#and just wanted to tumblr post instead of writing papers

[archivistic]

(please excuse this petty complaining) I tried to read Lesbian Love Story: A Memoir in Archives but I got so annoyed by the author's "dusty archives" bullshit and half-assed ~research~ that I couldn't make it past the 2nd chapter even though I love lesbians, memoirs, and archives!!! I was so annoyed that I learned how to use the annotate feature in my kindle specifically to complain about the line "I don’t have a history degree, but I do have lived experience, and that should make me just as qualified as the scholars who have come before me" like... BUDDY. Historians have a job??? That they get trained to do??? It is not just ... reading people's letters???????

[polaroidcats]

Ugly crying & the marauders generation - a pseudo-scientific approach (my marauders crying PhD abstract)

Abstract

In recent days, there have been a variety of claims as to who the prettiest and ugliest crier in the marauders generation could be. This paper aims to address the recent surge in opinions on the matter, and categorize different approaches as well as add a new approach to the scientific examination of ugliness/prettiness when it comes to crying. I hope to provide readers with an overview of the current state of research and encourage all marauders scholars to add their own and I intend to make a contribution to the discourse by committing to the bit and writing a pseudo-academic paper about it instead of actually working on my thesis.

Introduction

In the following paper, the discourse about 5 marauders era characters will be examined in regards to their various levels of perceived ugliness whilst crying. Scholars who may ask why Peter [Pettigrew] is not included in this analysis are advised to refer to acclaimed marauders ugly crying scholar @lynxindisguise's (2023) original poll on the popular blogging website "tumblr.com" which did not include Peter, but rather two non-marauders characters named Lily and Regulus. This paper will follow that approach, since Peter is the nastiest skank bitch I have ever met, I do not trust him and he is a fugly slut. The characters included in this approach are as follows: James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Regulus Black.

Following the scientific criteria for ugly crying, as stated by lynxindisguise et. al (2023), the question of the ugliest crier can be answered by observing the crying person and assessing their ugly-levels on the following parameters: (1) unbecoming facial expressions, (2) facial swelling/blotching, (3) unsettling noises, (4) snot factor, (5) tear volume, (6) general loss of dignity, (7) glistening eyes/lashes, (8) Victorian heroine factor, (9) elegant tear-wiping, (10) post-cry glow (ibid).

Criteria (1)-(6) can be categorized as the ugly crying parameters whereas (7)-(10) are pretty crying parameters, creating a false binary between ugly and pretty crying, which may be problematised and addressed in another the paper. In contrast to lynxindisguise’s original 10 criteria to measure the aesthetics of crying, this paper proposes to add (11) explosiveness of cry as another ugly crying parameter, in order to get a more clear assessment of where on the ugly-pretty crying scale a character falls.

The ugly crying parameters

(1) Unbecoming facial expressions

James Potter is mentioned in this category by several marauders scholars: @jaylienpotter talks about his red face and ugly sobbing, @artbyace mentions his “scrunched up cry face” and @sectoren claimes “james (…) is that one handsome guy that when the waterworks get going becomes like. Cartoonishly ugly”, raising the question of upkeeping toxic masculinity in order to avoid having to witness more of James Potter’s crying “mug”.

Though James Potter features heavily in this category, another character who is also mentioned just as often is Remus Lupin: @kaaaaaaarf, @appreciatedmoron and @http-starboy all emphasise that Remus Lupin is the one with a red and blotchy face.

(2) facial swelling/blotching

While there is a definitive overlap between the categories of facial swelling/blotching, unbecoming facial expressions and snot factor, Sirius’ and Regulus’ victorian heroine complexions, which give them an advantage in the homonymous category, may be to their disadvantage in the “blotching” category. This will require further research by other scholars.

(3) unsettling noises

James Potter is mentioned in this category by Jaylienpotter (2023), claiming he not only hiccups when crying but also that “his cries are one of the most heartbreaking things you’ll ever hear” and similarly, artbyace states that “James loves and feels so loudly”, whereas “Sirius is silent”, both sentiments are reminiscent of znelda’s (2023) statements that James “was allowed to feel his emotions freely in a loving household” and “Sirius (…) [is] used to hide [his] feelings and [has] become stoic”.

With several other scholars, among them also @jamesunderwater (2023) raising the point that James may be the ugliest crier due to him being “the only one well adjusted enough to have access to his feelings” this raises the question of possibly introducing another category, maybe of emotional awareness/stability to be able to measure this parameter more efficiently, though emotional vulnerability may also just be a part of the unsettling noises parameter, suggesting that there is a correlation between noisiness and the existing environment being welcoming to and accepting of various expressions of emotions.

(4) snot factor

The most popular winner in the snot factor category seems to be Remus Lupin, with several scholars agreeing that his sobs are the dampest and snottiest out of all the candidates. kaaaaaaarf (2023) writes “he turnes all red and blochty and snot drips out of his nose (…) he cant (sic) not cry with his mouth open as well so there is a lot of spit”, and appreciatedmoron (2023) agrees with kaaaaaaarf on this.

It only seems right to me to include spit in the snot category as well, seeing as they’re both crying-related bodily fluids that add to the ugly-cry factor. http-starboy (2023) also mentions snot in regards to Remus Lupin, which compared to both their comments in (1) opens up the question of how unbecoming facial expressions, more particularly redness of the face and snot factor may be related, as several authors seem to write about both specifically in relation to each other. Whether this is just pure coincidence or not would need further research, for which we currently do not have enough funding. This is only one of the many research gaps in the relatively new field of marauder’s ugly crying studies, which cannot fully be addressed in this paper.

James Potter is also mentioned in the snot category, namely by the marauders scholar artbyace (2023).

(5) tear volume

Artbyace (2023) claims James Potter is “full on bawling” which can only be assumed to refer to tear volume, but the most convincing argument for tear volume comes from the acclaimed marauders scholar @fruityindividual (2023), stating that “tsunami warning tones go off in sirius’ brain anytime remus is close 2 (sic) tears” which already indicates high levels of tear volumes. The author then goes on to specify the volume by claiming that “indeed the ocean wishes rj lupin would jump in and help contribute 2 (sic) rising sea levels”, further emphasizing the volume of Remus's tears.

(6) general loss of dignity

@pastaplatypus (2023) writes about James Potter not being able to do a Melodramatic Bollywood Cry, which is perceived as inherently racist by the crier.

I would like to argue that Sirius Black also deserves to be mentioned in this category. While as of today, with less than 1 hour left to vote, 15.5% of voters agree that Sirius is the ugliest crier, the more outspoken voices all argue for different ugly criers. Due to their upbringing, I am tempted to name both Black brothers in the “loss of dignity” category and look forward to reading future contributions to this discussion.

The pretty crying parameters

(7) glistening eyes/lashes

Undoubtedly Sirius Black deserves to be mentioned in this category. I believe his dark lashes and glimmering eyes are part of what makes him the prettiest crier. Whereas Remus’s eyes also sometimes glisten or appear red, and it is usually attributed to be caused by drug consumption, which more often than not is a wrong assumption, but he happily goes along with the pretense of being a weed-smoking bad boy in order to hide his ugly crying damp tendencies.

(8) Victorian heroine factor

It almost seems superfluous to even mention Sirius (and, to a lesser degree, Regulus) Black in this category. This category was made for Sirius, as is apparent when reading lynxindisguises (2023) description of the victorian heroine factor, in response to a question by the scholar @plecotusauritus:

“the Victorian Heroine Factor is a deeply scientific assessment of the Vibes. Is this person giving tragically beautiful, windswept Victorian Heroine, sobbing gently into their hands while sprawled across a boulder or a well or a fountain of some sort? When they look up at you, do their tear-plumped lips part elegantly as a single tear slides down their cheek?”

(9) elegant tear-wiping

There hasn't been a lot of research in this area, but I would like to propose handkerchiefs with embroidered initials and family crests as another potential factor in favor of the Black brothers scoring high marks in this category as well as the Victorian heroine factor.

(10) post-cry glow

Artbyace (2023) claims “lily is always beautiful (…) even when crying”, which is echoed by znelda’s (2023) earlier claim that “Lily (…) [is] a woman and no woman is ugly when crying.”

Sirius is the other popular choice by marauders scholars for this category, with @in-flvx (2023) stating that he “handsomely handsomes while dying after 12 years of torture hell and another year in shackles”, which would mean that “a few tears would[n’t] stop him from being the hottest person in the room at all times” (ibid).

Additional parameters

I am suggesting to introduce an additional metric in order to further specify and better assess the ugly-crying levels:

(11) explosiveness of cry

@felixantares (2023) introduces the idea that Remus “is the type that very few people have been seen cry because he ignores every difficult emotion hes (sic) ever had (…) and it all explodes at once and its horrible to watch when he breaks down”, a sentiment shared by several of the other authors mentioned above in various other categories.

Further opinions & conclusions

The most popular consensus seems to be that Sirius cannot be the ugliest crier, sometimes also in direct comparison to his brother: @spindrifters (2023) answers the question of the ugliest crier with “obviously it’s regulus”, elaborating that “at least [it’s] definitely not sirius bc (sic) reg is canonically less handsome in all ways” which brings up the question if regular beauty plays into ugly crying. This is contrasted by lynxindisguises argument, that Sirius may be an ugly crier because he’s so gorgeous, and his ugly crying subverts the expectations of beauty:

“the most beautiful man alive looks hideous while crying, and his deeply awkward and perpetually damp bf (sic) is literally in his element while crying – dampness becomes him, you might say.”

This statement raises yet another question – does regular crying make the crier more or less ugly? Can an ugly crier become a pretty crier by practice or are we all born either ugly or pretty criers, condemned to this fate for life?

While this paper has given an overview of the current state of research to ugly crying/pretty crying, it has also raised many more questions. Other topics which may be addressed in future papers also include the philosophical question whether ugly crying is in the eye of the beholder and if it is possible to ugly cry without being perceived, and if it is possible to ugly cry if the person perceiving you doesn’t find it ugly. Since the research field of ugly crying is a relatively new one, we can only hope to read many more opinions on these and other topics in the future, and I look forward to reading different scholar’s approaches to these highly relevant topics.

[chucklechampion]

hey i’m genuinely sorry to everyone i haven’t messaged back here, going through a lot right now and just don’t have the bandwidth to keep anything going

[janmisali]

what do you think of tone indicators in general?

unfortunately my thoughts on tone indicators are somewhat nuanced. fortunately, this is tumblr not twitter, so I can just write out my full thoughts in one post and be as verbose about it as feels necessary.

speaking as an autistic person (and I know there are other autistic people who don't hold this same view, this is just my perspective), I think as an accessibility tool, the extended set tone indicators in current popular use is fundamentally misguided.

the oldest ones, /s for sarcasm and /j for jokes, make sense. their notation isn't the most intuitive thing ("does /s mean sarcastic or serious?") but it's not too difficult to explain what they mean. I've had to spend my whole life learning by brute force what different tones of voice mean and what they change about how I'm supposed to interpret something, so I already know what "read this in a sarcastic voice" and "read this as a joke" are supposed to mean. my existing skills can be translated into the new form without too much effort.

the same thing applies to emoji and emoticons. I know what facial expressions mean, because I had to learn what they mean. figuring out if :) is sincere or not from context is a skill I've already needed to develop. it doesn't come naturally for me, but it's something I already at least somewhat know how to do.

most of the tone indicators in current use uh. don't work like this.

tone indicators like /ref or /nbh don't correspond to specific tones of voice. I don't have a "I'm making a reference" voice or a "I'm not talking about a person who's here" voice that I can picture the sentence being read in. these do not indicate tones, they're purely disambiguators. they clarify what something means without necessarily changing how it would be read out loud.

and on paper, that's fine, right? like, it's theoretically a good thing to take an otherwise ambiguous statement and add something to it that clarifies what you meant by it. the problem is that these non-tone tone indicators are not even remotely self-explanatory. it's up to me, the person who is being clarified to, to know what all these acronyms are supposed to mean, and how they change the way I'm supposed to interpret what something means.

it's, quite literally, a newly-invented second set of social cues that I'm expected to learn separately from the set that I've already spent my whole life figuring out, and it works completely differently.

sure, these rules are (in principle) less arbitrary than the rules of facial expressions and tones of voice and how long you're supposed to wait before it's your turn to speak, but they're also fully artificial and recently invented, which means they're currently in a constant state of flux. tone indicators go in and out of fashion all the time, and the "comprehensive lists" are never helpful.

in theory, I appreciate the idea of people going out of their way to clarify what they mean by potentially ambiguous things they post online. if it worked, that would be a really nice thing to do.

however, sometimes I imagine what the internet would be like without them. what if instead of using /s, the expectation was that if you're sarcastic online there's no guarantee that strangers reading your post will know what you meant? what if instead of inventing more and more acronyms to cover every possible potentially confusing situation, we just... expected one another to speak less ambiguously in the first place?

so, I on paper like the idea of tone indicators. I think it's good that some people are trying to be considerate by being extra clear about what they mean by things. but if tone indicators didn't exist, and people who wanted to be considerate in this way instead just made a point of phrasing things more clearly to begin with, I think that would be vastly preferable to even the most well-implemented tone indicator system.

also /pos sucks because there's something deeply and profoundly wrong for an abbreviation that means "I don't mean this as an insult, don't worry" to be spelled the same way as an acronym that's an insult

[keystonepublishing]

Under The Brine by bonesandthebees

Wow, it's really been nearly two months since I posted! Besides the usual life stuff, I also took the plunge and bought Affinity Publisher just so I could control the typeset to a greater finesse than clunky Microsoft Word. And this is my first result of that!

This fic, Under The Brine by @bonesandthebees is one of my favorite Crimeboys fics, and I had so many ideas to try out to visualize the situations and vibes of the plot. As you will see, the result was a mix of established layouts and new experimentation. The cover itself is made using Affinity, printed onto paper to give a papery feel on the hands!

The chapter pages are designed with voluminous double-spread images because I wanted the reader to "fall in" to the story. I want to bring the feel of unnatural uncertainty, fear, and dread into a visual form; if a picture tells a thousand words, the right one can convey the mood of an entire arc. Having the opening paragraphs shifted to the side accentuates the visual feel.

As per usual, I have my layouts for pre-fic notes along with an appendix section for end notes and author comments to curious readers (albeit this time on Tumblr). But I also diverged by adding a playlist, curated by the author for this fic, along with a Spotify code if typing the song names onto YouTube is too much.

With Affinity, I also took the time to lay out the fic's dream sequences. I wanted a complete opposite to a normal page to convey the act of dreaming, and so made the pages all-black. However, the volume of needed black ink did confuse my printer and created a number of paper jams, so I don't think this style is going to be used much.

Additionally, I formatted the phone-text-messaging part of the fic so it actually looks like a text message convo! This was one of the most fiddly parts of typesetting as I had to balance not only the text messages, but the error alert symbol and words as well.

And lastly, I experimented with putting last paragraphs and the ending image together, instead of putting them onto separate pages as per my other binds. I do this because I wanted to visualize the moody feel of the ending... and because I was running out of paper and wanted to save pages.

Full thanks to @bonesandthebees for writing this fic!

[dannymayevent]

Dannymay 2023

Alright, that was fun, but now it's time for the real calendar!

Welcome everyone to Dannymay 2023, aka a long held tradition in May where creatives challenge themselves with a 31 day calendar of fun prompts!

You can draw, write, create music, make a video, craft something cool, really whatever you want! Crossovers and OC's are allowed, so the sky's the limit!

Whether you just wanna do one prompt or all of them, everyone's welcome to join! This is a fun event first and foremost, so go at your own pace. Once you're done with your creation, post it to Tumblr with the #Dannymay2023 tag so we can see it!

We will have an ao3 collection available under Dannymay 2023, and we also have an event Discord link which can be found at the bottom of our faq.

Click under the readmore for a full list as well as the AUs/Challenges descriptions!

Fantasy AU: Bring all your fantastical favorites into DP!

Backpack

Blizzard

Fractals

10 minutes vs 1 hour: Make a fic/art piece in 10 minutes, and then try to make it again in an hour!

