#but at some point i feel like there's a bit of a logical line. just like. within the context of what the show is and what happens during it

[lukolathoughts]

Nicola loves the girls, the gays, and Luke Newton.

Dearest gentle readers,

Well! What an interesting few days. I'm not sure where to even start. I just want to let Jakeholes know, this isn't the blog for you, so it's best you move along now before you start foaming at the mouth.

In my first blog, I touched on subtext and reading between the lines. This is something I teach to my students and encourage their critical thinking skills. I will give out a photo and ask my students to 'infer' from what they can see in the photograph. 'Inference is a process of deriving logical conclusions from premises known or assumed to be true. It is also a guess or an opinion that is formed based on the information that you have.' In an exam, if I gave the students a photograph and they simply told me that all they could see was that the sky was blue, the grass was green, the lady is wearing a green coat and the man a hoodie and a baseball hat, they would not get very many marks.

However, if they described what they could 'infer' from the photo, such as that handhold does not look genuine and his fingers are stiff, their laughter seems over the top, the man isn't wearing a coat in January. They seem to be looking directly at the photographer, they never make eye contact in any of the photos. This would get them some more marks. Then if they went that one step further and asked WHY to all these points and backed it up with a statement explaining why - they would get even more marks. For example, why isn't the man wearing a coat in January? This could suggest the weather is not that cold in London at the moment, or the this picture might be from an earlier time period. They could look at the shop displays for evidence. Why does the lady never make eye contact with the man, could it infer that she is uncomfortable doing so or the thought never occurred to her? Why are they looking directly at the photographer? Could it possibly indicate they knew the paparazzi were there? And why would they want the paparazzi to take their photo's? What do you say to that class? Are they a couple happily in love? Write me a story on it, one, two, three go! They say a picture paints a thousand words.

Now since Deux Moi dropped the photos just as I was cooking the kid's tea (British slang for dinner) I have once again been glued to Twitter. I had to take a break for a bit and ensure my offspring didn't starve, but I thought oh god another shitshow and the day isn't even over. But I open Instagram and I swear I had the best laugh I have had all day really. I'm not sure when these photos were taken. The weather does look mild to be January and Jake is wearing a hoodie, but my husband is stupid like this and walks around in board shorts. In January. In Wales. When I tell you it's baltic cold, I mean it. But men apparently don't feel the cold especially if you're 24 and plastered to the side of your bestie or PR girlfriend, however you prefer. Us Brits love analysing the weather, probably because it's so shit here. So the timing is not really the issue for me. What made me laugh was was those two belly-laughing in some London alleyway looking like, 'look at us, we're so funny, everything is hilarious haha.' This was quite surprising to me as I genuinely did not realise Jake had a sense of humour, especially around Nic. What did she say that was so funny? We know she has the ability to make Luke belly laugh just by scratching her nose really. It was almost as if it was all a bit orchestrated for the cameras they were staring directly at. 'Smile and laugh for the camera Jake! You've been framed!'

So what was this? A PR set up that Nic and Jake were clearly aware of? Call me sceptical, but I've never seen anything so obviously fake and staged in all my life. Well except the motorbike segment on Graham Norton on the 13th of December last year. I have thought a lot about this and I know I might get some hate, but it's my opinion and I'm sorry Nic if you ever read this. Another thing us English teachers like to do is DESCRIBE things. Describe it to me Peter, or it didn't happen. Touch, smell, sound, taste, sight. Those are the five senses and if you write me a story, you bet your ass they better be in it or it's an F for you. So Nicola, describe to me how it felt racing through London on the back of a motorbike driven by a geriatric, Guinness drinking granddad (do you like my use of alliteration here fellow English teachers?). Graham Norton - 'we have a picture of you on the bike!' Erm, no you have a picture of Nicola stood next to the bike with her thumbs up. There was a video released by her PR company simultaneously that shows Nicola in a STUDIO sitting on the bike and it moving very, very slowly. We do not see her whizzing away up the road on the back of said bike into oblivion, screaming like Michelle Phieffer in Grease 2, clutching on to cool rider Guinness granddad for dear life. In fact, when asked about the experience she recalls literally nothing. If it was me, I'd have been like OMG Graham I almost died! The wind was howling, I was freezing, all I could hear was the rush of wind and the honking horns of cars. All I could see was the glare of lights and traffic and I tasted my own tears through fear.

Watch it if you don't believe me. There was nothing. Am I positive it didn't happen? Actually yes, show me the footage and I'll believe. Why did she go through this elaborate scheme? I have my theories and I will not share them here. I have said enough. But I did get an image in my mind of Luke in Rome rubbing his forehead and thinking, what is she up to now? He was probably secretly a bit proud.

Ok back to tonight's debacle. After the shit show that was Luke's disastrous family weekend than had more taps dripping than the Leaky Cauldron in Harry Potter, I find it highly convenient these photos drop today of all days. I know that Nicola HATES Deux Moi and the feeling I believe is mutual. Wouldn't DM have looked at these photos logically and thought, well these two look like besties out for a stroll? I suppose she does not care, whatever sells right? Was this to yet again spite Nicola?

Or was this Nicola who saw everything that Luke endured this weekend, and quietly told her PR team to 'drop' the photos of me with Jake to divert some attention away. Did she come charging in on her white horse (motorbike) to save the day? There is also the highly suspicious tanned photo of Nic at the WT premiere and then Luke's photo from the funeral, (I do not condone this by the way and I was upset for him this morning and his invasion of privacy) which also shows a bit of a red, sunburned face. Did Nicola once again panic and try to control the narrative? I am lately still picking up on her nervous, scared energy in my readings. She is very nine of swords in her head. Losing sleep etc.

I do love a good mystery and folks, I guess if you are reading this and nodding and not screaming obscenities at me through your screen, I guess you are stuck here with me on the ship for the long haul. I actually loved these photos tonight as it gave me a good laugh and and it proved to me even further that Jake is to Nic what Kurt Hummel is to Rachel Berry. Besties. It is also quite ironic that the first pap pics of them last October dropped the week his trailer for WT dropped and these photos land the week his film is released! What are the chances! Coincidence, Sherlock?

PS. No I do NOT believe Antonia was at Luke's family member's funeral. We have to stop treating this girl like the bogeyman. Let her go and live her life. Luke is living his I have no doubt.

PPS. It is not homophobic to recognise someone is gay. I INFER this from his own Instagram and his friends and partner's posts. I am fed up of being called homophobic when I have a lot of gay friends and two gay cousins.

PPPS. Luke and Nic sitting in a tree, KISSSING. I see you Nic, you savvy little mamma ;,)

[my-current-obsession]

I am taking note of every single villager who honestly suggests that Micah's half-monster status might have given his chosen bride cold feet and led to her running away and they are ALL dropping several positions in my internal character ranking.

[blueish-bird]

Logic’s album College Park why are there skits built in to the last half of the majority of these songs? why are they not separate tracks? im enjoying the saxophone on Clone Wars III only to be forced to listen to a drawn-out staged Carl’s Jr. drive thru order. in what context is this relistenable?

[halfdeadwallfly]

<3 love ofmd but tbh getting real tired of constantly seeing shit about it <3

[vaguely-concerned]

My two cents on how much of Mind!Varric is Rook’s mind trying to fill the blank space and how much is Solas actively talking through a convenient blood magic paper doll of the mind: I think it's a mix of both, a truly collaborative psychosocial horrorshow if you would, but waaaay more towards the second. It feels too directed and tactical at times to be anything else. Rook's mind is willing to go along with the denial phase as far as it can fucking carry them to not have to face the grief and regret and does its part in papering over details that don’t make any sense, the way brains will strive to create coherent meaning even out of deeply confusing input, but to my understanding it's a collaborateur in how that plays out, not the instigator or control center. Solas is using it as a path to agency and to gather insight into Rook as a person unguarded as he can't count on in his own guise. (That stoic option that leads to him being like 'oh I see you're cautiously denying me access to your inner life. well. at least you still have Varric to talk to. y'know as an outlet :)'. You absolute BITCH Solas! That alone convinced me that he HAS to have an active hand in it on some level.)

My guess is that it takes considerable effort on Solas’ part to make Mind!Varric do anything more involved or complicated than seeming to sit up in bed and give casual commentary, and that’s why he keeps having eerie five minute shallow pep talks with you before he announces he conveniently needs a nap aaanyway good luck kid you got this haha. When he’s just spouting NPC lines from his bedrest, I’m ready to believe that could be Rook’s mind being allowed to improv lines for him more freely because it’s less about Solas trying to get something out of them or working an angle and more ‘Still here! Still totally alive and fine and the mentor figure you know and love and trust :) don’t even worry about it! Thankfully there is no war in Ba Sing Sei, as we all know’ upkeep work lol. Rook’s mind is allowed to set the tone of Varric, the outlines, but not always the content. 

AND, on a (beautifully fucked up) character psychology level, I feel like Solas is indulging in actually getting to be the good supportive mentor figure to Rook with one hand to assuage the guilt he feels about what he's done -- and what he's going to do -- to them with the other. Same internal logic as he uses in Trespasser about the Qun. ‘Almost everyone is going to die from the course of action I’m doggedly pursuing eventually. But at least I can make their last years happier and freer and kinder than they would have been otherwise. and that kind of makes up for it right. a little bit. doesn't it. doesn't that make it better at least. I need that to make it better)'. Did I really take your beloved mentor and friend from you if you don’t know yet that I did? Some philosophers would argue not really! So it’s probably almost ok actually. Isn’t it even a little noble that I’m taking all this grief and guilt on myself and shielding you for now. With undertones that I’m not sure he would realize himself (and might be mortified by if he did) that he is so incredibly lonely, and even a dishonest and indirect emotional connection is more than nothing when you’re that desperate. In this setup he gets idk. Both the control he craves so incredibly badly in relationships and over himself, and the scraps, the fading afterimages, of intimacy and warmth and companionship, even second hand. The one thing Solas and Rook agree on deep deep down is that they really wish Varric weren't gone. They're handshake memeing this in the saddest and most creepy way possible.

I think an important element too is that Solas needs Rook and their team to *succeed* —  up to a certain point. He needs someone to hold the two other elven mean girls off until he can get out of here. Ideally, in a perfect world, even do all the hard work of killing them so he can swoop in at the end and do his thing when both sides are exhausted and out of resources to stop him, and then Bob’s your uncle! Same logic as he was using with Corypheus, and after that worked out so well, too! King of choosing to never learn from a single solitary mistake he’s ever made even though i fully believe he could have the capacity to Fen’Harel <3 The underlying idea isn’t flawed, you see, it was just unforeseen circumstances getting in the way. This time for sure it’ll all work out the way I cleverly imagined it in my head beforehand. Cue By Talos this can’t be happening etc. in the form of a statue almost crushing him like a bug. 

So he's providing guidance and forging Rook into a leader from two angles: one Rook might not trust, and one they probably will. Shaping them into what he needs slowly and carefully. He’s helping you hone your team into their most effective state, as he might have done with his own agents back in the day, setting up his chess pieces even if he has to squint through two glimpsed realities to do it haha. Pincer maneuver of an insidious stealth mentor you never asked for. Also… at one point mind Varric gives you a whole little monologue about how Solas' problem is that he’s always seen his interpersonal connections as flaws and see where it’s landed him, all alone and the worst part? it hasn’t even worked. it’s all been for nothing he’s back where he began with nothing to show for it but his mistakes. Like...that has such strong 'uh okay happy to play your therapist from two rooms away here what the fuck kind of traumadump is this' energy to me, I’m not sure Rook like. Thinks that much about Solas as a private person. So much of Solas' self-loathing and futile insights into his own flaws seem to shine through in Mind!Varric's dialogue all the time — I just can't believe that there's no guiding hand behind it as it were. 

