#absolute unequivocal love of my life

[steevejr]

im sorryyyy but one of the top ten gay tropes is the "i hate my gay roommate but only my roommate" to "just realized i was jealous and into him" pipeline. i know everyone on reddit posting this exact story on r/amitheasshole every week are fujoshis lying for clout but it never stops being funny. top ten of all time.

[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 3)

Part one

Part two

There's SO MUCH excellent meta out there right now, and I'm going to try not to reinvent the wheel too much, but I want to keep going with tying the episodes/ elements up together because on first watch it wasn't entirely clear how everything fit. I also strongly recommend a rewatch, no matter what you felt about the ending... if you need to stop it 10 minutes early, do that, but you pick up so much more the second time around.

So: Maggie and Nina. I spent most of my first watch wondering why we were bothering with them, honestly. Later in the season Nina, and then Maggie and Nina, gave Crowley some insightful advice, but their actual relationship didn't progress despite all the meddling, and the amount of emotional investment BOTH Aziraphale and Crowley had in making them get together was frankly strange.

I started thinking in terms of mirror couples, since that was such a big deal in S1 and that's clearly what they were set up to be, but I made the mistake that all of us made on first watch: that Nina was Crowley and Maggie was Aziraphale. It still wasn't really coming together.

Then I put the psych hat back on and started to think about displacement. Displacement is a defense mechanism, and it consists of satisfying an impulse (usually an unconscious one) with a substitute object. At the beginning of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley aren't really in a good place, and I think on some level they know that. Aziraphale is trying to SHOW Crowley that he wants to take the next step through all the casual touches and phone calls and inviting him in, and feeling frustrated because Crowley doesn't seem to be taking the bait. (I absolutely think that Aziraphale tried to get Crowley to stay with him at the bookshop instead of living in his CAR, and Crowley said no. That's a whole other meta.) Meanwhile, Crowley, I think, is waiting for a Grand Gesture. Where did he go, as soon as Aziraphale brought up trying to get two humans to fall in love? Romantic tropes. Getting caught in the rain under an awning. A dramatic kiss that opens someone's eyes. That's the sort of thing he's always done, right? Big rescues, impassioned pleas on the street, fancy dinners, "give you a lift anywhere you want to go". He's defensive and guarded and unlikely to let someone in unless he's CERTAIN he won't be rejected, and Aziraphale's approaches are just too... quiet. No one's fault, they just don't speak the same language.

Then, they're handed the opportunity to make two humans fall in love, and they're both All In immediately. Look at Crowley's face when he summons the rainstorm. This is HUGE for him. Why? Because of displacement. Look at Aziraphale arranging the ball and being borderline deranged about it. They're both desperate to demonstrate what they think it takes for two people to move past their misunderstandings and fall in love. They can't do it for each other because the stakes are too high, and if either of them shows their cards unequivocally the vulnerability feels life-shattering. They're codependent and terrified of rejection and also, importantly, have no idea what they're doing when it comes to love. "Saw it in a film", Crowley says. Aziraphale's read about it in books. But they have zero practical experience.

Instead of learning to communicate, they try to say what they want to say through the medium of Maggie and Nina, up to and including the questionable moral decision to exert control over people's actions and thoughts during the ball. If I can just make this come out right, they both think, then things between us will be alright too. It HAS to come out right. They're attempting to gain some control over their own lives, over something that feels so overwhelming and shattering they can't look directly at it.

It doesn't come out right. Nina's relationship falls apart, but that doesn't mean she's in love with Maggie. While Crowley's stress-cleaning the bookshop to the music that played when Aziraphale got his books back in 1941 (just fuck me up David Arnold), they come in and tell him so. "I don't understand", says Crowley. Because it should have worked. Why didn't it work?

They tell him, of course. "You need to talk to each other. Say what you're really thinking." But here's the thing about communication: you have to learn it. You need to get the hang of expressing your feelings without blaming your partner, and separating intent from impact, and staying away from getting defensive and lashing out. No one has ever taught Aziraphale and Crowley how to do this. It's like Maggie and Nina put Crowley in front of a loom and asked him to recreate the Bayeux Tapestry. He doesn't have the skills; he's always going to get it wrong, even if he tries his hardest.

And he does try. But that's where Maggie and Nina the mirror couple, rather than Maggie and Nina the displacement relationship or Maggie and Nina the Greek chorus, come in. Aziraphale, as Nina, has just ended an incredibly toxic, invasive relationship with Heaven. A relationship that invaded every facet of his life, isolated him, and prevented him from being close to anyone else. "Rebound mess," Nina says. Aziraphale is a rebound mess. He's transferred the responsibility for his emotional wellness to Crowley. Crowley is the person he calls when he's in trouble, or (and this is key) when he wants to report a clever/ good thing he's done, or when he's bored. (At no point did Crowley reference Aziraphale calling him for a solicitous reason-- another problem.) Crowley is meant to take care of him. He forgets, I think, that Crowley is a person with his own wants and needs, just like Maggie and Nina are people with their own wants and needs who don't appreciate being messed with. (I think things would have been much different had Aziraphale BEEN THERE for Maggie and Nina's talk with Crowley, but he wasn't.)

And Maggie-as-Crowley? Lonely. Behind on rent, at risk of being evicted (it's important to note that Aziraphale saves Maggie from losing her record shop, as he couldn't save Crowley from losing his flat). Pining. Awkward. Revolving around Nina like a planet, to the extent that we don't get much of an impression of her otherwise. They realize, there at the end, that they both need to round themselves out before jumping into a relationship. Aziraphale and Crowley need that too. They need to take time apart and learn to be healthy on their own. Unfortunately they don't have the skills to get to that conclusion in a healthy way, so it all explodes in their faces and everything falls apart.

Aziraphale tries to teach Nina and Maggie to dance as a substitute for communication. Nina and Maggie try to teach Crowley communication as a substitute for the dance they've been doing around each other. That's the reason they're a part of the plot: they exist to demonstrate the way Aziraphale and Crowley might have succeeded in forging a better dynamic. Sadly, the boys' dance is too practiced and they got sucked right back into it.

It's okay, I think, that Nina and Maggie's storyline never really went anywhere. It wasn't supposed to. It's an allegory, not something that needs to stand alone.

[valsverse]

but i love her !

summary: to say that leo valdez is absolutely enamored with you would be an understatement. so, why don't you like him back?

pairing: leo valdez x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k

LEO VALDEZ does not just like you. no, it is much more than that.

leo's feelings for you surpass mere affection. his love for you is deep-rooted and unshakable, transcending the limitations of the heart and mind. he doesn't just love you with his heart, which can falter or stop altogether. nor does he solely love you with his mind, which may fail him one day. no, leo valdez loves you with every fiber of his being, every inch of his soul, and every essence of his existence. his love for you is all-encompassing, unequivocal, and forever enduring.

so why don't you like him back?

when you first arrived at camp, leo was immediately taken with you. while he had a reputation for falling for girls completely out of his league, this time was different. he knew deep down that he would do anything for you, even if it meant risking his own life. he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he realized this, but he was sure that you were the one he was meant to be with. despite piper's concerns, leo was undeterred in his pursuit of you.

as you sat at your usual table in the dining pavilion, enjoying dinner with your cabinmates, you were completely immersed in the moment. laughter filled the air as you chatted about your day and shared stories of past quests. just as you took a bite of your dinner, you heard your name being called out loudly and persistently. turning your head in the direction of the voice, you found leo standing right in front of your table. as you tried to recall any previous interactions with him, confusion washed over you. you've only ever spoken to the boy about a grand total of once, and you don't even remember giving him your name.

leo slipped into the empty seat next to you, his smile beaming as he waited for your reaction. gasps escaped the mouths of several of your cabinmates, because, well, isn't it forbidden to sit at another god's table?

“sooo, is this seat taken?” he asked suavely, and you mentally rolled your eyes at his attempt at charm, knowing exactly where this was going.

"well, it wouldn't matter if it's taken or not, because you aren't supposed to be sitting here in the first place."

he only smiled dreamily, seemingly unfazed by your response. the tension in the air grew thicker, and someone let out a snort, unable to contain their amusement at the situation.

it took you a moment to piece together what was happening. leo's sudden changes in behavior around you, the not-so-subtle glances, the smiles, and the way his eyes would light up - it all made sense now, although you didn't want to admit it. leo valdez had a crush on you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

leo leaned forward on the table, his chin resting on his hand. he was brimming with enthusiasm, and you couldn't help but feel just slightly uncomfortable in his presence. "can i ask you something?" he inquired eagerly, his eyes fixed on you.

you sighed inwardly, not wanting to engage but feeling obligated to respond. "do i have a choice?" you quipped, attempting to mask your discomfort. leo didn't seem to notice, too caught up in his own enthusiasm.

suddenly, he pulled out a metal rose from his pocket, presenting it to you with a flourish. "wanna be my girlfriend?" he asked, a hopeful expression on his face.

your siblings snickered around you as your eyes widened in absolute horror. your face felt hot with embarrassment as you struggled to maintain your composure.

