#I've been trying to get through to people

[neunnnnnnn]

An Update!

This has gotten a lot more attention than I expected to the point where non shifters are also literally blowing up my inbox 😭 ( yes I'm ignoring them)

Anyways to answer the majority of the common questions I'm getting....

1. Did you feel any pain?

No I did not feel any pain. Yes I felt the bullet pierce my forehead but It felt blunt and I didn't even have time to feel anything before all I could see was darkness.

2. How long do you think you stayed in the void.

Time is an illusion, so I can't really tell it might have been 2 seconds or years if you may, all I know is that I was floating and felt like me and the universe are one , there was no separation, no difference it just felt like I was the universe ( it's a feeling I honestly can't explain 😭)

3. Do we shift realities when we die

This is my opinion!! But yes I do believe we do whether that's consciously or unconsciously. I also don't believe that we actually die, since I astral project often I've had the chance to meet up with my late great grandmother who told me that she choose to reincarnate back to earth (but not on this timeline) something about wanting to achieve something, she also told me that I exist in that time although I am completely different. There are infinite timelines out there so dying doesn't really make sense to me tbh.

4. Will you go back to your fame reality.

😂That's a definite no ( unless I accidentally shift there) I'm still traumatised by it and try not to think how my s/o might be doing. And I'm taking it as a sign. A lot of unscripted shit were happening before that incident. And I got to live the life that I wanted.... So now we move on...

5. Why did you shift to your K-pop reality has anything changed in your cr?

Me shifting to my K-pop reality might have been my subconscious, I'm not sure why but I'm guessing I went to a reality that's similar to my 80s fame reality. And no nothing significantly big has happened in my cr.

6. If I script out death, will it still happen and should you have just scripted you can't die?

If you script out death then yes ofc it won't happen. I only script that I can't die if I am in an intense dr otherwise I won't because to me it defeats the purpose of being human. Yes I know we are literally the universe but I personally want to go through death. The reason I was traumatised was because it happened unexpectedly and tense, the last feeling I felt was pure panic, I was scared to death because I thought that I wasn't going to wake up in this reality.

These are some of the common questions I've been getting. And yes I'm okay thanks to all that asked 😭🩷

I respect people's believes. Just don't come in my asks saying that I'm wrong or whatever.

Your beliefs and religion should be YOUR truth not THE truth .

Experiencing death in your dr

This was absolutely very weird and I can't even explain how I felt at this moment....

I was in my fame reality and everything was going as how life would usually go. I was in a restaurant with my s/o and we were having a date night together and enjoying the view from the window we were sitted at, then suddenly we hear commotion and my s/o gets up and tells me that he thinks something is wrong we need to go, that's when the gun fire started so my bodyguards came to me and were leading both of us out that's when I see a masked person pointing a gun at me and firing it, the bullet hit my forehead head like I could feel it pierce it and then there was a ringing sound... Then darkness... It felt like I was in the void.... Like I was everything and everything was me...

My eyes open and I find myself in a room and guess what room was that?

My room in my K-pop reality. I felt like I was being yanked up and I opened my eyes to my members looking at me like I'm some kind of drug addict. I didn't even have the sike or energy to stay there so I said the safeword and woke up here to my friend telling me that her boyfriend cheated on her.

This made me realise that maybe we don't die at all and that has quited all the insecurities that I had around death.

It was weird, it was creepy and it happened so fast.....but I guess that means that we are immortal?🤷🏽‍♀️

~ No I didn't script this, why the hell would I even!!?!

[mia-maybank]

I Have A Feeling You Got Everything You Wanted: Part 1 - George Clarke

George Clarke x Fem!reader ( 1.5k words)

The sidemen charity match , a gorgeous ex-boyfriend with a mullet and his entire friendgroup scattered around the stands to avoid ... what could ever go wrong?

warnings: lots of angst (it gets happier I promise) , hints of poor mental health but it's not a heavy focus

series | masterlist | next part

This is my first fic in a while so sorry if it's not the best :) I've had this idea for a while and then I'm gonna start on everyone's requests this week too! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The roar of the crowd only increases as the players slowly filter onto the pitch, shaking each others hands and waving to the crowds. I clutch my drink tighter in my hand as I watch one player in particular laugh and joke with Chris and Will.

I don't know quite how I ended up in the stands of the Sidemen Charity Match. Perhaps the impulsive decision stemmed from the knowledge that it would allow me to set my eyes on George for the first time in 2 months, or perhaps it was just the intense loneliness that has followed me around like an unwanted weight, caging my heart in a murky fog of isolation ever since that one Tuesday night.

It's not like our shared group of friends have ever explicitly stated that they were choosing his side or had ever given me any form of grief; yet when I kept my distance in the days following the breakup, fearing their anger, their lack of messages or calls had given me an answer enough.

I sit towards the back of the stands, well away from the friends and family section where I know the Arthurs, Bach, Liv and various other of my old friends will be sat. My hoodie is drawn up, shielding my face from any spectators that may recognise me and blow up my whole plan of 'slip in, watch the match, slip out and avoid any social interaction at all costs'. I doubted I still had much relevance in the YouTube scene these days anyway, as my channel has remained untouched and been left to bury in dust and the weight of my heartbreak. I truly had tried to keep up my career independently, but filming with the absence of George's warm touch, Chris' gremlin-like laugh and Arthur TV's random historic facts didn't feel right. Therefore, I had just avoided social media entirely for the last 2 months, finding it easier than scrolling through the pictures and videos of George and the others partying and filming like I had never even been a part of their lives in the first place.

The match passes by in a blur of mullets running around the pitch, an impressive amount of goals being scored, and a growing pain in my chest that I tried my best to swallow down, although this proved harder with every passing second of watching the people who my world once orbited around carry on existing and living so vibrantly without me. When George scored, I couldn't help but let out a loud cheer; I knew that playing in this match was something that he had never even dared to dream of, so I couldn't help but feel an abundance of pride settle in my chest as he celebrated with Tobi.

As the final whistle blows , conceding the all stars team as the winners following an intense round of penalties, I slip out of my seat, intending to make it out of the stadium long before the boys left the pitch. I had time after all; they still had to celebrate and be presented with the trophy.

However, it seemed fate had other plans, as the throng of people who similarly were trying to leave early was overwhelming, and impossible to push through. Eventually, I found a more private stairwell that looked like it wasn't open to the public and slipped past security, figuring I could make a dash down the stairwell and escape quickly.

In my rush, I didn't notice a blur of red bouncing up the stairs until we collided, the impact sending the other person stumbling into the rail whilst I slipped fully, crashing onto the hard floor of the stairs.

"oh shit, I'm so sorr-" the person began, before cutting of abruptly. I soon discovered why when I looked up at the person and find myself staring directly into the equally as shocked eyes of ChrisMD.

Well shit, there goes my plan of avoiding everyone.

"y/n" Chris breathes out, his voice surprisingly gentle and void of the anger I had anticipated. "what are you doing here?"

"I'm not trying to make this a thing I swear!" I stammer out, panicked. "I just wanted to watch you guys play, I was planning on just slipping out".

"Without even saying hello?" he frowns, and I'm majorly thrown off by the lack of confrontation or resentment in his tone and how he seems offended at the idea of me actively avoiding them.

"Well I mean, it's George's big day, not mine and I knew you guys wouldn't want to see me so I was just going to stay hidden-".

"y/n" Chris interrupts softly, looking genuinely heartbroken now, his eyebrows drawn together in a mix of frustration and pity. "of course we would want to see you. I mean, we were practically joined at the hip at one point, and the other boys miss you too, you were a part of our friendship group just as much as George until you vanished. We thought you just wanted to move on and distance yourself from George so we left you alone."

"what?" I choke out, tearing up despite my best efforts to keep a lid on the emotions that aroused the second I realised the person was Chris. "of course I wouldn't just abandon you guys, I thought you guys were upset with me when nobody messaged and I didn't want to force my place in the friend group if you guys didn't want me there anymore." My voice wavers, my vision warped from tears at this point as all of the unspoken hurt I've kept firmly buried since the breakup finally pours out.

"This is the first time I've left my house since the breakup and I just wanted to cheer you guys on in secret, I thought you guys hated me".

"y/n hey hey it's okay-" Chris steps towards me now as if he is approaching a scared deer, his face lined with concern as he reaches out towards me. The moment is interrupted by the sound of laughter from below us, and Chris' expression drops as he mutters "oh for fucks sake not now".

It's too late to do anything though, as the footsteps have now approached the flight of stairs that Chris and me are currently frozen on. "Chris where did you get to why do you look like you've seen a ghost- wait y/n?".

I finally dare to look up at the mention of my name, giving up any pretence of disguising my presence and make eye contact with a shell-shocked Simon, who was the person who had spoken.

My eyes fall behind him to see Ethan, Will, Max, Tobi and Harry all looking equally as caught of guard. However, my attention is captured by the man staring at me with an unreadable expression behind the rest of the group, as stiff as a board and as pale as a ghost.

George.

Well, fuck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

@the-internets-girlfriend

[rosierin]

i used to love him | suna rintarou

synopsis; (y/n) talks about her feelings towards suna, from childhood to current day.

suna's pov here

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

I used to love him.

Not in a way you plan for. It just sort of… happened.

It was cute, honestly. Innocent. Simple. The kind of thing people call puppy love. At least, that’s how I’ve always seen it. Loving him came as easily as breathing, or blinking. It was quiet but constant—something that made the world feel a little brighter. Something worth waking up for. A little secret joy that sat behind everything else, like music playing faintly in the background of a really good day.

I think it started when we were around ten, in elementary school.

We were kids who got along without even trying. The ones who sat in the corner at birthday parties, trading sweets instead of dancing. The kind that didn't need to fit into larger friend groups. We were happy so long as we had each other, perfectly content as just a little duo.

Rin didn’t talk much—still doesn’t, actually.

He was my opposite in every way.

Quiet. Aloof. A little standoffish. I’m pretty sure people called him “the weird kid,” which—yeah, he kind of was. He never really made the effort to make friends. Usually ate alone during lunch. Would rather work solo than in group projects.

I don’t really know why I approached him first… I guess I must’ve found him mysterious or something. Like maybe he was just pretending not to care, and I wanted to see if I could crack it.

I still remember our first proper conversation.

We were sitting next to each other during lunch, and I noticed Pokémon Platinum poking out of his backpack. I’m pretty sure I went into a full-on tangent that day, rambling about how Sinnoh was my favourite region and which Pokémon were criminally underrated.

I always laugh when I think about it. He must’ve been like, “Who the hell is this nutcase and why is she all up in my face?”

But I mean—he couldn't have been that bothered since he sat through the whole thing. Nodded along. Never looked away. Even at the time, I remember being weirdly struck by how good he was at eye contact.

He couldn’t have been that shy, then, I thought.

And clearly he wasn’t as anti-social as everyone said, because after that? We were inseparable. I’m not sure how it happened—though I’m almost certain I planned it—but before long I was going to his house nearly every weekend. We’d play DS together. Have sleepovers. We'd even share a bed.

He wasn’t chatty like me. But that never bothered me. I was more than happy to do enough talking for the both of us. I think even as a kid, I liked his silence. It meant I could ramble about whatever I wanted without worrying if I was being too much.

Rin never made me feel like I was too much.

Never told me to be quiet. Never told me to go away.

And somehow, despite being nothing like me, Rin quickly became my favourite person.

I remember sitting by the school gates before class, tracing patterns into my shoelaces while I waited for him.

Even if he was late.

Especially if he was late.

Even when he was sick, I’d wait for at least an hour, just in case he'd show up. (I sound kinda crazy now that I say it out loud.)

I always gave him the green highlighter. I think I told him it didn’t suit me. Told him it matched his eyes. (It did. I've always like his pretty eyes.)

Everyone called us a duo. Not in a weird way—more like we just made sense together. Wherever one of us went, people expected the other.

And honestly? I liked that.

I liked when teachers asked, “Where’s (y/n)?” or “Where’s Rin?” whenever one of us was missing.

I liked being his other half. Loved being his person.

And maybe that’s where it all started.

In the little things. The small, unnoticed spaces where love begins to grow—before you even have the words for it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I think I really knew when we were around thirteen, in middle school.

I started getting nervous around him—even though I never had before. And for the stupidest reasons, too.

My hands got all fidgety and clammy when we talked. My words jumbled. I noticed how close we sat. I noticed the way our hands brushed when we walked side by side. The way his arm felt warm when it pressed against mine during class. I noticed how much I noticed.

Rin's always been big on eye contact when he talks. It’s something I love now. But at thirteen? It was terrifying. I used to look away when he held my gaze too long, like I was going to combust or something.

It was that kind of crush. The teen rom-com kind. The hair-twirling, feet-kicking, doodling-his-name-in-your-notebook kinda love. Sweet, harmless, a little naïve.

I remember doing some pretty cringe stuff. Like trying to mould myself into his exact type.

If he complimented another girl’s outfit, you better believe I’d show up the next week wearing something eerily similar. Oh—he liked a certain perfume? I ordered it off Amazon that same night.

There was even this one time he mentioned he liked the “sporty girl” archetype in anime. And after that, I wore a ponytail. Every single day. No exceptions. Sometimes I’d even throw on a dad cap on weekends, just to really play the part.

It was embarrassing, honestly. And so painfully obvious. (Even though thirteen-year-old me probably thought I was being subtle.)

And yet, Rin never said a thing. Nothing changed. He never pulled away... but he never leaned closer, either.

I’m almost certain he knew. He had to know. I guess he just didn’t see me that way. Which was totally fine, for the record. No pressure. So I kept smiling. Kept laughing at his jokes. Kept pretending I wasn’t in love with him.

