#but also they sometimes talk to me when I'm not thinking about them

[lifedaiiry]

Here is a MASSIVE guide to those curious:

Apeshit: Violently crazy. You are setting buildings on fire and punching babies.

Batshit: "Woah, crazy". Grandma is dyeing her hair blue. Playing loud music at the library.

Chicken shit: You're a coward, but not afraid. You can't take responsibility.

Talking shit: Spreading gossip/rumors/lies/insults too much.

Ratshit also means bad quality.

No shit: Also said as "No shit, sherlock!" which means "That's so obvious!"

Jackshit: Nothing. "I don't have jackshit!"

Holy Shit: "Wow that is so shocking I never expected that!!"

Dipshit: You are dumb

Tough Shit: You either like it the way it is, or leave

Good shit: a good thing / good quality

Shit on a shingle: An American food, not a saying or slang

THE shit (emphasis on the word "The"): The thing you are talking about is perfect. Never about people.

This shit / that shit: This thing / that thing but with cursing

Shit out of luck: There is no hope of success

I've got shit / I ain't got shit: I have nothing

Shit stirrer: troublemaker

I shit you not: I'm not lying/I'm not joking

he/she/they are built like a brick shit house: They are either very strong or very fat

shit faced: extremely drunk (cannot be used for drugs)

shit for brains: you're really stupid

cut the shit: stop lying/stop being silly

shitting bricks: you're horrified

Scared shitless: you're afraid

shit-eating grin: A smug look

I don't know shit: I don't know anything

in deep shit: you are in the worst kind of trouble

when shit hits the fan: When things go wrong

full of shit: someone is lying

lose my shit/she lost her shit: They suddenly became explosive with anger

to give a shit: to care

Are you shitting me? Are you kidding me?

No shit? (with an emphases on being asked as a question) Wow, really? That's surprising.

start shit/starting shit/to start shit: to cause trouble

for shits and giggles: when someone does something for no reason at all. Doesn't have to be humorous but can be.

I don't give a shit: I don't care

"he/she/they are on my shitlist now" I hate them

shoot the shit: wasting time by talking about nothing important

shitshow: it was a disaster. For example: "Well, that concert was a shitshow, am I right?"

shitload: a lot of things (never about people. Just objects)

Hot shit: always said as "He thinks he's hot shit" or "She thinks she's hot shit" or "They think they're hot shit" it means these people think they're all cool but it's not true

shit ton: a lot of things (same as shitload)

shit happens: Life happens that way, sometimes, and we cannot control it.

shit just got real: things are about to get serious/things are about to be terrible. Sometimes used sarcastically.

piece of shit: terrible person

I've got shit to do/I ain't got shit to do: I have nothing to do

shitpost: A funny post on social media

shithead: you're dumb

to shit on something: to make fun of something or say how terrible it is

You've gotta be shitting me! You've gotta be kidding me!

Well, no shit. This one is tricky. If said in a certain tone, it can mean they agree with you but they're being coy about it. Example: "I think everyone should have human rights." "Well, no shit." Usually their voice gets slightly higher at the end of "shit".

get your shit together: take responsibility, seek therapy, and do better. It means all of those things at once.

you ain't shit: you're worthless or you're not as cool as you think you are

Shit's real / shit's real, man: things are intense in the world/situation or whatever you said, they agree with it

Fuck that shit: "I have no respect for that thing/rule/way of life anymore"

let me know if I missed anything ^__^

english slang is awful i would hate to be learning this shit. like the word shit. something can be horseshit or bullshit which means it's a lie. but cow shit is just poop. and something can be dogshit which means it's really bad quality. but cat shit is just poop.

[legendofmorons]

Warriors and Wild who are painful reminders of the past for eachother BUT they still care. Give me brothers that would do ANYTHING for eachother BUT have a ton of almost matching baggage neither enjoys examining.

Warriors who does make Wild think of the army. Wars makes Wild think of the worst nights of his life without meaning to. Wars moves and talks like the knights Wild knows, but the knights Wild knows are HORRIBLE.

Wild Recognizes that Wars is NOT those knights. He Recognizes that Wars isn't trying to dredge up the past. He Recognizes that while he hates how effective Warrior's Captin's Voice is that Wars rarely uses it on purpose and that sometimes its good that there's that voice.

Warriors who looks at Wild and sees so many lost soilders who were still hopeful. He sees Wild and he Recognizes that the champion IS smart, and strategizes even if Wars can't always choose the same strategies. Wars looks at Wild and sees all the traits the army crushes out and is maybe even Jealous of how much easier it is for Wild to let himself have emotions. (Wether Wild actually has it easier around feeling or not is up to interpretation but Wars IS on the outside looks in...)

Wars KNOWS he can depend on Wild to step up if things go south and the plan goes out the window. He knows Wild is kind, adaptable, and capable even if he doesn't agree with all the decisions. Wars Knows Wild isn't trying to dredge up the past.

Give me Warriors and Wild who (while accurate or not) see eachother as mirrors of the past... but maybe hope for the future.

Warriors is not just a good knight and hero. He's a good and loyal man. He's got lots of integrity, and he's a good leader. Wild appreciates that most of the time, warriors can be trusted to help pull everyone through. Wild admires the easy (EXTERNAL) confidence and the ability to plan in such detail.

Wild is not just a bit of a free spirit who adores adventure, he's a kind and hardworking man. He's canonicaly good with kids (see both LU comic when he's around Wind AND Totk where we learn Wild was a teacher), he's friendly, and he's incredibly fast on his feet (physical and mental!). Wars admires his wilderness survival skills and his ability to put people at ease. The captain appreciates the work Wild does.

Give me Wars and Wild who admire eachother. Yes, they cause unpleasant memories sometimes, and yes they both Certainly annoy eachother because some of their personality traits clash a bit, but they Care about eachother.

Wild and Wars may not agree on strategy but they're able to see the value in the other ideas. They may not be best friends, they may argue over tidyness sometimes and they may even argue about authority and how far that extends bur that dosen’t mean they don't care.

For every bad memory, there's a gesture to help.

For every clash and argument there's still the trust that they want the best for eachother and the group.

Even with the distance that may very well exist between them, they are still brothers, and they are still able to step in for each other.

Wars almost never under estimates Wild. (Critical observation.)

Wild rarely puts everything on Wars. (Independence.)

Also if Wars found out about the way Wild usually (fanon?) ended up selectively Mute and in the army PRE CALMITY, the captain would have a FIT.

Give me Wild and Warriors who stay up together on the worst nights and maybe they don't have some great big philosophical conversation but they are there for eachother and a reminder that the army DIDN'T take and break everything.

I'm not sure this is coherent... my head hurts so much I can feel it in my hair...

[katebisxop]

touch-starved ava headcanons

tags: absolute fluff, gender unspecified reader

a/n: i will never stop talking about her

ꕥ — considering for a huge part of her life she was unstable, i feel like physical touch would definitely be a big thing for ava and her partner

ꕥ — she always HAS to be touching you in some way, shape, or form. and i mean ALWAYS

ꕥ — it doesn't matter how: her knee bumping yours, legs touching under the table, pinkies intertwined, her hands clasped together with yours, her head on your shoulder and vice versa

ꕥ — even at night when you're sleeping she either has to be cuddling or at least in contact with you throughout

ꕥ — (additionally, do NOT leave the bedroom while she's asleep. you have to wake her up and tell her you're getting up. i feel like she'd freak if she woke up one day and you're just gone)

ꕥ — her touchiness/slight clinginess is brought on by her fear of losing control of her phasing again. she's scared that not only will she phase out, she'll never be able to hold you ever again :((

ꕥ — she might be great at handing out jabs but she's just a little cutie

ꕥ — also i think she really does not gaf about the other thunderbolts' reaction to her pda.

ꕥ — you'll know she's aware of them staring if she's glaring or makes a comment (it's usually directed at walker..)

ꕥ — they're honestly getting sick of seeing her all cuddly with you and then you leave and she gets all snarky again 😭 like yes they're getting closer as a team but that doesn't mean ava's going to be all gooey and mushy with them 🫠

ꕥ — aside from wanting to hold you all the time you can't tell me ava doesn't just want to be held sometimes. let her be the little spoon. pls hold this baby she deserves all the love ❤️‍🩹

ꕥ — on the other hand she enjoys using her phasing powers on you as well.

ꕥ — you'll go in to kiss her and then she'll phase away and then gets amused by your annoyed expression lol

ꕥ — also what is privacy?? ava'll make her way into any room you're in, no matter where you are or what you're doing

ꕥ — (the first few times she did this were SUCH a fright)

ꕥ — kinda unrelated but she might be a pet name gal. it might just be me projecting but imagine that lovely voice of hers calling you cute little nicknames i'm- 🫠🫠

ꕥ — but yeah. clingy ava my beloved pls never die ❤️

[seewetter]

The only point of contention for me would be -- to use the cleaning metaphor -- what if people intentionally come into your kitchen after you've cleaned and revert all your progress? And what if you've identified the cause?

Cleaning the kitchen anyway can be good for your soul, I suppose.

But all too often people will do the immediate improvements without asking how to make them both lasting and sufficiently supported by responsible people so that if the improvements are flawed they can be reverted but if the improvements are good nobody can tamper with them.

Actually, I really dislike the kitchen metaphor, because it only acknowledges *you* (or *me*) and not the role of everyone involved. The "dirt" isn't accidental, it was dirtied on purpose. The people that did so are referring to the dirt as "cleaning". Some are uninformed, some are malicious...and some have been warned against our cleaning efforts, told that we are utterly evil, malicious and manipulative and they don't trust even the most harmless cleaning job you can imagine. They don't trust ideas outside their circle openly, their trust in others has been systematically undermined. Every act of kindness or cruelty further deepens their sense that manipulation or evil is at work. In the kitchen metaphor, this is just another type of dirt to chip away at -- the people involved are no longer people, their misguided cleaning efforts are no longer expressible through the metaphor because all they are is passive "dirt", at best their activity could be expressed as "dust collecting in a corner" or "mold growing" or something.

I'm not trying to critique the mindset of hope or the desire to fix even small problems even when all is bleak. The mindset can be helpful. It usually is. It is far better to do anything than to freeze and wallow in misery. It is definitely good to look for any opportunity to help -- and whenever you feel able to, to seize those opportunities.

What bothers me is instead that talking about cleaning a kitchen just doesn't capture the situation.

Let's think about the types of knowledge/power and how they are distributed.

Are you struggling with a disability? With a health issue? With a mental illness? Does neurodivergence present challenges? Does being fat present challenges? Or are you nearing old age and your body and/or mind aren't what they used to be? Perhaps you are a child and your body and mind are (sometimes rightly, but sometimes wrongly) judged to be incapable or overly capable. All these people ultimately don't struggle from non-descript "dirt", they struggle with judgments made about the health and capability of their bodies. The elderly, fat, neurodivergent and mentally ill all deal with doctors, diagnoses, etc. There's people that view all these issues separately, as different piles of dirt ("sanism", "ageism", "sizeism" etc) but technically, whether your deformity gets you called ugly or your health issues aren't taken seriously, it all revolves around health and ideas about the healthy body.

And we can see these kinds of parallels with other issues, too.

--- Tangent (skip if disinterested) ---

Movements for digital privacy share some peculiar overlap with movements against prisons and police brutality and the state, because the privacy movements deal with surveillance -- and surveillance isn't just "dirt", it's how governments aim to control their citizens (of course economic actors also try and control people, but states seem more interested in this).

Conversations about race and racism revolve around place and belonging, around origin, around "outsiders", real and imagined. For example, Islamophobia is racist because it takes cultural differences and uses them to attack people. When the bigots tell a Navajo woman to "go back to your country", the idea of place that racism relies on is on full, awkward display.

And then there's the conversations queer folks and women share in common about gender. The nuclear family and it's "family values", there are connections that can be drawn here. Here also we have the rights of sex workers, the conversations around kinks and "weird" sex, the things that are perceived as threats to the reproduction of society.

Then there's environmental issues, which can be radically different from each other, but also share a lot in common.

And economic issues, of course.

--- END Tangent ---

And when we look at these roughly six fields of knowledge, we realize that they aren't just dirt.