"i practically just met you!" you protested, feeling the need to state the obvious.

he had clearly anticipated a different response, going so far as to prepare a metal bouquet in anticipation of impressing you. however, his efforts were in vain. "i'm sorry, but no." you replied firmly, not giving him any room for negotiation.

it was clear that this was not a successful attempt at romance.

from that day on, it had become the norm for leo to actively pursue you, as he had made it his mission to win your heart. you couldn't deny that he put in a great deal of effort. and he was plenty consistent. for months.

you couldn't help but notice his constant presence, as he seemed to magically appear everywhere you went, making it impossible for you to ignore him.

despite his persistent efforts, leo never pressured you into anything you were not comfortable with. he respected your boundaries and always made sure that he did not cause you any discomfort. it was clear that he adored you, but he never allowed his feelings to dictate his actions towards you.

interestingly enough, it was the reason behind your initial hatred for leo that began to fade away. unfortunately for you, once that seed of doubt was planted, there was no going back. you found yourself unable to justify your previous animosity towards him, in fact, you began to feel guilty for the ill feelings you harbored towards the boy.

after leo's clumsy attempts at asking you out, things became quite awkward between the two of you. you did everything in your power to avoid him, convincing yourself that you loathed him. however, despite your best efforts to push him away, the universe seemed to conspire to bring the two of you together. in fact, you even found yourselves forming an unlikely bond that some might even consider a friendship. leo would somehow magically appear in the same places you happened to be (though he always insisted it was a coincidence), and you found yourself unable to shoo him away as you used to do. yet, despite this newfound closeness, leo's attempts to win your heart remained as elaborate and over-the-top as ever.

from writing your name in fire surrounded by a heart, to asking you out with grand gestures and signs, he never seemed to give up. unfortunately for him, all of his efforts were met with either an indifferent stare or a frown.

maybe your feelings towards leo had changed somewhat, but that did not make him any less unbearable.

"i just don't get it!" leo complained to piper during free time that day. "i thought me and y/n were making progress, but today she didn't even look at me!"

piper paused from sharpening her dagger and looked up at leo. "what makes you think you were making progress?"

"she let me sit next to her yesterday."

piper couldn't help but let out a laugh, quickly covering it up with a cough. "that was for like two minutes," she scoffed.

leo's face fell. "but i swear i saw her wink at me a few days ago!" he protested.

"she was only blinking in your general direction."

leo mock-glared at the girl. "seriously, you're like an aphrodite kid, aren't you supposed to know this stuff?"

piper rolled her eyes. "shut up. okay, but seriously, come on. think about it. leo, you tend to get infatuated easily and your crushes never last. it's inconsistent. she probably thinks your feelings for her will change once you find someone new."

leo took a step back, not expecting her answer. "but that's not gonna happen!" he retorted, eyes wide with exasperation. "i love her, i swear!"

"prove it to her then." piper responded, running her fingers through her choppy locks. "go find her and prove it."

and that's exactly what he was going to do.

it's been days since you last saw leo. the usual sight of him following you around, asking to hold your tote bag, or just plain flirting with you is now a distant memory. your tote bag, which he usually holds for you, is now slipping off your shoulder as you sit alone with a feeling of emptiness. you've only seen him run in and out of the workshop, waving at you with the same fire in his eyes but not speaking to you. you keep looking for his head of curly hair everywhere you go, but the inevitable disappointment strikes you every time it isn't him.

although you had been trying to deny it, the truth was that you missed leo terribly. despite his occasional obnoxious flirtations, he was actually quite easy to be around — even more than that, even. maybe you had developed feelings for him that ran much deeper than you ever anticipated. you've been grappling with your emotions for quite some time now, and you were certain that your mask of indifference had already slipped off without your knowledge. you slumped against the wall you were leaning on, feeling the weight of your emotions.

if leo were here, he would have moved you to somewhere you could sit more comfortably, instead of a damn wall. if leo were here, he would have taken your tote bag off your shoulder already, making sure you were not burdened with anything. the absence of his presence now makes you realize just how much he meant to you and how much you miss him.

you pushed yourself off the wall you were leaning against, making your way back to your cabin to sulk, when it happened.

you spotted leo approaching you. his strides were large and purposeful, and you could practically see the determination in his eyes. you could tell he had just emerged from the workshop, his face smeared with soot, but that didn't seem to bother him at all. before you could even react, he had his arms on your shoulders, shaking his head as he gasped for breath, clearly winded from whatever he had been up to. "i've been looking for you everywhere," he said urgently, not giving you a chance to respond.

"okay, look. you know i like you, y/n. you're not like anyone else i've ever met. you're kind, and smart, and funny, and beautiful. and i know that sounds like a lot of flattery, but it's true. i don't think i've ever met anyone who makes me feel the way you do. you make me feel alive, and happy, and.. stuff. and i don't wanna lose that. don't wanna lose you."

he took a deep breath, then continued, "i'm not going to pretend that it was always you, because i've liked other girls before, when i didn't really know what liking someone meant. what i felt for them is not even comparable to what i feel for you right now. it hasn't always been you, but from now on it will."

"i can tell you feel the same way too, even if you try to hide it. you always have a little grin on your face when i come around, and i know you still keep all the things i made for you in your cabin, even though you act like you don't care. but i get it, you're scared. that's okay. i'll prove to you that there's nothing to be afraid of. i'll be devoted and take on more responsibility, because you inspire me to try harder. if you could just give me one chance."

he took a couple steps closer, reaching for your hand, and intertwining his fingers with yours when you didn't pull away. looking deeply into your eyes, he adjusted his grip, his crooked grin indicating that he had rehearsed what he was about to say.

"i guess what i'm trying to say is..." he trailed off, and then pulled out a metal rose from his pocket, just like the one he had given you when he first asked you out. however, this one was special, its intricate patterns reflecting everything that reminded him of you.

"wanna be my girlfriend?" he asked, just like he had all those months ago.

you didn't even hesitate, you just pulled him in by the fabric of his shirt and slotted his lips with yours into a long-awaited, giddy kiss.

a/n

ookaayyy it's been a while since i've read the books so leo may be a slightly ooc here?? or not?? y'all i don't know i'm trying. 😭😭

xx val

[gumiluver]

I'm begging you on my knees, can you write a little more of bully Toji???

oh heck yea I can luv, ‘bouta speak some straight facts about bully!toji >:) <3

cover pic credit: @/miywao on pinterest | border credit: @/cafekitsune

luver <3: afab!reader x fushiguro/zen’in toji

byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18, minors please do not interact (you will be blocked!) | wc: ~500

cw: toxic relationships, mean/bully toji, degradation, exhibition (slightly), possessiveness, guest appearance w shiu :D

an: this is my first time doing a drabble so pls pls plssss tell me your guys’ thoughts!! inbox & requests are open as always!! <3

bully!toji has a mouth on him, unlike that of any of the men you’ve ever met before. his words are much meaner than his actions, calling you all sorts of nasty little names as he bullies his cock in your womb, “piece a fuckin’ work you are, gonna slut ya out real good.” <3

bully!toji scolds you like a father, knowing it hits on a much deeper, psychological level. he knows it’s fucked up, but that’s what entices him to you in the first place—loving the way you fold so easily once he’s got you laying over his lap, scolding you like the misbehaving brat that you’ve been, “how many fuckin’ times I gotta spank ya before you learn your lesson eh? Don’t mouth off t’ me again, brat.” <3

bully!toji has no mercy, dueling out punishments to the full extent. no amount of kickin’ or cryin’ could get you away from him and his arsenal of ‘weapons’ fully loaded and ready to make you bend to his will and submit—like the good girl he knows you can be, “don’t start strugglin’ now brat, you dug your grave—now fuckin’ lie in it.” <3

bully!toji absolutely looooves it when the waterworks come to play, your teary eyes matching your slick pussy as they each let drops of your essence roll down along your flesh, trailing sweet little lines or toji to lick and kiss as he bites and sucks at your flesh. the single act of kindness he’ll do for you before he ravishes you to completion, “fuuuuck…who knew such a spoiled lil princess could taste so fuckin’ sweet.” <3

bully!toji doesn’t really care if you apologize for your bratty behavior, it’s waaaay too late for that, but he does think it’s cute—he can’t help but be a big softy for you internally, his heart clenching in agony at your huffs of frustration. but how else were you gonna learn? sending you off without any consequences would be a disservice to you—that’s what he keeps tellin’ himself as he continues pistoning his hips into you at a bruising pace, not letting up even when you beg, “ya had your chance pretty thing, don’t think battin’ your eyelashes and poutin’ will get ya outta this one.” <3

bully!toji purposefully messes with you too, loving how you get so flustered, so wound up. he’ll watch you scrunch your brows in anger, stomp your feet a little louder as you sashay your hips away from him, “where do ya think your goin’ girl? ya better get that pretty ass of your back over here if you know what’s good for ya.” <3

bully!toji knows your bratty mouth is all just a little act, “his little drama queen,” he’ll say to Shiu whenever the two of you are at each others throats in front of him. toji doesn’t mind it one bit tho, it just means he gets to play with you for longer, and maybe with an audience just this once, “if I didn’t know any better I woulda missed that sass slip between that nasty mouth a yours—whaddaya’ think Shiu? should we train that mouth better?” <3

and while bully!toji may seem to completely and unequivocally despise you to his hearts content, he realizes that you’ve been the only person in his life that has made him feel so passionate, so alive—it makes him mad with desire to a point where all he can think of is making you his and only his brat, “don’t get it twisted now doll, your mine. I don’t care who I gotta fuck up to make it known to everyone but you. are. mine—got it?” <3

As always, likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

[littelestvic]

About Bluza and The Destruction of the Femenine Fantasy

Hello! I haven't talked about Joker Out in a hot moment. Today, after the release of Bluza and the reading of some dissapointed critiques on the nature of the MV, I wanted to talk about how I think Bluza has presented us with the most clever and interesting MV since A Sem Ti Povedal.