Eclipse

Weapon

Electric Core AU: What if instead of having an "ice core," he has an electrical one?

Ghost Zone

Bones

Underwater

Traditional Media: Electronics don't exist! Time to break out the paper, pencils, pens—whatever you got!

Monster

Seance

Full Hazmat AU: In which Danny went into the portal wearing a real hazmat suit.

Fangs

Temper

Grave

No Control Z/Backspace: Try to make a piece without erasing anything!

Nasty Burger

Shatter

Cryptid AU: Phantom's a bit strange, a bit creepier, doesn't quite look/feel right...

Rogue Gallery

NASA

Blame

Art/Fic Switch: Everyone switches mediums for the day! Artists are now writers, writers are now artists! If you do both, go with your weakest. If you're not an artist/writer, then choose one to try!

Rings

Campfire

Ghost Speak AU: Where all ghosts speak the Language Of The Dead

Post-Reveal

Free Day: Congrats, it's the last day! Choose whatever you want to make for the day!

[writingquestionsanswered]

I have been reading all your useful tips for writing here on tumblr I just want to say thank you, I do have a question how to really work on your story if you’re in deep depression, I have so many ideas in my head but it’s sitting around there for months without me having the energy to write it down, some plot eventually lost to time, I eventually forget it and I honestly mourn all the stories I couldn’t write because my mind and body just don’t want to cooperate 🥲

Getting Story Ideas Down During Depression

Aw, thank you! I'm so glad you're enjoying the blog!

So, if writing is something you struggle with doing when you're depressed or otherwise low on mental and physical energy, one thing you might consider doing instead of writing is getting a pretty notebook (or a nice writing app) and start what I liked to call a "plot bunny journal." This is a place where you can write down your ideas as they come to you, along with any other details you don't want to forget. Since you're not actually writing the story, it's less pressure and takes less energy, but it ensures that you won't lose the ideas just because you're not feeling up to writing them.

Something else that can work here, if even that feels like too much, is to create vision boards for your story ideas. You can do it on Canva, Pinterest, or various vision board apps, or you could even just have a photo folder on your device. Let's say you have an idea for a story about a girl who goes to Tokyo and meets a guy who moved there with his family, and they go on some "Lost in Translation"-style cultural adventure. You can search sites like Pixabay, Pexels, and others for pictures that match this aesthetic. You might even cast the two main characters, and save pictures of Tokyo, some of the places you know they'll go, and some of the things you know they'll do. That can be a fun, low physical and mental energy way of getting ideas down "on paper" without actually writing.

As for actually writing with depression, my post Writing and Depression has some suggestions. ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

Pinned FAQ

How do I request a card?

You can request up to 3 cards for free during openaskbox events! During those, the /ask inbox opens up for a few hours, during which I try to write as many as I can live on twitch and post them on tumblr.

After the event is over and I close that inbox, there are still a BUNCH of leftover requests. This is how I fill the daily content queue, I use those up til it's empty again and then run another openaskbox.

On Sundays at 3pm EST I write all 28 cards due to go up for the week from that pool of leftover asks live on twitch and then queue them to go up after stream

What if I don't wanna wait?

If you'd like to throw a bit of cash around instead of waiting, you can buy via the etsy listing or you can tune in to those^ Saturday livestreams, there's a variety of ways to donate to get cards written for you on the spot

How do I buy the card I've requested?

The etsy listing is available here! Please remember to include in the notes of the purchase which card(s) you want to buy. If you'd like me to bundle together all the cards you've requested over a period of a few years, dm me here on the blog and I can quote you on a cheaper bundle price

Why did you answer all those asks, it messed up my dash?

Sorry about that! So to keep all of that ^ organized, at the end of the month, I answer about 112-140 leftover asks in order to record them to a proper "to-write document"

It helps me keep organized, it allows me to easily search for spelling issues, and it gets a few eyeballs on the request in case someone tries to slip an obscure slur into their request that I'm not cool with writing (it has happened)

Lots of the regulars are used to this dash nonsense, but there are folks who want to avoid it entirely. If you're on mobile I'd just recommend unfollowing for a while, but if you're on desktop, you can blacklist the tag "added to notepad" and go to xkit to tick the "fully hide blocked tags" option so it clears up your dash

Wait I thought requests were closed, why can I still send things?

That's because requests use /ask, but /submit is always open because it's for YOUR calligraphy, pet photos, fanart of man... etc. Requests are NOT open when it's not openaskbox day but feel free to send me cool shit YOU made anytime

Wait you have a twitch, do you do anything other than calligraphy?

I try! my schedule at work (restaurant) varies week to week so I try my best to stream whenever I've got free time to, nothing's really planned out though

What are your regular writing tools and paper?

I mainly just use speedball nibs, specifically the c-series (c-0 through c-4) because they're angled flat nibs that let me do most blackletter hands I write. I have a supply of leonardt thin tips for detailing and illustrating

As for paper, the cards you see on the daily are on plain index cue cards I buy from staples. When commissioned/doing larger pieces, I work with a variety of paper, including a 32 lb xerox paper that has juuuust a perfect amount of lamination that avoids ink feathering, black paper that I bought a hundred sheets of in 2019 and I no longer remember the label, and a BOATLOAD of southworth's ivory parchment paper at both 32 and 64 lb weights.

[everpresence]

why read books about the law + book recommendations

hello, gentle soul!

if this is your first time coming across this blog, i just want to say hi, i'm jas, and the purpose of @everpresence is to post teachings from renowned teachers of the law. this will range from ancient teachings to modern new thought leaders.

every once in a while, though, i will be making a post where i talk about my own personal experiences with the law. that'll start in a few weeks, though. i am going to be on vacation soon to a country i've been wanting to go to my whole life LOL! it's still unreal how the bridge of incidents leading up to it went, but nonetheless, i am SOOO grateful that i am going to be experiencing it for the first time.

anyways, for my first official post, i want to talk about reading books!

books! why should i read books?

while it undeniably is fun and girly-pop to read such beautiful and aesthetically pleasing posts about how easy the law is, i personally feel that it is best that we learn from source material.

when you learn from source, you start to gain a foundational understanding of the law and how it not only can be applied to your life, but how it is always shaping your life experiences regardless of whether you are using it consciously or not.

let's say that you're in college and you are assigned to write an academic paper. if you want to learn something and you want to understand it on an academic level, which would you want to go to first: social media or the books?

i'm not going to say outright that social media is not a reliable source. we have learned a lot from social media, especially during the pandemic. and i get why it can feel much easier to consume information in bite-sized videos or text posts. unfortunately, though, social media also happens to be a source of limiting beliefs and blatant misinformation about the law.

we take what we choose to believe to be true from social media. we choose to believe that we have to "take action" in order to get what we want. we choose to believe that we have to "spam affirmations" even when we don't feel like it.

we are choosing to accept beliefs from social media that are actually hurting us rather than helping us hone our innate ability to consciously choose the life we want to live and evolve.

but once you sit down and read the books, you'll start to learn just how simple the law really is. trust me.

i used to go through many reddit posts, youtube videos, tumblr posts, but it only made me feel more lost on what i'm supposed to be learning and doing. it is only when i sat down and actually started reading the books that i started really understanding how the law works.

and i give a lot of credit to the books for my successes hehe

reading books is not boring!

i also want to talk about a common belief surrounding reading books, and this is actually a perfect opportunity to touch on how the law works through this format. how exciting!

so if you say to yourself the following:

"reading is boring"

"reading books is a waste of time"

"i'm not going to get anything out of reading"

you are basically accepting this belief that is being translated to—for example—that feeling of dreadfulness or laziness when you are told that you have to read a book.

does that make sense?

your mental attitude surrounding the topic of reading books is what is currently being reflected as you are reading this post. and you should accept it for what it is, but you must also see that it can also (and thankfully) be changed. it's not a concrete fact that's true for everyone, but an idea that some people have agreed to believe in.

instead of choosing to believe that reading is boring, you can choose to believe that reading is fun and fruitful.

instead of choosing to believe that it's hard to understand a book, you can choose to believe that reading is easy.

and when you choose to believe that reading benefits you, you'll start to see how these beliefs shape your reality.

this is what's so crazy about the law. even when we are not using it consciously, our beliefs regarding EVERYTHING are always being reflected back to us through our physical reality.

we are always choosing what to believe to be true for us, and NOW is the time to choose beliefs that serve our greater good.

book recommendations

there's no particular order you have to read these books in, but whatever you feel pulled towards, definitely take the leap of faith and give it a read!

all of neville goddard's books -> i mean it when i say all of them because the more you read neville goddard's works, the more you understand that your life is a result of you using the law, whether consciously or unconsciously, and that you absolutely do have the ability change your life by changing your conceptions about yourself. his books are a great introduction for those who are starting to learn about the law. if i were to choose a book, though, it would have to be The Power of Awareness. for those who are completely new to the law, though, i recommend reading At Your Command and Feeling is the Secret.

Seth Speaks by Jane Roberts -> i want to preface this by saying that seth is a channeled entity. it honestly was weird for me first when i first found out about him, but through my own personal experiences, i saw how his teachings are not only phenomenal, but also true. before reading The Nature of Personal Reality, i feel like people would get a better understanding of what seth is talking about by reading Seth Speaks first. it's foundational knowledge about how consciousness is the only reality. there are also some interesting topics worth reading about such as near death experiences, how much sleep you should be getting, "coordinate points" (though you don't have to subscribe to such beliefs), etc.

The Nature of Personal Reality by Jane Roberts -> i cannot emphasize enough how much this book has changed the way i view my thoughts and my emotions. i used to demonize the CRAP out of them until i read this book, and it has allowed me to be able to process them without critically judging myself. besides that, the ideas in this book go hand-in-hand with neville goddard's teachings and even expands on them. it is genuinely so groundbreaking, and every time i reread this book, i always end up learning something new. there are also some neat exercises in there about how to change your beliefs.

The Power of Your Subconscious Mind by Joseph Murphy -> joseph murphy and neville goddard have both been taught by abdullah. i like how this book is straightforward and addresses certain topics like money, relationships, science, etc. he is mainly an affirmations girly.

[kozumesphone]

✮⋆˙ 𝐅𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇. 𝐈𝐈

⤷ hq boys x any!reader . . . pt. 2

masterlist

part 1 part 2

⊹ ࣪ ˖ fandom | haikyū!!

✧˖°. includes | shoyou hinata x reader headcannons, overall cuteness, fluff, established relationship, basically just hinata and reader having a happy week <3

⊹ ࣪ ˖ key | y/n: your name

✧˖°. in which | cutie patootie hinata is guaranteed a minute of volleyball with reader for every question he gets right, hinata being taught english by reader.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ a/n | my fav cutie baby of hq!!!! i’ve been so unmotivated this month, but mori’s tsukki hcs got to me, and now i’m writing for a bit again <33 everyone, say thanks to mori! and!! tysm to mori for helping me out with this fic + giving me most of the ideas I included <3

“sho, come on! it’s easy to understand if you really want to.”

he keeps grumbling about it, as you try and teach him.

“easy for you to say, your volleyball future isn’t depending on one test,” he frowns.

you chuckle, and give him a kiss on his cheek.

he usually settles down for a maximum of five minutes, before getting up to stretch or walk around. attention span? he’s never heard of those words before.

you randomly catch him staring at you, when you’re trying to teach him something.

“okay, what’s the answer to 9 then, since you’ve been paying so much attention?”

he snaps out of his reverie and scratches his head and squints his eyes at the paper, concentrating hard on the question.

“Is it ‘I would like some water?’”

and the second you tell him he answered a question correct, he slowly begins drifting off topic.

“mm, you know how they had no water in the hunger games? must’ve been hard.”

and then he yaps about the hunger games books for the next two hours, and you let him.

no matter how much you talk, he definitely does still study and loves that you’re there to encourage him and keep him on track!

he knows you, and he knows that you’re always going to be there to help him.

you promise him that for every question he gets right (which he makes a note of, by the way), he’ll earn a minute of volleyball-playing with you.

you’re a very good setter, but since there’s no girls club for volleyball, you don’t play at school.

a few days later, he gets a B on his english test!

he runs to your class during the next break (which is right beside his), and as you’re walking out, he tackles you with a hug.

“I got a B!”

“baby, that’s amazing!”

and to celebrate, you go to ukai’s shop to buy some of your favourite snacks. you head over to one of your houses and binge watch cheesy romcoms of both of your choices, and finish up all your snacks and drinks.

you end the night with cuddles on the couch, obviously <3

✰ hq taglist | @anyas-shitposting69 @serendipitous-girl @iheartgirlzn @fizzywashere87

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XXIV. “natural curiosity”

parts: previous / next

plot: under extreme pressure to perform, you prepare for your first and final interview with Bruce Wayne. Batman learns intriguing info on the gruesome murder of John Doe.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, mental illness, anxiety

words: 3.2k

a/n: this brings me to the end of my back-posting! we are now up to date across tumblr, ao3, and wattpad 🥳 excited to keep writing more soooon 👀

Was this some kind of cruel punishment?

If it hadn't been for Dr. Vry's unfortunately logical and desperate plea, you wouldn't have said yes—now you were left flying back for half a week. With enrollment for freshmen starting the first day of September, you had to have this in to Bridgit the morning after meeting with him. Thinking of all the belongings you'd just bought for the apartment you thought you'd be living in, you decided against a flight and booked a U-haul for that weekend instead. You'd see if Mar wanted to drive back with you in it, and if not you'd buckle down and do it yourself.

Your parents came back not an hour later. After a few minutes of hugs and chitchat they put themselves to bed, exhausted. Your mom didn't appear critically ill or markedly different in any way (besides a darker tan), so you let yourself relax for the evening out on the couch. A rerun was on the television, the air was stale, and the setting sun stabbed your eyes. You grappled with feelings of guilt as the minutes turned into hours of nothing. You loved them, but was this all you had to look forward to?

Bruce busied himself with monotonous tasks the rest of the day. The panic attack had wiped him out physically, but his mind was wired. A still-relevant yet menial task he felt he could get into a rhythm with involved stealing the giant stack of newspapers Alfred kept by his fireplace in his office for kindling. He flipped through pages and pages of decades-old Gazette publishings, refusing to indulge his curiosity as he passed the months directly preceding or proceeding his parent's murder. It felt like an impossible feat as he discarded them to his left, forcing his eyes to remain tethered to the current moment. Eventually he found clippings from the past few years, and he nestled into the corner chair to pore over their contents. Why was the Gazette failing? Why was the journalism department going to shut down? He distinctly remembered his parents reading the Gazette together every Sunday before church. On the walk to church, he remembered people sitting on park benches reading it. He only paid attention to the comic strip curated by the art majors, but even as a young kid he knew the paper was influential.

As he skimmed through the recent few years of publishing he couldn't discern why sales were lower. It was putting out relevant information that was decent to read... He stood up and walked down the hall to Alfred's room, and found him buttoning his cuffs. "Master Wayne, what's wrong?"

Bruce shook his head. "You read the Gazette, right? Do you know how many people read it?"

Alfred finished the last button and shook out his sleeves to straighten them. He shrugged. "I don't know precisely, but in concept it seems to be doing rather well. On my grocery trips I see lots of people reading it."

Bruce nodded and made some small talk for a moment about dinner ("I've been craving some sausage and cabbage soup, would you mind that, boy?") before making his way back to Alfred's office. He logged onto the computer and looked up sales for the Gazette. While there had been a decline, it had been slow and not enough to completely shut down a department. After looking into Gotham's budget, he realized there was enough budget and in fact, the majority of the Gotham finances were allocated between GCPD and GU. Looking into the school attendance rate there was still a good amount of students applying to the university; less people going into journalism, sure, but still enough to warrant continuing the major. Was Vry a particularly attentive and anxious president, or was it manipulation to get him to agree to be interviewed?

Alfred forced him away by physically walking upstairs to bring Bruce down, and they ate the soup in silence. It was warm, and soothed him enough to take the edge off his guttural sense of impending doom.