Most of all. I feel like people underestimate the degree to which Solas is incredibly funny. As in, he has a very consistent and recognizable sense of humour. It’s one of my very favourite things about him. We must remember — it is crucial that we always keep in mind — Orlesian accent and wig Solas from May The Dread Wolf Take You (my beloved, the explanation for why I love this dude even with the. All of the everything else. No one does it quite like him). He is not at all above doing things or adding little flourishes for his own obscure amusement, in fact that seems to me to be one of his most consistent traits. The Randy Dowager Quarterly comment Varric has? The ‘Maybe this is the Dread Wolf’s revenge. Forcing us to house sit for him’ thing? To Me this is 100% Solas amusing himself in his boring Fade jail surrounded by the screaming hellscape of all his regrets. Source: it came to me as divine revelation through pure vibes trust me bro 

If nothing else I find it much more narratively interesting personally if the connection between Rook and Solas really is that defenselessly intimate and entwined (and so unbalanced!), and the sense of violation and invasion and betrayal afterwards consequently all the more nauseatingly intense. Even if you kept him at arm’s length in the open, he’s been under your skin the whole time, looking around, gathering what he needs to destroy you, wearing the face of a friend. Regretfully, probably, but choosing to do it every step of the way anyway. (Sound familiar, Inquisitor? Solas doesn’t have that many tricks when you actually look at it, he keeps returning to old tried and true ones like a dog with a bone haha.) Maybe he even genuinely meant some of it as mercy, which only makes it so much worse. It makes his sin against his own core principles of autonomy and the freedom of all beings in mind, spirit and body so much more juicily grave if it’s something he pursues actively and consistently, rather than it half-falling into his lap as a happy accident mainly orchestrated by Rook’s own subconscious. Solas, too, is at his very lowest point, the closest to giving in and becoming his own antithesis fully that he’s ever been, and it makes the choice of whether you still reach out your hand to him one last time or not all the more impactful and difficult.

[cherie-doll]

Cheriee, some mood on harmless funny prank? Asking husband to leave the room so we can change.

https://youtube.com/shorts/Bz1JXk4WU3I?si=VrSSHU4aEDT2cngj

This is the cutest one I found- maybe because there's children? Haha.

Please have fun and take it easy ❤

Aww, I love this video.. I've been rewatching it

Asking your cod husband to leave the room while you change

♡︎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ɞ Price would immediately turn his head at any sign he might pick up on your feeling down. He figured this might be one of those times. So he's turning to you and asking what's wrong. Did someone say something? You're worth a lot in his eyes.

ɞ If you asked and didn't sound serious Simon would only grunt and laugh, shaking his head at your request. He would think there would be some truth or meaning so he'd get up because he understands wanting space.

ɞ Johnny was probably talking, going off about something as he waited for you to finish getting ready to go out. That is until you interrupted him to tell him you wanted to change your outfit but if he could please walk out. He sat there speechless for a minute before asking if you were okay.

ɞ Kyle would think it might have something to do with your self-esteem. Maybe you didn't feel well that day so him being the caring and gentle husband he is, went over to you gave you a peck on the cheek and started reciting all the reasons why he loved you.

ɞ Roach would be the one to be the most understanding and doesn't question anything. Silently crawling out the door saying you look great in anything you wear and he loves you and will be waiting outside. ARGGH- go give him a kiss.

ɞ Alejandro is raising an eyebrow at you right now. Would think you might be having a bit of body dysmorphia and start reciting beautiful verses of how beautiful your body is that would put Shakespeare and Napoleon's letters to Josephine to shame.

ɞ Rudy was understandably confused at first. He wondered if he'd done something or said anything that made you feel uncomfortable showing your body around him. Still he understood that perhaps you wanted some privacy, he sweetly smiled and nodded as he stood up.

ɞ Phillip is sighing as if he didn't watch you give birth, as if he hasn't showered with you before. He's glancing over to the kids and just going "yep, okay I'll go".

ɞ Makarov bought the clothes you're trying on right now. He thinks he has the right to watch you try it on AND change in front of him. Unless... something is wrong?!

ɞ You're crazy if you think Keegan is walking out as simple as that. He's leaning back and getting comfortable. "You act as if I haven't watched you change before".

ɞ König just holds up the baby like going "??" and you just nod and point to the door. Yeah, okay he's leaving. Takes the kid too, maybe he'll be in the kitchen making a bottle for it while you finish up in there.

ɞ Horangi is grounding himself to that chair and not moving. Matter of fact he's getting up and helping you get out of those clothes and helping you change personally. Would drop a few teasing lines here and there.

ɞ Nikto would just stare at you. The logic is not there for him right now, he's holding the fat baby you BOTH made on his lap as he watches you show him your new clothing item. He just stays silent but doesn't move, if you don't want him there just go into the bathroom and change there.

[viperwhispered]

Notes on Jamil's speech patterns

I was supposed to just pick out some examples of typical Jamil lines. How he speaks, the vocabulary he uses, things like that. Something I could easily refer to when writing to get the tone right.

But then it kinda blew up, oop – because it’s hard to talk about how a character speaks without also dipping into why they say whatever they say.

Plus then I wanted to get examples of Jamil in different moods, and could not resist some poignant things that were more related to his character or backstory rather than strictly the speech patterns themselves, so… It expanded a bit.

Anyways. Some things I noticed he tends to do:

Sighs (more than I realized)

Snarks

Tch (though could be a more general twst writing choice too)

Stutters when he’s flustered / embarrassed / caught of guard (what a cutie)

Goes ahem like an old man when he’s trying to get back on track in those off-kilter moments

Kinda formal with his manner of speech and choice of words (especially in servant mode) (I always worry I exaggerate this but he sure does do that)

But there’s still some animatedness with the way he emphasises words, for example

(so long-suffering and ready to bark out directions to Kalim oh boy - the way the directness just comes through when he loses it)

sugarcoating his opinions if he doesn’t feel like he can say them plainly (tyrant becomes rigorous, etc.)

sarcasm, sometimes with a side of deadpan, sometimes with a smirk

“Good grief” (another thing I didn't realize was that much of a catchphrase)

Very mild on the level of insults & swears honestly, (I mean, "drat"?) but I imagine this is more of a result of the game's rating (I guess for in-game reasons we can say he's been very conditioned by his upbringing)

I put the screenshots that seemed telling, and some related notes, on to a google sheet. That way one can filter and order it in various ways.

The sheet is probably best viewed on a computer or another larger screen, the screenshots might make it a bit difficult to navigate on mobile.

I did go in with the assumption that Jamil might speak differently pre-overblot (when the servant mask is firmly in place) and post-overblot (at least those occasions where he allows himself to be more honest). Like, there’s the sycophantic (as Leona calls it) flatterer, versus when Jamil’s honestly voicing his own thoughts. Which also shows in how I chose to categorize the screenshots.

Of course events are a bit wibbly wobbly in relation to the main story so can’t be placed in the timeline in the same way, but there are still those occasions where it seems you can tell the difference between the servant mask and a Jamil who’s not saying things just for the sake of appearances.

So, to explain the logic of the sheet:

First column has a screenshot of something Jamil says. The second two columns give the source.

The column for whether or not this happened before or after the overblot is only really used for main story things, since event stories are kinda murky timeline-wise.

Next is whether Jamil seems to be putting on the servant mask or speaking more honestly. This is where get more to interpretation territory, and I’ve not applied it to every screenshot (either because that didn’t seem like the relevant part for that line, or because I couldn’t tell).

The last column of the sheet is where we get most to my personal interpretations. So of course you might read these lines differently than I do, and that’s completely fine, these are simply the aspects that seemed poignant to me. Some notes are simply pointing out specific word choices or style of speech, others delve more into character analysis side of things.

Totally fine if you want to copy this file or modify it to your own needs. All I ask is that you don’t pass off anything I wrote as your own thoughts.

Order of lines is based purely on the order the pics were in my screenshots folder, so guess this is also an insight on the order I played things in, lol.

Tagging some jamil peeps in case y'all find this useful:

@crystallizsch @diodellet @moonyasnow @twstgo @lex752

@majestickitty @viperbunnies

[plutoasteroids]

PAC - How Will Your FS' Siblings Feel About You

This is a general reading so take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Especially because not everyone's FS has siblings so if you aren't drawn to a pile that could be why or there are just no messages for you in this reading.

THIS READING IS ALLEGEDLY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY CHOICES MADE IN RELATION TO MY READINGS!

Pile 1 is the picture of Alexa Demie in sunglasses

Pile 2 is the Black and White picture

Pile 3 the picture with Fairy wings

Pile 4 The picture with her holding a knif3

PILE 1

Okay I do feel like your FS' siblings may be unsure of you at first because you might be someone completely different from their usual type for example you could be of a different race or background that they aren't used to so they may feel a bit sceptical about you especially at the very early stages of them getting to know you. Regardless of a tough first impression I feel like most of their siblings will eventually like you but there is one sibling that will hate your guts and the reasons could vary from person to person but overall it's just this vibe of them feeling like you aren't good enough for their sibling (your fs) and to be honest I don't think that specific sibling will ever like you there is a lot of deep-rooted jealousy and insecurity that you trigger in them without you knowing but anyways it won't affect your marriage/ relationship with your fs or the rest of their family. For the actually nice siblings of your fs, I feel like you will all have a lot of fun together going on adventures and trips and just enjoying life. At some point which will be pretty early on they might even start seeing you as their sibling and it will feel like things aren't complete if you aren't there too (sooo sweet). To be honest I feel you will have a specific one of your fs sibling that you will be super super close with just the connection is flowy and fun, it will feel like you guys are life long best friends. Don't worry about the one hater they genuinely won't matter, it will be annoying but it won't matter. Your fs family will be on your side and your fs side so they will immediately shut down the bs every time they act out of line.

PILE 2

Okayyyy so you guys are my controversial pile lmfaooo. So, upon first impression your fs' siblings will definitely find you confident, sexy alluring, badass and just glamorous. You take care of yourself and dress well and they can see that some more than others. I feel like you won't necessarily have a friendly relationship with your fs' siblings it will be more civil than anything especially because I feel like you won't see them much, so you won't get the chance to build a deeper relationship with them. I also feel like you have your fs wrapped around your little finger and they do notice this it's honestly obvious to everyone that your fs worships the actual ground you walk on but anywayssss. To the controversial bit I do feel like your fs will have a sibling that will have a bit of a crush on you but its nothing more than an innocent crush and it won't develop into anything more and I do feel like it will be something that will be joked about for a long time. My pile 2 I feel like you will be marrying into money. So overall this will be a very civil relationship with them no hate, no jealousy, you just get along with them well especially on the few ocassions that you do and will see them.

PILE 3

Okay, they will view you as pretty innocent. They may be the type to make overtly inappropriate jokes and you may not react to them, or you will seem confused making you innocent in their eyes. I feel like your fs' siblings are more on the loud, fun, obnoxious side and you aren't like that so to them they will view you as quite shy and reserved because you aren't acting as loud and carefree as they are. I feel like you are the type to use logic and be more observant in situations involving people which will extend to them feeling like you are quite cold towards them which isn't the caseagain because oyu are more of an observer than someone who will engage inw hatever they are doing. They may not necessarily like you nor will they ahte you because you will still be quite polite it's just that you won't engage in their version of fun which may make them see you as stuck up and a bit boring. Overall, the relationship here feels a bit rough round the edges but it will get better with time as you all learn each other they will understand that it's just how you are and there is no bad blood between all of you.

PILE 4

This pile is not afraid to get down and dirty. You are outspoken, confident and the no bullshit type. You may like things direct and straight to the point which might honestly catch people off guard and in this case your fs' siblings. I feel like they may have grown up in a setting where you have to always be polite or pick your words carefully, but you aren't like that which might come as a shock and will take a lot of getting used to on their end. I feel like there is equal learning, you learning to be more sensitive because not everyone takes being overly direct well ad them learning that you mean well but you are just very open and outspoken. I feel like overall though they will like you and you will get along quite well with them it will just take some getting used to each other. I wouldn't say you will be the best of friends, but you will certainly get along well with each other, and you will make good memories together. They will learn to let loose, and you will have wild, childlike fun...eventually.

