#and in the end even if I like the thought of a romantic relationship. would that even be a good idea right now

[mountaesan]

of pomegranates and love stained fingers ; p. sungho 

pairing. idol!park sungho x reader genre. fluff , est. relationship , lots n lots of domesticity ! synopsis. in which sungho shows you that love could be found at an ordinary kitchen table , amidst a mess of pomegranate peels and love stained fingers word count. 1.9k warnings. nudity and bathing in a non-sexual context , a lot of inner dialogue , sungho is… such a gentleman i actually might have fallen in love with him while writing this (yes this is a warning) playlist. the way that i am by abby powledge  notes. this is. so. so. so. self indulgent. but oh to be loved and to be seen by park sungho (◞‸◟)

Pomegranates are a contradiction wrapped in a tough, leather-like skin. 

On the outside, they’re unassuming. Their ruby-red hue is muted by a dull, almost dusty sheen, like they’ve been brushed by centuries of history. But break one open, and it’s utter chaos. Vivid, gleaming seeds spilling out in clusters, their translucent walls catching the light like small, blood-red jewels.

The juice is relentless. It stains fingers, clothes, and countertops with a color so intense that it almost feels alive, impossible to tame. 

And it doesn’t simply mark, it claims. Eating one is an exercise in both patience and surrender. Each seed is a burst of a tart sweetness that’s worth the mess, but it leaves you wondering how something so beautiful can also be so unruly.

That was exactly why you loved pomegranates. They were a little wild, a little untamed. It was in the way the juice stained your fingers, leaving behind traces of something alive and uncontainable. It’s how every seed is a burst of flavor: tangy, sweet, and unapologetically bold. For you, pomegranates were a reminder that the best things in life aren’t always neat or simple; they’re messy, vivid, and unforgettable.

Back in your adolescence, when you were still a hopeless romantic and believed in fate and soulmates and such, you had a theory: that anyone willing to peel a pomegranate for you was to be the one. The one the universe had assigned you—your soulmate. The person you’re meant to share the messiness and beauty of life with, because, let’s be honest, peeling a pomegranate isn’t just an act, it’s a labor. 

It’s tedious, requiring patience and precision to carefully break apart the tough skin without crushing the delicate seeds. The juice inevitably smears, the tiny ruby jewels scatter, and by the end, it looks like a small battlefield in the kitchen. 

You thought of it as a test of devotion. Who else would endure the sticky fingers, the risk of stains, and the painstaking effort, all for the sole purpose of handing over a bowl of gleaming seeds? Your theory wasn’t about the pomegranate itself, it was about what it represented: the willingness to take on something cumbersome and time-consuming just to bring joy to someone else.

In your teenage mind, peeling a pomegranate was love distilled into action. A quiet, unspoken declaration that said, ‘I see the things you cherish, even the messy, difficult ones, and I want to be a part of them.’

So you used to wait, watching the people in your life with a careful eye, jokingly tossing your theory at dinner tables and gatherings but secretly hoping and wondering if someone might one day sit down, pick up a pomegranate, and show you that love can be as simple, and as profound, as peeling fruit. 

But as you grew older, your pomegranate theory began to feel like a relic of a softer, more naive version of yourself. You used to imagine someone peeling away the tough, leathery rind, their hands stained red with love and effort, and thought to yourself, ‘that’s love.’ But with time, the weight of practicality started to take hold. 

Your theory about pomegranates, something you once held close with a spark of whimsical belief, soon became just another one of those silly little things that poets and hopeless romantics dreamed up.

So, you tucked your silly theory away in a dusty corner of your mind, dismissing it as an innocent fantasy of your youth. You searched for love that was grounded, sensible, and serious about the practicalities of life. You looked for someone who could handle the demands of life without the weight of romantic idealism like yours clouding their judgement. 

There was no room for mess or chaos anymore, certainly not for the kind of love that required peeling pomegranates, both literally and metaphorically.

A loud slam of your front door made your ears perk up and you heard the familiar rustling of your boyfriend’s clothes as he shuffled through the living room. You could almost envision the way he shrugged off his outer coat before neatly hanging it on the coat hanger by the entryway.

“Baby? I’m home!” 

“In here!” you called out. The bathwater lapped at your knees, forming small waves that crashed and fell against the porcelain wall of your bathtub. Sungho knocked on the bathroom door, but only out of courtesy, before he pushed it open and greeted you with a bright smile.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he knelt by the side of the bathtub to press a warm kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re home early.” you pointed out. A hand reached out to stroke your boyfriend’s cheek, a single droplet of water running down the slope of your arm and landing back in the bathtub with a small plop. 

“Mastered the choreography first so I could come home to you,” he replied, ever so gently leaning into the warmth of your palm. “Did you just start your bath?”

You nodded, the corners of your lips lifting at his sweet words. “Just a few minutes ago. You don’t have to keep kneeling like that, you know. Your knees are going to hurt.”

“I’m fine,” he said with a chuckle. His gaze softened as he noticed the way the water cradled your form, the steam rising in delicate swirls around you. “Want some help?”

You tilted your head, teasing. “Are you volunteering to join me?”

Sungho laughed softly, shaking his head. “Maybe next time, but I can still take care of you from here.”

Before you could respond, he reached for the loofah sitting on the edge of the tub and dipped it into the warm water before lathering it up with your favorite body wash. His movements were slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second of this small, intimate moment. 

“You don’t have to, you know,” you murmured as he started gently running the loofah along your shoulder. His featherlight touch sent a slight shiver down your spine.

“I know,” he said, his voice steady and warm. “But let me.”

His voice was so soft, so filled with love, that you couldn’t bring yourself to argue. You let out a small sigh of defeat and leaned back against the tub as he started gently running the loofah over your arms. 

Sungho’s touch was delicate, as though he was handling the most fragile thing in the world. The loofah glided over your arms, his hand following to rinse away the bubbles.

“You work so hard,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he moved to your legs. “You deserve this.”

The words made your chest tighten with emotion. “You’re too good to me,” you whispered.

“No such thing,” he said with a soft chuckle, his hand brushing the back of your calf. “Taking care of my partner is the easiest thing in the world.”

You let your head rest against the edge of the tub, closing your eyes as his hands continued their tender work. The care and love infused into every motion, the way he poured his entire being into making sure you felt safe, cherished, and adored made your heart squeeze tightly.

As he finished, Sungho pressed a soft kiss to your damp shoulder, his lips lingering for a moment. “All done,” he whispered, and you noticed a hint of pride in his voice.

“Thank you,” you said, meeting his gaze. 

Sungho smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Anything for you, gorgeous. Always.”

He stood up and grabbed the big, fluffy towel from the nearby rack, shaking it out to fluff it up. “Alright, come on, let me help you out.”

You shifted in the tub, the water sloshing as you moved to stand. Sungho reached out instinctively, steadying you with his strong, gentle hands. His fingers pressed lightly against your arm and waist as he guided you to step out of the tub.

“Careful,” he murmured, his brows furrowed in concentration. 

The moment your feet touched the bath mat, he draped the towel around you, cocooning you in its warmth. You couldn’t help but giggle as he adjusted the plush fabric, tucking the edges around your shoulders like a protective shield.

“There we go. Let’s go get you dried up, and then we can go see the present I got you.”

The kitchen table was a mess—juice stains spreading across its surface, pomegranate seeds scattered among paper towels and discarded bits of rind. Sungho sat across from you, elbows resting on the table as he carefully pried apart another piece of fruit. His fingers were stained a deep crimson, the juice clinging to his skin and pooling in the small creases of his knuckles. 

“You’re making such a mess,” you teased, watching as he plucked a cluster of seeds free and placed them in a bowl.

He grinned, unfazed. “Worth it.”

He picked up a few seeds between his stained fingers, flicking away the stubborn bits of membrane, and brought them to your lips. “Here.” 

You let him feed you, the tart sweetness bursting on your tongue as he watched you with unspoken fondness. It wasn’t until you noticed the way his brows furrowed in concentration, focusing on getting a particular seed unstuck from the membrane, that it struck you how absurdly thoughtful this was.

“When did I even mention that I like pomegranates?” you asked, your voice softened with wonder and adoration.

Sungho glanced up briefly, his lips quirking up into a sheepish grin. “You told me once, when we first started dating. You were talking about how much you loved them as a kid. Said they were your favorite fruit, even though they’re a pain to eat.” 

You blinked, stunned. The memory was hazy even to you—just a passing remark in some forgetful conversation. But he’d remembered.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you murmured, feeling your chest tighten with an unfamiliar mix of emotions.

Sungho shrugged, returning his attention to the pomegranate in his crimson stained hands. “It’s no trouble. Besides, I like seeing you happy.”

You looked down at the table and took in the chaos of it all: the stains, the mess, his juice-streaked hands, and something deep inside you shifted.

Suddenly, you were seventeen again with your heart wrapped in whimsical theories about soulmates and love.

This was it. This was what you had been searching for back then but had long stopped believing in. This was the kind of love you’d once dreamed of but had dismissed as a silly, adolescent fantasy. Yet, here it was, sitting across from you with juice-stained hands and a soft smile, proving you wrong in the most beautiful way.

Your teenage self had been right: peeling a pomegranate wasn’t just about the fruit. It was a quiet act of devotion, a willingness to embrace the mess and the effort for the sake of someone else’s joy.

Sungho broke your reverie by holding up another handful of seeds, his smile so effortlessly warm that it sent a pang through your chest.

“You don’t have to feed me,” you said with a small laugh, though your voice wavered slightly.

“I know,” he replied. His tone was gentle but resolute. “But let me.”

And as you opened your mouth for the next bite, you realized that love didn’t have to be a grand, sweeping gesture.

Sometimes, it was sitting at a messy kitchen table with stained hands and sticky fingers, peeling pomegranates because someone mentioned, just once, that they liked them.

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[biancadoes1]

this could be proven wrong, but I’m just going to say this ….

If JD was with Nic at that bday, he would have made a story of it.

If that bday was a group dinner, there would have been a story from everyone there especially JD.

Nic and JD did not spend NYE with one another. That is a holiday I would think couples spend together. Even if Nic had a work event, JD would have been there bc that is his pattern. There were not together.

JD has not instinct to be a gentleman to Nic. He is a friend but his first reaction is not to protect or wait for like a partner would - The WT premiere was telling on his part.

Nic went somewhere on vacay after Christmas- tan lines. And she does not tan easily so she was really relaxing. Plus, Nic did not post during those days. Even when hanging with JD , she always post. She Never relaxes- something about those days had her in a state of ease.

