatic glance over its internal contents, searching for your note.

It was flattering.

So, you kept writing, and he kept reading.

But now that Valentine’s day was around the corner, you couldn’t help but feel like you should have been doing more.

More of what? More words? Gifts? Actions? Confessions?

It leaves you in a conundrum, because while yes, you did want to confess to him, you had no fucking idea how, and secondly, to address the elephant in the room, he had no fucking idea who you were.

Okay, yeah, your lockers are only a foot or two apart, and yes, you do share a class with him, but you’ve never talked to him before. You’re lucky he would even remember your name because of attendance purposes.

You're snapped back into reality by a force slamming into you from behind, sending you stumbling forward and out from behind the corner you had been standing behind.

You let out an unattractive yelp, and your headphones had been ripped out of your ears and tumbled to the floor along with your phone.

You don’t even have time to blink before one Jeon Jungkook is in your field of vision, apologizing profusely and stumbling over himself to pick your things up.

“Oh, God – I’m so sorry! I – I didn’t see you, and I just wanted to –”

You swallowed harshly, keeping your eyes downcasted as embarrassment seeped into every crevice of your body.

So much for good introductions.

You know he was looking at you, and you knew that the ‘hyung’ he had been talking to was dance major Park Jimin.

Kill me. Kill  me. Kill me – 

“It’s fine.” You spoke blankly, almost as if you were bored. Almost as if you weren’t about to spontaneously combust where you stood.

You pushed out a hand, gesturing to him to place your lost objects in them; and he did, albeit hesitantly.

“Again, I’m –”

“Sorry. Yeah, I heard you the first time, and I said it’s fine.”

You finally look up, and you try to not cringe at the overwhelming amount of worry that’s etched into Taehyung’s face. 

Worry for who? You didn’t know, but you can’t help but risk a glance his way and his large brown eyes pour into your soul.

Dangerous.

This is exactly why you weren’t going to say anything.

“I’ve got to go to class. Just be careful next time.”

You rip your eyes away and turn around, abandoning your textbook and journal in exchange for safety. 

Safe from what?

The hardest part about sharing a class with Kim Taehyung was actually having to see him.

What makes it even harder is that he has been non-stop looking at you the entire period, and you can’t help but be a little self-conscious.

You shift in your seat, straightening your shirt, and nonchalantly wiping around your mouth just in case you might have saved anything from breakfast on your face.

It was like heaven had opened up when the bell rang, and you were the first one to shoot up, shoving your backup materials into your bag. You could’ve gone faster.

Just when you thought you were free, two sneaker covered feet encroached your vision.

“Hey.”

The deep timber of his voice shook you to your very core, and you paused briefly, glancing up at him even though it felt like cinder blocks were tied to the back of your eyes.

“Hi.” You breathed.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook.”

“I already said it was fine.” You sighed, putting away the last of your things and hauling the strap of your tote bag over your shoulder.

“It’s not, though. He shouldn’t have been running in a busy hallway like that. He could’ve gotten him or someone else hurt.”

Your nerves practically hummed at his fussing, but you forced it down.

“I appreciate your concern, and I don’t blame him for running into me. A lot of my friends are like him too. Excitable, quick to injure. Like a puppy.”

At your dry-witted joke, Taehyung cracked a grin. “(y/n), right?”

Even though he was clearly in front of you, hearing him say your name nearly startled you half to death. It sounded good coming out of his mouth. Too good.

“Yeah, and I know you’re Taehyung.”

“I’m sorry we’ve never talked to each other before, I’ve just been busy with, you know…”

“Your art and stuff, yeah. I know.” He seems caught off guard by the show of information, and you think that now would be an excellent time to chuck yourself out the nearest window.

“You know about my art?”

“And your photography.”

Wow, very inconspicuous.

“Oh?”

“I… think your work is excellent. You find beauty in the small things. It’s admirable.”

For a moment he just stares at you, and you stare back. For the first time since coming in contact with him today, you didn’t have the overwhelming feeling to run.

Maybe you can give him a bit more.

“What are you doing today?” Your breath catches in your throat at his question; had it been this easy all along? “Why?” 

For the first time today, you make him work for an answer from you, and you can see his grin melt into a small smirk. A sign that he appreciates the challenge.

“I was going to invite you to go out to lunch with me and my friends as an apology. Jungkook still feels terrible for almost tackling you.”

You wave off his statement. “As much as I’d love to, I’ve got a few things I’ve got to do today, but let Jungkook know that I’ll be around soon enough, so he can give me reparations then.”

Taehyung lets out a booming laugh.

“Alright, I’ll let him know.”

When you go back to your dorm that night, your hands practically shake with the adrenaline that your interactions with him gave you today.

You fumble to get out a pen, and instead of going for the half sheets of paper you had meticulously cut in half, you opt for a full piece.

You write what you’ve been feeling for these last few months; weeks upon weeks of yearning spill through your fingertips as you express your love for his laugh, how deeply enchanting his eyes are, how inspirational he is.

You write and write and write until your fingers cramp and you near the lower half of the page.

This. This was what you have been meaning to give him all this time.

This was the part of yourself that you were so desperate to show him. What you wanted him to acknowledge about himself.

In a corny show of vulnerability, you steal a heart sticker from your roommate and slip the letter – an actual letter! – into an envelope, sealing it shut with the glittering craft.

There’s rustling coming from outside, which means said roommate is home, and you quickly shove it into a random drawer in your desk for another day.

For the day.

You don’t expect Taehyung to talk to you the next day, or for the day after that.

He waves at you in the hallway when he sees you, comes to talk to you after class is over, and even gestures you over to sit next to him when he sees you sitting at lunch by yourself.

Normally you would take lunch as the time to catch up on a few things, the music blaring through your ears drowning out the restlessness of the campus goers around you.

You all but waddle over there, plopping down next to him a respectable distance away and fiddling with your jacket sleeve when your presence draws the attention of two of your seniors.

You bow at the waist in greeting of Yoongi and Namjoon, and they bow back, but you’re hit lightly with the back of Taehyung’s hand to your arm.

“Don’t bow to them, they don’t deserve it.”

Instantly, Yoongi’s sleepy demeanour slips and he hisses, swatting over at his dongsaeng half-heartedly.

“Don’t be such a brat. Respect your elders.”

You grin a bit, raising a brow Tae’s way as he cackles and leans back to avoid being hit.

“I didn’t know my friend was so disrespectful.” You find it in yourself to tease. It’s like a flip is switched in Taehyung, and he shoots you the most breath stealing pout you’ve only ever seen him give to the men in front of you.

Your grin slips and your eyes fall to his lips, watching them closely as he speaks. “Don’t be so mean to me, (y/n).” 

Your mouth flounders like an idiot, your gaze zeroing in on the beauty marks and imperfections that riddle his face. God, he was so beautiful.

Someone clears their throat, and he pulls away from you, and you spin to face forward.

You catch Namjoon’s knowing look and act like you didn’t see it.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s just butt-hurt that his secret admirer hasn’t left anything in his locker for the past few days.” Yoongi mumbles.

You force yourself not to cringe, but you can’t help but ask, “What secret admirer?”

“Someone’s been leaving Tae little compliments in his locker. It’s one of the things he’s been looking forward to, but the person hasn’t been by in a while.” Namjoon finishes for him.

“Hyung.” Taehyung whines, but it’s clear he’s been affected by the absence of your notes.

You had been so worried about the big bang that was ‘the letter’ – as your best friend had coined it – that you had forgotten about the compliments you were supposed to be writing to him.

But why would you write him compliments when you had the real deal right in front of you?

It didn’t seem to matter, though, because you can see the sad pull of his smile, how it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

You can’t take it.

“What if the person was planning something for valentine’s day?”

Three pairs of eyes land on you – suspicion, hope, and intrigue.

“Really?” Taehyung asks, but before he can answer, Yoongi goes, “How do you know?”

You flounder once again.

“I… I’m just making a logical guess.”

“Wah! So smart, (y/n).” The box-smiled man says in wonderment. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’ve been too in your head about some compliments. Idiot.” The last word is followed by a snapped flick to Tae’s forehead from Yoongi. 

“Ow, hyung!”

You know Namjoon is staring at you. No – not staring at you – analyzing you.

You know the older man had always been too smart for his own good, so you’re not surprised that he might’ve caught on this quickly.

You refuse to look at him, because as they say, “eyes are the window to the soul,” And you aren’t interested in letting the dragon-eyed man in front of you into it any time soon.

“Well good thing tomorrow is valentine’s day, right?” You don’t realize Taehyung’s talking to you until he nudges you with his shoulder.

“(y/n)?”

“Huh?” You ask intelligently, lifting your gaze from a spot on your table to look at him. “Right… right.” You agree with a nervous smile.

If Taehyung notices your anxiety, he doesn’t say anything, and you’re all the more grateful for it, though it feels like you're not alone with your thoughts.

That night, you prop the letter up on a stack of books and just stare at it.