[secriden]

Absolutely heartrending because it just hit me that before Bison's phone call, Fadel was actually began to believe that he'd been wrong to suspect Style. Because despite the evidence stacked against Style -- and remember, it was Fadel that spells out the reasons they have to be suspicious of Kant and Style -- Style is so incredibly genuine here and Fadel, in truth, wanted to believe in him.

I think it's possible that Fadel actually saw Style through the window here, but pretended not to because he had to take a moment to prepare himself. But if you see where Style is standing and the way the patio is lit up, there's no reason why Fadel shouldn't have seen him from where he was by the tables before he turns to go behind the counter.

Fadel: I was thinking of going to your place. But you were more impatient than me, huh?

This would also explain how Fadel is able to say this before Style even has the chance to make a sound. I had expected Fadel to wait and see what Style would say, to play it safe and observe; but no, Fadel immediately sets their dynamic back to the assumption of familiarity that their relationship was on before he disappeared for a week. The assumption that he could show up at Style's house unannounced and Style would welcome him.

This feels incredibly intentional. Fadel wants to see how Style is going to react to Fadel acting as if nothing strange happened. If Style was an informant, he should be confused and Fadel may catch him out in a lie.

But Style's performance is flawless:

Style: Where have you been? You didn't reply any of my texts! (punctuation added for emphasis and to mimic Style's tone)

He says this and the whine in his tone is a clear affirmation of that same assumption of familiarity. This is the tone used by someone who is secure in the knowledge that they are owed an explanation; this is the tone of someone in an established relationship who feels justifiably wronged at being left out of the loop.

And I cry a little bit more at the thought of Fadel reading those texts -- Style by turns frantic and confused and worried -- and refusing to respond. Or worse, receiving them and refusing to even read them because Fadel doesn't trust himself to tell the lies from the truth anymore.

At this point, Fadel seems to waver a little bit in his resolve to "test" Style. I think he was a little taken aback that Style didn't seem to be even a little bit weird about his abrupt disappearance for a week. His reply takes on a quality of gentle pleading and the way he's speaking is exactly like a boyfriend who knows he messed up. But because these lines are a lie, Fadel cannot meet Style's eyes as he says them. It's only when he says "I was busy, too" (not a lie) that he's finally able to squarely meet Style's gaze again.

And Style continues to be so convincingly NORMAL because all of this is real for him. This is just genuinely Style, the boyfriend, who actually wants to know where his boyfriend disappeared to without notice for a whole week. Nothing about his body language or tone has even a hint of inauthenticity because there is none. Style means every single word and meets Fadel's gaze squarely as he says them.

It genuinely looks to me like Fadel thaws significantly at this point. He suddenly looks less stiff and the way he delivers this line contains so much more inflection, it becomes cajoling. He even begins to more consistently meet Style's eyes as Fadel begins to allow himself some honesty. Fadel's logical brain knows that the circumstances surrounding Style coming into his life are riddled with inconsistencies, but he both senses and WANTS to see Style's sincerity. The shields that Fadel had up are melting in the face of Style being present and unchanged from what Fadel remembers.

Stay, Fadel all but says, let me make it up to you. Fadel offering to make food for Style (@braceletofteeth please hold me as I cry about this!!) is also significant because the last time Fadel made food for Style (the burger) is when he was softening towards Style after Style helped out at the diner during the rush crowd. Fadel is a creature of habit and all that he's learned of late are the ways Style is easy to love.

They begin to fall back into their usual, playful banter and teasing dynamic. Style leans back against the table (and the way he's all unspoken surrender and submission -- throat arched up and bare and vulnerable -- truly makes me feral), turns up the flirt and Fadel responds in kind. And yes, Fadel means his question on some level but you don't get the sense that his heart is in the interrogation. Fadel may be going through the motions, but this is just Style being himself, exactly as Fadel has come to know (and love), so nothing is pinging as wrong to Fadel.

I mean, just LOOK AT FADEL'S EYES!! His expression is so so soft and tender and wistful. He wants this. He wants so desperately to believe that this is why Style was texting him throughout the week. He wants to have Style in all the ways that include and go beyond the physical; like Style offering his affection is everything Fadel didn't think he could wish for.

It's almost cruel the way Style's touch so utterly disarms Fadel. Because, while it is part of the games they've been playing, so much of their interactions have also been grounded in genuine feelings and moments of intense vulnerability on both sides (although neither of them know this for sure!! T_T). Style's hands on Fadel's body literally removes the last stretch of distance between them and that odd unease lingered over the way Fadel spoke and held himself at the start of the scene finally disappears.

If we compare their expressions and the way they are holding themselves and, most importantly, touching each other by the end of the scene to what we see when Style first walks into the diner, it becomes apparent just how much ground Fadel has given in the span of those few minutes.

It's the way Fadel keeps holding onto Style's hand even as he's turning to leave, maintaining that point of contact until the very last second.

Because with Style in front of him -- warm and familiar and carelessly affectionate -- Fadel allows himself to slip back to the version of himself that woke up in Style's bed at the start of the episode, the version of himself that called Style's name for the first time and wanted to wake him up with the softest of touches. The version of himself that literally, physically couldn't let Style go.

Which is why, when the call comes and Fadel's heart gets broken anew, Fadel remains devastatingly empty of anger towards Style.

Because it was Fadel's own fault for choosing to believe the lie.

Because it was a decision he made to allow his heart to rule over his head.

Because Fadel understands that Style only succeeded in "fooling" him once again because Fadel let him.

So Fadel gives himself this truth, allows himself to finally take that step to bare his heart to Style, the way he promised himself he never would, but the way he so desperately wanted.

And Style kisses Fadel because he doesn't realise that this confession is not a reward, but a judgement.

For Fadel is paying penance for giving in to his own foolish heart, and in so doing renders Style's love to devastation.

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes Chapter 6

masterpost

“Have you experienced events that could be described as fatal?” Danny read from his notebook. Before Jason could answer he continued, “Do you know the name and species of all your progenitors? Have you ever wondered if you are-” 

Jason held a hand up to ask for silence. He was in the zone on a training module that Barbie had sent to the whole team. He was not going to get any more shit from fucking Tim and Stephanie about being an out of touch old man like Bruce who ran code directly from the 90s.

Danny cut himself off to wait. Without looking up, Jason could see some kind of bouncing movement that had to be Danny fidgeting. “You’re early,” Jason eventually said. He shut the program that he’d been running and then blinked his full attention over to his date. “It’s not- is it 5 already?” He blinked away the gumminess in his eyes and checked the time. 

Danny flushed a little green. His freckles glowed a little whiter in contrast. “No, it’s 4:30,” he admitted sheepishly. “I, uh, left work a little early.” He floated up and then abruptly over into a flip. Like an antsy mermaid. Jason leaned back and watched, fascinated by how easy movement looked on Danny. It was the way he’d used to see Dick, but now he knew how hard Dick’s easy mobility was earned.

“You don’t feel gravity at all, do you?” He confirmed, envious and charmed. 

“Uhh.. Can’t say that I do,” Danny admitted. He shrugged. “Not like this, anyway. I do in my human body, obviously.”

“Is that literally-” Jason cut himself off with a mortified flush. Holy shit. You can’t just ask someone if they have a magical transformation into their own corpse. Insensitive much?

Danny gave him a knowing look but gracefully ignored the question. “Anyway. Do you remember what I asked earlier?” He cocked his head to the side and full body wiggled. “I had Frostbite help me write them out. Undead health isn’t really my area, but he knows everything that’s ever been known, which is pretty cool.”

“Uh…” Jason thought back. “I told you when we were eating that I died once,” he reminded Danny with a raised eyebrow. “So that’s an easy yes.”

Danny shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t know how serious you were or if you were describing something extremely short term like needing afib or something longer term-”

“Dead, buried, in the ground for months,” Jason admitted. “Presumably rotted, but I came back to myself with living human physiology, if extremely damaged from what killed me.” It was really gross to think about. It was also impossible to totally avoid. There should have been no coming back from all the blood drying up and shit.

Danny stared at him with an open mouth for a few seconds. Long enough that Jason fidgeted, uncomfortable.

“That’s the most metal shit I’ve ever heard in my life,” Danny said reverentially. “That’s so nasty, man. You rotted? Does this make me more of a necrophiliac than you?”

Jason choked on his own spit.

Danny did another flip.

“My parents were definitely human,” Jason managed, voice strangled. Best to get this back on topic. “I know for sure. I’ve met them both.”

Danny blew a raspberry. “It’s not always obvious,” he pointed out 

“Anything that would show up on Batman’s DNA analysis can be ruled out,” Jason corrected himself. “And neither of them had any non-human capabilities. Died from things that a Tamaraean or Kryptonian would be able to get out of.” 

“...Oddly specific species mentions,” Danny said. A line formed between his brows. His toes touched down to earth and he crossed his arms. “You… I wasn’t thinking of that type of non-human.” He cleared his throat. “It’s just that, you touched Wolf.”

“And a Kryptonisn wouldn’t be able to?” Jason asked a bit dryly. He didn’t understand the logic.

“Not unless they were really juicy with death,” Danny said in a weirdly mellow tone for such a disgusting sentence.

Jason gagged a little. He couldn’t help it. Oh, christ. Yeah, bodies got wet and shit after a while, but characterizing that as juicy? That was out of line.

“Not like- not like that!” Danny fluttered his hands at Jason, torn between horror and cackling. “I don’t mean like, dead and rotting. I mean dead and reanimated with ectoplasm. Souped with the sweet nectar of the afterlife. Wolf is a ghost, man.” He snickered.

“Wolf is a ghost,” Jason repeated.

Danny frowned. “Wolf,” he said. “Not Wolf.”

“What?” They sounded the same.

“You’re saying it wrong,” Danny said, saying the name the exact same way that Jason had been. “It’s Wolf, not Wolf.”

Jason stared at him warily. “...Spell it for me.”

“W-U-L-F,”  Danny rattled.

Ah. Ok. Jason took that onboard. “Wulf is a ghost,” he said again. “And therefore I ought not be able to touch him. I can touch you.”

“Like this? For sure.” Danny went through his flashbang light-show and shook out his newly black hair. “I’m a physical being. In my ghost form, I can consciously let you touch me. But Wulf was actively in the Ghost Zone when you hit him. You put your hand into the Ghost Zone and smacked him. The living have ghostly properties in the Ghost Zone. He’s tangible there but you should have been intangible.”

“...Maybe I’m a ghost?” Jason posited, cocking his head slightly as he said it. Danny was the expert. “I never found any answer for why I just woke up in my grave one day.”

“You just woke up?” Danny repeated, delighted. He put his hands on his face, breathed into them heavily, and then ran both hands through his hair. “That’s sick. That’s fucking sick, man. Did you have to dig yourself out like a zombie?”

…Did Danny think this was like, hot, and not disturbing? “Tore off my fingernails on the coffin splinters,” Jason confirmed, fascinated with what a little freak this guy was. Danny’s pupil dilated at the words. Jason could almost have been offended because that shit was traumatic, but hey. 

If he really thought about it. It was sick as fuck.

“I think yes, by the way,” Jason decided. He waited for Danny to give him a questioning look  before he elaborated. “You’re a monsterfucker, my guy. I’m attracted to you, but not because you’re dead. Whereas you’re clearly into the fact that I’m a dead guy.” 

Danny opened his mouth. He shut it. He put a hand over his mouth. “Huh,” he said. “Huh.” His brow furrowed. “If I said it was scientific curiosity and that passion for death runs in my family- no, I hear it.” He flapped a hand at Jason to cut off the laugh he couldn’t stop. “Hush. Okay. Fine.” He stood up a little straighter. “I’m a necrophiliac and I’m proud.”

A window banged shut in the kitchen and there was a clatter as someone’s shitty little brother fell into the sink.

“...Hi, Duke!” Danny called.

Jason put his hand over his face.

“Hi, Danny!” Duke called back, voice choked. “Good to hear from you, man.”

“You can’t fucking be here!” Jason said between his fingers. “I have plans, you shitty Zebra mussel.”

Danny looked at him.