You can't understand racism's history without understanding that slavery was a business, that colonialism was "good for the economy", that taking people's homes and resources is something that involves goods changing hands and is intensely economic. You can't understand environmental damage until you understand that the mess industry causes is so monumental that the small mess I'd like you to start cleaning ...has to do with the small steps to fix the pollution the economy causes, not your own personal pollution. Health care costs money and the expectation of what healthy looks like is tied to making people money. Everything the state does, from evictions to arresting protesters to spying on you, is motivated, in part, by corporate lobbying, by "the interests of the state" (which are interests in goods, economic growth, and in protecting wealth). The idea of the reproduction of society along specific lines is the only exception here...but even there we discover that the biggest dirt in our gender kitchen are economic barriers that entrench conservative attitudes.

So I really really doubt that There is no "THIS is the MOST IMPORTANT part." is good advice for the 21st century.

Our kitchen has a dirt-flinging machine in the center of the room. And the machine has people maintaining it, convincing kitchen cleaners to stop cleaning dirt or to keep cleaning dirt but ignore the machine. Or to focus on the dirt they can clean and maybe some day a miracle will happen and the machine will be dealt with.

The idea that all problems are equal makes me think progressives just have no genuine idea of how to fix dirt.

A wise girl once said that classism will disappear if poverty is gone -- and I think that this is a good way of thinking about dirt. There is dirt you will regret having cleaned because you were going to throw out the entire stovetop anyway. If you can identify these MOST IMPORTANT parts of life and make little efforts to improve them, you will live with far fewer regrets. There are so many ways to end up wasting ones time with cleaning. Politics that becomes overly personal often just makes you judgmental and punitive. Politics that becomes overly focused on crises often makes you short-sighted and narrowly focused. I can't guide you through to the perfect way of improving the world in one Tumblr post (and there likely is no perfect way) but don't say there aren't more or less important changes, because there are.

Like...the whole idea of using the word "radical" is to talk about the roots of problems. You needn't want violence or be involved in mega-changes to see the value of addressing mostly these elephants in the room. Because trust me, an elephant in your kitchen is probably important to try and let out. And how do we eat the elephant? One bite at a time.

Daily reminder that we do not actually live in a dystopian movie put the apocalypse down and back away slowly. You know when your cleaning a room and you pull everything out of it's draws to sort through it and you're like "what the fuck have I done I'm never going to be able to tidy all of this" I think that's the stage we're at in the world. Thanks to social media we've pulled out all the messed up shit from the cupboards of the world, it was always there but now we can see it and we're going to have to sort it all out we made this mess and we can fix it. Falling to the floor sobbing will not clean a crusty room. A group of people working systematically (preferably with music in the background) will.

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

I think the weirdest experience I ever had in this fandom was when I made a character for an rp and like a week in someone started "kinning" her and claiming they were her in a past life.

At first I was confused but kinda just ignored them, then they started "headcanoning" (I wouldn't even really call it that) her as a gay transmasc...even though she's canonically a cis lesbian. Apparently since this person was ALSO a gay transmasc and they insisted they were my oc, then that meant that she HAD to be the same. Obviously there's nothing wrong with headcanoning a character that way but when they're canonically a lesbian and SOMEONE ELSE'S OC that's just insane. (also just to be clear I don't gave anything against kinning, I don't really know enough about it to form an opinion)

I continued rping with her for the next few weeks and just tried to ignore them-the person would make a few weird comments sometimes and didn't seem to get the hint that I didn't want them talking about my character weirdly in front of me but things really went sideways when she got a girlfriend.

This other person LOST THEIR SHIT. Had a crashout in the general channel about how I was "portraying him wrong" and "erasing his identity". Said that my oc would NEVER be in love with her girlfriend and she actually had feelings for a completely different male character who she literally talked to three times.

A couple people got tired of it and asked me to just listen and change my oc to make them shut up but the owners decided to just kick them out. Everything was at peace and I continued role-playing for as long as that server stayed up.

I'm so sorry my beloved Osprey. I can only hope you're not still being used for strange purposes without my knowledge

.

[subrosasteath]

Me (lovingly) at all the people who fully believed Coiny went back to normal this episode

Like... Okay let's break this down. Break down beneath the cut as it's long! Spoilers for BFDIA 19.

The first shot of the episode is Coiny hiding his face at the bottom of the stairs. It's obviously supposed to set up how he's feeling this episode, although later he plays it off as a joke, saying he was "napping" and moving right into being over dramatic about missing Cake at Stake. If you believe him, this set up now becomes a joke.

If you don't this set up now becomes a way to show the audience how he's feeling inside, as he doesn't seem to want to outright say or show any animosity towards Pin, especially in front of the other contests. Pin even expresses confusion the first time they talk because the first thing Coiny does is compliment her - saying "nice find!" about the new host. The fact they make her look confused at all is a hint in and of itself that we should be doubting how Coiny's acting right now - yes, it also works for her character, as she obviously didn't expect him to want to positively interact with her, but the emphasis on the confusion should nudge the viewers to think "hey.. wait a minute..."

Another quick thing - Tennis ball says Coiny's been "isolating in the tower for a while now", not specifying how long, meaning it's possibly Coiny's been hiding out in there for much longer than "an afternoon nap" as he says.

Pin and Coiny don't interact again until the super market gag. When Coiny suggests the super market, and Pin accuses him of trying to trick her, Coiny says "would I ever lie to you?" to which Pin says "Yeah." Meaning It's possible Pin suspects Coiny of lying about how he feels. This is another hint to the audience - Pin is telling us that Coiny can be a liar and a trickster sometimes, and that we can't take everything he says at face value (Eg, How long was that afternoon nap, buddy?). This can also just be seen as a reference to the fact Coiny is a mischief maker, again, making it easy to write it off as him being his "normal self".

Pin goes in anyway - this could be seen as two things: Either she doesn't care if it's a trick or not (implying she doesn't view Coiny as a threat) or she knows it could be a trick, but seeing as he's not being antagonistic towards her so far, decides to trust him anyway (Coiny has never done Pin wrong before, why would he now?)

But Why? Why would Coiny offer Pin a huge giant super market?

I think It's possible he wanted to show her that he can still be helpful. They don't have to be allies, but he's still useful, and getting rid of him would be getting rid of a huge resource of support in the games. He wants Pin to see the value in him, so he offers her everything he can. Look, we don't have to be enemies! He's trying to convince her not to hurt him again, because look at everything he can give her! Isn't it worth it? ...Isn't it?

Or, it's possible he was setting her up, so that he could knock her down later. A taste of her own medicine, if you will. Coiny expected Pin to buy at least 2 things, both of which she'd need for her basket, only for him to swoop in and steal them from her after, putting them in his own basket and possibly winning the challenge. He wanted Pin to feel the betrayal. A metaphorical way of pushing her off the platform. A way to say See, this is how it felt, but now we're even and you understand me, so we can go back to normal, right?

I'm excited for what happens next episode - I wonder if we'll get a Coiny break down before or after Pin's inevitable elimination.

[rex-rambles]

HEY BADDIE!! Asking for a friend if you’ll maybe potentially ever write a Lando soulmate au as well?? 🥹🥹 I’m loving the soulmate universe 🥀🥀

Hello!! It has taken me so long to figure out what I want to do for Lando's soulmate trait (same with Charles) but I have something in the works...no promises of when I'm getting this one out, but here's a sneak peek!

When you turned eighteen, nothing obvious had changed. Your family had stayed up to see the clock strike midnight, to see what soulmate trait you'd get, carrying on the tradition of colour-blindness, or maybe a timer, like your cousin had gotten.

Instead, you saw no change, no secret mark appearing on your skin.

You just felt disappointed, and somewhere in the universe, in yourself, the feeling of disappointment returned to you.

It was always hard to explain that you could feel the same emotion as your soulmate, but from that day forward, you were incredibly attuned to whatever your soulmate was feeling. Alongside your own, everyday experiences was a different soul tucked into your heart, at the back of your consciousness, morphing and changing to a life you'd never seen.

Joy was the most obvious feeling, the most easily translatable to others. It was a smile that bubbled up out of nowhere, so pure and so soft that it wrapped around you and never wanted to leave. Anger was short bursts of frustration or deep, blinding things, a rage that lasted a week before it began to simmer.

If someone were to ask, now, what your soulmate was experiencing, you think it might be frustration, some kind of annoyance directed out into the world, and through you. And, while you couldn't help but be annoyed alongside them, it didn't stop the joy that emanated from you, because you had a soulmate, and you knew exactly how to make them feel better.

-

“No soulmate trait?” Oscar asks, and Lando hums over a ridiculously large bowl of salad.

“It makes no sense!” He answers, stabbing at the lettuce in front of him with a vengeance. “Like not a mark, no colour changing shit, just…nothing. I think it’s one of those things where you have to touch people to know.” 

“So that’s why you’re so clingy,” Oscar answers sympathetically, and Lando takes a crouton and throws it at him.

Then, just as soon as Lando begins to feel genuinely resentful, a soft wave of calm comes over him. He had joked, once, that his heart and his brain were capable of feeling two different emotions at once. Sometimes, he was furious, but in his heart, he knew he would be fine. Othertimes, his heart was just so happy for no reason. No one really understood what he was talking about, but Lando didn't mind. He was rather proud of his emotional intelligence, being able to decipher what he was really feeling under the surface. He was maturing into a proper adult who could rationalize their thoughts and feelings, but then again, proper adults don't throw croutons in dining halls. “Does your heart ever get happy when your brain is angry?"

“What?” 

“Like I was pissed about the soulmate thing, and now I feel all calm. Like my heart knew I was being stupid.” It was like someone reminding him to breathe, to think of the better alternatives, like the fact that his soulmate was probably out there, just with a rare trait that would make it all the more worthwhile.

Oscar, unfazed by both the strange question and the crouton, thinks for a moment before speaking. “I think you’re just old enough to know not to be mad about things. Or you have other things to focus on.” 

“Maybe.” Years later, Lando would look back at this moment and bang his head into a table, but in the present, he continues to eat his salad and ponder why no one's investigated the psychology of the heart.

a/n: I really wanted a meet-cute style soulmate trait for Lando, so I'm going to have him being clueless and emotional paired with the reader being super attuned to people's emotions, because let's face it, that boy is clueless and also needs a hug

[adelina-shifts]

𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘴 /ꪮ 𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗲 ꔫ

reblog for ask! ᡣ𐭩 what scents remind you of your relationship? ᡣ𐭩 how does your s/o show love? ᡣ𐭩 what does the winter season look like for you two? ᡣ𐭩 what do summers look like for you + your s/o? ᡣ𐭩 when you think of them, what is the first song or lyric that sparkles into your mind? why does this remind you of them or your relationship? ᡣ𐭩 how do you celebrate your achievements together? ᡣ𐭩 how do you two spice up your relationship when things are feeling dull or monotonous in your lives? ᡣ𐭩 how does your s/o help soothe or ground you when you’re feeling overwhelmed, stressed, or anxious? ᡣ𐭩 how does your s/o make your inner child feel safe? ᡣ𐭩 what makes you want to “stick” with your s/o for the rest of your lives?

lemons and leather one summer when we were kids, i created a lemonade stand to raise money for non-profit wildlife and environmental organizations. Lorenzo (my brother) laughed at me, but Benjamin (s/o) gave me this look as if he was seeing me or rather the person i would become. that day smelled like heaven and freshly squeezed lemon. he always smells like his cologne (teakwood and leather), and yet somehow, a faint lemony scent follows him everywhere and i whenever i get a whiff i sometimes wonder if it is on purpose.

affection Benjamin had always been one of few words, he's quiet around people he doesn't know very well, if at all. he's an artist, he loves sketching and writing, sometimes even a highlighted quote in a book is how he'll show his affection. he's also a hoverer; he's not talkative but he's always near. he's shows his love quietly, quality time, physical touch, and small gifts!

comfort in company both Benji and i are homebodies, we are friends when i shift, so we tend to not spend as much time alone as we do with our friend group. when we're at social gatherings we stay close to each other our of comfort and habit. we'd both rather stay in by the fire and order takeout during winter holiday.

the summer versions of us despite our lack of need to socialize, we do have a pretty big friends group–especially during the summer when we head down to Cousins. we can typically be found going on morning muffin/coffee runs, eating lunch out by our pools, and on the beach at bonfires after noon. there's the deb ball every beach season and organized beach-clean-ups we help set-up and take part in. it might be the summer air, or maybe it's just the magic of Cousins, but we come out of our shell this time of year.

a song: a memory "It was summer when i saw your face, looked like a teenage runaway..." (Rollercoaster, Bleachers). this song always pops into my head when i think of Benjamin. yes, we share a love for the classics, but we also love a good summer song. when i hear this song, i instantly think of our relationship and what could possibly change this summer.