You lean back in your seat, crossing your arms and staring it down as though it had personally offended you.

You can do this. It was easy.

Right?

You’re sick the entire morning, stomach swimming with something nasty as you tuck the offending piece of paper into your bag.

You’re just going to slip it into his locker, the same as you have every other time. The only difference is that your name is on it, and it’s up to him on whether or not he’ll decide to ever speak to you again.

It’s not the most foolproof plan you’ve ever had, but hey, a plan is a plan.

You tremble the whole walk to school, and it isn’t until you’re face-to-face with said locker that you finally feel bile start to burn at the back of your throat.

Oh God, were you really about to do this?

You force yourself to just bite the bullet and shove it in, but you’re stopped midway by a voice from behind you.

“(y/n)?” 

Your arms that were raised to push the paper through the slots freeze midair, the only thing piercing the silence is the sound of the hefty envelope sliding in and landing somewhere inside the metal container.

Taehyung is behind you.

Taehyung is behind you and he just watched you stand here and slip a note into his locker confessing your love to him.

Yeah, this plan was sure as shit not fucking foolproof.

“It was you?”

There’s something in his voice you can’t detect, and it’s taking you everything in your power to not haul ass.

“I…” You don’t know what to say as you turn around and are confronted by a slack jawed, wide eyed Taehyung.

You swallow the sand that’s in your mouth. Tears burn at the back of your eyelids at the thought of his rejection. Your heart already aches.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry… for leaving all those notes in your locker and for getting your hopes up… I –”

“Stop.”

“What?” Air rushes out of your lungs like someone sat on your chest.

“Don’t say sorry for doing something that made me happy.”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to be confused.

When he looks up at you, you can finally see the red hue that paints his caramel cheeks; he shares a nervous smile with you as he steps forward carefully, as though he’s afraid you’d disappear.

“I have a few secrets of my own that I think I should share with you.”

He reaches forward and encompasses your hand in his, and they are as big and warm as you had imagined they would be. They’re a bit calloused, but you figure that comes from holding a paintbrush for hours at a time.

“I… I’m really happy that it’s you.” He swallows and chuckles wetly. “I like you, (y/n). If you haven’t noticed.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“Don’t think you’ve been the only one watching someone around here.” He’s smiling brightly and his teeth are so white they nearly blind you. 

“I confess that, I’ve known you for longer than when we first met.”

“What?” You ask again, but now you’re smiling just a bit. Butterflies swarm in your stomach as he speaks. They’re fluttering so fast you feel nauseous.

“I’ve liked you since the beginning of the year.” He’s staring at you dead on. “I… I remember seeing you and thinking you were so cool.” Taehyung laughs at himself. “And not just cool, but I thought you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“I would look for you in the hallways, I’d watch you sitting alone at lunch, and I’d watch you watch your friends. I thought it was always a bit strange how you never wanted to talk, because I know you have so many brilliant thoughts in your head.”

Your cheeks flush with an unbearable heat, and you express your shyness by squeezing his hand, and he gives you an answering squeeze back.

“I remember when you presented your project and being so enamoured the entire time. I couldn’t help but think about what else you had in that brain of yours. And then I remember thinking after that, that I would read or listen to whatever you came up with.”

“Then the notes started.”

Your breath catches.

“Then I got confused. Because here this person is, telling me how beautiful they think my work is, when I already have the most beautiful thing right in front of me.”

Beautiful. You.

“Hoseok-hyung grilled me so hard after the first time you had ever given me a note.” He chuckles once more. “He had asked me, ‘what are you going to do?’ and I remember saying, ‘I don’t know.’”

He licks his dry lips. “But I knew that I hoped it was you. That you were the one that came up with those sweet words.”

“I was content with watching you, and the flattery of the notes. But then Jungkook ran into you, and I knew my time of spectating was over, because I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to ruin any potential chance I may have had because my best friend was a bit of an idiot.”

You laugh at his words, and you hadn’t noticed you were crying until his free hand had come up and swiped at a stray tear rolling down your hot cheek.

“You were a bit scary to approach I admit, because if you had treated me the way you did Kook, I think I might have cried.” You cackle a bit. 

“But you didn’t and then now here we are, on valentine’s day –”

“Confessing to each other in the hallway.” Your own words made yourself cringe, but you can’t stop the cheek splitting smile that forces its way onto your face.

“Is that what we're doing?” He asks cheekily. “Is that what you want to do?” You bite back playfully.

“It depends on what that note says.”

Oh no.

“Ugh,” You groan, and allow your head to fall forward and land on a surprisingly lean shoulder. “Don’t read it around me please.”

“So that means it’s good.”

“Taehyung!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” A hand comes up to rub at your back comfortingly.

“But not really.”

You take the skin on his side and twist.

“Ow, ow!”

© yoongsriverandme 2025-26

[holnnetd]

Catfisher!König Part 2

Part 1, ..., Part 3, Part 4(I swear it will come. Someday.)

Warning: Suggestive content, brief mentions of pornography, a little misogyny, low-key incel behaviour, a lot of lingerie talk, just two guys being losers, please be 18 or older if you read this, or just don't tell me you're minor, I can't stop you from going anything tbh.

This is only fiction, please remember.

Ding!

Ding!

Ding!

Your phone has been going off for this whole time. It must be extremely important when someone starts sending you messages at 11 pm on a Friday night.

You come out of the shower, hair wrapped in a towel, (unless you don't have hair, in which case idk what to do) and another one around your body.

You got lucky enough to get a dorm on campus with no roommates. Bless god for that scholarship. Dorms are expensive!

Glancing at your phone you check what might be so important, only to see that it's a follow request on your Postagram. (Idk, I'm scared I will get copy righted when I forget that this fic exists)

You open your phone, glancing at the account. The profile pictures shows no face, but a fairly cute cat picture. Whatever.

Alexandria.69 viewed your profile

Alexandria.69 wants to follow you

Alexandria.69 wants to send you a message

That's... A creative name. For sure...

You tap on the icon and glance through the profile. 8 followers from faceless account and following 37 accounts. Mostly singers and political figures.

The only pictures posted is from 2 days ago. It's a selfie from a high angle and a cropped off face in a summer outfit.

Seems to be a new account, maybe she's new to Postagram. Yeah, seems about right.

You tap 'accept' and answer the message she sent. Worst case scenario it's just a scam. What could possibly happen?

Well, that was a dry text for sure...

Whatever. You get a weird feeling about that anyway, 8 faceless accounts is a suspicious smount. You tap off of Postagram and place your phone away to fully dry yourself off.

Yet the black screen on your phone doesn't stay for a long time as you get another,

Ding!

You got a message from Alexandria.69

You turn to glance back at your phone, debating if you want to keep on chatting with this oddly uncanny account.

But you prioritise changing into something more comfortable and plop onto your bed, quickly crawling under the covers before finally deciding to check what she wr-

Ding!

You have 2 unread messages from Alexandria.69

Ah... just as you reached for your phone, too. It's really rude to interrupt the narrat-

Ding!

Layla send a message

Well, at least it's not that strange account anymore. And you open the text from Layla, a close friend, checking what she send.

"Geez! We're having a blast man, you can still come" she texted, then attached a picture of her and 4 other girls from your class, all drinking and probably at the club, guys behind them, hands going to place they'd normally get slapped for touching...

Ever heard of FOMO? Fear of missing out? It's funny how strong it gets, even if you believe to be alright alone.

"Nah, I'm already in bed" you answer, not bothering to go out clubbing tonight.

Ding!

You have 3 unread messages from Alexandria.69

Okay, what the hell does she want?

"We have some mutuals actually 😊"

"You know Layla right?"

"The red head, I mean."

Well, that's attention grabbing.

And with sone hesitation you type back "Layla, yeah", the message being seen immediately. Seems like she doesn't have much else to do but chat with friends of friends, hm?

"She said you're like good with guys?"

A message came back and it baffled you at the boldness. Maybe confused a little.

Uh... that's an interesting comment to make. Good with guys? Is that what your best friends is saying about you to others?

"Well, I guess?"

You tap, thumb hovering over the sent button before pressing it, now interested where this conversation might go.

"It's embarrassing to say"

"but I have issues with talking to boys and uhm, I"

"Uh... could you help me out?"

That's... A little pathetic, but everyone has to start somewhere?

And it's not like you have much better things to do. Your friends are out, getting laid and you are stuck in bed, chatting with a girl that knows your friend?

"I think so?"

"Oh my god, really? Thank you so much!"

That's a little sad, asking a girl you don't know about advise on guys. But girls support girls.

"Do you have a crush?"

"Oh, yes. He's handsome but I don't know how I should make him notice me"

"He says I dress weirdly."

Well, then drop him. Please, have some self respect.

"Alex, sweetie, if he doesn't like how you wear your clothes then don't change for him."

You try to give advice she will find useful, or supportive, pretty oblivious to the fact that Alexandria is actually Alexander. And not just any Alexander.

Alexander Kilgore, the very same classmate that makes snide remarks about your looks.