The next day he got a call from Gordon. A quick change into the suit and a back exit getaway later, Bruce found himself at the police station. The guards stiffened their spines and glared at him as he walked up; usually it didn't bother him, but after being discovered he felt every eye on him was an x-ray. He walked down a dingy, slim hallway to Gordon's office and knocked on the door. Gordon invited him in, appearing visibly stressed. "In the office on a Saturday?"

"Hey. I don't know what to tell you, but the results came in inconclusive."

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "No idea what the metal is?"

"That's not exactly the problem." He reached into the desk and pulled out a plastic EVIDENCE bag smattered with pokes from the sharp metal inside. It landed on the table with a sharp rap. "We know what it is, but we are lost as to its function."

Bruce swirled the bag so the shrapnel tilted and moved about its cage. Gordon continued. "We brought in a few dentists, even one doctor, to clarify why this might be used as a filling but no one had heard of it before." He quickly continued. "Well, one guy did. Said he used to be a chemist. He'd heard of the metal, but said it was bordering on corrosive. He couldn't make head nor tail of why it would be used in a man's mouth."

"What is it?"

"The man said 'Electrum'. I made him repeat it because it sounded made up." Gordon rolled his eyes and bit his lip, lost in thought. His tone was biting. "I just want to find these punks. Can't have someone causing crime scenes like that running loose."

He'd never heard of Electrum. He opened his mouth to speak but Gordon continued again. He's talkative today. "The man said its properties are that of a 'spark to light up the wire'. Something about conductivity. I think it's just some man who got an under-the-table dental. Probably cracked open a soda can and peeled off a clip to tuck into his gums." By the end he was mumbling, and quickly stood up.

"They were certain it's Electrum?"

Gordon nodded. "He said it was clear. Bet his life on it." And with that he left, motioning to be followed out.

Electrum. Nothing could be found on the web about it. Alfred didn't know, and there had never been a mention about it in any newspaper since 1800 (any further back he couldn't find). By this point he was exhausted, and hadn't even realized he'd pulled a whole weekend staying wide awake. He physically pored over every newspaper article himself pre-1900, his smart engine struggling and misreading the small, fuzzied print. There was nothing that could even be vaguely related to Electrum. Fuck. He dragged his feet up to bed and crashed early Sunday evening.

Had it really only been a strange, foreign filling? Usually this would be his favorite type of thing to sleuth out, something no one could find but he could; he would read the small print from an article in 1806 and solve the mystery, following its crumb trail to an ultimate victory. It was the perfect catharsis, but he was too in his head. All Monday afternoon he twiddled his thumbs and waited for evening, but when evening came he couldn't bring himself to put on his suit. That one scrap metal felt like it was lodged in his tooth, giving him an emotional toothache. He slipped into bed and laid on his back with his arms behind his head. He gazed up at the ceiling, drawing a mental map of the situation. The John Doe couldn't be traced back. Dentist, former chemist, clarified it was Electrum. Electrum can't be found anywhere. No trace of it. Testing was inconclusive. Bordering on corrosive. Man was stabbed repeatedly and hung by the blades. Owls were etched into hilt. Owls were etched into pins and rings of the Gotham University president... Bruce squinted. How could he gain more information on Dr. Vry? His first thought was a Batman interrogation, second idea stalking her in his car for a week to see what she was up to. Both options, especially the latter, caused an internal cringe. Much like he couldn't shake his suspicion about Electrum, he couldn't shake the thought you embedded in him that he was too invasive.

Being invasive to criminals isn't bad. Often, it's the only way to catch them. Your voice came into his mind. And you're assuming she's a criminal. What happened to probable cause?

Her jewelry insignias perfectly match those on the weapon in an unsolved murder.

Perfectly, huh?

Almost.

Almost, yeah.

Even imaginary you mocked him. He continued having a conversation with himself until Alfred knocked on his door. He bristled and sat upright in bed. The old man leaned against the doorframe and gazed at him, spectacled. "Wanted to check in. Social battery ran out, I assume?"

Bruce stared down at his sheets. "Unsolved murder. Can't find any clues."

"Peculiar. Not much stumps you these days."

He struggled not to receive it sarcastically given how vigilant Alfred had been about his mental wellbeing the past few months. He hoped this wasn't another request for him to meet with his therapist, but his hopes were quickly dashed. "I called New Discoveries, they have a few openings this week and next."

Bruce bit back a retort. "If I ever need her, I'll give her a call."

"Bruce,"

"Stop, please. I've got enough to deal with right now."

He leaned in and raised his eyebrows at the boy. "Your analyst could help with that."

"I don't need someone to tell me my parents died."

Alfred heaved a deep sigh. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm not talking about this." This was the push he needed to get out and into his suit. He jumped out of bed and strode firmly past him, ignoring Alfred's calls to get him to 'just make a phone call'. He was surprisingly swift getting into the suit and out on the town. Guilt plagued him at abandoning Alfred, but this was about the tenth time they'd had that conversation since June and it was making him ill. He wouldn't mind seeing his therapist again, he'd liked going after the murder, but he didn't think he could handle being forced to reckon with his mortality at this point in his progression. He still wasn't sure it existed, and until he tied up all the loose ends about the owls, or his symptoms got significantly worse, he was going to ride this last high as long as it let him.

The next few days with your parents went smoothly. It was almost like before your mom had gotten sick, plus Walter. Walter was ecstatic to see your parents back, and you no longer sobbed in the shower out of lonely desperation. You were able to distract effectively through various arts and crafts with your mom, and by the time you were starting to need 'me' time she would tire. You spent some time with your dad fixing the back deck and pulling some weeds out of the raised flower beds. You tended to the pumpkins your parents had planted in June, and harvested some bell peppers and blueberries.

You avoided thinking about Gotham until you were in Gotham; you hadn't even mentioned to your parents you'd been fired/quit, and figured they'd know when a U-Haul ended up at their house with you and Mar inside. The quiet neighborhood was relaxing when your family was around, but that desperate feeling of loneliness was pinned to your chest. The town felt more desolate after being in the city, the quiet felt heavier when they were gone, and knowing how fragile her health was you figured you'd spend more of your life without her than with her. The combination threatened to consume you, and you spent every lull in conversation and every night lying in bed unable to sleep from worry about finding your purpose in life. What interested you? What motivated you? What were your values? How could all of the above be translated into a livable life?

Where did you belong? Did you belong here, in the sleepy town with wide open skies? Did you belong in a city with skyscrapers and sardine-squishing sidewalks? You liked the access the city afforded you. When you'd first moved there, you'd been enthralled by the hundreds of restaurants and stores within a mile's radius. You'd maxed out a small credit card being silly and young, trying cuisines you'd never even heard of. You found cute themed shops that were abhorrently overpriced but nonetheless aesthetically pleasing to visit. But the city moved so fast, and just in time for you to settle into a routine with a favorite restaurant they'd be closing shop. It was cutthroat and intimidating, and you felt softer. Too soft. Life here was too slow as to be entirely, aggravatingly boring. There were only a handful of restaurants in town and they were all dying fast food chains strung out amongst various struggling mom and pop shops that wouldn't dare invite in a health inspector. But the nature was beautiful, and sometimes you loved the quiet breeze of it all. You had no friends besides Mar who you could never see leaving the city, a degree that was worthless in the current economy, and your extended family lived in south Florida for some unknown reason. You only saw them once a year at a family reunion that was usually in July, but had been postponed to Christmas. Ugh.

On Monday you set off for Gotham. You'd arrived on time a few days earlier to ensure you could properly pack your stuff. Day one was filled with throwing out the perishable groceries and giving yourself a moment to breathe outside of your childhood home. The food tasted bland, your favorite shows had lost their spark, and your bed was lumpy and hard. The floors were cement and made your feet ache with every slapping step. The water took ages to heat up compared to home, and you kept watching your step for Walter who never showed. The flight had been frustrating. Your head pounded. You felt like screaming into an empty field, creating a dust storm from pounding your hands into the dirt until you were bruised.

Day two after arriving back to Gotham, you sat down at your small desk in the corner to think up some questions. It was impossible to focus, but you kept yourself to task by repeating you'd be out of here permanently, genuinely, so, so soon. As you stared at the blank page, anxiety sprouted. It hadn't before occurred to you that everyone would be reading this; in fact, everyone would likely be seeking this out so much it would be translated to different languages hours after being published. For a moment you couldn't wrap your head around why this time felt so much more high-stakes, and then you remembered the fate of an entire university department rested on how marketable and quality this interview was... and remembered how obscenely rich and powerful the subject was. You twiddled your fingers just slightly above the keyboard, nervous to even begin to dive into it.

The first thing you did was peruse Scypher, especially their forum sections.

SEARCH: Bruce Wayne

SEARCH: Mr. Wayne

SEARCH: Bruce

SEARCH: billionaire

SEARCH: Gotham

SEARCH: Gotham City

SEARCH: Gotham and Bruce

SEARCH: Gotham and Bruce Wayne

You sifted through hundreds—if not thousands—of posts thirsting after him. There were pap photos, one-shots written daydreaming about him, some tweets hating on how rich he was (you liked those), but the vast majority were simply pining after him in a public arena. You got a small sense of what people wanted to see from him, but not enough to create a substantial question.

You went onto Google and searched the same things. A handful of articles from major news outlets were titled similarly: What We Know About Bruce Wayne, the Orphaned Billionaire. People generally knew about the circumstances of his parent's murder, that he lived at home with his maids and butlers (was there more than one Alfred?) and everything that he'd announced at Gotham University graduation. There was logistical data on his Wikipedia page such as his height, birth date, current age, and where he went to school growing up. Information for the past decade was slim, the only bits being where he attended college, his date of graduation, and his major. It appeared the only times since his parent's death he peeked out into the public eye were school-related.

No one knew anything about his personal life, and you worked yourself into a tizzy brainstorming ways to persuade him into talking about himself. Where was the line between too benign of a question and too invasive of one? What was relevant information to someone high-profile's first interview? You'd spent hours digging into the first interviews of now-major celebrities, but they all happened before they rocketed into fame. This was different: he was born famous, and now at age 30 he was finally speaking to someone. After a certain point in your research you feared you would need to be the blueprint for this kind of thing; even nepo babies had been interviewed as children, asked questions such as their favorite musicians, movies, books, and colors. How did you show the public he was normal, personable, even? Did you even want to make him appear normal, because he didn't seem it. He was an enigma. Someone you couldn't quite peg.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. What's my goal with this? No one else's, mine? What do I want to learn about him? What are my natural curiosities? This led to an immediate rush of creative energy, questions popping up left and right; you didn't care about how invasive or off-kilter they might seem. After the brainstorming, you gathered the questions into three categories: COMFORTABLE - DEEPER - DANGEROUS.

The first contained questions that were more basic, and likely wouldn't elicit an emotional response in any way to the interviewee. The second probed a bit more, considered more thorough and juicy. At this point an interviewee might be more choosy with their phrasing, or pause to think about it. The final category was fully questions of your own mind, questions you didn't think you'd ever ask but wanted to be put to paper. These were so juicy as to be intimate, so personal as to be disorienting.

When else would a woman have the leverage to ask such a dizzyingly powerful man anything she wanted?

[darnell-la]

Hi love your work can u do a billy hargrove bully smut with innocent reader please. Hope ur well xxx

Hey, I’m sorry that I’m 2 weeks late. I’ll have to be better at post within the week when I get a request. This is the best I could do at 2am so if this isn’t good enough, please contact me what you guys specifically want. Thank you for the support and request. I love you guys!! Bully Billy and Inncoect reader is something I love writing and reading about and now I can finally post :))

As always, instead of y/n I’ll be using Scotlynn who is one of the owners of this Tumblr account.

word count: 4.3k

Bully!Billy Hargrove x innocent!reader

————————————————————————

SCOTLYNS POV

Today's another day. Another day of hell. Another day of being bullied and another day of having to interact with Billy. The bullying has gotten so bad that I've begged my principal to change my classes. Of course, he denied me.

I'm currently walking through the doors to my first class, hoping like any other day that Billy would be sick and not be in class today but that's not going to happen. It never does. He's already smirking at me from his seat that's right next to mine.

"Fuck," I cussed under my breath as I held my books close to my chest and walked through the group of jocks that are standing in my way like usual. I swear they do this on purpose to get under my skin.

"Wassup Scotlyn," Max, my ex said as I stood in front of him and his friends. "Could you guys please move for the thousandth time?" I annoyingly asked. "Yeah, of course, sweety," he said like he use to say when we were dating.

I rolled my eyes and walked through the group, about to sit down at my desk until I felt big hands grab one of my ass cheeks, causing me to yelp as I turned around, swatting at his arm.

"Max!" I yelled at him, feeling embarrassed and violated. I have my mini skirt on today so he basically gripped my bare ass, allowing people who looked to see my bare ass cheek. He's sick.

"What baby? I'm just having a little fun. You know, just like old times," Max said as he pulled me into him by my waist. I tried pushing him off of me but at the same time, I didn't want to hurt him.

"Don't fight me, baby," he whispered in my ear. I begged him to stop making a full of me until someone pulled him off and punched him directly in his face. Billy. Billy Hargrove.

"You annoy me. Go sit down," Billy looked down at Max before going back to his seat to sit down. Everyone in the class looked at me like I knew what that was about. I can't seem to know myself. Why would he defend me?

I slowly sat down at my desk and got situated for class. "Got my work, Mrs perfect?" Billy asked. I softly sighed as I opened my notebook and pulled out his paper. "Yes," I said before giving it to him.

"What's with the attitude? I just helped you out," Billy said as he slightly turned towards me. "I didn't ask for it," I said, hoping he'd just get the clue that I don't want to talk to him. I never do.

"I don't know where that bitchy attitude came from but you better fucking drop it," Billy said, sounding angry already. "Whatever," I said under my breath and quickly regretted it.

Billy had gotten up and grabbed my wrist. He pulled me out of my seat and out of the class as the students watched. The class doesn't start for maybe 10 minutes and the teacher is always late.

"Billy, hey! Billy! Billy, what the fuck!" I said as he basically dragged me down the halls. "Billy, let me go! Stop it!" I yelled at him. That's when he stopped, grabbed my neck, and pushed me into the lockers.

"Shut it! Shut your fucking mouth!" Billy pushed me into the lockers a few times until I finally shit my mouth. "Who the fuck do you think you are, huh? You have balls now?" Billy asked, waiting for me to answer.

"It won't go well for you if you're trying to stand up to me. I'll fucking ruin you, do you understand?" Billy asked as he choked my neck harder, causing some tears to build up in my eyes.

"Use your words, princess. You don't wanna make me mad, right?" He asked. I shook my head. "Words!" He yelled in my face. "No!" I cried out as he chuckled with a smirk.

"Good girl. Do you know how cute you are when you're obedient? Maybe if you lost that potty mouth of yours, I'd treat you better. Want me to treat you better?" Billy asked as he leaned into my face.

"Want me to stop bullying you? Stop me from making a full of yourself so you can walk around school all happy?" He asked, now inches away from my ear.

"Maybe I'll do that, but only if you act right, baby," he whispered before pulling back so that he was inches away from my face now. "You gonna act right for me, baby?" He asked, completely catching me off guard.

I was so focused on the way he was talking to me and what he was saying that I didn't even notice him pressing up against me. I can even feel him through his pants.

"Yes," I said, feeling like I was in a trance. Billy chuckled as he backed up. Fuck. I can't believe I just put myself in that stupid situation. He's definitely going to use that against me for the rest of my school life.

"You're confused, aren't you?" Billy asked. I nodded my head, yes, instead of seeing his face change. "Y-Yes," I responded how he likes it. God, what's wrong with me?

"Come here," he said, but I stayed frozen. "Now!" He growled slightly. I quickly pushed off of the lockers and walked towards me, stopping right in front of his face.

I was confused, thinking he'd make fun of me, tell me to do his work, or maybe push me around but to my surprise, he grabbed my face softly with both of his hands and started kissing me.

I quickly melted into the kiss, taking in this moment that probably won't ever happen again. Billy slowly moved one hand down my body until he harshly but softly gripped my ass cheek that Max grabbed earlier.