love in the little things when i receive an award or accomplish a goal i'd set out for myself, i always celebrate with my family and friends (which includes Benji). he'll normally slip me a piece of paper or a small present privately. when he receives an award i'm more vocal about my congratulations. he gets embarrassed about it, but i know he secretly adores it. this happens with birthdays and holidays as well–except Halloween, we're both October-maniacs and are not afraid to show it.

summer of what ifs our entire lives it's been this "will they, won't they?" kind of relationship. i've known i've had a crush on him since the age of 13, this summer i'm being a bit more bold about myself–i'm not just looking at him anymoe–at least i'm trying not to. he's got this silent energy about him that keeps me wondering if he sees me more than his best friends little sister.

held, just long enough i'm typically very nervous before giving a speech–i do my best to be a good advocate for climate change and how it affects the environment. i am the vice president of key club and–and with that comes a lot of public speaking–which intensifies my anxiety. only my close family and friends know this about me, they encourage me with smiles and nice words, but, Benji, he always takes a moment to hold my hand. he'll squeeze it three times before letting go, almost like a quiet countdown.

the echo of addie everyone calls me Adelina or Lina. Benji's the only one that calls me Addie. he picked it up around age 9. my father had just congratulated me and had said, "adda girl" to which Ren and Benji had overheard and snickered at. i'd made a face at them and right after Benji had said, "it kind of fits, though, Adda–Addie." at the time i'd hated the nickname, but as we got older, it became one of the few things i still had of my childhood. he only calls me Adelina when he's mad at me, but Benji's never mad at me.

before we knew what it meant for me, it's always been him. he was there when i was born, my brother's best friends. the boy next door. i grew up with him. i laughed with him. he was there for my losses and my wins. he saw me through every phase i've ever had. he knew everything about me even when he didn't know anything at all. i was his before we even knew what that meant.

ib: @junoshifts

[alexanderwales]

are you like, perfectly sure you're neurotypical

Depends on how you define terms. I struggle with anxiety and depression, but have only ever had a clinical diagnosis for depression. The way I've seen the term used on tumblr, "neurodivergent" generally does not include depression under the umbrella, but maybe I'm wrong there: I've seen it overwhelmingly applied to ADHD and autism.

I am fairly sure I'm not autistic. About a year ago we were having my son tested for autism, so I spent a bunch of time looking at the diagnostic criteria, and while that's not really the same as taking tests and speaking with specialists myself, there's a whole lot of things there where I just think "no, this really does not apply to me". I've also met a lot of autistic people, and don't see myself in them, so if I were autistic I would be at the end of the spectrum where it's very difficult to actually tell.

I'm also fairly sure I don't have ADHD. I struggle with executive function sometimes, and definitely hyperfixate on things, but I think that's part of a pattern of addictive behaviors. (And yes, ADHD is often comorbid with addiction.) I think my hyperfixation is subclinical and within the bounds of neurotypical.

Anything else, I don't know, and haven't really looked into.

When I was a teenager I was institutionalized after a suicide attempt, and so spent about a month 1) with therapists watching me carefully and 2) around other people with various mental issues that were obvious to me. And while I think it would be incredibly likely for them and subsequent therapists to have missed a diagnosis, I've been around the mental health professionals enough that I would have expected them to float the possibility.

I would say that I have a cluster of personality traits that might make people waggle their eyebrows, but a lot of it is well within the range of neurotypical. I'm rules-oriented, I like research, I like evidence, I hate being wrong, I can be overly serious about things, I usually prefer explicit and clear communication as opposed to leaving things unspoken or implied, but like ... I don't know. I think I see a lot of people post stuff that goes "my autistic ass:" and then a completely normal human emotion or experience? Like "my autistic ass didn't know she was flirting", and then I sit there shaking my head because this is extremely relatable to almost everyone, you can go into any /r/AskReddit thread and there will be thousands of people talking about their experience with the opacity of flirtation. If I were self-diagnosing, I think I would have to reach toward stuff that is just squarely within the realm of the neurotypical.

tl;dr: neurotypical unless you count depression, which most people don't seem to (?), and above the baseline of normal anxiety, but probably not clinically so

[delirious-and-slightly-murderous]

Ok, just, WTF? Dude sometimes I hate this app. (And I'm gonna be a BITCH, but this just gives me soooo much USAian vibes. If this person is not from there, sorry for being a bitch. But if they are, I'm sorry but I can't with your fucking country.)

And maybe I'm just getting annoyed over nothing, and I misunderstood the tags. But I don't think that's the case.

(Will probably delete this later cause I really don't wanna pick fights)

But how the F do you go from this person used to read porn in class, to they don't know maths and are a conservative?

How???

Talk about illiteracy.

First of all, they did NOT let me play gameboy in math class. That's the point, going into class they did not take it away cause it wasn't a phone, but I still wasn't supposed to be using it. Hence the hiding it with the pencil case, so the teacher couldn't see it and what I was doing.

But okay, I'll give it to you that I did not explain that part very well. Sorry, my mistake.

But! I'm saying highschool, starting 7th grade. What kid doesn't get bored during class and do other stuff? Specially at 13 years old? Because newsflash, I was good at math. So when my teacher had to go over the same explanation 3 to 4 times to make sure everyone got it, while I had already understood the first time. Well I got bored outta my mind.

Now, I'm in Uni, I'm a Biologist, and maths are a BIG part of what I do. So do not presume to talk to me about statistics and math literacy.

And a conservative? A CONSERVATIVE???? Fuck that! I'm not about to go into my personal views and politics on a Tumblr post. But no, just no. I'm a firm believer that conservatives are just heinous people who do not care about other people's suffering.

You don't know me and you have no reason to know this, but I'm the furthest thing from conservative you can get.

But, ALSO, some people are just bad at maths, and that is okay. Not understanding statistics doesn't automatically mean you can't understand the socio-political phenomenon at play behind them. And it also doesn't make you a conservative. I have lots of friends at Uni, from the Arts and Humanities, who understand jack shit about maths, and are some of the most politically and socially cultured people I know. People who couldn't hope to read even a simple graph, but are there on the front lines fighting for everyone else's rights and against conservatives and far right shits.

I agree with you that maths are important, I am a scientist first and foremost, how would I not agree? (they are a big part of what I do and what I am). And not understanding math makes people ignorant and dangerous. But maths are also not everything. Generalizing like this is very dangerous and ignorant too.

I'm annoyed, idk, this was totally unnecessary. But I guess I just had to rant.

if there is a screen

ao3 will be seen

[kingsoowolves]

constant | s. es

pairing: Best friend!Eunseok x fem!reader

word count: 9.2k

author's note: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while because I desperately wanna give it a part two, but I don't have the timeeeeeeee :( so if you like this, pretty please tell me and put your foot on my butt so I write it :) Inspired by nothing else but my sick twisted mind full of angst. Hope you enjoy!

contents: Best friends turned to friends with benefits turned to (awkward) best friends again turned to ?????? Angst, semi smut (as in descriptions of first time having sex + heavy make out session with grindind and feeling each other up), and more angst because I'm crazy. Eunseok has a girlfriend on the latter part of this, so there's cheating involved (trigger warning). Reader's father dies when she's very young (more trigger warning). Other riize members + random idols mentioned for worldbuilding. No happy ending (for now).

For as long as you can remember, Song Eunseok has been a constant in your life.

Some of your oldest memories are from when you were around six and, by then, you already spent most of your afternoons on playdates with the boy next door and his mom.

Your mother recounts the day you’ve met when you were both five-year-olds with elaborate detail. After your dad’s sudden death scarred your lives, you moved into a far place where nobody knew you. The day you settled in your new house, your mom took you for a stroll around the neighborhood to get to know the area and you ended up in a playground packed with kids from all ages. 

According to her, you were the one who approached Eunseok. He was a shy boy playing by himself on the sand box with his toy rocket ship when you came over, hair in pigtails with pink ribbons and a gap between your teeth from losing your first baby tooth only a week prior, your face eclipsing the sunlight that hit his forehead. Your mom says that when he looked up, anyone could tell he had just found something brighter than the sun to beam over him.

Or at least that’s what she likes to say to get you both flustered now that you’re young adults.

Nevertheless, since that day you’ve been attached at the hip and it was clear that your bright outspoken personality complemented his quiet observant one. Although the contrast sometimes was a bit too much for people. Sunshine extroverted girl running around with brooding introverted boy? It made no sense for them. When you started getting older and others’ comments and side-eyes got progressively worse, you showed everyone how you could be the cross one if they pushed too far. You spent a lot of time kicking shins and pulling heads full of hair from the boys that bullied Eunseok and the girls who talked bad behind his back just because he was timid. You also talked back to any adult who dared to make a nasty comment about your friendship. By the time you reached middle school, everyone in your little town knew not to mess with you or your friend.

Finally, you were free to play and be with Eunseok to your heart’s content, without having to worry about snide remarks that could upset him. Now you could enjoy your time with your best friend from the whole wide world and not care what people think, because for once they were not announcing it to you. It made the connection between you two much stronger.

You constantly reminisce of days spent with him, learning everything there was to know about each other.

The first thing you learnt about Eunseok was how much he likes the universe. He told you everything about it — how old it is, what it is made of, what humanity knows and does not know about it. He told you scientific discoveries and theories, recited every galaxy, planet, meteorite he could remember the name of and filled your days with interesting facts and anecdotes about his passion. Every word out of his mouth would make you gawk, both because of how amazing it all sounded and because you couldn’t believe he was able to gather that much information at such a young age.

When you’d talk about your future selves, you always wished to become something plain and silly as any girl would say, like an actress or an idol, but Eunseok dreamed of greater professions. He wanted to be an astronaut, an aerospace engineer, an astrophysicist, a project manager. Sometimes you’d feel small and pathetic from how big his dreams were compared to yours. But it was your own mind’s fault, never Eunseok’s. He never viewed you as any less than him just because you had differing interests and specially never made you feel stupid for being a girl.

Eunseok took interest in your hobbies. He let you play dress up with him, loving the cute Sanrio hair pins you put on his head and complimenting you on your make up skills once you were done and he looked at himself in the mirror. He listened to you talk for hours about your favorite artists and retell him the plot of the latest drama you were watching with your mom. He became a fan of anime because of you and you started binge-watching a bunch together. He listened to your music and even made you a personal playlist of your favorite artists one day. And he was also the one who accompanied you to their concerts, buying you merch and sticking by your side, laughing whilst you screamed your lungs out for the people on stage.

Getting to know Eunseok and spending time with him was the best part of your days and when people finally stopped disturbing you about your friendship, you had more time to spend with each other. Though you were so relieved about it that you didn’t prepare yourself for the next big change — high school. 

Puberty and hormones are a funny thing. One day your best friend is the rejected loner nerd everybody seems to look down on. The next day he’s the cute sexy boy-with-thick-framed-glasses that everyone is looking at.

You and Eunseok were never ready for the kind of attention he started to receive in your second year of high school. His once perpetually empty desk nook was now filled to the brim with chocolates on Valentine’s Day and notes with declaration of love. Girls suffered when they didn’t get a gift back from him on White Day and suddenly, without your consent, everybody appointed you as Eunseok’s personal messenger, handing over confessions' letters for him during lectures or even dropping them inside your locker or backpack when you weren’t looking. You hand delivered every single one of them to him, complaining about it the whole time, just to watch him read the contents of each letter and then rip them apart, throwing them in the nearest trash can. Whenever you stared at the shreds of paper inside the bin for a second too long, Eunseok grabbed your wrist and pulled you along to walk out the school's hallways with him.

You were always wondering if he liked the attention or not, but you never asked him about it and you’re sure he would never admit it even if that was the case.

Another thing that you wondered about was what the fuck all the girls abruptly started seeing in him. Up until then, you were the only one who knew how special Eunseok was. But that was because you saw something in him on that first day at the playground nobody else did and you spent years actually growing together with him. You knew Eunseok was a kind soul, a helpful friend and an overall amazing guy, but that was because he let you in.

The girls who were flocking behind him didn’t know that he preferred a mango Melona over a watermelon one. Or that he always double knotted his shoelaces and insisted on you doing the same every time you tripped over your shoes. Or that whenever you came back home together, he waited for you to get inside your house and lock the door before going to his home right beside it. They didn’t know he used to help your mom whenever your car had a mechanical problem or that he tasted every single one of your failed baking recipes, no matter how bad they were. They didn’t know he cooked whole meals with his mother and took care of their garden with his father. Or that whenever your mother took the night shift at the hospital, he made you a lunchbox for dinner and for breakfast. They didn’t know he always grabbed you a strawberry milk at the school’s canteen when they were close to running out. Or that when your first boyfriend broke up with you barely two weeks after you started dating, he comforted and hugged you for hours while you cried in his arms. Or that when you told him you didn’t know if the few memories you have of your father were real or just fabricated from old pictures, videos and stories your mother tells you, he comforted you by saying that your heart remembers him and that was what mattered. 

