#but he doesn’t care to do it too often because it wastes energy

[booklover223]

Bloody fucking hell. It was just his luck that he ran into a dead kid and was bestowed the misfortune to inform said dead kid that he was, in fact, dead. The universe hated him. John thought sourly as he tried to think of a way to explain to the kid he was dead.

Most people (batsy and his colony) thought he was too crass to work with kids and while it was true sometimes depending on the kid he actually liked kids, held a soft spot for them especially if they were dinguses, like the one in front of him.

“Kid,” he started before he sighed and rubbed his chin. “I’m sorry to tell you this kid but, you’re dead. You’ve died. What year do you think it is?” He asked gently watching the ghost. The white haired kid blinked before tilting his head. “It’s April 1, 2004. I’m not dumb,” he rolled his eyes body slightly following the motion. “I know it’s April fools day trench coat man you won’t fool me! And I’ve never seen you around town before! STRANGER DANGER!” The kid shouted before running off. John sighed as he grabbed his phone to let the scary bat know the case became complicated and he would need a hotel booked so he can help this kid cross over. Unbeknownst to Constantine, Danny was having a laugh with Sam and Tucker about the sad trench coat man that he just pranked. He may have said the wrong year purposefully but it still was April 1.

Constantine coming across Danny for the first time: Kid, are you aware that you’re dead?

Danny, about to play the greatest prank: I’m what? D:

[anim-ttrpgs]

something I don’t get about the disability metaphor is that for eureka monsters obviously it harms another person to eat them. the help a disabled person needs doesn’t actively harm or kill another person. Maybe it’s a difference in perspectives that cannot be resolved

(What I’m about to write could potentially sound very fucked up at first so I’m going to need to trust everyone to read the whole thing before forming an opinion.)

Also this message and response references these two posts.

Eureka’s stance on disabled people is that they (including myself writing this) are, or at least can often be, burdens.

Disabled people often require more resources to live than they are able to “give back,” which, in our capitalist and artificial-scarcity-based economy, is just about the worst thing a person can do.

Anti-ableism sentiment often focuses on the idea that “disabled people aren’t burdens, that they’re just as good and capable as everyone else,” but if they were, they wouldn’t be “disabled” would they? When you say stuff like that, you’re conceding that a person’s worth is determined by how capable they are at doing work, and then having to bend over backwards to justify thinking that a person without arms is just as valuable as a person with arms. Eureka is asking you to decouple a person’s value from how much net resources they can produce.

Often times also, the resources that real disabled people consume are human resources, and those human resources are very much capable of suffering for it. Nurses are overworked, around-the-clock care is absolutely physically and mentally exhausting, people who have to care for their elderly or otherwise disabled relatives on top of their regular jobs don’t get to have social lives or hobbies, etc.

To this end, we wrote the monsters in Eureka to be unquestionably people who “cause damage” to society by literally eating up human resources, because they have to to live, they have no other choice unless they want to just die. Your friend is gone from your life because he has to spend all his free time caring for his comatose wife after a freak car accident. Your friend is gone from your life because a vampire randomly ate him. Providing a metaphor isn't all the monsters are doing, they just work well through that lens.

And then Eureka forces you to look at these people as people, and make up your mind as to whether they have value and a right to prologue their own existence. We can’t force you to agree that they do, but if you think they don’t, then you’ll have to make that argument looking at an intelligent person with a life rather than a pure hypothetical or statistics on a chart.

There are some monsters in Eureka where, if the economy or societal structures were changed, they would stop being such severe drains on resources and could exist harmlessly within society, and there are some monsters where no imaginable amount of societal change would solve the problems they cause. This is true of disabled people IRL as well. Some of them would require no further assistance with living if certain things about society changed, and others would still require a massive amount of human resources.

And even when it’s not necessarily human resources, the extra resources that disabled people need also cause huge energy expenditure and create huge amounts of plastic waste, which are things that contribute to global warming and pollution, which do have significant harmful effects on everyone’s lives. Despite this, they are still “worth it” to keep around.

As for actively causing harm, that happens too. I randomly scrolled past this post after we got this message and saved it so I could link it here.

This person and their family had to cause a big stink in a restaurant just to get an accommodation that they needed, and to us reading it from their perspective, we’re obviously on their side, but I can assure you that the overworked staff at that restaurant didn’t see it that way. They saw the disabled person as an aggressive Karen whom they would never in a million years want to have to provide customer service to. The disabled person & family had to get aggressive, and ruin the staff’s day, to get what they needed. That’s actively causing harm - harm we all agreed was justified to cause - but harm nonetheless.