And for the most part? That was fine by me.

I was content loving him quietly. Just appreciating his company. Daydreaming in secret. Hoping, a little—but mostly just accepting whatever it was we had going on.

And eventually… it started to fade.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We started high school at fifteen. Same school, of course.

Choosing a high school was, at the time, the most stressful decision of my life. I genuinely thought if I made the wrong choice, I’d ruin everything. Like, full meltdown. I cried twice and made it everyone's problem.

(Spoiler alert: it wasn’t that deep.)

I considered just staying local. The town school was fine. Definitely the safer and easier option. But then Rin got scouted by Inarizaki’s volleyball coach, and that was it for me. End of story. Because going to a different school than Rin?

No way. That was... unequivocally, out of the question.

Going to a different school than him wasn’t just unappealing—it was impossible. I’d told him back in middle school that I’d follow him wherever he went, and I meant it. (I don’t think he believed me at the time, but he should’ve known better.)

My parents weren’t too fussed about it. In fact, when I mentioned Rin was going too, they were relieved and said something like, “ Well if Rin’s there, we know you’ll be fine.” Which… fair enough. They trusted him almost as much as I did.

Still, moving to a new region, staying in dorms, living away from home for the first time? It was a lot. I was excited, but also terrified. Everything was new and unfamiliar—new teachers, new routines, new slang I had to Google in secret.

But Rin was still Rin.

Still my person. Still the one I sat next to during orientation. Still the one I went to when I got homesick.

We weren’t just fine. We were solid.

We had different classes, sure. Different schedules at times. But it didn’t matter. We still ate lunch together. Walked back to the dorms together. Watched anime on his laptop together. Nothing between us had really changed. And that alone made everything else feel manageable.

It wasn’t long before I started watching him play.

Volleyball had always looked good on him. His movements were sharp, calculated and effortless. Watching him on the court made me feel oddly proud, even though I had nothing to do with it.

Eventually, I asked to meet the team. I always saw them after practice so I figured, why not? He agreed, of course. Told me they were all "pretty cool".

That’s when I met the Miya twins.

And honestly? My first impression? Pretty 50/50.

I'll let you guess which twin was my favourite.

(Spoiler alert: it wasn't Atsumu.)

Atsumu was loud, cocky, and honestly a little insufferable. He was your typical jock. A frat boy in the making. At least that's what my initial thoughts were. I'd later realize he's far too much of a softie for that kind of debaucherous lifestyle and actually cares about his education.

Osamu, on the other hand, was far easier to talk to. Calmer. Less... in your face. He still teased and was competitive like his brother, but he was a lot more grounded and mature. He actually listened when people spoke. He was a little more serious. A little more thoughtful.

He reminded me of Rin in some ways—same sense of humour, similar "vibe"—but I could tell he was just as hot-blooded than his twin, just better at hiding it.

I liked him straight away.

But Rin? Rin was still the one I looked for.

Still the one I cheered for during practice.

Still the one who made everything feel like home.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

By the time we were sixteen, something shifted.

It didn't hit me all at once. Nothing like that. No sudden realisation. It was... more of a slow build.

I think it started when I stopped waiting for him after class. Not because I didn’t want to—but because he stopped expecting me to, I think. We were older now, and maybe I just didn’t know how to ask if he still wanted me there. I think a small part of me was afraid he'd find be overbearing.

So… I found new people to walk with. I sat with the twins more often. Got to know them more. I found out Osamu was a massive foodie and a true sweetheart, and that Atsumu was actually just a massive poser—a big, fat jerk, yes, but one with a big heart for those in his circle. A circle I had somehow managed to weave myself into.

I was starting to learn how to hold my own in a school that didn’t revolve around Rin.

And it wasn’t about replacing him. Oh no—definitely not that.

He was still my safe place. Still the person who knew me best.

But I was starting to feel like… maybe I could be my own person too. I’d always been more of a social butterfly, but ever since I met Rin, my circle had mostly revolved around him. So making new friends felt really nice—refreshing, even.

I got close to the Miya twins pretty fast—faster than Rin did, actually. They were impossible to ignore. Loud, chaotic, but strangely grounding in their own way. Osamu was calm and dependable, with a wicked sense of humour once you earned it. We had our own inside jokes now—mostly at his brother’s expense.

Speaking of the latter—

Things got... strange between us. Well—not strange. But at some point, our bickering didn’t feel like bickering anymore. It felt like something suspiciously close to flirting. He started it, of course.

He was so not my type. Funnily enough, if I had to pick one of the two, it’d be Osamu. So imagine my confusion when I started to realize I had feelings for Atsumu.

I think it’s because he challenged me. Pushed my buttons. Pulled things out of me I didn’t know were there. He made me raise my voice. Made me dig my heels in. Made me fight for my space in a way that was oddly exhilarating.

We were fire and fire. Burned too bright on some days, but we always came back.

He was never quiet like Rin. Never still. Never easy.

But with Atsumu, I didn’t feel like I had to wait.

And maybe that was easier than reaching for someone who never reached back.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We were seventeen when I realized I wasn’t in love with Rin anymore.

And it didn’t break me. It didn't make me feel particularly sad.

It just… passed. Quietly. Like something I’d outgrown. Like a sweater that didn’t quite fit the same, no matter how much you used to love it.

I still loved him, of course. I don’t think that part ever changed. But it wasn’t the breathless, giddy, daydreamy kind of love anymore. My love had settled into something softer. Like nostalgia. Like home.

Or at least… that’s what I told myself.

We were eighteen when the four of us moved in together. It felt like a natural next step—me, the twins, and Rin. Like starting a new chapter of a story we were all co-writing.

And then came New Year’s Eve.

Rin's house was quiet. The twins were back in Hyōgo. His parents were out. We were alone in his room, lights off, movie forgotten, fireworks going off in the distance like the climax of some cheesy shōjo anime.

And then… he kissed me.

No warning. No build-up. Just—one second we were sitting side by side, and the next, his mouth was on mine.

And I froze. Not because I didn’t want it. Just… because I didn’t understand it.

Because for one awful, beautiful second, it felt like everything came rushing back. Like my feelings had been waiting. Like they’d never really gone away at all.

I kissed him back. I kissed him like I’d always wanted to.

My hands in his hair. Chest pressed to his. His breath in my mouth.

And then his hands slid to my waist. He climbed on top of me. And I let him. I let him kiss me harder. Let him touch me. Let myself get swept up in it—drunk on him. On the weight of his body. The way he whispered my name. The way he called me beautiful like I was truly his to admire.

I think I was panting his name by then. I think I forgot how to think.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that—that’s when the confusion hit.

Because I didn’t know what I was feeling. Didn’t know what he was feeling.

What made him do it? Why now?

Surely not love. He’d never hinted at anything like that before. He’d never looked at me like that. Never touched me like someone who’d been waiting.

So was it lust?

And if it was… That stung. More than I thought it would.

I didn’t feel it that night, though. Not right away. That hurt only came later—once the adrenaline wore off. Once I was lying awake and remembering every second. Every sigh. Every touch.

But in the moment?

I was too busy getting lost in him. Too busy writhing beneath him. Too busy hoping—just for a second—that maybe I was wrong. Maybe it did mean something.

And then I panicked.

Because it was too fast. Too much. Too not us.

And I knew—deep in my gut—that this couldn’t be the way our story played out.

I didn’t want to be a one-night thing for him.

Didn’t want to ruin what we had just because my heart got caught in the crossfire of something he didn’t mean.

So I pulled away.

Didn’t say a word. Just let the moment pass.

And we never talked about it again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I thought maybe he regretted it.

Or maybe he just didn’t care.

Or maybe I’d imagined the whole thing meant more than it did.

It didn't help that he never brought it up. Not once. Still, he never looked at me any differently. But he never asked if I was okay, either.

And yeah… maybe that hurt a little.

Was it embarrassment? Was I a mistake? Was it just lust, some throwaway moment he didn’t want to acknowledge?

I didn’t know. Still don’t.

So I let it go. Buried it deep. Filed it away in that part of my brain labeled: “Don’t think about this unless you want to overthink yourself into insanity.”

I decided to move forward. I started laughing more. Smiling wider. Let myself lean into other people.

I grew closer to Atsumu—not to replace something I lost, but because he was there. Steady in his own chaotic, big-hearted way.

He made me laugh. Gave me hell. Challenged me. Made me feel seen. With him, I never had to guess. Never had to read between the lines or sit with questions I wasn’t brave enough to ask.

(Or at least, that’s what I thought at the time. But that’s a whole other can of worms.)

Sometimes—just sometimes—that night still comes back to me.

His hands. His breath. The way he said my name like it meant something.

And I still don’t know how to feel about it.

It’s probably nothing.

It’s all in the past.

And there's nothing weird about it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We were nineteen when I started realizing how little I thought about Rin in that way anymore. Like—actually, this time.

Not because I didn’t care. I still care—very much so. I guess I just... stopped expecting anything to happen entirely.

He was still Rin. Still steady. Still there. Still my best friend who I deeply cherish and always will.

But whatever we used to be—whatever I used to feel—it's settled into something quieter. Something softer and easier to carry.

He never brought up that kiss. Not once. Never looked at me differently. Never made it weird. Just… carried on like it hadn’t meant anything. Like we were the same as we’d always been.

And eventually, I guess I believed him and moved on.

Even now, nothing’s really changed.

We’re almost done with college. On the cusp of whatever comes next.

Atsumu and I aren’t a thing. Not really. But there’s something there. A flicker, maybe. Or a fire I’m still figuring out.

I’m happy, though.

No, really—I am!

I’ve got three best friends. A home that feels like mine. Days that make me laugh until my stomach hurts.

Rin’s still a major part of my world. Still close, in that comfortable, familiar way. Still easy to be around. Still my best friend that I'd do anything for.

It’s rare—but sometimes, I wonder if he still thinks about that kiss.

Even rarer—but sometimes, I wonder if I should’ve let it happen.

I wonder if I ever really fell out of love with him… or if I just learned how to live without hoping.

But most days?

Most days, I don’t wonder at all.

Most days, I’m okay.

And that’s more than enough.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He’s looking at me now.

I smile—out of habit, mostly. But it’s real.

He smiles back, like always.

And for a second, something in my chest stirs. Something old. Something that used to ache.

But it doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s just… there. A quiet flicker of something that once mattered a little more than it does now.

I blink, and it’s gone.

Whatever it was—it’s not ours anymore.

Maybe it never really was.

And maybe I’m okay with that.

I’ve got my little home. My little family. A life that’s messy and chaotic and warm in all the right ways.

I’ve got the twins and their bickering. I’ve got Rin and his quiet, grounding presence.

I’ve got love, just… not the kind I used to dream about.

And honestly?

That feels more than enough.

[utilitycaster]

Sorry if you've answered this kind of question before, but yesterday's ask about the villains made me think about the opposite: what kind of story do you think Bells Hells could have worked well in, the way they are? With their complete disinterest about the world I struggle to imagine them working in anything but a monster of the week kind of format where things are just kind of thrown at you...

Hey anon,

This is a fantastic question because it gets to the crux of something I don't know if I've properly articulated and honestly might not have the right words for so if any of my mutuals who have a greater degree of expertise in narratology/storycraft than I do want to mark this up with red pen, go nuts.

The way I approach characters in stories is not just who they are initially; but who they become through the process of the narrative in which they find themselves. I'm not immune to a first impression! I repeatedly find myself initially drawn to more driven, serious, emotionally closed off, genuinely good but kind of a bitch about it characters; and dismissing the ones I see as chaos gremlins, and then having to recant myself if/when the chaos gremlins show more depth through their actions. I rarely find myself drawn to a character like Nott or Fiedra (to use a couple recent examples) from the start; both won me over utterly. This isn't always the case! Sometimes they don't win me over! But my point is that I think most people have archetypes they immediately latch onto and are comfortable with and even might ultimately prefer through the course of the story (and I am no exception), but character and story are inherently intertwined with each other. It's essentially nature vs. nurture but for narrative.

So: a big part of the problem is that Bells Hells were given a story that failed to challenge them in such a way that they would grow into it. They were told what to do and infodumped at and their own motivations often wrapped up remarkably early in the narrative with little effort on their part so that we could get to the Moon Plot, and then suddenly the bottom dropped out and they were suddenly supposed to do a bunch of vitally important quests with relatively little guidance or oversight, and like many a sheltered teen going 1000 miles away for college, they did not respond well. Unfortunately, instead of taking the "well fuck it I'm going to do jaegerbombs and see what happens" route they went the "I'm going to beg whoever I see as an authority for answers while also resenting them for not giving me the answers I wanted or worse, suggesting I try to come up with my own" route.

I think had Bells Hells had an introduction rather more like the Mighty Nein's or what we know of Vox Machina's, they'd have become people who could make those decisions! Because the thing is, both those parties kind of did have a Monster of the Week format early on because that's a really normal way to start a campaign! If they'd spent their lower levels having to reluctantly work together without any benefactors and take watch in a hostile environment and take on weird jobs for money, I can't guarantee that they would have become decisive and self-motivated and interested in the world around them, but I think it would have been much, much more likely! No one was particularly intelligent, but to give an example, Imogen did have a lot of interest in finding out about her powers! A narrative in which that was not a "we have to give her the answer in the first 50 episodes so we can get to the moon plot" but rather a slow burn that required seeking out knowledge and following threads throughout the campaign would have meant regular trips to libraries or archaeological dig sites or academic institution, and that could have served as an ongoing motivator and as a means for other characters to learn more about the world while Imogen was reading about her magic. But because those avenues were largely closed off after the beginning of the campaign and the answer given at like, the 40% mark, there was no opportunity for her to grow or change or develop other interests.