They didn’t know he loved dad jokes and would hit you with them at least three times a day, making you roll your eyes and laugh with every new one out of his mouth. They didn’t know his gruff voice turned soft and airy when he sang and that, on starry nights, he laid by your side on your backyard lawn and talked about all the constellations in the night sky over your heads. They didn’t even know how athletic he actually was and about how you both went to Sungchan’s house every Wednesday after class where Eunseok proceeded to kick Sungchan’s ass at basketball while you watched and sipped on your bubble tea.

You knew Eunseok, those girls didn’t.

They only saw a hint of a stubble on his jaw and his shoulders getting broader one day and decided he was finally worth the attention when you knew of this fact since day one.

And the possibility that any of those desperate tramps could ever get to know him like you did made your stomach churn. Eunseok’s response to them just bugged you further. He never responded to any advances, but never outright rejected them either. He seemed apathetic about it, and maybe that should’ve told you something, but you couldn’t figure it out now and much less when you were sixteen.

Fortunately, after a while, those girls stopped humiliating themselves looking for the attention he never gave them and things more or less went back to normal, with them labeling him as a pretentious loser and going back to their stupid lives. And you had him all to yourself again.

The next time your relationship with Eunseok changed only happened in the winter break before your last year of school and it was provoked by you. You still don’t know why you did what you did. Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe it was the small list of guys that had already broken your heart by then. Maybe it was just the fear of going to college as a still inexperienced and never desired eighteen-year-old. Maybe it was because you were afraid of the near future, of a life without Eunseok coming just around the corner.

You knew that once you finished high school, he would probably study in Seoul or maybe even go abroad. The life in your little town would never be enough for him. He was too intelligent and dedicated to his studies to not aim high. And you would just stay behind, because you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving your mom alone in the world and because you were never a good student anyway. The thing with being extroverted is that it can land you many contacts, but they won’t mean a thing if you don’t have the qualifications to back them up. Either way, you were stuck there. Eunseok would fly and you would just watch and cheer for him from afar. So you needed something to hold on to, something to completely mark the memories you had together forever.

All you remember is that you were huddled together inside his room, on your weekly movie night, watching an anime Eunseok loved for the thousandth time and you got distracted by his eyelashes, how they softly pressed the skin under his waterline anytime he blinked, how the blue glow from the TV made they seem a tone lighter and smooth to the touch, and how desperately you needed to feel them with your fingertips. Next, you stared at his eyebrows, thick and designed and really pretty. Really really pretty. Like all of him. Then, while he was laughing about something in the movie, you raised your hand as if to mindlessly touch his brows because it was like they were calling to you, but Eunseok caught your wrist mid-movement, pulling back before you could graze his skin.

He gasped and looked at you with wide eyes and you asked him the most ridiculous question that ever came out of your mouth.

“Seok, will you be my first?” You said.

He didn’t ask what you meant, because he knew exactly what you were talking about. He didn’t ask if you were serious, because he knew you were. He didn’t ask if you were sure, because he also knew you were. Because he knew you. One look at your face and he could see the sincerity dripping from your whole being.

“Yes,” he replied a half second later. And then he pulled you in for a kiss.

You would like to say that you kept your calm through all of it, that you didn’t feel shaken or nauseated with nerves and that you did everything exactly like the magazines guided, like your friends talked about when telling their experiences, like the spicy videos you watched late at night showed, like the romantic movies made it seem. You’d like to say that you kissed Eunseok with certainty, that you took off your clothes sensually and that you grabbed his cock the right way.

But Eunseok’s bedroom would beg to differ. The laptop on his study desk saw how your lips faltered over his skin and overheard your frenzied mind wondering if you were doing everything right. His calendar snickered at you while your t-shirt got stuck on your earring on its way off your body and how you fumbled to free the fabric and almost ripped your ear off. The posters on his walls watched your trembling fingers struggling with the buckle on his belt for thirty seconds until Eunseok took pity on you and unfastened it himself. The clock beside his TV looked at your expectant eyes when he deposited kisses on the valley between your breasts and continued going down, down, down. When his fingers inside you were unexpectedly precise in driving you to your first peak and you asked him if he had done that before, the lamp on his nightstand listened to the sound of your disappointed gasp after he said “Yes”. His sheets felt the nervous tugs of your hand whilst you pumped Eunseok’s dick in an unsteady rhythm and at an awkward angle with your other hand. His bed frame picked up on your hoarse moans once he finally slid into you, sounds that only grew louder and raspier with each drive of his hips forward. His mattress could testify to how slick you got in between your legs and about the mess you left behind. His books eavesdropped on you promising to each other in between whimpers that it was only a one time thing, never to happen again, and that it wouldn’t change your friendship. And once your joint orgasm took over you both, the stars stickers on his ceiling shined bright right at your wrecked and fucked out face.

After, when your head was laying on Eunseok’s chest and he started to snore, you reached out and touched his eyebrows and lashes, brushing against them one by one while an indescribable feeling took over you.

You’d also like to say that you kept your promise or that at least you tried to keep it, but two days later you both found ourselves in the same compromising position — naked and on his bed. By the start of the school year, you were meeting up almost everyday and fucking at least for three days out of the week.

Being with Eunseok like that showed you a whole new side of him. Of course he still took care of you in every way possible, but he stopped being so nice and gentle all the time. There was no space for tenderness when he was too busy fucking you from behind, tweaking your peaked nipples, thrusting his cock into your mouth until you gagged on it, collecting your drool to use as lubricant, curling his fingers deep inside you, telling you how much he loved your cunt and begging you to cum for him. But you preferred it this way. You could take his rough fucking.

What you couldn’t handle were the soft moments in between, when he brushed your sweaty hair back and gazed deeply into your eyes, and when he asked in his softest voice if you were feeling good — if he was the reason you felt so good —, and when he told you how much he liked you and how perfect you were for him, and when he admitted he thought about you two like that for so long, and when he murmured sweet words to you like a prayer, and when he caressed your skin as if you were a goddess and he was your faithful servant.

What you really couldn’t handle was Eunseok’s confession three months later. The look on his face when you replied to his "I love you" with “You deserve someone better than me” will haunt you forever. You had never seen him put on his clothes and storm out of your room so fast before.

After that night, you didn’t hook up again and things turned awkward. But Eunseok was still a kind soul, a helpful friend and an overall amazing guy. All he gave you was three weeks of complete radio silence — no texts, no calls, no extracurricular meetings, not even a glance your way during classes. You even stopped going to and coming back from school together. And then on one sunny Tuesday, when you were on your way home in the afternoon, he trailed behind you and eventually your footsteps fell side by side. Eunseok didn’t say a thing whilst your sneakers pressed against the pavement at the same rhythm. You also didn’t dare to speak a single word, afraid any sound would scare him away.

Once you pulled up in front of your neighboring houses he picked some papers from inside his backpack and handed them to you.

“I took a copy of my notes from Calculus III. For that exam on Friday,” he explained.

You grabbed the sheets of paper and looked at his carefully crafted handwriting photocopied on them, how it was gentle and soft like almost everything he did. You looked up at him and asked, “Why are you giving me this?

He shrugged. “Thought you might need it.”

“Does this mean we are friends again?” You asked, your voice hopeful and unsure.

“You’ll always be my best friend, Y/N,” he said and his words carried a sorrow that pained your heart deeply.

Then he turned, climbed the three steps of his front porch and entered his house. He didn’t wait for you to get inside your home and lock the door like he used to. He just left you there. You felt relieved that he put himself over you at least once. Even if it was also his way of forgiving you.

It took a while for you to feel comfortable with each other again. And even still, it wasn’t the same as before. You had to find a new normal.

The new normal came with not having Eunseok doing so many nice things to you. He didn’t let you get the last pizza slice anymore or save you a seat on school’s assemblies you always got late to. Your once duo movie nights turned into something you’d do with a group of friends, at least one other person to ease the obvious tension still lingering in between you. And that’s when group gatherings, either going out with friends or meeting at someone’s house, became even more common. Because being alone with him in an enclosed space was definitely off limits. You needed to fill all the space in between you with people and things so there wouldn't be any left for thoughts and feelings.

The new normal also included saying goodbye to Eunseok at the end of the year. He ended up enrolled at Pusan National University’s science program and you stayed at your town studying tourism in a local uni. His college was still close to your town, it was only one hour and ten minutes drive from your house to his dorm, maybe one and a half if there was traffic. And he came home every other weekend, where you’d often meet and be your childhood selves together again. Still, not having him part of your everyday life hurt you more than you thought it would.

Then, two months after your second year at college started, he showed up at your house late on a Friday night, all merry and giddy. You immediately knew something was up.

“I have to tell you something,” he said under the light of your entryway while he took off his shoes.

“What is it?” You asked, taking a step back to prepare yourself for the news.

“I have a girlfriend,” he whispered, breaking your heart in a million pieces.

Her name is Sian and she is everything you aren’t — lovable, smart, caring, and with the same interests as Eunseok.

When he brought her home one weekend, she was warm and kind. She talked to you as if you were a close friend and apparently did not care a bit that you, another woman, are Eunseok’s best friend. Also, she makes Eunseok grin like no one else does and you’re grateful for that, because his smiles are hard to come by ever since that night you told him he deserves someone better. Turns out he did find someone better. And you can’t even hate her because she is a truly good person. But you do envy her.

That’s what you’re doing right now, envying Sian. It’s movie night and Eunseok is at your room, the both of you together and alone again after so many years, courtesy of Sungchan, Chaeryeong and Wonbin blowing you off to warm themselves up at a winter break party rather than hide at home under the blankets. It feels both awkward and familiar to be here with him, mostly because Eunseok is supposed to be watching the movie with you. You are supposed to be watching the movie, too, but you’re stuck observing him from the corner of your eye for fifteen minutes while he smiles and types away at his phone, texting his girlfriend. Said girlfriend who is currently traveling around France with her parents and bombing Eunseok’s phone with photos of her smiling prettily under the Eiffel Tower, in front of the Louvre, at Champs-Élysées. You don’t know why she takes so many photos. You don’t know why Eunseok has to react to every single one of them with a heart emoji and tell her how beautiful she looks. But you suppose that when you're pretty and rich and go to expensive places and have a caring boyfriend, that’s what happens. Not that you’d know any of that.

The thing is, envying Sian is not new to you. You’ve become used to it because she has everything whilst you have nothing. Money, beauty, intelligence and love. She has loyal friends and good people by her side. She has a balanced family and absolutely no childhood trauma from what you can tell. She definitely has some procedures on her face and her teeth are so perfect and bright it hurts your eyes. And she has an alive father, one that would for sure make a lovely father-in-law for Eunseok one day. Because she also has Eunseok.

And you like Sian. You really like her. But you can’t stand another minute of Eunseok not paying attention to anything that isn’t her – not paying attention to you.

“Seok, you’re not watching the movie,” you finally say after putting up with his constant texting for the last fifteen minutes.

He looks at you for a beat and puts his phone face down over his stomach, eyes shifting back to the laptop screen glowing in front of you both. “Sorry.”

He stays like that for a while, but then his phone vibrates and its screen glows and he picks it up again, spending another few minutes typing.

You shift uncomfortably on the far corner of your bed, the space between you and Eunseok as wide as the emotional distance you both created. “Eunseok, come on,” you whine, turning to him. “Are you for real right now?”

He doesn’t even glance your way this time, choosing to remain focused on whatever message he’s writing. “Sorry, I’m just texting Sian,” he says, as if you don’t know it already.

You sigh. “I know, but can’t you do it another time?”

“No. We haven’t been able to talk for a few days because of the time zones’ difference. And right now we’re both free and awake,” he explains.

His answer shoots an arrow straight through your chest. “Except you’re not free,” you remind him, your voice getting a tone higher. “You’re busy watching a movie with me!”

“Well, I need a couple minutes to talk with my girlfriend!” He counters.

“It’s been a couple minutes, alright? It’s been a few minutes, actually!”

“Y/N, I really don’t get what the problem is,” he says, finally looking at you again, seeming exasperated.

“The problem is you’re not watching the freaking movie!” You exclaim, feeling annoyed yourself.

He has the audacity to roll his eyes at you and turn back to his phone. “We watched this movie a billion times already.”