"Oh come on. Cooperate a little." He gruffs out, tapping on his phone again.

"I know, but I really want him to like me."

"Jeez, needy cunt. You're really doing too much." Rody scoffs, looking at Königs Phone Screen, both of them trying to lure you into a sense of comfort. Well, König wants to do that. Rody is just here to make sure the big guy doesn't fuck up. Which he already did by calling himself Alexandria.69.

Like really? His name but gender swapped and threw in a 69? Please...

"I don't know how to dress up to catch his attention! I want to wear something more revealing."

He writes, instantly getting a hit on the back from Rody. "Jesus, pushy much? No woman straight up texts other women "yeah, I want to fuck him, help me find something to wear so he wants to fuck me too", you uncultured bastard."

König huffs at him, glancing onto his screen as you start typing back.

"Well, if that's really what you want."

You're not going to argue with a stranger about what she wears. It's not like you know her. It's not like you that she's not a her.

"Try wearing something low-cut. Maybe flash your cleavage? You could wear some lingerie under loose clothes and 'accidentally' stretch a little to show it off?"

Alex stares at the message, reading through it several times with huge eyes. That's really what you are telling to a girl on how to grab her crushes attention?

Now he wonders if you're doing that too to grab your crushes attention. "Shit, I knew she's hot, but that's a little freaky." Rody laughs, getting this time a jab from König.

"Lingerie? Which one? I don't know what would look sexy enough. Do you have some recommendations?"

The two guys sit on Königs bed, staring at the phone like two teenage girls writing to a crush.

"Well... Most men like red. But you can't go wrong with white or black, really. I have some red sets."

That send König into a blushing fit. Fucking pathetic. Please, he watches weird hardcore porn but gets flustered when a woman talks about lingerie.

"Oh thank you!"

Rody texts instead, quickly clicking off of Postagram to ensure König don't milk this newly found communication method.

For now, you don't suspect that it's actually a pathetic virgin loser writing as a girl, hoping to get some more information out of you, maybe a picture he can jack off to. God, that would be fucking hot. He wishes to have even a single picture of you, and your posts are too covered!

All while you sit in your bed, confused about the conversation. That was... interesting to say the least. But whatever. Some girls are just awkward, surely theres nothing more to it.

Yeah.

[johanna-swann]

This got a little long and it might sound a little mean at first, but. What exactly does Eddie bring to the table that adds to the bigger picture of the show as a whole?

Disclaimer: If you are a big Eddie fan and/or disagree with me, I am happy to have a civil discussion about this. I mean that, I love debates over fandom stuff. You can comment or drop into my inbox, whatever. Please do keep it civil though and if you could actually read the post before coming at me - that would also be appreciated. I can promise you I'll be nice as long as you are and you won't provoke any sort of reaction out of me other than some polite concern for your mental well being anyway. I pick the fights worth having carefully and if you're just ignorant or aggressive, I'll end up blocking you.

As per usual I'm trying to give my rant a somewhat sensible structure, stay as objective as possible and highlight it when I introduce a new point. Alright, let's go.

Observation number one. The firefamily worked perfectly fine as a found family of 4 in season 1. They were a somewhat dysfunctional family, but that's what made them interesting and they already cared about each other so much, even called themselves a family by episode 3 or 4. The show needed Abby and Athena for their respective perspective as dispatcher/cop, but they weren't integral parts of the firefam (yet).

For Athena that obviously changed quickly when she started hanging out with the 118 more and dating Bobby, they're married now and Athena is no longer just one of Hen's closest friends, she's family to all of them.

Abby didn't leave that big a hole because she was only really connected to Buck and no-one else in the first place. Other characters had scenes with her, but she was always there as Buck's girlfriend. The show needs one main character at dispatch, but that didn't have to be Abby. She was replaceable.

In season 2 we got two new main characters that weren't established members of the found family (yet), kind of like we had Abby and Athena in season 1.

Maddie was immediately connected to Buck of course, but then she also got together with Chimney (another main character) and they became a family as well, she has a handful of lovely scenes with Athena and the Wilson-Han family bonds are stronger now than ever. She is integrated into the firefam, her role as dispatcher is important and she's being played by thee JLH which makes her existence in the show load-bearing and basically irreplaceable.

[Side note: Everybody who has been following me for a bit probably knows I'm not exactly a Maddie fan - personally I wish she was written a little more active than reactive, a little more flawed instead of "crying white woman who suffers more than Jesus Christ himself" (I'm exaggerating to bring across my point) - but objectively speaking I know that Maddie is a perfectly normal character on a show that has much bigger issues and that doesn't change just because I personally find her annyoing. I get why the show needs her and why other fans like her.]

Which makes me ask again though, what does Eddie bring to the table? It's nice to have him, sure. I like all the Diaz family dynamics. I love Christopher. The friendship between Eddie and Buck is amazing. Buck's and Chris' relationship will always be special to me. I like Eddie and his weird ass drama. Does the show need him though?

To go with the "bigger picture" metaphor - it's like the show is one big picture and Eddie is a smaller picture that hangs on the same wall. It has its own frame and exists separately, it can be taken down or to a different floor of the museum without destroying either of the pictures. Walk with me:

On a meta level we just have to be realistic. Ryan Guzman is not a name that will draw a crowd like the names "Jennifer Love Hewitt", "Angela Bassett" or "Peter Krause" do. If people know him at all from previous projects then they'll either know him as Jennifer Lopez' eye candy or as that guy who was in one of those dance movies. (I wanna add here that I actually watched Step Up Miami Heat a few times as a teenager, it's a guilty pleasure movie for me that I come back to every now and then and I didn't even realise it was the same guy until somebody else told me.) So yeah, he's an okay actor and I'm sure he's a nice person (or maybe he's not, idk and idc about the actors that much), but I don't think a lot of people started to watch 911 because they found out their favourite superstar Ryan Guzman was in it.

As for Eddie in his function as a firefighter/army medic: We already have 2 firefighters and we already have 2 paramedics at the 118. Eddie is just extra. No disrespect, but we never needed him the way we need a Maddie to man dispatch or like we need an Athena for the police's perspective. The firefighter/paramedic front was already more than well covered.

So, we don't need him for the actor's star power or the character's unique career, what about personal relationships? Eddie's not particularly close to anyone in the firefam other than Buck whereas everyone else has multiple close connections. His friendship with Bobby is there I guess, but it's only shown in one scene every other season or so. I'd put it in the same category as the Maddie&Athena friendship. Heartwarming and nice to have, not integral to the show though. Nobody watches the show just because they love this friendship in particular so much. Eddie has very casual friendships with Hen and Chimney where they exchange banter or gossip here and there when they all sit in the truck together, but I don't remember many (if any) really meaningful scenes between them. To this day I don't think Eddie ever had scenes with Maddie or Athena at all.

Then there's the fact that next to none of his story lines are connected to the 118. All the other characters have had impactful story lines concerning their job at the 118 itself or their personal drama really involved other main characters. [I got side tracked thinking about this, but I don't want to derail the main train of thought too much here, so I put this part under the cut.*]

The Texas arc, beginning with Kim entering the stage in 7x07 and up until 8x13, only proved once again how disconnected Eddie is from the other main characters.

I don't think anybody except Buck knows what happened between Eddie and Christopher or at least nobody mentioned it. Nobody mentioned the break-up between Eddie and Marisol or Kim's existence either. Not even Eddie really talks about Marisol, nor Kim or Shannon for that matter. He is very focused on his son which, you know, fair enough. But moving to Texas, confronting his parents, stepping up as an actual parental authority again (instead of being a bit of a pushover because he's scared to mess up again) is only treating the symptoms, not the cause. The reason all of this happened in the first place is the Shannon-Marisol-Kim disaster and that hasn't been adressed at all by anyone.

Anyway. None of the other main characters were involved in the love triangle (square?) doppelgänger mess and even Buck took a very passive role here where Eddie told him about what was happening, but he didn't do much. Christopher hasn't interacted with Buck at all in season 8 which feels strange considering he was still willing to talk to Buck immediately after he walked in on Eddie and Kim and Buck was there when Christopher left - all in all they were still very close only one season ago. Now Buck is worried about Eddie, but he doesn't talk about missing Christopher. Not to Eddie or Maddie or Tommy.

Then Eddie moved. He's been in Texas for a while now and Buck has expressed that he misses his best friend, but he doesn't seem to be struggling that much to be honest. Before the move he was mostly upset because it seemed like Eddie didn't care, but they cleared up that misunderstanding. After the move it took him one episode to get over it. In the meantime he's getting closer to Ravi, spends time with his sister, still has fun with his job, settles into his new house - yes, he misses Eddie, it was an adjustment, but he's doing fine without him. They still talk to each other, phones exist. But Buck is okay and nobody else really mentions Eddie.