“...What?” Duke asked. He came into the room to frown at Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes. “New Zealand mud snail.” They still didn’t get it. “Spotted lantern fly.” 

Blank stares.

“Fucksake,” said Jason. “I’m calling you an invasive species.”

Danny laughed. Duke made a loud pffft sound and unlocked his phone. He held it up and showed them the screen. “Would the New Zealand zebra lantern fly have this?” He triumphantly brandished his phone screen, which was a screenshot of his chat with Jason where he’d confirmed that he had permission to come over.

“New Zealand zebra lantern fly,” Jason repeated, vexed as fuck. “You know damn well-”

“It checks out, boss,” Danny reported, leaning back from Duke’s phone. “Looks like he’s allowed in. Let ‘im use your TV while we go out.”

“Yeah, let me use your TV while you go on a date,” Duke echoed, clearly enjoying this a lot.

“...I’ll get my coat,” Jason said sullenly. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

“We’ll bring you back dinner,” Danny told Duke.

Jason stalked away into his bedroom, wondering when he’d lost the plot to his own life.

[taelophone]

Luigi M; A Look ⋆˙⟡ — A Luigi Mangione Analysis ⋆⭒˚｡⋆. A/N: I am not claiming to know or understand him as a person lol. I simply wanna do a lil surface dive on him as a person to try and shed some light on what I think he's like!

Please note; All links are tweets Luigi himself has reposted, or are things from his mouth that he has typed. VIA Reddit, twitter, etc etc. All retweets will be marked with *

⟡ Luigi as a person (good, and bad)

⋆ After many many hours of scouring this man’s socials and any sort of archive of him I can find, I’ve gathered a handful of interpretations and ideas as to what Luigi was like prior to his surgery. And I say that last part specifically because he showed a v drastic change directly after his surgery, and literally went M.I.A.

Luigi is a very empathetic and intelligent man, this is a surface level fact that we can all agree on. He’s been shown to go out of his way for other people even when he doesn’t have to. But please don’t let that fool you this man is a KEYBOARD. WARRIOR.

⋆ He LIVES for the debate. In fact, he fucking loves debating. I wouldn’t go as far as saying he loves arguing, but if there’s a point being made and he feels strongly about it, he will type pages upon pages of text explaining in great detail exactly why you are wrong.

He’s said time and time before in a retweeted post that freethinking* is a very important part of life, and here’s where I say he’s…a bit of a hypocrite. His love for debate kind of keeps him from seeing another person’s POV, which makes for a hell of a storm when disagreeing with him. In short, he’s stubborn. A very stubborn man, but he is open to hearing the other person out versus not listening to them at all.

And I have a strong feeling his stubborn demeanor coincides with the fact that he knows he’s smart. Don’t get me wrong, he seems like he usually knows what he’s talking about, but that’s the problem. If you tell him about something that’s been bothering you or going wrong in your life, he will spit out 99 solutions for you. He’s the kind of guy where he will probably resort to both comfort AND unsolicited advice, although its likely he got better at the latter later down the line.

⋆ Shying away from him being stubborn, there’s another key part of this man that I DONT SEE BEING TALKED ABOUT ENOUGHHH OMG. SASSY MAN. SASSY SASSY SAASSSSYY MAN.

You can expect shade, eye rolls, silent treatment, head shakes, and possibly even a snarky comment from him. He’s all about becoming a better person and stuck on self betterment, but he is not afraid to show his visible disdain for something. He has very dry and unexpected humor, but he doesn’t realize it. He’s funny in a way where he doesn’t mean to be.

But when he’s trying to make a joke? Oh god help me he’s so so so cheesy and so corny that it makes you just wanna curl up and die (but no seriously, he’s so corny that it’s funny). His sense of humor is so cheesy, think old vine and 2018 humor.

⋆ Another key part about him is his love for travel, and being a “geek” by nature! This man loooooovesss his Pokemon, let me tell you. Was in a whole subreddit dedicated to Pokemon go, word committed for half a page about backpacking essentials, and was almost always posted up somewhere that wasn’t his house. I can’t say he’s the type for spontaneous trips, as the only time he has been known to take was during the beginning of his breakdown.

Because of this, I feel like he’s more likely to be a marvel and MCU fan. He also read a couple of the Harry Potter books, and we can assume that he liked the series enough to rate them 5/5s lol

⟡ My takeaways. Deeper analysis

⋆ Luigi gives me massive INTJ vibes. Contrary to popular belief, I feel he’s more introverted rather than extroverted. He’s expressed clear comfort in solitude, and aligns perfectly with the personality category.

INTJ description;

“INNOVATIVE,INDEPENDENT, STRATEGIC, LOGICAL, RESERVED, INSIGHTFUL. DRIVEN BY THEIR OWN ORIGINAL IDEAS TO ACHIEVE IMPROVEMENTS.”

However, I could see him being an ISTP, who are characterized as

“ACTION-ORIENTED, LOGICAL, ANALYTICAL, SPONTNEOUS, RESERVED, INDEPENDENT. ENJOY ADVENTURE, SKILLED AT UNDERSTANDING THINGS.”

⋆ He’s a very big geek! More than likely has a soft spot for nostalgia content or things that remind him of childhood. We can expect him to be into things like Ben10, Cartoon Network, old Nickelodeon, and other shows such as The Office, Law & Order, true crime, and philosophy content!

⋆ Expect him to be a giving lover. Would absolutely love words of affirmation, quality time, and acts of service. He’d be more than willing to give you gifts and shower you in lavishes, but it’s not his main love language as he believes love goes beyond materialism and who can spend the most on who. Handmade gifts are a go! Expect 3D printed trinkets, pictures, cards, etc etc.

⋆ Absolute communication god. He’s stubborn, but he’s not stubborn enough to not tell you when something is wrong. It’s just not his speed and he thinks it’s pointless to not tell someone, especially your partner, when he’s upset or what’s got him in a bad mood. He also expects this same behavior from you as well. The whole “I don’t wanna tell you what’s wrong” shindig would annoy the FUCK out of him. FAST.

⋆ He doesn’t give possessive or jealous lover type ngl. Growing up with two sisters and being absolutely showered in female companionship, he understands how that could possibly make you feel and doesn’t even blame you for it. As a result, he’d be extremely understanding if you were friends with men.

⋆ Please don’t ever get in an argument with this man lmfao. That is one battle you cannot and WILL NOT win. If it’s petty and a matter of “I didn’t say so and so,” he WILL show up with receipts. Would very much start busting out his big boy words just to confuse you. Catch him throwing old English into the mix. But if it’s a legitimate argument, and you have a reason to be upset, he will apologize before it can even get off track.

⟡ Luigi’s Brain

⋆ Alright kids here’s where we get a little controversial. What’s going on in Luigi’s mind?

I just wanna start this section off by saying I am not a licensed psychologist, nor do I major in psychology. I have no ties to this topic whatsoever, and am just speaking from what I’ve seen in myself, and what I’ve seen in him.

Neurodivergence. Luigi has a habit of exuding very neurodiverse behavioral patterns that I could tie to one of two things. Autism, or OCD.

⋆ Luigi openly expressed a lot about his wills and wants on his various social media platforms, and one thing I’ve noticed is his strong need or drive for self-improvement. Please don’t get me wrong, it is incredibly important to want to improve yourself and that is a perfectly healthy goal to have. However, Luigi’s drive for self-improvement and ‘getting better’ had a direct impact on his relationships, lifestyle, and more. This is likely what influenced his 6 month period of self-isolation and cutting off his family members.

Perfectionism “type” OCD is a branch of the umbrella term of OCD in which can be identified by repetitive behaviors, such as excessive exercise, something he continued to engage in even with a bad back, insistence on specific routines or ways to do things to achieve perfection, and occasionally rigid and inflexible thinking patterns, as I described him being likely to have above.

not everyone experiences OCD the same way, and me and Luigi are obviously going to experience it differently considering we are two completely different individuals. As someone with perfectionism OCD, I am just calling what I see in my eyes.

⋆ I saw someone make the argument a while back that Luigi could possibly be a narcissist, and while I don't necessarily deny that he can come off as pompous in some of his tweets, I do not think this is the case.

For Luigi to be a narcissist means that he wouldn't be able to make meaningful connections with people around him. Every person that has met or come into contact with Luigi only had good things to say, but I'd like to focus on his...straightforward or out-of-touch* tweets.

Luigi is a no-nonsense man. He's very left-brained and thinks as such, literally. He demonstrates a tendency to solve and think and plow through anything he registers as a problem. Have you ever asked "well, why can't we just print more money?" when told about the cash crisis? That's exactly whats going on in this tweet.

His first instinct when faced with the topic of Japan's birth rate is to try and solve it. Luigi may be hyperfixated on stats and data, which would clarify why he allegedly word-vomited to the hoes about birth rate data. He's not trying to come off as rude or ignorant, and frankly, I don't really think his tweet is that crazy either, he just might not know that this isn't something considered a social topic.

I feel like we're ignoring a lot of his more out-of-touch* (re)tweets, though. Scrolling through Luigi's page, I can understand what he's trying to get at, though lol. He's made it very clear that he's an intense supporter of complete equality*, he doesn't want anybody to be undermined in their contributions to society. Regardless of gender, sexual identity, race, etc. But again, he's thinking so literally and has trouble effectively communicating that in a way that is "neurotypical." This paired with the way he word vomits, and just his overall typing style and cadence, It just feels like he may be on the spectrum!

I do not have a link for this as his Reddit account was fucking obliterated, BUT, I do remember it being rumored that Luigi was apart of several neurodivergent support groups and subreddits!

I hope I helped humanize him a bit more for you guys! Lmk what you think of this little summary as it’s my first time doing something like this EVER lmfao😭

[totheankles]

never quite free | shouei barou

⋆˙⟡♡ wc: 3.9k

⋆˙⟡♡ tags: gn reader, childhood friends, so much pining, barou is a softie for his person, barou-centric, reader is drunk, one (1) instance of vomit

⋆˙⟡♡ a/n: i love when mean, loud characters are softies for their person. so i wrote 3.9k words about it with the mean, loud man that has been haunting my every thought. enjoy!

at the wise age of seven, after just witnessing you punch a boy in the face for insulting your sidewalk chalk art, shouei barou made you a promise: he will always be there for you. he swore that day, crossed his heart and hoped he’d die if he ever failed you (far too serious for a seven year old, but he has always taken his promises very seriously), he will drop everything to help you.

“but why?” you had asked, and grabbed your chalk to resume your drawing.

he crouched down next to you to get a better look at what you had done so far, red eyes tracing over the rainbow you were trying to perfect. “you’re too pretty to be punching anyone.”

and, to seven year old shouei’s credit, he’s consistently kept his promise over the years. even after your parent’s split and you were allowed to be neighbors every other weekend. even after high school finally separated you two and he could only walk you halfway to campus before your routes diverged (he would always carry your bags for you until that point). even during the blue lock program when talking to you was a privilege he had to earn rather than something he did every single day. and now, as a professional athlete with an obnoxiously busy schedule, shouei is always there for you, sponge and wet wipe in hand, ready to clean whatever mess you’ve inevitably made.

which is why, at two o’clock in the morning, after too many drinks at a bar you’ve never been inside of before, it feels like second nature to call him.

alongside with keeping his promises, shouei also keeps a very strict routine. so when his cell phone starts trilling at an ungodly hour, his first instinct is to curse out whoever thinks it’s a bright idea to disrupt his sleep during his off-season. but once the cobwebs of sleep clear from his brain, he realizes there’s only one person who can bypass the do not disturb mode on his phone: you. he’s swiping his thumb across the screen in a heartbeat.

there’s a thump of some sort of bass music in the background of the call, several different conversations muddled together to create a white noise effect, and then your voice breaks through it all, a bit slurred but still carrying a familiar soft quality to it.

“shou-kun,” you breathe into the line, and shouei is up and putting pants on.

“where are you?” his voice isn’t unkind, but the gruffness of sleep is still thick and causes him to sound more irritated than he actually is.

you give him the name of the bar you’ve found yourself in, and shouei is punching in the address on his phone’s gps as he’s sliding a shirt over his torso.