Luke liked and commented on her SAG nom. The man has not commented on her post since June or July. And he was met with love.

not all her friends commented or posted for her bday. It is usually your pals that will not see you that will post on your bday. A little tribute bc I can’t be with you. She was with JD for the premiere to celebrate the movie for him and her other friends. But so far, it does not appear she was with him on her bday. Another special night in her life.

Luke is missing!! He did not post her her bday- bc he does not have too. He sees her all the time. He buys her gifts. She loves that camera and I’m sure he bought her something.

luke is a grown man. He does not need attention as much as trolls so desperately want to believe for him.

that Bday is intimate. Dinner for two. Could it be Luke- yes, could be another man- maybe. But at this moment, not JD. Again, he would have let you know.

luke loves pasta. The man loves pasta. It’s seems like an intimate place that’s quiet and cute. Nic is down to earth, this seems like something she would love.

Luke doing a year end photo dump. The man has never done that- to my knowledge or I have read he hasn’t. Some could say, well he was the lead, but he was on bridgerton before this and no year end dump. To me, to me- it seems like he did this as a welcoming to the family of Nic’s friends group.

is Luke in the glassware- not sure on that. That seems far fetched but I’m not going to tell someone they are wrong. That’s not my place.

at a certain point, people have to stop thinking she is with JD bc he is everywhere. People thought this about me and my guy friend. We love each other deeply, but not attracted to one other. Stop thinking bc Jd is there, that is her man. When JD does not do any of the things a boyfriend does. Smile, laugh or any affection. Calling her sweet one is not a clue for romantic love. It’s a term of endearment. In fact, no man, in a relationship would probably use that phrase for his gf or wife. It’s oddly stated.

could I be wrong, yes, but just analyzing clues and keeping the delulu out - things do make sense. Still being rational points more in the direction that she is not with JD.

I love an organized anon who critically thinks.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

your husband, i mean ex-husband

you knew perfectly well this wouldn’t end well. who would ever think a failed relationship could work again? bringing back the past only brought more anger and pain. your ex-husband was a prime example of this.

naoya zenin was definitely a fucking bastard.

controlling, angry at everything, and the embodiment of neglect—your ex-husband had thankfully been out of your life for five whole months.

so why the fuck was he between your legs right now, busy devouring your pussy?

“na-naoya fuck, please stop…” you barely managed to voice your protest through the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing. you didn’t really want him to stop, but this needed to end before things got even messier.

naoya paused the frantic and sloppy movements of his tongue on your clit, lifting his head from your pussy with a look that screamed, are you serious right now?

“do you my cock want then?”

fuck. things were definitely going to get messier.

“no, no, just… stop, please.”

your ex-husband sat back between your legs, clearly annoyed, and let his gaze travel over your entire body, starting from your face. his expression was unreadable, but you knew him well enough to recognize the gears turning in his head. those weren’t the eyes of someone who planned to reward you—they were eyes ready to punish.

“naoya, don’t even—” you started, but before you could finish, he suddenly flipped you onto your side. before you could even react, he had your right leg over his shoulder, positioning himself between your thighs.

he definitely wasn’t going to fuck you romantically in a goddamn spooning position.

“you know,” he started, holding your thigh effortlessly in one hand as he stroked his cock with the other, “i was planning to spend the whole night worshiping your pussy until you lost count of how many times you came. then, i was going to slide inside you, fill up every inch of that tight little pussy, and pump you so full of my cum that you wouldn’t leave this bed without being pregnant.” he tilted his head, an infuriating smirk on his face. “but, as usual, you had to ruin my surprise with your stupid thoughts.”

you tried to push him away with your right foot, but he had you trapped. your other leg was pinned under his body, leaving you helpless. there was no getting out of this unless he wanted to let you go—and you both knew he didn’t.

“you bastard, i swear—AHH!” your scream tore through the room as his thick cock entered you, stretching you wide.

“fuck… i’ve missed my wife’s pussy so much,” he groaned, his grip on your thigh tightening as he felt your walls clench around him. you could feel his body trembling with pleasure against yours.

goddammit, you had missed this. you’d missed how his cock, thick and veiny, filled you up perfectly, molding to your walls as if it were made just for you. the only thing you and naoya had ever been good at together was sex. in that area, you’d never lost a single battle.

he was merciless, pounding into you with brutal precision, his cock slamming into your dripping core over and over again. he was relentless, driven by the desire to feel all of your heat and wetness wrapped around him.

“hah, got nothing to say? you, who never shuts up... can't seem to open that damn mouth of yours now, huh?”

“fuck you, na-naoya,” you spat, your face buried in the pillow. everything was too much—the sensations, the pace, the depth. even if you wanted to reply, you couldn’t.

“listen to this.” he went silent for a moment, letting the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin fill the air. “listen to the dirty, filthy sounds of your little slutty pussy begging for my cock. ngh—it’s clenching around me so tight, like it doesn’t want me to leave.”

it never wanted him to leave. there wasn’t a single day you didn’t want him. no one else could satisfy your pussy the way he could—whether it was his tongue, his fingers, or his cock.

“so-deep… you’re so deep,” you finally lifted your head, looking at him with tear-filled eyes from being pounded by his cock.

“of course i’m deep. it’s my wife’s pussy—”

“ex-wife,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “your ex-wife…”

“FUCK NO!” his voice rose in anger as he slapped your ass three times in quick succession, forcing a scream from your lips. “you are my wife. i don’t give a fuck about legal bullshit. do you understand me?” another harsh slap landed on your ass. “DO YOU?”

“oh my god, yes—YES, I UNDERSTAND!” you shouted through the mix of pain and pleasure.

“good. now, repeat it.” he pressed a wet kiss to your ankle. “i am naoya zenin's wife. say it, my love,” his lips found your ankle again, his tongue teasing the skin there while his slick cock plunged into your tight, sticky walls.

“i’m… i’m your wife, naoya,” you admitted, your voice shaking but certain.

“i-i..” fuck, you really wanted to say it. you wanted to scream to the whole world that you were his wife, the only lady of the zenin clan. but nothing was the same anymore. at least not for you—though, judging by your husband, no, your ex-husband, everything was exactly as it used to be.

“yes, you?...” his kisses trailed higher up your leg, his possessive eyes locking onto yours. “look at me.”

his commanding tone made you obey instantly. “i’m your wife, naoya.”

he growled as you admitted you belonged to him. his lips pressed kisses along the skin of your leg before suddenly biting down on a spot. it was as if he wanted to brand you, to make sure everyone knew you were his, sucking and tugging at your skin with his teeth. “that’s fucking right. you’re mine.” he didn’t stop moving inside you, his cock still pounding and filling you completely. “you’re a fucking zenin. the woman at the head of the clan. MY wife. fuck—mine.”

his head fell back, and his thrusts slowed as he got closer to his release. but still, every slow thrust hit your g-spot with perfect precision. the blunt tip of his cock you loved so much, the one that drove you crazy, was stroking it so perfectly that you never wanted this moment to end.

“you’re going to take my cum like a good wife, aren’t you? you’re going to carry my children—fuck, my children…”

“please, fill me up, please.” you were begging now, desperate for him, for this. no matter how toxic he was, no matter how fucked up everything had become, you wanted to bear his children more than anything.

“i will, baby. ngh—shit, shit, shit…” his hand squeezed your thigh as he resumed pounding into you with full force. his cock pulsed inside you, and you felt the rush of his cum filling you up, flooding your womb until it spilled out.

“oh my god, naoya, i hate you—I fucking hate you,” after shouting your hatred at your ex-husband, a deep, masculine groan escaped him. he’d cum inside you countless times before, but you couldn’t ever remember him cumming this much.

as his cock softened slightly, you thought he’d let you go, but instead, he flipped you onto your stomach and pinned your arms behind your back with one hand. his free hand came down hard on your ass, making you yelp.

your other leg was still hooked over his shoulder, but his dripping cum was already sliding out of your pussy and trailing down toward your ass. naoya finally let your leg go, and just as you thought you’d be turning to face his sweat-slicked body, he flipped you onto your stomach instead. pinning your hands behind your back with his left hand, he delivered a sharp slap to your ass. “ass up. i’m not done yet. i need to fuck you again to make sure none of my cum goes to waste.”

without a hint of hesitation, you lifted your hips, offering yourself to him. with your face buried somewhere between the pillow and the sheets, he used his free hand to spread your ass cheeks wide. his cum, still inside you, began to drip out, making a soft, lewd drip-drip sound as it landed on the sheets below. “what a fucking waste, letting it drip onto the bed,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with mock disappointment. “guess i’ll have to punish you for that. but first…” he leaned in close, his face just inches from your ass, and ran his tongue from your soaked pussy all the way up to your tight little asshole. when he stopped there, his warm breath fanned over your sensitive skin, making you shiver. he pressed his face close to your dripping folds, running his tongue from your pussy all the way up to your tight little asshole, where he paused, letting his warm breath tease you. “i want to taste this. you lose your fucking mind whenever i eat this tight little hole, don’t you? if you get pregnant tonight, maybe next time, i’ll do more and fuck this tight, fucking sinful hole of yours too.”

“i-i promise, naoya.”

“what do you promise?” his breath tickled your sensitive skin before his tongue gave your hole a short, teasing lick.

“ugh—to carry your child. i promise to carry your child.”