Plastic straws aren’t that big of a deal for global pollution, but even if they were, the point is that this person still would have needed a straw. It doesn’t line up one-to-one, because metaphors rarely do, but a vampire asking if they can drink someone’s blood, and being told No, may find themselves in much the same position. (And if you bring up that some people find vampires really sexy, you’re missing the point. “I would give them a straw if they had sex with me.” is not actually a great thing to announce about yourself.)

I can also come up with an example from my own life. I personally am very sensitive to noise and noise pollution. If there’s music playing at a public space, I usually can’t handle it. (Earplugs don’t work for other reasons I won’t get into - plus, if I just deafen myself to all sound, how can I socialize with anyone in this public space?)

If I want to exist in this space, I will have to actively cause harm to everyone there, or else stop existing in that space. I will have to go up to whoever is responsible and ask them to turn off the music, actively taking it away from everyone else who was enjoying it. I have to take action to ruin their good time if I want to exist in that space at all, and they might, very understandably, be pissed off at me for doing that. Because, like I said in this other post, the people that monsters eat do have a right to prevent themselves from being eaten by monsters. We aren't proposing that the solution is everyone has to line up to be mauled to death by monsters or else they're a bad person.

Who has a greater right to enjoy themselves in that space? That’s the kind of question that Eureka poses, and makes you consider both sides as human being rather than denoting one as just an ontologically evil villain to be destroyed.

We actually don't know of perfect solutions to all the problems presented by the existance of monsters in Eureka, we just know that "exterminate all people who are parasites and burdens to society" ain't it.

[satoruhour]

LAUNDRY DAY

a/n: I AM ALLIVEEEEEEE 🔥🔥🔥🔥 sorry i had a crazy week! can be read as a standalone piece but based off gojo’s roommate au of here and here / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody ☆

wc: 4k

warnings: sub!gojo that turns into dom!gojo, fem!reader, fantasising? gojo is a pervert too, mentions of semi-public sex, implied somnophilia, panty sniffing, pillow / dry humping, m! masturbation, oral (m receiving), deep-throating, praise, pet names, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

living with you was hard. brushing his teeth with you was hard. being around you — hard. both figuratively and—

there’s a loud sigh from you.

clearly tired from the day’s activities of ushering in freshman after freshman, you lugged your body into the bathroom. the same rehearsed words have been leaving your mouth as your cheeks hurt more and more by the hour, only to repeat it all over again the next day.

“you look like shit,” it’s muffled by the way the toothbrush is stuffed into his mouth, foam peeking out from the corners of his mouth and you’re trying not to tell your roommate (and boyfriend) to shut up — you didn’t have the energy to do, much less say anything and you certainly didn’t have time for your lover’s clever quips so late in the night.

it didn’t help that you recently had an argument too; well, trivial to him but much more major to you. it was a matter of getting gojo to keep his laundry properly and to clean up after himself once he’s gotten himself comfortable in the relationship. it’s not like he doesn’t want to — he was cleaning up in the first place to impress you — but now since he’s got you, it’s like he simply expects you to act as his little wife when it was a shared space. the exact argument you used against him.

“satoru— this is a shared apartment! you can’t just leave tteokbokki cups lying around with the gochujang sauce still inside! it’s going to attract cockroaches and ants!” you gesture wildly, the sheer amount of trash lying around making you even sicker than you thought possible. getting paid to usher in freshmen and then coming home to this? it felt like every cent of your hard work had gone to waste.

there’s only a grin on his face, “you’re so attractive when you’re mad, baby.”

that was another thing: the lack of seriousness that gojo possessed at times, simply talking to piss you off, simply living to be the bane of your existence. “and you’re fucking unbelievable, gojo satoru. clean up— or don’t,” you made sure to lace that last word with venom, “i don’t care.”

that seemed enough for gojo to snap out of his stupor, “no, no— princess, fuck, i’m s—” his brows furrow when he briefly spots the thickening glaze of your eyes, possibly filling with tears before you’re marching into your room to slam the door and he swears to himself. satoru had never felt embarrassment and shame and sadness like that day; having just taken a shower but his skin was sweaty and uncomfortable and his heart sat right at his feet.

gojo swears he never wants to hear you say his full name ever again.