"All mine," Billy said in between the kiss. I whined at how sensitive my body was getting from his touch. From Billy Hargrove's touch. I never thought of anything like this with him but I can't seem to not want it.

Billy slowly pulled away, causing me to whine and try to pull him into me to get more but he "Ah uh," me ask he slowly pushed me back. I whined, angry that his lips weren't on me, only making him chuckle.

"You were bad to me within 2 minutes. You don't get what you want right now," Billy said as he looked down at my lips before looking into my eyes.

"Your lips are calling me though," he said, making me feel butterflies. "Ever kissed anyone as you kissed me, baby?" He asked. "I- No. Yes, but like, no," I stuttered, making a full of myself.

"What's his name?" Billy asked. His face changed faster than he could blink. "I-I don't think u should say. He's kind uh- He was kind of in a relationship," I stuttered.

"So you're a slut? A home wrecker?" He asked as he shook his head like he was disgusted. "No! No, he just pushed me into a bathroom and tried making out with me. I stopped him though," I said.

"Hmm. He'll pay for that. Anyone else sweetheart?" He asked. I stayed silent, not wanting to tell him their names because now I know he'll probably beat Jason for kissing me without my consent.

"Tell me and don't lie because if I find out, I'll ruin you," Billy said, inches away from my face, once again. "I-I can't say, Billy. I don't want to," I said, scared to tell him that.

My heart grew faster with every second of silence. He's just staring at me. I feel like I'm shrinking and he's getting bigger. He's already so much taller than me.

"Get to class," Billy demanded in a voice so different from this whole conversation. He switched up so fast. I quickly sprinted back to class, not wanting to stay in his face and make him rethink letting me leave.

"What!? No, please. You know me and he do not get along," I begged the teacher as he assigned people to work together every weekend on our projects that were due by the end of the year which is months away.

"And that's why you guys will be perfect partners. This assignment is about getting along and having fun during your senior year. You guys will do great," he said then went back to assigning other people.

"Fuck," I said under my breath as I placed my face into my hands. "What's up with you?" Billy asked. I can hear the smirk on his handsome devilish face. I hate him.

"Don't. Please, not right now," I said, keeping my face in my hands. "Why not?" He asked as he moved his chair closer to me. "Billy, please," I said under my breath to keep myself calm.

"Come on. Don't have this bitchy attitude when I'm over tonight," Billy said, making me pop my head up and look up at him. "You're not coming over to my house, Billy. We're not going this," I said.

"Oh yes, we are. Your parents aren't even home tonight so why are you scared?" Billy asked. "What the- How the fuck do you know my parents aren't home tonight?" I asked him, confused and a bit worried.

"Heard you talking to your little girlfriends in the hallway," he said. "Why are you staking me, man," I said. "Stalking? That's funny," he said as he relaxed in his chair which is still close to me.

"What time are you coming?" I asked in the saddest way I could possibly ask. "I'll be there when I'll be there. You just focus on getting into something cute for me," he said with a chuckle.

"Not gonna happen," I said as I rolled my eyes. "Oh really?" He asked as he turned his whole body forward to me and leaned in my face. "Can you back the fuck-" I tried saying but he cut me off by gripping my wrist.

"Don't start that attitude shit with me. Don't cuss at me and don't you fucking roll your eyes at me again. Yeah, I saw it. Watch yourself," Billy seemed angry but of course, I couldn't care less. He shouldn't put his hands on me like he does.

"Billy, let me go," I said as I liked him in his eyes to seem intimidating but I'm not. Not one bit and he definitely knows that. I hate that he knows that because he knows how far he can get with me.

"You didn't want me letting your pretty little face go when my tongue was down your throat," Billy smirked. "Oh my god, Billy," I went to pull away but he didn't let go.

"You know, maybe you're acting like this because you're scared. You a virgin, baby?" Billy asked, causing my heart to skip a beat. He can't know that. He'll definitely make fun of me for it.

"No," I took a while to reply back. "You sure, princess?" He asked as his free hand tracked up my mini skirt. I stood still because that's what a non-virgin would do right? They'd let whatever happen like it's normal right?

"Yes, I'm sure so can you stop fucking touching me you perv," I said and not even a second later, his hand around my wrist was around my neck. How are people not seeing this? How is the teacher not looking up from his computer right now?

"Don't you ever call me a fucking perv, do you understand me?" He asked but I didn't respond. I tried unwrapping his fingers but he was too strong. How is he this strong?

"Do you!?" He growled in my face. "Y-Yes," I stuttered, scared that he'd snap my neck if I didn't reply. "You really think I'm a perv? Me kissing you wasn't pervy, but you know what would be?" He asked me with a slight chuckle like he loved the idea in his head.

"If I'd cum in your pretty little spare panties you have in your locker so you'd walk around with a gift. Now that would be pervy," he said, inches away from my face. How does he know I have spare panties in my locker? Those are for the gym.

"But you'd like that, right? Since you're not a virgin and all," he sarcastically said. Fuck, he definitely knows I'm a virgin. "Billy, please let me go," I said low, not wanting to talk to him anymore. Billy looked into my eyes for a while longer with a slight smile on his face before letting me go and paying his attention to whatever video was playing for the class that no one is paying attention to.

SKIP LATER THAT NIGHT

It's currently 10 pm and I'm in my room, watching a movie and happy that Billy didn't show up today. He probably went to the party that his friends planned to have today and I was praying for him to go to.

After what helped in class and in the hallways today, I don't think I can be with him alone. I've never let a boy get this close to me like I let Billy do.

Kissing me with my full consent, letting him touch me close to my core. Not call him out for looking into my locker at my panties. Letting him grab my neck, wrist it waist.

For some reason, when he does it, I don't feel as uncomfortable as I think I'd be. With anyone else, I'd scream or punch them but Billy... When I push him away, I'm not even using much energy.

*doorbell rings*

I jumped at the sound of my doorbell going off which rarely happens. I don't have many friends and usually, they text me if they plan on coming over to my house.

I slowly got up, praying to God that this isn't Billy. It's too late for this. I walked downstairs as my heart began to beat faster than before. Apart from me doesn't want him to hear but a big part of me is slightly happy he is.

"Who is it!?" I shouted only to get someone chuckling back. Fuck. It is him. I sighed as I slowly u locked my door and then opened it. "You lock your doors, good. At least I know you're smart and responsible," he said before passing me.

Billy kicked off his shoes and neatly placed them next to my door where the shoes are supposed to go. He then took his Jean jacket off and hung it on the coat hanger.

"What are you doing here Billy?" I asked, knowing why he was there. "To study. Let's go," he said as he made his way upstairs. "Billy it's late! And I was planning on studying down here," I said as I followed him.

"We'll that's too bad. I'm not a stranger so you can take me into your room. Unless mommy and daddy don't allow boys in your princess room," he said in his annoying baby voice to mock me.

"You're so annoying," I said under my breath as I passed him to go to my room after he stopped because he has no idea where my room was. "You accept quickly. I'll keep that in mind," he said as he followed me into my room.

"Your room is nice," Billy complemented which was totally unexpected. "Uh, thank you," I said with an awkward smile. "Not girly but I wasn't really expecting that from you. You're pretty different," he said.

"It's not a bad thing though! Just saying," he made sure to add. "So where do you want me to sit?" He asked. "We can sit on my bed. The books are there anyways since I was studying a while ago," I said as I turned my TV down a little.

"It's getting boring. Let's play truth or truth," Billy said as he closed his book before taking me and closing it. "Billy! You can't just stop in the middle of studying," I said. "Says who?" He asked before reaching into the bag he brought with him.

"Uh, what is that?" I asked as he pulled out a big unopened bottle. "Ah come on. Don't tell me you're a virgin to everything," he said. "What!? I'm- I'm not a virgin," I said.

"Yeah, sure. Anyways, the game goes like this. We ask each other questions and if you can't answer, you drink and if you can't drink anymore, the person gets to do whatever which is anything," he explained.

"Anything?" I asked. "Yeah. Like take your glasses, take your hat, take your sock, or whatever," he suggested some ideas which don't seem too honest to me. "O-Oh, okay," I said as I got comfortable on my bed.

"You start, princess. Give me what you got," he said. "Oh uh, have you ever snuck out?" I asked. "Yeah," he replied. "Have you?" He asked back. "No, I would never," I said.

"Yo innocent huh?" He asked. "Yeah, I guess," I said in a low tone. "Uh, have you ever snuck anyone into your house?" I asked. "Nah, not yet," he said with an unnecessary smirk. He's up to something.

"Are you a virgin?" He asked, causing my heart to begin beating fast. "I don't want to answer that, Billy and you-" I tried saying. "Then drink," he cut me off.

"But I've never-" I tried saying once again. "Drink," he said in a slightly aggressive tone. I stayed still, hoping he'd just let this go but he didn't. He handed me the bottle.

I sighed as I took it out of his hand slowly, not wanting to drink because I'd never done it before. What if it doesn't taste good and I throw up everywhere?

"Billy," I said, scared to do this. "It's not bad. I promise," he said, waiting for me to try. I took a deep breath as I placed the bottle up to my mouth before tilting my head back to get a small taste but I ended up getting a lot.

I spit some of it out and began to cough as I gave him back the bottle. "Guess I get to do whatever," he said as he closed his bottle and placed it on the side before slightly pushing me down on my back.

"What- What are you doing?" I said as he tugged at my night shorts. "Wait, Billy! Billy, stop, I don't have underwear on. Y-You can take my shirt, at least I have my bra on," I said but he ignored me and forced my shorts down I tried fighting to pull them up but he was too strong.

"I'm not taking your clothing, Scotlyn," Billy said in a tone like I was dumb. Like I wasn't getting something. "T-Then what are you taking?" I asked as he fondled his belt.

"Just stay still and let me do this without you pissing me off," he said as he pulled himself out. "What!? No, Billy! Billy, get off of me," I started pushing at his stomach after he came up closer to me.

"Scotlyn! Scotlyn!" Billy yelled my name louder the second time as he grabbed my wrist and placed them over my head. "Just let me put the tip in and then this will be over, okay? I can do whatever, remember? Remember we agreed to that?" He asked.

I nodded my head as I looked into his eyes with my scared eyes. He can't tell I'm scared. That's why he switched his tone up a little bit to not scare me even more.

"Good girl. I want you to relax and let me in just a little. Just the tip, okay princes?" He asked. I slowly nodded my head as my heart slowed down at how softly he was talking to me.

"That's a good girl," at first I didn't notice he was pushing at my entrance until a little bit of his tip slipped into me. "B-Billy," I stuttered at the unfamiliar filling.

"Shh shh, calm down. I got you. Let me prepare you, okay?" He asked before spitting on his fingers. He's okay rubbed his spit around my entrance, causing me to whine at the area he was touching me.

"Ssh baby, I know. I know it's a different feeling but I'll make you feel fucking awesome," Billy said before pushing the rest of his tip into me. I covered my mouth, hoping I wouldn't let out too much but he seemed to like it. He's looking me in my eyes with a smile.

"You look so beautiful, baby," Billy said as he leaned into me. I wanted his kiss so bad but cried out at the feeling of him pushing his whole length into me. "Billy!" I cried before he placed his lips over mine.

"Ssh Ssh," he said onto my lips as he slowly began to thrust his hips. "Billy billy billy!" I repeated because of the unfamiliar foreign feeling of being stretched out and wet. I've been wet down there before but not this wet. It feels different. It feels good.

"Scotlyn, calm down. You'll be fine," Billy said as he leaned up and grabbed my waist to get a hold to fuck into me a little faster since I was stretched out enough for him. I kept whining and begging him to slow it down but he ignored me. I don't really want him to stop anyways.

"Billy, fuck! Please, slow down, I can't. I can't take it," I cried out as I leaned my head back and slapped at his chest a few times. "P-Please," I whined loudly as this feeling began to fill my stomach.

"God, you're so fucking tight. Been keeping this for me, huh? Kept them dirty jocks away just for me, huh?" He asked as he sped up. "Oh, I know you have. Because you know that if I found out about anyone being in my little girl, I'd fuck you harder than this. Might have even done anal to teach you a lesson," he threatened.

"S-Slow down, please," I begged as I wrapped my hands around his back and scratched at it. "Fuck — Fuck, don't do that baby. Gonna get me close," he said, triggering my mind. I'm not on the pill.

"N-No! Billy, I'm not on the pill," I got to pushing at his stomach and chest again, hoping he'd pull out before it was too late. "Oh don't worry baby. I got your pill with me," he said. He planned this out.

"S-Still, I can't," I said. "Why?" He asked keeping his paste as he looked into my glossy eyes. "I-I just can't, Billy," a few tears rolled down my face as my legs began to shake a little. I really can't hold this knot in my stomach. And I'm going to cum?

"Why can't you, huh? Cause you wanna keep that first time for some other dude at the school? For Jason? For Garret, you've been flirting with, huh?" Billy asked. How does he know about Garret?

"Oh yeah, I know. I know you how around. I'm surprised no one's gotten to you before. I bet you'd like to be a little prey for the school. For the boys to hunt down and use, wouldn't you?" Billy asked but I didn't answer. I don't. I've only had some thoughts of Billy using me like this.

"Wouldn't you!?" He yelled in my face. "No! No, I wouldn't!" I cried out. Billy gripped my neck and tightened his other hand on my waist harder than before as he leaned toward my face.

"You opened your legs so fucking fast for me. You're a little weak whore that I only get to use. I only get to bully. I own you, do you understand me?" He asked and I quickly nodded but slowly.

"Mhmm, and if I find out you're doing anything, even the slightest thing to make people think you're single and not take, I'll fuck your little cunt full of my cum and show them, do you under fucking stand!?" He aggressively asked as my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

"Y-Yes!" I dragged as my legs shook and I began to release all over him and my bed. "Fuck fuck fuck, please, fuck!" I basically screamed. Billy tightened his grip around my neck to watch my screams be taken away from me.

"Fuck, you're so hot. Do you know how good it feels? Fucking your wet little pussy while you cry for me. While you cum all over my dick like you've done this a million times," Billy started praising me.

"Billy," I whined at the overstimulated. "Ima eat your pussy dry after I fill you up, baby, so you better get used to that after the shock of your pathetic little orgasm," he teased. Why does he still have to bully me? And why is it so fucking hot?

"Whining at being degraded? What a sad and silly little thing. You don't know what you got yourself into, baby. I'm going to ruin you and put you all back together because I love you," Billy said as his hand that was on my waist, softly grabbed my face.

"Yeah, I said it. I'm fucking in love with you. It's pretty hard not to see but you're a dumb little whore so it can definitely pass your mind. But it's okay, baby. I love you that way. Innocent and clueless. And also cock drunk," Billy slowly deep stroked into me.

Billy smashed his lips onto mine, probably thinking I'd be too tired to kiss him back but I gathered my energy and joined with a moans following. I never knew I'd be this in love with him. How can he make me fall in love with him like this? He's mean but I'm beginning to love it. I think I've always loved it...

[gourmetofglut]

The Mischaracterization of Ferris: A thread analyzing Re: Zero's most misinterpreted and overlooked character.

Note: This is a re-edit of a thread I wrote on Twitter. I recently decided to start using Tumblr a bit more. Since I've also been wanting to back up most of my threads, I figured I might as well move everything here. This is the first re-edit I'll be posting on this site. It was one of my favorites to write, so I hope it's enjoyable!

Side story spoilers for the entire thread. Arc 8 spoilers in the speculation section (will be marked since so many people aren't caught up).

For novel readers of Re: Zero, Ferris stands as one of the most divisive characters in the fandom. Considering his poor utilization in the anime and his role in the story within Arc 3, it's easy to see why.

On one hand, Ferris is one of the most outwardly aggressive characters toward Subaru in Arc 3. He makes no secret of his disdain from the start and consistently throws jabs at him every opportunity he gets. This behavior can certainly leave a negative first impression.

On the other hand, Ferris is quite a fascinating character who serves an important role within the narrative of Arc 3. He doesn't let Subaru off as easy as everyone else, which is exactly what makes seeing him grow respect for Subaru satisfying.