“stay on the phone with me?” you ask, and he can hear the pout on your lips.

he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “yeah, sure, but go somewhere quieter. loud as shit and i’m still waking up.”

you sound a bit more sober as you reply, “‘m sorry, shou-kun. i can ask someone—”

“don’t be. i’m getting my shoes on. keep talking to me.”

it takes every ounce of self control to obey the traffic laws on his drive to the bar. logically, he knows you’re okay. you’re babbling on about the intricacies of a sourdough starter (“is it even worth all of that effort?” “i’ll make you a loaf and then you can tell me if it is.”), and sipping on some water (bottled of course, and he made you watch the bartender hand it to you). you seem to be your usual, bubbly self, even if you’re refusing to tell him why you’re out so late to begin with. but still… his overprotective streak has been going strong for nearly two decades, and he won’t feel satisfied until you’re in the passenger seat of his car, buckled in and safe.

the bar is as sleazy as it sounded over the phone—drunk people hanging around outside smoking, the thump of the base-heavy music rattling outside, flashes of lights streaming through the frosted windows. definitely not your typical scene. but then again, this entire night isn’t very typical for you. you have never been one to drink excessively, let alone at bar you’ve never been to before, so to have to navigate through an intoxicated crowd to find you is something shouei doesn’t have much experience in. a few faces flicker with blurry recognition, and shouei ducks out of their line of sight before a conversation he really doesn’t feel like having begins.

shouei’s irritation level does significantly decrease when he finally spots you sitting at a table all by yourself, water bottle halfway emptied, your brow furrowed in a way that lets him know your thoughts are heavy. the outfit you’re wearing suggests you had intentions of someone seeing you in it, rather than sulking at a bar surrounded by strangers too drunk to recognize their own reflection. acidic jealously churns shouei’s stomach, ugly green and caustic and deadly to nearby organs. he tries his best to ignore it. now isn’t the time for his ego. his top priority is getting you out of this sorry excuse of a bar and to safety.

the way your eyes light up upon seeing him make his guts churn even more for an entirely different reason.

“shou-kun.” you breathe out his name like a sigh of relief, like even just saying it brings you comfort. this time, his heart flutters, and it irritates him even more.

your name rolls off his tongue gruffly, and he’s reaching over to pull you near him. “what are you doing here?” he asks over the loud music as he acts as a shield through the crowd of intoxicated partygoers. “do you know what time it is?”

your hand reflexively wraps around his, and it’s almost like you’re kids again—shouei acting as your personal bodyguard as you allow him to pull you along through anything. he’s always been so good at protecting you. two decades later, and his promise is still in tact. shouei might be the most stable thing in your life, and that thought alone has tears springing up to your eyes. you continue on, gaze glued to your intertwined hands and how shouei holds yours as if it’s something precious to him, as if it’s worth the patience he’s always showing you.

the night air is crisp and fresh compared to the damp, alcohol-soaked air of the club, and it helps sober you up enough to realize you’re more than likely going to vomit tonight. wonderful.

shouei gets you buckled into the passenger seat of his car, ruby gaze scanning your body to make sure you’re fastened up to par with his impossible standards, fingers fiddling with the seatbelt.

you put your hand over his, and when his eyes flicker up to meet yours, the heaviness of them nearly knock the wind out of you. “shou-kun, i’m all buckled in. can we go home now?” your voice is barely above a whisper, and that only makes his brow furrow. he shuts the passenger door and makes his way over to the driver’s side nonetheless, and begins the drive back to his apartment.

home for him is different from home for you. home for him is a humble two-bedroom apartment located downtown, one room dedicated to workout equipment to keep him in shape during his off season without the hassle of a public gym, the other room is master bedroom that no one but him have really laid eyes on. and for you, home is shouei, and not the four-bedroom house you found on craig’s list filled with strangers.

which is why he knows to drive to his apartment with no questions asked. like hell he’s going to trust your housemates to take care of you.

“what were you doing there?” he asks after the silence between you two stretches on for too long.

you’re resting your forehead against the cool window glass to help ease the throbbing behind your eyes. “date blew me off, so i went to the nearest bar.”

he knew it. taut skin stretches over his knuckles as his grip on the steering wheel tightens. “yeah, well, they’re a fucking idiot for ditching you. and you’re an idiot for getting so drunk without anyone there with you.”

“‘m sorry.”

“you’re gonna be more sorry tomorrow when you wake up with a killer hangover.”

the rest of the car ride is quiet, save for the music you decide to flip on to drown out your self-loathing thoughts. shouei isn’t much of a music person, but he is thankful for gorillaz for keeping his mind too busy to think about what sort of person you were dressed up for. it must still be on your playlist. you’re the only person who really gets in his car, after all, save for his sisters whenever they need a ride from him. but even they don’t get radio privileges. that’s saved solely for you.

while 2d goes on singing about rhinestone eyes, you watch the way the street lights flicker over shouei’s face. his hair is down, a rare sight but a welcomed one, and the bags under his eyes are more prominent than usual, indicating he really did fly out of bed to come swooping you away like some knight in jeans and a turtleneck sweater. his jaw ticks, and you wish you could kiss it.

“you okay?” he asks you, pulls you out of your drunken-trance.

you hum a response, and press your forehead against the glass once again, eyes closed but the image of kissing shouei’s jaw still plays behind them.

the car comes to a gentle stop before you can doze off, and shouei is climbing out of the driver seat to open your door and help you out. he’s careful to tap on the glass to rouse you, and when you slowly blink your eyes open to look up at him, his lungs seizes in his chest and his feet are glued to the cement. though you’re very obviously drunk, unbridled trust and love is written openly all over your face in a way that makes the world feels a little wobbly. your eyes are still on him as you unbuckle yourself, and shouei thinks his heart might just explode in between his ribs, the ribbons of it hanging off of the latter on bones and fluttering down to his intestines. he moves out of your way to allow you to open the car door, but he’s quick to grab your elbow to stabilize you as you sway a bit.

“i’ve got you,” he murmurs, and your smile is nothing short of a sun. he fears he may go blind if he isn’t careful. he isn’t sure if he cares, since he’s always wanted your smile to be the last thing he sees anyway.

when walking proves to be a difficult task for you, shouei scoops you up bridal style, and it’s unfair how natural it all feels to him. taking care of you, muttering words of encouragement, feeling you tucked under his chin and curled into his chest, all while you’re dressed to meet someone else. someone that was probably easier to digest than shouei, less egotistical, home often enough to establish a day-to-day routine with you. someone that you don’t have to warn your other friends about preemptively.

shouei has never worried about what other people think of him, can’t find it in himself to feel insecure. a king doesn’t bother himself with a peasant’s thoughts. he does, however, worry about where he fits in your life now that he’s a pro athlete and you’re still trying to find your footing. no one can ever replace him, he knows this. there will always be a spot for shouei in your life. how big that spot is, is what sometimes keeps him up at night, especially now that’s he’s recently come to terms with the fact that he’s in love with you. has been for the last two decades.

light snores leave your mouth as shouei places you down on his bed, trash can set up for when you inevitably vomit, and he’s just beginning to take off your shoes when you begin to stir again.

“go back to sleep,” he gently commands. “you’re going to feel awful in the morning.”

you pout at him. “room’s spinning.”

“i know. that’s why there’s a garbage can next to you.”

“oh thank god—”

and before he can get your other shoe off, you’re leaning over the side of the bed and emptying the contents of your stomach into the bin. shouei moves to rub your back soothingly, nose scrunched as you retch. once your head pops back up, shouei rearranges the pillows and blankets so you’re tucked in snugly, careful to not move you around too much and risk upsetting your stomach again. he stops when he feels your hand resting on his cheek.

“you’re a good man, shou-kun,” you state with a dopey smile on your face. “always taking care of me. even when i probably don’t deserve it.”

“don’t start that self-pity bullshit now,” he replies gruffly, but his eyes a soft pools of ruby. he’s always been soft for you. always will be. “i made you a promise, didn’t i?”

“yeah, when we were seven.”

“and that hasn’t changed. i’m still here.”

your thumb moves from the apple of his cheek to his bottom lip, languidly tracing it, tugging it down to see the teeth that he takes such good care of despite how much his career threatens to knock them out, rows of ivory encased by pretty pink gums. and shouei allows you to, ruby gaze boring into you, trying to gauge where the boundary line is and how solid it is. he would never, ever take advantage of anyone in this state, especially not you, but he does wonder if alcohol has made you uncover some dormant feelings. if you’re thinking about kissing him the very same way he’s been thinking about kissing you ever since your second year of middle school when he watched you punch a boy for calling him a jerk. only shouei would find such an act of violence romantic. everything between you two started with a punch, after all.

“‘s not fair,” you pout, thumb resting on the corner of his mouth.

“what isn’t?”

you purse your lips, as if trying to find the right words. “you’re so pretty. when did you get so pretty?”

he rolls his eyes. “i look the same as i always have. just taller.”

“mm, no.” your other hand comes up to brush his hair back, and his lungs swell until they’re pressing against his ribs. “you’re pretty, shou-kun. and kind. and sweet. and stubborn. and ambitious. and hardworking. so why?”

“why what?”

“why aren’t you with anyone?” when your eyes fall back down to his, shouei feels his chest crack, his heart flayed open and put on display, a pathetic art piece dedicated to you. the world tilts on its axis, and shouei barou has never felt more exposed than he does now under your drunken gaze and steady hands.

he finds his voice long enough to reply, “i don’t care about dating. too much drama and no one knows what they want.”

“do you know what you want?”

you. the answer is on the tip of his tongue, burning a hole through the muscle and burying itself in his enamel, where it will get swallowed down along with the lump in his throat. this isn’t the time to go around confessing, not when you’re drunk and still wearing clothes you put on for someone else. gently, he takes your hands off of him and lowers your body down against the mattress again, and he thinks he feels his heart crumble a little.

“i want you to get some sleep. it’s late as hell, and you have a hangover to prep for.”

and before you can protest, he makes a break for the kitchen to get a glass of water and some tylenol for you. it’s easier to breathe out here where he doesn’t have to choke on long overdue confessions and your perfume. where you aren’t looking at him as if you know just how stupidly in love he is with you. god, he really is pathetic for you. his skin is still warm from where your hands were and all he can think about is how much he wishes you were sober so he wouldn’t feel so guilty for wanting to kiss you.

“the glass is overflowing.”

he nearly jumps out of his own skin at your voice, and whips around to see you standing barefoot in his kitchen, one of his shirts draped over your frame, a pair of his boxers low on your hips. it’s unfair how much better you look in his clothes than your own. hell, you look better than he does in his own clothes. un-fucking-fair.

“what the hell are you doing out of bed?” he barks as he turns the sink off, flustered and unsure of himself. a deadly combination for a man of his caliber. “and when did you change?”

“you were taking forever,” you whine, and tug at the hem of his shirt to pull it further down your thighs. “got bored waiting for you.”

with the water and tylenol in hand, he ushers you back to his room and gets you tucked back in. “you should be asleep. c’mon, it’s late. take these when you wake up and puke in the bin if you need to. i’ll take care of it in the morning.”

but before he can leave his room to sleep on the couch, you’re fisting the back of his shirt and rooting him in place. he waits, as he always does. as he always will. for you.

“sleep with me?” you ask, and chuckle when you feel his breath hitch. “not like that, pervert. like we used to. when we were kids.”