since then, it’s been a little tense between the two of you. geto had noticed it on movie night, shoko realised you haven’t been looking at your phone as often. hell, even prof. yaga had to tell you that you were distracted way too much lately, and it’s only been two days.

satoru tried to possibly take back what he said with whatever powers he didn’t possess, but he only gets another sigh from you as you squeeze the toothpaste out and start brushing your teeth, not even sparing him one glance in the mirror.

and yet while he was the first one to start his nightly routine, he’s left to be the last again from the way he’s unable to stop staring at you, a recurring trait of his whenever you were in the same room with him. it’s a testament of how attracted he was to you — at how his shirt slips off your shoulder from how big it was because even when you were mad at him, you forgot about that little detail. gojo’s eyes trail from your exposed shoulder to your legs and back up again to your fatigued face. he skims over the shape of your eyes and down to your nose and he thinks he’s the luckiest man to be brushing his teeth beside you now, blessed with seeing such an intimate side of you even if it’s as simple as this.

until gojo’s eyes fall upon your mouth as your toothbrush is doing its job of perfect innocence, cleaning some teeth, scraping off the bacteria on your tongue, except when you’re switching it from side to side all your roommate can think about if it was his dick instead. and the thought leaves him as fast it comes.

all you do is shoot him a weird look through the mirror when gojo exclaims like he was a vampire whose skin burned under the bathroom lighting, and he regains composure with ease.

“i’m fine! fine. doing a-okay.” satoru speaks through the foam and it’s spraying everywhere and you’re too tired to care before you hear another gulp when you move your toothbrush again, “sorry! sorry— continue please.”

gojo is starstruck for an entirely different reason, now, watching the toothbrush making bulges at the side of your mouth as it moves in and out and he’s left to fantasise about the many, many times you’ve gotten him in you and the warmth of everything. he can feel himself get hard under his sweatpants when you start brushing your tongue and you gag and he wants to die standing in this 30 square foot bathroom because the last thing he wants to do is sexualise something perfectly mundane.

gojo isn’t like that (well, most of the time. can’t blame him for finding you smokin’ hot).

“what the fuck is your problem?” you’re speaking through your foamy mouth now, spitting it out and proceeding to clean up with no clue of what you do to him. satoru on the other hand — terribly excited that you’d even open your mouth to talk to him after two days of endless silent treatment. 

“nothing, baby. it’s nothing, i promise.” you can’t lie at the way your heart jumps at the familiarity of it all, of being in such proximity to your lover, doing domestic things like these and the ‘baby’ and yet your pride is holding you back on everything.

you go straight to sleep, too, not wanting to entertain anything related to gojo satoru and you feel just a little bad when he looks at you with those baby blues and a sweet pout on his face. he looked especially pathetic in the bathroom, like a deer caught in headlights at just the presence of you and you want nothing more to apologise. it’s never that easy, though; you needed a promise, you needed the reassurance that he wouldn’t be leaving you to clean up after him again.

all these worries are willed away when you finally fall into slumber in your own room, body craving the warmth of satoru unknowingly. you had stolen a pillow the day before and it’s been the sole source of his scent, the only thing to keep your mind sane.

gojo’s heart drops again upon seeing you already deep in sleep, thinking he had a chance to catch you before you did, but the needines for you never goes down even now. he cannot take his mind off the way you’d run your hands through his hair or tangle your legs with his, satoru’s limbs recall the memory of you playing with his fingers and how you like to curl your arms around his neck. 48 hours is enough for him to go insane, and also maybe at how your leg was propped up on his missing pillow, hugging it so tight to your chest. you hadn’t bothered to wear pants either, so all he can see is the shape of your cunt under.

he stalks into the room and kneels in front of you, finger so tempted to run along your folds and make you wet, staring a whole minute and weighing his options until decides he doesn’t deserve it, turning away and closing your door softly.

“going now, satoru.” it’s soft when you mumble it, not even wanting him to hear before you’re stopped. you’re donning the uni orientation shirt and eyebags, a soggy sandwich from yesterday staining your bag with its smell. “what?”

“made you somethin’,” gojo’s cute like this with a frilly apron and hair band, still managing to tower over you despite the adorable get-up he’s got on, “it’s a bento.”

and you wish you could just melt the pride that runs through your bones and kiss him all over, and you break just a little. a small smile and you walk up to him, grabbing the lunchbox and pecking him softly on the cheek, turning away fast enough to not catch his fangirl moment — because you knew you wouldn’t be able to make it on time if you did.