“that’s the right answer, mrs. zenin.” he wasted no time and dove in, licking and devouring your favorite spot with relentless enthusiasm.

that night, you learned with absolute clarity that there was no escaping from this man. whether you gave him the clan’s new heir or not, whether you fled to the other side of the world to escape him, naoya zenin would never abandon the lady of the his clan.

a little note: this might be one of the first things i've written. it was a bit different originally, but after rereading it, i didn’t like it, so i rewrote it. also, a huge thank you to @sugurus-thoughts for encouraging me to post this :)

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[baphometsss]

the 'memories of a duet' codex is so interesting and not just because you can read it in so many ways. given that mythal is on the codex card i think you can safely assume it's about her, but it reveals so much about their relationship if you pay attention. this is a memory of solas learning a song/composing it for her, to remind her of who they are (were) when everything sang the same (in the fade, when they were spirits). she's doing her own thing at court but he does it all just to get a single happy glance from her, to see her remember the familiarity that is so integral to solas's understanding of who he is. 'seeing wholly, being wholly seen'. remember that spirits reflect: solas reflected mythal's benevolence, and mythal reflected his wisdom. they need to reflect to maintain their sense of who they are: it is not just about his love for mythal, but his way of retaining his sense of who he is, by prolonging the memory of that reflection even as she grew away from him.

the 'away from mindless worship and well-meant misunderstanding' is really fucking interesting too. it's a memory of a moment where mythal could forget her role of the charismatic all-mother, who was loved and adored by her children, and where solas could ignore the no doubt frequent insinuations from others that his devotion was romantic. it was a way for them to connect in a way where they could just be true to who they were and how they felt about each other: like branches of the same tree, like family. of course, this was before he rebelled, before mythal betrayed him by joining the evanuris--although how long before is questionable since they're only sharing glances at this point. it's kind of sad, too; it reads like he's already having to do so much to get barely anything in return from this person who is meant to be his family.

it also puts a lot of things into perspective about solas's feelings on the modern elves in dai. that feeling of kinship, the twinning he felt with mythal and felassan and no doubt other elvhen and spirits, is so precious to him. he doesn't want to share it with anyone in this terrible, broken world he created, as if to share it with them would somehow taint it. it's only by the end of dai and into datv that he sees he was wrong, that the elves may have forgotten their history, but they are of the same family: different branches on the same tree.

when he says to a romanced lavellan, you are unique, i have never found a spirit such as yours, you have a rare and marvellous spirit, etc. he's also saying that he hasn't felt this sense of kinship for a long time, that he didn't expect to bond with someone from this broken world in the way he did. it's a different bond to the one he had with mythal, too, because he says he never thought he would find someone who would draw his attention from the fade and by extension, his longing to be a spirit once again--something he constantly tried to get mythal to agree with him on and failed. with lavellan, for the first time, he actually wants someone in this overwhelmingly physical and romantic way--something spirits don't feel, apparently. cole doesn't get with maryden unless you make him more human, and he also says he doesn't feel any attraction as a spirit. solas is actually glad to be a person and not just a spirit, because it means he's actually able to experience romantic love and desire for the very first time (as the romance description in datv heavily suggests). what's more, despite his misgivings, he likes it.

as others have pointed out, lavellan's speech in datv is in hallelujah cadence like the dialogue with the other elvhen. the duet is being sung once again--in a different context, but no less meaningful. there's a song by bjork called stonemilker, where she sings: 'a juxtaposition in fate/find our mutual coordinates'. it really reminds me of this; the need emotional synchronicity, of being completely on someone's wavelength, understood totally, seeing wholly and being wholly seen.

[cybershock24601]

More post canon Rookanis thoughts today as I contemplate how weird their inclusion of Spite in their relationship would be to everyone. Even if Spite isn’t involved romantically they still try to make the guy feel included like they did when they ordered that extra cup of coffee on their little date in game.

Personally I feel like the Crows (especially Caterina and Illario for similar yet different reasons) would do their best to ignore the fact that Lucanis is an abomination now and has a little guy riding around shotgun at all times and that fiction works right up until Rook moves in with Lucanis and suddenly it’s a lot harder to ignore Spite.

Especially since I headcanon my watcher Rook has always been able to tell when Spite is talking even if she can’t hear what he’s saying. She’s sensitive enough to freaky fade stuff to hear something, though it took her a bit to figure out that something was Spite as his words sounds like muffled whispers from a room over where you can tell someone is talking but can’t at all make the words. So in the time between the games end and Rook moving in with Lucanis while she’s settling Watcher responsibilities and helping with the aftermath of everything that happened, she’s also working with Emmrich to hone her magical senses enough to hear Spite. It’s a good skill for a Watcher to have and it would probably be nice for Spite to be able to talk to someone else without having to highjack Lucanis’ vocal cords, also Rook’s a nosy bitch and doesn’t like not being able to hear what the third person in the room is saying because she knows Spite talks about her.

Anyways, now everyone can’t ignore Spite’s existence as rookanis set up a third place setting when sitting down for some afternoon tea and coffee and occasionally pause before replying to something no one else can hear. Or Rook suddenly giggling out of nowhere at something Spite says because she’s not nearly as good at not reacting to Spite’s unheard commentary. Creepiest of all is when someone walks into the room when Lucanis is taking the nap to find Rook and Spite playing card games together and it’s so unsettling for the people who have known Lucanis their whole life to see him with his eyes glowing and his face twisted into foreign expressions, not to mention how strange it is to hear another voice coming out of Lucanis’ mouth.

Caterina nominally ignores the whole thing but is probably looking into how to get Spite exorcised. Illario ends up in learning things about Lucanis that he never knew as Spite is more willing to air Lucanis’ grievances in their relationship which ends up giving Illario a new perspective on a lot of things in their past and possibly leads to Lucanis and Illario having a truly honest and emotionally open talk for the first time in their entire lives. Teia treats Spite cautiously at first but ends up viewing him like some sort carnival side show where yes Spite unnerves her but the little guys actually really funny, and unlike everyone else, it’s Spite that ignores Viago because his protectiveness over Lucanis has manifested in snubbing Viago in return for hurting Lucanis’ feelings all those years ago when he ignored Lucanis’ affections. Very funny if this is how Viago realizes the knife was actually Lucanis’ way of flirting and not some sort of indirect threat. Teia and Rook are absolutely cracking up while this happens due to the absurdity of the situation.

[lvly20]

-`♡´- Acts of love -`♡´-

: ̗̀➛ Enhypen members showing acts of love

Pairing: ot7 x fem!reader

Genre: a lot of fluff, established relationships

Warnings: mild kissing, lot of skinship in jake’s

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

⭒ Heeseung ⭒

Shows his love through words; for example writing you songs.

You walk through the door of your shared apartment and are once again greeted by darkness and familiar silence. It didn't come as a surprise to you that Heeseung once again would be spending the evening at the studio producing songs for the group. You let out a sigh as you remove your shoes and walk into the quiet apartment, you were of course proud of Heeseung when it came to what he was doing with music and the group but you couldn’t help but long for an evening with him instead of him coming home around midnight sneaking into bed trying not to wake you. You walk forward to your and Heeseung’s bedroom so you can change out of your clothes but stop in your tracks when you see the closed door.

"Hee?" you call out as you know neither you nor Heeseung ever closes the door when you leave in the morning.

You slowly open the door until you see light creeping out of the crack you've created, and then you open the door fully. You're met with the warm light of the candles set up around the bedroom and the sweet aroma coming from them. Altough what really catches your attention, however, is Heeseung sitting behind a keyboard in front of the bed.

Your gaze wanders around the room, confusion settling in as a gasp escapes your lips.

“I- what is all this?” You look back forward Heeseung.

“I have a surprise for you,” he says, as he motions for you to sit down on the bed.

His excitement is unmistakable as he observes you settling onto the edge of the bed, making you chuckle lightly.

"I've been putting together a little something for you over the past few weeks" he says with a cheeky grin, his fingers dancing across the keyboard quietly.

"I know I've been spending a lot of nights at the studio, but I really hope what I've got out of it will make up for it..." You notice a hint of hesitation when he brings up his absence, and you wait for him to continue.

He lets out a small chuckle and says “What I’m trying to say is, I’ve been working on a song for you, and I’d like to play it to you… if you’d like that?” You see the tip of his ears turn a slight shade of pink and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you.

“Of course I’d like to hear it, Hee” you scoot closer to the edge of the bed and look at him with a gentle smile.

You can tell he’s feeling a bit anxious but he returns your smile and clear his throat. His gaze turns to the keyboard and he positions his fingers.

“I hope you’ll like it”.

As he starts playing your heart thumps loudly in your chest. Sure, Heeseung has always been a romantic, but you’d never imagine he’d ever write a love song for your ears only. You can’t help the tears that spill over as you hear him play so beautifully and how the lyrics are so perfectly written.

As the song comes to an end, you find yourself unable to hold back a sniffle. Heeseung stands up and approaches you, kneeling down in front of you.

”I know I’m not always the best at telling you how I feel so I thought I’d tell you through a song… and I hope your tearing up because you liked it and not because it was the worst thing you’ve ever heard” Heeseung chuckles as he gently wipes away a tear from your cheek.

You giggle and shove him slightly. “It’s the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard” you let out before you press a kiss to his lips.

Heeseung grins against your lips before kissing you again. “Good, because it’s all for you.

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⭒ Jay ⭒

Shows his love through actions, such as giving gifts or doing something for them.

The stress from the week weights heavily on your shoulders as you walk through the door to your and Jay’s shared apartment. You let out a weary sigh as you go to remove your jacket when something catches your attention- a small, beautifully wrapped box that sits on the drawer beside the door, and only then do you also pick up on the soft music playing in the distance.

“Jay?” You call out as you remove your shoes and pick up the box.

You hear soft footsteps approach and soon Jay comes into view.

“Hi, darling” he greets warmly with his signature smile lightning up his face

“Hi… What’s this?” You ask, holding up the box as Jay comes closer.

“Open it and see” he says as he kisses your temple.

You give him a suspicious look as you read the small note wrapped onto the box: “for you, just because”. A smile brings it’s way on your face and you glance at him before you start to carefully unwrap the gift. At the sight of the gorgeous diamond necklace inside you gasp.

“It’s so beautiful” you murmur, looking up at him with wide eyes. “But… why?”.

“Come with me” he answers, his tone secretive but gentle as he takes your hand. He leads you to the dinner table where you once again let out a gasp. The table is set with your favorite meal, with glasses of your favorite wine beside gleaming in the warm glow of the candles he’s lit.

“Jay…” You whisper, turning to look at him in awe. “What is all this?”.

He grins slightly as he reaches for the necklace in your hand. “I know works been hard on you lately, so I wanted to do something to help you relax” he answers, his voice low and sincere.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble…” you protest, as he moves behind you to clasp the necklace around your neck. “Just being here with you is enough”.

“I know” he murmurs against your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “But you deserve this… and so much more” his fingers brush softly against your skin as he readjust the necklace, then he turns you around to press a kiss softly to your lips.

”Now” he says, guiding you to a chair and pulling it out for you. “sit down and let me take care of you tonight”.

As you settle into your seat, you see him take a seat in front of you across the table, and your heart swells with love at the sight of him and you ask yourself how you got so lucky.

“Thank you for this” you say softly, your eyes brimming with affection.

He shakes his head, a glint of love in his eyes. “Don’t thank me. Like I said, you deserve this, my love”.

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⭒ Jake ⭒

Shows his love through physical touch, a way of making sure you feel his love and care.

The air feels slightly colder as you stretch, your head still foggy from just have woken up. You open your eyes and squint as they adjust to the morning light. A smile spreads across your face once your ears pick up on the soft sound of your boyfriend’s breathing.

You try to turn over, but his arms are wrapped tightly around you, holding you firmly against his chest.

You let out a quiet giggle as your movements stirs him. He groans slightly and instinctively tightens his hold around you.

“It’s too early. Go back to sleep” he murmurs with his groggy, sleepy voice, sending goosebumps across your skin.

“It’s 9 am, Jake” you giggle as you once again try to turn around, this time successful as you’re greeted by the sight of your half-asleep boyfriend.