Whichever opinion you hold, that’s mostly irrelevant today. Instead, I will be simply discussing his character and his role in the story, as well as arguing in favor of many of his merits that people overlook.

Ferris's primary role is similar to all the Royals Candidates' knights: serving as a foil for Subaru. I've explained the similarities between Subaru and the other knights before, but to sum it up as quickly as possible all 3 of them represent a version of what Subaru could be.

Reinhard is a version of what Subaru could've been if he were the typical isekai protagonist, Julius is a lot more complicated but he’s essentially what Subaru could've been if he were granted enough power to face his enemies on even ground, and Al is Subaru if he had been just a bit unlucky in where he had been sent; becoming someone who struggles to care and abuses his powers to the fullest.

Ferris is much the same, though it can be argued he parallels Subaru the hardest, except for maybe Al. The resemblance on paper between the two is uncanny. They are both physically weak men who often don't fit traditional gender roles and have the sole desire of helping a woman they love to achieve her dreams of becoming a Royal Candidate, no matter the personal costs to themselves.

To do this, they use an extraordinary power unique to them (in Subaru's case RB, and in Ferris' case his magic that is relative in power to an authority). Their need to rely on others for victory is a source of immense mental turmoil and often leaves them full of self-loathing.

They place immense value in the lives of others, even those who have or will harm them, to the point that they are willing to be harmed to help them. Seeing others casually disregard the lives of others serves as one of the things that anger them the most.

They are both prone to obsessively possessive behavior and have sometimes even directed it towards the one they love. This often leads to them getting in trouble due to their jealousy.

There are more similarities I could point out, but you get the point.

Where am I going with this though? Ferris is clearly a parallel to Subaru, but what does he represent regarding him? Put simply, I believe Ferris is meant to represent what Subaru could've been if his parents were just a bit different.

Parent and Child is one of the most crucial chapters for informing us about just the kind of person Subaru is. Perhaps the most important piece is how it helps us understand just how much of his current personality is a result of his father. Subaru not only looked up to him but actively mimicked him to achieve his goals. The pressure of the surrounding world caused him to default to trying to be his father instead of who he truly was. Subaru's parents weren't perfect. In fact, they were very flawed people. Regardless of this fact though, they are responsible for many of Subaru's positive traits.

The same is true for Ferris and his shitbag of a father. If you were to ask any novel reader what Ferris' defining trait as a character is, they would probably say anger or bitterness.

This isn't surprising, as that's how he typically acts towards everyone except Crusch and Fourier, even when it comes to friends such as Julius.

I would argue, however, that this is merely an act he defaults to when he is stressed or angry, similar to Subaru's mimicry of his own father.

During his bitter moments, such as his cold statement to Subaru as he leaves Crusch's mansion in Arc 4, Ferris is merely defaulting to what he has learned to be the best method of dealing with his stress...a method that is eerily similar to how Biehn sometimes acts in EX 1.

Whether Ferris acknowledges it or not, his attitude at his worst moments makes him come off like his father. He can be cruel, sometimes even callous. He shows intense rage when he doesn't get his way and attacks the part of his opponent that is most vulnerable.

This attitude can blind him to the point that he can even hypocritically act racist towards Emilia. Ferris' entire life has been defined by discrimination. In the face of someone he should know has faced many of the same issues, he once again acts almost exactly like his own father.

It was in the middle of a mental breakdown, but that does not excuse him just like it does not excuse Subaru.

Speaking of his parents, it's also notable how their inability to connect with Ferris parallels Naoko and Kenichi's struggles with Subaru.

Ferris' dad is a bombastic, loud man who was (once) well-respected and causes many of Ferris's issues through his actions and Ferris' emulation of him. His fatal flaw in the end was that he could not understand Ferris, similar to how Kenichi could not fully understand Subaru.

Ferris' mom, on the other hand, fully understood the distress he was under but did not have the confidence to interfere or make a change as Ferris wasted away, similar to Naoko's inability to help Subaru when he most needed it.

That's not to say Kenichi or Naoko are even a thousandth as bad as either of those two, but their struggles with their child deeply parallel each other.

Back on track though, I want to highlight a bit more of Ferris' parallels with his father using perhaps the most damning example.

This specific scene is from "The Saga of the Great Crusch-sama Begins." When faced with his mother, whom he hates so much, he attempts to stab her in the chest. Crusch gets caught in the crossfire causing Felix to freak out and unlock his water magic to save her.

What can at first be written off as just a unique origin for Ferris' water magic gets recontextualized hard in EX 1, where it's revealed his father killed his mother in the exact same method.

It's such an eerie similarity and something that I feel gets overlooked too often when discussing Ferris.

As shown in scenes like the one above, Ferris often projects this image of hatred, bitterness, and malice. It's easy to write that off as just the kind of person he is as so many often do...

...but there's obviously more to it than this. There is far more to Ferris than his mimicry of his father.

Ferris doesn't allow himself to be vulnerable very often in the story. Only when he is with Fourier and Crusch, as well as when he is in the most intense moments of crisis, does he show who he actually is. Stress is the best test of character after all.

The best example to me? His confrontation with the father he so often emulates.

If Ferris was actually as vindictive as he so often outwardly acts, how would you expect him to react to the death of a man he hated so much?

Wouldn't he taunt him? Wouldn't he make his last moments a living hell? Wouldn't he crow in pleasure at his agony? Would you be able to even blame Ferris if he made Biehn's last moments hell?

You would expect that...but that's not how he reacts. At that moment, watching as the man who tortured him so much dies an awful death, he just shows sadness. He thinks about the possibility that they could've just worked things out. He just wishes that things could be different.

Despite everything his father had done to him, despite all the rage at the world Ferris projects, the moment he is put into a scenario he likely dreamed of he can't help but feel pity that this was the only route he could take. He never wanted to hurt even Biehn of all people.

And this, I believe, is Ferris's actual defining trait underneath his persona of cynicism and bitterness: kindness and a greater love for life than perhaps anyone else in the series.

Ferris's power, as Fourier once said, is the kindest in the world. At his core, Ferris is just as kind as his power.

Think about it. Despite Ferris's words, what is the thing that upsets him most?

People who waste their lives. Whether it be Subaru, Fourier, a random Vollachian guard, or even Witch Cultists...Ferris can't bring himself to watch life be thrown away. It just hurts him, regardless of how horrible the person is.

Just like Subaru, Ferris wants to help everyone, even if it costs him so much. The pain that he feels when he is unable to do so is immeasurable, as Subaru himself states in Volume 8. He is struggling with the same realization as Subaru: saving some people is impossible.

So where will this lead? What does this have to do with the themes of the story? Well, to answer that, I’ll have to take a little diversion to talk about one of the more…difficult topics involving Ferris.

Ferris and his relationship with gender is something that I feel a lot of the fanbase is really fucking weird about. Even ignoring the pretty deep-rooted transphobia in a lot of discussions involving him (he isn't trans, but he is heavily trans-coded and there really shouldn't be so much of an issue in letting people read into that), there's a feverish desire to deny that his status as a person not conforming to gender norms matters at all. All too often, people reduce it to just a fetish or something to make jokes about.

The reason this is such a bafflingly stupid take though is because of how blatant the importance is to anyone who has read EX 1. Even Tappei himself has stated that many of the things he wants to do with Ferris could not be done without this aspect of his character.

Ferris's non-conformance is part of a promise made with Crusch. Ferris took on her femininity while Crusch took on his masculinity. It's a promise between the two that proves their devotion to one another. It's the ultimate symbol of their affection for one another.

In Aganau IF Ferris dresses and acts more masculine, precisely because his connection to Crusch no longer exists.

I'd also argue it's why he continues to dress as he does even when Crusch no longer has her memories, desperately holding onto the literal symbol of the bond between them.

However, unlike Crusch who seems to love who she is both when taking on more masculine and feminine traits, finding a balance between them; Ferris can't do the same. He sees it merely as a means to show his devotion rather than something he does for himself.

He constantly expresses that it is all for Crusch and Crusch alone. If anything he seems to resent his inability to fulfill any kind of masculine role, as shown once again in his conversation with Biehn in EX 1.

When pushed to finally unleash all his true feelings to Biehn, what does he bring up as the main reason for his resentment? His abuse? His coldness? His murder of his mother? Any of the innumerable unforgivable things Biehn has done to him?

No. Ferris points at his body. He anguishes over his skinny arms, his inability to wield a sword, his lack of muscle, and his lack of fighting prowess. He hates his lack of masculine features and how he's unable to live up to his idea of what Crusch's knight should be.

He literally sees his masculinity as something stolen from him by his father; leaving him so empty that he needed something else to fill that void.

Crusch gave him something to fill that void. Crusch gave him a way to live. Crusch filled his soul...but he still resents what he "has" to be.

Now does that mean he resents Crusch? No, of course not. But he does resent that this is the only thing he can do for her; the only person he can be. Deep down, he doesn't seem to want to be the way he is, and instead of trying to change that he gives in to despair.

He's stuck in that hatred, in that desire to meet Crusch's expectations, and in that moment where a starving child begged to be released and was finally brought into the light. In many ways, he acts like a child.

This is quite literally represented in him preventing himself from going through puberty; a symbol in many stories of transitioning from childhood to adulthood. He sees his current form as a shackle whether he realizes it or not.

Now does that mean that Ferris should disregard his femininity entirely? Throwing away the representation of his love for Crusch and something that has defined him for so long seems as self-destructive as staying stuck. What's the solution? Where is his arc going?

Well, before that, I want to cover one last thing before I have to delve into Arc 8 spoilers. There's a bit of a side tangent I want to go on.

With everything I've been able to point out up to here, it's clear that Ferris is a remarkably complex character. There's so much to read into and talk about.

So why is he so hated?

He's so similar to Subaru, possibly the most popular character in the novel fandom. Despite all the claims of him being the worst and me highlighting his character's flaws, he hasn't done anything more morally dubious than the vast majority of characters in this series, even when he was pushed to the edge. This is especially true when compared to some of the most popular characters like Subaru or Roswaal. Hell, characters even more directly belligerent than Ferris like Priscilla don't get half the hate (though Priscilla's perception has...its own issues).

Why does he get disregarded so often? Why is he often treated as shallow fetish fuel? Why is he just reduced to being an asshole in every discussion that involves him?

Well, I have a few I can point out.

The first is, most obviously, misinformation. A large portion of the novel reader base has not read Arcs 1-4 in the LN and has very warped views of some of the characters in that section of the story. Ferris is just the most blatant example.

I can't count the number of times I've heard people just blatantly lie about or exaggerate what Ferris did in Arc 3. From the "mana bomb" that has LITERALLY no basis in the text to the "brainwashing" scene treated as a comedy bit that is exaggerated to hell, people go out of their way to interpret him in the worst light possible.

Many of the people who haven't read those sections then see Ferris's ribbing of Subaru in Arc 5 and then run with those pieces of misinformation; spreading it to the point that many believe some blatant lies to be fact.

The second is simply that a lot of people in the fandom don't read the side stories. I don't particularly blame a lot of these people, as there is a lot to get through, but there are a lot of people who take advantage of this for...certain reasons.

This leads to the third point...shipping. Ferris suffers from "Die for our ship" syndrome (https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DieForOurShip…). A lot of people like Crusch x Subaru and Crusch loves Ferris so that ends up being more than enough for some people to hate him.

That's not representative of even close to every Crusch x Subaru shipper, of course, it's just a notable trend that it's hard to pretend doesn't exist with some of them.

All of these factors often go hand-in-hand with the final factor: the fandom's immense double standards when it comes to certain characters.

I'm not going to go into deep detail with this as it would distract from the main point of the thread...but you know what I mean if you've interacted with the community for a significant period of time. It also doesn't help that many of the same people in this category tend to be incredibly bigoted.

Ferris isn't the only character subjected to these double standards, as characters like Emilia and Ram often face similar purposeful misinterpretations, but his frequently unfair critiques have affected his reputation negatively perhaps more than any other.

This isn't to say that this is all true for everyone who hates Ferris. There are numerous reasons you may just not be interested in his character.

However, I feel it's dishonest to pretend Ferris isn't often targeted far more than other characters for often lacking reasons.

With that out of the way, I can move on to the last thing I wanted to cover in this thread. I have established a lot here, so I want to speculate about the future.

From this point forward there are unmarked Arc 8 spoilers, so...you can't argue I wasn't careful. I don't blame you at all for leaving now and I thank you for reading my ramblings.

*

*

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Are you still here? Ok, let's start.

With all of the above established, I want to return to the question of where Ferris' arc will go in the future. My belief? I think it will be something similar to what Pre-Amnesia Crusch has already realized, with Felix’s closest parallel in Subaru being close to doing the same.

Crusch, as I mentioned before, has found balance in the two aspects of her life. Throughout the story, she switches seamlessly between the two without a second thought. She is comfortable and happy with both parts of herself.

Subaru is also on a similar path. He feels most comfortable in embracing his feminine side, idealizing it through Natsumi. All his confidence is channeled into that persona, while the other two aspects of his personality (his main self who has all the self-worth of an abandoned puppy and his child self who is representative of his more masculine traits) are imbalanced.

Arc 8 seems to be going in a direction where he realizes how important all of these aspects of him are. All 3 have flaws. None of them are "complete," just pieces of the coherent whole that is Natsuki Subaru.

I believe a similar thing will happen with Ferris.

He will need to find a balance between Ferris, his feminine side that has defined him for so long, and Felix the masculine identity he craves. He needs to find a role that makes him as happy as Crusch was, accepting who he is while striving to become who he wants to be.

I don't expect that to be easy though. In fact, I think the path to get there will be immensely messy and self-destructive.

The idea of Ferris having a breakdown or lashing out has been well-foreshadowed throughout the story. He has had numerous smaller outbursts and has displayed similar problems to Arc 3 Subaru when pushed to an extreme. There's a large amount of toxicity in him that will rush out, sooner or later. It will likely take similar levels of suffering to force him to get a grip, possibly hurting Crusch in the process.

Who do I believe to be the trigger for this? My best guess is Capella.

It is quite possible Capella freed Sphinx and recreated her arms initially. Why would she do this? Why not? We're seeing firsthand how much of a monster Sphinx can be with the Sacrament of the Immortal King. Why wouldn't someone like Capella want something like that under her control?

Of course, Sphinx is almost certainly dying soon. Capella will need a replacement, and who's the only other potential user of the Sacrament? Ferris.

There's also the idea that Capella may have poisoned the Royal Family and, most importantly, Fourier. If Capella does become the main antagonist for Ferris, that could serve as motivation for him to want her dead regardless of his own reservations about killing.

Adding onto this is the fact that shapeshifting is a power with a long history of being associated with identity issues. Tappei likes making his antagonists strong narrative foils to his protagonists, so it would be interesting to contrast Ferris' identity issues with the potentially strong identity issues of Capella.

Finally, there's a lot of potential for her tragic past to parallel Ferris' past, with many implications that the Royal Family may not exactly have treated Emerada the best. The idea that the Royal Family may have locked her away is not implausible and it could make their connections even stronger.

Whatever that breakdown leads to, I expect Crusch and/or Subaru to be the one who snaps him out of it. This will likely be the catalyst that forces Ferris to find a balance. He'll need to let go of things like his self-blame over being unable to help Fourier, his internalized hatred of his current identity, his idealization of Crusch, and his need to save everyone. Ferris's love will finally allow him to grow and change into a person who is the middle ground between his desires and his true self.

After all, that's what Re: Zero is truly about: love and growth. Almost every character reflects this and, if my interpretation of Ferris is right, he could embody that theme just as much as Subaru himself does.

He could be a shining bastion of what this story is all about.

Of course, this is all just my interpretation and speculation. If you disagree with it, feel free to. I just hope I was able to make you appreciate Ferris a bit more/changed your mind on how much potential his character has.

I wish whoever is reading this a nice day!