In comparison: When Chimney left in season 5 to get Maddie back everybody was affected. Eddie suddenly worked medical calls, Hen got snappy with Eddie because they hadn't found their rhythm yet, Buck blamed himself and thought about leaving the 118, Ravi had to step up because he wasn't just the new probie anymore, Bobby had to manage that entire mess and vented to Athena.

Eddie left to get Chris back, Ravi replaced him, even Buck got over it within a single episode. More at eleven. You see the difference?

Conclusion: Eddie is replaceable, you could argue that he doesn't even need replacing since there are still four other main characters working at the 118 who are also all friends with each other. When you pay a little attention it's obvious how disconnected Eddie is from the other characters, even Buck sometimes who shares emotional conversations with Eddie, but isn't always an active participant in Eddie's story lines. I don't like this, I'm not sitting here gloating that "my favourite character is superior", I'm just observing this and it's sad. I usually enjoy Eddie's story lines even when the writing could be better (see Texas arc), I see a lot of potential in his character, I spent the better part of 2023 reading Buddie fanfiction mostly from his perspective. But this insistence that "Eddie completes the firefamily" or that it's "just not the same without him" is more than a little exaggerated. The show is exactly the same without Eddie. It's almost funny how god damn unbothered everybody is by Eddie's absence. How did the Texas arc not make that clear?

*On the career themed story lines:

Chim was feeling like Bobby favours Buck which resulted in a bigger fight, a horrific car crash and the first moment where anybody actually said out loud that the 118 is a familly. He later had his turn as Interim Captain where we saw that while he does have a lot of experience and has been at the 118 the longest, he might not want to be Captain in the long run. As we learn a few seasons later, he could very well be cut out to become an instructor at the academy though, proving leadership qualities in a different way.

Hen had her med school arc and while that didn't lead to anything, it did emphasise and confirm for her that she is exactly where she wants and needs to be. She was also instated as Interim Captain several times which showed that she is Captain material and might take over a station at some point.

Buck was kept from his job and had a whole identity crisis about it in season 3, later "Buck Begins" sort of confirmed that after a lot of searching he found the job that is exactly right for him. In season 6 he was wondering if he could make Captain one day himself and in that season finale got a chance to prove that he can not only work under extreme pressure, he can lead under those same circumstances, too. (It was sadly a very short scene and we haven't seen "potential Captain Buck" since, but the point stands and the idea is out there.)

Bobby had to learn to trust his team so they could trust him in return back in season 1, a theme they also picked up again in "Bobby Begins Again" where he started settling in and making the team into, well, a team instead of just co-workers. We've seen him fighting to stay their Captain both in season 2 and recently in 8a.

Eddie on the other hand quit the 118 during his season 5 breakdown arc, but it wasn't about the job, it was about Chrsitopher. Then he had to extend his time away from active duty because of his ptsd. He never thinks about advancing in his career (everybody else either was Interim Captain at one point or at least showed interest in it) or tries anything else unless he sees himself forced to do it for Christopher. I don't think he even is officially a paramedic. Similar to Hen's med school arc it probably wouldn't really change anything because he's usually paired with Buck and he already (occasionally) works medical calls anyway, but (similar to Hen's med school arc) it would at least give him something to do and show that he is generally invested in his career. I haven't seen "Eddie Begins" in a while, but does that episode give us a moment where Eddie truly finds his calling as a firefighter like the others did? I don't think so, we just got two lines or so about "missing the camaraderie, seemed worth the shot" in season 2.

On to the "personal" stuff. Do any of Eddie's big story lines have any impact on the firefam?

Eddie's love life is a mess. Season 2 was all about Shannon and their marriage and the others gossiped a little about it, but what difference does it make to the firefam who Eddie is dating? None of Eddie's love interests ever have any connection to the other family members whereas the other couples are a) both main characters or b) in Buck's case do often have connections to the others. Abby was a main character who wasn't close to the 118, but still shared a lot of scenes with them. Taylor showed up on calls, had her own story lines when she investigated stuff, asked Bobby about Christmas presents, had dinners with Buck that involved other characters like Albert or Eddie. Tommy of course was good friends with Eddie and Chim, but also acquainted with Bobby, Athena and Hen. Even Veronica who only had one date with Buck then turned out to be his neighbour and dated Albert for a while.

Other than Buck I don't think anybody ever really had scenes with Eddie's love interests and even Buck barely met those women as far as I remember. Eddie talks about Ana and Marisol, sure, but do they interact with Buck much?

Then Eddie of course has story lines about being a (single) father, but somehow he always ends up talking to Buck about this instead of literally any of his friends who actually have children of their own. Denny and Harry are shown to be friends, but despite being about Denny's age, Christopher doesn't have scenes with them outside of that one season 3 Christmas episode. Only Buck ever babysits Christopher for Eddie. Recently even Buck hasn't had anything to do with Chris. He coached Eddie through some parenting decisions, but he doesn't have contact to Chris at all. Neither Chris nor Buck express that they miss each other or anything.

There's Eddie's fight club era which ended after one heart to heart with Bobby, but mostly affected his and Lena's friendship who, again, is a character who was Eddie's friend but barely had scenes with the other mains. This is connected to the fight he had with Buck of course, but while Buck's absence and the lawsuit impacted the entire family who picked sides or felt the tension in the firehouse, Eddie's personal issues with Buck are between the two of them. There are raised eye brows during that supermarket fight, but that's it.

He had the shooting story line and while the other characters worried about Eddie of course, it was Buck who was with him when it happened, Buck who took care of Christopher, Buck who rushed to the hospital when Eddie woke up, Buck who picked him up from the hospital and had a heart to heart with him, etc. The other characters existed in the vicinity of this story line, but only Buck was really in it with Eddie. Compare that to when Buck was struck by lightning. Every single main character had emotional scenes with Buck in that story line.

Eddie eventually started dating again and, once more, this was casual gossip fodder in the firehouse, but it was Eddie's aunt who had an actual, serious conversation with him.

The season 7 stuff is part of the Texas story line for me, so I'm not getting into that again.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Seven Minutes in Heaven (Chapter Two)

F!Reader x Gojo Satoru

Previous Chapter 1 (Tumblr/Ao3)

Summary: It was supposed to be a normal frat party. Just a stupid game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Just him, king of never taking anything seriously, getting shoved into a closet for a dumb dare. And yet. Now, he can’t sleep. Can’t think. Can’t stop thinking about you. And one by one, his friends are starting to realize—Whatever happened in that closet? It never really ended.

Outside in the garden, Toji mocked. "Man got a straight-up haunted hard-on."

"Wait, wait, wait," Sukuna wheezed. "Tell me why bro just made out with a ghost so hard he got a fucking boner."

"Can we not call it that?" Satoru groaned.

"That’s exactly what it was," Hiromi confirmed, shaking his head. "You got seduced by a fucking spirit."

Shiu, lying on the grass scrolling through his phone, barely looked up as he added, "Even in the afterlife, women aren’t safe from your dick preceding your reputation."

"I'm gonna kill myself," Satoru muttered, running a hand down his face.

"Ghost girl might be into that," Choso said thoughtfully, sipping a beer.

"Yo, shut the fuck up," Satoru snapped.

"You were rock hard for a literal corpse." Shoko was almost rolling in the grass, clutching her bottle.

"FOR THE LAST TIME, I DIDN’T KNOW SHE WAS A GHOST!"

"And yet," Suguru drawled, gesturing vaguely at the still-very-visible problem in his jeans.

Satoru made a strangled noise, willing his soul to leave his body.

“If I see your haunted dick in my nightmares, I’m suing." Yuki yelled.

"I have hater friends. At least she thought I was beautiful." Satoru smirked.

A collective groan echoed through the garden.

Kento dragged a hand down his face. "I hate him. I hate him."

"Fucker just got ghosted in every sense of the word, and he still has the audacity to make it about his looks." Kashimo jeered, leaning on Haibara, who was barely holding himself up.

"Kill yourself," Sukuna muttered.

"Honestly, yeah," Hiromi agreed.

Satoru just grinned. "Jealous much?"

Suguru physically sighed. "Let's go, you delusional horny disaster."

---

Satoru couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Not the way your lips had felt against his, or how you made him laugh, or how you got flustered easily but still kissed him first like a paradox he couldn’t solve—though that haunted him, too.

No, it was the way you had looked at him.

Like you had been starving.

So, Satoru did what any rational person would do.

He spent an unhealthy amount of time at the library.

Gojo Satoru. At the library. Voluntarily. His friends thought he was having a crisis.

At first, there was nothing.

No students matching your description in the recent records.

No tragic accidents or ghost stories written in the university archives.

It was like you had never existed.

But then—

One night, while flipping through the school’s oldest records, something caught his eye.

An envelope stuffed with papers.

He pulled out a diary first.

Diary of Miss L/N

(Archivist - Leather-bound, gold-embossed. Found in the ruins of the university, its final pages splattered with what appears to be dried tears. Handwritten, ink fading in places. Some pages torn. Final entries nearly illegible—written in a shaking hand, desperate and uneven.)