On purpose or not. (Probably the later)

So, let's talk about Bluza (The Song) for a second. A beautiful ballad about yearning for a woman, it's beautiful, it's romantic, it's idylic, it's perfect.

"Tonight you're my muse" that's beautiful! It's almost like you want that muse. You want to pretend it's you who Bojan is talking about. You want to be her.

So I was kinda in awe when Zoran broke a bottle on Bojan's head while the woman he was so enthusiastically singing about just protects herself in a bit of horror.

I found it fascinating how the beautiful instrumental notes just kept drifting away almost in a hypnotic matter while the rest of the men in the room broke into a violent fight.

During my stance on the Joker Out fandom I've come to realize how we have constructed what I can only describe as a Fantasy. And it makes sense: this is a mostly femenine-driven fan base (and as a transmasc person I will include myself here too) yearning to think they're the epitome of a Perfect Man. And how wouldn't Joker Out be perfect, when they're so beautiful and talented and write and perform the most beautiful and romantic ballads? We have unequivocally constructed the "Perfect men" fantasy around a bunch of people that, in the end of the day, are nothing more than your average men.

This is something that will forever happen in boybands, of course and I do not say it's Bad and you Suck because you idealize a bunch of guys (I do too). But Souvenir Pop feels like it wants to be a record about the new experiences after the last year, and you kinda need to understand how shocking it might be for a bunch of 20-year-olds from Slovenia to be nothing one day, and the personalization of perfection for millions of girls around the world on the next one.

And Bluza (the song) plays perfectly into this Fantasy. It's beautiful and perfect and romantic like how any other Joker Out ballad needs to be because that's what we want from them and that's what we demand from them: Idealized perfection.

So you could imagine the reactions to some fans when they found out that Bluza (the MV) plays into toxic masculinity, objectification of women, and violence. They weren't very happy about that.

Because yes! I DO think this song plays into the idea of objectifying women. I think they portray this random woman as nothing but an object of desire while Bojan has the absolute guts to sing into this lady he has never seen before in his whole life and knows absolutely nothing about (but she's pretty, at least) that Tonight, she is his muse.

And I think it's amazing, how I've read statements like "Bluza MV objectifies women" and "I do not care much about what happened in Bluza MV as long and the guys just stand there and look pretty" all coexist in the same environment. Because I think it's actually very interesting how they objectify a woman almost in the same way as the fandom objectifies them. Because at the end of the day they're nothing more than objects of attraction for many of us.

And I find it kinda fitting how they spend most of the MV just Standing there, almost awkwardly and clumsily, not even caring enough to pretend effectively that they're playing whatever instrument they were given, while Bojan sings beautiful lyrics of yearn and love to the nothingless.

So yes, I do believe Bluza MV is fitting. Is fitting in the sense I find very clever how they subverted the theme of the song to talk about the expectation the fandom has towards them to follow their fantasies of the perfect man.

Now, do I think this was all made on purpose? Well, no. Not at all. I think this reading is nothing more than a coincidence. I do believe they did try their best to make a MV just about being in love or whatever but it came out tacky, and I do not care at all about that reading.

But a meta-reading about the MV is not really that out of place when you take other things they've done. Take for example how A Sem Ti Povedal, how the song is also a very typical love song but then the MV also plays with themes of idealization and fantasy.

[rotthepoet]

Pookie pookie lemme tell u ☹️ I ughhh like Lorenzo so much (not as much as I like u ofc wink wonk w rizz 🌚) but I would neverrrrrr irl entertained the idea of being w him (bros a s-tier asshole)

SO THIS GAVE ME A REQUEST IDEA

There's Lorenzo who's...well Lorenzo. And then there's us 😻 the it-girl 😻 academic weapon, got our life together, ambitious n too smart to fall for Lorenzo's bs and won't give him the time of our day🤞😩

Essentially I'm saying I'm craving for a girl boss x pathetic Lorenzo trope n headcanons ☹️

Btw that new Mattheo fic was so intense got me fanning my face

- 🎹

ONG BABES IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET TO BUT IM HERE FOR YOU NOW POOKIE!!!

Because Lorenzo thinks he is ALL THAT and some, when in reality hes just a pretty face with rizz. Hes not a genius, and his personality doesnt offer any redeeming qualities, so when he sees you??? God youre so perfect. Absolutely everything he wants, everything he wants to be. You’d make him look perfect, he’d be perfect next to you

Lowkey his pining after you is a power move before it fails and he becomes unequivocally whipped.

He’s literally on his knees begging for you, offering to carry your bag or books between classes, i mean he is TRYING SO DAMN HARD

But you’re independent, pookie. You are a GIRL BOSS!! YOU DONT NEED HIS SHIT!

And so Enzo tries a different approach. Buying your love! Every single day, without fail, you have a new present. A new necklace, a new perfume, a new dress, and these things are not cheap in any way. He is trying to SPOIL YOU and when you so humbly ask him to take it back, he refuses, and says he’ll only take them back if you agree to a date with him.

At least the gifts are cute, because thats not happening.

And fuck he’s becoming so pathetic for you, going out of his way to be a gentleman for you. Holding open doors, paying for your bill at the three broomsticks.

Maybe if hes lucky, you’ll give him a little kiss on the cheek for being so sweet.

[liyazaki]

"specially abled" and "disabled" are absolutely, unequivocally not interchangeable terms. & yeah, it actually is that deep.

I wish my autoimmune disease made me specially abled instead of regularly ill. I'm a pro now at managing constantly-changing treatment regimens, coordinating monthly (if not more) doctor visits & endless bloodwork, but alas- that's not a superpower. it's the day-to-day reality of living with a disability.

I can only speak as a someone who was relatively healthy before I got sick, but the mourning period I went through was brutal. getting diagnosed with an incurable disease brings a metric fuckton of grief with it, requiring a huge perspective shift.

I'm an intensely independent, self-reliant person- sometimes to my own detriment. unsurprisingly, coming to terms with this new reality was no small task.

when I was finally diagnosed, I made a playlist (my go-to coping mechanism). I played one song on a loop because of its namesake line, & it still packs an emotional gut-punch for me: "I needed to lose you to love me."

I was angry at my body for 'failing' me- for having zero control over such an all-important outcome (my health). I had to reconcile myself to the reality that my life was different now. I had to lose my old view of myself to love the new version that needed more sleep, more sick days, more accommodations.

it took me years to get comfortable using the term "disability" to help describe what's now a big part of my lived experience (especially since mine is invisible). it went from being a foreign term I could've never imagined using for myself to my bridge to self acceptance.

(note: I have my own complex relationship with the term, as do most people. I’m talking about the harm in equating terms here, not implying that anyone should use these words to describe themselves. that’s entirely up to the individual.)

there's nothing romantic about my disease- a quality that "specially abled" imbues for me. do I- & all disabled people- have special abilities, valuable experience & unique skills? you bet your ass we do. one has absolutely nothing to do with the other.

every person has the right to choose the terms they're comfortable with to describe their experience. for me? treating "disability" like a dirty word 1) glosses over (if not entirely erases) the very real, life-altering struggle inherent to my condition, & 2) muddies the waters, potentially making it even more difficult for disabled people to get the accommodations we need when we need them.

using terms like "specially abled" isn't some evil, awful thing, though. if anything, it tells me that the person is trying to be delicate & respectful with their word choices. I genuinely appreciate that, even if it's misguided (in my opinion).

when in doubt? listen to how people describe themselves. honor them by using the same descriptors (unless they tell you otherwise). choose to believe people when they tell you how terms affect them.

forgive yourself if you don't always get it right- who does? perfection isn't the point- effort is the point. kindness is the point. respect is the point. how we get there is as varied as people, but it starts with the words we use.

[xxx-theartofsuicide-xxx]

Concept: what if sometimes Lydia asks BJ to show her some alternate reality dreams where they’re in conflict, or where they’re falling in love all over again in different ways, because she’s just curious and creative and likes thinking about their relationship from a bunch of different angles? And he’s a simp, of course, so he’d show her whatever enemies-to-lovers AUs she wants to sorta-live out, possibly including ones where waking up next to him is a “nightmare” that she had to wake up from… and then she could wake up for realsies and be happy to see him

Maybe the whole marriage-bargain thing from BJBJ was a fantasy of hers to sort of give herself plausible deniability from admitting that she really does want an unhinged wedding. Kinda like how many women have fantasies about non-consensual sexual encounters in part because then it’s like, even in their imagination, they’re still pure and virtuous and someone’s just forcing them, it’s not like they have desires of their own that they’re fantasizing about! So the wedding in the movie could’ve been a fantasy of like, “noo I’m a good girl in a dubiously-consensual wedding, I’m not to blame for this, I had to marry him for my daughter’s sake! It’s not like I’m into his freak vibe!!!” and then when she wakes up with him she’s unequivocally into his freak vibe, but sometimes the girlies gotta go into their fantasy world to subconsciously work out some lingering shame

Idk I like to think Lydia's noncon fantasies would be spicier than that, especially at this stage in her life. But I do agree with you that Betelgeuse absolutely would indulge Lydia any fantasy she desired.

I'm pretty sure BJ2 is all about Lydia wanting to be a mother and Betelgeuse fulfilling that wish. He's a jealous guy. It's not easy for him to let her go traipsing through the ether having imaginary relationships with imaginary men, but it's worth it to give her what she wants; Astrid.