You can’t help but smile as you look at him. His hair is disheveled and his lips are slightly pouty as he continues trying to sleep.

“You know” he mutters, his voice tinged with amusement. “I can feel you staring” a grin tugs at the corners of his lips.

You scoff playfully and close your eyes. “I’m not staring” you protest, pouting. But your eyes flutters open when you feel a pair of soft lips on yours.

You’re met with his brown, deep eyes as he smirks at you. “It’s okay” he says, tone teasing. “I like when you look at me”. His hand glides along your back, sending warmth through you.

Your face feels warm but you can’t bring yourself to care- not when he looks at you so intensely.

“I love waking up next to you” he whispers, his right thumb making circles against your skin.

A fond smile spreads across your face. “ I love waking up next to you too, Jake” you reply, your voice tender. You then move your left hand to the side of his face , your fingers tracing his jaw with tenderness. “You make me so happy”.

Jakes smile softens, his eyes filled with warmth as he pulls you even closer. “I love holding you”, he murmurs, burying his face into your neck. “You’re so warm” he adds, his words muffled against your skin as you feel shivers move through your body.

A giggle leaves you as his lips brush along your jaw. “Jake… it tickles” you laugh, squirming slightly.

“Hmph… I don’t care. I like kissing you” he answers, his voice playful as he peppers more kisses along your jawline, before moving up to your cheek, making you laugh more.

Finally, he pulls back to look into your eyes. His gaze is deep and filled with emotion. “I love you, you know” he says, his fingers tracing your back.

Your heart swells, and you smile at him, your voice soft as you reply, “I love you too, Jake”. You lean closer so you can wrap your arms around him, relishing in his warmth.

Jake holds onto you tightly, once again burying his face into the crook of your neck, as the two of you stay wrapped in each other’s embrace.

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⭒ Sunghoon ⭒

Shows his love in a subtle and quiet way trough meaningful gestures, such as remembering small details.

Sunghoon opens the door to the restaurant for you, and you smile warmly at him before stepping inside. The restaurant is dimly lit and the scent of food quickly envelops your senses. You feel the warmth of sunghoon’s hand resting against your back as the waiter guide you to your table.

Once the waiter leaves sunghoon pulls out your chair for you and you give him a soft thank you before you settle into your chair. You watch as sunghoon walks around the table and sit down across from you.

Your eyes wander around the area and a smile forms on your lips. “It’s so nice here” you say, your fingers lightly tracing the utensils neatly wrapped in a napkin on the table.

Sunghoon nods, a grin tugging on his lips. “I’ve been meaning to bring you here since I saw that it opened, but work has been stressful…” he trails off, guilt flickering in his expression.

You reach over and grab his hand that he had resting on the table in yours and rub his knuckles with your thumb.

“It’s okay” you reassure him, your voice soft. “We’re here now, that’s all that matters to me… besides,” you continue, a playful glint in your eye. “It’s nice to see you looking so relaxed” you tease and he lets out a chuckle and his smile returns.

“Well, that’s because you’re here with me” he says as he winks at you. The warmth of his words makes you feel heat up your neck.

The evening unfolds effortlessly, filled with conversations, laughter and heartfelt moments. After finishing dessert Sunghoon reaches for something in his pocket. You follow his movements with a curious gaze and give him a questioning look once he offers you a neatly wrapped square gift.

“What’s this?” You chuckle softly as you take it in your hand.

Sunghoon simply smiles and nods for you to open it.

You feel slightly nervous as-well as excitement as you start to unwrapped it and then you gasp.

Inside is a bracelet, with a sunflower charm on it.

“Hoon,” you breathe, your voice full with awe. “This is beautiful” you continue as you carefully take it out of the box, admiring the intricate details. “And a sunflower” you gleam as you meet his eyes.

He looks at you with soft eyes, his love for you shining through. “I remember you told me on our first date that you used to have a bracelet like this when you were younger but that you lost it. So i found this and it’s obviously not the same thing but-“.

You interrupt him before he says more, while smiling brightly. “It’s perfect! I can’t believe you’d remember that”. You reach over and squeeze his hand gently. “Thank you so much, I love it”.

Sunghoon smiles at you before he chuckles slightly. “I might have to start calling you my sunflower now” you let out a giggle at this.

“Mm, then I’ll have to come up with a nickname for you too” you replay with a grin.

As you walk home from the restaurant hand in hand, the night cold, Sunghoon lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to it and then he looks at the bracelet on your wrist. “It really suits you” he says softly, with adoration before he pulls you in.

You smile as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Mhm, that’s because i got it from someone special” you whisper against his lips.

Sunghoon’s smile is radiant and brimming with love, before he leans in to capture your lips in a soft, heartfelt kiss.

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⭒ Sunoo ⭒

Shows his love through compliments, he wants you too feel special.

It’s late at night, and you and Sunoo is cuddled up on the couch with a cozy blanket draped around the two of you, creating a feeling of comfort. The dim lights the room is bathed in makes the scenery warm and intimate. Leaning against his chest, you let out a laugh at the comedy movie you’d been so excited to see all week.

Unbeknownst to you, Sunoo’s gaze has shifted from the screen to you. He watches you intently, captivated by the way your laughter lights up your face. Your eyes glimmer with joy and your dimples make a subtle yet irresistible appearance- and he knows it’s his new favorite sight in the world.

“You know” he starts, his voice steady.

Your laughing pauses as you turn to face him.

“Hm?”

”I don’t think you realize how beautiful you are when you laugh like this” he says, his eyes filled with tenderness that makes your heart skip a beat.

Caught off guard you look up at him while a blush creeps onto your cheeks.

“Stop…” you mumble, trying to brush it off as your face gets warmer.

Although this only makes him lean in closer to you and take a hold of your face, holding it like it’s fragile.

“I’m serious” he says as he strokes your cheek softly. “The way your face lights up when you’re happy- it’s my favorite thing about you. You have this way of making every moment I spend with you feel special, like, I never have a moment I don’t treasure with you”.

Your heart swells as the warmth lingers on your cheek and with it a strange, indescribable warmth blooms inside you. You try to come up with a reply but the feeling of his sincerity has left you speechless.

“And it’s not only when you laugh, it’s everything you do. You’re kind, funny, beautiful, smart… you’re everything I could ever want and so much more” he says with love filled eyes.

“Sunoo” you sniffle as your eyes well up with tears and your voice trembles.

Sunoo brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch so gentle you feel yourself shiver.

”I love you” he says, his voice firm but filled with emotions. “With all that I am. I hope you see how amazing and special you are”.

A tear runs down your cheek as he’s soft finger wipes it away. You sniffle softly before you speak, “I’m so in love with you, sunoo.” You move your lips to his hand that’s on your cheek and kisses his palm.

You let out a soft chuckle as he smiles at you his expression filled with nothing but adoration. Your gazes lingers in each others and as if drawn by an invisible force the two of you lean closer.

“You’re so beautiful” he whispers before his lips meet yours in a kiss that feels so different then all the others you’ve shared with him. It’s so full of love and it leaves you breathless while your thoughts only revolve around the person before you.

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⭒ Jungwon ⭒

Shows his love through acts of service; for example helps you in different scenarios.

Exams where coming up, and you were stressed, to say the least. On top of that you are pretty sure you’ve caught a cold.

Your textbooks and notebooks are scattered around the desk, and you struggled to stay focused on the letters you’ve been rereading for five minutes now. You sniffle and readjust your glasses for what feels like the tenth time before reaching for a tissue you have laying among the chaos.

“I’m so tired” you mumble to yourself as you wipe your nose with the tissue before throwing it away.

You’d been studying for hours, yet there was still so much left to cover before you could feel even remotely confident for the tests and all you want to do is crawl under your covers and take a nap together with your boyfriend, Jungwon.

At the though of your boyfriend you look at the time: 8:45 pm. You let out a sigh as you realize he’s late, as he’d promised to be over by 8:00.

Along with everything already weighting on you this was the tip of the iceberg. You squeeze your eyes shut to stop the tears that prick in your eyes from falling but the feeling of disappointment swell inside you. You had told Jungwon earlier that day on the phone that you’d been feeling sick and about how overwheling everything felt- studying, grocery shopping, laundry. You just wanted him to hold you in his arms.

The longing for his embrace only intensifies as you realize that you’ll not be able to go shopping or do your laundry since studying took longer then planned.

You let out a quiet sob as you take off your glasses and bury your face in your hands. But right as the tears start to fall you hear the ring of your door bell.

Startled, you quickly stand up and walk towards the door. You might be disappointed that he’s late but you can’t bring yourself to stay upset at him, not when all you want is just to be in his arms.

When you open the door, you’re met with Jungwon smiling at you but his smile falters the moment he sees your tear-streaked cheeks.

“Are you okay?” He asks as you move to the side to let him in.

“N-no” you choke out as your voice breaks. “I’m so exhausted” your shoulders slump as you look at him with teary eyes.

Jungwon sets the tote bags he’s carrying on the floor and pulls you into his arms. “Oh, Honey… it’s going to be okay” he whispers, holding you close as he gently runs his fingers through your hair. “I promise”

You let out a muffled sob against his shoulder as he continues to hold you, his embrace warm and safe.

Some minutes pass, and once you’ve calmed down, he pulls back enough so that he can cup your face in his hands. “You feeling any better?” He asks softly.

“Only because you’re here…” you mumble, prompting a soft chuckle from Jungwon as he wipes away the remaining tears from your face.

Your eyes wanders from his to the bags he had with him. “What’s in the bags?” You question, curiosity breaking through your exhaustion.

Jungwon eyes widen. “Oh no, the milk!” He blurts out before he quickly takes the bags rushing to the kitchen. You follow after him and watch as he unpacks the groceries. Your eyes follow his movements as he takes out everything you’ve written down on your grocery list and your heart skips a beat.

“Wonnie?” You let out barely audible and he stops his movement and turns to you with a sheepish expression. “W-hat?… why?” You question in disbelief, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jugnwon looks at you as his ears turns a slight pink. “You said you weren’t feeling well and that you still have so much to do- like grocery shopping- so I thought… if I could at least take care of that for you, it might take some weight of your shoulders” he says as he looks at you with his kind eyes.

Tears well up in your eyes, this time not from exhaustion and you quickly walk around the counter to wrap your arms around his waist.

“Thank you” you sniffle as you feel his arms wrap around you, “this means so much to me” and even though you can’t see it he smiles softly before he kisses the top of your head.

“It’s the least I can do” he whispers, his voice filled with warmth against your hair.

He then pulls back slightly, just enough so that you can meet his eyes. “Now, let’s get you to bed” he says. “I’ll finish putting away everything, and when I’m done, we can watch a movie together. How does that sound?”.