“i’m not a pervert,” he grumbles as he turns around to face you. you’re looking up at him, earnest and hopeful, and he feels his resolve crumble. “let me change into pajamas first.” the smile you flash at him is enough to reaffirm his belief that everything ounce of his yearning and pining is worth it if you just keep smiling at him like that.

once he emerges from the bathroom in his pajamas, you open your arms up to him, bottom lip jutting out in a way that makes him want to bite it. he crawls in bed next to you instead, teeth tucked firmly behind his lips, and you wrap yourself around him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

cuddling with you now is different than when you were kids. for one, he wasn’t pathetically in love with you back then. and two, there’s an undertone to it, a slow lulling of temptation, an unspoken promise that things could always be like this if maybe you returned his feelings. the payoff might be worth the risk. but could he really put the friendship he’s cherished for two decades on the line for his own selfish desires of having you as a partner? it’s the same haunting thought-loop he’s been in for the better part of nine years, and though he isn’t one to dwell or drown in self-pity, you’re the one thing he doesn’t want to risk. and so he lays in bed next to you, your body curled around his, wondering if spending the rest of his life pining for you is a privilege or a curse.

“why didn’t you kiss me?”

your question breaks the silence between you two into a million tiny slivers, each one stabbing at his heart and lungs, lacerating them to bloody ribbons. he doesn’t dare turn to face you, doesn’t want to see what sort of expression is on your face. he’s never been a coward before, but he’s also never been in love before, and they don’t seem to be mutually exclusive things.

finally, he finds his voice buried somewhere under the gore of sliced up potential. “you’re drunk.” it’s barely above a whisper. it’s all he’ll allow himself for now.

“so? i saw that look in your eyes, shouei barou.” he feels you shift behind him, feels your breath fan across the shell of his ear as you tuck your chin next to his shoulder. “you wanted to kiss me.”

it’s a hefty accusation, one heavy with the painful truth that he’s been wanting to kiss you for far longer than just tonight. he turns his head so he can look at you out of the corner of his eye, and is shocked to see you pouting as if you’re disappointed. disappointed that he didn’t kiss you. disappointed he took the chivalrous route rather than the selfish one. two decades later, and you still surprise him.

“so what if i did?” he asks, turning his face back so his gaze is to his plain wall and not the pout on your face. there’s no use in denying it. you’re going to find out one way or another. “i’m not kissing you while you’re drunk. ‘s not right. you deserve better than that.”

“will you kiss me when i’m sober tomorrow?” the hope in your voice is thick, causes him to feel giddy in a way that’s borderline irritating.

“if you want me to, then sure.”

you hum and bury your face in between his shoulder blades, and he melts a little in your arms. “i’ll want you to.”

“how are you so confident?” he huffs and adjusts his body so it’s easier for you to wrap yourself around him. you respond by throwing a leg over his waist, and everything is alright in the world for a moment. “you’re drunk out of your mind.”

you scoot closer to him. “because i’ve been wanting you to kiss me for a long time.”

the confession has his heart seizing in his chest. and though a part of him is screaming at him to not take your intoxicated words seriously, a caged sort of optimism roots itself in his bones, blooms between his joints. he turns his body so your head is tucked under this chest, leg still wrapped around his waist, and his nose is buried in your hair, the smell of your shampoo infiltrating his lungs until it’s all he can think about. he’s okay with this, he thinks. he wants this, in a very selfish way. it might be worth the risk.

“we’ll see how you feel when you’re hungover as all hell,” is what he says instead.

“i think it’ll make me want you to kiss me more,” you giggle against his chest. “my knight in shining armor. always making everything better.”

his fingers find your hair as they often do when you’re snuggled into each other like this, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. your knight in shining armor. it’s cheesy in a way that’s almost endearing, most certainly because it’s you and almost everything about you is endearing to him. it’s a role he’s proudly filled for the last two decades, and will continue to fill as long as you need him to.

“goodnight, shou-kun,” you murmur. “thank you for taking care of me tonight.”

he hums his reply and pulls you a little closer to him.

because he’ll always keep his promise. always.

[prince-jjae]

Pancakes for Dinner.

pairing; beomgyu/reader.

genre; angst, smut, fluff. (so much fluff, im so sorry.)

warnings; childhood friend!gyu, roommate!gyu, hate sex (kinda, not between gyu and reader), yearning...so much yearning..., one-sided affection (or is it?), toxic!gyu, aggressive!gyu, choking used as an intimidation tactic

jjaes comments; this one is.. kinda wild. its taken me weeks to write this. it rlly kicked my ass. this is a little over 5.5k words of pure angst, yearning and fluff. pls dont let this flop. thanks to my beta readers (wives) @liverspaghett and @hyukascampfire, i wouldnt have finished this without you guys.<3

Living with Beomgyu was a horrible idea. One of your worst, by far.

At first, it seemed like the most logical thing to do. You had been nearly inseparable as children, having spent your whole lives attached at the hip. When the looming task of moving out for college came up, of course, staying with your one and only best friend was the best idea you could come up with. And, of course, he jumped at the chance to have some form of familiarity in such a foreign space.

That was two years ago. Things were simpler, back then.

You huffed out a heavy sigh, forehead pressed against the cool glass of the plane. You were headed back home after a much needed trip away. You went alone, of course, much to Beomgyu’s irritation. You always did everything together, why not this, too? You didn’t have the heart to tell him. You simply couldn’t bring yourself to.

How would you even begin to tell him that you loved him, anyway?

–

It started shortly after you two had moved in together. You found yourself drowning in a pile of schoolwork. Essay after essay, quiz after quiz. One particular assignment had you at your wits end, eyes scanning over the same line of text over and over as if rereading it would help it sink in better than the first 7 times you did so. Your head fell against your desk with a loud thunk, the dull pain behind your eyes mixing with the new pain blooming on your forehead. Before you could lift your head to drop it on your desk again, your door opened with the faintest of knocks and a call of your name.

“Hey… you alright? You're gonna knock any sense you have left right out of your head if you keep doing that,” he snarked. Typical Beomgyu, trying to lift your spirits with jokes and half-hearted insults. You snorted out a humourless laugh.

“This homework is leading me to believe I never had any to begin with,” you replied, voice hollow and irritated. Beomgyu’s smirk fell right off his face. He moved closer to you, brows furrowing in concern.

“Hey, wait– Don’t talk about my best friend like that,” he rushed to soothe you, frowning as pulling you out of your uncomfortable desk chair and into his arms. Even as adults, you two were always a bit too touchy. You couldn’t bring yourself to care as you melted into his hold with ease. Usually, you were a bit iffy about physical affection. As kids, Beomgyu made it a point to make you accept him and his love. It was his life’s goal, apparently. One he had achieved after 6 years of hard work. Now, you were putty in his careful hands. you let your frustrations melt from your body until only comfort remained, comfort only Beomgyu could give you. He always had a way of making you feel better.

He rested his chin atop the crown of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your back, right where he knew all your tension would be held. “You're one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. You’re not only incredibly smart, but incredibly talented. I will not abide by this slander,” he half-joked at the end, trying to ease you into the way he saw you. You just huffed in reply, burying your face in his chest. He pulled back just enough so he could fix your skewed glasses on your face, smiling at you with that same lopsided grin he had when you first met as children.

“Let's take a break, yeah? I think I heard some ice cream and a movie calling our names.”

–

You always knew he was attentive, that he would make his future partner feel like the most cherished thing on the planet. But after about a year of him being attentive with you, you had a horrifying realisation.

Your heart swooping in your chest when he brought you your favourite snacks randomly, surprising you with your favourite coffee before classes, when he would make you pancakes for dinner as a surprise– it was slowly making one thing terrifyingly clear in your head. You didn’t want his attention to be anywhere else. Those thoughts that you had before about him making a future partner happy no longer felt like a pleasant thought, but it had jealousy rolling white-hot in your stomach. You weren't ready for him to dote on someone else the way he doted on you.

Still, you revelled in the feeling for now. Was it selfish to want to keep this, even if it was temporary? Perhaps, but you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. Especially when he sat on your bedroom floor, back pressed to the side of your bed as you wrote your latest essay, strumming his guitar to fill the air. He was working on a new song, he had said. There were no lyrics quite yet, but the melody he was creating was so.. soothing. It made your head spin with warmth and comfort, but there was a yearning there that you couldn’t help but pick up on. You turned in your desk chair, facing him with your lips pulled into a curious pout.

“What’s it about?” you had asked him, voice gentle and soft as if you were afraid that speaking any louder would disturb the comfortable vibes that had settled over your room. He glanced up from his guitar, head tilted at you like a puppy. Your heart stuttered in your chest, making you glance away. You couldn't maintain eye contact when he looked at you like this, as if you hung the moon and stars for him.

“I’m… honestly not sure. But it seems like it wants to be a love song of some sort,” he replied, looking equally as perplexed. You sat up a bit straighter in your seat.

“Wants to be? Does a song know what it wants to become?” You frowned, confused. Beomgyu was always hard to figure out, even moreso when he became so beautifully poetic like this out of seemingly nowhere. He nodded quickly, soft blond curls bouncing at the movement.

“Every piece of art knows what it wants to become. You just have to let it decide.”

You sat there, stunned into silence. His words hit you in a way you never expected. You thought back to all of your unfinished stories, fictions you had written over the years that never saw the light of day. Only Beomgyu knew about a few of them, not all. After all, how could you tell him that a lot of the stories you wrote were about him? You realised he was right. Whenever you wrote, especially lately, your stories tended to go wherever they wanted. No matter how hard you tried writing various genres, various storylines, various characters.. It always came back to him. It was always him, in the end. You smiled at him, leaning back in your chair as you turned around to complete your essay.

“I think I get it.”

But you didn’t get the chance to tell him. You weren’t brave enough by then.

–

It was 6 months ago when he shattered your internal fantasies. He walked through the front door as normal, tossing his keys in the dish and taking his shoes off. Everything seemed normal, but you instantly knew something was off. Maybe it was the way he seemed a little too giddy today, maybe it was the way his cheeks were tinged red despite the temperate weather outside, but you had a looming feeling that something was about to destroy you today.

You should have trusted your gut.

The news was not surprising, really. That he had a crush on someone and it was going well. No, what gutted you was that it had apparently been brewing for months now, while you were blissfully unaware. You were too busy falling for Beomgyu that you hadn’t noticed him falling, too. But not with you.

Still, he was your best friend. You had no choice but to find joy in his happiness, even if it wasn't shared with you the way you wanted. So you smiled as wide as you were able, congratulating him with as much true happiness as you could muster. He grinned, the smile bright and blinding as he swept you up in his arms, spinning you around. It sliced through your heart knowing that he did all of this platonically.

“God, I really think they’re the one..” he breathed, sounding dazed. He was entirely unaware of the sound of your heart shattering in your chest, nor of the way your fake smile faltered for just a moment.

–

You decided it was time to go on a trip. You needed to get out. Fast. You needed to be as far from Beomgyu as possible, as fast as possible. Luckily you had plenty of vacation time from work built up, and within a few months, you were packed up and ready at the door of your shared apartment.

“Gyu, cmon.. You’ll live without me, right? It’s only for two weeks, and I’ll be back before you know it,” you rushed to console him, even at your own expense. Truthfully, you didn’t want to come back to him. He was absent from the apartment almost all the time now, spending all his time with his new partner. You no longer knew what he was up to, nor how his classes were going, if he was happy, sad, upset. You were a stranger, now. Such an intense change in your dynamic with him became a hot knife in your stomach, carving out your worst emotions and putting them on full display.

It was a tearful goodbye, but not on your account. Beomgyu was a blubbering mess, clinging to your shirtsleeve as if letting go would mean he would never see you again. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, shrugging him off before ruffling your hand through his fluffy hair as you always did. “Besides, you’ll probably be too busy with your partner to have time fussing over me.”

You knew your words were a low blow, but watching his eyes water and bottom lip quiver stroked your ego just slightly. He frantically shook his head side to side with such a fervour you were sure he would break his neck if he kept going. You placed your hands on either side of his face to still him, his cheeks squishing against your palms. He stared at you with those big puppy eyes you loved, and your heart tugged in your chest. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to hold him. You wanted to just stay here with him instead of running away like the coward you are.

Alas, he wasn’t yours to do so with, so you pulled away.

Gripping your suitcase, you walked toward the taxi waiting for you, but something gave you pause as your hand made contact with the door handle. You looked over your shoulder, giving him your best, watery excuse of a smile you could muster.

“Be good, okay? Be back soon.”

“You’d better.”