[agustsmuse]

Slow Dancing | KNJ

Pairing: Boyfriend!Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Unspecified

Synopsis: A simple slow dance with your favourite human.

WC: 718

Posted: 15 September 2023

You sleepily rub your eyes still dazed from sleep, snuggling further into your boyfriends arms who was still wide awake finishing a book ‘he just couldn’t put down’.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He asks in his rough honey tone.

"I had a thought today and it's playing on my mind."

"Go on.."

“I want to slow dance.”

His lips curl into a small smile, chuckling softly. "You can't sleep because you want to slow dance?"

“Yup.” You flutter your eyelashes with a soft pout on your lips. It always gets you what you want from Joon.

A smile breaks out on his face, his eyes softly looking back at you, “What time is it?”

You glance at your phone, suddenly feeling guilty realising the time and your odd request. 

“It’s 12:09.”

“What song?”

"You know that song It's Been A Long Long Time?"

“Aish, from Endgame? You've been spending to much time with JK.”

"Would you prefer me to ask him?" 

He instantly bolts up out of bed, book flying across the bedroom, offering you his hand, “Can I have this dance?”

You can’t help the giant smile that grows on your face, literally jumping out of bed and grab his hand. Namjoon pulls you into his arms, one hand intertwining with yours, bringing in close to his chest, the other resting on the small of your back. You slip your free arm around his waist while smooshing your face into his pillow like peck. The two of you gently sway to the music, in solitude in each others arms, the world around you completely melting away, the whole world at a stand still except the two of you.

You look up to Namjoon who was already looking down at you with a soft smile on his lips, disbelief washing over you that this man is yours. Feeling so incredibly lucky that he choose you. Was lucky even the right word? You didn't know if it was enough to express how incredibly surreal it felt that you got to call him yours. No words feel adequate enough to express your love and gratitude.

If only you knew he was thinking the exact same thing. His love, his baby, his everything. Absolutely, undeniably, unequivocally in love with you.

‘It's good practice’ He whispers as softly as he could before he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, nose then lips, letting his lips linger before turning to rest his face on top your head as you leaned yours back against his chest.

Too peaceful in that moment to realise the full extent of what he'd just implied, you softly hum in response, getting lost in the sound of his steady heartbeat and warmth of his bare chest.

The song started to fade and you felt Namjoon shift, reaching for his phone to pick another song, you presumed. You were beyond lost in your own world at this point to even care what was happening around you.

K. by Cigarettes After Sex started playing.

The melody made you feel sleepy, so you held him that little bit tighter and he followed suit, lifting you gently onto his feet so you could still dance with him but he was doing most.. well... all of the work. Not that he minded. He was enjoying the moment more than he ever thought he would. Having you practically molded to him, letting the music take you both far away from the busy life's you both lead. It was in moments you shared like this he knew he found the right one. His forever.

"And I'm kissing you lying in my room, holding you until you fall asleep and it's just as good as I knew it would be stay with me, I don't want you to leave" He sang in a soft whisper, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your heart flutters and butterflies fill your stomach, a smile pulling on the corners of your lips, enjoying the rare moment that Namjoon sings, without acting like he can't.

Love didn't get any better than this.

At least, not yet.

Authors Note: In honour of Namjoon saying it's his favourite song from Layover. Thank you @lifeinakpopbubble for proof reading and helping me with song ideas!

Tagging: @sopebubbles-reads

[sseniita]

medical malpractice

cw injuries, whump-adjacent, malpractice of the medical kind (?)

To say the villain was bored was an understatement. They led a dreadfully, unequivocally, dangerously, dull life. They had achieved their goals months ago, enacting a plan years in the making and swiftly took control over the city. It was easier than expected, both the killing and the politics. Now, having everything they’ve ever wanted, they questioned why this desire in the first place? 

They barely had fun with the various heroes who tried to stop them, pathetic attempts at most. Bombs, guns, punches, it all didn’t mean too much to a healer. Other villains called it ironic, the villain’s own mother insisted on the villain pursuing medicine- she didn’t seem to complain about her child’s career now that the villain had put her in a luxury home on some sunny island. Yes, the villain was bored; sat rotting away on the mayor’s chair- with absolutely nothing to do but polish their mask and listen to the protestors gathering on the steps of city hall. 

Oh? The villain thought. They’re quite rowdy today. 

Before the villain could kick their legs off the desk a group of heroes barged into the office, guns blazing, yelling obscenities at the villain. Charming. They put their mask on and skillfully and elegantly the villain took each of them down one by one. The heroes obviously hadn’t healed from their previous encounter with the villain. All the villain had to do was hit them in the same spot to send them calling a retreat and running out of the office, revealing a lonely individual in the doorway. 

The villain didn’t break a sweat, setting their eyes on the new hero, practically trembling from fear. They stood frozen in perfect fighting form watching from the doorway. 

“You're new.” The villain tilted their head curiously at the hero, recognizing the symbol they had haphazardly tied to their thigh. “Ah, I see.” The villain’s finger lazily spun a dagger they swung out of its holster. “You’re Superhero’s little protege. Oh! He would be so proud if he saw you there trembling in fear.” 

The villain noticed they had struck a chord within the hero, dodging before the hero could land a hit. “Ooh, so close!” 

The hero seemed to burst alive, they continued to try and try and try, shooting out powered rays, breaking windows, doors and wreaking havoc as they followed the villain through city hall. The villain, merrily laughing all the way, having the time of their life. They had avoided many close calls to certain death but with each one they dodged, they laughed harder, perhaps it was their first laugh in years. Their mask had fallen off long ago, but the villain couldn’t be bothered to care. The villain landed a good deal of hits on the hero, causing them to trail blood on the carpet, couches and anything else the hero was thrown into. The hero continued like this until the villain got bored and threw a punch to the hero’s ribs, knocking them down and leaving them unable to turn themselves to get up. 

“Oh ho ho! You are fun! Lord, much more fun than your little friends who ran before anything got interesting.” The villain paced slowly towards the hero. The hero obviously tried to hide their whimpers of pain, but a kick to their ribs was enough to make them howl. “Awe, you overdid it, didn’t you, sweetheart?” 

If looks could kill, the villain would have been six feet under; the hatred in the little hero’s eyes was intoxicating to the villain. If the villain didn’t know any better; they would have thought themselves in love. 

“You’re short. How old are you? Superhero died…” they pursed their lips in thought, “2 years ago? You were a teenager, then. Hmm, 21, 22?” they finally said. 

“You killed them!” the hero spat. 

“That I did. What’s your deal, hm? Avenging your fallen master, are you? How mature.” 

“You’re a monster!” The villain tutted. 

“No, no. Enough with the insults. You seem to be above that, my little firework.” The villain used their foot to turn the hero onto their back, they crouched down and took hold of the hero’s cheeks; squishing them. 

“You’re cute.” the villain smiled at the hero, almost kindly. Before the hero could spit out another curse, the villain squeezed harder to shut them up. “Your mission is admirable. If not a little annoying. But this has been the most fun I’ve had since this godforsaken city surrendered.” There were shouts from outside. Backup. 

With a sigh, the villain smiled at the hero. “I’ll cut you a deal. You get better, and I’ll give you another shot at me.” They winked, much to the hero’s horror. 

“You broke my ribs.” The hero groaned. In response, the villain took this as an invitation to feel up the hero’s chest. 

“Only… hmm. About 13 or so of them.” The hero coughed up some blood. “Maybe more. Wish I could help but…” they stuttered. Looking at the hero; hunched over on the floor, their smartest idea popped into their head. “Oh. My, my, my, firework. You just might be the best thing that’s happened to me.” 

“You’re sick.” They growled, trying to crawl up and away. 

“Yes, yes. Come on, stand up.” They grabbed the hero by the arm, enjoying their shouts of pain and the way they tried- and failed- to wring out of the villain’s grasp. The villain wrapped their arm around the hero and set them on a couch, ignoring their shouts to let them go. 

The villain was called a healer, but this knowledge wasn’t widely known. They were known for their more terrifying ability to control any biological body. They had the ability to kill with a touch; control blood pressure, suppress hormones, destroy senses, manipulate memories. They used this ability wisely and sparingly, preferring to use their knowledge on their human body to always have the advantage. This power was very misunderstood between the heroes, they never cracked the code, and they would have never believed it to reach such lengths. 

“Look at me.” The hero was very obviously terrified. Confused at the sudden mercy- if you could call it that- they shut their eyes tight, remembering all the warnings about the fearsome villain. Their mind went a million miles a second- trying to find a way out. They has seen the villain’s face, they had a chance to get an advantage. 

“You and I are going to get along swiftly. But I need you at your peak. Constantly.” They smiled, not unlike the hero though the devil would. 

“I’ll kill you.” 

“And I’ll be looking forward to see you try.” 

“Once I heal I’ll get you, I promise.” they snapped, feverishly staring daggers into the villain’s eyes. 

“Yes, of course. But that’ll take too long don’t you think?” 

“Oh don’t worry, no amount of time will stop me- I’ll keep coming back until you’re dead.” They threatened. The wicked grin on the villain’s only grew, the hero began to feel a pit in their stomach- why weren’t they dead yet they thought. 

“Well, I’m not the patient type.” They set their hands on either side of the hero’s head, sticking their thumbs into their temples. “Don't worry though. I’m sure you’ll heal in a jiffy, my little firework.” 