[xiaosorbet]

unreachable (kaveh x reader)

he's with you day by day, but as each one passes, you feel him growing distant. unreachable. you're not quite sure what changed.

content: angst, established relationship, gender neutral reader

warnings: might be ooc ?? also drinking (it's kaveh)

word count: 3.9k

author's note: HI TUMBLR this is my very first post here!!! hello!!!! also my first time writing in a hot minute so apologies if it's rusty. enjoy :)

sunday

you wake up drowsy and cold. the window is open, letting in a cool breeze. the space next to you on the bed is empty. the bedroom door is closed, though from the other side you can hear the sound of sizzling oil on a pan. kaveh cooks breakfast for you on the weekends, since his schedule doesn't allow him to on weekdays. you don't mind.

you go through the usual weekend morning routine. wash your face, slowly wake your body. the weather today isn't unpleasant; the sun hides behind the clouds, but you sense no sign of upcoming rain. kaveh greets you in the kitchen, wearing his pajamas and a smile. you give him a kiss on the cheek, and you chat about the weather while he flips strips of bacon on the stove.

it's just another sunday. unremarkable, but cozy. you spend time together over breakfast, laughing over the slightly burnt bits of bacon. he isn't used to cooking, since he rarely gets the chance, but he always tries his best. diffident apologies are never excluded from his dishes. seeing his shy smile makes you warm and appreciative.

later, you lay on the couch with him, entangled legs but separate worlds. he hunches over his laptop and a sketchbook, working on a project. the same kind he works on during the weekdays, and late into the nights. you tell him he should rest, he needs a break. he could watch a movie with you. you two could go out somewhere. you haven't gone on a proper date in a while, you tell him. it's sunday, he should be free of his work for once.

he waves you off. he's almost done. just a bit more, he claims, just like he always does. his eyes remain glued to the drafts and the blueprints. they don't catch how your lips straighten into a line, too focused on the ones on his screen.

you've been with him for almost a year. there was a time you could draw him away from his work. in the earlier days, all it took were a kiss and a soft plea, and you would have all of him on you, his hands, his gaze, his attention. nowadays you're not sure if he even hears you sometimes.

the rest of the day is uneventful. you do what you can to pass the time. you read a book as his keyboard clacks, his pencil scratches against the paper. he asks if the sounds bother you, suggests that you could read in the bedroom instead, it'd be more comfortable. they do bother you, just the slightest bit, but you shake your head and say you want to stay.

that night, you get ready for bed together. you brush your teeth together, smile at each other in the mirror. you kiss each other goodnight, and sleep with your backs to one another.

monday

kaveh's alarm wakes you. it trills in your ears, long and loud. you aren't accustomed to the sound lately. usually, you wake to your own alarm. this is the first time in a while you've heard his.

the alarm rings on and on, yet kaveh remains still, deeply asleep, lying on his back. you don't want him to wake up. you stare at his face, peaceful in his sleep, not burdened with stress or frustration from his work. those two emotions seemed to be all he would take home with him during the weekdays. something tells you this was the first good sleep he's had in a while.

all too soon, he stirs and wakes. he turns off the noise and plants a kiss to your head, apologizes for waking you, then moves around the room and around your little apartment, getting ready for work.

he leaves early. every day, he must be in his office at 8:00 a.m. to talk to clients, manage whatever building of his is being constructed at the moment, the works. he used to tell you all about it, and you would listen regardless of how much or how little you understood of his work. these days he just doesn't have the time or energy.

on the other hand, you work from home. your job is one that requires only your computer and half of your day, more or less. your own alarm goes off not long after kaveh has left. your days without him are routine and simple. you make the bed, make yourself breakfast, get to work for a bit. some days you clean the house, other days you get the groceries. it's mundane, and today is no different.

you set up your laptop and do your work on the small dining table near the kitchen. your little shared apartment doesn't have enough space for a study, so you and kaveh make do with the rooms you have.

later in the afternoon, after you've finished your work tasks, you decide to cook something for kaveh once he gets home. upon inspecting the cupboards, you discover that you have all the ingredients needed for a simple cream of mushroom soup. it's his favorite. when you finish, you let the pot sit on the stove.

the rest of the day is uneventful. you're used to the boredom. you send kaveh a text, saying you made him his favorite soup. he responds a couple hours later with a thank you.

his job is supposed to end at 5 p.m., but you count yourself lucky if he makes it home before 7. more often than not, he stays at his office overtime, sometimes because clients and contractors hold him up, though mostly because he throws himself into his work and loses track of time. you never saw the point in that, since he always ended up bringing his work home and doing it here anyway.

when he arrives home, he carries not only his suitcase but also an air of dejectedness you've come to be well acquainted with.

you try to comfort him as best you can, but as the months have gone by, your company seems to have less and less of an effect as a distraction from his woes. you sit with him on the couch and ask him what's wrong, but he brushes you off. the usual, he says. that's what he tends to reply with these days, and it's been so long since he's elaborated further that you can hardly recall what "the usual" is anymore.

you miss the way he would talk your ear off about all of his problems, the way he would pass them all onto you for you to dispel them with sweet, comforting words and gestures. you were his rock.

silence stretches between you and him. you aren't quite sure how to break it and even less sure that he wants you to.

tentatively, you tell him a little about your day. there isn't much to tell, and you feel somewhat bad telling him about your job that is less taxing than his. he seems to be listening, but he doesn't have much to say in response. only a few hums and nods. he must be exhausted.

you remember the soup you made him, and you tell him. his lips twitch up into a small smile in acknowledgement, though his ruby red eyes, weighed down by eyebags, hold only his tiredness.

when you set down two bowls of soup on the dining table, soft snores emanate from kaveh's body, now haphazardly draped across the couch. you think to wake him for dinner, but something inside you makes you stop. you don't know what it is, but there's this feeling, a voice in your head saying he'd probably just prefer to sleep there undisturbed. it's not a new occurrence.

so you eat alone. the second bowl goes into the fridge.

tuesday

this time, your own alarm is what wakes you. when you get up, you find that kaveh has already left for work. you guess he slept on the couch all night, because you didn't feel him climb into bed with you, and the sheets on his side of the bed remain unwrinkled.

you go through the usual cycle of work and boredom. nothing noteworthy happens with your work or around the house. you start pondering many things in your free time. you think about how you should probably clean the house one of these days. there's been a bit of dust on the counters, the shelves.

you think about kaveh, who must be working himself to the bone. you know he loves his job. no matter the obstacles he would have to face, all the issues and complications, he would always express to you that there isn't anything else he'd rather be doing.

nowadays… he doesn't tell you much of anything. it's like he closed off. you know he still loves his job. it's been his passion to be an architect his whole life. you don't sense that that has changed, but… something else has. his job has always been a demanding one. you're used to seeing him come home exhausted, stressed. but he confides in you about it less and less. you don't know why.

the question of why isn't a particularly new one. it's been there in the back of your mind, occasionally surfacing on days like this. you never had an answer, so you would usually push it away and pretend like there's nothing to question at all. that's what you intend to do today, just like the countless times before. you don't want to bother him with it anyway.

when he gets home, it's the same, but he seems less tired than the day before. he brought home takeout for dinner, and the two of you make small talk as you eat. you bring out the soup from yesterday too, and he thanks you for it. he apologizes that he didn't eat it yesterday. you wave him off, it's not a big deal.

the conversation doesn't get detailed or personal. any spectator that would happen upon the two of you might not realize that you've been together for over a year. the words that flow between you and him are friendly but not intimate. an unfamiliar feeling seems to tug at your heart, something that feels like sadness or confusion or dread, but you ignore it as you exchange idle chatter.

kaveh offers to do the dishes, but you stop him and do them yourself. he gives you a smile, and you see the tinge of gratitude in his tired eyes.

later, when you're about to head to bed, you bid kaveh goodnight while he hunches over a sketchbook on the couch, and you know he'll probably fall asleep there again.

before you go, you watch him from the hall; he's right there, yet somehow he feels… unreachable. your chest twinges again with that strange feeling. your lips part and you feel like you want to say something, but there's really nothing to be said.

you face kaveh's side of the bed when you lay. you feel a little cold, and the soft light peeking from beneath the door feels so far away.

wednesday

when you wake up, his side of the bed is empty and seemingly undisturbed once again. part of you thinks that maybe he just fixes and straightens out the sheets before he leaves, but you know that isn't something he'd do.

the rest of the house isn't as empty, though. as you make your morning coffee, you idly look around your place. it feels like it's been a while since you've really seen it.

most of it just screams kaveh. he decorated the place when you first moved in. you helped choose some of the furniture, but ultimately, you let him have the creative freedon to do with them as he pleased. some stray sketches are scattered on the coffee table in the living room. next to them, a couple of pencils. you pick up one of the sheets of paper and see a gorgeous landscape drawn on it. a garden with winding pathways and dreamlike flora and a romantic gazebo right at the center.

something seems to gnaw at the inside of your chest. a feeling of yearning. you're not sure why, but this drawing has made you feel like you're missing something.

you miss kaveh. the realization strikes you so overwhelmingly that your grip on the sketch tightens, your frown deepens. you miss him.

so what now?

you sift through a few more of his drawings, most of which are unfinished. as your eyes skim over his messy handwriting on each piece of paper, next to each grand building and humble house, the urge to call him, to hear his voice, to feel him with you becomes too much to bear.

where is this coming from? why are you feeling this? he was with you last night, wasn't he?

no, not really.

…but in the end, you decide to keep your feelings to yourself, and you decide not to call and disturb him while he's at work. though, to at least satiate the gnawing and pulling and dragging in your chest, you shoot him a text saying you hope his work is going smoothly. he responds a little bit later with a thank you, saying he hopes the same for you. and that's enough.

thursday

you're surprised when the first thing you see upon waking up is kaveh's back. the clock on your nightstand reads 3:08 a.m. and everything else is dark, but you can just make out his silhouette lying next to you.

the aching in your heart comes back. you will yourself to push it down and go back to sleep, but it demands to be felt. you feel it stronger than ever, the urge to reach out to him and pull his body to yours and feel him against you. nothing should be stopping you, but you hesitate nonetheless. you prop yourself onto your elbow and gaze at him for a while. even here, mere inches away, he is unreachable. you lean down and ghost your lips on his shoulder and whisper i miss you before laying back down and drifting back to sleep.

when you wake up again, the morning sun colors the bedroom, and you see that kaveh no longer occupies the space next to you. the rumpled sheets in his place tell you that you didn't just dream of his presence there last night.

the day passes by in a blur. it feels like the only thing you're fully conscious of is the dull sadness in your heart. you miss kaveh overwhelmingly. it confuses you how far away he feels even when he's right next to you. it's as if some invisible barrier has grown between you and him. you just miss being close with him.

when he gets home, you expect your heart to lighten, but it only seems to weigh down on you more. you can't help but envelop him in a soft hug when he walks through the door. you hope he can feel some of the yearning in your embrace. he returns the hug halfheartedly. he's just tired from work.

as you have dinner together in the low light of the dining room, you can't help but watch everything kaveh does. he's the same as he'd been since you met him. the way he holds his fork is the same as it was when you first went out to dinner together. all his little mannerisms, the way his body moves with everything he does, it's all so familiar to you. his whole being is chronicled in your mind. you liked to think that there wasn't anything you didn't know about him, but lately, you aren't so sure anymore.

and so it's back once more, the urge to reach out, the urge to ask him so many things and feel him with you again. the feeling that he's so distant despite being right in front of you. unconsciously, your grip on your fork tightens. you watch him some more out of the corner of your eye, unsure. his eyes focus only on his food.

your thoughts and wants whirl around you until you can no longer bear the silence between you and him.

finally, you manage to open up and ask him. why are you so distant lately? why don't you tell me things anymore?

you intended to sound stronger, gentle but still confrontational, but you felt like a little kid as you spoke. like you doubted your own words, that your questions might be unreasonable.

he doesn't give you an answer. for a long time, he stays silent. he stops eating and refuses to meet your eyes. his name leaves your lips, so soft and so small that you think he didn't hear. so you repeat it, more insistently. your mind floods with pleas that lodge in your throat. please. answer. tell me.

seemingly sensing your growing desperation, kaveh looks into your hopeful and pleading eyes, and simply says: i don't know. i'm sorry.

in his ever-familiar scarlet eyes, in that face you know like the back of your hand, you feel like you see a stranger in the windows of his soul.

that night, you toss and turn alone in your bed. the emptiness of it used to be so easily excused as kaveh simply accidentally falling asleep with his work. only now did it occur to you that he might have been doing it intentionally.

your mind feels like a storm of confusion and frustration and sadness. you wish you had the strength and reason to scream at him. instead, hot tears fall onto his pillow where you lay your head.

friday

the day feels dull and empty. you aren't entirely sure what to do. you go through the motions of a normal work day, but it's obvious that you're lost and helpless. you feel weak, being so uncertain of where kaveh stands. you're certain that he still loves you... that maybe he's just going through something within the confines of his own mind. he needs only to let you in so you can repair the rift between you two, so you can heal whatever's broken inside him.

throughout the day, you subconsciously make a vague script of things you want to say to kaveh when he arrives home.

please tell me what's wrong, kaveh.

i'm here for you, kaveh.

please come back to me, kaveh.

every sentence formed is laced with desperation. it feels like you're screaming into an empty cave, no response besides the echo of your distress.

all you want is for things to go back to how they used to be. you yearn for kaveh's eyes to shine with all the love and adoration in his heart like they used to whenever he looked at you. you miss feeling his warm gaze, his strong arms around your body, conveying every ounce of affection he couldn't express with words.

you just miss his love.

strangely, the day feels excruciatingly long, but also as if it passed in the blink of an eye. you're entrapped within the haze of your own longing.

you don't realize how late it is when kaveh gets home. you intend to greet him casually, so that you don't overwhelm him. you intend to communicate your feelings to him over dinner. though you're overflowing with things to say, you don't wish to go overboard.

but you soon forget all of that, because one look at him slightly swaying by the entrance immediately tells you that he's drunk. all your thoughts are instantly replaced by concern. you rush to his side while he holds a hand against his head. instinctually, you begin fussing over him, asking him why he drank, how much he had. you know he's not good at handling his liquor. the redness taking over his face and neck indicate that he drank a lot.

you don't remember exactly when, but there was a time he promised you he'd stop drinking to this extent. one late night, he came home drunk after work, in a state similar to his current one. you fussed and worried about him. you lectured him too. so he promised he would stop, because he didn't want to cause you more distress.

now, you ask him why he's broken his promise. maybe you were right in thinking something was wrong with his work, enough to drive him to drinking again. in your flurry of emotions, you barely give him room to breathe. you seem to briefly forget yourself as you reach up and cradle his face in your hands. gently, you plead, tell me what's wrong.

he takes your wrists and sighs before stepping away from you. your name leaves his lips in a broken whisper. he looks at you, and you see every bit of your desperation and chaos in your reflection in his eyes. his eyes, which are pained, bloodshot, defeated. he apologizes.

you step towards him. you don't want an apology. you want an explanation. he starts by saying that he cares about you. that you still mean something to him, that you'll always be someone important. it sounds like he's rambling.

everything else blurs. the only things you fully perceive in the next moments are the words that leave his mouth and the look in his eyes as he says them, resolute, mournful, regretful.

i just don't love you anymore.

saturday

they say drunk words are sober thoughts. deep down, you knew he'd say those words eventually. you've been in denial for the longest time. always trying to push away the notion that he no longer loved you. you always thought it was impossible, but part of you knew this was inevitable. it didn't matter that he was drunk. you both knew the words have been sitting on his tongue for a while now.

maybe that's why you didn't cry that night. when you went into the bedroom and lied down, yes you were sad, but there was also a sort of relief there. a burden was lifted from your shoulders and his. you no longer have to pretend. as you drifted off to sleep, you felt somewhat weightless.

it's midday now. the gravity of what happened starts to settle in. you lay on the couch, which smells like him, and your tears fall onto the cushions. kaveh is nowhere in the house. he left you with a note, saying he'll be staying at a friend's place. in the note, he promised he'd come back and you two could talk. the tiny naive part of you felt hope that he meant to work things out with you. but you know it's hopeless.

the silence of your home stabs into your ears. you cocoon yourself in memories of him, in sheets with his scent, in his drawings and once endless musings. your heart won't stop reaching for what isn't there. you still don't fully understand how someone could just fall out of love. but there's nothing else you can do about it now.

all you can do is let him go.

sunday

you wake up drowsy and cold. you stare at the ceiling for a very long time. no sounds of sizzling or pleasant humming make their way to where you lie. birds chirp their morning song, car engines phase past.

his world rotates without you.