There's a reason why the classic D&D setup is "you meet in a tavern, you take weird jobs on the job board, and you eventually fight god" and not "you meet in a tavern, you have a series of benefactors, you resolve 90% of your backstories in the first 40 episodes, and then the BBEG happens" and it's because taking weird jobs on the job board is what turns you from "only fit for Monster of the Week plot" to "a group of people who can make complicated decisions and who have a deep interest in the world." The only reliable way I've seen to get around this is by explicitly telling your players "This is the basic premise of the story I want to tell, so I need you to play curious and decisive people from the jump." Disliking the odd jobs route of an early campaign but wanting a complex ending is like wanting to run a marathon but refusing to train for it.

I've been trying to focus my critique of Campaign 3 on the campaign itself and not its fans at this point but I think this is relevant: I find a lot of fans are not really that happy with much of what happened, but are big fans of Bells Hells as people (to the point of treating them with more personhood than their detractors). This has led to some statements I can only describe as wildly stupid and in bad faith in which they seem oddly incapable of processing the idea that one's opinion on a character can - and should! - change over the course of the story based on that character's actions; whenever I and others were like "hmm, I don't like the turn Ashton is taking" it was interpreted as some kind of Rapid Onset Bigotry That Exclusively Applies to Ashton And Not FCG (or Dairon, or Yudala, or FRIDA, or like, any other nb characters) or (hilariously given what I just said) inconsistency and not "if you used to like someone and then they said something really shitty, you might not like them any more". And the thing is, that is the problem of Campaign 3 in a nutshell, even without the fandom - Bells Hells seemed to be simultaneously terrified of seeming like bad people and also all too willing to be self-absorbed and inconsiderate, and most crucially never seemed to realize that stasis and indecision are themselves horrible qualities that many people dislike. Bells Hells as the characters who showed up in Campaign 3 episode 1 were not doomed to be the people they became; the narrative (and obviously the player choices) led them into that. I do not, after 121 episodes, give points for lost potential; but a different campaign from the start might have actually brought out that potential and made them into characters who could be the focus of a good story.

[readychilledwine]

Howl at the Moon

Summary - Your daughter's way of exploring the world and expressing herself is a bit unorthodox

Warning - Motherhood and children

A/N - I wanted to give you all a glimpse into where I've been with life using our favorite girl dad. I really should take the time to make a GirlDad!Cassian Masterlist

✨️Master Masterlist ✨️Cassian Masterlist ✨️

“Sorcha! No,” Rhysand's voice was distressed, even if he was laughing. “Baby, Uncle Rhys said- Ow!” Your eyes shut, knowing what probably had happened. Your 16-month-old was a lot the past month. Her world was currently being explored with her mouth, and unfortunately, that meant her people, too. 

Her cry started a few moments later. Cassian seemed to sense the stress your daughter was going through and ran into the house, ready to be daddy. You followed him into the living room where Rhysand was trying to comfort your daughter. Her little wings were slumped, his hand in her curly dark hair. She was yelling more than sobbing. 

“I'm sorry. She bit my knee,” Rhys started. “I yelled-”

“Yelped,” you corrected. 

Rhysand shot you a dirty look, one that had you not been his sister would have scared you. “I gave a manly yelp,” he looked down at Sorcha. “I think it scared her.”

"No. She is upset because she was told no," Cassian got down to her level, taking her into his arms, “Hey, it's okay. You're okay. Being told no is normal, baby. It's okay."

You only stared at Rhysand as her howling began, your brother caught very off guard by the sad little “ah-woos” now coming from your daughter. “She does this lately,” Cassian explained to Rhys. “My little wolf.” 

Rhys was looking between you and Cassian, slightly confused. Nyx, your lovely nephew, had never gone through this feral phase. He had always been refined whereas Sorcha in all her spoiling was, well, sometimes just wild.

The problem was Cassian encouraging her. 

She howled, he howled with her. She bit, he gently nibbled her back. She yelled or screeched, well, he did the same. He matched her energy like it had become his own purpose in life. As if she was his very soul turned into this beautiful creature of playfulness and joy. 

He gave her a soft ah-woo back, making her begin to giggle and howl even more. “That's my happy happy girl,” Cassian picked her up, hugging her as he walked her outside. “Let's go run off some energy, baby.”

You moved to your brother, checking his knee for injury. “Last week, she bit my cheek when we were cuddling and made an almost growling noise,” you stated. Your eyes met his, your brother's dark brow was cocked. “I know. I know it's inappropriate. I am battling Cassian's enabling and he doesn't tell her no like I do. It's why he's the favorite."

"I don't think he's her favorite. She still watches for you like a hawk and screams in excitement anytime you walk into a room," Rhysand chuckled as he made you stand with him and then walked with you toward the patio door.

“You know what I see,” his eyes were now where Cassian was slightly chasing Sorcha, her loud belly laughter so innocent and unapologetically loud. “I see a father who loves his daughter and is playing with her. I see my niece, getting to explore the world most naturally to her. I see parents working to ensure their only child is raised with confidence. Even if she is a bit spoiled. She's frankly too damn cute not to spoil with those dark eyes and hair and that little food belly.”

Cassian had playfully caught Sorcha, tossing her in the air just high enough to make your stomach twist with worry. Your voice held a vulnerability that Rhysand had grown used to you using lately, “Do you think we're failing her?”

“Because she likes to chew? Cauldron, no. It's her instinct, sister,” Rhysand laughed. “She can't help it. It's soothing for her, it's how she's learning. Has the biting others slowed down?”

You nodded, “Its mainly Cass and I now. And evidently you.”

Rhysand hummed, “So the fae she feels safest with. I should be honored then, being loved so much by her she wants to be herself with me.” Soft blue eyes looked at you, the coloring almost violet. “You're doing great.”

Cassian was lying in the grass with Sorcha now, her little body on top of his. He had a wing up enough to block the sun from her eyes, his shut as his baby girl got comfy and let out a content and dramatic sigh. Her energy seemed to be burned out for now. She bit into Cassian's shirt, almost using it as a pacifier. Cassian gave her another soft howl, and Sophia dropped his shirt to echo him.

“You're doing great,” Rhysand repeated, his voice tight and eyes watering.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[mintaikkcorpse]

Aight I'm late to adding more analysis but just bcuz it was a while ago doesn't mean there still isn't stuff to note.

Again, maybe it's just my personal shit and me growing up with a time limit on how long i can be depressed before people stop caring and start being annoyed, but I was expecting Blitzø to get annoyed with Stolas in Sinsmas and be passive-aggressive, but he was so sweet and caring the entire time. Even when Stolas was being a privileged asshole, Blitzø was still so nice, even when calling him out on it.

Blitzø noticed that Stolas felt like shit when falling asleep the night before (for good reason), so he surrounded him with horse toys. ("If horses make me happy, they'll make Stolas happy." Best part is that he was right. Stolas was very happy to learn more about Blitzø's horse obsession).

Also, I just want to mention that you get birds to fall asleep by putting cloth around them to make a dark space, and that's what Blitzø did with his horse plushies.

Blitzø didn't know what kind of food Stolas liked, so he just made one of everything. And when he found out Stolas didn't like eggs, he immediately apologized and asked what he ate instead, so he could make what he likes in the future.

Also, just stuff like: Stolas likes to eat rats, so he went and literally hunted rats in the back of an alleyway so Stolas could have his comfort food.

He was incredibly attentive when Stolas was stressing our over Via. When Stolas would check his phone, Blitzø would try get him to focus on something else or tell him words of affirmation ("she's probably just away from the phone right now.") Ik that taking the phone away can seem like a bad idea ("what if she does call?") but as someone who has been in situations similar to this, I can not stress ENOUGH how important it is to get away from your phone.

Blitzø fistfighting a guy at the diner for spitting in Stolas'a food lol.

Stolas had a mental breakdown over being "poor" and couldn't even make it through one phone call without ugly crying on the desk, and Blitzø was just like, "Great job, buddy!" bcuz he knew that being honest with Stolas ("that was the worst fucking phone call I've ever seen) wouldn't help at all, and he doesn't want to make Stolas feel worse than he already does.

Stolas was catatonic for a bit after the fight with Via, and instead of being annoyed or whatever, you know what Blitzø did? HE FUCKING ATE HOT-ROCKS TO WARM HIS BODY SO HE COULD COMFORT STOLAS

And all of this has been going on for over a month? Dude, by that point, I would expect most people to be sick of it, but not once did Blitzø complain or make Stolas feel like a burden or did he ever snap at him. Being attentive and caring and patient is the most important thing you can do for someone in a situation like this.

Anyways, typing this made me realize some issues with my personal health and how I view how quickly I need to get better before people stop caring, so imma go write about it to talk to my therapist. If you have anything to add, please do, I love this episode sm

Maybe it's just my major fear of being a useless burden, but the fact that Stolas was literally so depressed and dissociating and just kinda going through the motions and was so completely out of it that he didn't react to hsving trash thrown on him and didn't even bother to try and lift himself back up when he went in the bathtub and literally has nothing left yet Blitzø still offered him a place to stay and helped him and guided him into his home and bathed him while saying that it'll be alright and lifted his head out of the water and double checked to make sure be didn't do it again and got up from the couch so Stolas could lay down and didn't ever seem annoyed by him or berate him or treat him as a liability and seemed genuinely caring and willing to help without complaint almost made me want to cry

[bunni-v1]

Stargazing

🍓It's not technically his birthday in Japan or in the States, but I'm super busy for his (assumed) birthday. So I'm posting this now as a little early birthday gift. I do hope you all enjoy. It's been a while since I've written him, so please be nice. I'm rusty. I have Wrio headcannons coming up after this, and then I'm planning on doing wrio/ifa and some Hugo stuff. Please be patient, I am busy.

TW: Allusions to Aventurines past (nothing graphic mentioned); Nsfw; Angst; editing errors(?)

Info: Aventurine x Reader; Angst to fluff to smut; Aventurine is referred to as both Aventurine and Kakavasha

MDNI

It’s quiet when Aventurine steps through the front door, the lights are off, the air is still, and you are nowhere in sight—likely cozied up in bed, fast asleep in one of his old shirts. When he steps into the bedroom, you’ll get up and greet him with a groggy little hello, and it’ll be a fight to get into his pajamas before you try pulling him into your arms to sleep for the night. It’s the routine he loves, peaceful and reliable, unlike how the rest of his day has been.

His birthday was hell for Aventurine. The whole day was just a constant reminder that he was still alive. All the wishes and thoughtless gifts were just obnoxious reminders for him, things he could honestly go without. If he had the power, he would erase the date from the calendars, or at least spend the whole of it sleeping, so he didn’t have to see those bright smiles and hear those fake niceties.

It was too much of a reminder for him of what he’d lost, and that his cursed luck had forced him to live on with that agonizing pain, and would continue to do so until the end of time. He wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow found the answer to immortality and was forced to endure life until the very universe ripped apart at the seams. Still alive, still breathing, still watching everyone he could ever care for fade away and slip from his fingertips.

He let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, shrugging his coat off and hanging it up alongside his hat. He knew he shouldn’t get so caught up in his negativity; it only perpetuated the pain cycle, but the ache in his chest was very demanding on days like these. Every sliver of kindness his colleagues showed him felt like a brutal gut punch, a reminder of the gentleness his sister had once shown him. A gentleness he was never afforded by anyone other than you.

The last birthday he recalled enjoying was eons ago. When he was still young and unaware of the things happening around him – untainted by the people who meant him and his planet harm. He and his sister never had money, nor did they have the resources for meals or gifts or anything lavish like that. They only had each other, and back then that was enough; He still thought it was enough.

She’d taken him out to an empty field – one of the only ones with tall grass on the planet. It was dry and hardly clinging to life, scratching at his skin as they stood in it, but he wasn’t focused on that. No, what they were there for was to look at the stars. One of the bonuses of living on a technologically unadvanced planet like Sigonia was the crystal clear night sky. The stars glittered like diamonds, smiling down upon him and kissing his skin in their gentle shimmer.

She had told him that night that stars were the souls of those long past. She said their parents were up there, watching over them just like their beloved goddess. He didn’t even buy it back then, but it was poetic rhetoric that he couldn’t blame her for. At least it was a somewhat happy end for the suffering of the Avgin people, even if it was a honey-coated lie. When she died only shortly after that night, he found himself revisiting that field and praying that she was right, that she was a twinkling star smiling down upon him. It’s what she deserved, to be able to shine.

He pressed his fingers to the glass window, gazing up at the stars once again. They weren’t nearly as beautiful here, dimmed by the city lights, but still hanging in the sky. If she were up there now, what would she think of him? Would she be proud of her little Kakavasha, or would she be ashamed of the things he’d done? He hopes she could find it in her heart to still love him the same way he still loved her. If she were still alive, he’d treat her to the sweetest chocolate cake he could find, and they’d make up every single birthday they never got to celebrate together.

The quiet creak of the bedroom door pulls him out of his thoughts, a soft smile quirking up the corner of his lips as he hears you shuffling down the hall. It only grows when you peek around the corner, drowning in an oversized shirt and a sleepy expression. You slide yourself over to him wordlessly, and he wraps you up in his arms on instinct. You are so warm and inviting, melting away all his tiresome thoughts with just a little touch.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” He asks, carding his fingers through your hair.

He can feel you smile into his chest, “Nope, I could just sense your presence.”

He hums, “Oh? Here I thought I was being sneaky.”

“Can’t hide from me,” You yawn out.