The hero’s vision grew blurry and their head went fuzzy. The villain’s face swirled until it was barely recognizable, a final attempt to remember their face came in a hazy image of the Cheshire cat. 

///

Hero’s mission to defeat the villain had been futile. They’d discuss it daily with other heroes and planned raids once a week. Hero began to wonder if the villain knew they were coming, month after month the villain was always prepared. The villain had seemed to take a personal grudge against them, never holding back. But no matter what, the hero was always ready to go back. Since the first time they met, the villain was an elusive, mysterious being, and the hero was committed to destroying that illusion. 

The hero would return after a siege bloody and bruised, aching and sprained. They lost count how many times the villain had broken their arm, leg, cracked some ribs, scraped some skin. They were barely recognizable without their arm in a sling or a bruise on their cheek. Even when life seems unbearable they knew the healer would always be there for them. 

They had found the healer months back and they joined the team immediately. They were a godsend. 4 week healing times would be shortened to a weekend, not only were they incredibly useful and talented in their position, they were charming too. They carried a smile wherever they went and seemed to have taken a liking to the hero- their most frequent patient. 

Limping and trailing blood, the hero made their way towards the infirmary inside the base. Weakly opening the frosted glass doors, their eyes met the healer's, seated at their desk. Hero smiled at them and promptly plopped down on the examination table. 

“Well. That was quick. Did you miss me?” The healer rolled their chair towards the hero, setting their hands casually on the hero’s knees. 

“Yep. Even broke my arm just to see you.” The chimed back. The healer chuckled, standing up and examining their arm. 

“Hmm. Nothing major.” They grabbed their stethoscope, placing it on their chest. The hero didn’t need instruction to begin breathing methodically for them. The whole examination could have been done blindfolded and without a word. An action so familiar it was almost comforting. The hero would lean into the healer’s hands against their limbs, warming with the healer's power, the ache of which felt like a much needed massage. The healer spoke in a soft, instructing voice, something the hero only ever got from Superhero. The dull grief of losing the Superhero was still there, but the healer seemed to heal their broken soul as they did their broken bones. 

“You’re all set.” The healer said, power fading from their palms.

��How much longer till I get back out there, Doc?” 

“Give yourself a day or two.” They said, wiping away the blood on hero's nose as they would the snot on a child, the hero couldn’t help but be embarrassed. With a sigh, the hero started. 

“Great, so in less than a week I’ll be back. Right at square one.” 

“Oh, don’t think like that. You're close I know it.” 

“Well, I’m glad you think so. The other heroes are starting to have doubts.” 

“Don’t listen to them.” The healer grabbed the hero’s jaw softly, caressing it with their thumb. The hero did all they could to not melt into their touch. “You’re so extraordinary. So special. None of those heroes even come close to matching your power, you know that, right?” They pulled a strand of hero's hair from their face. "Superhero would be so proud."

The hero blushed. “You’re just saying that because I single handedly keep you busy; I know how bored you get here.” The healer smiled back, leaning in to give the hero a peck on the forehead. 

“Don’t tell anyone but you’re my favourite patient.” 

The hero failed in not melting under the healer’s gaze, they were smiling ear to ear.  

“Can’t I just stay here, forever?” They said in a hazy, drunk sort of way. “I’ve forgotten how it feels to have bones that work for longer than a few days.” The healer chuckled. 

“Maybe someday, but for now, you have to get back out there and give the villain a fight they’ll never forget, don’tcha firework?” The healer winked and the hero could barely contain the butterflies in their stomach.

[nanistar]

one of the reasons that i like jaybriar so much is because i’m a sucker for long, slow burn relationships that develop naturally over time, and warriors doesn’t have very many of those. they start out as patient/doctor, then they become friends, then they become close friends and after that it feels natural for them to share a nest and curl up together. firestar and sandstorm develop naturally over 6 books, which is about a year and a half and you grow with them. they were rivals, then friends and then mates. it feels natural. bristlefrost and rootspring weren’t even friends.

briarlight gets injured just before she turns one year old, and then she dies at about 5 and a half, and jayfeather is about 6. that’s 4.5 years of living with jayfeather in the medicine den. they have spent a majority of their life together, and were together through major tragedies like hollyleaf’s real death and the great battle. she starts out as his patient, before a verdict is reached and she’s told she can’t be a “full warrior” (not getting into that now.)  after she gets well enough to start moving around again, he helps her with her exercises and stretches (as is his job) and keeps her spirits up and reminds her that she’s a valuable member of the Clan even if she can’t do typical warrior activities and he helps her come up with jobs to do, and then she is referred to as “jayfeather’s assistant” several times in the actual text (this progression from patient to assistant happens over about 2 books iirc). she very much does not put up with his grumpy bullshit, she’s shown talking back at him and they have a lot of back-and-forth banter. they’re shown to have a very close bond at this point, sharing a first Close moment when he comes back from the tunnels soaking wet and he lays beside her as she grooms him dry, and he falls asleep like that. he refuses to take her as his apprentice because he doesn’t want her to feel forced into the job like he was, or cinderpelt before him, but he teaches her a lot and she is shown sorting herbs, preparing herbs for him, and helping out with small remedies which helps her stay positive and gain confidence and feel “useful”, and he trusts her to do so (especially compared to how much he micromanaged and didn’t trust alderpaw at first). and she comforts him after the gathering where he is accused of killing flametail, taking care of him and again grooming him to sleep, and then fetching food for him in the morning. he encourages her and helps her work on her goal of climbing a tree with just her front legs. she’s the first person he thinks of when rocks start falling into the quarry, throwing himself over her to protect her. he blames himself for her death, and he chokes up to the point where he can’t continue speaking and alderheart has to take over when trying to speak at her vigil.

the two have two major gestures; jayfeather massages briarlight’s back and hind quarters, which yeah, is a medicinal thing, but it’s also an intimate gesture. cats kneed as a comfort thing. idk it’s the close skin-to-skin (fur-to-fur?) contact. it’s different when millie or alderpaw do it. it would be different if they were humans. and then the other gesture, is briarlight grooming him to sleep. he allows himself to relax only for her, and is comforted by her. not an easy feat for emotionally constipated jayfeather. i never see these two actually talking about being mates or talking about their relationship at all, and they would absolutely deny it if anyone ever asked them. but they have a very deep bond, are unequivocally and undeniably in love with each other. it just sorta... happened. it makes sense for them. their physical and emotional closeness feels natural to them because it just is.

(additionally, i’m not making this post to defend them or convince anyone! just to think out loud about them, essentially. i saw a few folks tag my most recent jaybriar post as qpp and honestly if you see them more that way, that’s awesome. if you don’t sip them at all, hell yeah. peace and love on planet warrior cats)

[sky-kiss]

Sending prompt for Dadphael! Maybe the kids getting in trouble but Raphael is low key proud they managed to pull it off. I just need Dadphael in my life and I love baby Orin.

A/N: I can do this. Not the best, but hopefully you chuckle.

Dadphael: He Shouldn't Be Surprised, He Robbed His Dad Too

Raphael's first reaction is blinding rage. A voice in his head screaming how has it come to this? How, in the name of the gods above and below, by all of Asmodeus' grace, could his spawn have been so colossally, unequivocally stupid?

His second reaction is begrudging respect. 

He settles somewhere in the middle, screwing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. In the most even tone he can manage, the devil says, "Explain your vision."  

Orin's brow furrows. In contrast to her brother, who has adopted an expression of absolute contrition, his daughter seems to weigh her answer. Her expression shifts, visibility reactive to the path of her thoughts: confusion, desperation, irritation, all in quick succession. 

She settles on a petulant. "Haarlep?" 

"Are you naming your inspiration? Or enquiring after the source of your damnation?" 

She turns her nose up, crossing her arms over her chest. "Both." 

"Mm, then, in the spirit of fair play," he steps forward, linking his hands at the small of his back. "Yes. They sold you out. Let this be a lesson to you, pet: trust carefully. Better yet, trust none but me." The impudent little thing snorts. Raphael holds his hand out, "And now, an explanation is in order: why have you robbed me?" 

Carlyle steps forward, the pilfered item in question held before him. Orin favors her brother with a look. It is so simultaneously venomous, and so pleading that the boy cannot fathom how to proceed. "We meant to return it, Father, truly. But Korilla would not allow us near portals…" 

"With excellent reason." 

"...and we needed the scroll to contact an associate on the Prime Material." 

"Why." 

"Don't tell him, stupid," Orin hisses.

But Carlyle is determined to come clean, his sense of fair play and respect for his sire winning out over whatever fear his much smaller sibling might inspire. He hands the scroll of dimension door back to Raphael, standing tall and proud. "A gift, father. Haarlep gave us the location of one of your preferred artists. We'd hoped…" he shrugs, attempting a smile. And it is fundamentally strange to see his own expression reflected at him, all on the face of himself in miniature. "To commission something." 

The idea reeks of sentiment rather than bloodlust. Carlyle's idea, then, not Orin. Raphael eyes the pair, suspicious, irritated. "And how did you intend to pay for this work?" Orin produces a back of coin from her pocket, grumbling as she hands it over. "Ah. Is there anything else I should expect to find missing?" 

They answer as one: "No, my duke." 

"And you know better than to lie to me, yes?" 

"Yes, father." 