[gin-juice-tonic]

can i ask how youre able to make so many comics or if you have any tips for aspiring internet funny comic makers? your gag comics are always so creative and funny and well-executed, and your longer form stuff is just a delight to read, i would love to know if u have any advice/insight into yr process

I'm not good at advice so you will have to bear with me here. Also I'm putting it under a readmore cause images make it into a long post. The like first 3/4th of this I talk about specific comics I did, but if you scroll to the end I tried to give some general advice.

My stuff is unfortunately very inspiration-based as opposed to planning-based. So my process might not be helpful if you're looking for something structured... The first thing I should say is I write down basically anything that pops into my head ever. I have a bunch of nonsensical tumblr drafts,

I have stuff in my phones notes app,

I have pages and pages of papers and post-it notes littering my apartment (if you want to know the extent, my sister asked me how I could live with my apartment being so "messy". The only messy thing in it is my papers scattered about). I find the paper stuff the best, because I can draw instead of just writing down concepts.

This is the page I did for the comic about Stan "comforting" Dipper over his unrequited crush on Wendy. (The tumblr version being here)

You will notice aside from the order on the page being strange and some scratched out dialogue, there's not really evidence of a 'plan' here. That's because I was just drawing this as I was thinking it. You will also notice there are two random unrelated Ford drawings in the middle of the page. That's because I was drawing ANYTHING that I was thinking of.

And when I say write down anything, I do mean it. Write down something you did that week, something you remember from when you were 8, something you said out loud and laughed at, things you thought about in the shower, a fact you learned, what your friend had for dinner. See if you can apply it to something. I've mentioned before that this comic only exists because I ran out of toilet paper and went to buy a large bulk pack of it...

When I already have a base idea and just want to expand on it, I usually draw first ask questions later, and things seem to just snowball into being a story. As an example, for the comic I did about Dipper's swimsuit, the base idea was just "Dipper and Stan both wear fully covering swimwear - because they're trans and its what they're comfortable with." But when I went to look up what Dipper wore to the pool, i noticed mabel had a Star one piece suit

Dipper has a star hat in the first episode that he loses, right? SO why don't we give him a matching star one piece that he abandons.

Of course then that single drawing CREATES the story, because we have to explain how he eventually ends up in what he's wearing in the episode. And then I just draw and draw and draw until either the comic ends or I can't continue for whatever reason. The outline for the full thing usually forms while I'm drawing. If I'm worried about forgetting, I'll write down what comes next.

Some of this stuff I didn't stick to, or greatly expanded upon. It's good to be flexible with what you're doing. If something you originally intended only to be a throwaway bit inspires you, roll with it and keep going. (If it ends up being nothing, you can always discard it or turn it into something else later anyway)

I did the swimsuit one basically fully on my computer, but if you want to see another paper based one, a lot of the comic with the kid stans and crampelter I'm doing currently is down on paper.

If you can make out my writing, you can see it says "Crampelter has found out about Stan and Ford's boxing identities" at the top there, which was the general main idea of this part of the comic. This one was a lot more planned than the dipper swimsuit one. There's multiple pages of this sort of stuff, and I knew the idea I wanted was "If Ford and Stan are trans, why would they still be called those names as kids?" (So I guess the takeaway from this one is if you're wanting a structured comic, write down the main idea on the top of a page and brainstorm dialogue and drawings on it?)

There's a lot of sort of floating heads with dialogue, all that matters is I get the emotions or general idea drawn. They're important for me to draw out because being able to "see" the scene (even if I'm seeing it heavily unfinished) is what usually inspires the next bit of the comic.

And I know I talked like a lot already but some general other advice:

Draw, ask questions about what you've drawn, draw more to answer the questions, see if those new drawings ask any new questions, continue this process till you come to a satisfying resolution.

It's fine to not draw something immediately after you've thought of it. I have a lot of things I've just squirreled away for later. And in the same vein its okay to drag something old up that you've never used and try to work with it.

I almost always put on music while I'm trying to think of things. Something I feel fits the mood of what I'm doing tonally. And then I usually just put the same song on repeat, though some people im sure would feel like that is psychological torture. But its helpful to me.

This might sound silly if you're someone who leaves the house a societally normal amount, but I try to go out into the world and do things so I get new ideas and experiences I can build on. Sometimes those things are literally just "go to the park", but sometimes it's venturing out somewhere several hours away or doing an activity i'd never care to do normally... I try to take note of anything that stood out to me and write down thoughts or feelings I had during.

When it comes to trying to be "funny", you should try to make yourself laugh first. Not only because you want your comics to bring yourself joy, but also because its just hard to make stuff you don't care about (And harder to be consistent about it). Though if you think of something and you don't really think its funny, you don't have to throw it away! You might be surprised what other people end up liking. So don't kill yourself to write jokes you yourself don't really get, but if your brain spits out something on its own you dont care much for, it still may be gold to someone else.

It's okay to make comics about simple and relatable things. People love relating. And depending on what you're writing about, that relatability may be really needed!

Everyone has something of value to say. Even if you yourself don't feel like the things you're saying matter, or that they're too silly or un-serious to matter. They matter.

[bruh-changbin]

ivy league

pairing: uni boyfriend!hyunjin x afab reader

genre: fluff + smut (minors dni)

warnings: fingering (f receiving), public sex, lowkey exhibitionism, oral sex (m receiving), snowballing (tis’ the season), little bit of cum eating, unprotected sex (be safe), piv, creampie, tit sucking, both are kinda switches?, alcohol consumption

word count: 5.8K

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR MOFOS!!! my new years resolution is to find out why hyunjin is so fucking hard to write for 😻 maybe it’s bc his personality is kinda all over the place or maybe i just suck but anyways i hope i did him justice. (also for the sake of this fic pls pretend he still has long brown hair bc that was my fav look on him ever)i do apologize as this was supposed to be posted right after new years but i have been a busy busy gal as of late. nevertheless, i hope you enjoy (also apologies if this posts weird tumblr is being A MAJOR PAIN IN THE ASS AS I TRY TO EDIT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

photos not mine, credit to original owners (retrieved from pinterest)

studying away from home was always a dream of yours. there’s something so enticing about living and learning in a new city that piques your interest. when you got an acceptance letter from an ivy league school a few hours away from your hometown, you didn’t think twice before enrolling. 

only then did you find out that 90% of the student body at ivy league schools - or any high status campus, really - are insufferable. there are wannabe jane austen’s and christopher nolan’s at every turn, griping about how getting a 98% on their most recent paper just isn’t good enough (news flash: it is). 

ergo, every time you’ve tried to befriend someone you met in the student centre or library or in one of your lectures you’ve discovered they’re too obsessed with their status to even hold a proper conversation with you. there’s only one person who makes studying here at least somewhat bearable: hwang hyunjin.

you met hyunjin in september, a mere 2 days before classes were set to begin for the fall semester. it was somewhat unfortunate, your first encounter, seeing as it entailed you spilling your iced french vanilla all over hyunjin’s silky white button up top. you were trying to shove your wallet back into your bag as you left a coffee shop and he was enthralled in his phone, both of you too distracted to notice the other before colliding. 

you both apologized profusely, you for being careless and him for being in the way (he wasn’t) until you insisted he came to your apartment to get cleaned up since it’s only a 3 minute walk away, i feel horrible for ruining your clothes. 

he complied, and you led him to your small studio apartment, giving him some privacy to shower and steal whatever clothes in your closet that fit him. 

when he stepped out of your bathroom, hair still damp and skin glowing, the rounds of i’m so sorry’s started up again as you handed him back his shirt, now with a large coffee stain on the chest that even your tide pen couldn’t tackle. he grabbed his shirt before chuckling, revealing that he too was a frequent customer of the cafe you were at and often opted to go there instead of indulging in the overpriced shit they sell on campus. 

upon discovering that you were both students at the same university you got to talking, which led to hyunjin staying for dinner at your place, which led to an impromptu make-out session on your second-hand couch. when you made it known that you wanted to take things further, he initially declined because hey, i’m not that kind of guy. in the end he couldn’t keep his hands off of you and you were more than happy to lead him down the hallway to your bedroom. 

soon after he had you writhing under your cotton bed sheets while making you cum on his tongue… and his fingers and his cock. his shaggy, shoulder length mocha hair felt like silk in between your fingers and the whines and whimpers he let out when you tugged on it sounded like heaven.

so, your first encounter with hyunjin was a catastrophe turned fuck session turned we should do this again sometime…

now it’s the heart of winter and you’re about to sock your boyfriend in the jaw when you see him leaning against the brick exterior of your lecture hall, the tips of his ears stained cherry red and his breath passing his lips in the form of a cloud.

“hyunjin i told you to stop waiting for me outside of my lecture hall’s, you’re seriously gonna get frostbite!” you emphasize by pinching his frozen ears - he winces.

“what happened to hello? how are you?” he complains before slipping his hand into the pocket of your puffer jacket and intertwining his fingers with yours; his hands are so cold you flinch.

“well sorry i don’t want you to get sick,” you roll your eyes while shoving your headphones into your tote bag, not needing them now that hyunjin has graced you with his presence, “and you know that class always puts me in a bad mood.”

“ahh yes that’s the one with the, what was it, douchey prof and even douchier students, right?”

“that’s the one.” you sniffle, nose going numb from the cold wind biting at your face as you let hyunjin drag you across campus to god knows where.

“well turn that frown upside down, i’m about to treat you to the most romantic study date ever,” hyunjin asserts while pulling you in the direction of the student lounge, careful not to walk too quickly so you don’t slip on the ice hidden underneath the blanket of snow on the ground.

although the trek from your lecture hall to the student common room is quite short, only subjecting you to the outside weather conditions for a mere minute or two, you rejoice when you step inside and regain shelter from the cold. a blast of hot air greets you and hyunjin shakes the snow off of his perfectly styled hair, retracting his hand from your jacket pocket.

the two of you make your way down the corridor before waltzing into the main study area of the student lounge, seating yourself on a worn in brown leather couch. 

once your winter jacket is discarded you pull your textbook out of your bag, using your peripherals to watch hyunjin pull out his laptop and begin editing photos for his photography class.

it’s serene; watching the snow fall through the window to your left, feeling the warmth radiating from hyunjin who’s sitting to your right. the feeling of hyunjin’s hand (which is still quite cold) on your knee comforts you and you immerse yourself in the words of your textbook, wanting to catch up on the chapters you were supposed to read for this week but didn’t have the time or patience to.

alas, you should’ve known that hyunjin had… other intentions when he said he was taking you on the most romantic study date ever. it only takes a few minutes before you feel his hand inching its way up your leg. 

his eager fingers dance across your thigh before groping your pelvis, causing you to clamp your legs shut in surprise, trapping your boyfriend’s hand in between them.

“are you fucking kidding me hyunjin? we’re in public…”

hyunjin scans the vicinity of the student lounge, which, admittedly, there are only two other students present, both so absorbed in their respective textbooks that they’re practically drooling. but that doesn’t mean you’re about to let him finger bang you in a public area in front of your fellow students. 

“what, you don’t wanna show everyone how well you take my fingers?” by now his index and middle fingers are playing with the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to give the go ahead before dipping underneath.

“come on, let me play with you.”

try as you may, you can’t resist the twisting of your stomach and the pitter-patter of your heart at hyunjin’s words. by now your pussy is leaking indefinitely and you shift in your spot in a pathetic attempt to alleviate the dull throbbing you feel in your pelvis.  

the more you squirm the more pressure you feel from hyunjin’s hand trapped in between your thighs, the heel of his palm pushing against your cunt that’s becoming more sensitive by the second. 

a pleasure induced haze clouds your brain and soon enough you’ve convinced yourself that hyunjin fingering you in the student lounge is in fact a good idea. it’s not like anyone can see you, right? you’re sandwiched between the wall and hyunjin, who’s broad shoulders block you from the curious gaze of others - no one would be the wiser. 

with a bashful look on your face you ease your legs open, granting hyunjin access to your sticky panties and aching clit. the dexterity in which hyunjin’s hand pushes past your waistband and into the dripping folds of your cunt almost gives you whiplash.  

like the little bitch he is he teases you for several moments, the tip of his index finger drawing lazy circles around your clit before gliding down to your hole and then back up again, never giving you what you actually want. 

you know hyunjin’s enjoying watching you twitch and shift in your seat as he plays with your cunt; even more so does he enjoy watching you bite back a frustrated whine when he pulls his hand from you entirely, takes a second to coat his digits in his own saliva by sucking on them, and shove his hand back down your pants.

with help from hyunjin’s makeshift lube his slender spit-covered fingers slip inside of you with little resistance, causing your stomach to flutter and churn. the stretch is subtle yet pleasurable and your body automatically folds in on itself: head hung low, knees knocking together, back hunched. 

if anyone were to walk by they would hopefully assume that you’re just worn out from the end of semester stress and not clue in on the fact that your boyfriend is knuckle deep in your pussy. 

hyunjin starts with small movements, his finger gliding in and out of you slowly while curling upwards in a ‘come-hither’ type motion. he’s trying to make his movements as undetectable as possible, struggling against your tight cunt that sucks him in with each and every thrust of his fingers. 

lucky for you your lover was blessed with long fingers, ones that reach so deep inside of you with so little effort that it makes the room spin. little shocks rock your body when hyunjin fully sheathes his index and middle fingers inside of you, the cold metal of the rings adorning his fingers a stark contrast to your hot wet pussy.

the pace of hyunjin’s fingers quickens; your bottom lip stings from how hard you’re biting down on it. your breath leaves you in the form of forced exhales through your nose, the urge to say fuck it and moan aloud for all of your peers to hear becoming almost irresistible and you pray that hyunjin’s going to make you finish before you do something you’ll regret. 

hyunjin pushes his fingers impossibly deeper into you, the heel of his palm now providing the most delicious friction on your neglected clit. you resist the urge to grind your hips against his hand. 

“are you close?” hyunjin whispers, his plush lips caressing the shell of your ear and sending shivers down your spine. how long has his face been that close to yours? you think, but you’re too out of it to turn your thoughts into words. you just nod frantically, eyes rolling backwards as your impending orgasm looms closer and closer.

the sensation of hyunjin’s fingers pistoning in and of you and his palm bumping your clit is enough to quickly send you over the edge, biting the inside of your cheek so hard you can taste the metallic tang of blood against your tongue. 

you cream all over his fingers while sucking in a breath so big it hurts your lungs so as to prevent yourself from making any noise. the grip you have on hyunjins wrist goes limp and you wince as he pulls his fingers from you, placing a chaste kiss on your temple as if to say i’m proud of you. 

with that hyunjin casually sucks your wetness from his fingers, briefly wiping them on his pants before returning to editing his photos on his laptop. you struggle to regain your focus on the textbook splayed out in front of you, the pages swimming before your eyes as the pleasure in the pit of your stomach slowly subsides.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“i still don’t understand why you were so adamant about using my kitchen to bake instead of yours.”

hyunjin glances up from his phone at your words, his pupils so dark they remind you of tapioca pearls. 

“i live with three frat guys, my kitchen is a biohazard.”

ah yes, that’s right. hyunjin’s roommates, although very nice guys who treat you with respect, are frat guys nonetheless. chan is the cleanest of them all, although that's mostly due to him eating out the majority of the time. changbin and jisung however…

you raise your hands in defence, shuddering at the thought of the army of glasses filled with stale protein shakes that greeted you the last time you ventured into hyunjin’s apartment.

upon seeing you wash your hands in preparation for baking hyunjin joins you behind the kitchen counter. his ring-clad fingers roll up the sleeves of his white long sleeve top before tucking the stray hairs in front of his face behind his ears. 

“alright, what are we baking?” he says with his game-face on.