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips. “That sounds perfect” you sigh content, hugging him tightly once more.

As you walk to your bed you can’t help but feel gratitude through out your body, having Jungwon by your side made everything a lot better.

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⭒ Ni-ki ⭒

Shows his love by spending time with you and doing things you both like.

You hear the front door close from where you’re layed underneath a couple blankets on the couch watching some show on tv. A smile makes it’s way on your face when you realize your beloved boyfriend has finally returned home after a three day trip for a concert in Japan. As his footsteps grow louder, you sit up, and a big smile appears on your face as you lock eyes with him.

”you’re home” you smile as you open your arms for him. Riki's eyes light up at the sight, and he quickly sheds his jacket and sets down his bags before he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

“I missed you” he mumbled against your neck as he breathes in his favorite scent.

“I missed you too, I don’t like being apart from you” you answer as you gently stroke his hair the way you know he loves. After a moment you both pull away and your eyes land on the canvases peeking out from the plastic bag next to his suitcase. You instantly know what he wants to do with them and you take a hold of his face and lock eyes with him.

“You didn’t” you beam.

“I did” he chuckles. "I couldn't get that TikTok trend that we saw out of my head, so when I had some free time in Japan, I picked up some canvases for us." Riki plants a kiss on your cheek as you wrap your arms around him again, this time squeezing him tighter with a joyful squeal.

Twenty minutes later, you and Riki find yourselves seated at the small table in your apartment, surrounded by paintbrushes and tiny containers of paint. A smile spreads across your face as the timer beeps, signaling that it’s time to switch canvases again. As Riki places the canvas in your hand you let out a laugh. “W-what is that?!” You let out.

“What!- how can’t you see what it is?!” Riki exclaims as he too lets out a laugh. “It’s super obvious that it’s a frog with a bucket hat!”

At that you burst out laughing again. “But why would you paint that on the picnic blanket I made?!” You laugh.

“It’s aesthetic” Riki replies with a serious expression, and you can't help but laugh once more. Suddenly, the canvas is taken from your grasp, and you turn back your gaze to Riki to see him pouting as he holds it.

“No- I’m sorry!” You giggle while you reach for the canvas which Riki pulls closer to himself. “It’s so nice! I see it now!” You hold back your giggle as you move to his side to take the canvas.

“You don’t mean that” he pouts if even possible more. You let out a small giggle as you take his face in your hand.

“I do, I just didn’t understand the aesthetic at first” you smile softly at him as you bite back a laugh.

Riki puts down the canvas on the table before he glances up at you. “You promise?”.

“I promise, you big baby” you giggle as you lean in and plant soft kiss on his pouty lips. As you pull away you see a soft smile on his face.

“I guess you’re forgiven” he lets out before he kisses your cheek.

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[letteredlettered]

In an answer to an ask, I was describing a WIP of mine that's about a friend of the protagonist who is completely in the dark about the protagonist's relationship with another friend of theirs. The fic is about the fact that though the friend is very close to the protagonist and thinks deeply about their feelings, they are still not able to see what is going on.

I think the reason I was interested in this fic was I really dislike the tropes like "A/B think they're being sneaky about dating but all their friends know," or "their friends knew A/B were meant for each other before they did" or "their friends try to get A/B together because they know A and B like each other." The fic I wanted to write was sort of the opposite of all of those, where the friend, despite being very close to the protagonist and deeply concerned about his welfare, is wrong about everything.

I think I have a lot of feelings about the tropes I listed, some of which are related to what I think friendship is and should be, others related to what friendship has been for me, all related to how I operate in this world, I think. First of all, most stories that employ those sort of tropes have friends going behind their friend's back and manipulating them. I would hate to find out that a friend manipulated me into some kind of meet-cute or confession instead of just having and open and honest conversation about it.

These stories often also have friends mistrusting their friends and not believing them; the protagonist will say, "I don't like him like that!" or "I don't see how we'd work as a couple!" and instead of taking the protagonist at their word, the friends decide they know the protagonist better than they know themself. And you know what, sometimes your friends do know you better than yourself; it can be very helpful that they do. It can be very helpful when they nudge you in a direction you thought you couldn't go, because you didn't know you could handle it or didn't know you needed it. But in the end, I find it offensive if someone doesn't believe with what I'm saying, if they're not engaging with what I'm thinking, if they're deciding they know better. Because even if they do know better, I still think and feel these things, and I want my feelings to be addressed, not ignored--even if they're wrong sometimes.

Which brings me to how I move through the world. I often feel I move in darkness. I don't know what other people think unless they tell me or make obvious demonstrations. And I feel that way partly because I so often feel misunderstood, because people read my expressions, or my tone, or don't listen carefully to the nuance of my words, and they assume things about me that I don't feel, that don't describe me, that have more to do with them than with me. And then there is so much of me going on under the surface that I don't know how to express in day to day life, things I feel and think about that other people don't guess. Lots of times, other people don't even seem interested.

I've never had people in my life speculate about whom I might be romantically interested in--at least, not to my face, unless they were my wife. I've never been asked if I like someone after middle school. I didn't date for 35 years, and was never asked to my face why, or whether I was interested, or why I wasn't with anyone, except a few times very gently by my mother. When I started dating a woman, no one said anything about me being gay. No one had questions. No one seemed interested in my sexuality or journey to get there.

Throughout my life, I never felt like I have been treated like a person who could have a romance, a person who could have sex, a person who could have a relationship. Was I too ugly? Was I too fat? Was it because I didn't present in a feminine way? Was I too loud? Was I too confident? Was I too intellectual? Was I too weird? Too awkward? Too unlike those around me? Was it because I'd never been with someone? Was it because I didn't talk about wanting it? Was it because I was too content, too happy? Was there something about me that screamed asexual, aromantic, this is someone who will never have a love story?

Around 10 years ago, I was talking to a friend with whom I'd never talked about any of this. We talked about work and our mutual acquaintances, her kids, my theater, and art. But one day she brought up a mutual friend of ours who was in her thirties, wanting to have babies and get married, but was having trouble finding a partner. My friend said something that gave me pause, something like, "Everyone wants to be with someone; no one wants to be alone. She just wants the life everyone has." And I said, "I don't have that life." And my friend instantly said, "Oh, but you're different."

I asked her why, and she couldn't say, only that I just didn't seem to want it. But what made her think that? What was it about me? I could understand if she was surrounded by people saying "I want this" over and over again, and she had never heard me saying that, maybe she drew some conclusions about me. But it felt strange. It felt hurtful--not because I need marriage and babies, but because I am automatically sorted in the category of "different" in this person's mind. They were just one person, but this seemed to also be the case with dozens of other people. Hundreds. Everyone wants this; it's normal--except for you, lettered. You're obviously different.

I know I'm actually very lucky. Many people would love to have my "problem." Many people who are asexual or aromantic, many people who haven't figured it out yet, many people who have been in a series of bad relationships and feel hopeless, many people who can't find someone to date at all, might love to have been in those shoes. They would love to not be asked "who are you dating, when will you marry, when can I expect grandkids?" they would love to escape "why don't you settle down? why don't you have a boyfriend? how can you still be single?" Maybe they would love to be told by my friend, "Oh, you're different, in the world of people we all expect to be paired up with other people, you just don't count."

But knowing that's what other people get asked, knowing that other people get constant questions about their love lives, so much so that it's annoying for them--and then knowing that no one ever asked me (except for my mother, gently and kindly, a few times, careful not to exert pressure) feels bad. Was I the sidekick in some story, the one no one expects to have a love story of their own? Could no one imagine me as a romantic interest? A sexual object? Am I the platonic ideal of a woman, untouchable and perfect in every way? Am I Mary Poppins?

Anyway, the simple answer is probably just that people are mainly self-centered, and if you don't bring it up, it doesn't occur to them. And to tell you the truth, I didn't often bring it up because while I would like to have been with someone, but I really don't need it; I just thought it would be nice. It wasn't a burning interest of mine, so maybe I shouldn't have even felt so bad that people seemed to make assumptions about me. (I'm just glad my wife didn't make assumptions like that; everything changed when my fire wife attacked.)

But since I am already a person who felt largely in the dark about how others feel, and feel that others are largely in the dark about me, this aspect of myself just felt like another facet of a blind operation. I often feel that I'm trapped in my own world, and you are trapped in yours, and we are all groping blindly for things we can never fully grasp, because you can never fully enter my world, and I can never enter yours.

And I recognize that the "friends know about their feelings" trope and the "friends get them together" trope is in some ways wish fulfillment--maybe everyone feels blind, feels unseen, and unknown, and they wish people would see them in this way, and know them. They wish people would step into their world and offer a hand, and lead them to another person's world, where they will never be alone.

But I, personally, find it very comforting to read about that blindness, to know that I'm not alone because we're all blind, and yet we still find ways to reach out to each other regardless.

[starfruitii]

DO I WANNA KNOW? — ft. suna rintarou.

synopsis ; no matter how many times you try to end it, you both come crawling back every time.

contents ; loosely inspired by the song 'do i wanna know?' post-breakup. angst. lovers to exes to ??? timeskip!suna x gn!reader. wc: 1.4k.

notes ; ik suna being arctic monkeys coded is an overused headcanon but do i wanna know is such a good song. anywayyy enjoy <3

You and Suna weren't together. Not anymore, at least.

There wasn't any fault on either side, nothing dramatic to split you apart. Just two people who weren't suited for a romantic relationship, as you came to bitterly realize. Maybe you could have made it work with some hard work and effort, but it was far easier to call it quits than risk spilling salt in the wound and ending up hating each other for the rest of your lives.

So you left it there, ending the symphony on a high note. You didn't stop to wonder what might have been, or dwell on the sound of music still ringing in your ears. It was over, there were no more heartbeats, no melodies. Only silence sung through your empty apartment.

You kept the breakup casual, agreeing to stay friends afterwards. Once those words fell from your lips, that was when it was set in stone. The line was drawn in the sand, strictly parting your relationship into the platonic category. Boundaries were made, silent promises to keep some distance between you.

But things were never that simple. After having you be his for so long, Suna didn't know how to let go of you just like that. Even the idea of being single felt foreign in his mind, the thought of you pushing away any chance of him falling for someone else. You were in a similar situation, still craving the addictive kind of love that only he could give you, yet reluctant to go back to how things were.

In the end, staying 'friends' was just a way to carefully avoid acknowledging the feelings still lingering in you both. He never stopped loving you, and you never stopped staring at your old pictures, both longing for the other like a missing limb. And just like clockwork, a phantom pain would strike and you would seek each other out again. The events played out the same way, over and over, like you were following a script.