"Off with you then, little failures. Consider what you might have done to succeed. Learn from this." He is feeling magnanimous, infernal wine still heady in his system, a night of potential pleasure stretching out before him. Let them take this as a lesson and be done with it. 

A decision he comes to regret later. 

The little shits are, in fact, acting as a distraction. Haarlep has slipped from the House (also highly against protocol). Haarlep contracts the artist for the little beasts, and they present their gift to him a month later, beaming and unrepentant. 

He is caught entirely off guard, delighted and horrified in equal measure. Conniving wretches! Little thieves! They beam at him, a united front, unrepentant and full of potential. 

He still sends the little shits to their room without supper and confines them to their wing of the House for the next month. 

He's proud but too petty to pass up seeing the look of betrayal on their little faces.

[anths-girl]

I just need to say that...Robert Sheehan is ABSOLUTELY AMAZING. I've been sort of obsessively watching interviews and videos and just... anything of him, the last week or so, and I am just in AWE.

Because not only is he just breathtakingly BEAUTIFUL (those EYES are literally ethereal?!?), an amazing, versatile, brilliant actor, but he's just also a wonderful person - just...his personality is...I have no words.

He just has NO filter. Like, ZERO. He seriously just says WHATEVER he wants to. He's completely, brutally, HONEST. And, unlike a lot of "celebrities," I think, he's even very honest about himself and his personal life. He just doesn't hide who he is, at all. And I LOVE that. I actually ADMIRE it, so, SO much.

I fucking wish I could BE like that: Just so unapologetically, unequivocally YOURSELF. It's almost been kind of therapy for me, watching him. Because I legitimately CANNOT do that, in my own life. I CAN'T be myself. I have to hide so much of who I am, and what I feel, ALL the time, because of the community I live in (it's very much the torches and pitchforks kind of attitude... 🙄🙄🙄)

But yes...I just want to say...THANK YOU, Robert, for being SUCH a beautiful human being, in this otherwise absolutely shit world, we live in. And I need that kind of thing VERY badly, these days...

[oomisluvr]

YOURS, MINE, OURS (I COULD DO THIS FOR HOURS)

SYNOPSIS: kiyoomi sucks at housework and you are absolutely no help.

WARNINGS: none! probably some swearing, but that’s all :’) useless!sakusa, never-learned-now-to-hang-a-photo!sakusa, also the beginning of domestic!sakusa, sfw!

“It’s a little crooked. Tilt the left side up a bit–No! My left, not yours.”

“We’re facing the same direction, love. It’s the same left.”

“Don’t sass me.” You suck your teeth, “You’re the one that asked for my help.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kiyoomi dismisses you, arms still outstretched to successfully level the small frame, “Does this look any better?”

It doesn’t. It's actually worse now.

“Looks fantastic.” You quip helpfully.

With a final huff, Kiyoomi steps back to look at his handiwork, hands braced on his hips like a proud father. Silence weighs heavy between you two. He sighs.

“I’m gonna burn down this entire building.”

“It’s not that bad, babe.”

“This looks awful. I mean, did I put this up during an earthquake? What even happened?”

“It’s an easy fix. 30 minutes max.”

“Tiktok made it look so easy.” He groans, heading for the kitchen, “‘Quick-and-easy home project’, my ass. This whole ordeal has been lengthy and difficult.”

“You’re not gonna fix it?” You ask, a bit shocked. Kiyoomi’s never been the type to abandon a project of any kind.

“I know my limits. It’s tomorrow's problem.” He decides, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet and hunting for some cereal. Brown eyes peer into your own, “Do I have you for the weekend or are you going home?”

“I think I’ll stay.“ You hum, watching him pour milk into the small ceramic bowl, “Only if we get breakfast in the morning.”

You’ve been told Kiyoomi’s been less uptight since dating you. More friendly. Open-minded. Willing to try new things. You’ve watched him grow significantly since when you first started seeing him, and you’re secure enough in this relationship to say you’ve loved every version of him. You were friends before you were anything more, and dating him has made your relationship even stronger.

“Done.” He nods, capping the milk, “I’ve been meaning to give you something, by the way.” You watch him rummage through the kitchen drawer, a slight tremor in his movements. Whatever he was searching for lands in your hand with a light toss, the object softly clinking when you catch it. “I want you to have this.”

Unequivocal access to his private space. The key to his house. You blink. 

“A key? You want me to start picking up your mail?”

He rolls his eyes, “What I would like is for you to move in with me, but I figured this is the first step.”

“This is…” You swallow, staring down at the metal as if it were alien, “A very big step.”

“I know. I trust you, though.”

To say you’re shocked in an understatement. Your relationship has been nothing short of amazing, but Kiyoomi’s always valued personal space. You expected this stage to come much further down the road.

“My lease ends in a few months.”

“I know.” You see it now, the nervousness radiating off of him. “Believe it or not, I like having you around.”

Shaking your head, “You’ll get sick of me.”

“Impossible. I adore you.”

“I’m messier than you. I’ll leave my clothes everywhere.”

“Then we’ll just have to do laundry together. You wash and I’ll fold?”

“I can’t cook.”

“Me neither.” He suppresses a grin, “But I trust that we’ll figure it out.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m not going to win this, am I?”

He shakes his head, black curls bouncing effortlessly with the movement, “Nope.”

Your expression softens, “I’ll drive you crazy.”

He hums, dipping down to press his lips to yours, “You already do.”

Jumpcut to all the pictures falling off the wall and shattering because Kiyoomi has no life skills :D

THANKS FOR READING!!

[thegeminisage]

I have to know about the dead beat ghost of George Kirk, that lit my brain up. Also Spock on Spock violence either/or. both even?

BOTH IS GOOD. tysm. this got so long don't worry about reading this entire answer lol <3

ok, so, spock on spock violence is a fanfic i conceived when i was deep in the throes of trek last autumn. but i had to wait until i had watched EVERYTHING with nimoy's spock in it before i could begin working on it, and by the time i got there, the steam sort of ran out of my engines. so i'm not sure if it'll ever get done at this point, especially considering i sort of veered back into working on something else. anyway, to general concept of this is - while it's very sweet that in the movies and in real life quinto spock and nimoy spock are friends, it's also. love and light. a little boring. i think that really, spock is an individual who is in many ways at war with himself, and when asked the age-old question "would you fight your clone or fuck him?" would unequivocally choose FIGHT every time

the very basic plot of the fic (which is really just a flimsy excuse for spock and spock to be petty cut-throat bitches at each other) is that post stid quinto spock has been traumatized by 1. the death of his mother 2. the death of his planet 3. the death of his boyfriend (hi, jim) and he's decided to break up with jim and do a kohlinahr so he doesn't have to feel grief anymore (and, with his longer vulcan lifespan, never has to watch jim die) because this shit is killing him. jim thinks this is stupid and nimoy spock also thinks this is stupid so nimoy spock and quinto spock spend a great deal of time hurling insults at one another about it.

there is also a side plot that very vaguely cribs from the tos episode "what are little girls made of?" wherein people are getting replaced by androids, and at one point, quinto spock is tempted by a jim android, because, after all:

an android jim never has to suffer! he never has to die! spock could have and love his boyfriend FOREVER AND EVER and never have to fear the pain of loss ever again! that will totally work and fix everything with absolutely zero problems, right?

since i don't actually have any prose written for this yet, i will provide an excerpt from my notes, edited slightly for clarity:

to quinto spock, nimoy spock is a living example of his every failure and his worst fears. he gave up the good fight against his own internal humanity, he TOOK A HUMAN MATE (gross!), and he allowed/indirectly caused vulcan to be destroyed. nimoy spock, old and at the end of his life, has no one. he's been mourning his jim for longer than they were ever together. the only thing he knows is the unbearable pain of grief. quinto spock fears this kind of pain more than anything. he thinks he is seeing his own future and he is desperate to prevent it via any means possible, even the kolinahr - this timeline can be different, right?

to nimoy spock, quinto spock is a living example of the very worst and most cowardly parts of himself, and wastes all the precious opportunities he has - he makes nimoy spock sick with envy. quinto spock has SO many years left to spend with jim and he's going to WASTE them just because he's afraid of what life will be like without him. worse, he's hurting the person nimoy spock loved most by pushing him away, and it's all his own (nimoy spock's) fault because vulcan was kind of his bad. by allowing vulcan to be destroyed he has ruined not only his future, but also his past. quinto spock is destroying himself from the inside over his misguided prejudice over his own humanity, and his internalized xenophobia or whatever, and he's too young and too stupid to see that the only way to get through it is to GO through it, and he won't listen to the one person he should trust above all others (himself) because he HATES HIMSELF, that's his/their whole problem

like, imagine your entire deal is self-loathing and an abject refusal to accept both halves of your extremely internally conflicted being. and then suddenly there's another version of yourself who can stand next to you, who can be blamed and yelled at (possibly punched?), who is somehow doing an EVEN WORSE JOB at being you than you already are!!!!! you have to watch this other you make mistakes so massive even YOU wouldn't do them and you guys are supposed to NOT fight somehow??

ultimately, this is a fic about confronting grief and pain rather than running away from it, but it also morphed into a kind of fix-it for generations (the movie where kirk bites it in the most underwhelming death scene ever) which turned it into a very full project because those two things are a bit at odds with each other, so i had to reoutline it, but the outline IS all ready to go, i just...haven't gotten around to it yet because i'm working on the other project. i haven't given up on it though!!!