–

If you had some foresight, you would have shut down your computer before you left. Although, in your defence, you were too preoccupied with getting the hell out of the house that you did little to prepare your room for your departure. It really shouldn't be surprising that Beomgyu would go snooping in your room when you weren't there. It was perfectly innocent, he swore! He missed you so much. He needed to be in there to feel your presence again.

It had only been a few days since you had left, and the apartment was eerie without you. He realised just how much you lit up the room when you were there, keeping the apartment’s atmosphere warm and fuzzy with just your presence. He was content with just sitting on your bedroom floor as he usually did. He talked out loud about his day, rambling in his usual way and imagining you were watching with rapt attention and nodding along as always. He caught himself, pressing his lips into a thin line when he realised what he was doing. This was pathetic. He could just call you, but your phone seemed to be off. Not being able to contact you at all times settled a pit deep in his stomach that he didn’t like. His connection to you was severed; cut off at the neck, and he was floundering. He didn’t know what to do without you, so he dragged himself off of your bedroom floor and into his own room, flopping himself face-down on his own bed.

A few hours later, when he realised he couldn’t get a wink of sleep without you, he dragged himself out of bed. If he couldn’t sleep, he could at least do something productive, right? He went back to that song he was trying to write, guitar in his lap and pencil tapping against his plush bottom lip as he tried to concentrate. “Cmon.. let the song write itself..” he tried to coach himself through it, to no avail. After an hour of staring at a blank lyric page, he let out a defeated groan. Moments later, he found himself in front of your bedroom door. He couldn't recall how he ended up there, honestly. He swore his feet followed the familiar path to your room of their own volition. He pushed your door open, eyes fluttering just slightly at the way your scent hit him like a wall. He could feel his muscles release the pent-up tension he must've gained during his poor excuse for rest. Beomgyu sighed as he stepped through the threshold of your room. He wanted to settle on the floor with his back against the side of your bed like he always did, but something tugged at him today.

He sat in front of your computer.

You were a writer. He knew that much. He had read a handful of things you deemed good enough for his eyes, and he was positively enraptured with the way you wove words into intricate stories that tugged on his heartstrings. He was hoping, however selfish that hope was, that he could find something to inspire him into writing that damn song. You always inspired him, so surely your writing would do the same.

He swore he wouldn’t snoop for too long, wanting to find something from you, anything from you to aid him in his songwriting woes- and then he found it. Scrolling innocently through your saved documents, something caught his eyes.

“Pancakes for Dinner..” he read off the screen, the combination of words tugging at something familiar deep in his brain. How could he resist? He clicked the document open.

This work was different from your usual writing. It was in a poem format, and the pacing was reminiscent of a song. He wondered, distantly, just when you had the time to write something so interesting- oh.

2 hours ago.

You were writing this on your trip, probably with your laptop or phone. Something about that fact made his heart sink. You obviously had access to the internet, why weren't you talking to him? Were you avoiding him? It seemed unfathomable, you ignoring your best friend, just as he couldn't imagine ignoring you. Frowning, he pushed himself to read.

“Don't want to be forward, don't want to cross a line

But if I were to crash in this plane tonight,

I'd want you to know this.

Don't want to say too much, intrude on your space

But if I were to crash and I didn’t make it home

I’d want you to know this.”

Beomgyu's heart was in his throat. Crashing..? He hated the idea. You were going to be safe. He didn't even want to entertain the idea of you never coming home to him. You were a fact in his universe. A fixed point. Unchangeable. And here you were, writing about dying? About never coming back to him? He felt sick.

“Oh, and to say it is too scary, so I’ll just say something else

And I wish that you could hear me when I talk to myself

But this plane might not land safely

So, what the hell do I have to lose

If I just tell you?

I wanna eat pancakes for dinner

I wanna get stuck in your head

I wanna watch a TV show together

And when we’re under the weather

We can watch it in bed

I wanna go out on the weekends

I wanna dress up just to get undressed

I know that I should probably tell you this

In case there is an accident and I never see you again

So please save all your questions for the end

Maybe I’ll be brave enough by then.”

Beomgyu was floored to say the least. As always, your way with words was so intricate and amazing that he could do little else but read in awe. Something about it irritated him, though. This felt too.. Intimate. Not for his eyes. He knew he was invading your space, yes, but this felt too personal, even for you. You were always so reserved, keeping your emotions hidden and to your chest. Beomgyu prided himself in being able to read you better than anyone else, and yet.. These words. This song you wrote, these lyrics hit too close to home, somehow. He pushed on, but something nagged at the back of his mind that if he continued, things between the two of you would fundamentally change forever. It was a stupid thought, anyway, so he pushed it aside.

“Don't want to say something wrong

Don't want to be weird

But if you're still in love with her

I think that I’ll leave it there

And I won’t ever tell you this.”

The words felt like ice cold water washing over him, stinging and shocking him to his core. You were in love, weren’t you? It was obvious now that he reread the previous lines. You were head over heels. He should be happy for you, he knew that. He should be ecstatic that you could find someone to feel this way about, but that happiness never came. Instead, something raw and ugly clawed its way up his throat, causing him to push away from your desk and slam the door to your room. He didn’t know why he was acting this way. He didn’t care to know. Instead, he threw himself into anything and everything else, trying to rid your heartfelt words from his mind. You were in love, and all it did was piss him off. He completely forgot about his song, and completely forgot to close the tab he was on.

He spent the following few days in a bit of an angry haze. He was meaner. Rougher. you'd be shocked to see what he had become in the wake of his realisation. Part of him wanted to be ashamed of what he was turning into, but he couldn't find it in himself to give a damn. You were in love, he was dating someone, that was the end of it. So he took his anger out in a way he thought would aid him in keeping his priorities straight.

–

“Gyu, wait- slow down-!” his girlfriend cried, but it fell on deaf ears. He simply growled into her ear and gripped her hips in a bruising hold. He was being too mean, he knew that, but he didnt care. Her voice was starting to irritate him. It didn’t sound right. Her moans didn’t sound as pretty as they did before. This knowledge made him hiss and move harder, fuck her faster; Shoving her head into the pillows to muffle the moans that he usually loved to hear.

“Shut the fuck up, whore. You’ll take what I give you,” he spat, fingers tangling in her hair, shoving her face harder into the pillows as he continued to plough into her. She was using your nickname for him. He knew why she was doing it, wanting to exert some sort of power over you in your absence. It made him scowl, but it wasn't enough to make him stop.

It didn’t matter, in the end. It didn’t matter how often he fucked her. It didn’t matter how many surfaces of your shared apartment that he did it on. It didn’t even matter when he did it in your bed. The rage gripped his heart, unrelenting, leaving a foul taste in his mouth. Maybe he was sick in the head for this, for trying to wash you out of his life. He shouldn’t be acting this way. He knew he shouldn't be. But he couldn't help himself. He couldn't stop the anger from pushing him beyond his usual limits, turning him into something unrecognisable.

It was the day before you were supposed to come home, and he was exhausted. He supposed that the rage-induced fuckfest he found himself in was just his way of blowing off steam. It was fucked up, it was childish, and he was finally coming down from it.

Kinda.

He had the sense to break up with his girlfriend by now, thank god. It was a rough affair, full of screaming matches and scathing words. She was furious, of course. Not that Beomgyu cared. She was going off on a tirade about you, but he was only half-listening. Something about how she was better than he deserved, that she would get him back for this, that he was a jerk. He just kept staring somewhere beyond her ear, waiting for her to be done. Then she made a horrible mistake.

“Its them, isnt it?” Her words were enough to finally knock Beomgyu out of his trance. His gaze sharpened, zeroing in directly on her face.

“What?” He questioned, though his words felt too sharp, too dangerous. If she had any sense, he thought, she would recognise his words as the warning it was and leave it alone. Alas, she was just as dumb as he expected.

“Your roommate. They’re doing this. They’re the reason, aren't they? That bitch-” Before she could get any further insults out, Beomgyu had her by the throat.

“Shut the fuck up.” He almost grinned when she finally had the sense to look scared. He was seething. No one insulted his friend. You were more than just his roommate, you were his best friend. You were his one constant companion, his soulmate. Who was she to get in the way of that? Who was she to insult you; in front of Beomgyu, no less? Was she that fucking stupid?

He had backed her up to the front door, all the while she was spewing apologies and blubbering through her tears. He didn’t care. He stopped caring a long time ago. He only cared about you, he knew that now. He didn’t know how he had ever forgotten it. How could he have forgotten how perfect you were? How could he forget that he only had you?

It wasn't until after he had slammed the door behind her that he finally took a deep breath. It was over. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t feel much about it. She was just a distraction, really. You were his focus. You were always his focus. How stupid was he that he had lost sight of that?

The silence of the apartment rang in his ears painfully. It was taunting him, reminding him of the absence of you. He once again found himself entering your room with little memory of having walked to your door. Here, he could find some semblance of peace. Here, he could delude himself into thinking you were still here; that he could still smell you, feel you, hear you. He glanced at your computer, knowing it was still open to that document. His heart ached in his chest, jealousy eating him alive. How could you love someone else? How did you have the time to? He was almost always with you–

Except he hadn't been, had he? No, he had been too busy with his girlfriend– ex-girlfriend. He felt his chest cave in. You did have time to fall in love with someone. He had nearly done the same. He was such a hypocrite. How could he be angry with you for doing the same thing he did?

He frowned, hand shaking as he moved the mouse to wake your computer screen. He knew your password by heart, typing it in with nimble fingers and bated breath.

“Oh, ‘cause to tell you is too scary

So i’ll just say something else

Like how was fall semester?

And what was that song about?

I’ll try to hide the way I feel, But i’ll just want to shout

Oh, what do I have to lose right now?”

As he read the chorus again, something tugged at his brain. Something was so familiar about it. Even the pre-chorus felt.. Off. What was he missing? He read it and reread it, but nothing popped out to him just yet.

Then something on the screen flickered. His heart lept in his chest, eyes bulging as he watched a different coloured cursor begin to type out words. You were writing this right now. You were abroad, in some other country and yet he still shared this with you. It was almost enough to convince him that you hadn’t left at all, that you were still right here with him. If he focused hard enough, he could almost hear you typing, fingers flying over the keyboard in a flurry of movement like always.

“I think that I should probably tell you this

In case there is an accident

And I never see you again

So please save all your questions for the end

And maybe I’ll be brave enough by then.

Well, maybe I won’t ever say whats in my head

No, I won’t have to say anything

You’ll say it instead.”

That last line haunted him. It echoed in his head over and over. “You’ll say it instead”?

At first, the realisation hit him slowly. Pancakes for dinner, wanting to know what his song was about, being in love with his ex.. You were writing this song about him, weren't you? All these things lined up a little too well with the experiences he shared with you. Then it hit him all at once.

The person you were in love with was him, right? You were in love with him. Your best friend, your roommate, your soulmate. If Beomgyu was shaking beforehand, he was trembling like a leaf, now. This whole time, he was acting out and seething, he spent almost the entire time you were gone in a fit of rage, when in reality he was jealous of himself. He felt both giddy and ashamed. If only he had stayed a bit longer last time he was reading your lyrics. If only he had patience, he would have seen. He would have known that he was the object of your desires this whole time. He felt foolish, embarrassed–

But none of that mattered now. No, what mattered was that you were on your way back to him. What mattered is that you were coming back, and he was never letting you go again.

–

The plane ride back did little to calm your nerves. You had a decent time away, you supposed, but it wasnt the relaxing get-away you were hoping for. You spent the whole time fighting the urge to pick up your phone, wanting nothing more than to fall into the familiar comfort of hearing Beomgyu’s voice in your ears, the dulcet tones smoothing over every frazzled nerve you had. But no, you had to steel yourself. Moving on meant limiting contact.

Beomgyu was like a drug. The more you took of him, the more you relied on his presence, his voice, his touch, his smile. Everything about him was addictive, and you needed to quit. You’d never survive if you stayed so pathetically dependent on him. Quitting cold-turkey almost broke you. Scratch that, It did. It ruined you. You spent the first few days away sobbing into the hotel bed’s pillows, phone safety tucked away in your purse. You promised yourself you would try to find closure.