It would go like this: every few nights, at least once a week, your name would flash across his screen. Suna would stare at it for a moment, relishing the sound of the distinct ringtone he set, so he always knew when it was you calling. It was the same contact as when you were together, the only change being the absence of the heart emoji beside your name.

It felt like your misery was aligned, your loneliness in sync, because every night that he was missing you the most, you would always end up calling.

Suna would answer the phone, seconds before it rung out, and pretend he wasn't waiting for the call. He'd entertain your small talk and excuses, whatever feeble reason you'd come up with to justify ringing him late at night, as long as he got the chance to hear your voice again.

Sometimes it was just that: a phone call. Sometimes, it was only a message. Sometimes, when the loneliness was hitting you both harder than you could bear, he would find some way to suggest meeting up.

It was always something simple, something harmless. A late-night run to the convenience store for snacks, or a walk around that park you loved, or just driving around until you were tired enough to fall asleep. And you would always find some excuse, or some reason to say no, but in the end you would always cave.

Suna would be out of his house in minutes, sliding the key into his ignition. He would meet you outside of your apartment, wordlessly opening the door for you to enter the passenger seat. And the seat would already be adjusted to how you like, because there's no one else he lets into his car, but you’d fiddle with the lever at the side anyway. Anything to pretend that at least one of you has moved on enough to be seeing someone new.

As he drives, his hand would stray from the gear shift, crossing to your side of the car, but never quite reaching your thigh. And you would pretend not to notice the halted movement, and pretend not to feel disappointed when he brought both hands to the wheel.

Maybe he'd make a remark about how it was just like old times, and maybe you would laugh and brush it off, but the story always ends the same no matter how he played the game. He was on a losing streak, gambling away his pride every time you called, but his self-control always seemed to loosen once the sun went down.

It was a little pathetic, when he focused on it for too long. It was no wonder his friends kept calling him a loser, when he came crawling back to you, his ex, the second you rang. At the very least, you were as pathetic as he was if you were the one dialing his number, but maybe that was just because you knew he'd pick up. You got everything you needed, a shoulder to cry on, a person to keep you company, all without the hassle of officially having a boyfriend again.

On his weaker nights, he would get sick of waiting around, and be the one to send the first message. You would answer quickly, although not as quickly as he did. The response would always be the same, and it would always go the same way.

Sometimes, during your meet-ups, you would be the one to cut them short, quietly asking Suna to drive you home. He would try not to look disappointed, and you would try not to slam the door as you left.

On your weaker nights, you wouldn't bother with trying to make up an excuse when he invites you to crash at his place instead. He would say to you “My house is closer”, or “We can watch a movie”, or “You always sleep better around someone else, don't you?” and you would defeatedly agree.

He would take you home—his home, not yours, though it used to be both—and you would leave your shoes by the door. You'd set up the blankets on the couch, and he’d bring you a glass of water, and you'd turn the channel to some trashy reality TV show that neither of you paid any attention to.

If you were feeling particularly down, and he was feeling particularly bold, he'd slide his arm around your shoulders to pull you close. It kills him, not knowing if the way you lean into him means anything, or if you're just craving the contact. He doesn't ask, not daring to disturb the unstable peace that you've built between yourselves, lest the whole unspoken arrangement come crashing down.

In the morning, when you wake up with his arms around your waist and one of your hands gripping a fistful of his shirt, you will peel yourself away quietly, and tiptoe away to find your shoes. He will find you right as you're about to leave, sluggishly running a hand through his hair as he mumbles something about staying for breakfast.

Then, after a brief back-and-forth, you will agree that the night was a mistake, that you're better as something closer to friends, and Suna will restrain himself from kissing you goodbye. You both will retreat to your own beds in your own homes, and imagine there is someone laying beside you to warm up the cold sheets.

Suna will shrug his shoulders when the possibility of a blind date is suggested to him by a friend, as though he has any interest in a partner who isn’t you. And you will nod along to your friends when they tell you to delete his number, even though you know in your gut that you never will have the courage to.

You'll ignore his messages for a while, and he'll pretend that means you've started to move on. You will both go about your lives as you always do, day after day, each acting as though you're doing fine on your own, and lying to your friends when they ask if you've cut contact yet.

But neither of you will be surprised when a week later, early in the morning when you should be sleeping, your name lights up on Suna's screen.

do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <3

[abberant-butler]

Will you miss me?

WC: 583, Barbatos/MC TW: death mention, kind of. time bendy answers.

____________________________________________________

There's been a sort of resignation in Barbatos' attitude ever since your relationship turned to the more romantic sort. Not an offensive resignation, nor a dismissive resignation- simply the feeling that something between you is… inevitable. That your whimsey and your sorrow are both what confuse Barbatos the most, and yet make him even more enamored with you.

His patience sometimes seems endless, and even when you find a button to press on him, his irritation only lasts a few fleeting moments. Sometimes that's more infuriating than his passivity, but his learning of humans and his steadiness are as much a part of your affection for him as your impulsiveness and hard head are to him.

It's just… those quiet moments. Years into what has become comfortable, and second nature. The little lingering things that whisper to the back of your tongue, and make you ask questions you know you don't really want the answers to.

"… Barb?"

Even now it's as if he knows that such a question is coming. "Darling?"

"… … Will you miss me? You know. When I'm. … Gone for good?"

His thumb trails up to rub gently back and forth on the base of your neck, and there's clearly a debate going on in his head before he leans in to kiss you softly. "Is this something you would like an answer to, or simply comfort?"

It's your chance to give up the question, or rephrase it, or just pull him closer in the bed and go back to sleep. Still. It's been on your mind for the better part of a decade. Might as well try to settle it.

"An answer, I think. … Maybe… a little bit of comfort, too."

"I already miss you, my dear. Yet I am ever happy to spend each day with you in your perception of linear time. It's like… Trying to focus on a single line, when everything is still happening all around it. I've quite a bit of practice doing it, but with you… it's even more difficult. I try not to look at the timelines where something bad happens, or the lines where things I want happen, instead of things that you want." Why you thought there might be an easy answer to this, you're not sure.

"I have already seen you go, and watched others grieve for you. I have already steadied my own grief by living in memories with you- memories which are just moments of the past repeating themselves again. Time, for me, isn't the same. In some ways it gives me great power, and in others… great pain. For you, it is exactly when you think it is, and we are exactly where you think we are. That's the only important part. I am in your arms, and you are in my bed, and I am as happy as I hope you are." He takes a deep breath, and then leans to kiss your eyelids. "You are never truly gone from me, not in the same way as those who have left are gone from you. … But I will miss you, yes. In a way that is my own."

Sliding your legs to intertwine them with his, you try to make sense of it. It's all a little strange. The theories of times and alternate lives and past and present. In the end you just silently agree that he's right. The only important part is that to you, you're here, with him, and someday, he will miss you.

[inseparabiles]

#<- THESE WERE MY THOUGHTS THE ENTIRE TIME CAUSE WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO HIM#WHY WOULD U PUT HIM THROUGH THIS PLEASE NO#in the two ive seen he just going *through* it too#neither of them are finished i think and hes still just at that point where he is having the worst time of his life whilst grieving#AND ITS MAKING ME SAD#😭😭#im so glad ur creating a fic where they both live cause so far the closest ive gotten to that is just. ghost geta#(he doesnt even interact with Caracalla he just kinda can watch his brother from beyond the grave until they meet again 😭😭)#i need more ppl to please let him keep his twin 🙏#well some ppl do but its purely incestuous smut so not what im looking to read ngl

THIS IS JUST HORRIBLE WHAT ARE OTHER PEOPLE DOING TO MY TWO SONS. WHY ARE THEY BEING MISTREATED. LET THEM BE TOGETHER AND HEAL AND GROW UP. to the degrees they can anyway. looking at Caracalla with so much love but also shaking my head

I love that you mention the ghost Geta story specifically as like, a near-midground between whatever the hell I'm doing and whatever the hell these other people are doing because it's actually the only story I'm peripherally aware of and it seemed sweet??? by what I saw??? But yeah no my heart cannot take any more grief and tragedy I'm straight up the hard rocky road along to FIX-ITS ONLY NOBODY DIES I WILL DIG YOUR COLD DEAD CORPSE UP MYSELF IF I HAVE TO AND IF IT HURTS ON THE WAY TO REDEMPTION THEN THE PAIN IS JUSTIFIED BY ITS GOALS

Also laughing at the last bit like. Of course it's y'all freaks who are putting weight on the side of "both twins survive" scale again. Our options, apparently: Caracalla dies because fixing him is too hard, Geta dies because Geta died and/or plot reasons(?? are there other people out there killing Geta I feel like Geta gets saved on principle), and nobody dies but it's by the graces of horny.

I don't know how and why this keeps happening, but no matter what fandom I'm in, I'm somehow always aligned with the brotherfucking group. And I keep doing the same thing every place I go, too, where it's like, I'm so aware of that happening to the left of me but my interests are squarely like an inch to the right, so I end up just awkwardly shuffling next to the incest writers like

and sweating profusely while at it.

I guess this fandom is not helped by the fact that the accusation of incest kind of comes with the title of Emperor and the franchise itself has leaned into it very heavily. Romans have left us a legacy.

And just the fact also that last time I posted something, there wasn't even a platonic tag for Geta and Caracalla.

Which gives me the freedom to rant about a tangent - I feel so weird about tagging my shit on AO3 because of the way I see their relationship. I thought about this when I posted my first fic, like, should I just go ahead and be the change the world needs to see with the & tag instead of /? And I deliberately went no, because it isn't exactly what I'm writing, either, and it somehow feels less accurate than the /. It's been a PAIN to tag for this fandom with these two, because I don't think what I'm writing or what I'm seeing is platonic, in the sense that people expect platonic to be, or in the sense that any healthy normal relationship would be. Tagging my fics with an & makes me worry I'm going to unintentionally trigger the shit out of someone who came there looking for something that it absolutely wasn't. But the relationship also isn't romantic or sexual by a long shot. It's something really fucked up in a grey area that isn't even between those two things but a category on its own. When your dedicated, devoted, loving and emotionally exclusive partnership is with a person who isn't a romantic partner but isn't not a partner at the same time. What the fuck do you even call that. I instinctively go with the slash tag, but by doing that, I'm misleading literally everybody who reads my stories, because slash implies there's going to be sexual or romantic content. But there isn't and it wasn't intended to be read that way per se, either. And queerplatonic still to me heavily implies no blood relation and referring to a sibling relationship as queer inherently gives off not great vibes, not that there was a relationship tag for that even if it fit somehow. It's just in that weird fucking no man's zone, off the charted maps.