“i was thinking we could do gingerbread… you know, since it’s the holidays.” you begin to search for a recipe on your phone.

hyunjin makes a sour face at this: lips puckered, brows furrowed, eyelids lowered. dramatic. “i don’t like gingerbread,” he states.

“oh? why not?”

“it’s too spicy.”

this motherfucker…

“...spicy? what are you, twelve?”

“i have a sensitive palate!” your boyfriend whines like a toddler. 

“shut the fuck up hwang, we’re making gingerbread.”

hyunjin hangs his head in defeat while you trifle through your cupboards for the proper ingredients. soon enough a small pile is formed on your countertop and you begin sorting everything in order to start baking. a slender hand caresses your lower back and you jump slightly.

“you know it kinda turns me on when you’re all authoritative like that…”

of course. leave it to hyunjin to get horny at literally any hour of the day. 

“you’re insufferable. does hyunjin jr. ever take a day off?”

hyunjin scoffs, “he does, actually. remember the day you were so swamped with the paper you were writing and me, being the best boyfriend ever, had the decency to not try to get in your pants so you could focus?”

“wow, so chivalrous.”

hyunjin playfully shoves your head and then pats your hair as if to assure you his teasing is all in good fun (you know it is).

for someone who was so adamant about baking for the holidays, hyunjin is incredibly inept in the kitchen. first he adds baking powder to the mixing bowl instead of baking soda, then proceeds to knock over your precious bottle of pure vanilla extract, followed by him getting molasses on his tongue and wailing in disgust because it tastes like straight ass! this is all tied together by him spilling flour all over your countertops because why the fuck not. 

“remind me to never allow you to have access to my kitchen ever again,” you huff in frustration while rolling out your batter, a thin layer of sweat forming on your upper lip.

“why? I’m having fun… are you not having fun?” a cheeky grin is plastered across his face as he places his hand on the flour-covered counter before smacking your ass so hard you shriek. whipping your head around, you gape at the perfect flour handprint imprinted on the seat of your favourite pair of pants. 

“WHAT THE FUCK HYUNJIN!!???” you shove his chest before frantically dusting the flour off of your rear. hyunjin can’t seem to control his laughter.

“payback!” he says cheerily while wiping his hands on the hem of his shirt. by now the smell and taste of flour has filled the air of your kitchen. 

“payback for what you dipshit??”

he smiles, “for when you spilled coffee on my shirt.”

“are you fucking kidding me hwang? that was like four months ago!” you return to kneading the dough in front of you, although now you do so with much more aggression, “need i remind you that the coffee incident is how we met in the first place?”

“i knowww~” his palm glides across your upper back in a soothing motion before he rests his chin your your shoulder, “i’m just teasing.”

you bite back a smile before glancing at hyunjin perched on your shoulder, his squishy cheeks matching the soft gaze of his eyes. domestic bliss. you continue to knead the dough in front of you until it’s ready to be rolled out.

when you turn to look at hyunjin again he’s leaning into you even more, pink lips puckered slightly and eyelids closed causing his lashes to grace the tops of his cheeks.

you throw flour in his face.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it’s new years eve and you don’t know what to wear.

“just throw on something skimpy and call it a day,” jeongin says through the speaker of your phone, “you’re supposed to be here in like an hour, remember?”

“i can get ready in an hour,” you respond while holding various garments up to your body and gazing at your reflection in the mirror. so many options, so little time.

“i don’t know about that y/n, remember halloween?”

you do remember halloween. more specifically, you remember jeongin whining and bitching for the entirety of the two and a half hours it took for you to transform yourself into ty lee from avatar: the last airbender. it was worth it though, you looked exactly like her. 

“come on, that was a one time thing. i’ll be at your place on time!” you whine while tossing an unworthy crop top onto the pile of clothes on your floor that’s steadily increasing.

“i don’t know y/n you’re pretty indecisive and-” you hang up on him, not wanting to hear him bitch and whine about your inability to make even the most minuscule decisions. 

it takes you half an hour to choose the perfect outfit, and then another half hour to do your makeup and hair, followed by a fifteen minute stare-down with your reflection in the mirror as you question everything. is this really the best look i can come up with? your head hurts and you haven’t even started drinking yet. 

“y/n~” hyunjin whines from his place in the living room, “are you almost ready?”

you give him a half-assed yea before exiting your bedroom, giving yourself and your outfit one final check in the mirror.

in preparation for tonight’s celebration you helped hyunjin bleach and dye his hair a shade of icy blue last night, almost permanently damaging his bathroom sink and counter in the process. his now cerulean mane matches the blue of his denim jacket that has an eye-catching collar lined with fluffy white fur (faux of course - no animal cruelty here). his pants are denim as well, a quintessential canadian tuxedo, and just a hint of silver glitter is detectable on his eyelids. you could eat him right the fuck up. 

“you look cute,” you purr before waltzing over to your boyfriend and standing in front of where he’s sat on the couch.

“as do you,” his eyes scan your body, “the five hours it took you to get ready paid off.”

“i did not take five hours to get ready hwang, you’re just impatient.” you pat his leg as if to say get off your ass, it’s time to go, prompting him to push himself off of his couch and over to the coat rack by his front door.

“this coat totally clashes with my outfit,” you complain as you pull on your thick puffer jacket.

hyunjin feigns sympathy, “it’s either that or you freeze. come on, chan’s wondering why we’re not there yet.”

hyunjin all but yanks you out the door, locking it behind him before the two of you step onto the bustling city streets that are teeming with people searching for a place to drink and celebrate. 

arriving at jeongin’s a mere couple of hours before midnight, you rid yourself of your chunky winter coat and start to mingle with the rest of the crowd. hyunjin, despite knowing more people at the party than you, stands behind you like a lost baby sheep for the entire night, waiting for you to loop him into whatever conversation you’re having. 

you briefly speak with jeongin, who teases you for arriving late (how he managed to spot you and hyunjin sneaking in later than you said you would arrive is beyond you) and then encourages you to get a drink and ‘let loose’.

in the kitchen you help yourself to whatever alcohol you can find - most of the selection isn’t to your liking and you regret not bringing your own drinks from home. nevertheless, you force some pathetic margarita mix down your throat before spotting hyunjin’s roommates, chan, changbin and jisung, in the crowd and heading over to converse with them.

time seems to fly by and soon enough there are only a few minutes left until it’s time to ring in the new year. someone, most likely felix, blasts madonna through the speakers and a livestream of the new york ball drop is displayed on the tv in the living room.

“y/n?” 

“yes hyunjin?”

he hesitates, starry eyes looking everywhere but your own, “will you be my new year’s kiss?”

you stifle a laugh; the poor boy looks like he’s about to puke after asking you that so you try your best to play nice.

“of course i will.” you caress your boyfriend's cheek ever so gently, his cheeks turning rosy and flushed as you do so.

around you the cheers from the other partygoers have increased as the countdown displayed on the tv hits the thirty second mark. as the ball descends on the screen your fingers reach for hyunjin, grasping his wrist in excitement as the two of you start to countdown alongside everyone else.

“3….2….1….HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!”

as soon as the clock strikes midnight hyunjin’s pillowy pink lips are attached to yours, capturing you in a heartfelt kiss to celebrate the ending of an old year and beginning of a new one. it would be a crime not to reciprocate so you do, only pulling away when you hear jeongin start to make gagging noises at the two of you over everyone else's cheers. 

felix jumps onto the couch and changbin uncorks a bottle of pommery cuvée louise with a celebratory pop! 

before you can approach changbin and ask for a glass of champagne that he splurged on for the special occasion, you’re being dragged down the hallway. away from the music and cheering and people and into a dark, empty bedroom; based on the decor you assume it’s felix’s.

the metallic click of a door being shut and locked echoes throughout the empty room and when you turn to face hyunjin pursues you again. away from the curious gazes of bystanders he kisses you with unrestrained passion and lust - a kiss that isn’t just a simple display of affection but a kiss that says i want this to lead to something more. 

in the confines of this empty bedroom you allow yourself to melt into his lips, his touch. you inhale his scent and push your tongue past his teeth and into his mouth, tasting a hint of the miller lite he was sipping on earlier on his tongue. with ease hyunjin makes his way down your jaw and to your neck, placing affectionate open mouth kisses against the sensitive skin of your throat. occasionally you feel his canines nip you before his tongue glides over your skin.

“i’ve been wanting to be alone with you since we left the apartment,” hyunjin admits sheepishly, the ends of his hair tickling your ear.

“is that why you spent the entire night hiding behind me?”

like a deer in headlights, hyunjin freezes, “maybe…” you can feel his lips curl into a small smile from where they’re attached to your neck.

not wanting to waste any more time you shove hyunjin off of you, your hands grasping the collar of his denim jacket before dragging it down his shoulders and arms, followed by his shirt. hyunjin follows suit and moves to unbutton his jeans, pulling them down his thick thighs. now he stands in front of you wearing only his briefs, his hard cock straining against the material, the glow from the moon painting his skin a cool shade of blue.

when you step closer to him you can feel his breath fan across your face, watch his eyes swim with curiosity and enamourment, see his chest rise and fall with each and every shaky breath. your fingertips hook into the elastic waistband of his briefs, yanking them down and letting them pool at his ankles before gently guiding him to sit on the bed behind him.

now that hyunjin’s seated you move to kneel in front of him, kissing your way down the soft milky skin of his abs and around his belly button and the insides of his thighs. his cock stands fully erect, and you lick your lips before getting yourself ready to suck him off. 

when you first fucked hyunjin all those months ago you were taken aback at how perfect his cock was. not to sound cliche, but it felt as if the two of you were destined to be together with how well he fit inside of your cunt and down your throat. now, you admire him once again before licking him from base to tip.

time is of the essence you think before taking his length in your hot mouth.

over the course of time you’ve spent dating and fucking hyunjin you’ve discovered that he’s very sensitive… and very vocal. as soon as his cock is in your mouth he’s struggling to keep quiet, the veins on his neck tensing and his knuckles white as he grips the bedsheets underneath him. it’s not like anyone would hear him lest they be pressed up right against the bedroom door, but still, he tries his best to preserve at least a little bit of his dignity. 

for the sake of your throat you wrap your hand around the base of hyunjin’s dick, opting to jerk what you can’t comfortably fit in your mouth. the soft muscle of your tongue expertly wraps around his length as you begin to bob your head, starting off slow so you don’t overwhelm hyunjin (who already seems to be going into sensory overload). 

the movements of your hand are in tandem with those of your mouth, the nails that you got done for new years looking so perfect wrapped around his sensitive cock. small beads of sweat begin to form on your temple as you continue to work hyunjin to his release, not wanting to stop until he’s satisfied. your knees are already starting to ache from being pressed against the cold, hard floor but you pay the discomfort no mind.

above you, hyunjin’s struggling to keep himself under control. he’s been on edge all evening, and now that you’re having your way with him he can’t quite contain his delectation. surely there are other people fucking at this party right now, right? what does it matter if he makes a bit of noise?

fuck dignity, he wants to let you know how good you’re making him feel. 

hyunjin’s bottom lip throbs in relief when he releases it from his teeth, allowing his head to fall back while groans of pleasure shamelessly tumble from his mouth. 

your ears strain to block out the noises from the ongoing party so you can hyperfocus on every single sound that passes hyunjin’s lips. your lips wrap around his length like a glove, providing him with the most perfect amount of friction. you pick up the pace in order to get him there faster, ignoring the slight cramping in your wrist.

“y/n i-” one of his hands lets go of the duvet and wraps around the back of your head, “i think i’m gonna-” he cuts himself off with a cry of desperation. 

with reluctance you pull your lips off of his cock, continuing to jerk him with your mouth agape and tongue sticking out. with a needy, high-pitched moan that he does nothing to try to suppress, hyunjin pumps his load into your waiting mouth.

his cum is pure and white like the snow falling softly outside of the bedroom window. it sits hot and heavy on your tongue as you rise from your spot on the floor, watching with hungry eyes as hyunjin’s pink-stained chest heaves sighs of pleasure before you press your lips to his. both of your mouths open automatically, his tongue slipping past your teeth allowing him to taste himself. your tongues swap semen and saliva and you reluctantly pull away when you need to swallow and regain your breath.

the view of hyunjin panting and covered in a sheen of sweat, his own cum seeping from the corners of his mouth, is a sight to behold. you’ve never laid eyes on anything so sinful yet so holy and beautiful at the same time - your panties become unbearably wet. 

hyunjin stares at you with eagle eyes as you rid yourself of your clothing, tossing each garment on top of his so a small pile is formed on the floor. 

in one swift move you’re on top of him, knees digging into the firm mattress on either side of his bony hips. without saying a word you line his cock, that’s already semi-hard again, up with the soaked hole of your pussy before sinking down his shaft. the two of you whine and groan into eachothers mouths at the sensation, and you still when your hips are flush with his. 

“i don’t… i don’t think i’m gonna last long,” hyunjin whines so pathetically you go weak in the knees. ugh! you wanna lick him all over. 

“that’s okay,” you coo while running your fingers through his hair, “just want you to feel good.”

grasping his shoulders for stability, you temptingly grind your pelvis against his. the tip of his cock is nestled deep inside of you that it makes you feel so unbelievably full and content. it’s moments like these where you wish to be consumed by hyunjin, wish to hold him and be in his hold forever and ever. 

the slick, wet sounds of you fucking hyunjin raw fill the room, your cunt sucking him deeper and deeper with each and every roll of your hips. your vision goes blurry when he attaches his soft lips to your breast, switching between sucking on it gently and using his tongue to tease your sensitive nipple.

the soft whimpers and please go faster’s that your boyfriend emits encourage you to pick up the pace, your hip bones knocking against his with each gyration. by now your clit is begging for attention so you lower your hand to press quick, somewhat careless circles into it, hissing at the pleasure it provides. 

the need to cum begins to creep its way into your senses: your vision becomes spotted and blurry, your legs begin to quiver and shake, the pit in your lower abdomen grows bigger and bigger threatening to swallow you whole. hyunjin continues to sloppily suck on your tit, the sensation going straight to your aching cunt.

no words need to be exchanged in order for each of you to know that the other is close. it’s evident in the way your movements become more frantic desperate and in the way hyunjin’s blunt nails dig into the flesh of your thighs, his jaw going slack against your breast. 

a few more movements and you reach your orgasm, muffling a lewd and graphic moan by biting down on hyunjin’s shoulder. for several moments it feels as if you’re on cloud nine. sparks fly behind your closed eyelids and the ringing in your eyes is loud enough to block out the sound of the party (which you almost forgot about) but not the increasingly loud moans coming from hyunjin.  you can hear and feel him cumming a few seconds after you, his stomach tensing as he cries out for you.

he spills his seed inside of you and you shudder, feeling incredibly warm and worn out. 

with limbs feeling like lead, you lift yourself off of hyunjin before collapsing onto the mattress, the duvet cover immediately clinging to your back that’s damp with sweat. you feel hyunjin’s cum slowly begin to seep out of you and you cringe, knowing that you’re going to have to explain and apologize to felix (or whoever the owner of this room is).

beside you, hyunjin works to get his breathing back under control, his eyes closed with a blissed-out expression on his face.

“i don’t wanna get up,” he whispers into the dark room.

“so don’t.”

the two of you lie there, basking in the post-orgasm bliss that  puts you on the verge of sleep. the room smells of sex and sweat and you can’t help the small smile that makes its way onto your face, knowing that there’s no other way you’d rather spend ringing in the new year. 

you hear him moving before you feel his touch. the soft tips of his fingers caress your clammy palms before intertwining with yours, an affectionate move that has your cheeks flushing and makes you wonder how did i get so god damn lucky?

if it weren’t for hyunjin your ivy league studies would be filled with empty days and empty nights. you somehow managed to find solace in a sensitive, 5’10” boy who teases you and then whines when you tease him back. on days where the cold seems to be unbearable he keeps you warm with his skin on your skin, his lips on your lips, his heart to your heart. 

without him you’d be stuck at a prestigious school filled with prestigious people pursuing a prestigious degree that you’re not sure you even like, yet he somehow makes you forget all of that. 

and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*