“we still have to talk later when i come back, okay?” you call out as you put on your shoes and you steal one last glance at him, “and today’s laundry day. you know what t—”

“yes ma’am!” gojo salutes and you roll your eyes with a small smile, locking the door behind you with heat on your cheeks and the pounding of your heart. it was difficult not to break when it came to satoru, when he’s trying so hard to win back your words and love, and so tonight you’ve decided after the tiring week is when you’d finally stop running away over such a small matter.

although, gojo got caught up in something way beyond your expectations even if he had his initial intentions (which involved ordering your favourite takeout and kneeling at the front door in apology). 

your roommate lays around for a bit before grabbing some lunch and heading to the back room, a little extension attached to the kitchen with a tune on his lips. it’s clear he’s a little driven by your little innocent peck, a sign that maybe you weren’t so mad any more. for the next hour, satoru is contently doing the laundry with a smile, until—

the panties you threw in before showering must have fallen to the bottom of the pile, the same one he saw you wear last night and he thinks maybe the low humming buzz he heard last night wasn’t his imagination because when he picks it up he can smell your arousal. there’s a stain from the previous night and another pool of juices from this morning and he now knows that it wasn’t the kettle.

“dirty girl,” he grins, “both yesterday and this morning?” he’s thought about this for the longest time, always holding himself back because you found him weird enough even before you were dating, always letting you do your own separate load for your undergarments. but since you’ve gotten together, you were more comfortable, throwing it into the same laundry basket — the compulsion has never been this strong before.

gojo puts it up to his nose and smells like the pervert he is, among other times: teasing you with a hand down your pants when the two were over at your dorm, fucking you in the kitchen as they focused on the movie, pounding into you with the windows open, and he almost ascends at the scent of your pussy juices. there’s a spark that goes down right to his core and he palms his bulge unconsciously, coming to his senses when the washing machine beeps.

he impatiently puts in the settings and leaves, heading straight for your room and is hit with all reminders of you. the perfume you used this morning and the body wash you share with him, walking almost under a trance to your bed where he moans at the softness of the sheets as he falls face first. it doesn’t take him much to scoot to your pillows, but the need for you is just too much.

gojo grinds his cock into the bed, whining softly as he whiffs up your natural body smell, hips moving on their own accord as he manoeuvres a pillow between his legs. he humps it like a dog, groaning and moaning and the strain on his dick is just too much, balling up the undies in his hand and his body tenses at the friction. 

“baby . . f-fuck—” satoru’s voice is high-pitched and choked, all the thoughts of you culminating into one big ball of desperation for you and he cums in his pants, tainting the fabric a darker colour than before. but he’s not done — his hips still move against the pillow, thrusting into the fluff as he rides out his orgasm, moans muffled by the pillow. “miss you . .”

gojo misses you more than anything, feeling so much distance even within the house that he flips over — by now the sun shines its golden rays a little less. the afternoon is winding down into a cool evening — and pulls at the waistband of his pants. he’s still sensitive, wrapping a hand around his hard cock and pumping and the sound that leaves his mouth is borderline slutty. with another smell of your cunt, he strokes his dick, using his cum as lube.

“oh . . r-right there— mhnng . .” satoru’s hips buck into his hand, squeezing and thumbing at his cock before unbundling your panties and wrapping them around his shaft. the sight drives him insane. sure, it’s one of your more everyday underwear, neutral in both design and colour but he can feel the fabric get wetter and wetter from how much cum he’s pushed out earlier and that’s enough to keep his hand pumping. “s-sweetness, cummin—”

gojo’s head makes a dent in your other pillow from how hard he was pushing it, back arching at how the warmth in his hand will never compare to your mouth or pussy. he can already feel his second orgasm approaching, your room filled with the squelch of his cock and his sounds and he shoots his load with a drawn out moan all over your panties and his stomach. his cum is always so much, dripping down his pelvis and onto his hand and also . . yours?

your boyfriend lets out the girliest scream you’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing, scrambling up to the headboard when he sees you hovering over his body. he accidentally kicks your chest in the process and you have to clutch it with a small “ow”, although a small smile is still present on your face.

“having fun?”

“dude, what the fuck?” 

your smile drops, “dude?”

gojo suddenly has his hands moving frantically, “nonono— no, sorry, i meant baby!”

you sigh, sitting back down on your heels as you take in the sight: his still hard cock and the sweat lining his body. his bangs are wet and your eyes flit down to your soiled underwear.