January 3, 1914

There is a new litter of kittens in the old courtyard! I counted five, all squirming and mewling, their mother, a thin little thing who watches me with wary eyes. I left some bread soaked in milk, though I do not think she trusts me yet. Perhaps if I sit quietly tomorrow, she will let me closer.

(If I were a cat, would I be loved more easily?)

The groundskeeper scolded me, said I am too soft-hearted, that I let animals take advantage of me. As if a kitten could be cunning! I told him there is no harm in kindness. He only shook his head.

Satoru sat back, staring at the first entry, his thumb tracing your handwriting. He didn’t know much about you—hell, he didn’t even know you were alive a hundred years ago—but he could picture you, kneeling in the courtyard with kittens, trying to be kind. He imagined the faintest smile tugging at your lips when you saw them squirming in the dirt. The idea of you feeding a stray mother cat made his chest tighten in an odd, unfamiliar way. He ran his fingers along the edge of the paper, almost as if trying to feel your presence through it.

That groundskeeper? He was an idiot. He didn't get it. Satoru couldn't help but feel a spark of frustration. You didn’t need anyone’s permission to be kind. He almost laughed at the idea that someone might scold you for being soft-hearted. If anything, he wished he could go back and tell you not to worry about those around you. He would’ve probably looked at you the same way—the way he did when you kissed him, not knowing why or how, but unable to stop himself from caring just a little too much for someone so—soft.

January 10, 1914

I do not think they like me.

Not in the way they like each other.

They are polite, of course. They smile. They call me ‘Miss L/N’ with syrupy sweetness, but their eyes flicker. I see the way their lips press together when I speak. The way their laughter dies when I enter a room.

But it is alright. Not everyone has to like me.

I just wish they did not hate me, either.

Satoru skimmed the next entry, his eyes narrowing. You were already noticing the tension in the air, weren’t you? The polite smiles, the murmurs. The fake sweetness they showed you—he could practically hear the insincerity in their voices. He frowned, shaking his head. You didn’t deserve that. Nobody should ever make someone feel like they didn’t belong.

For some reason, even though you were long gone, he found himself angry on your behalf. He didn’t understand why they treated you that way. You were probably just too good for them, weren’t you? Too pure, too gentle. He shook the thought off, the sharpness of the moment still biting at him. It made him wonder if maybe he would’ve been one of the few who would’ve actually liked you.

January 25, 1913

Viscount Salvatore looked at me today. He did not merely glance—he looked. I was in the library, carrying too many books, and he leaned back in his chair, all effortless indifference, and drawled, "Planning to read all of those, Miss L/N? Or are you building a fort?"

(He thinks I am ridiculous.)

(He noticed me.)

I almost dropped Wuthering Heights on my foot.

A frown burrowed on Satoru’s face when he read about Viscount Salvatore. You noticed him. He noticed you.

He flipped your yearbook with his other hand to find any Salvtores; there had been two in your class who’d gone to become Army officials in the first World War and then died there. Your description fit the blue-eyed one with a cocky smirk. Like Satoru? Did you have a type?

He felt a slight sting in his chest at the thought of this Viscount—some guy who probably had no idea what to do with someone like you. Still, he couldn’t suppress the bitter taste in his mouth. Jealousy? Was that what this was?

A sigh slipped from his lips. It was stupid—he was more than a hundred years too late. He didn’t even know if you’d ever seen him the way he now imagined you looking at the Viscount. The thought of another guy noticing you—really noticing you—made him want to jump from a boat. But instead, he read on.

February 2, 1914

It was a joke. Just a prank.

"She'll cry and beg to be let out," one of them whispered, giggling behind her lace glove. "Let's see if Miss Perfect is still so polite in the dark."

The door slammed. The lock clicked.

The dark swallowed me whole.

I did not beg.

I bit my tongue until I tasted iron and waited. And when they let me out—smirking, triumphant—I smoothed my skirts, fixed my hair, and walked past them as if I had not spent the last hour choking on the thick, dusty air.

They did not like that.

"A little too perfect, isn’t she?"

(They will do it again.)

Satoru’s eyebrows furrowed as his gaze lingered on the next entry. You were trapped. Locked in a closet by the very people you probably thought were your friends. It was sickening. He almost couldn't finish reading—his stomach lurched with disgust. The way you didn't beg... it said so much about you. You must’ve been used to pain by then, used to being pushed aside and ignored. But still—you walked out of there like nothing had happened, like you didn’t carry the weight of what they had just done to you.

Satoru shook his head, muttering to himself, “Cowards. All of them.” He clenched the paper tighter in his hand. He hated the idea of you facing that kind of cruelty alone, without anyone there to stop it. He could feel it—your loneliness, your frustration, your unwillingness to break. And somehow, it only made him want to be there for you more. He'd never admit it, but there was a strange urge within him to make it right—even if it was a century too late.

February 10, 1914

Today, I found a sparrow with a broken wing. I named him Edgar (after Poe, of course).

I should have left him alone. Mother says I should not dirty my hands with such things. But he was shivering—how could I leave him?

Viscount Salvatore saw me, kneeling in the grass, my gloves stained with dirt. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Then, just as he passed, he murmured, "Don’t name it. You’ll only make it harder."

He has such an awful way of speaking. Always so practical. So cold.

(He was right. Edgar did not make it through the night.)

Satoru didn’t expect to feel as deeply affected by this entry. You found a broken bird and tried to help it. Just like the kittens. Just like everything else. He read about the sparrow, Edgar, and that bitter, practical remark from Viscount Salvatore.

He rolled his eyes. That guy was cold, wasn’t he? It was almost like he couldn't even understand that you just wanted to do something kind. His jaw clenched slightly at the thought of this Viscount, cold and indifferent. Did he not understand the pain of losing something you tried so desperately to save?

“You deserved better than that.” Satoru muttered quietly to himself. He could barely comprehend it, but it stung to think of you, caring for something so fragile, and yet not having anyone there to help you when you needed it most. He could almost hear the sadness in your voice, like you were speaking not just about the bird, but about yourself.

February 13, 1914

Razor blades in my book bag today.

I did not see them in time.

A sharp sting—red seeping into my gloves, blooming against the pale silk like a dying rose.

A girl gasped.

One of them. The one who used to call me her friend.

She reached for me, hesitated. Opened her mouth—closed it.

Did nothing.

(They are all cowards.)

I smiled at her anyway.

(It is getting harder to smile.)

The entry made Satoru stop in his tracks. Razor blades? What the hell...? He had to reread the paragraph twice, the sharpness of the words sinking into him with every line. It was hard to stomach—knowing that someone, one of the people who had once called you their friend, did this to you. Left you bleeding and didn’t even care.

He felt a fire burning in his chest now, a rage that was foreign to him. A strange protectiveness, something darker, almost suffocating. He didn't know how you had kept going through all this. And yet, you had. You smiled through it all, even when everything in the world was trying to break you.

Satoru stood up suddenly, pacing around the room. He was aware of how ridiculous this was—he didn’t even know you. But damn it, you deserved someone who would’ve fought for you. Someone who would’ve taken those blades from your hands and never let you feel alone.

February 14, 1914

Viscount Salvatore pulled out a chair for me today.

The smallest thing. A flick of his wrist. A glance in my direction. A murmured, "Miss L/N."

But I have not been spoken to kindly in so long.

For a moment, my eyes burned. My throat ached.

But I said nothing. I only sat.

And when I looked up—just for a second—he was already watching me.

(What a strange, strange man.)

Satoru’s fingers lightly brushed over the paper. He didn’t know what it was, but something about that entry—Viscount Salvatore pulling out a chair for you—made him pause. He didn't react outwardly, keeping his face carefully blank, but internally? There was a slight stir of discomfort. It was such a small, insignificant thing, yet it meant so much to you. A simple gesture, something that should’ve been normal.

He imagined the quiet moment, your surprise. The thought that such a little thing could make you feel seen, even for a second, gnawed at him. A frustrated sigh left his lips. Why did it have to be like that? If he were there—if only he were there, he would’ve shown you kindness, not just with gestures, but with actions. But that was a thought he quickly pushed aside, frustrated by how much time had slipped through his fingers. He kept reading, though.

February 20, 1914

I have decided. I loathe Viscount Salvatore.

He is insufferable. He speaks in riddles and always looks as if he is laughing at me. I do not know why I bother thinking of him.

(He held the door open for me today. Said nothing. Just waited.)

(I hate him.)

A faint chuckle escaped his lips as he read the next entry. You’d decided to loathe Viscount Salvatore now. "Insufferable," you called him. Satoru almost wanted to agree, though he couldn't completely share your sentiment. He had a feeling there was more to him—more that was left unsaid. Still, it was a funny thought. Viscount Salvatore being that frustrating, mysterious figure. Satoru was intrigued by how you wrote about him with such sharpness, but the words seemed like a cover for something deeper. He wasn’t sure what, but the tension between you two was palpable.