deadbeat ghost of george kirk is essentially a story about how completely useless it is to have a ghost for a dad. not a literal ghost, it's not that kind of story, but despite how affecting the opening of the 2009 movie is, we have to contend with the sad reality that if you grow up without a dad there is a high risk of simply becoming chris pine's kirk. like, that's why he's like that, right? hard truths. i only have about 800 words of this and it's quite likely it will never be finished or posted, but every time someone says something horrible to me in real life about my dead dad (happens more often than you think) i add another rage-fueled paragraph. an excerpt (content warning for child abuse and suicidal ideation):

What's so heroic about it, anyway? Jim's dad didn't die to save eight hundred lives; he died to save two, and counted the other seven hundred ninety-eight as a happy bonus. And what became of those two people? His mother a chronically offworld functional alcoholic, married to a chronically on-world nonfunctional alcoholic, whose favorite hobby is hitting his wife's sons with his belt and whose second favorite hobby is seeing which bones he can break with his steel-toed boots. Jim himself, sent to the hell that was Tarsus IV for driving a car off a cliff, who at eleven years old had already been jaded enough to consider just going off the cliff with it. Would George Kirk do it again the same way, if he could somehow know how the world turned without him in it? Would he think it was a fair trade? Either the answer is no and he was an idiot who threw away his life for nothing, or the answer is yes and he was an asshole. Either way, it hardly amounts to heroism. What good is a dead father to anybody? They can't turn up at the school play or the track meets. They can't teach you to tie a tie or throw a punch at bullies or slip you your first beer or bring you birthday gifts. You can't give a Father's Day card to an empty grave, not if you're saying anything true. All the cards say things like Thanks for being there for me, Dad!, and all Jim knows about his father is that there is the one place he wasn't. See, Jim has been in space, which is quite literally the absence of everything. He's also been on Tarsus IV, a planet where people got so hungry they started hacking limbs off of corpses to soothe the absolute absence of food in their stomach. And yet, for all that, the absence of George Kirk is the keenest absence he's ever known.

let people send you an ask with the WIP title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

[skazoo]

still do.

↳ choi jongho x f!reader

he couldn't stop loving you, even if he tried. and he did try for some time. it just didn't work.

length. 3.7k

genre. exes (and friends) to lovers, fluff, crack and a sprinkle of inevitable angst (i'm sorry).

warnings/tags. language, mention of death, mention of illness of a loved one, implied depression, .

networks. @kflixnet k-labels

notes. hello with another "this was supposed to be just teeth rotting fluff but somehow turned a little depressing and angsty on its own, i swear i didn't touch anything" do we see a pattern here? bc i do. i offer this lil jongho fic after sm time of absolutely nothing but i've finished my exams literally the other day, (DURING PRIDE MONTH!?!?? unacceptable) hope you like it!!

i'm desperate for feedback and i love comments with your opinion!

(cross-posted on ao3 only)

navigation

it’s a well-known fact —to your friend group, to the employees of the cafè on the way to your apartment, to the old lady that sells flowers at the corner of the big building you work at— that choi jongho not only likes you but he’s irremediably and unequivocally in love with you.

and that is still not right because jongho doesn’t just love you, no, that would be too obvious, too easy. he still loves you. 

if he goes back enough in his memories, jongho could say he’s always loved you.

he’s never been one to believe in love at first sight so when wooyoung drunkenly introduced the two of you at his birthday party, and he found himself unable to breathe let alone speak a coherent sentence to you, he immediately panicked. was he having a heart attack? a stroke? he was healthy, an athlete! how could this be happening to him!? he even made his own doctor hate him with all the panicked questions he asked the poor man on the phone but apparently, all he needed to relatively calm down was wooyoung’s loud laugh as he told him that he simply had a crush on you.

did he have a crush on you? 

you, with your beautiful smile and melodic laugh and sparkling eyes and– okay, yeah. he did have a crush on you but who wouldn’t!?

strong argument indeed, he thought.

that fateful night was only the start of a happiness he didn’t know he was able to experience.

you became friends, then best friends, then something more and then you were kissing, sleeping, and cuddling in bed together, going on cute little dates, and showing more PDA jongho ever imagined doing. 

he thought you were happy with him. navigating life with the same confused curiosity all young adults seem to innately possess.

then something happened that he couldn’t have ever predicted. and not because he wasn’t paying attention to you or because he was slacking off with his boyfriend duties, no. it came as a complete shock to everyone —you included, in a sense— because the signs just weren’t there. 

out of the blue, without notice, you broke up with him. after a year and for reasons that are still beyond his comprehension.

questions thundered into his mind asking why you had come to the heartbreaking decision, why you had sent him a ‘we need to talk’ text at 2am in the morning, and why he’d later found you at the front door of his apartment with tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes, soft whimpers vaguely sounding like ‘sorry’ and ‘it’s not your fault’. 

if he thinks back to that night, jongho gets chills from how scared he was; holding your body to his chest, not knowing what to do or what to say, not knowing who hurt you or why you were hurting.

when he thinks back to that night —something he finds himself doing more often than his heart can take— jongho clearly remembers the silent promise he repeated in his head at least a thousand times after you went back to your apartment. a promise he’s set on keeping.

and it’s for that very promise that he now sits in the crowded cafe downtown, drinking an overrated caramel macchiato and hiding behind a book he has no interest in.

at least it’s what he tells himself. that he came to the same coffee shop you told him you’d be meeting your date at because that’s what friends do. he tells himself he’s wearing a mask and sunglasses inside because he can and will love you platonically if that’s what you need or want. jongho tells himself a lot of things and he hopes he’s strong enough to believe in them in a way that will make them reality sooner or later.

but it’s not like two booths away from him you’re faring any better.

are people outside your friend group really this boring and uninteresting? have men always been this arrogant and full of themselves? was your current ex-boyfriend the exception that proves the incredibly unfair rule? 

when you met jongho you knew you were lucky. hot college athlete with sarcasm to match yours and a badly concealed heart of pure gold? you knew you hit the jackpot. but you weren’t ready to realize that he really was one in a million men that actually put in the effort to go beyond the bare minimum.

why is it, though? 

the question threatens to break loose all the pent-up frustration this date is generously providing you with and you opt to ignore it and hide it in the back of your mind for another occasion. one that includes cheap wine, pizza, and an equally bewildered yunjin sitting on your couch with funny socks and mouth full.

for now, you only limit yourself to throwing a fake smile at the obnoxious man sitting in front of you who’s spent the entirety of this heinous date talking exclusively about himself and his crypto-currency business. 

he’s finishing what you think is a long rant about the stock market when he moves to get up.

you think you’re finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel but he just lets out an annoying chuckle and looks at you with his small and pig-like patronizing eyes. “don’t worry, love. i’m not leaving you i’m just going to ‘powder my nose’, how you girlies say.” he winks and you resist the urge to gag at how… slimy he looks and feels.

as soon as he’s out of sight you let yourself slump on the small table, groaning a bit as you do so.

what were you even thinking? you tell yourself that today is going to be a well-suffered lesson for your future self: no dates with people that quote elon musk as if he’s some kind of greek philosopher.

your hands reach for the phone in your bag on their own. the last message you received was a sarcastic ‘have fun’ from wooyoung in the group chat but other than that everything is quiet, seemingly wanting to punish you for going against your friends’ advice to bail on the guy as soon as you saw him treat the barista like shit.

under the group chat, jongho’s name glares at you. 

you would be lying if you said out loud that this date didn’t have the sole purpose of distracting you from the claustrophobic guilt you’re feeling lately. 

jongho had never really cried in front of you but you swear if you could you’d erase the image of his damp eyes looking at you with confusion on that ugly night. and if you have to be honest you’d erase the encouraging but strained smiles he gives you now that you’re back at being friends too, because they don’t do anything but make you feel a shittier person than you already think you are. but maybe you deserve it. maybe this is finally going to be the occasion in which you understand that your actions have consequences.

your fingers work quicker than your brain can catch up, and before you realize it, you open again the conversation with jongho that ended before you went out and start typing.

> you: wyd?

> jjong: you’re on a date

> jjong: focus

> you: what is this an exam?

> you: nevermind this was a bad idea…

> jjong: texting me or the date?

> you: shut up

> you: the date 

> jjong: aw i’m sorry i could have told you that like,, an hour ago

> jjong: oh wait 

> jjong: i did!

another groan leaves your lips, only this time laced with a small chuckle at his antics. you mark the message as seen and throw your phone back into the bag. 

you hope other people can't see how much you miss him.

while you’re too focused on burning holes in the bathroom door from how hard you’re staring at it, dreading the moment it will open to reveal your current problem, in the loud noise of the cafe you don’t hear the heavy stomps of someone approaching you from behind. 

only when you feel two warm hands plant themselves on your shoulders and you hear a familiar voice muttering to itself something that sounds like ‘found you’, you’re forced out of your angry trance state and you’re asked to quickly choose between either your fight or flight instincts. you throw a blind punch and the person creeping up on you folds into two.

but that’s on him because who creeps on someone sitting alone at a table and touches them without making themselves known? what happened to ‘hello, what a coincidence to see you here’? what happened to manners?

you snap your head to the figure behind you and you let your panic subside but your annoyance rises.

“how– what are you doing here!?” your words come out in a hiss that makes the old couple sitting in the booth behind you turn around and look at you with judgy eyes but that doesn’t affect jongho in the slightest.

“saving you? duh.”

“who asked you that?!”