“uh . . i was just borrowing it,” gojo nervously chuckles, handing the cum-filled panty to you and your brows furrow.

“darling, you can’t just give someone back their clothes with your come on it.”

and your boyfriend pouts again, “i really am sorry. and for everything else, too. for not cleaning up and for being a general bum,” this is why you also (sometimes) favoured his unseriousness when you were talking about difficult things. the amount of times you had succumbed to his touches and kisses when you were mad at him was much better than your pride. gojo brings you onto his lap like his dick wasn’t just out, and you relish in the closeness you’ve missed.

“i need you to show me you mean it, ’toru,” he lights up at the nickname he loves just as you point a finger in his face, “aht! calm down. don’t think we’re all buddy-buddy again.”

“i will try,” gojo is smooth, taking your hand into his while the other brushes the hair away from your eyes. you lean into the touch, “and i will try until you see my efforts.”

you smile at his honesty, “and i’m sorry for ignoring you as well. it was childish of me.”

gojo hums, bringing your face in to plant a kiss to your lips, “i missed you like crazy, princess.”

you laugh, “yeah i can tell, i miss you too.” you gesture to all of him and he whines softly at the joke, squeezing your waist.

“you’re not weirded out?”

his breath hitches when you move down his body and situate yourself between them, finger tracing his tip and teasing him, “why would i be? i’ve literally fucked myself wearing your shirt.”

gojo gulps loudly, “you did w-what?”

“i’m just better at not getting caught.” all words are taken from his lips then, when your mouth engulfs him and the feeling of it is just pure insanity. gojo pants and his thighs tense, a hand gathering your hair into a ponytail to keep it from interfering. his eyes fixate on the way your suck him off, recalling the last time he’s watched you do that was in a damn bathroom. 

“y-your mouth—” satoru swears under his breath when you swirl your tongue around his shaft, the tip of his cock making bulges on the side of your mouth and it only leaves him calling out your name time after time.

“y’know,” you gargle on him, slurping up his cum, “i know what you were thinking starin’ at me last night.”

gojo snaps his fingers and mumbles out a shaky damn, because he can always be read like an open book. he just didn’t know he was that obvious.

“looked cute staring,” you mutter around him, “like a little puppy.”

you slap his thick length on your tongue, moaning when you feel just how heavy it is, “you just wanted this so bad, didn’t you?”

gojo whines at your words, nodding, and you go back to the abuse on his dick, bobbing your head up and down as your hand plays with his balls. the other moves over his torso, at the porcelain skin there and you can feel his stomach heaving at your ministrations.

“are you close, baby?” you ask mindlessly, the lewd sounds of his fat cock in your mouth sending sensations right down to your sex as well. you never really listen to his answer, taking a deep breath and sucking in your cheeks and soon you’re deep throating your lover.

“mh— mmf . .” sounds deep from your throat as your nose buries itself in his pubes, and satoru struggles to hold your tantalising stare. he can feel his tip hit the back of your throat and his moans are quick and high-pitched.

“cumming— ’m cumming,” before you come off and you go back to your pace and gojo’s small moans descend into longer ones at the feeling. his eyes roll back right into his skull as he twitches in your mouth and soon he’s spilling right into your throat and tongue.

“baby—” satoru’s eyes are squeezed tightly shut, “s-shit . .” and the sheer amount of cum always takes you off guard, sputtering over it when you drag your lips off of him. your boyfriend’s eyes are hooded and darkened, looking at how the strings of his semen droop from your mouth and connect right to his weeping tip.

“eugh, eat more veggies, ’toru. you’re bitter as fuck.” you say with a giggle, swallowing nonetheless as you wipe a hand across your mouth, “thanks for the meal.”

his spirit has certainly ascended, chest heaving and legs jelly from that mind-blowing orgasm. even he takes solace on the headboard, looking down at you with tired eyes.

“but i’m not done,” you truly weren’t, driving satoru to the brink after you’ve milked him to his limit, and yet he wouldn’t have it any other way as he thrusts into you, having had a new burst of energy after seeing your confidence wane once you’ve gotten his dick in you.

it was cute — your words breaking up and staggering as you sink down for the first time after two days, reduced merely to whines as you ride him. gojo lets you have your fun for a bit before he properly flips you over, pressing down on your lower back.