He chuckles at you, finding your sleepiness positively adorable. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, returning his eyes to the sky again. He could never definitively say what his sister might think of his life choices, she was long gone, and nothing he could do or say would bring her back. He knew one thing, though, and that was that she would love you too. Out of all the decisions he’s made in his life, all the bets and risks and challenges he’s faced, you were his greatest victory.

He got you right the first time. Maybe it was his luck that he managed to snag you, and for that, he’d have to thank Gaiathra for the first time in his life. Kind, funny, understanding, and his. There was nothing in the universe he was happier for. Even if his luck ran out tomorrow and he died a brutal death, he could die knowing that he was lucky enough to know what loving you felt like. He smiled up at the stars, warmly, as if his sister really were up there watching him now. 

You look up at him with a similar look in your eyes, watching him with such reverence that it would make an Aeon jealous. Tentative fingers brush against his jaw, returning his focus to you. You don’t ask him what he was thinking about, you know that’s between him and his mind, he’ll tell you when he’s ready to. So, instead, you lean up to give him a loving kiss.

“I know you don’t celebrate your birthday, but… I made us a cake. I figured it would be a nice treat after work,” You hum out softly.

He smiles, “Chocolate?”

“With rich chocolate icing, of course!” 

You tug him excitedly to the kitchen, plopping him down in a chair and dancing around as you grab what you need. A knife, a lighter, some candles, and the cake itself. It’s nothing special, just a single-layer cake with some nice icing job on top, but the thought of it makes his heart melt. You probably spend hours of your day making it for him, and while he wasn’t exactly a fan of typical birthday celebrations, he didn’t mind it for you.

You place the candles and light all of them with a wide smile across your cheeks, singing him a little song, and cheering when he ‘makes a wish’. Just like any regular family would do. It makes guilt gnaw at his stomach when you start slicing the cake for him, knowing his family never got to experience it. How he was feeling so bad for himself just moments ago when he had you here being so sweet to him.

He didn’t deserve to celebrate, because his family couldn’t do it with him. Because he had done horrible things to stay alive and keep going despite it all. Yet, he shouldn’t feel bad, because he was privileged enough to have someone who wanted to share these moments with him. He wasn’t appreciative enough of the things he already had, and it was unfair to you and your efforts.

He glares at the slice of cake like it had personally offended him, as if he could offload all his annoying, petty thoughts onto the little thing. You let him for as long as it takes you to put the cake back in the fridge and sidle up next to him with your own slice. It was hard to see him so tense like this, some kind of unspeakable conflict in his eyes that you had no means of soothing over for him.

You lay a hand on his, worrying your lip between your teeth when he jumps. His eyes send a shock through your system, panicked and wide, then melt into calm when he takes you in. He seems almost bashful when you smile at him, unsure of himself now that you’ve caught him in his head. There is a guilty look in his eyes, one that you know is somehow related to everything you’ve done here for him. You want to wash his worries away, but there is nothing more you can offer him than kindness when he gets lost in himself.

“Vasha,” You whisper, “I don’t know what’s going through your head right now, and even if I did, I don’t think I could understand it the way you do. Whatever it is, though, just know that I love you. I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

He melts, worry and pain washing away to relief. There is love that simmers to the surface of his eyes, warm and adoring as it always is when he looks at you. He opens his mouth to speak, fingers drawing across your cheekbones reverently, but he thinks better of it and snaps his jaw closed. Instead, he leans forward, slow enough that you can reject him, and presses a long kiss to your lips.

It is full of desperation and need, like he could breathe the appreciation into you through his kiss. You get the message and try to match his desperation with little success. One of his hands falls to your waist to pull you in closer, the other caressing your jaw with all the care he could muster. It’s the most breathtaking kiss he has ever shared with you, and it leaves you dizzy when he pulls away.

He gasps for air when he rests his forehead against yours, searching your face for something. You give him a soft smile, hoping that might help. It only makes him dive in for another kiss, this time sliding his tongue into your mouth. Pulling you closer until you are practically in his lap, fingers curling into your hair like you might pull away and disappear from him forever if he lets you go now.

You wrap your arms around him in reassurance that you won’t, but he is already too lost in you to come down now. It’s impossible to keep up with the way his tongue devours you whole, swirling around yours excitedly. You sigh when his hands fall from your hair and onto your hips, dragging you in long strokes against his hardening crotch. Your own need was hard to ignore as you pressed down into him, just as eager.

He trails his lips down your jaw, giving you freedom to breathe, painting a path down to your pulse point. He holds his lips there for a long moment, feeling your heartbeat beneath them. A little smile quirks up his lips as he kisses the spot again, paying close attention to it as if thanking your heart for beating in your chest. When he pulls away, his eyes lock onto yours, and there is nothing but love for you shimmering there.

No lust, just unadulterated adoration staring you down. It makes your heart skip a beat, lashes fluttering at the intensity of the feeling welling up in your chest. You didn’t think an I love you would warrant such a reaction, but your Kakavasha was a strange man who worked in stranger ways. If he were happy, you wouldn’t complain about it.

As such, you return the look, cupping his face in your hands and massaging your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. He sighs at the affection, melting against you yet again.

“You are the greatest thing to ever happen to me,” He hums, squeezing your hips where the rest against him.

“I could say the same about you.” You return.

He shakes his head, not dismissively, but as if you don’t understand. You don’t understand, not to the extent that he does, how much you mean to him. What you’ve done for him and what he would do for you. He cannot find the words to explain this burning in his chest, so he instead leans forward and kisses a burning path across your throat, cradling your head in his hand when it rolls back.

Wordlessly, he shoves the plates to the other side of the countertop, picking you up and setting you in their place. He lays you out upon it, leaning over you while his hands slide down your body, pooling his shirt around your hips so his fingers could easily dance along the hem of your underwear. It gets you to squirm beneath him, pressing yourself against him enough to have him sigh into your skin.

He would normally take the time to eat you out, maybe finger you for a little while, something to tease you for your desperation. Yet, you hear him already fiddling with his belt, the clinking of metal, and the shifting of clothes getting you to twitch in anticipation. It takes only a few seconds after releasing himself from his confines to have him pressing himself against your clothed pussy.

He slides himself against your slick, stained underwear a few times, the head of his dick catching over your clit a few times and making you shudder. He is gasping desperately after only a few strokes against your heat, fingers curling into your hair. He is rarely so desperate for you, which means that you haven’t upset him at the very least. When he cannot find the words for his feelings, he uses his actions to show his care. This need was just a manifestation of an I love you that he didn’t have the words for.

You hum when he peels your underwear to the side, sliding himself against you another few times. The warmth of his skin against yours had both of you groaning, and that was enough for him to begin pressing his tip into your heat. Your pussy sucked him in readily, clenching around him as if welcoming him home itself. He is already trembling at just that, pulling out immediately after bottoming out. 

It’s like he does not have the time to waste tonight, like he could lose it all if he stopped for even a moment. It leaves you breathless and lightheaded much faster than you normally might be. There is no teasing, no playful banter, just the sound of skin meeting skin and his rough grunts as he makes love to you. The hand in your hair comes down to your hand, interlocking your fingers together next to your head.

With each thrust he gives, his fingers squeeze yours gently between them. A physical tether ties you back to the moment through the barrage of pleasure in your loins. His tongue laps at your throat, showering the exposed skin with all the love it can give. It’s so intensely passionate, the way he is touching you, it already has your legs trembling weakly at his sides.

He is no better with the way his fingers seem to shake between yours, overwhelmed and overtaken by his feelings. It’s all he can do to cling to you like this, sweaty and dazed as his climax grows ever closer. It’s a side he rarely allows you to see, and you wish you were more coherent so you could appreciate the way he looks down at you so reverently and properly.

It becomes alright when he dips you down into a deep kiss, changing his pace to slow and deep thrusts. Each movement of his hips is intent on extending your pleasure just a second longer, not ready to let the feeling end just yet. You could spend the rest of your life like this if you could, and you know he shares the sentiment now. His lips follow his thrusts in swallowing you up with each movement, letting both of you get lost in your adoration for one another. 

You feel his climax coming before you realize yours is about to tumble down upon you, too. He twitches inside you, his fingers between your gripping slightly too hard, his tongue burying itself in your mouth to muffle his moan. It does a poor job; the sound still surrounds both of you, followed by your own when your walls clench suddenly.

The pleasure rolls over you slowly, enveloping each inch of your body and wrapping both of you up in a warm blanket, shielding you from the outside world. It keeps you safe and protected as both of you come down, breathing heated air and gazing at one another. Kakavasha smiles at you, huffing out an affectionate laugh when you flutter your eyelashes at him.

His hand is still holding yours in its grasp, squeezing intermittently to help you come back down to earth. He presses his forehead to yours softly when you squeeze back, freehand brushing your hair from your face as you hum appreciatively at him. He still looks completely unflappable, despite having just given you a creampie that made your head spin. That’s part of what you love so much about him, though.

The silence between you is broken by a quiet question, “Would you like to go stargazing sometime?”

It’s a bit of an odd question, but you don’t bother asking him for the context, “Is that something you like?”

“Mmm, you could say that.”

You smile warmly, “Then, yeah, I’d love to. The stars are always pretty.”

“They are, aren’t they?” He whispers back.

[estellardreams]

Ice And Flesh

For @lululocomo's New Past AU, specifically the Season 3 finale.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Xiaotian knew it when he rushed from the mountains after trying to reactivate Red Son's samadhi fire in the ritual... It went out of control. It took everything in himself to reach him. But he wasn't done.

He had a demon to kill for a second time.

"Xiaotian! Where are you going?" Macaque called for him. MK's ear twitched, but he said nothing.

"I... I have to go."

Wukong pulled him back. Xiaotian turned his gaze to his dad.

"If you're thinking of fighting the Lady Bone Demon by yourself, I'm not going to let you."

"No. I need to do this. If I don't, she's going to hurt more people." Xiaotian pulled his arm away.

"We can work together on this! We're coming with you."

"No... You're not."

"Xiaotian..." Macaque began to approach him as well.

"I'm not dragging you two into this. I prevented a crucial event from the last cycle and I could've figured out how to prevent Mystic from freeing her if he just... Kept trying to be the mayor. In the last cycle, he gave me that key as a reward. I messed around, I found out. And now I've completely removed that event from this timeline thanks to me wanting to fix something else. In a way, it's my fault she's out."

Xiaotian turned away, his fur gently blowing in the wind.

"... Xiaojiao. Meihua. I trust you two to take care of Red and help him figure this out. But I'm leaving."

"No, you're not!" Wukong yanked MK back.

The boy froze, his eyes widening as his necklace cracked. Sparks emenated from him before he suddenly zapped out of his father's grasp.

"I am, and that's final!" he yelled. He backed up and leapt off the edge, vanishing into a shadow portal below him.

Meihua shifted her gaze to Red, who was curled up on the ground, seemingly in pain.

She quietly came up to him, rubbing his back. "It's okay... You're gonna be okay."

"We're going after him. And I have a feeling she's not going to hold anything back." Nezha informed them.

"Right. I'll go get our armor." Macaque slipped through a shadow portal and out of sight.

Mk didn't waste any time stalling. He landed right onto the mech, blowing back any stray flames from him.

"Ah, your timing couldn't have been more perfect, Qi Xiaotian. It seems like your-" she froze as the kid lunged at her, slamming her into the mech's head. Mystic ran to rescue her, only for MK to spin around without letting go, punching him so hard he flew off the mech.

"Y-you..." she seemed to freeze into place and MK pushed her further into the ice.

"I should've destroyed you instead of letting Tripitaka seal you away." he growled.

"But if you destroy me, you'll destroy the host! Have you become so desperate to end me that you'd sacrifice this blameless, innocent child?"

"You're not giving me a choice. You haven't changed a bit and it shows. I will not be making the same mistake again."

Her eyes widened. "I've come too far to let you ruin everything again!"

Xiaotian knew where this was going. But either he ends her now or he got posessed instead.

He chose to strike her.

Blue fog suddenly clouded his vision, thousands of screaming souls pouring into his back. He screamed, hearing the faint yelling of both of his parents before he blacked out.

Wukong, Macaque, and Nezha showed up a few minutes after MK struck down the Mayor onto the ground. They paused at the crater, then heard a loud scream.

Wukong froze.

"KID!"

"XIAOTIAN!"

Laughter seemed to break out from on top of the mech. Rocks and debris began to float up as an aura surrounded Xiaotian. He turned his gaze to the trio below.

Lady exhaled. "Admittedly, this is an unforseen adjustment. But a fortunate moment of spontaneity nonetheless. Fate has given me the perfect champion."

"What have you done to him?" Macaque asked softly in horror.

She laughed lightly. "Oh, don't you see? Perhaps now you'll finally begin to understand how pointless your efforts to stop me truly are!"

She concentrated her power on himself, seizing full command over the monkey. The energy blew everyone back and away from the mech. Nezha dug his spear into the ground, holding onto Wukong and Macaque to prevent the two from falling back further.

"The Samadhi fire will be mine, and I will use it's power to reforge this world!" she declared.

Xiaotian held onto artifact he was given to control his power. He tore it off, crushing it into his palm.

"Go."

Nezha's eyes widened. He turned back to the two monkeys, pushing them out of the way. Xiaotian slammed the prince into the ground, shattering his spear in the process.

Lady raised her hand, conjuring up a spear of ice from the ground. Xiaotian tore it from the ground, gripping it tightly. He approached his parents, spinning it like the staff.

"Wukong! We gotta go!" Macaque urged.

"But the kid! We can't just leave him!" Wukong yelped.

"We'll figure out a way to save him afterwards! Now let's go!" he summoned a portal under them, letting them both fall through right before Xiaotian struck them.