“Is it really that bad?” he muttered, flipping the page, knowing he wasn’t going to get an answer. He felt a flicker of something, but the rest of the entry, especially with the way he “held the door open,” left him feeling... unsure. He wasn't exactly proud of it, but maybe there was some part of him that didn't want you to find comfort in anyone else.

March 2, 1914

I found a dead rat in my desk.

Its body bloated, eyes staring.

Its tiny mouth open, frozen in a silent scream.

There was a note pinned to its belly. Still feeling generous?

I swallowed back the nausea and took it outside myself.

(It is getting harder to breathe here.)

Satoru’s expression hardened as he read about the dead rat in your desk. He closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to focus. The cruel games they played—it disgusted him. He could almost feel the sickening weight of it, as if it were happening right there, in front of him. Who does that? He set the paper down and ran his hand through his hair, trying to keep his composure, though his jaw was tight.

You didn’t even flinch. You simply took it outside. There was an odd kind of resolve in the way you wrote that. No begging. No breaking down. Just... handling it yourself. It made him uneasy—how much you had to endure, and how little anyone had cared. He couldn’t imagine what you went through, not yet, but the pieces were starting to come together. The cruelty. The silence. The isolation.

June 20, 1914

I am tired.

No, not tired. Weary.

I wake up with my body braced, waiting for something—waiting for the next whisper, the next cruel trick, the next unseen hand that will shove me down the stairs when no one is looking.

I have not eaten all day.

(They will not break me.)

The word “weary” hit Satoru like a punch to the gut. He could picture you, slumped in exhaustion, never having the chance to recover. He could almost hear the quiet panic that sat beneath those words. The next cruel trick, the next shove—it was too much. His hand tightened around the paper as he read on.

He didn’t need to know everything to understand that what you were going through wasn’t just physical. It was something deeper. Something that made your bones ache and your heart heavy. And yet, here you were, still breathing, still defiant. He let out a breath, annoyed at the powerlessness he felt just from reading your words.

July 24, 1914

I am going to the party.

They said they want to start over. That it was all just foolish jealousy. That they want to be friends.

I should not believe them.

I know I should not believe them.

But I am so, so tired of being alone.

Just for one night, I want to pretend I belong.

Satoru frowned, eyes narrowing. The truth was already in your words before you even said it. He felt an odd mix of sympathy and frustration as you told yourself you were going to the party—hoping, wishing to belong, even for just one night. He had to read that part again, swallowing a lump in his throat.

He flipped the page; the diary ended. Satoru immediately scrambled to pull out another stack of papers from the binder.

Final Entries – Found Scribbled in the Dark on Stationary available inside the closet

(Archivist - Stray pages, ink smudged. Words scratched over and rewritten as if she could not make her fingers hold steady.)

July 25, 1914

They lied.

Of course they lied.

The music was loud. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and laughter. For the first time in years, I thought—maybe.

Then hands.

Grabbing. Dragging.

"Let’s see how perfect you are now."

They locked me inside.

A closet. Small. Cramped.

The door will not open.

It has been hours.

(Or has it? I can’t tell.)

No one is coming.

The change in tone was abrupt, and Satoru’s pulse quickened as he read about the party. He could feel the shift, the claustrophobia, the betrayal seeping through the paper. The scribbled words—he could almost hear you gasping for air, trapped in that small closet.

“They lied.” That one line stung. It was so raw. He couldn’t make sense of it. He couldn’t make it right. But he had to know—he had to understand why you were forgotten. He had to keep reading, even if it made his heart feel like it was crumbling under the weight.

???, 1914

How many hours has it been?

They will come back.

They must come back.

Please, please, please—

My throat aches.

I screamed until my throat bled.

No one heard.

No one wants to hear.

(They have forgotten me.)

Satoru’s hands clenched around the papers. They had broken you in ways that even time couldn’t erase. And he could do nothing. He gritted his teeth, struggling to stay composed, but it was impossible to ignore the ache that had settled in his chest. You’d screamed until your throat bled, and they had... forgotten you.

Satoru sat with his elbows on the desk, his fingers steepled against his lips as he read the next entries. He was quiet now, the usual restless energy in his body drained away, leaving only a tense stillness. The words on the page felt heavier with each line.

???, 1914

I am thirsty.

I am so thirsty.

If I press my ear against the door, I can hear the music.

(Another party?)

They are still dancing.

They are still laughing.

They are still living.

And I am here.

Satoru’s throat felt tight. He swallowed against it, as if somehow that would make up for the dryness that must have burned through yours. He could picture it too clearly—the way your lips must have cracked, your voice reduced to a rasp.

And yet, they were still dancing.

Satoru exhaled sharply. You were still there, forgotten, while life carried on just outside the door. The thought made him nauseous.

His fingers flexed against the paper. If I had been there... But he hadn’t been. No one had. That was the entire tragedy of it.

???, 1914

It is quiet.

No music. No voices.

Something has happened.

Why won’t anyone come?

Satoru’s breath slowed. You didn’t know. You had no idea that while you were trapped in that suffocating darkness, the world outside had shifted.

They left.

No one had opened the door. No one had checked. It wasn’t even malice at this point—it was worse. It was indifference.

His jaw clenched. You weren’t even aware that the world had moved on without you. You were just waiting. Waiting for a help that would never come.

July 28, 1914

Sirens.

War.

The halls are empty.

They have all gone home.

No one remembers I am here.

No one remembers at all.

Sirens. The first world war. The absence. His hand trembled. The emptiness of the halls. You had been forgotten amidst the chaos, the madness of the world falling apart. He hated the feeling of it. The helplessness. The way everything—everything—slipped away, leaving only that quiet, sickening silence. He muttered a curse under his breath, feeling a heavy weight in his stomach.

You had been alone. And it wasn’t just the physical isolation. It was the fact that no one even cared enough to remember you.

???, 1914

(Archivist - The ink is uneven, pressed too hard into the paper—her hand must have been shaking.)

I dreamed of Viscount Salvatore.

He pulled out a chair for me again.

Only this time, when I sat, he turned to me and said, "I see you."

I woke up crying.

(He will not remember me either.)

Viscount Salvatore was back in your dreams. And now, Satoru was reading about how you woke up crying. He shook his head slowly, his eyes closing briefly. Even in your lonely moments, he was there, haunting you—both a comfort and a torment. He could almost see it in his mind, the way Viscount Salvatore's distant gaze would have held some measure of regret, maybe even longing. But none of that would ever matter now.

“Damn it,” Satoru cursed under his breath. He didn't even know what he was mad at—himself, the Viscount, or fate. The whole damn situation. You didn’t deserve any of it.

???, 1914

There is no light.

I am afraid to sleep. Afraid I will wake up and it will still be dark. Afraid I won’t wake up at all.

I think I can hear something scratching. Or maybe it is just my own heartbeat.

Satoru shut his eyes for a brief second. That sentence—it was worse than the others. It wasn't just physical anymore. It wasn’t just being locked inside. It was the fear creeping in.

Afraid to sleep. Afraid to wake up and still be in the dark. Afraid to never wake up at all.

He felt sick. You weren’t even sure if you existed anymore. If you were real.

He let his head drop forward slightly, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. It was just a diary. Just words. So why did it feel like they were clawing at something inside of him?

???, 1914

I had a Mother?

Satoru’s eyes flicked back to the page, scanning the sentence again.

His stomach twisted.

You were unraveling.

That was what this was. Not just hunger. Not just thirst. Your mind was fraying at the edges, breaking apart piece by piece.

He shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable, a strange, suffocating weight settling in his chest. You had been alone for so long that even memories were slipping away.

You were forgetting yourself.

???, 1914

I dreamed of the kittens.

They were hungry. So was I.

I woke up biting my sleeve.

Satoru closed his eyes again. That dream—it wasn’t just a memory. It was your body crying out, pulling at whatever fragments of warmth it could find.

And when you woke up, you were biting your sleeve.

His lips pressed into a tight line. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to picture you curled up in the dark, trying to trick yourself into feeling full.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing hard.

???, 1914

I have started whispering my own name.

I am afraid I will forget it.

Satoru blinked. The words blurred for a second before coming back into focus.

You were losing yourself. The last thing you had—the only thing left. Your own name. And even that was slipping.

His grip on the paper was too tight now. He forced himself to relax his fingers before he crumpled it.

You had been so, so alone.

???, 1914

I do not want to die like this.

I do not want to die in the dark.

Satoru’s shoulders tensed, but he forced himself to read it again.

You knew. By then, you knew.

It was no longer just fear. It was a final, quiet understanding.

Satoru’s hand came up, fingers pressing lightly against his temple. He had read countless things in his life—reports, records, confessions. But this?

This was someone—you—begging the universe for something it had already denied you.

???, 1914

Did he ever think of me?

Did Viscount Salvatore ever notice that I was gone?

(I am so, so cold.)

???, 1914

I can hear it raining.

There is no hunger anymore.

No thirst.

Just cold.

So, so cold.

???, ????

(Archivist - Final entry. Ink smeared, nearly unreadable.)