“It’s our favorite movie!” You say through gritted teeth, feeling offended.

“And we watched it a billion times before,” he repeats with a condescending tone, like he’s talking to a dumb kid. “My point still stands.”

“Well, if that’s how it’s gonna be,” you start, shutting the laptop down. You crawl down the bed and carry it with you before flicking your light back on, beyond yourself with anger. “Then movie night is over!” You finish, putting the laptop on your desk with a little too much force.

Eunseok rubs at his eyes for a moment, the sudden clarity obviously affecting his vision as much as it’s affecting yours, but you’re too busy being mad to care for it. 

Once he’s done adjusting his eyes, he comes back to the argument. “Oh God, it’s just a movie. You are so dramatic!”

His words only hurt you more. “If I’m so dramatic, why don’t you go back to your home and never look at me again since that’s what you prefer anyway?”

Eunseok stares at you for a second, then blinks. “What?”

“I said if I’m so dramatic—”

“No, no, no,” he interrupts you, flinging himself from the bed and tossing his phone at your nightstand in a single move. “I heard what you said, but what the fuck do you mean about it?”

You cross your arms, still defensive and livid. “Oh, come on, Eunseok! You don’t talk with me anymore. I know nothing about your life except for when you’re speaking about Sian. And that is all you talk about — Sian, Sian, Sian, all the fucking time. You never make time for us. And when by a chance we do have the opportunity to spend some time together, again you’re talking with her? You don’t pay attention to me and you don’t fucking care anymore! So if you don’t want my friendship, just say it and go away! We can be done and over with it!”

“Where did you get the idea that I don’t care about you? If I didn’t care, why would I be here?” He says, tips of his ears and apple of his cheeks getting red.

“But you’re not here!” You yell, slamming your hand on your dresser, a few of your personal items shaking and falling on it. “You haven’t been here for a while now. You’re not present in this friendship anymore. We don’t talk, we don’t go out, we don’t stay in together. We never do anything just the two of us. We’re never alone and never together, not truly. And even when we’re with other people, your mind is also elsewhere all the time. Everything just feels empty and superficial between us.”

Eunseok’s face gets redder with each word you utter and when you’re finished he spats at you, “And whose fault is that, Y/N? Who the fuck ruined everything between us?”

“Oh, so now you’re ready to talk about it?” You question, taking a step in his direction and crossing your arms. “Not gonna act like a coward and pretend nothing happened like usual?”

He also starts to walk towards you. “I’m a coward? You’re the one who walked away from us because you were too afraid of taking a chance!”

“And I regret it everyday!” You exclaim. “I get that I hurt you, Eunseok. I get that, okay? But also, I just miss us!” Your throat tightens and your voice starts to get shaky and heavy, all thanks to your upcoming tears. “I miss you! I miss you so freaking bad!”

It’s then that you start to cry, overcome with guilt and remorse, tears flowing from your eyes and cascading on your flushed face.

Eunseok’s temper tones down at your reaction and he takes a step back to assess your state. When the tears don’t stop after a few seconds, he looks at you with sorrow in his eyes. “Y/N,” he says, voice soft and understanding.

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes and turn away at him, hiding from the pity in his gaze by leaning your head against the wall. Your arm accidentally bumps against the light switch when you do it and the room darkens around you.

It’s quiet for a while. Just the sound of your sobs and hiccups and Eunseok’s ragged breath near the bed. You can hear that he’s trying to calm himself down, taking deep breaths in and out. Then you hear the noise of his sock-covered foot sliding across your floor, informing you he’s taking a hesitant step toward you. After that one, comes a new step. And another. And one more. And after a couple more, you feel his presence a hair’s breadth away from you. It’s warm and inviting and it takes everything in you not to lean back against it.

But you don’t have to, because a moment later he’s closing the distance. His arms cross over the front of your stomach, his chest meets your back and his chin rests on the crown of your head. He’s enveloping you in a hug from behind, over and under you. His scent invades your nostrils – clean softener, cedar wood and a touch of the citrus hand cream you gave him weeks prior. It feels suffocating in the best way possible. You don’t want him to ever let you go.

“Oh, Y/N,” he sighs. “I had no idea you felt like that.” He tightens his arms around you and continues. “I miss you, too. I miss you so much.”

“I didn’t know,” you stutter. “You never told me.”

“Yeah, I guess we’re both losers with a communication problem, right?” He says with a chuckle, his chest trembling against your back. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you sob, shaking your head. “Seok, I’m so sorry. For so many things.”

“Yeah?” He asks, pulling some hair away from the side of your face and snuggling his head on your shoulder. “Can you look at me and say that to my face, though?”

“Seok,” you whine, feeling guilty and vulnerable.

“Please?” He asks in a melodic voice. You can feel his breath right at your pulse and it takes everything in you not to ask him to kiss you. “I need to see your face to know that you really mean it.”

You sigh deeply, still ashamed, but does as he says. You do it slowly though. First you back away from the wall and pull your hands from your eyes, blinking at the shift from a complete blackout to the darkness of your room, still illuminated by the soft light of the hallway infiltrating from your half open door. Then you hastily clean a few tears from your face and brush your hair down, flicking it over your shoulders and trying to look like less of a hot mess. Only then you turn around to Eunseok and he lets his hands drift from the front of your stomach to your waist, still holding you close.

Your eyes dance over his form. Looking at his arms, his chest, his stomach, his shoulders. Everywhere but his face. He just waits while you gather courage, seconds passing through you.

Once you feel ready, you take another deep breath and look up, finally meeting his brown eyes again. They don’t have that anger that was present there a few minutes ago. The grudge they carried for you for years is also not there anymore. It makes you feel like crying again.

“Seok, I’m so sorry,” you hiccup, growing agitated again, new tears welling up your eyes. “I’m so sorry for so many things. For hurting you and for not talking about it and for not apologizing earlier and for not saying how—”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, pretty girl,” he coos, hands cradling your face to wipe at your tear streaked skin. “I know. I believe you, okay? I really do.”

“I was so dumb, I’m still so dumb. I never told you—”

“Hey, no, don’t talk about my best friend like that, please,” he says, pulling you in so the side of your face is pressed against his chest.

You slide your hands under his arms and around his back, wrapping your arms around him to pull him back against you, resting the side of his face against his chest. “I’m still your best friend?” You ask, voice small and quivering.

He snickers and you feel his nose touching the crown of your head. His chest expands behind your cheek when he takes a whiff of your hair. “Haven’t I told you that already?” He says, each word making his lips move against your scalp. “You’ll always be my best friend, Y/N. Nothing can change that.”

You continue crying, dampening his t-shirt with your tears. “I was so afraid we’d never talk again.”

“I know, sweetheart, but you don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m here with you now, right?”

“Are you? For real?” You ask, pushing off his chest to glance up at him.

Eunseok’s gaze melts at your insecurity and he lifts a hand to massage behind your head. “I am. For real.”

“You don’t hate me, then?” You ask, just to be sure.

“I could never hate you, Y/N. Where did you get that idea?”

You shrug and look down, biting on your lower lip. “I don’t know.”

But you do know. You thought he hated you because of what you did. And he’d had every right to if that was the case. You’re lucky he’s always been a kind soul, a helpful friend and an overall amazing guy.

He bends a little to catch your gaze, his thumb grazing your chin. “I’m here and I don’t hate you. I’ll be present again in this friendship from now on. Can you also do that?”

You nod quickly. “Yes, I can.”

“Great. Then we’re settled,” he says.

You smile and Eunseok smiles back at you. Then he rests his forehead on yours, sweeping back some strands of your hair and tucking them in behind your ear. You close your eyes and bask in his presence, at the certainty he's here with you now. You still have a lot to talk about, but you can do it calmly and over time. Right now what matters is that you found a middle ground. Everything else can wait a little bit longer.

You stay like that for a while, hugging tightly, feeling each other, growing confident the other won’t slip away. Until something shifts. Eunseok’s hands slide from the back of your head to your neck, his thumbs brushing on your skin. You know it’s an innocent act, that he’s just shifting his position a little. But you can’t contain the involuntary shiver that runs through your spine. You visibly shake in his embrace, opening your eyes with a gasp to find him already gazing deeply at you, his eyes darker than the last time you looked at him.

You flinch back and squeeze your eyes shut. “Sorry, I—”

“Don’t say sorry,” Eunseok commands, his voice lower than you've ever heard before. He rubs his thumbs down your clavicle and your body trembles again. “Don’t you ever say sorry about that.”

You take a shaky breath, the tension filling your nerves, and open your eyes again. He’s still looking at you and his fingers press against your nape to pull your face closer to his, his nose brushing against yours.

“Seok,” you whisper, not knowing if you’re giving him a warning or begging for something more.

He makes an appreciative sound behind his throat and presses his mouth on your skin timidly, his touch barely there. “I missed you saying my name like that so much,” he says, running his lips on your cheek. “It always sounds so airy, like just saying it gets you hot and bothered.”

You gulp down, processing his words. Eunseok just crossed a line saying that to you. And if you reply to him with what you have in mind, you’ll cross another. Then you’ll be playing a dangerous game, toying with the limits of your just recovered friendship and with the relationship he’s in. You’ve been here before and it did not go well for either of you. Chances are it won’t have a better outcome this time.

But it just feels so good… Would it really be so bad to cross just another teeny tiny line?

“You always get me hot and bothered,” you admit, feeling your chest constrict with guilt and desire.

Deep down you know this is wrong, you know Eunseok knows this is wrong. He has a girlfriend. He was talking to her barely ten minutes ago. Your friendship was just secured a few moments ago. You can’t do this. Whatever this is, you can’t go through with it. It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be safe. It wouldn’t be wise.

The tension stretches whilst Eunseok doesn’t respond to you immediately. He remains silent for a beat, and then another one, and you’re about to retract your words, when he chuckles, blowing air on your face.

“I know, baby,” he says, the pet name and the way he says it going straight to your core.  You decide to throw all caution out the window. You can’t go back now. Not anymore. To be honest, you could never deny him again.

He slides a hand down your body, his fingers brushing your clavicle and shoulder, then going to your back to skim over your spine. It trails lower until it squeezes your waist and pulls you more into him, making your bodies impossibly closer. “I felt that shiver, too, you know? I always feel so good when I’m close to you. It’s a big problem.”

You let him feel you up, fisting the front of his t-shirt on your hands while you try to remain calm. You’re frozen in place and completely at his mercy. You’ll give him everything he wants from you. You’re his for the taking. You always were.

His mouth brushes against the corner of your lips and you tilt your head up to preen closer to the touch, trying to draw out the feeling of his lips so close to yours for as long as possible.

Eunseok presses a kiss there and his hand glides under your top to feel the warm skin of your lower back. “When I was younger, I always had a boner whenever you so much as looked my way. I jerked off so many times thinking about you,” he reveals, careful eyes watching your reaction to his words. “I still do.”

You choke at the last piece of information, mind reeling with it. He used to touch himself to the thought of you. He still does it now. You wonder how he looks while he does it — how he sounds, how much precum he lets gather at the tip of his cock before touching it, how fast he cums. Almost all air leaves your lungs whilst you think about it.

“Really?” You ask, voice faltering. “Even after everything?”

He nods. “Even after everything. Even now. I can’t get you out of my head.” His fingers start to draw figure eights on your back. “I had to occupy myself with so many things to forget you. I tried so hard, but it was no use.”

Your heartbeat is wild and you’re trembling constantly now. But Eunseok doesn’t seem to care. He just pulls you closer and touches you more, making it impossible for you to stop shivering.

“Me too,” you confess, hands sliding up to the collar of his shirt, gripping it tightly. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t get over you. Over us. I still think about it all the time.”

“Yeah? What do you think about, baby?” He asks, putting his face in the crook between your neck and shoulder.

Your desire gathers between your legs and pools on your underwear so much it starts to feel uncomfortable. You need to take it off of you. You need him to take it off of you. You need him.

“I think about when we used to have fun together,” you say, wrapping your arms over his back.

“Oh,” he utters, descending both of his hands to fit them on your back pockets, squeezing your ass and flattening you against him, his hard-on nestled inside his jeans pressing against your pants’ crotch. It feels amazing. “You think about something like this?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, shifting your hips up to feel more of him. “When I touch myself, I always think about that.”

He releases a breath and drops a kiss on your neck, squeezing you more against him. “What more do you think about?”

“Your pretty cock,” you whisper, running a hand through his hair. “I think about how I used to suck it off and bounce on it. I miss it so much.”

“Oh shit, Y/N,” he groans, pelvis pulling back just to push forwards again, creating delicious friction between you. You feel dizzy with desire and you can only hope he feels the same way.