The boy breathed, standing back up in place after the two escaped.

"Return here. You need a proper attire to go find the Samadhi Fire."

The air felt just as frigid when the returned.

"Pleasure for you two to join us." Lady began, floating above the two.

"Where is he?" Wukong growled.

"Oh, your son? Ah, yes. I'm sure he missed you two very much." she lowered herself to the ground. Xiaotian came up from behind her, planting his ice staff into the ground.

The monkey's fur seemed to be dulled, his eyes glossed over. He wore an outfit akin to his parents, but more symmetrical with what looked like ice spikes protruding from a center point on his belt. His hair seemed to flow in the wind.

He positioned himself, ready to attack the two monkeys.

Wukong paused, glancing between MK and his staff.

"... You could get impaled... Are you sure-"

"Yes." Macaque said firmly.

Xiaotian charged at the two, ice staff in hand. Macaque tore him away from Wukong and threw him to the side.

Wukong rushed up to his staff, planted into the ground.

"No matter what you do, you cannot change the path of destiny." Lady spoke, her hair flowing in the wind.

Wukong froze, hearing a piercing cry in the clouds. Then a hard thud. He slowly turned to see Macaque, pinned to the ground, the spear piercing through his previously wounded arm, tearing the scar back open.

He pulled it out, blood dripping from the wound.

"What can you hope to accomplish what your son has failed?"

Footsteps echoed through his ears.

"Cast aside your stubbornness and face your demise with honor."

Wukong turned back to Xiaotian, his hand still holding onto the staff.

His son...

His breathing hitched. He slowly removed his hand from it, stepping forward towards the boy approaching him.

This could either work or fail. He knew this, but... It didn't seem like there weren't many other options. And he didn't wanna fight him either way.

"Good little simian. Now you see what destiny wanted from you."

Xiaotian charged at Wukong, ice staff in hand, aiming for him.

"Wukong! No!"

Wukong leapt up to the boy, wrapping his arms around him the second the ice pierced through his chest. He buried his face into the boy's shoulder.

The monkey's ear twitched. His clouded over gaze seemed to drift to the monkeys face as he remained stuck in this position.

Then... His ears lowered. His eyes flickered. Purple and gold pupils returned, albeit faded. Tears welled up in his eyes as he pulled his dad into the hug.

Macaque staggered up, running over and pulling Xiaotian into the hug as well.

"I... I'm so sorry, I thought..."

"It's... Okay, bud..." Wukong winced.

Macaque froze, still noticing the ice impaling his mate. He quickly let go and tried to pull it out from the other end. His paws stained with blood as the ice clattered to the floor, now a deep shade of crimson.

"... Y-your wound isn't healing." he murmured.

Xiaotian froze, more tears flooding his eyes as he held onto Wukong.

"Of course it's not. My enchanted crystals are impervious to regeneration magic." Lady reaffirmed.

Xiaotian kept ahold of his dad, reaching over to his staff. He gripped it tightly, yanking it out of the ice.

The sheer force of power released sent her crashing into the back of the mech, alongside releasing him from her hold. He winced, shakily standing back up as he kept Wukong in his hold.

"I'm okay, kid... You can let go of me, now."

"No, you're bleeding too heavily! Just... I can..." Xiaotian cradled him in his arms as much as he could.

"But if Xiaotian's not under her control anymore..." Macaque began.

"Oh no..." Wukong tensed up.

"Predictably unpredictable fools! I'm not one to rush destiny, but I will not be undone by a troop of headstrong simians!" she yelled, forcing as much power as she could. She released herself from the girl she had posessed.

Macaque didn't hesitate, rushing over and catching the girl before she hit the ground.

"If the bull prince won't give me the samadhi fire willingly, then I will RIP IT FROM HIM!"

The fire suddenly exploded from the mech, sending everyone flying off of it except for her.

Xiaotian grabbed Wukong, holding onto him as the two toppled to the ground.

"Monkey King?!" Tang exclaimed, running over in a panic.

"I-I'm fine, don't worry about me." he winced, trying to wave him off.

Xiaotian breathed in shakily, turning his gaze back to the mech.

... Right. Follow the story.

Meihua was inside the mech with Red Son. He had to make that mech, then... They'd come out. She would finally die. This would all be over.

He stood up.

"Kid..."

Xiaotian couldn't look back. Not once.

He ignored her speech. He planted the staff down... And his mech emerged once more.

It's game time.

"No. No! I will not be stopped by a foul, insignificant creature! You would allow this world to continue to fester and rot, the eternal misery of countless souls because of your sentimentally for mortal pleasures?!" she cried out.

Xiaotian growled. "You can't judge things by their worst qualities!"

"This world might not be perfect but it's still worth fighting for!" Tang declared, casting a ring of magic below everyone.

"Yeah! Sometimes it's that little bit of char that makes for a more flavorful meat, even if it is a bit tangy." Pigsy chimed in.

"No matter what happens in the world, there's always going to be ups and downs! What matters is that we stick together to experience it!" Mei said.

Mo meowed.

"You said it, Mo. The world may be full of darkness but to let the light shine, all we need to do is stand together!" Sandy said.

The ring lit up. Macaque focused, drawing out his shadow powers as he kept ahold of Wukong. The ginger monkey blasted his golden energy first, then a stream of shadow powers.

Everyone's power shot out from the ring, flying into the back of the mech. It began to emerge with a golden shell, grasping onto the flaming swords tightly.

"The perfect world is what we make it. So as long as I have my friends by my side, this world! Is! Perfect!" Xiaotian yelled, pushing back against her.

"A childish notion! I will not be indulgent!" she cried out.

"Please! Listen to me! You are stronger than this! You controlled this before! Everyone is counting on you!" Meihua pleaded admist the flames surrounding the two.

"I know you can do it, Red! Don't just use it, become it! Like you always have!"

Red stared at her, closing his eyes before he felt something inside him click. He pulled her closer to him, shattering through the crystal he was trapped in and back outside.

The glass cracked, the two bursting through inside the flames.

"Hey noodle boy."

"Red?!" MK exclaimed.

"Brother! You're okay!" Meihua hugged him tightly.

Mk hugged her back.

"Now, let's finish this!"

Tang used his power to summon a huge magical ring over the mech. A beam of light came crashing down on it, the blast beginning to shatter the crystals covering the world.

More beams of power began to fly into the ring, powering up the mech further. It seemed to ascend over the bone mech, summoning the golden staff. He gripped it tightly, everyone right behind him.

Nezha appeared right behind them, placing his rings onto the mech's feet.

"Here... Comes... MONKEY-"

The staff slammed into her shield.

"No! You will not take my destiny from me!" she yelled.

Red leapt out of the mech, grasping the staff to encase it in the samadhi fire.

Lady's eyes widened.

She was going to die.

"KID!!!"

The staff crashed through the shield, obliterating her mech and herself in the process.

It was finally over...

"... You've done this before. Haven't you?"

Xiaotian paused. "Well, yeah."

"Then tell me this, child." she drifted up to him.

"Are you proud of yourself? Proud for defying the original path? Proud for this change of a timeline? You are aware we're one in the same. We follow the path lined out for us, but you chose to change it."

"So? Why does it matter to you?"

She smiled briefly. "Because I know that our pursuit for righteousness, even when it defies all odds, only leads to pain. But it also leads to monsters."

She came up to his ear.

"Like you."

Her form faded out in the white abyss, leaving Xiaotian alone.

"I swear I'm fine! Don't worry about it!" Wukong waved him off.

Pigsy pushed the bowl of noodles into his hands anyway.

"Still, you should eat. Food would help you heal faster."

"Right, um... Thanks."

Xiaotian quietly watched. He slipped away, trying to ignore the tears pricking his eyes every single time he saw those bandages.

They were still getting bled through by the hours.

"Xiaotian...?" Macaque quietly came up next to him.

Xiaotian tearfully looked up at him. Then at his papa's arm. The wound was still fresh.

His heart ached. He backed up, bolting from the mountain top.

"Xiaotian! Wait!"

He skidded to the ground, crashing through the jungle trees and to the muddy floor below.

He couldn't help but sob.

He felt horrible. He wanted to change things, but seemed to only make it worse for himself and others.

And now... He knew that he wounded both of his parents. It was his fault.

It was his fault he let himself get posessed.

It was his fault for tagging along on that journey for the map in the first place.

It was his fault he was stuck in this cycle.

Although he missed everyone... So much had changed.

... Because a monster, with bloody paws, chose to change destiny with no regard for others.

[rpmemes-galore]

the last of us (game) ... sentence starters

"Endure and survive."

"Holy shit. She's infected."

"There is no other choice here."

"You have no idea what loss is."

"You listen to me, you little shit…"

"Come on. Make this easy for me."

"Yeah, well, I was trying to kill you."

"No, fuck you! You handcuffed me!"

"How is it that you're never scared?"

"I shot the hell out of that guy, huh?!"

"But, man… you can't deny that view."

"And we are going our separate ways."

"We're not murderers. We just survive."

"I will not turn into one of those things."

"It's called luck, and it is gonna run out."

"Well, is that everything you hoped for?"

"You're lucky you're still drawing breath."

"What are we doing here? This is not us."

"It can't be any worse out there… can it?"

"They sacrifice the few to save the many."

"What do you know about us? About me?"

"Yeah, I thought you were one of them, too."

"Just take it easy. Drugs are still wearing off."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that bullshit."

"That was plan A, B, C, all the way to fuckin' Z!"

"You're treading on some mighty thin ice here."

"Oh, baby girl. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay now."

"You're gonna be really happy you didn't kill me."

"I'm sure your 'friend' will be missing this tonight."

"(name) saw the world one way, I saw it the other."

"I'm… I'm not going anywhere. This is my last stop."

"I'm exhausted and I just want this to end… So be it."

"Well, I ain't leavin' without you. Let's go wrap this up."

"Ssh, ssh! It's okay! It's me, it's me! Look, look. It's me."

"No, no, no, that was your crusade, I'm not doing that."

"Admit that you wanted to get rid of me the whole time."

"I'm glad I didn't get my head blown off by a goddamn kid."

"Hearing them talk, it's good to know they're scared of you."

"Swear to me. Swear to me that everything you said is true."

"Well, I guess we're both disappointed with each other then."

"This tunnel, you use it to smuggle things? Like, illegal things?"

"Focus right here, right here. Or I'll pop your goddamn knee off."

"Where are anyone's parents? They've been gone a long, long time."

"And just so we're clear about back there… It was either him or me."

"Well, maybe in all that research they turned into fucking monkeys."

"I'm just saying, I'm glad you're on my side. That was a compliment."

"You're right. You're not my daughter. And I sure as hell ain't your dad."

"The tests just keep getting harder and harder, don't they? I'm so tired."

"It's okay. I would've probably done the same thing. Where are you from?"

"People are making apocalypse jokes like there's no tomorrow… Too soon."

"They might still look like people, but that person is not in there anymore."

"Really? Guess what, we're shitty people. It's been that way for a long time."

"I lost most of my crew crossing the country. I pretty much lost everything."

"I guess no matter how hard you try, you can’t escape your past. Thank you."

"After all we've been through. Everything that I've done. It can't be for nothing."

"Listen to me: if I get in trouble down there, you make every shot count. Yeah?"

"Look, there's enough here that you have to feel some sort of obligation to me."

"I believe his last words to me were 'I don't ever want to see your goddamn face again'."

"I hate to interrupt your little biology lesson, but can we get the fuck out of here? Please?"

"I dedicated my life to this cause and… now I won't get to see whether we make it or not."

"I…. can't imagine losing someone you love like that. Losing everything that you know."

"And then you show up and somehow we find you just in time to save her. Maybe it was meant to be."

"I'm gettin' you outta here, baby girl. I got you. I got you. Come on. We're okay… we're okay… we're okay…"

"You know, as bad as those things are, at least they're predictable. It's the normal people that scare me."

"I get it. But whatever it is you think you're going through right now is nothing to what I have been through."

"I struggled for a long time with surviving. And you... no matter what, you keep finding something to fight for."

"Is this really all they had to worry about? Boys, movies… deciding which shirt goes with which skirt? It's bizarre."

"Do you even realize what your life means? Huh? Running off like that, putting yourself at risk — it's pretty goddamn stupid."

"You wanna know the best thing about my job? I don't gotta know why. Be honest with you, I could give two shits what you're up to."

"What if the people are still inside? What if they're trapped in there, without any control of their body? I'm scared of that happening to me."

"Yeah, everyone barricaded themselves in their homes. Then supplies started runnin' low. That's when you saw what people are really capable of."

"You know what? No. How about 'Hey, I know it wasn't easy, but it was either him or me, thanks for saving my ass'… You got anything like that for me?"

"And in this world, that sort of shit's good for one thing — gettin' ya killed. So you know what I did? I wisened the fuck up. And I realized it's gotta be just me."

"Everyone I have cared for has either died, or left me. Everyone—fucking except for you! So don't tell me I would be safer with somebody else, because the truth is, I would just be more scared."

[watchingblsnowandforever]

Heesu in Class 2: A personal reminder why I watch queer media

As always I am super late to the party

I recently binged Heesu in Class 2, and I've read a lot of posts about it on here, both positive and negative.

All I need to say or will say has probably already been said in the posts I'm going to reference (notes at the end), but I still wanted to make this post because I watched the series on a whim, but it hit really close to home.

Before we go any further, some things that I need to point out: I have not read the webtoon (I started it after watching the show) and this post is going to have personal takes that might not resonate with everyone. Also, this is only my second meta analysis post, and I haven't watched very many BLs to truly comment on the nature of BL or queer media of a particular kind (though I try to maintain diversity in what I watch), so if I say something incorrect, I'm always open to constructive criticism.