Like. There's platonic, dedicated, loving relationships off to the right from where I'm sitting. They exist but there's a degree of sanity involved in that which is NOT found between these two. Then there's the brotherfucking community to the left doing their own thing. And then there's me in the middle, writing about twins who I can best describe as being one soul that the gods separated into two bodies.

What. The fuck. Do you call that. When you're tagging.

How do I categorise my stories without misleading literally everybody all of the time. It's horrible. I'd post my content without tagging it as ANYTHING if that was a viable course in terms of finding readership, but it isn't.

I love that one of my dream careers would be in archiving, given how much I clearly suck at the job already.

unhinged concept (I'm entering that stage): Lucilla actually does adopt Geta and Caracalla which ruins Acacius's life but also makes him their step-father and they finally get an actual father figure who teaches them how the fuck to hold swords and not be the worst people ever.

and we just cancel Macrinus entirely, which, I don't know what the hell happens to Lucius but that's someone else's unhinged concept to worry about.

And we put Caracalla on a leash because the boy cannot behave. That's no way to treat your mother

[shiftingparadymes]

🗯️ i might as well belong to both of you and the mess you always seem to drag me through

good evening simblr! yet another pleasantview render because ummmm. im brainrotted. i have no excuse. this render takes place on the night that lilith gave dustin his piercings only because dirk pays her to.

dirk and lilith are still very close. even though their romantic relationship ended, they remain best friends and have been since childhood. due to circumstances out of their control, they stop talking for a few years after 2007. they reconnect later on and their friendship is stronger than ever.

dustin and lilith have known of each other because of angela and dustin's relationship. they would never hang out with each other outside of dirk. they get along solely because they both love him. they have a sibling type of relationship. they make fun of each other but it's mostly jokes.

i like to think that this is a picture darren takes of them all together. he loves dirk's friends and he sees little parts of himself in both of them. as always my asks are open if you're curious about more of my thoughts towards them :)

cc credits go to: admiralaeris, @awingedllama, bastdawn, @blahberry-pancake, ebonix, @fanseelamb, @keoni-chan, liliili-sims, michelle, nrjsims, newsea, @platinumaspiration, @poppet-sims, @qrqr19, @rudhira, @simlaysa ! exact links to cc are listed here (scroll to the bottom).

[st5byler]

Mileven, The General Audience, and You

This is probably my first time ever making a post like this, but I find this discussion interesting. Also I just wanted a punchy title lol.

There has been a lot of discussion about 'The General Audience', more often called the GA when discussing Byler & Mileven, and I want add my piece (with at least one piece of evidence... My Mom)

Milevens Claims about the General Audience

So, I see Milevens claim that the General Audience is entirely on Milevens side, and that they believe in the ship.

I'd like to ask them where they end up getting this information post-Season 3 release.

This is entirely correct if you base it off of Season 1 & 2. It was a ship that people were rooting for! There were no flaws to speak on and their journey for each other was considered cute. But, well, there's more than 2 seasons of Stranger Things.

Season 3 was essentially the season to plant the seeds of doubt about Mike & Eleven having and keeping a romantic relationship. Season 1 was mostly unromantic, and Season 2 they were separated till the end - so by Season 3 when they had each other, all should be well, right?

Wrong. The cracks in the ship became more prevalent than ever. It also kicked off the Mike Wheeler hate. And, to be frank, Season 3 is also the worst season for him.

...And then we have Season 4. Mike & Eleven's plots with each other continue to be their only plotlines together. while I wasn't there for the Season 3 backlash, I was absolutely there for the Season 4 backlash. even within spaces that didn't ship Byler, Mileven was disliked.

I feel like the likes on this tweet speak volumes.

I do not believe the GA dislikes Mileven, but I do think they are tired of their relationship at this point - because it's been made up of more conflict than actual relationship stuff lol.

So why do Milevens still push the narrative that the GA still loves Mike and Eleven together? Because the GA is important! The reception to parts of the show from the audience ends up being something to at least take into account during the making of the next season, and if the GA are no longer that receptive to Mileven, then where does that leave the shippers?

My Mom

I mentioned her for a reason, because she's one of the people you can consider the General Audience. Or perhaps even a huge fan. She is a big fan of this show, collects merchandise and everything. Her favorite character is Eleven, and she's been watching since season 1 was released.

She is also a Mileven fan. She thinks they're cute together mostly, and she doesn't engage with fancommunities for Stranger Things (eg Reddit/Tumblr). She just lives in her own world ST-wise.

So when I asked her what she thought if Mileven broke up in Season 5, she said this. "Yeah, that would make sense. They haven't really been together long."

I was surprised, but I end up finding it more funny than anything. If my mom, who really loved Mileven & has never engaged with fancontent thinks it makes sense if Mileven broke up, than the GA who are probably less diehard than her are probably gonna be fine with Mileven breaking up.

TL;DR

The GA aren't as big of fans of Mileven as the shippers claim they are, and are probably going to end up fine if they broke up, lol.

(Note, sorry if this is incoherent ramblings, I don't do these kinds of posts but I hope it makes sense!!)

[smile-files]

randall and henry are likened to brothers constantly in this game, which makes it kind of ridiculous that i never picked up on that as a kid. of course, it doesn't necessarily mean they do see each other as siblings, and certainly the way they were raised wouldn't automatically make them siblings regardless (they aren't biologically related and henry wasn't adopted, per se), but the idea that they have a brotherly relationship is certainly there.

to that end, there's nothing inherently incestuous about seeing henry and randall as a romantic pairing, as their status as brothers is entirely dependent on whether or not they see each other that way, something which isn't stated in the clearest of terms. i certainly would harbor no ill-will against the ship or those who ship it...

though having come this far in my miracle mask rewatch, and knowing that at the end of the day the most important things are randall's compassion for henry and henry's dedication to randall (and not any potential romance therein), i'm inclined to shift my personal view of them: to see them as brothers more than a couple. that's sort of awkward, considering how i've posted and reblogged ranhen stuff frequently up until now, but it's really no big deal. there's nothing wrong with it, as i had a different view of them then, but going forward i'd be posting about them in a different light!

and anyway, it's easy enough to reframe my thoughts on them... their relationship is still just as heartwarming and heartbreaking...

imagine you're henry, a small, sensitive little boy. you live in the household of the wealthy ascots, but they didn't adopt you: you're their servant, not their son... and because of that, you have to constantly see yourself as below them, even the ascot kid who's your age. naturally, your self-esteem starts incredibly low... except, for some reason, the ascot kid - a boy named randall - treats you not just as a regular child, someone on his level, but as your brother. it's inexplicable, but it's true, and as a token of this, he's given you his favorite toy robot: a symbol of his love for you. even if his parents will never treat you as their son, he continues to treat you as his brother.

randall takes you on adventures with his friends angela and dalston, the former of which he has a crush on. when with randall, you feel like you're more than just a servant: you feel on top of the world. despite being sensitive and timid otherwise, you're excited to go on adventures with him, picking up some of randall's fervent love for treasure-hunting. perhaps you feel like nothing without him, as he's the only person who has shown you love...

unfortunately, once you become a teenager, mr ascot pulls you away from your childhood, your education, and your friends to train to be a butler: he sees your diligence, your obedience, your thoughtfulness, and thinks you more valuable to the household as a servant than the flighty randall is as a son. now the only person your age you can ever interact with is randall, and then only when he's home... all you have is the boy who chose to be your brother... when he is around, he talks to you about archeology: he knows how important you are, how wise you are, and you help him uncover secrets relating to the mask of chaos, a relic massively important to him. you're more than willing to help randall with this. after all, he chose to be your brother. you'd do anything for him. one part the feeling of subservience instilled in you from your life as a servant, one part the feeling of loyalty towards someone who made you feel worth anything... you want to be his servant, if it means he'll treat you like you aren't one.

but every time randall leaves the house, he spends hours with angela and another boy, a new boy... a boy named hershel... a boy who, like you, balances out randall's energy and ambition. you feel he has taken your place in your absence. you spend every day working menial tasks for mr ascot: when randall is gone, you are nothing but a servant, waiting to be a brother again. and while you are a servant, hershel gets to be with randall. you don't like hershel very much... why, he doesn't even want to go on adventures with randall. absurd! why even be his friend?

randall wants to unearth the treasures of the azran, with the mask of chaos guiding him towards glory. he feels it is his destiny, and in fulfilling it, he would impress angela's parents enough to let her marry him. he needs this, so you need him to get it - and so you help randall prepare for his expedition. you wish to join him, instead of that hershel boy... you long to adventure with your dear randall again, but beyond that, you don't trust hershel to keep him safe. you could keep him safe. after all, if you're with randall, you feel on top of the world, and you'd do anything for him. but hershel? you don't trust hershel, and so you worry about randall. so long as you can't be there with him, perhaps he shouldn't even go... he promises to be safe, and that this will be his last expedition. you trust him, because he has chosen to be your brother, and he loves you, and he'd never lie. you trust him, unlike hershel. you help him sneak out of the house, even if it means seeing him leave with hershel into a wilderness you cannot help him through.

you think randall must come back, for he would never break a promise. and anyway, you cannot fathom life without him. for he chose to be your brother, in a house that used you as a machine. at least while he's away, while you're forced to be nothing but a servant again, you can await his return, and the return of your worth as a person with him... you couldn't bear to be a machine forever... a robot executing tasks until its power runs out...

hershel returns. randall is gone, he says. you don't believe him. you hate him. randall is alive. hershel gave up on him. but randall never gave up on you, so you cannot give up on him. randall is alive. he must come back, for he promised. life without him is impossible. thus, so long as you live, he must be alive as well. and so you dedicate your life - a life which you feel is only worth anything because of him - to randall's life. you are willing to make yourself into a machine, into a robot, to execute this task: loving randall so much, as he'd loved you, that you bring him back from the dead.

and so you spend half your life dedicated to him. you "marry" angela so she doesn't have to marry dalston, ready to be with randall again when he returns. you spend time and money searching the ruins he disappeared in yourself, then organizing search parties to do the same; all of the ruins' treasure is spent on looking for randall, or for building a beautiful city for him to live in when he returns. it is all for him. you work yourself to the bone, just as his parents had done to you. you are randall's servant, for he chose to be your brother. you live for him, for without him you have no life: without him, you are a broken toy robot.

someone has come to destroy monte d'or, the beautiful city you made for randall. and this someone, this "masked gentleman", keeps pinning the blame on you, as if you'd destroy any of this... no, you'd been saving it all for randall... and hershel, who has returned on angela's request to solve the mystery of the masked gentleman, has the gall to blame you for this all. how dare he? not only does he take your place at randall's side, he never even knew the place he was taking... you hate hershel. you only comply to his requests to save monte d'or.

and hark... the masked gentleman is randall himself. you were right, he wasn't dead, even though you were irrational and desperate for thinking so. and he hates you. he thinks you took his angela, and his fortune, and his family, and his glory. he was manipulated into seeing you this way, after almost two decades of amnesia. and he hates you. and he regrets ever choosing to be your brother. but you cannot be mad at him... you can barely even explain yourself... you're lucky hershel is able to do that for you. if not for him, you would never have gotten your brother back.

how lucky you are... giving up your personhood for so long really paid off, and now you just might let randall make you feel like a person again...