“Thinking about you always gets me so wet. I’m dripping by the time I’m finished,” you mutter, then you move your lips to his ear, preparing yourself to deal your final blow. “I’m so fucking wet for you right now, Seok.”

It’s Eunseok that shivers this time.

“Fuck, I wanna see that,” he says, a hand snaking in between your legs, cupping your sex over your pants. “I wanna feel it. Can I, baby?”

“Please,” you beg, pulling his face down by his collar until his forehead is pressed against yours again. “I need you so bad. You have no idea.”

“You got me, baby,” he whispers. “You got me.” And then he’s diving in to kiss you.

Eunseok kisses you like he’s claiming you and you kiss him back like you can’t bear spending another moment without his lips touching yours. It’s messy and sloppy, your mouths and tongues trying to suck and lick anything you’re able to reach, your teeth clenching together and biting sensitive skin. Each time one of you pulls back, the other moves forward again to connect your lips.

Kissing like this shows you just how much you wasted time not doing what you wanted. You could’ve been doing this for ages, you could be experienced professionals about how to make each other feel good. You could’ve been loving each other this close and this deeply instead of avoiding your feelings. God, you were so stupid for the longest time.

You’re completely out of breath once Eunseok’s lips slip down to kiss your neck, making you moan and shiver. Then he’s pushing you up until you land on the top of the dresser and you’re glad you have something to support yourself because your legs were about to give out at any moment.

He puts his body in between your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the dresser until he can roll his hips against yours again. You moan in unison and his hands squeeze your thighs whilst he resumes attacking your neck with his mouth.

“I thought about this so much,” you say, grinding on him. “Wishing we could do this all the time.” You pull on his hair until he’s looking at you again. “I always wanted you, Eunseok. Always.”

“I did, too,” he replies, hands slipping under your top to feel your bare skin, thumbs pressing on your sides.

You slide a hand down his stomach to find his belt, pulling on the buckle to unfasten it. Once you’re done, you pull it from his jeans quickly and throw it on the floor. “That’s not the only thing. What I’m trying to say is—”

The air is pulled from your lungs when Eunseok picks you up again and tosses you on your bed, crawling right up to your body until he’s hovering above you. The manhandling gets you light-headed and his hands coming up to cup your breasts empties your brain completely. 

You can’t remember what you were saying. Your focus just zeros in on the way he’s ravishing you.

“Y/N,” he whispers while kissing your jaw.

“Yes?” You say, still dazed.

He moves his hand down to the button of your jeans, toying with it for a moment before pulling it out of its loop and drawing your zipper down. His hands skim on the waistband of your panties and you groan, feeling the heat of his fingertips so close to where you most want him.

“What you’re trying to say is?” He asks, tone light and fun, clearly teasing you for your dazed state for the past minute.

Your brain awakes again and you squeeze his arms, remembering what you were about to confess. “Right. What I’m trying to say is—”

Eunseok sucks on your pulse point and you groan, turned on and frustrated. You know he’ll just keep fogging your mind further until you are a blabbering mess. And although you’re not opposed to that, you really need a moment to catch your breath so you can communicate with him properly. After that, you can do what you both are clearly desperate to do.

“Wait,” you whisper, pushing on his shoulders. “I need a second.”

He pulls back slightly and looks at you, watching your chest heave with each breath you take. “You want to stop?”

You shake your head immediately and press your elbows to the mattress, supporting your head up to look at him. “No. I just need to tell you something.”

His fingers dig on your waist. “Sure, baby. What is it?”

You sigh, moving a hand to his chest and trying to make the words in your brain get out of your mouth. “What I’m trying to say is—” The words get stuck in your throat, a new wave of sudden sensibility hitting you right in the chest, impending them from coming out. You feel you’re about to sob again. “Fuck, I’m saying that I—”

The letters are right there, resting on the tip of your tongue, but they just refuse to get out. I love you, you wanna say. I love you, you wanna scream. I love you, I love you, I love you. That’s all you think about. Three little words that have been swimming inside you for as long as you remember. You waited your whole life to say that to him and now that you’re desperate to say it, your voice fails you, your fear taking over your mind, new tears welling up on your throat.

Eunseok watches you expectantly, just waiting. He’s patient with you, like he is most of the time. His eyes show that he knows what you’re going to say, but also that he badly needs to hear it, probably just as much as you need to tell him. It gives you the strength to push through your last restraints.

You take another shuddering breath and lock your eyes with his. “Seok, I lo—”

Then a sudden sound makes you both jump and he pulls back from you as you sit up on the bed. It takes a second to identify what it is, but the realization downs you both at the same time, your heads tilting together to look at the origin of the noise. It’s Eunseok’s ringtone accompanied by his phone vibrating on your bedside table. He’s receiving a call. And you don’t have to look at his screen to see who the caller is. You know it’s Sian. The woman he just cheated on with you.

Eunseok scurries down the bed to pick up his phone, turning his volume all the way down until the only sign of his girlfriend calling him is the picture glowing under her name on his screen. Then he puts the device into his pants’s pocket and stares at the wall in front of him. His back is turned to you and his shoulders are stiff whilst his phone screen still lights up inside his back pocket until it stills. But barely two seconds later it starts flashing again and you know Sian won’t stop calling until he picks up.

You just fucked up. Majorly so. 

Hurting each other in the midst of your confusing feelings was all you’ve ever done in your life. The sting burned like hell, but it was your way, your uncomfortable comfort zone, something you’ve gotten used to. Upsetting and harmful, but still familiar, still you two. But hurting another person because of it — someone who has nothing to do with your shit, who is a good person above and all? That was a whole new level of dark and twisted.

You sigh, extremely disappointed with yourself, and run your hands through your hair. You knew you were a bad person, but apparently you never thought it would get to this extent. And now here you are.

What pulls you from the bed and puts you on your feet is Eunseok complete stillness. He’s quiet until his phone stops ringing for the third time, probably taking his girlfriend to voicemail. And he remains quiet when it starts to ring again. You get up to comfort him, to put a hand on his shoulder, because you can’t take seeing him hurt by something that is obviously your fault.

You were the one who held back your feelings. You were the one who made him confused. You were the one that confronted him, screamed and cried. You let him hug you, leaned into his arms, shivered and whispered his name like a prayer. You teased him, tempted him, made him cheat. Eunseok isn’t guilty of any of this, you are. It’s your responsibility to take.

You get off the bed and walk towards him. “Seok,” you say, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder.

However, Eunseok flinches away from you, instantly springing back to life and starting to zip up his pants again. You pull your hand back to rest it against your chest, clenching it into a fist and holding your wrist with your other hand.

“I think I should go,” he says to the wall.

You take a step back and sigh. Guilt, shame, fear and rejection pull on your heartstrings, making your chest tight. You don’t have the energy nor the audacity to ask him to stay. Not after what you’ve just done.

“Okay,” you say in a small voice.

Eunseok turns to you, but his eyes look at a distant point at your bedroom wall. “I think we shouldn’t see each other for a while.”

You gulp down the tears swelling on your throat and nod. “Okay.”

He finally looks at you, eyes heavy with remorse. “I just need some time and space, Y/N.”

“Sure, I’ll give them to you,” you say, plastering a fake smile on your face, trying to comfort him despite falling apart inside. ”Whatever you need, Seok.”

“Thank you,” he sighs.

Then he’s back to recomposing himself and collecting some of his things left on the floor and you just stay there, watching him until he’s done. On his way out of your room, he brushes past you and stops. You hold your breath as he gets close and presses his lips to your temple.

“Bye, Y/N-ie,” he whispers over your skin.

You close your eyes and whisper back, “Bye, Seokie.”

Then he exits, hurried steps following down your house hallway. You hear him quickly put on his shoes at the hall and a small beat of silence just before he opens the door. Then the lock clicks open, a gust of wind whistles through it and you know he’s out, the automatic alarm of the door locking it closed, leaving you all alone again.

You fall to the floor, legs too weak to hold the heavy weight on your heart, and look up to the pegboard over your dresser, filled with trinkets and many pictures — pictures of you and Eunseok together.

There’s one of you as five-year-olds at the playground you met and one of you behind Eunseok’s solar system mock up he did for a science fair when you were eight. There’s one of you at twelve playing a shooting game at an arcade and another of you when you skipped class to spend a day at the beach at fourteen. There’s another one of you working together at a part-time job in a cafe when you were sixteen and even a selfie from one of your many movie nights at seventeen. There’s one of you at a burger place when you were eighteen, looking at each other and laughing.

And the last one is just of Eunseok, taken a year back, when things were already too messy in between you. In the image, he’s as handsome as ever, looking down to write something on a notepad, his hair swept back and his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. You remember the distance between his frames and his eyes made you focus on his eyelashes, just like that other time, and that a stirring on your chest made you snap the photo silently and keep it to yourself.

Looking at all of your sacred memories with him, you can’t stop the tears from falling down your face, afraid you just lost the one constant in your life forever.

author's note: Don't hate me, hate Song Eunseok who inspired me to write this. If you want a part of two, comments and asks are welcomed so I'm sure you guys actually like this. Thank you for reading, as always!

[olderthannetfic]

I am trying to figure out why I am fine and not bothered at all with sexuality headcanons and why the ADHD, BPD, Autism all those type of headcanons piss me off to no end.

A headcanon is a headcanon. Sure both groups are obnoxious sometimes with their interpretations of canon. There are for sure people who think that a Sasuke is really gay in Naruto.

And if someone writes a trans Sasuke fic or talks about how Sasuke is trans I will just shrug off and move on.

And I even can't say that the gender and sexuality headcanons don't mischaracterize the blorbo and those others do because that's not true.

And at the same time I don't consider anyone who doesn't have the sexuality headcanons to be homophobic. Okay, you don't see him as gay, move on. But for some reason when I see the people who have these headcanons accusing everyone who doesn't have them of abelism that's also pissing me off. No, I just don't see it that way and I'm not here to hear you yell in my face that Blorbo has autism and I'm doing erasure for not accepting it as fact.

I don't know what's the aim of this ask but I guess I'm submitting myself to the judgement of locals.

--

[valeisaslut]

ok so i already sent this thought i had to ur inbox before BUT IM ELABORATING BECAUSE ITS GENUINELY ALLLLLL I CAN THINK ABOUT

reader writing false god by taylor swift.

im thinking specifically when (not if, WHEN!! cuz istg ill die and haunt you if they dont :D) ellie and reader get back together and are slowly making up after everything that happened in chapter 8.

before i really get into my lyric analysis, i do wanna add that i believe reader would have written this with the intention of not talking directly about ellies addiction because she knows how personal that is rn.

VERSE 1

“we were crazy to think, crazy to think that this could work -ellie and reader both thought letting ellie go finish off her tour while also trying to get sober would work

remember how i said id die for you? -i believe (i could be wrong but idk!) reader hasnt said this specifically, but shes tried to get through to ellie how much she matters to reader. i think that this line captures that

we were stupid to jump in the ocean separating us -both reader and ellie continued(“jumped”) their tours(“the ocean”) that separated them from being together (they also were sometimes literally seperated by oceans)

remember how id fly to you?”- reader flew to ellie in chapter 8

PRE CHORUS

“And I can't talk to you when you're like this -reader cant talk to ellie when she is high/not sober

Staring out the window like I'm not your favorite town -this verse in this case would be metaphorical. Ellie is “staring at the window” aka avoiding/pushing away reader even when ellie loves her

I'm New York City

I still do it for you, babe -reader basically saying YOU STILL LOVE ME

They all warned us about times like this

They say the road gets hard and you get lost

When you're led by blind faith

Blind faith” -these line are pretty self explanatory

CHORUS (mostly self explanatory)

But we might just get away with it

Religion's in your lips

Even if it's a false god - ellie and readers false god isnt just their love for one another but also the belief that it would be enough to help ellie get sober throughout her tour

We'd still worship

We might just get away with it -and they will cuz eventually theyll get back together and ellie will get sober due to their love(im going insane this is my way of coping)

The altar is my hips -HEHE

Even if it's a false god

x3 We'd still worship this love

VERSE 2

I know heaven's a thing, I go there when you touch me -HEHE

Honey, hell is when I fight with you -not so hehe.. ;-;

But we can patch it up good, make confession -this ones a bit lengthy so bare with me. “we can patch it up good” is reader saying we can still mend things between us, but first, “make confession” aka go to rehab. PLS BARE WITH ME NOW. I see this as a metaphor for going to rehab and getting sober because when you make confessions (im catholic so this is based ofc my knowledge of it) you have to go to the confessional booth in church and acknowledge ur sins, do some prayers the priest assigns you, in order to be forgiven… and when you go to rehab you have to acknowledge youre an addict that needs help(“acknowledging your sins”) make your recovery (going through withdrawal; ig this would be the “prayer”), and then be sober(“be forgiven”)

And we're begging for forgiveness, got the wine for you - the end part, “got the wine for you”, goes back the religious practice that you cant drink the wine(or blood of jesus) without having confessed your sins first. Drinking this wine/blood of jesus is supposed to make you more connected to gods forgiveness, grace, and what not. in this case reader is saying, “we(anyone whos tried to convince and help ellie get sober) are begging for you to get sober, got our love(their false god) and my forgiveness for you”. …. idk if that makes any sense ;-;

PRECHORUS

And you can't talk to me when I'm like this -now heres where im stretching and projecting what i hope happens next BUT i think when reader and ellie make up, reader is going to have a lot of fears(understandably) of being lied to about ellies soberness again. so there might be moments where shes freaking out on ellie because of something that triggers the fear of ellie relapsing(maybe ellie didnt text reader an update, or missed readers check in call cuz she was asleep, or sum like that yk?)