If someone finds this—Please—Please remember me.

Satoru didn’t move.

He stared at the words, his vision blurring for a moment before sharpening again.

His throat felt tight.

His grip on the page softened, and he slowly, carefully, set it down.

Satoru wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with this—this aching, gnawing thing in his chest. He didn’t have the words for it. But as he reached for the next stack of papers.

Newspaper Articles

(Archivist - Yellowed clippings, brittle at the edges. No one speaks of her anymore.)

DAUGHTER OF L/N FAMILY MISSING – UNIVERSITY REFUSES COMMENT (July 27, 1914)

Miss L/N, the only daughter of the esteemed L/N family, has been reported missing for over a week. The university has declined to comment, insisting that Miss L/N likely departed of her own volition.

Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. L/N, have offered a sizable reward for any information regarding her whereabouts.

SEARCH FOR MISSING HEIRESS ENDS IN TRAGEDY – PARENTS DECLARED DEAD (December 3, 1916)

After two years of relentless searching, Mr. and Mrs. L/N have perished under tragic circumstances. Their estate, heavily in debt from the investigation, is to be auctioned off.

Miss L/N’s disappearance remains unsolved.

RENOVATIONS UNCOVER HIDDEN CLOSET – HUMAN REMAINS FOUND (March 5, 1957)

Construction teams working on university renovations discovered a sealed-off closet in the west wing. Inside, they found skeletal remains, still clad in a deteriorated silk gown. A diary was found nearby, though much of its ink had faded with time. Officials report that the identity of the remains is unknown, as no records exist of any missing student matching the description.

No further investigation is planned.

THE DAILY GAZETTE

Est. 1896

Thursday, March 7, 1957

PRICE: 10 CENTS

MYSTERY OF THE FORGOTTEN GIRL: REMAINS DISCOVERED IN UNIVERSITY WALLS

Renovation Workers Uncover Skeleton, Raising Chilling Questions About the Past

By George L. Whitmore

SHIZUKA CITY—A routine renovation at one of the country’s most prestigious universities took a macabre turn last week when construction workers stumbled upon a hidden closet sealed within the walls of the East Wing. Inside, they found the skeletal remains of a young woman, her body curled as if she had simply lain down and never risen again. The discovery has sent shockwaves through the academic community, raising unsettling questions about how she came to be there—and why no one ever looked for her.

The identity of the deceased remains unknown. No records exist of a missing student from the time period estimated by forensic specialists—likely the early 20th century. But one thing is certain: she was left there. Forgotten.

A Name Erased

The East Wing, once a grand structure funded by old money and aristocratic influence, had been largely abandoned for decades before renovations began last fall. The university, now bearing the Gojo family name, was once under the patronage of another dynasty—one that, curiously, has all but vanished from historical record.

Researchers digging into archived documents found faint traces of a once-powerful benefactor: the L/N family. According to a 1907 university registry, the L/Ns were among the wealthiest patrons of the institution. From Arms dealings, their contributions were responsible for much of its early expansion. And yet, no descendants remain. No estate. No legacy.

A mere decade after their peak, the family seems to have disappeared altogether. Their name erased. Their wealth scattered.

And now, this girl—the girl in the closet.

A Harmless Prank Gone Horribly Wrong?

The discovery has sparked whispered theories among university staff and alumni. Some recall long-forgotten stories, rumors passed down like ghost stories in dormitory halls. Stories of a girl. Beautiful. Intelligent. Kind. Too kind.

“She was perfect, too perfect,” said one retired professor, who wished to remain anonymous. “People resented her for it. The way the faculty admired her. The way she carried herself. There were whispers, of course—ugly, jealous things. But back then, the school was different. There were rules about what could and could not be spoken aloud.”

While no official reports exist of bullying, former students who attended in the early 1900s recall the cruel pranks that were common among the elite circles of the time. Stolen books. Torn dresses. Whispered mockeries disguised as etiquette lessons.

Then there was the incident at a party—a party that took place just before the world changed forever.

“She went missing that night,” said another source, a woman in her seventies who had attended the university in the years following the First World War. “There were rumors, of course. But no one ever spoke of it directly. And then the war came, and everything was forgotten. Just like that.”

What started as a childish prank—locking a girl in a storage closet—became something else entirely when the world was plunged into chaos. Sirens screamed. Students fled. The university shut its doors. And no one, not a single soul, remembered to let her out.

A Legacy Stolen by Time

The timing is chilling. The L/N family vanished not long after. Their once-glorious estate burned to the ground under mysterious circumstances. With their wealth depleted in a desperate search for their missing daughter, they faded into obscurity, lost to history. Meanwhile, the university found a new patron—one with deeper pockets, stronger influence. The Gojo family.

“Nothing stays empty for long,” remarked historian Dr. Henry Carrington. “Power abhors a vacuum. One name disappears; another takes its place. That’s how history works. The question is whether it was simply fate... or something more deliberate.”

What Comes Next?

For now, the remains of the forgotten girl lie in the care of forensic specialists, who will attempt to identify her and, perhaps, grant her the dignity she was denied in life. The university has yet to release an official statement, though sources indicate there are plans to memorialize the discovery.

Still, the air remains heavy with unspoken truths. A legacy buried beneath floorboards. A name erased. A girl left to die in the dark, her existence fading from memory even as the institution she was meant to inherit flourished without her.

And now, decades later, she has returned. Not as a scholar. Not as an heir.

But as a skeleton in the walls of a university that no longer remembers her name.

Satoru understood what had happened.

---

1914

The first time they locked you inside, it was supposed to be a joke. A harmless prank.

“You’ll cry and beg to be let out,” one of them whispered, a cruel giggle curling around her words as she hid her smirk behind a lace-gloved hand. “Let’s see if Miss Perfect is still so polite in the dark.”

You cried.

But you didn’t beg.

Not that night.

Not yet.

It didn’t surprise you. You’d always known people resented you. You were the only child of the L/N family—their legacy was carved in the very stone of the university. Wealth, power, influence, all wrapped in a name that commanded respect. Your family had funded these halls, shaped them. Built them.

And you were meant to carry that weight forward, to live up to expectations that came with being the heir of such a name. You studied hard, spoke softly, helped others without a second thought. You tried to meet the world with grace.

But you had made one mistake.

You were kind. Too kind.

You didn’t wear your last name like armor. You didn’t command respect with a gaze sharp enough to cut or a voice cold enough to freeze. You didn’t move like royalty among commoners. You spoke gently, smiled too much, helped without expecting anything in return.

And that, apparently, was enough to make them hate you.

They called you perfect. A fraud wrapped in silk and sweetness. A girl born to wealth, yet untouched by cruelty. It made them sick to their stomachs. They told themselves your kindness was a mask. That you were pretending. That behind your soft smile, you looked down on them.

The whispers slithered through the hallways, filled every corner of every dormitory, echoed between the benches in lecture halls. “She must think she’s better than us.” The rumors crept, fed by jealousy and disdain, each one sinking deeper, until they made it their mission to tear you down.

It started small. Stolen assignments. Ink spilled all over your uniform. Books knocked from your arms as you passed, their laughter trailing behind you like a shadow.

But then the pranks grew worse. Razor blades slipped into the lining of your bag, waiting to slice your fingers. Your tea, laced with ink, stained your lips and tongue black for hours. Dead rats left in your desk drawers, bloated and stinking, their decaying bodies a cruel reminder of their hatred.

You had friends—or you thought you did. But when you looked to them, their smiles faltered. They said nothing. Did nothing. They looked away.

So, you endured it all alone.

Then came the night of the party.

You hadn’t wanted to go. But one of the girls, the one you still foolishly believed to be a friend, begged you. She said everyone wanted to start over, that they regretted their childish jealousy and were ready to put it behind them.

You wanted to believe it. You wanted so badly to believe that people could change, that cruelty wasn’t the default. You wanted to believe that if you just endured long enough, they would see you for who you really were.

So, you went.

The music was loud, thick with the beat of drums and the pulse of electric guitars. The air was heavy with smoke, alcohol, and the scent of youth gone wild. Laughter rang out, spinning around you as people twirled under lantern light. For the first time in years, you thought maybe—just maybe—you weren’t so alone after all.

But then, hands grabbed you.

They pulled you, dragged you away from the laughter, from the light, down the dim hallway that felt colder with every step. You struggled, but there were too many of them. Nails dug into your skin, and their breath reeked of whiskey and sweat.

They laughed. “Let’s see how perfect you are now.”

The closet was small. Cramped. A tiny, forgotten storage room in the corner of the building, filled with old books and dusty supplies. They shoved you inside.

You stumbled, tripping over the rough wooden floor, your hands scraping against the splintered walls. The door slammed behind you, the sound of the lock clicking echoing in your chest. You barely had time to press yourself against the door before it shut you in complete darkness.

“Let’s see how sweet you are after this,” they jeered, and then they were gone.