[penquinnpebbles]

Dysmorphio's Back At It Again! | Bill Cipher x Reader

Was feeling not so good today, but then I was inspired by a certain page in my Book of Bill! This is incredibly self-indulgent lmao

Synopsis: You don't like the way you look. Bill decides to cheer you up in his own weird way.

Content: can be read as platonic or romantic, established relationship (timeline is unclear but like assume he's just living with you or something), OOC Bill Cipher, talks of dysmorphia and self-deprecation, attempt at comfort, mostly lighthearted and silly, Bill's advice may not work for everyone!! but he does mean well (or is trying to anyways)

You feel like you're doing something wrong.

You stare at the mirror, eyes zoning in on every flaw. The more you look, the more things you find that makes your chest tighten. A zit there, some dry skin here...

Your hair is unflattering on your head, and your face shape reminds you of lumpy clay. Your lips are dry, and your eyes have bags that make it look sunken--like a skeleton or a corpse. Your body is awkward looking, and you're barely fashionable enough to pull it off.

Who are you kidding? Nothing looks good on you. The styles you try to copy off of Pinterest or any other site never end up working out: You never seem to look as good compared to the people in the picture.

...You don't get it. You thought that, by now, things would change. As a kid, you believed that you'd look better when you grew up. Nicer. More attractive. That was how puberty worked, right? You go through an awkward phase as your body grows, and when you become an adult, you'd be the stunning and most drop dead gorgeous looking person you dreamed of being.

Of course, you understand now that's not how it really works. Technically, yes, puberty is like that. But realistically, you're probably not going to turn into a super model. And that was fine with you.

Really, it was.

Until you saw your friends and can't help but think how lovely they look. Then you see the people around you and think that they look lovely, too.

Then you look at yourself.

And you can't help but think that 'lovely' is the last word you'd use.

You know that beauty is subjective. You know that your younger self's mentality of 'I'll instantly look amazing when I grow older!' is flawed, because good looks aren't something you can grow into.

But looking at everyone else, and how they all seem to grow into that 'good looking/attractive' person you imagined... Meanwhile, you feel like you're still stuck in the awkward phase.

You let out a quiet sigh.

You just want to see yourself and feel good about how you look. Is that too much to ask?

"Hey there, slick!"

You startle and let out a yelp, stumbling back. Bill laughs from his spot next to you.

"Wow, you're awfully jumpy! Too caught up in your self-deprecation spiral to even notice I'm here?" Bill summons his simple black cane and twirls it in his fingers, eye shining with mirth. "Be glad you evolved to be a predator species, kid. Being that distracted usually means you'd end up as someone's dinner!"

He cackles, and you calm down your racing heart.

"Anyways," Bill snaps his finger, cane disappearing. "I can't help but notice you staring blankly at yourself in the mirror for the past 2 minutes! You finally lost your mind after being around me for so long?"

You open your mouth to say something, before thinking better and closing it. Bill takes in your silence with a hum, eye raking over you.

"Ohh, I see what's going on. You don't like the way you look, huh?"

You turn to face him. Wow, it's like he read your mind. Though, knowing Bill, he probably did.

Bill only shakes his head. "Looks like Dysmorphio's back at it again!"

Your face twists into confusion. Dysmorphio? Bill catches your expression and his eye crinkles like he's smiling.

"He's from the mirror dimension," Bill clarifies. "And let me tell you, he's a real piece of work! He's the reason why people stay inside because 'your face looks weird today'." He does air quotation marks and rolls his eye, and scoffs. "Pretty stupid, if you ask me."

Bill's words make shame trickle in your gut, and you look away.

He falters at that.

"Hey, c'mon, I didn't mean that you're..." Bill trails off, hand outstretched and voice softening just a tiny bit.

Bill almost touches your shoulder before he stops himself, fingers curling into his palm. His eye looks to the side, contemplative... Then he steels himself with a familiar spark of confidence.

Bill grabs your collar-

"C'mere!"

-And drags you in front of the mirror. You let out a strangled noise at the sudden movement and try to find your footing when Bill lets go.

After you balanced yourself, Bill clears his throat.

"Alright, kid, there's no easy way to break this to you. I know it's not hard for creatures like Dysmorphio to get in your head- I mean, look at me! I got in easy peasy!" He leans forward, finger pointing at you. "But that doesn't mean you should ACTUALLY listen to him!"

You perk up at that, and Bill leans back casually, floating at your eye level.

"Here's the truth, slick. You are disgusting."

You deadpan.

"BUT!" He quickly adds, "Guess what? So is everyone else! If you think about it, you're ALL just a bunch of meat computers in a slowly deteriorating flesh prison. So why not FLAUNT it? Here-"

He grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face the mirror.

"Repeat after me," Bill says. "And I mean actually repeat it. Don't just read my words, alright? Actually repeat after me, or I'm going to eat your hair while you sleep."

Bill clears his throat, looking at you in the mirror.

"I am a REPULSIVE BEAST OF UNFATHOMABLE WRETCHEDNESS!"

Bill waits for your response. You sigh and decide to humor him. His eye lights up when you do, and he continues.

"I FEED ON YOUR DISGUST!"

"I AM REPUGNANCE INCARNATE, AND SHAME CANNOT CLAIM ME. Don't forget that last bit, that one's important!"

You repeat his words as you look at yourself in the mirror. The sheer goofiness of it all makes you feel... Lighter.

"There!" Bill pats your shoulder, proud. "Doesn't that feel better?"

You nod.

"Good." Bill lets his hands fall to his sides. "Now HEADBUTT THE MIRROR TO SHOW HIM WHO'S BOSS!!!"

You give him a look. Bill huffs.

"No?" You shake your head in response. Bill crosses his arms. "Fine... I'll do it for you!"

He points a finger at the mirror and shoots out blue flame like a gun. The mirror shatters, glass shards flying everywhere as Bill laughs maniacally.

Thankfully, none of the shards hit you, considering an invisible shield comes up to protect you and Bill. You wonder whether or not you were safe because you happened to be near him, or if he included you on purpose.

The thought makes you smile.

Bill dusts off his hands, "Welp! There's your lesson for the day, slick. Beauty is overrated and fake, because EVERYONE is revolting! Try reveling in your own horrifying nature for a change. It's great, trust me!"

He slings an arm over your shoulder, eye shimmering in satisfaction.

"Embrace the weirdness! Be proud of your fleshy outer shell! And don't forget to DESTROY all mirrors to taunt Dysmorphio on how he TOTALLY FAILED to get to you!!!"

Bill starts laughing again, swaying you back and forth in his hold. You look down at the floor and spot your reflection on the several glass shards scattered around.

And you find that you like what you see.

Yeah yeah cheesy ahh ending or whatever IDC!!! /lh

This was honestly just written as a personal pick me up, because I was feeling down. And what better way to make urself feel better than to write about your blorbos!!

Also, first time writing for Bill Cipher!! Dont think I got his character quite right, but eh, I'll get better at writing him in the future.

It's also wrote this in the middle of the night, so it's barely proofread WAHHSHSA I hope you still enjoyed it, tho!!

[cuckoldlifeofjosie]

I snooped on her phone again. She hates when I do it, so, of course, I won't tell her. But there I was, caught in one of those bouts of angst, my mind swirling with thoughts of what the future might hold. It’s a dangerous rabbit hole for a cuckold like me. One where arousal and insecurity intertwine in ways most people wouldn’t understand.

There it was, a string of messages between her and him. He is away on vacation, and he has been texting her about how much he wants to bring her there. “You’d love it,” he wrote. “I can already picture you on the beach with me.” Her reply was playful, flirty, but telling. “That sounds amazing,” she said, followed by a little heart emoji.

He then sent her a photo of a Tiffany store, the caption reading, "I even found a place we can pick out rings." My heart clenched, and not from jealousy, but from something deeper, something more confusing. Her response was innocent enough. "You crack me up, I love it."

It’s just flirting, I told myself. It’s fantasy. Two people in love playing with possibilities. If I had a girlfriend I was falling for, wouldn’t I do the same? That’s part of what makes a relationship exciting, right? The idea of shared adventures, secret plans, and places only the two of you will ever go. Even what a life together looks like.

My mind couldn’t help but wander. I began to visualize it, the two of them together on some tropical beach. Away from the weight of real life, the responsibilities of being married with kids. There, they wouldn’t have to look over their shoulders or think about who might see them. They could just be a couple. Free.

At home, they’re a couple too, but it’s different. She’s my wife, and she’s a mother. He’s married too, with his own obligations. When they go out, there’s always a sense of caution, a need to tread lightly. People know, of course. They see them together and probably whisper about it. But they’re careful. They have to be.

It’s funny, being a cuckold. Here I was, snooping on her phone, stumbling onto something that could’ve made me angry, but instead, I found myself fantasizing. I could picture them there, the way she would glow under the sun, the way he would look at her, knowing she was his in those moments. At home, she’s mine too, but out there, she would be fully his.

And what do I do with this? Do I tell her I snooped? No. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way. Nothing good comes from invading someone’s privacy, even when it’s arousing. Too many nights spent spiraling into angst over a text or a picture, failing to see it for what it is. Their relationship, their fantasies, their connection. Me being the bad guy for snooping.

So instead, I’ll encourage. I’ll drop little hints about how they should take another romantic trip. Maybe I’ll even suggest destinations, knowing it would thrill her. He’s already made it clear what he wants he wants her as his, as much as he can have her.

And me? I’ll stay here, her husband, her cuckold, the man who loves her enough to watch her be loved by someone else. Because in the end, what matters most is her happiness. And if she glows brighter in his arms, who am I to stand in the way?

What started as a bout of angst has, once again, turned into arousal. It always does. And maybe that’s what it means to love her this way, to embrace the push and pull, the hurt and the heat, and the unshakable desire to see her fulfilled, even if it’s not with me. I'm a cuckold after all.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[OLD ART ALERT] A COLLECTION OF SCENES FROM THE GILLIONS CATSCRATCH ARC THAT BROUGHT ME GREAT JOY. i love fishy chips especially when its just gillion being delirious and violent and hostile