Daring you to leave me just so I can try and scare you -connecting back to the previous line, maybe in one of those moments of the reader freaking out, ellie says something like, “this (readers freakout) isnt helping either one of us” and reader in the moment says “ok so if this isnt helping you then leave me again since i couldnt help you back then when you left me either”. its dumb logic, yes, but reader doesnt actually mean it tho and is js overtaken with many fears. some being that her love and support isnt enough for ellie to be sober, that ellie will choose drugs over her again, and in general being left again. when she says this, its not an actual statement but more of a test of “am i really not helping you?”, “will you leave me again?”.. LUCKILY THO, ellie, who at this point has been to therapy and probably still going, sees right through that and says something like “ok i know i scared you back then and you have every right to feel this way but we need to work together” and prob tells reader to also start seeing a therapist, and that shes also willing to do couples counseling….. like i said this is just my projection im using to cope

You're the West Village

You still do it for me, babe

They all warned us about times like this

They say the road gets hard and you get lost

When you're led by blind faith

Blind faith

……

THATS BASICALLY IT, there is more to the song but a lot of it is just the chorus and repeating verses that ive already put in here so no need for me to add more to this giant analysis. GO LISTEN TO IT ISTG ITS WORTH IT!

i also do want to say rq THANK YOUU!!! this story is so amazing and it inspires me to start creating art again because of the absolute passion and love i can feel when reading it. truly one the best x reader fanfics ive ever read!! either way keep up the AMAZING work and im sorry if nothing i said made sense😖

OMG HIIIII yessssss i have listened to it and literally thought the exact same thing... like how are we this connected 😭😭 i always knew “false god” was peak collide-coded but i couldn’t add it to the playlist or album references bc well… i can’t spoil whether they.... end up together or not 😭 but it’s literally been sitting in the back of my mind for weeks and now seeing you break it down like this??? hello??? telepathy???

also the way you explained the lyrics????? like every single line?? i’m obsessed. “we were stupid to jump in the ocean separating us” and “remember how i'd fly to you” literally punched me in the chest because YEAH. it’s so them. and the whole “i can’t talk to you when you’re like this” + “i still do it for you” is such a post-chapter-8 energy that it makes me want to chew drywall. the idea that they both know how fragile everything is and how painful it was and yet they still orbit each other like this cursed little religion… yeah. yeah. i’m going to cry.

and the WINE METAPHOR??????? girl. i never even thought of that and now i’m staring at the wall in silence. that whole part about confession and forgiveness and love as a false god that they still worship even if it’s hurting them… it’s so beautiful and layered and you explained it with so much care that it actually broke me a little. i love that reader would write it for ellie without ever saying her name, like a quiet offering. it’s perfect.

thank you for this genuinely. this kind of message is why i love writing collide so much. you made my whole day. i’m holding your brain in my hands like a baby bird 🥺💗

[thecurioustale]

To go off on a tangent of my own...

In my college years I performed Extensive Research on how a nobody can get their fiction published, and consequently I was Ready to Go on that count for a while, "merely" pending the completion of said fiction...

In the centuries that followed, something strange happened to me. I began to suspect that no traditional publishing house would ever want to touch my work without Extensive Edits, and, concomitantly, having precise control over my fiction was becoming more and more important to me. I was becoming less willing to accept Extensive Edits even as I was becoming convinced that there could be no other path to success with a traditional publisher.

In time this decision made itself, not all at once but gradually, the old traditional model spalling away and finally disintegrating entirely. When faced with the dilemma of choosing the integrity of my work or choosing better access to an audience, it was no choice at all.

Meanwhile, self-publishing was becoming more sophisticated. A family friend had been publishing some of her work for years on one of the early-era Internet-based self-publishers, Xlibris. Perhaps not fully comprehending what exactly a traditional publisher does, I started to think that independent publication might just be the way for me.

By the time mountain ranges had risen and fallen, and I completed my first novel, Amazon had come along and taken away all of the up-front capital costs required. There was no longer any barrier to entry! So I published it online and got probably a couple dozen readers! (One order of magnitude higher than I'd have gotten were it not for the OP posting about it on Tumblr.)

But this anodyne anecdote isn't why I'm posting this; it's just the setup:

When the Prelude to After The Hero came out, it occurred to me that I was a Published Author now. I already had a Patreon, and, small though it was, I was technically being paid to write. So I was also a Professional Author, if not financially self-sufficient about it. These were strange hats to wear, as I'd always associated "professional authors" and "published authors" (I'll just combine those two into the latter now) with the people whose books show up in all the bookstores and whose works audiences are large enough to sustain ongoing fan communities. I was obviously nowhere in that realm, yet I was technically allowed to wear their hats now, and I had to think about What That Meant.

I realized I had come to associate being a professional author with fame and fortune. Not a state of A-list celebrity, necessarily, but fame and fortune all the same. And that's not really what authorship is. Authorship is in the word; it is no more and no less than writing works and, at least sometimes, finishing them.

But there is a deeply unsatisfying side to this. It's like being sold on Disneyland and arriving only to find you're in a regular old park with a short slide and a couple of those cute animals on giant springs. Something's missing, and it is both easy to see what that is and hard to articulate how the discrepancy matters.

What does it matter, really? Are the comforts of money and the intrigue of attention more important than the art itself? Not really. But then why do they hold such sway? And I think it's because of a quirk of my psyche that probably doesn't impact most people quite as forcefully: There is an issue of acceptance and belonging at work here.

I have many ways of talking about this, both in my fiction and nonfiction. I like to use the metaphor of the horizon most of all: beautiful landscapes and cityscapes, which disappear when you enter into them. They seem to exist in this place where others are allowed to dwell but you yourself are not. And, having dealt with a lot of rejection in both my child and adult lives, it's no surprise that I would be highly compelled by the allure of belonging.

There's an episode of The Simpsons where Homer discovers a secret society called The Stonecutters whose members include practically all of Springfield's well-known faces other than Homer himself. The Stonecutters are played up as being this mysterious, wonderful thing, with fantastic food, great parties, even private roads with chandeliers. And by the end of the episode Homer has become its leader! But, in so doing, everything about The Stonecutters that gave this exquisite secret society its potency vanishes. It stops being fun or interesting, and everyone else leaves the society and forms the No Homers Club. The magic is lost.

We have brains that are evolved to compose narratives where none exist, and build legends out of mundane facts. Our cities upon the horizon, and their glorious ways, sparkle magnificently. But rarely, if ever, do we ourselves seem to be able to step inside such places and dwell there without them disappearing around us—even when our lives are going very well, let alone when they're not.

I think a lot of Tumblrinos would just look at all of the above and say "tldr impostor syndrome," but I would not agree with that. For one thing, I have become increasingly opposed over the past ten years to the rampancy of biomedicalization of our identities and bodies. I don't like deploying biomedical frameworks as a cultural affiliation marker or as a form of expression. I've heard people claim that "everyone has impostor syndrome." Maybe in your worldview, buddy, but not in mine. To me that's a misuse of psychological nomenclature. But even if that objection weren't in effect—let's say I conceded it for the sake of conversation—the bigger reason that I don't agree with boiling down what I've written here to "impostor syndrome" is that it isn't accurate. I don't have any real doubts about the artistic wholeness and high quality of the Prelude, or of any of the novels I am presently writing. I know I'm a good author. I don't feel like I don't belong in the secret club of Professional Authors. I think I do! Rather, I feel that it is closed off to me by powers outside my control for reasons having little or nothing to do with me. I'm not saying that I see the world as being "against me." Nothing so dramatic or self-centered! I see the world as being cold and unthinking in many respects, and me being a poor fit for it on top of that, and, thus, mainly by circumstance, me not fitting into it. And, like a cosmic rounding error, there seems to be no fixing this. I've never fit in, and I probably never will. I'm not an impostor. I'm an outsider.

A Guru of Horizons, they called me once...

Long ago I used to fantasize that completing my books would lead to fame and fortune. But what I really wanted was to be accepted for who I am, in the context of doing the things I love. That, too, is an illusion of the horizon. No one will ever know you well enough for that. And fame and admiration are a sword because of it. For you will be misunderstood, and, to people like me at least, that makes all the difference. It will slice into you. At best, you will only be accepted as a "close enough" by dear friends. But, mostly, in the words of my star-captain Cherry Ilyapa, people will wrap your skin around their own dreams and thoughts, and sink your eyes into its sockets, never thinking how garish it might be.

Imagine that you can still draw, or paint, if you feel like it, and have the tools. That hasn't changed.

And (no, this post isn't about AI, there we go, where was I) all the other newer tools still exist too: Wacom tablets exist, and Adobe Photoshop, and every sort of camera, and so forth. If you have these tools ready at hand, you can just pick them up, and make pictures with them.

And tumblr still exists, and all the rest of the internet with it. And so – if you like – you can use these venues to share the pictures you make with others, easily and immediately, for free.

However, there is also another venue, for sharing pictures.

That is the only thing that is different.

The other venue is... let's say it's a magazine that only prints visual art, and which has an extremely large number of subscribers.

Everyone knows about The Magazine. Most people you know are subscribers.

Before the internet, The Magazine was the main way that visual art got into people's homes (if it wasn't created there in the first place). Your parents speak of The Magazine as though it's just where art lives, as though the notion that there might be art somewhere else has never really crossed their minds.

Much of what appears in The Magazine is, in fact, pretty good. Conversely, much of the truly great art of the recent past made an appearance in The Magazine, at some point, before or after appearing in galleries and/or being reproduced in other ways.

But a lot of it is just... fine. Trendy, competent, workmanlike.

You flip through the pages and mostly you think, yeah, this sure is the sort of thing that gets printed in The Magazine, in the current year. Occasionally you're impressed by something you see there, and even more rarely something moves you, transfixes you.

Much the same could be said of your tumblr dash, of course.

It must be noted, however, that The Magazine has a higher quality floor than your tumblr dash. Everything that appears there looks polished, professional, carefully worked-over. This counts for less than one might think; that professional gloss can do nothing to elevate ill-conceived or simply dull work (and The Magazine does print such things fairly often).

In a gallery, you might encounter mere sketches, or blatantly unfinished paintings (Leonardo left behind plenty of both, after all). But you will never find such things in The Magazine.

The Magazine's cultural and psychological prestige is immense. It holds the popular conception of "art" in its tight, totalizing grip. If you ever pick up a pencil and draw, it will be assumed – by default – that you aspire to eventual publication in The Magazine. If you are not very good, people will tell you to keep at it; maybe someday you will make the grade. If you are good, people will tell you so, and ask you whether you've prepared anything for submission, whether you've sent it, whether you heard back.

It is tremendously inconvenient to appear in The Magazine.

After all, anyone can pick up paper and pencil, but The Magazine only has so many pages per month. So, The Magazine has standards. It is persnickety. It couldn't afford to behave differently.

But even if it could afford to behave differently, it would not want to. For it so happens that The Magazine prides itself on its active role in the production of "art" (meaning, "that which has appeared in The Magazine").

Even if you are one of the "lucky" few who does not receive a simple rejection letter from The Magazine, you will not simply be allowed to put your drawing or painting or what-have-you into The Magazine as it is.