He loved someone else, plain and simple. You had to move on, not just for your sake but for his. How uncomfortable would he be if he found out about your feelings? Would he think you were disgusting for misunderstanding his actions? For creating this scenario in your head about the life you wished to have with him? Oh, god.. What if he found out about your stories? What if he knew what you wrote about? The scenarios you wove with him in mind were not something you ever wanted him to see. He could never know. He will never know.

You closed the document app on your phone, leaning your head against the window of the aeroplane as a sigh tumbled from your lips. They were bitten and gnawed beyond belief, a habit you had recently picked up as you tried to shove Beomgyu from your mind. The song was your last-ditch effort at putting your feelings from your mind. Maybe if you admitted it out loud, you could move on. Acceptance is the first step, or something like that. You closed your eyes, trying to imagine how the reunion was going to go. Should you move out? Maybe it would be best. The idea of being further separated from Beomgyu made your chest clench painfully, making you shake your head. No, you couldn’t do that. You weren’t strong enough to make that large of a step, even if it was what would save you.

If leaving Beomgyu meant your doom, you would accept your fate with open arms.

–

He was exactly where you expected him to be, standing at the terminal and waiting for you. Though, you knew it wouldn’t take any real effort to pick him from a crowd. You only ever saw him, anyways.

Before you could say anything, his eyes met you and you swore time stood still. Neither of you moved for a few long moments, just staring at each other in awe. Seeing him again, seeing the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, made all your self-respect fly out the window. All the work you had put in during your trip had been knocked down in an instant. How could you ever think you’d be anything other than his? It was written in your DNA, you belonged to Beomgyu, whether he knew it or not. That was your fate. He was your fate, no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

Then the moment broke, and you were being twirled around in a bone-crushing hug. Beomgyu was nosing eagerly at your neck, taking in your scent first-hand instead of your room. He sighed against your skin.

“You’re home,” he breathed, sounding dazed. You understood the feeling, nodding dumbly as he set you down on the linoleum again.

“I’m home,” you affirmed, looking up at him. His hands never left your waist. Normally, you'd have no problem with it but you knew this feeling of greed was wrong. Your hands pressed gently against his chest in a weak effort to push him away. Your heart wasn’t into it. “You have a girlfriend, Gyu, hands off.” Beomgyu scoffed, face hardening at the mention of her.

“Ex,” he corrected, staring down at you with an intensity that had your stomach tensing. “Ex-girlfriend.” He clarified, hands staying firmly planted on your waist. You swore you could feel his thumb stroking your side gently, but you were sure it was just your imagination.

“Oh..? Are you okay–” You couldn’t get any further words out, not when his lips pressed to yours like that. You froze, muscles stiffening under his hold. He paid it no mind, continuing to kiss you senseless. When you finally began to relax against him, he pulled away. Your eyes were wide as saucers, staring up at him as you fumbled for words. “I– you– what–?”

“I’ll say it instead,” He began, sounding just as breathless as you did. When you looked at him with confusion, he just laughed. “That love song I was writing was for you. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was. It was always going to be for you. I make you pancakes for dinner because I know you don't like candies, but still crave something sweet at night. I bring your favourite coffee to you before your classes because I love the way your eyes light up when you realise I memorised your order. I’ll say it instead, because I want you to know that I love you. I’ve always loved you, I think. I just never knew until I thought I had already lost you.”

Your head was spinning. He wasn’t giving you any room to breathe, instead he pressed his forehead to your own, hands moving up to hold your face in a gentle grip.

“You love me too, right? You wrote that for me, yeah? God, please say yes–” This time you were the one cutting him off with a kiss, pressing so fervently into him that his eyes rolled back into his head. This was everything he ever needed and never knew he wanted. He loved you, he would say it every day, every hour. He would be sure to remind you all the time so you never forgot. He needed you more than anything in his life.

“Yes.” You breathed against his mouth before diving right back in. With a single word he knew; he was yours, now and forever.

taglist; @hwanghyunjinismybae @biteyoubiteme @chyuuiung

[retroaria]

★ unlikely trio

⟡ ݁₊ what it was like working with osamu dazai and chuuya nakahara as port mafia operatives ₊ .⟡

platonic!dazai + chuuya x gn!reader | this is definitely based on 15-18 y/o dazai and chuuya! they are both executives and you’re under them but still high ranking. use of y/n btw. this is short i just wanted to do some silly hc's for my favorite boys :)

• | BSD M.LIST | reblogs are apprectiated! | •

⋆˙⟡ chuuya hates to make you the mediator, but dazai insists. when these two are locked in on one upping each others level of arrogant asshole, dazai seeks you out to be the final voice of reason just so he can see which of them will be scolded the most - he knows they’re both being stupid. because of his vulgarity, chuuya usually gets the shorter end of the stick in these competitions (competitions that exist only in dazai’s head btw)

D: “Did you see that!? Chuuya just bit me!”

C: “I did not bite you, i’m not some kind of wild animal.”

D: “No, I think you’re a creature far more sinister actually…”

C: “If you don’t shut the hell up I’ll actually bite your head off.”

D: “You see! Y/n! Someone has to reprimand this feral beast.”

Y/N: “Chuu~ you can’t just say you’re gonna bite his head off…”

C: “HE STARTED IT AND HE LIED!”

D: “My accusation doesn’t seem too far off for someone who just threatened to orally behead me, read the room Nakahara.”

⋆˙⟡ pushing and shoving each other to get through the doorway first. you or chuuya usually assume the role of line leader but when it comes to making an entrance dazai can’t help but weasel his way in there with an annoying amount of force. this doesn’t necessarily pertain to you, as dazai does this when it’s just him and chuuya as well…or anyone really - he’s gotta make a grand entrance.

⋆˙⟡ letting you win at arcade games just so chuuya feels like the only one who couldn’t beat him.

⋆˙⟡ you being the only thing that could get those two to sit down and have a normal meal together. they know you mean business when you invite them out to eat so they put their big boy pants on.

⋆˙⟡ you and dazai coming up with dangerous but efficient plans that chuuya spends the entirety of the mission refuting. alternatively: you and chuuya coming up with safe and well thought out plans that dazai spends the entirety of the mission ruining.

⋆˙⟡ they both go to you to talk about their troubles id think, although dazai does it in a much more sly manner; not really telling you anything but just wanting to have someone to talk to. chuuya really lets it all out on you, he’s a a bit of a trauma dumper when he feels he can be. sometimes one of them will walk in on you when you’re with the other and they both look at you feeling so betrayed.

D: “I can’t believe you double booked…today is MY DAY.”

C: “Shut it freak, I had plans with them first you’re such a little brat.”

D: “So cold…I’ll have you know I was invited.”

⋆˙⟡ dazai spends a lot of time trying to get you to understand the way he thinks. he’s totally emotionally and mentally stunted though, so he ends up speaking in riddles and not getting his point across as smooth as he’d like to sometimes. chuuya doesn’t explain his thought process to you at all and then gets mad when both dazai and you aren’t getting what he’s putting down.

⋆˙⟡ they both feel the need to get your opinion on big decisions they might be making concerning operations. dazai will dance around his proposals and take in your reactions based on the little info he gives you. chuuya tells you the situation straight up and asks what you would do if you were him.

⋆˙⟡ dazai feels that you need very little protection and can handle things on your own, his logic is that you couldn’t have gotten as far as you did if you weren’t capable. chuuya sees you as one of his valued subordinates and will go out of his way to ensure your safety (though he doesn’t do that for anyone else but if you died who else would protect him from dazai’s emotional abuse?)

[scribescrawls]

Transformers One setting, I like to headcanon that the 50 cycles when the High Guard were being hunted down were rough especially as energon no longer flowed. Now imagine soon after the events of the movie when Megatron is with the rest of the High Guard at their new base that’s still half being set up, Starscream or one of the others will just mention something extremely wild that happened to them casually to each other that it makes Megatron go “that can’t possibly be real” or “for your sake I really hope you’re lying”. For instance, imagine Starscream trying to actually impart some surface survival skills to their new leader and points to a set of weird looking plants/grass growing out of the planet and Starscream is like “if you’re ever extremely desperate and stranded with no energon sources wandering wastelands on the brink of shutting down, you can eat these as a last resort. It will give you the energy to stay online, but be careful. It’s best to only consume it if you have someone with you who can tie you up and carry you. I recommend taking shifts so you can keep moving forward”.

Megatron, confused: Wait why would I need someone to tie me up and carry me?

Starscream: Side effects. I mean it about it being a last resort. It makes you not yourself. Feral, aggressive, and a potential danger to both yourself and others. Then the hallucinations start setting in. You start hearing and seeing things. The visions are different for everyone, but rarely are they pleasant. And the feeling of it finally burning out of your system at the end hurts like a glitch.

Megatron: How do you even know for sure that’s what it does?

Starscream: First hand experience. But one day it could save your life so remember it.

Megatron, doubtful if Starscream is telling the truth, but morbidly curious: What did you hear and see?

Starscream: Have you ever seen the dead come back to life wrong and their face plates slowly melting off as you hear the dying screams of bots long past?

Megatron: No…

Starscream: Let’s try to keep it that way.

He wonders if maybe Starscream is just messing with him or trying to scare him about the surface, but then he turns his head to see Shockwave and Soundwave nodding seriously and confirming Starscream’s statements.

Shockwave, referring to Starscream: I used to have dents in my old arm from when he bit me under its effects. Of course I can’t show you since that was on my old arm before I lost and replaced it later down the line.

Megatron: Wait that’s not your original arm? What happened to it?

Shockwave, casually with no context: Oh Starscream cut it off. I don’t hold it against him though, it was the logical thing to do at the time.

Megatron is just like wtf were you guys doing in those 50 cycles?! In what circumstances does cutting off someone’s arm make logical sense?! Poor Megatron is probably wondering if it’s not too late to run back to Iacon.

I just like the idea that during those 50 cycles the High Guard were going through the Horrors™.

[home-of-renn]

Surprisingly enough, I think Sam and the Addams family would be at odds quite a bit. But Sam wants them to like her, and to some extent, she wants to be like them and fit in with them - which is a very weird first for her. So, she does her best to hold it all in - which is another very weird first. It ends up with her feeling somewhat self-conscious around them. They're more macabre than she is and a hell of a lot more extreme. Sam finds herself not wanting to argue - both for her own sake and Danny's - and for the first time ever, she hesitates over how she expresses her views.

Sam ends up having to reassess how she goes about conveying her beliefs to other people and is forced to take a different approach with the Addamses - one that's less pushy and condescending and actually broaches the topic in a somewhat open-minded manner.

Just imagine the trio getting back from a particularly long stay with the Addams family and the entirety of Amity Park is convinced they've been overshadowed.

Danny's chilled out and still running on the good vibes he picked up from the Addamses and now that inexplicable, foreboding sense of dread that seeps into the room whenever he's present has noticeably reduced.

Tucker, who'd been taken under the gracious wing of Mr Gomez Addams - who just so happened to be the smoothest man Tucker had ever met - had sworn off his creepy attempts at picking up every girl in Casper High. Suddenly he's opening doors in a completely polite and friendly manner, without a single uncalled-for pickup line. He's finally keeping a respectful distance from the girl's changing rooms, and worst of all he managed to make a tasteful joke that actually got a genuine round of laughter from the unsuspecting cheer squad.

Sam had had four separate opportunities to rise up and berate her classmates on various "controversial" topics but chose to remain quiet. And when Paulina had decided to poke the bear and jokingly asked if she was sick, she had replied with a polite, non-sarcastic, measured response that had asserted that she was in perfect health and had gone on to outline her stance in a logical, but firm and almost open-minded series of dot points that she delivered without a single scathing remark about Paulina's recently whitened teeth or 'superficial' personality.

It's safe to say that the entire student body of Casper High had been too afraid to comment on the situation and the Fenton's had been alerted to a code red situation.