Firstly, as a queer person who'd been in high school not so long ago, I could really relate to the characters and the narrative.

I had an unrequited crush on a really close friend. I never confessed. To this day, I think about the what ifs. Using Heesu's words, I had used up all my feelings for her so I got over her, but maybe confessing when I had the chance would have given me the closure too.

So when I saw that the story started with Heesu having feelings for his best friend that might or might not be returned, I was instantly hooked.

Secondly, the narrative is much more than it seems, and every single scene has a purpose, a meaning, a layer that might just go unseen if you don't know to look for it.

The het narratives are important. Did it frustrate me? To no end. Did I actually consider for a short period to put this show on hold? Heck yeah. Did I finally understand why the het narrative was important to highlight the queer one? Yes.

Let us take the het plot lines one by one.

Chan Yeong and Ji Yu. The most important, the most highlighted. This is a very common story in high school. Girl likes boy, boy likes her back, and they date. I had a lot of friends with boyfriends in school (I attended an all girls school) and I see even more het couples in college. Every single time, it reminds me of what I cannot have. I can't be too close with my partner (if I were to have one), I cannot publicly show affection that goes beyond friendship, I cannot sleep on their shoulders, I cannot laugh over lunch together, I cannot go on dates. That was the same for this show. In Class 2 bolds and underlines het privilege, putting it side by side with the internal struggles Heesu has to go through.

Ho Sik. How het people can be open with their affections, but also how beauty standards play out. One girl thought he was ugly even though he worked really hard to make her a whole ass scarf, while another girl found him cute enough to pursue him even from afar.

Hee Sin. Her repeated confessions. I relate from experience when she says that when she has feelings for someone she can't help but confess, and even if she faces rejection, and dramatically mopes around till her next crush, it helps her move forward. Quite a while after I had feelings for them and even gotten over them, I confessed to a few people. Fortunately, all of them took it in stride, one of them told me she used to have a crush on me too, one was really happy and wanted to know more even though I told her my feelings for her were very short-lived, and the third person is still my friend. And confessing to people does make them happy. Unfortunately, not a lot of queer people have the freedom or confidence to do it. There are just so many things that could go wrong. Especially when the person you like is a close friend, it's incredibly hard. But in the end, her confession gets her a boyfriend, one who was in a relationship at that too. Miracles do happen.

Hee Jae. Her arc shows how easily a comfortable relationship can shift into a toxic one. I don't know how to put what I think about this relationship into words, but it's explained really well in @soypim's post (notes, reference #8).

Hee Jeong. Her story tells us to jump, to take the leap, to prioritize one's own self and dreams. Initially she was afraid to go abroad and study even when she wanted to; this fear may have stemmed from worry about her siblings (also an arc about eldest daughters), or fear from going to live in a completely unknown milieu. But Heesu's words act as a catalyst, and she is ready to take this step. Through her relationship, Heesu is also shown how a friendship doesn't have to end when one person confesses, that despite being in a relationship and breaking up and not seeing each other in a long time, Hee Jeong was still friends with her partner/best friend.

And finally, let's talk about the queer narrative.

I loved the conflict resolution. I loved how Heesu got to be angry at Seung Won. I've seen a lot of BLs, especially Thai BLs, where the lead just sort of forgives the romantic lead for playing with their feelings, and I really do not like that. I love that they cleared that, that Seung Won actually confessed, loud and clear.

They might not have kissed, but boy do I love them.

Personally, I think the scene where Heesu confesses to Chan Yeong is very realistic. I have been lucky to have queer or ally classmates, but I have seen when an indirect reference to a person not being heterosexual confused someone, and they didn't really even understand how it could be. Chan Yeong's parental pressures and expectations were also very relatable, as an Asian only child.

When Chan Yeong called Heesu to the tennis court and hit him with balls, I understood where he was coming from. I'm glad he took the time to process what he'd been told and very clearly told his friend his actual thoughts on the matter. I was glad to realize he values their friendship more than Heesu had given him credit for.

How Heesu in Class 2 was a personal reminder why I watch queer media. I feel like after watching all the BLs I have, I developed certain expectations from what I want from a 'BL'. This show reminded me that at the end of the day, I'm just another queer person searching for queer narratives not only for catharsis through fictional characters, but also to hold on to hope about queer stories. This show reminded me of my high school days and every moment was so real. I lived this show, I could see it unfolding in real time, and that made me really giddy. I want to watch more shows like these.

Finally, some moments that stuck with me in no particular order:

When Heesu saw Hee Jeong coming in late and told her to do what she wanted to, that he'd always support her.

When Heesu came out to Hee Sin. Hee Sin was visibly trying to come up with the best reply, but she handled it well.

When Heesu learns Sweong Won has two moms and he thinks "at least he won't hate me for who I am" I almost cried.

The tennis court scene.

The hand holding scene. I absolutely adored it. I want more scenes of boys giggling over holding hands.

Notes and references Posts that inspired this one (so sorry for the long list of tags 😭):

@alien-ally (post)

@bengiyo (post)

@dramalove247 (post 1 & post 2)

@jackandjoker (post)

@lurkingshan (post)

@nabi-unveiled (post)

@neuroticbookworm (post)

@soypim (post)

@wanderlust-in-my-soul (post)

and this critique by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

MY GOD this took me so long (I've been here for almost 3 hours) my eyes are dead my laptop is cursing me out.

Anygays, I really hoped y'all liked and enjoyed this!

If you read all the way till here thank you so much I love you <3

Remember to hydrate and eat properly, and here's a cupcake for you 🧁

[ogsherlockholmes]

I've been thinking about trying to form my own sort of order of the Holmes canon (yes, I've been very inspired by other current Holmesian content) since I'm trying to get back into the annotations that I used to do and I'm at a loose end as to what to do with my life at the moment, but I really find it difficult to read the stories as examples of chronology, if that makes sense.

I've obviously been proven wrong time and time again as many people have wrote their theoretical canon chronologies, but part of me seriously feels that that's impossible. If they were supposed to have an order, ACD/Watson would have wrote it that way (again, my own personal opinion, I'm not trying to impose rules in the fandom because that would make all this boring). But, since he's our favourite unreliable narrator, he mixes up dates, changes them- sometimes he tells us, sometimes he let's us figure it out for ourselves.

There's the whole idea of the game, the 'true' meaning of the Holmes books and what ACD was trying to tell us. I, of course, am inclined to think that the mysteries aren't the main story, it's Holmes and Watson's relationships that are supposed to be focused on, so dates just aren't important to me. I don't believe Watson when he feels the need to include exactly when something happened, because it looks like he's establishing an alibi. Diverting attention from something.

And, I don't know, maybe I am taking it too seriously, but half the time I read the 'cases' and I doubt they even happened (as in, within Holmes' London)- a good example is obviously The Blanched Soldier wherein two men are kept apart from each so they don't endanger their reputation... a very diluted version of events, I know, but a brief example of my feelings on this. The cases are metaphorical, symbolic- cover ups.

I'm being extremely cryptid because I'm reevaluating my reading of the canon, and finding it surprisingly easy to ignore virtually everything Watson tells us to find a deeper story running through it all (not that there's anything wrong with serial crime stories- that's why I started reading in the first place).

I plan on actually forming a little bit of work on this- I doubt it'll go any further than this blog, but it'll be entertaining nonetheless, and I hope that at least a few people will understand where I'm coming from.

[timkontheunsure]

Saying I love you

While Stolas isn't able to tell Blitz directly yet; he also doesn't correct Blitz saying that Stolas loves him.

They're arguing at the time, and he could definitely have been a petty bitch. Split hairs telling Blitz that that's not what he said.

But Stolas' basically says 'yes your correct that told you I love you. And if that's your reason for not believing me, I'll forgive you for the yelling, and roleplay smeg'

'Like sure, tell me whatever reason you'd have to struggle to get this very simple, and obvious fact through your think skull?'

He just wants to know why Blitz can understand that he said as 'I love you', but still not believe a word of it.

Because Stolas knows he's not been even a little bit subtle about showing his love for Blitz.

(This shits visibility from space)

But honestly Stolas struggling to tell the people he loves in words makes so much sense.

When he was neglected and alone the majority of his childhood.

And hit for showing basic respect.

Paimon is not the sort of dad putting his kid to bed with a bedtime story, and a 'I love you'.

Neither is Mr 'don't get excited on your birthday, because it makes you a pain to handle' Butler.

But Stolas is the sort to tuck his little girl up with a story, and make her feel loved. Even if he's bad at saying it.

I think a lot of us grew up with parents that couldn't say this, because violence and neglect were such a big part of their lifes growing up.

And it's hard to model behaviour if you never see it.

It's honestly amazing how well a 19 year old did at breaking the cycle, showing his daughter that he loves her.

Even if she's confused right now, because she doesn't understand he can love more than just one person. That love isn't finite.

But Blitz and Stolas kinda are the two reactions to generational abuse I've seen in my family and SO' family. (And an bunch others but I'm trying to keep this neat lol).

Mine when Blitz's rout, with a conscious trained effort being used to tell the kids they are loved. It's replaced our goodbyes. (Didn't always match behaviour. But braking the cycle is hard, and they did try).

SO's family went the Stolas' rout, when love is seldom said, but show in lots of actions. Normally with 'care' filling in for it if it ever needs to be said at all.

It mostly gets said one, and assumed to be true till further notice. Which I do think might trip Stolitz up later on.

And makes me wonder if this is one of the things tripping Via up now.

That because it was never said she assumed alot of big things. Like her dad and mum must loving eachother, because that's what parents are meant to do.

That because it's only ever her dad who's shown her love; but she was wrong about such a fundamental thing, that 'he at somepoint must have loved Stella'; she could be wrong about that too.

And because her dad the one changing her status quo, by asked for the divorce, and leaving; Via can't shake the thought that could of changed his mind about her as well. (Even if she's wrong basically every part of that).

Question of the day:

Have you ever noticed that Stolas never SAID "I love you" directly to someone?

Show love through actions? Absolutely. In a flawed way, sure, but still, he showed just how much he values Blitzø and Octavia. He's willing to give up his own happiness for them.

But he hasn't really voiced his love in a direct way.

At most he said "I care" or "I think so very highly of you" towards Blitzø, when he gave him the Asmodean Crystal. And we all know how much damage his (and Blitzø)'s communication issues ruined everything.

And with Via, we know he looked out for her constantly, and spent a lot of quality time with her before everything went to heck after Stolas' affair with Blitzø.

And even considering just how much Stolas cares for her, he never said "I love you" to his own daughter. He definitely gave her hugs, pet names and a normal life, but never those three words were heard.

Until in "Sinsmas".

Right when Via cut ties with him, because he couldn't be fully sincere with her about everything.

...

I love it here... 🫠

[becausegraf]

Stolas is not Blitz's first rodeo - the case for Blitz' potential history as a de facto sex worker

(Okay, whoop de doo, here we go, if I sit on this essay any longer I won't get around to having dinner.)

Imagine someone you're into knows you've been struggling to make ends meet, and they approach you with this:

"Hey there, I've been thinking, how about we meet once a week to get giggity and have a good time, and in exchange I'll pay your rent, no strings attached."

Since 'this is hell' and not real life, also try to imagine what for example Moxxie or Millie's reaction might be to something like this. How would you envision this might go?

'What the FUCK' would be a completely sensible response. Even if someone agreed to this, you'd expect some reluctance, unease, nervousness, internal conflict... from most people.

And yet, this is basically what Stolas offered Blitz, and even in a hurry, his reaction wasn't at all shocked or confused. We see no hint of awkwardness in his behaviour around or during his monthly visits, not a lick of it.

There's a simple explanation for this: Blitz has done this before plenty of times.

He's quite literally 'used to it' and accepts this as a fairly routine type of agreement, without even questioning the concept of 'that horny head-in-the-clouds dork of a prince had a good time with me, and wants me to keep servicing him enough to offer me precisely what I want'. Stolas is far from unattractive to him, sure, 'why the fuck not'. Of all the ways this situation could have played out, this is one of the less difficult ones to deal with - satisfying people using his body is pretty much a 'shrug' to him, as opposed to having to come up with some kind of manipulation, or negotiating a different agreement, or keeping the grimoire against Stolas' will and earning himself the wrath of a Goetia.

The premise:

There is a long, long list of clues, many of them hiding in plain sight as 'haha crude jokes oh Blitz u so silly' moments, that Blitz has a history of providing sex as a service.

I also believe this is something most of the fandom already implicitly expects or wouldn't be surprised at all if it were confirmed in the show, but a lot of the implications are entirely invisible, and the effects on Blitz' behaviour are VERY easy to read as 'it's a comedy show, they write him this way because it's supposed to be crude and funny'.

Parts:

1) A hoard of hints

2) How this contributes to the massive disconnect between Blitz and Stolas' understanding of their arrangement

3) Some notes regarding the 'stage persona' of a performer, and recognition of achievements - a connection to his VA and co-writer

1) So, let's look at some contextual evidence first. This list is mostly constrained by my limited capacity to rattle off more examples on the fly, I'm sure you can easily find more of these everywhere you look.

- 'It's your night', and other such flat dismissals

This can be read as him just being cold and apathetic towards Stolas, as obviously 'Blitz is an unempathetic jerk-ass boyfriend'. However, if you read this through the lens of Blitz truly handling this arrangement pretty much like a professional, it makes perfect sense.

'We can do what you want, you're the client here buddy. This isn't about my preferences or wants, my job is to please you and not the other way around.'