Unmediated transmission of art, straight from artist to viewer, is for lower-class venues ("tumblr.com," "physical reality and its tendency to project images of nearby objects onto the retina," etc). The Magazine has standards, and they have a full staff of not-quite-artist, not-quite-art-critic people who are employed to impose them. If you do not get a rejection letter, what happens instead is that you begin a long and laborious transaction with one or more of these strange middlemen. They will tell you that your work is a good start, but that you really should have put this part over there, or made the symbolism more obvious or less obvious, or "applied your evident talent" to a more socially relevant choice of subject matter, or something of this nature.

Eventually, after a protracted interaction like this, you might succeed! A new, different, quite possibly worse picture – produced by laboriously adjusting your original one (which, being original/unmediated, is of course unprintable by definition) until The Magazine's staff feel satisfied in the relative scope of their role versus yours in the collaborative act that is "art" production – will end up on a page somewhere in the next issue of The Magazine.

And, finally: real art has been produced! You've made it!

You're in The Magazine. And your work ("your"? you don't feel so sure anymore) does look nice, sitting there on one of those oh-so-glossy pages.

It is nice enough that you spend nearly a minute lingering over it, before you go back to tumblr.com, where all the rest of the pictures are.

(And then, on the weekend, you go to a museum, and look at pictures which were being lauded as masterworks centuries before The Magazine was even founded. You could never produce anything like them, you know – and you feel envious of their creators, not so much because of their greater talents, but because no one ever praised them by saying, hey, this stuff is good enough to be in The Magazine!)

But at least your mom and dad will look at your drawings, now, and think: my child is an artist. You were an artist before, too, but it was just amateur stuff. Now it's for real. Professional. In The Magazine.

Professional? Well, The Magazine did pay you a little in the end, as a prize. And there are some people who make their livings this way. They have good, longstanding, hard-won relationships with The Magazine's staff of intermediaries. They are unusual; by sheer force of numbers, only a select few can make a decent and reliable living in this manner.

(Indeed, The Magazine's insistence on imposing its standards is essentially inimical to steady, reproducible money-making for individual artists. You shouldn't feel secure already that they'll print your next picture without delay, before you've even sent it in for assessment – that would mean they are not keeping standards at all, wouldn't it? And so, cultural forces within The Magazine conspire to degrade its value as a potential source of one's livelihood.)

Those who appear regularly in The Magazine have unparalleled reach. As a child, perhaps, they shaped your notion of what an "artist" was; as a child, maybe you wanted to be just like them, when you grew up.

But then you did grow up – and so, you realized that they were employing the tools at hand (pencil, paper) to a very unusual end. Anyone can pick up the tools and draw. But few can make it into The Magazine, and perhaps even fewer than that should want to appear there.

After all, there is something almost shameful about the exercise, isn't it?

The Magazine says: I am the means by art is produced and disseminated. And many people, passively following the ambient culture, unconsciously nod along.

But in fact, The Magazine has no potency in it whatsoever. It is you, and the viewer, who create the work of art and create the experience of experiencing art. You can just draw things. You can just show your drawings to people.

And The Magazine cannot turn an uninspired artist into a genius, or an unskilled artist into a master; it can only trim perceived fat, arrange perceived rough edges into a more agreeable shape, apply gloss and trendiness and "professionalism." But those were never what anyone liked about art to begin with. You don't need them – unless you do, for your own artistic reasons (and your viewers'), and in that case home-made versions will probably do the job well enough.

There is, in fact, not much reason at all to want to appear in The Magazine.

And that, in itself, is a strong argument against the idea.

You ought not to play along in the charade, pretending that the whole laborious exercise has a point after all, if you know that it is in fact pointless. This is a matter of integrity, if nothing else.

Anyway, that's how I feel whenever anyone's like, "so are you gonna try to get this stuff published or what"

[mikilandzzz]

♥︎‹ 𖤩 ¡𝐏𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄!

TW: none, except a bad joke about Dante's hair and a much pizza hahaha

Dante x fem!reader. Don't worry if you don't like the pronouns used here; you can change them to your preference or however you find most comfortable.

a/n: HELLO EVERYONE!!! sorry if I've been gone for so long. Life hasn't been kind to me these past few months, honestly… It may be late for this but I think it doesn't hurt. Also, because i've just finished watching the Netflix series, i'm obsessed with this guy. I'll watch the 2007 series later. (I swear...)

Dante always had a preference for pizza. If strawberry ice cream was one of his favorite things, pizza was even more so. But he didn't have many things he called "favorites." The only ones he considered "favorites" were pizza, strawberry ice cream, and demon hunting. However, there weren't many things that were compelling enough to pay attention to. He was a fairly simple man. He enjoyed life in a fairly simple way. Well, if we're talking about very simple and unimportant aspects like his lifestyle, he liked to let himself go because he wasn't a man who cared about anything else, no one knows exactly. And that was his charm.

While enjoying he pizza as he took a bite, the opening of the restaurant door caught her attention but it was only for a brief moment to see a girl with (h/c) hair come in. Her appearance was a coat that covered her almost completely, making it seem as if she was wearing nothing but the coat, although she was only wearing shorts and a black blouse but they weren't noticeable because of the coat. When she took a seat next to him, he only looked at her for a few moments before turning his attention back to his food and continuing to enjoy it, at least that was the case until she spoke.

—"Excuse me, ¿Can you give me the same order as the gray-haired man?" —Said the girl in a somewhat comical tone of voice, pointing as she looked at what else was offered on the menu in front of her.

¿A man with gray hair? ¡But that was his natural hair color! ¿How could she not know? Did he really look that old?

He's struggling internally to argue with her or let it go. People always commented on his hair or his age, but he felt the girl had meant it with bad intentions. Before he could even say anything, she spoke again.

—"Nice gray hair." —She said. He looked in her direction with mild amusement, but I could also sense that "honesty" in her voice.

—"I know" —He replied somewhat self-centeredly.— "Thanks, but it's my hair color. It's always been that way" —He added.

Neither of them said a word beyond what they had just said to each other, at least that was at first, but after a few moments (n) he dared to talk more with that man, deciding to engage him in some conversation to get to know him a little better.

—"By the way, ¿what's your name? You don't look like someone from around here" —She asks as takes she order and begins to take a bite of a food.

He just laughs lightly and then watches her eat her pizza for a few moments, then focuses on his own food. He introduces himself as Dante while the girl reveals herself as (n). (N) found his name strange, but he had to admit that it was a pretty cool name. Even he had to admit that her name wasn't a very common one to hear or see a girl with that name.

—"I have to admit you gratify me, what do you think if i treat you to the next slice of pizza this time?" —She proposes with a smile, although it seemed more like a somewhat mocking smile instead.

—"¿How could I refuse a tempting offer that includes pizza?" —He joked, returning the same smile she gave him.

Time passed, and the two chatted; sometimes it was he who talked more, or even she. It didn't really matter who talked more; they were both having a great time, and like any good time, it had to end. She asked for the check to pay but not before seeing him leave a napkin with something written on it next to it.

"I hope to see you again (n). May this place be the place of our next meetings."

That made her face turn blush red, but she didn't mind the idea of ​​seeing him again. She was already excited to see him again.

I hope you liked it!! Remember to like and follow me so I can keep publishing more content. In case you're wondering, i'll keep writing about Mortal Kombat. It's just that I have to resume some abandoned drafts there.

If you have a question for my absence (although i doubt anyone would be interested) you can ask privately and i will gladly answer. :) ps: if something is not written correctly, ¡please let me know!

[nice-and-accurate-fictions]

Season 3 and post season 2

So I am very, very picky about season 3 fics. The main feature I’m picky about is Aziraphale’s characterisation, said the girl who had bored everyone to death with her thoughts about why Aziraphale did what he did. You won’t find any fic in here where Aziraphale is the villain or needs to apologize for his choice. You will find some fictions that differ to my headcanon of Aziraphale knowing what he was doing (or at least having a good reason for doing it), rather than being tricked and naively flattered into accepting the position. Which means that those fictions are really incredibly good, if I enjoyed them in spite of that. But definitely no fics where Aziraphale is a villain, or an egoist, or doesn’t love Crowley enough. 

In general, when it comes to season 3, I generally prefer plotty stories, where I can find the vibes and humour that we have in canon, the implication that it is, after all, a comedy. But I won’t say no to some excellent post season 2 fix-its with all the right vibes!

Season 3:

The Beginning Of The End (Again), by AddledMongoose, rated M, 78k.

One of my all time favourite season 3 fics. Amazing plot, perfect characterisation and chemistry between Crowley and Aziraphale, great humour, and a colourful array of side characters. Low angst and a happy ending. I can't begin to tell you how much I loved this story, and yet I really, really can’t stop telling you how much I love this story!

What Are You Doing Here, by Nebz_AlphaCentauri. Rated E, 68k. P. Feb 24.

Truly amazing season 3 fiction where our heroes have to stop the second coming. Plotty and sexy in equal measure. I will forever be grateful to the writer for not making God good.

My own  And I Did, rated E, 85k. P. Dec 24.

In my not-a-summary I say that this is a story about faith, about love, and about choices. Which is true. But I have come to think of it also as my apology dance to Crowley. My headcanon about Aziraphale has always been clear, but at first I wasn't sure about what Crowley would do after the final 15. I didn't see Crowley drinking himself oblivious or taking a road of self destruction. But I didn't know what he would do. Then it hit me, and that was when I started writing this fic. I knew what Crowley would do. Crowley would do what Crowley does. And what does Crowley do best? This is a story about faith, about love, and about choices. Aziraphale is Supreme Archangel, Crowley is Grand Duke Of Hell, and they have to bring about the Second Coming. And of course they're not talking.

Time Marches Forward by Bellisima_writes. Rated M, 129k. P. Feb 24.

Post season two story with an incredible plot! This story has multiple POVs, including Adam's, who's one of the main characters, and rightly so! Aziraphale is in heaven as supreme archangel, while on earth Adam and Crowley form a very strong bond. We follow their journey in the two years between the end of season two and the second coming. Lots of angst with a very happy ending!

Post season 2 and fix-its:

Multichapters:

My own  Second Chances And Second Choices. Rated T, 25K. P. Mar 24.

Not half as good as any of the others I'm recommending but it's my baby, so... Set after a failed second coming. Aziraphale is hoping this is the beginning of his life with Crowley, but Crowley seems to be of a different opinion. Until old enemies turn up at Aziraphale's door. Low angst, happy ending. I wish it had better humour, I wish some bits didn't feel as much of a stretch as they do but fair enough. Rated: Teen and up.

After The End (part one of Nice And Ominous: A Reluctant Eschatology Of The Second Attempt) by beardo. Rated T, 26k. P. Feb 24.

Crowley learns to cope after Aziraphale goes to heaven, with a little help.from his friends. And from the Bentley. I love the writer’s humour and the conversations between Crowley and the Bentley are hilarious.

Among The Stacks, by MeinirRhos. Not Rated, 65k. P. Nov 23.

This fiction made me feel things. Sometimes uncomfortable things. Which is what great writing should do, really, isn’t it? I’m so glad I stuck to it because the story is amazing, clever, and deep. A year after Aziraphale goes to heaven, Crowley feels that Aziraphale is no more and starts mourning him. Until he finds a human that looks and behave exactly like Aziraphale. This story has a happy ending and skippable explicit scenes. I highly recommend it.

One-shots:

Trial & Error, by fellshish. Rated E, 15k. P. Nov 23.

Fellshish’s unmatchable style and humour are at their best in this fix-it fic! Crowley is taken to heaven to face a trial for tempting the Supreme Archangel. The judge is, yes, you guessed it, the Supreme Archangel. Laughter and deep feelings all mixed up in this wonderful story.

We Only Said Goodbye With Words, I Died a Hundred Times, by ras_elased. Rated E, 9k. P. Sep 23.

Beautiful, incredibly angsty fix-it fic. It has a happy ending and it’s a short story, so know that the angst doesn’t last long. The feelings are so deep and visceral. I loved it.

Jesus, Etc. by fellshish. Rated G, 7k. P. Aug 23.

Funny and lighthearted fix-it fic. Aziraphale and Crowley show Jesus around on earth while Aziraphale tries to delay the second coming. Of course they are mad at each other. Someone might pick up on the reason why.

Series:

Bad Communication by Nebz_AlphaCentauri. Rated T. Total series words 14k. P. Sep 23.

This series has three season 3 works: Bad Advice (Up There With A Suggestion Box); Bad Management (Up There With Not Allowing Questions); Bad Communication (Almost Ineffably Bad But Not Quite).

The stories are set a week after Aziraphale goes to heaven. One is from Crowley's POV, one from Aziraphale's POV and in the third one they finally talk. Funny and Heartwarming.