At first, you thought it was a joke. Any second now, they would open the door, laughing, saying it was just a prank. The music outside was still loud. The sounds of celebration filled your ears, muffling your screams and your frantic banging against the door.

They would let you out.

Of course, they would.

Wouldn’t they?

You banged harder. Screamed louder.

But no one came.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. Two.

Your fists were raw, your throat burned from the screams, but still, nothing.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep. When you woke up, your mouth was dry, your body stiff and cold. You were still in your party dress, but your shoes were gone. You had lost them somewhere, in the chaos of being dragged.

You banged again. Screamed louder.

Nothing.

More hours passed. Maybe a day. You tried to count the time, but it blurred. The darkness stole all sense of it.

Then, one night—though you couldn’t tell if it was day or night anymore—something changed.

The university went silent.

The once-bustling halls were empty. The voices, the laughter, the music—gone.

In the distance, you heard sirens. A sound that felt like the last thread of the world unraveling.

The world was at war.

Overnight, everything collapsed. Students fled. Professors disappeared. The university shut down.

And no one, not a single soul, remembered that you were still locked in that closet.

The hunger was unbearable at first. You pressed your hands against your stomach as it twisted in agony, but after a while, even hunger faded into the background. The thirst, however, never left. Your lips cracked, your throat burned, your vision swam.

But you were too weak to scream now.

At some point, you stopped feeling anything at all.

No one remembered the girl in the closet.

Days passed. Maybe weeks. Maybe months.

But in the end, it didn’t matter.

There was only silence.

When they finally reopened that part of the university—years, maybe decades later, during renovations—the workers found a hidden closet behind the walls. They found a skeleton, still curled on the floor, clutching the remains of a tattered dress.

No one knew who you were. Your records were gone.

The L/N family was erased from history.

Your parents had searched for you. Desperately. They spent every penny, called in every favor, tore the world apart looking for their only child.

But war doesn’t care for grieving parents.

They died before they could uncover the truth. Your home burned. And with them, the name that had once shaped this university disappeared from the records.

The buildings once funded by your family were renamed. The university you were supposed to inherit now bore another family’s name.

The Gojo family.

And you?

You had simply ceased to exist.

---

Present Day

Satoru stared at the newspaper article in his hands, the words blurring as his chest tightened. It felt like someone had reached into him, squeezing the air from his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. His vision wavered, the paper in his hands turning into nothing more than a smear of ink and empty noise.

He had spent the entire night digging. Searching. Prying through the layers of forgotten history no one had cared to remember. And now—

Now, he wished he hadn’t.

His chest ached. His stomach churned with the weight of it. He hadn’t expected to find this. He hadn’t expected to feel the crushing blow of reality, the terrible, suffocating guilt that twisted through him like a knife.

You had smiled at him.

how your fingers had trembled in his hands, how your wide, nervous eyes had held so much uncertainty, yet a quiet hope. And when you kissed him, your lips soft and warm against his, it had been the kind of kiss that felt like it was long overdue—like you’d been waiting a lifetime for someone to touch you.

And now he knew why.

You had been waiting for a hundred years.

A hundred years of silence. A hundred years of darkness. A hundred years of loneliness so deep it suffocated you, a cruel weight on your chest that no one had ever bothered to lift.

He thought about the closet. The cramped, suffocating space. The darkness. The silence that stretched on for years, unbroken. The pain of realizing no one was coming, no one cared.

The students who had shoved you inside. The laughter as they walked away, their voices fading into the distance while you were left to rot alone in a forgotten corner of the university. The friends who had seen it happen and did nothing. The ones who had turned their backs when you needed them most.

Satoru’s chest tightened further, a sharp pain stabbing through him. His teeth ground together, his jaw clenched so tight it felt like it might crack. His hands shook, trembled violently, as if they could somehow undo what had been done, erase the horror of it all.

He wanted to break something. Throw something. Tear through this cursed world and go back, back to that night, back to when he could’ve stopped it. To rip open that damn door and pull you into his arms, to tell you that you were never alone. That he would have fought for you. That someone—anyone—should have fought for you.

But it was too late.

One hundred years too late.

He sucked in a shaky breath, but it didn’t help. His lungs felt tight, and his throat closed up, like something was blocking the air. His hands shook as he traced the edges of the photograph in front of him. A group of students stood there, stiff and formal, their faces solemn in that black-and-white world of the early 1900s. They were so... distant. Detached. Like they were living in a world completely untouched by joy, by life.

And then there was you.

At the edge of the group, standing out like a ghost, yet so very present. Your soft features. Your gentle eyes. Your delicate, hopeful expression that somehow still managed to look so... lonely.

Beneath the photo, in delicate cursive handwriting, the caption read: "Class of 1914. Including Miss Y/N, the only child  of  the  L/N  family—our university’s first founding patrons."

Satoru’s breath caught in his throat.

Your name should have been everywhere. It should have been on every plaque, in every building, carved into the very bones of this place. Your family had built this school, laid its foundations with their blood and wealth. You had been the heir, the future.

And yet—

No one remembered your name.

Satoru’s pulse pounded in his ears, a frantic rhythm that seemed to echo in his chest. His fingers curled into the paper, the fragile edges crinkling beneath his grip. His heart hammered in his chest as he clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to scream.

This school, his school, had been built on the L/N family name. Your family’s legacy was supposed to be immortal, etched into the very structure of the place. And yet, all he saw now were the names of the Gojo family—his family—everywhere. The library. The dormitories. The lecture halls.

Your family had been erased.

A sickening wave of anger washed over him. He wanted to scream, to tear the world apart. He wanted to shove the truth in their faces, shove it into the faces of everyone who’d forgotten you. Everyone who had abandoned you. But more than anything—he wanted to go back.

He wanted to go back to that night.

He wanted to break down that fucking door, drag you into the light, and tell you, "You weren’t alone. You’ll never be alone again."

But he couldn’t.

It was too late.

One hundred years too late.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image of your face lingered. You, the girl who had been forgotten. The girl whose name had been erased from history. The girl who had waited for someone to remember, to fight for her. The girl who had suffered alone.

No one remembered you now.

But Satoru did.

A/N: Did you get who Viscount Salvatore was?

Next Chapter 3 - (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

[jenny-in-a-jar]

🌈 2 Days Until my Surgery 🌈

(Picture taken June 8th, 2024)

I'm very very excited for my surgery (it's my second gender affirming surgery but this one is more significant to me since it'll be top and bottom surgery) and I'm obviously counting the days until it and I thought some people might be interested in my trans journey 🏳️‍⚧️ I finished up most of the story yesterday so today I'll queerness bc it's pride month under the cut! 🌈🌈🌈

But you can read through my journey starting here

First, let's talk about this outfit. Yes, I bought the shorts and top at Spencer's and honestly you can easily find someone who matches it at a large enough pride event. But, it's hard for me to not be sentimental about it. Especially since I wore it at least once the last three years.

(Pictures taken June 11, 2022 and June 10, 2023)

And you can see how it and I have subtly changed these last three years of my transition. (Too bad I didn't have for my first year of transition but such is life 🤷‍♀️). And every year I get excited to wear it again!

Because being queer means a lot to me. I wasn't one of those people who always knew they were queer. But, I never felt connected to my cishet peers either. It's odd looking back and thinking about how my normal group of friends were cishet but at things like summer camp and then college I would quickly make friends with queer people. I really wanted to be like them but couldn't know why because I felt like I didn't deserve to be as cool and free as them.

But, when I let myself dive head into queerness I finally realized that I queer people are mostly awkward nerds and all of them just want to live their lives as fully honestly themselves. And that I could relate to. And that's what made it easy for me "to rip off the band-aid" and transition. It's what let me walk out into a world where I knew I would get hateful stares because I knew I wasn't alone. And seeing how other queer people's eyes light up when they see me showed me I made the right decision because I made them feel less alone too.

And making friends in the queer community is so much easier than in the cishet community. Because there's a lot more likelihood that they'll understand your awkwardness and admire your weirdness. I said earlier that I had gone to a few house parties and actually enjoyed myself for the first time. I think the best way to show why is this anecdote. I remember being in this circle of people standing around awkwardly silent and then someone said "I'm autistic and house parties make me uncomfortable can someone start talking?" and someone replied with how they felt the same way and how they felt the same way and then a conversation started about how hard parties are and social interactions in general but we were glad to be here and to try to connect with people.

And I love studying queer history a lot. Mostly because I'm curious how I would fit in to a time/culture in history. But also I love seeing how we don't fit in existed and how society understood our non-conformity. We have always existed. Queerness is part of the human condition.

The queer community is far from perfect. We all come from very different backgrounds and often have biases we need to work on. But, it's worth it to carve out your place in the community and to find people who understand and support you and to reciprocate for them. Because the alternative is being alone.

And we all deserve to feel loved, in whatever form you need. And because I'm feeling sentimental so here's a picture of me and my love 🥲

(Picture taken June 8th, 2024)

I have one last update before my surgery tomorrow where I'll look towards the future ✨

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