- 'You know, I'm not really fussed when stuff like this happens' about Stolas rescheduling

Kind of a funky thing to say about your lover asking you if you have time to meet a bit earlier than originally planned, isn't it? Again, this makes sense if you read this arrangement as Stolas being like a client with a monthly appointment, and Blitz as the accommodating professional. The customer is king, if Stolas wants to move their appointment date (for something Blitz can do during his off-hours that aren't likely to conflict with other plans) then sure, it's not like he's going to charge a damn cancellation fee.

- 'But I thought you like it when I talk all dirty and fucky and shit'

The start of Apology Tour is a rough one, but it reveals a lot about the hidden reasons behind Blitz behaving the way he does with Stolas, and why we shouldn't take everything at face-value.

During their encounters, Blitz is in work-mode: h's very deliberate about how he comports himself and how to play to Stolas' tastes, for as far as he thinks he understands them. Stolas responded well to the aggressive stuff upon their first meeting as adults, and from Stolas' POV he had no real reason to clock that as *not actually really what Blitz' own personal preferred style is*. For as far as the owl knows, Blitz truly is unforcedly, naturally just 'like that' - scathing, dominant, rogueish, confident, bold and brash and adventurous in bed.

I think it's likely that Blitz probably *isn't*, maybe partially but not entirely, but trial and error quickly showed him Stolas is into that so... sure, he can accommodate. Whatever the fancy man wants of him, he can stay 'in-character' in that kind of exaggerated role pretty effortlessly.

Blitz glomming to MnM is a pretty big tip-off that he does have a sense of what true close intimacy is like and he absolutely does have a yearning for that. His 'I'm just here for the sex' bad boy attitude does not truly convey who he is as a person in his entirety.

The rowdy sexy assassin-cowboy-imp is the role he plays for Stolas, under the assumption that that is what he's into, and as a way to shield off his own much more vulnerable and conflicted real feelings. When it seems as if Stolas is no longer satisfied, he tries to 'get his shit together' and dial up the intensity, taking the whole sexually aggressive act to a level where it majorly crosses Stolas' boundaries.

Blitz at that point is just SO confused, so in turmoil with himself, and so terrified of losing the one point of connection he has to Stolas (which at that point really is pretty much their sexual compatibility plus a dollop of mutual je-ne-sais-quoi) he gets frustrated and just slips into a blind defensive rage.

(...yeah, that sure went over well, didn't it. 'God damnit Blitz', thus spoke the entire fandom.)

- Blitz' encounter with Chaz

This is a very interesting one to me. This set of scenes shifts very rapidly from one impression of Blitz to another, a triple pile-up of 'lol gotcha'.

'Oh ok , Blitz gets that it's kinda iffy to bang your friends' shitty ex' immediately gets subverted to

'...welp I guess his weird fixation is enough to disregard that entirely', and shortly after to yet another twist:

'-aaaaand welp, he took advantage of the situation without even blinking, because his instinct made him catch a whiff of something, and he took the first opportunity to poke into it a bit more even if said opportunity is banging the airhead randy shark'.

Blitz 100% uses his body like a tool. Any personal pleasure or bonuses that suit his whims he gets out of it is only part of his motivation. His played-for-laughs fling with Chaz is really much more functionally motivated: diving into bed with someone is just one of the several items on his list of things you can do to slip past someone's guard, shmooze them up, get up-close and even have them dead-asleep to create the perfect moment.

Watching this unfold, I personally very much did have that moment of 'oh dear that's a little concerning', that he made it look like he's 'just kind of a morally questionable ass', so casually making it seem like he was having some fun for his own sake when he was clearly going into this with the plan to slink out as soon as he had the shark where he wanted him.

This example also shows that Blitz clearly understands that sex and intimacy and trust are connected, but for him personally, that's pretty much optional (or even explicitly to be avoided).

- 'I've spent too much of my time, energy and holes on getting us set up', (so maybe don't get lame about this Mills)

File under 'haha Blitz so crude' and the easy interpretation of this as referring ONLY to Stolas. This likely concerns all the work he's done over the many years, starting long before the short time he's had the grimoire at his disposal at the time he says this.

He also does note himself as a) business savvy and b) sexy as fuck as the two major assets he has that he thinks of first in this scene. Blitz knows he's capable of capturing 'that kind' of attention, and he's clearly willing to make use of that.

- Finding out later in the series that he has a whole slew of exes that are still upset with him

This 'reveal' aligns with the general impressions we have of Blitz by that point pretty well. I wasn't surprised at all about that one - 'Oh, of course he does'.

Blitz dodges truly close personal intimacy, but he hardly avoids getting into situations that most people would experience as explicitly intimate, vulnerable and personal. His idea of 'boundaries' are very different from those of most people he deals with, and it's truly no wonder he ended up attracting quite a number of people to him only to ditch out once it became clear they were expecting some kind of romantic commitment.

With his natural charisma and easy charm and his *actual* innate kindness, combined with his well-practiced capacity to flirt and fluster and flatter, people that get to know him may very well be tempted rather quickly. They then easily misread his intentions when he's not one to say no if they make a pass and he's passingly interested. Of course, as soon as they let it show they're falling for him in earnest, *WHAM* goes the door, with no warning and often a sound 'fuck you' to seal the deal and ensure they don't come back.

'Why would he go and get intimate with me, if he didn't want to be with me?!'

The sheer confusion only adds to the offense at that point, and it's that lack of a sensible explanation that contributes to the pattern of people struggling to 'get over it'. We want to know 'why', we need the story to make sense, but Blitz does not give people that closure easily.

'Sorry I have a warped relationship with sex and it doesn't mean to me what it means to you as a baseline, AND I have massive hangups about people getting the feefees for me because everyone who does gets torn to shreds, so if we get giggity that's all you're gonna get from me' isn't really the kind of thing Blitz tells people ahead of time or after the fact.

- I may add more later or in a reblog, I could go on for hours honestly...

2) All this is far, far removed from Stolas' entire world

We all understand pretty well that our beloved well-intentioned dork of an owl has had a pretty sheltered existence (albeit frought with its own problems), and has *very* little experience in the realm of actual sexual activities.

If someone more worldly were to encounter Blitz and regularly interact with him in the way Stolas does, I think it would very quickly begin to raise questions.

You know, if someone so consistently treated your 'sexy date nights' the way Blitz does, I think quite a few of us would start to catch on that maybe he's got some, eh, 'circumstances' that inform his behaviour. Stolas however has nothing to go off off - Blitz is the experienced one, and he certainly acts like everything they do is pretty par for the course. Blitz is the role model, the example Stolas learns from about 'how things work' and what the rules are.

The issue is that Stolas is trying to learn how to have a fulfilling intimate relationship with someone, while Blitz is, in some fashion, actually trying (rather frustratedly at times) to teach him the code of conduct around just-business sex work. Over and over and over we see Blitz try to remind him of these rules, and from our POV, this comes across as Blitz being kind of cruel and mean because he's bluntly brushing off every earnest attempt Stolas makes to forge a connection.

Stolas doesn't understand what's going on under the surface, and for the most part, *neither do we as the audience*. We're here for the fluffy love story, and the hilarious impish shenanigans of our kind-of-a-dick of a protagonist. *Neither we as the audience nor Stolas take Blitz' behaviour and push-back seriously* as we don't get to explicitly view things through his eyes with the full understanding of what the world works like for him. He's either acting like a douche, or being erratic and hilarious, all just meaningless funny bullshit - right up until the moment where he snaps and suddenly it's no longer charming.

Stolas hapless persistence with trying to move past these 'walls', as he truly does desire something very different, eventually leads to Blitz giving up on getting him to cut it out, and it really seems as if he desperately tries to interpret he situation as an unruly spoiled but harmless client getting way too into the 'playing boyfriends' roleplay.

After all, what else could it *possibly* be? Love? Ha ha ha fuck you, of course not. What kind of asshole would even suggest that, that's just hurtful, inconsiderate and stupid - don't play with his feelings like that, it's JUST BUSINESS and Blitz needs to keep his head on straight. He's got a job to do and if he fucks this up and lets himself get attached and it all gets too real holy fucking sh- just drop the sky on him while you're at it, why don't you.

NO.

3) There are some themes here, as per the person who plays a big role in shaping Blitz' character

As 'the sassy crass youtube dude' in reputation I wouldn't be surprised if Brandon Rogers himself might be kinda familiar with the effect of people mistaking your 'on stage persona' for who you really are. People at times approach performers like him under the assumption they're always 'like that', and they tailor their behaviour according to that, too, instead of taking a step back and treating them like a regular person with regular boundaries.

At some point Brandon also said one of the things he relates to the most with Blitz is how much it irks him when people low key look down on what he's achieved.

'Nobody just handed him stuff, he and the team put in a fuckton of hard work into getting to where they are now'

This echoes Blitz' derision towards Fizz as someone who seems as if he's being given privileges, resources and support on a silver platter, just for existing as the person Asmodeus has a special interest in.

I will let that lead into my concluding comment:

I'm pretty damn sure we don't officially know the first damn thing yet about everything Blitz has put himself through to make it out of his twenties alive, just for starters, and to then become successful and reliable enough to provide a stable home for Loona and get his business off the ground.

[aroaceenjolras]

I love queer fiction, because the authors always unintentionally reveal who they consider to be queer enough and who they don't through who gets included in the narrative and who doesn't. (And I'm specifically talking about like, books where 90% of the cast is some variant of queer and it's obvious the author worked hard to represent a diverse mix of identities. I'm not, like, reading M/M books where the whole point is to see guys kissing and complaining that there are no lesbians.)

And, predictably, it's always us. It's always aro and ace people.

I've been reading Yours for the Taking and The Shutouts (queer postapocalypse duology by Gabrielle Korn, genuinely very good books I would otherwise recommend, especially if critiques of girlboss feminism are your jam - which is why this makes me sad) and suddenly I see, in a character's letter to their teenage daughter, this fucking line

Or maybe I already had. I know you don't want to hear about that. But sex is important. It's part of how we love each other. You'll learn that someday.

And it suddenly hit me like a train that out of all the named and developed queer characters in this very intentionally inclusive duology that seems to be trying very hard to be sensitive to the nuances of queer gender and sexuality, there was not a single ace or aro person, let alone a person who was both.

I hate debates over representation. I find it tiresome and useless to discuss fictional characters and ships as if they're serious community issues when there are actual fucking problems we could be working together to solve. But the recurring pattern where no one but us ever talks about our issues needs to stop, because although queer fiction is a canary in a coal mine, it isn't the only place where our voices aren't being heard. People are insanely fucking averse to acknowledging that we exist, across all platforms and movements and types of media. People refuse to build things (theories, structures, community spaces) with us in mind or allow us to build our own.

[bubblyi3]

Eventually, Summer | MYG

"we were a season. maybe the best one."

pairing: yoongi x female reader

genre: coming of age, grumpy x sunshine trope

word count: 2.5k

content warning: fluff, angst

summary: you’re the town's ray of sunshine. always smiling, always talking, always trying to make people feel at home in your little seaside café. min yoongi? not so much. when a local community project forces you both to co-run a weekly open mic night at the café. yoongi starts to open up. slowly. grudgingly. beneath his cold, quiet exterior is a guy with big dreams, old scars, and a love for music he hasn’t touched in years. and behind your sunshine smile is someone who’s just as scared of being left behind.

author's note: pulled this one from the drafts :) hope you enjoy it! i've been wanting to explore the grumpy x sunshine trope for ages, and honestly, no one fits the vibe better than yoongi. if you do, a like or reblog would mean a lot. it really motivates me to share part 2!

ps: i'm gonna put my previous taehyung fanfic on pause, until i get motivation to continue again... hopefully soon!

PART 2

The bell above the café door jingled with its usual cheerful chime. The kind that made regulars smile and newcomers glance up in curiosity. You were halfway through icing a lemon scone when you looked up and saw him.

Headphones. Hoodie. A scowl that could curdle milk.

He paused at the threshold like the sunlight offended him, squinting behind black-framed sunglasses. And then, wordlessly, he stepped in, dragging a suitcase behind him.

You blinked. "Uh... can I help you?"

“No,” he said, already walking past the pastry display and toward the corner booth like he owned the place.

You followed him, apron flapping at your sides. “Actually, I think you might be lost. This is Sweet Sea Café, not a waiting room.”

He dropped into the booth with a sigh so dramatic it felt like a personal insult. “I know where I am.”

“Do you?” you asked brightly. “Because most people say ‘hello’ before claiming a table like a hermit crab.”

“I’m not a people person.”

“No kidding.”

He cracked one eye open. “Do you always talk this much?”

You beamed. “Only when I’m nervous. Or when people are rude.”

That earned you a faint lift of his eyebrow. Barely. But it was something.

Before you could say anything else, the bell above the door rang again, and an older woman bustled in arms full of fliers and a clipboard wedged between her elbow and hip.

"Y/N!" she chirped. "Perfect timing! I need your help assigning volunteers for the Summer Stories Project."

“Oh, right,” you said, quickly wiping your hands. “Is this the library’s thing?”

“Yes! Oral histories. Interviews. Open mic nights. Community magic!” She thrust the clipboard toward you. “And guess who just signed up?”

You tilted your head. “Oh no.”

She pointed behind you.

You turned. The hoodie in the corner booth was glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him.

“He’s not even smiling,” you whispered. “He looks like he hates air.”

“Yoongi’s his name. Came back from the city. His grandmother signed him up before he could protest.”

“Sounds like a hostage situation.”

The woman laughed. “I paired him with you.”

You froze. “What.”

“You’re sunshine. He’s... whatever the opposite of sunshine is. It'll balance.”