“what– Y/N, you texted me even before you met the guy, may i add. and the message said: ‘please end my suffering.’ in my book that’s a cry for help!”

he’s right but you let out an affronted huff anyway. arms crossed and lips in a pout you know is childish. “whatever.”

you feel him staring at you with a raised eyebrow and a smug smirk that you, oh so badly want to wipe off his face. 

“what?” you spat. your tone more embarrassed than you’d like to let on.

“what, what?”

“what the fuck are you smiling for?”

he throws his arms in the air exasperatedly. “am i not allowed to be happy now?”

“of course you are, it’s just… you being happy,” you air-quote to punctuate your suspicions on his current joyous disposition. “usually means wooyoung fell or someone got hurt.”

he laughs. “do you think so lowly of me, Y/N?”

“shut up.” the napkin you’ve been fidgeting with because of the irrational panic rising in your guts is now messily crumpled on the table and you groan at the whole situation. head in your hands and eyes closed. you’re so bad at this.

what happened to moving on? what happened to leaving jongho alone because he doesn’t deserve someone treating him like shit? you broke up with him supposedly to save him, but, not even three months in, and now that your mind is clearer you think it’s okay to want him back? to feel full again every time you talk about the things you did together and bask in the silence that follows with a warm knowing smile? you think it’s good to let your eyes wander to his face when you know he’s not looking, falling in love all over again? to feel your face involuntary stretch into a smile every time you spot him waiting for you outside work?

whatever your fucking problem is, you’re scared that you’ll come to find out its only solution is the person you fought so hard to push away. because what if you managed to scare away the last source of happiness you had? it’s selfish, you know, but it’s also the only thing you can think about as he looms over you; body so dangerously close to yours that you can catch the flowery perfume he always wears.

you think he’s speaking to you because his big hand is outstretched in your direction and his eyes are looking at you expectantly, with a veiled urgency.

“sorry, what?”

“i said get up and let’s go.”

“go where exactly?”

he rolls his eyes and you keep to yourself the striking resemblance he has with a spoiled child right at this moment.

“c’mon, we’re living this tinder nightmare here.”

“oh, are we?” you ask equal parts amused and curious of where this little skit of his is going.

when his deadpan expression doesn’t shift into one of his gummy smiles at your slightly annoying antics you know something impulsive and possibly embarrassing is about to happen and you know you will be the only person who will have any sort of unnecessary remorse out of the two of you.

your hands fly to your parted mouth and you hiss at him again. “are you serious!?”

he smiles.

“jongho, no.”

jongho yes, the mischievous look he throws you seems to proudly announce. 

he checks the toilet door one last time before gently grabbing your arm and not-so-gently yanking you out of the booth. a surprised squeal leaves your mouth but not a word of protest is heard from you.

“oh my god, i’m really doing this.”

his eyes are set on the door and he speaks without looking at you. “doing what?” 

“leaving someone like that while they’re in the bathroom! that’s so… i don’t know jjong, that’s so rude!”

you see his shoulder shake and you know if he were to face you right now you’d see one of his shit-eating grins. what you can’t imagine is the softness in his eyes as you call him with your nickname for him. he missed it. he misses you. painfully, completely, constantly.

his wide strides are followed by your frantic steps as he maneuvers the two of you out of the door and into the busy downtown street.

“so what? do you wanna go back in there and risk being bored to death by a guy that’s not even a quarter of what you deserve?”

“wha– no! i just–”

“then why should you feel sorry for that sad excuse of a date, uh? like, really, he took you to the most overrated place he could think of, Y/N. he didn’t even know you don’t like coffee!”

you chuckle at the frown of deep offense that blooms on his face. his lips in an affronted pout. “but that’s what the date is for, jjong. he couldn’t have possibly known.”

he stops in his tracks when he’s far away enough from the crowd in line waiting to be granted entrance to the place you just left. 

“i do, though.” an imperceptible strain to his voice as his eyes search yours in a way that’s almost desperate. “i know you don’t like coffee and that you like to sleep on the right side of the bed and that you just have to sing that ridiculous song to tie your shoes because otherwise, for some inexplicable reason i still have to understand, you can’t.”

has the world around you stopped? your ears are ringing from the deafening silence and you feel like everyone around you has stopped breathing and is waiting for you to say something to the boy in front of you who stares you down in determined distress.

“i know you, Y/N.”

you know he deserves an explanation. him more than anyone in your life. him more than yourself, even. jongho with his proverbial patience that let you cry and consoled you the whole night even after you’d told him you were breaking up with him. jongho that didn’t push or torment you with questions the days after. jongho who accepted —maybe in pure and raw self-preservation— to go back to being just friends, with tears in his eyes and a smile on his lips because that’s what you’d told him you needed at that moment. his kindness that, more often than not, you’re convinced you don’t deserve.

“i know.” you close on yourself, your arms coming to hug you tight so that he can’t see the cracks that constantly try to spread over your skin. “i know you do.” an imperceptible whisper that threatens to drown in the buzz of the busy city around you.

“then why?” his eyes are pleading and his voice is quiet when he speaks again. 

“i know i should give you time and i know you’ll tell me one day but please–” he gulps down a lump that you know he’s had for at least three months. one of worry, confusion, and guilt. one you know you gave him.

“–please, give me something. anything.”

silence.

“Y/N, please say someth–”

“my mother was sick, jongho. she still is.” the line you’ve dreaded crossing for so long is no longer a line. the wall that’s been standing in between you and everyone else now has a hole in it. 

“i was out of my mind just from the news of her condition, i– i wasn’t well mentally and physically just from that and i saw time slip through my fingers, felt every single second like a punch to the guts. i threw away all the clocks in my mother’s house, i started sleeping on the floor outside her bedroom, i– the week i told you i was busy with deadlines, we were still together, remember?” he nods, small but it’s there.

 “i spent those days obsessing over something that was not yet real. my brother had to slip me sleeping pills to let me close my eyes for even a second.” your voice cracks because the guilt you get from just looking at jongho always has to be added to the guilt you feel when seonghwa kindly asks you how you’re doing lately.

“i-i was a mess just from that and i didn’t want you to be with me when what i was scared of was going to finally become a reality. i didn’t want you to see me like that because i didn’t think it was what you deserved. and you may be unable to understand and yell at me that it had to be your choice and not mine but i still don’t think that what i did was wrong, i’m sorry.”

the apology floats in the air between you. it’s not articulate or rich but it’s the only one you can get out at the moment.

“my psychologist says– he says i’m doing better now. we agree that the worst is over but there’s this…  unknown that hangs over my head and every second that passes i don’t know if this guillotine will cut my head off or miss me by a hair.”

he just looks at you with that unreadable expression that scares you.

“i didn’t– i don’t want to go back to when the worst wasn’t over and i’m scared that if i give myself back to you i will take you down with me one way or the other.”

you don’t know what you expect him to say or do after you just vomited everything you’re constantly trying to keep hidden, on him, but his loud silence is starting to feel too heavy, unsettling.

he doesn’t feel present, his eyes unfocused and unblinking. 

he shakes his head as if to wake up from a trance and looks at you with eyes too full of love. no pity in them and you want to thank him for it.

“ba– Y/N why didn’t you tell me?”

the simple question throws you off. 

why did you do the things you did? 

why does anyone do things?

you want to cry and tell him that not everything has an explanation. not a logical one anyways.

“i don’t know, okay! i wasn’t sure how you felt! god, i didn’t know how i felt and–”

“how could i have ever felt!? we were together for more than a year, Y/N. i loved you. i still do.”

“w-what?”

he lets out a chuckle that is not mocking or mean or condescending, not one you would’ve expected from anyone else. it’s kind and soft and a little bit amused, much to your irritation.  “do you find it surprising?” 

you open your mouth to say something but he beats you to it. 

“i am in love with you, have been since the moment i saw you at that stupid party and when you told me you had to break up with me i just– Y/N, i couldn’t let you go or stop loving you, even if i tried. and believe me, i did try for some time, but it just didn’t work.” 

with tears clouding your vision you’re surprised you manage to find the time or strength to tease him. “you tried?”

and apparently, it is those two words that make him break out of the containment chamber he’s forcing himself to be trapped in. he smashes through the protective glass in true jongho fashion. a well-placed punch and the chains that kept him away from you thinking that’s what you needed, dissolve into thin air as he closes the distance, messily rushing to you and caging you in a desperate hug that steals the air from your lungs. 

you feel his hands claw at the back of your shirt and it’s the heartbreaking and deep affection that allows you to accept that you’re not difficult and you will not be. not to him, not to the people that love you.

he buries his nose in your hair, breathing you in like he wants to absorb you forever, then everything that happens next goes naturally, smoothly, following a line that was always supposed to be the one and only.

it fits perfectly. when you kiss and it's like the universe, your friend group, the employees of the cafè on the way to your apartment, the old lady that sells flowers at the corner of the big building you work at, knew it was meant to be.

you both stand with your eyes closed, embracing each other.

he wants to be a person who deserves you and whom you deserve. jongho loves you and he wants to be there, picking up your pieces, putting you together like a puzzle, taking his time. 

you sniff, looking up at him with what you hope looks like a soft expression and not some sort of a pained smile. “hi.”

“hey.” he smiles back, thumbs caressing away stray tears.

“you know that i saw you sitting there the second i stepped foot into the coffee shop. 

“you did not.”

“you were reading the book upside-down.”

he blushes but his arms tightens around you.

“i was not.”