You looked over at him again. He was glaring now. At you. Great.

Later that afternoon, you slid a caramel latte across his table. He looked at it suspiciously.

“I didn’t order this.”

“It’s on the house,” you said. “You’re my new partner in summer crime.”

He hesitated. Then took a sip.

His eyebrow twitched.

You grinned. “Sweet, huh?”

He looked away. “Too sweet.”

You leaned your hip against the table. “You’ll get used to it.”

He didn’t respond.

But the cup stayed in his hands a little longer than necessary.

The following Tuesday, the café was half-quiet, humming with the low clinks of cutlery and the hiss of the espresso machine. You were wiping down the counter when Yoongi arrived. Twenty minutes late and looking like he’d fought with his alarm clock and lost.

He slumped into the same corner booth with his hood up and his expression down.

“You know,” you said, setting two iced Americanos on the table, “for someone who doesn’t like this project, you sure love being consistent.”

He didn’t even glance at you. “Overslept.”

“You oversleep every day.”

“That’s what summer’s for.”

You slid into the booth across from him, pulling a stack of notes from your tote bag. “Well, today’s the big day. We’re interviewing Mrs. Park. She’s ninety-three, has twelve cats, and once punched a man for stealing her garden gnome.”

Yoongi looked up. Barely. “Sounds riveting.”

You leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “You’re going to love her. She used to be a jazz singer in the '60s and keeps brandy in her teapot.”

His lip twitched. A maybe-smile? Almost?

You didn’t push it.

By the time you arrived, the air was thick with sea breeze and blooming hibiscus. Mrs. Park’s house was painted lemon yellow, covered in ivy and wind chimes.

You rang the doorbell. Yoongi stood behind you, visibly regretting his life choices.

The door opened. “Darlings!” Mrs. Park exclaimed, beaming. “You must be the interviewer and the grump.”

You blinked. “Wait— how did you—”

“Oh, I know everything,” she said with a wink, ushering you both inside. “Tea?”

Ten minutes later, you sat in her vintage living room, a recorder between you, a teacup in hand, and one of her cats curled on Yoongi’s lap like it had found a kindred soul.

He didn’t even try to stop it.

You hit record.

“So, Mrs. Park,” you began, “tell us about your time as a jazz singer in Seoul?”

“Oh, it was scandalous,” she said. “There was a saxophonist once who fell in love with me and tried to serenade me outside a hotel window. Problem is, it was the wrong window. Poor Mrs. Kim fainted.”

Yoongi snorted. Just once. Quietly.

You turned to him, eyes wide. “Was that a laugh?”

“No.”

“I heard it.”

“Play the recording and prove it.”

You grinned.

The sun was dipping low when you and Yoongi walked back to the café. The evening breeze tangled through your hair. He had his hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders hunched, but he wasn’t rushing ahead like usual.

“She liked you,” you said, nudging him lightly.

“She called me emotionally constipated.”

You giggled. “Only because you are.”

He rolled his eyes. “What are we doing next?”

“The community board wants an open mic night. Think we can make it happen?”

Yoongi groaned. “I came back here to disappear, not listen to a kid read slam poetry about frogs.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased. “What if I promise you free coffee for a week?”

He glanced sideways at you. “Two weeks.”

You smirked. “Deal.”

And just like that, you noticed it. The way he walked a little slower now, closer. The way his eyes didn’t always look away.

Like maybe, just maybe. Summer wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

The next few days were a blur of scribbled lists, butcher paper posters, and arguments about fonts.

“You can’t use Comic Sans,” Yoongi said flatly, staring at your half finished poster on the café counter.

“It’s not Comic Sans,” you protested.

He pointed. “That’s literally Comic Sans.”

You huffed and turned the poster around. “Fine. What do you suggest?”

He grabbed a pen and without saying a word, started sketching something with deliberate strokes. His handwriting clean, sharp, annoyingly stylish. You watched from across the counter, arms crossed, pretending not to be impressed.

“Okay, that looks cool,” you admitted.

He shrugged. “It’s not that hard.”

“You’re such a menace.”

“Tell that to your font choices.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a little flutter in your chest. A weird warmth that came whenever Yoongi focused like that. Like he wasn’t trying to be impressive. He was just... him.

You were wiping tables while Yoongi counted tips at the register. Not that you asked him to. He just did it. Silently. Like he always did lately. Like he was making himself useful without needing praise.

“I’m thinking,” you said aloud, “we could hang some fairy lights. Maybe use the back patio. Put out cushions and have a ‘sunset session’ vibe.”

Yoongi didn’t respond.

You glanced up.

He was staring out the window. Hands still. Brow furrowed.

“Hey,” you said gently, walking over. “You okay?”

He blinked and turned to you, blinking like he forgot you were there.

“Yeah. Just… remembering.”

You waited.

“My mom used to do that,” he murmured. “Host these little nights with music and food. She called them ‘evening peace offerings’ after she’d yell at me and my brother for fighting.”

You smiled softly. “She sounds fun.”

“She was.” He paused. “She died when I was sixteen.”

Your heart cracked just a little.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice low.

He nodded. “I haven’t thought about that stuff in a long time. Feels weird.”

You leaned against the counter beside him. “Memories sneak up on you like that. Especially in places that smell like sugar and regret.”

That pulled a laugh from him. The small kind. The real kind.

“I don’t regret coming back,” he said suddenly, surprising both of you.

You turned to him, eyes meeting his.

“I’m glad,” you said softly.

The silence between you was full, not awkward. Thick with things not yet said but gently waiting their turn.

Yoongi was scribbling again in his corner booth. Hoodie off, headphones half-on, one hand buried in his hair as he wrote. The café was quiet, golden light flooding the floor, and you didn’t want to interrupt him.

You were restocking the napkin holders when he got up to use the restroom. On instinct, your eyes drifted to his open notebook.

You didn’t mean to read.

But your name was there. Written in small cursive, tucked into the edge of a line:

“She talks like caffeine, hands warm like sunrise, all sugar and second chances.”

Your breath caught.

You stepped back just as he returned, his gaze dropping immediately to the notebook. Then to you.

The air shifted.

“I didn’t read it,” you said too quickly.

His jaw flexed. “You did.”

You bit your lip. “Okay, I peeked.”

He snatched it closed. “Don’t.”

“I won’t,” you promised. “I just… Yoongi, that was beautiful.”

He didn’t say anything. Just sank back into the booth and pulled his hoodie up.

But this time, he didn’t plug in his headphones.

This time, he stayed in the silence with you.

The fairy lights blinked to life just after sunset.

You stood on the café’s back patio, barefoot on the wood decking, clutching a clipboard and trying not to have a breakdown over the mic cord that refused to untangle. A half-circle of mismatched cushions, folding chairs, and picnic blankets spread across the lawn like a patchwork dream. You had no idea who was actually going to show up. But somehow, the place was filling. Buzzing. Warm.

The air smelled like lavender lemonade and early summer promise.

“You okay?” Hana whispered, nudging you gently. She was managing the lemonade table in a flowy skirt and flower earrings, always in her element.

You gave a tense smile. “I think I’m about to throw up.”

She laughed. “You’re fine. You’ve been planning this for two weeks. Everyone looks happy. Even Grumpy.”

You followed her gaze.

Yoongi was leaning against the patio railing, watching everything with his usual unreadable expression. Hands in his pockets, black shirt rolled up at the sleeves, moonlight catching in his hair.

He was early. That alone was a miracle.

You swallowed hard. “He’s just here for the free drinks.”

Hana raised a brow. “He looks like he’s here for you.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Because maybe he was. And maybe that terrified you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you took the mic, hands trembling only a little.

“Hi, everyone,” you began, voice carrying over the soft crowd noise. “Welcome to ‘Evening Offerings’ An open mic night for anyone who’s ever had something stuck in their chest that needed to be said out loud.”

A soft murmur of laughter and claps followed.

You smiled, scanning the crowd. Catching his eyes without meaning to. Yoongi didn’t smile, but he nodded once. Just once. And it felt like enough.

The first performer was a nervous twelve-year-old named Mina, who read a poem about her golden retriever. Her voice shook, but you kneeled beside the stage with a thumbs-up and the whole crowd clapped like she’d just read Shakespeare.

Then came a college student with a guitar and too many feelings, followed by an older woman who shared a song about her divorce and lavender oil, and somehow made everyone laugh through their tears.

Yoongi remained in the second row. Still. Watching. Scribbling something in his notebook between performances.

The more the night unfolded, the more magic seemed to settle in the air.

It wasn’t about perfection. It was about honesty. About people fumbling for something true in front of strangers and somehow finding it.

And then… just before the final slot, you saw movement in the corner of your eye.

Yoongi stood up.

Notebook in hand.

You blinked, stunned, as he walked up to the mic, slow and steady like someone walking toward a cliff edge. He didn’t look at you.

Not yet.

He cleared his throat, voice soft but steady. “I didn’t plan to share,” he said. “But… someone reminded me recently that silence can be just as heavy as noise.”

The crowd quieted. Even the crickets paused.

He opened his notebook.

His voice was a little rough, like gravel softened by the ocean.

“She talks like caffeine,” “hands warm like sunrise,” “all sugar and second chances.”

You felt your pulse stutter. You didn’t move.

“She doesn’t know I write her into my mornings,” “how her laugh unclenches things in me I didn’t know were fists.”

He looked up, just briefly.

Right at you.

“She’s summer.” “And I’ve always been winter.” “But she never asked me to change.”

The words landed like soft punches to your chest.

And for a second, all the noise in the world went silent.

The crowd clapped. Hesitant at first, then louder, real. Some people whistled. Someone cheered.

Yoongi stepped down quickly, eyes on the ground, disappearing behind the side of the café like he couldn’t handle staying there any longer.

You gave the mic to Hana, barely heard her close the night, and followed him into the darkness behind the café where the stars blinked above like they were eavesdropping.

He stood near the back door, arms crossed, pretending not to be affected.

“You wrote that,” you said breathlessly.

He looked at you but didn’t speak.

“You shared that,” you repeated, softer.

Yoongi exhaled. “It was stupid.”

“No,” you said. “It was brave.”

A pause.

He laughed once, low and bitter. “You make people brave. That’s the problem.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Because then they start hoping.”

Your heart squeezed.

“You think I haven’t?” you asked quietly.

He looked up. Really looked.

You stepped closer. The air between you crackled. “You think I haven’t been hoping for weeks?”

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

Instead, he reached up, slowly, carefully, and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

His fingertips lingered.

“You scare me,” he murmured.

“Because I see you?” you whispered.

You took another step. Chest to chest now. Close enough to feel the tension in his breath.

And then, finally.

He leaned in.

The kiss was slow. Barely there at first. Like he was afraid to mess it up. Like he’d been dreaming it and didn’t want to wake.

And you kissed him back, with all the warmth and ache and summer promise that had been building in your chest. Since the first day he walked in with his hoodie and his scowl and his hidden kindness.

Somewhere behind you, fireflies blinked.

Like applause.

Like magic.

[microwavesaferat]

Batfam Scar Map!!!

I've seen this done for other fandoms, so wanted to share what scars I think the Batfam have.

Bruce

When he began as Batman, he didn't take good care of his injuries, so he has a lot of scars from the early years, just small nicks and scratches that he never took care of and got worse as he went out as Batman more. He's better now at taking care of injuries, so the majority are very old wounds.

He has a patch of white skin on his neck from the splash back from the Joker falling into Ace Chemicals. Now the cowl has a higher neck in it and he wears shirts and turtlenecks in public to hide it.

The suit is pretty solid, so not much can get through.

He has a long scar right up his back from when Bane broke it. The scar is from the surgery, not the break.

He has a straight line burned on the back of his hand that people assume is from a fight, but it's actually from when he was a kid and touched the inside of the oven trying to cook.

Dick

Constantly got calloused hands and small cuts from the amount of acrobatics he does.

He's very prone to ripping open old wounds from contorting himself, so has a lot of small scars from various things.

From the 2006 infinite crisis comic, Dick has a large explosion burn on his chest.

Jason

Jason did have scars like the others until his dip in the pit healed them all. Despite this, Ra's wanted to encourage Jason's rage, so carved reminders on him.

Jason now has 2 scars, a Y shaped autopsy scar (he never had an actual autopsy, Ra's just did it for fun) and a J branded on his face (this was there before the pit, Ra's redid it).

He can't seem to gain scars anymore, a byproduct of the pit he thinks.

Tim

There is a reason his Red Robin costume has long sleeves, jesus this kid is covered in scars. He's always been one to just ignore the wound and move on.

He has a Glasgow smile from the Joker.

He also has those indents you get when you scratched chicken pox as a kid. This is from the incident with the super ebola.

He also has a scar on his neck from that time Jason slit it. (This has made me realise Tim nearly died a lot)

Damian

He is young and the others have made sure the wounds are taken care of, so he doesn't have that many scars.

He has kept secret the large scars on his back from when he was given lashes by his grandfather.

He has a large scar on his waist from when Batcow accidentally kicked him. He doesn't mind this though as it was his fault he came up from behind and startled her.

Stephanie

She has a mix of scars from Black Mask, mainly burns and cuts.

Actually takes care of her injuries when she can, so not much scaring.

Cassandra

No one can do much as touch her, nevermind scar.

Duke

During the We Are Robin comics, he didn't exactly have time to take care of his injuries, so he's another one with a lot of small scars.

He also has a few burn marks from learning to control his powers.

He has a circular scar on his right calf he got from fitting Killer Croc (actually, he took the last cookie and Damian bit him).

Barbara

Gunshot wound and surgery scars from the Joker.

Other than the main ones, has small scars here and there.