“fuck yourself onto me, baby,” he can tell you’ve missed him too by how you squeeze around him, a sly grin on his face when your hips push back onto him. he sees the tight hold you have on the silk sheets and the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. “good girl . . juuust like that.”

you’re jerking forward when he slaps your ass, letting it ripple from the force of both of his hand and your hips. but he takes over soon enough, grabbing both your arms and pulling you gently off that you’re hanging limply. and even while he does that, he’s still focused on the way your lips spread to accommodate him together with a ring of white at the base of his cock.

“that feel good? huh?” gojo mumbles, loving the way you arch your back and your head lols forward, just letting him do whatever he wants to you. you’re too far gone to even quell the ache in your thighs, too distracted by the wetness of your pussy.

“feel s— s’good, satoru—!” you moan out and like always satoru is indecisive in everything, now tugging you up to rest chest to back. “g’na cum!”

your legs spread more and more as your lover keeps you tightly pressed against him, an arm around your neck and the other, waist. wordlessly, he guides your face to the side, meeting your mouth in a sloppy, drooling kiss and his hips stutter at the way you mewl into his mouth.

“that right, princess?” he asks into your lips, relishing in your face contorting in pleasure. eyes reaching heaven and your mouth parted cutely even more when he props a leg up and his cockhead presses against your cervix ever so lightly.

“y—yeah . .” it’s a mix between a whine and a moan before the only rub of your clit from satoru’s hand sends you reeling and you’re trembling in his hold. you can feel your juices coat his length just as he cums as well, too obsessed with the way your cunt feels aeons better than his pathetic hand. he litters your skin with groans of his own, continue to fuck his cum back into you as you milk him dry with ropes and ropes of semen painting your womb white.

“good little girl,” he hums, and you sigh at the feeling of him cumming again, sensing him removing himself with you with an obscene pop! and you want to continue. you’re already moving your hips yet again, begging with small please’s but the happy-go-lucky song of the dryer interrupts the both of you. you scowl.

gojo laughs into your neck, and you’re left grumbling as he sets you down gently, letting you catch your breath before he presses a kiss to your sweaty cheek.

“i’ll handle it, baby,” satoru made a promise to you and he’ll keep it. he hurriedly pulls his sweatpants over his bottom half, “you just rest up.”

it’s not even two minutes later that you already miss him, trotting over to the laundry room in nothing but his shirt and you just watch as he removes the clothes with a certain tranquillity and delicateness that you’d like to see this sight more often and all you can muster in the moment is your arms around his middle.

and the sweetness of the moment is immediately ruined by gojo, “let’s fuck here. whaddya say?” 

your roommate and lover can only grin when you turn him around to smack him (“it’s!” slap “not!” slap “sanitary!” slap “here!” slap), finally happy everything’s back to normal. satoru simply presses a kiss to your temple.

[manfuckthisimout]

I promise to god if that man looked at me like this?

FOLDED IMMEDIATELY!

Let me take you through my mid for a moment:

Yoongi doesn’t argue.

He simply doesn’t have the energy to waste on something little and petty like that.

Unless it’s something relationship changing, he’s not going to dwell on it. He prefers to squash the little stuff in favor of peace and solitude.

But that doesn’t mean you can talk crazy to him.

“You know what, fuck the dinner! I don’t care anymore, you can starve for all I care!” Yoongi has been coming home late for three days now, often taking his work home with him. You came into his home studio to ask him what he wanted you to make for dinner, but you were only met with short answers. “Like I said babe, make whatever you want. I’m gonna eat it regardless, just lemme finish this.”

Yoongi was knee deep in producing something or another for some artist in the industry. His work was superb, but he often threw himself into it, often neglecting eating or sleeping for hours at a time. You just wanted to sit down and have a nice meal with your boyfriend, is that too much to ask? “I’m asking you because I want to make something you’d eat now, not after I go to bed.” You spat, eyes narrowed into slits. “I’m still gonna eat regardless, what does it matter the time?” Yoongi replies, his voice cool. You can’t see his expression, for his back is turned to you, but you just know that furrow that appears when he’s focused on two things at once is present between his brows.

You storm over beside his desk, forfeiting your position in the doorway a few seconds prior. “I know you eat Yoongi, but it’s timing that matters! You can’t keep neglecting your needs for some stupid beat that will still be here tomorrow!” You holler, your frustration getting the better of you. His eyebrows raised at the mention of his name. You kept going, “Y’know, why is it you keep bringing this shit home anyway? Are you too busy at work doing something else than get this done? Or someone? Am I not enough for you anymore Yoongi? Is that it?” You seethe.

Yoongi’s head whipped up and over to you so fast you hardly saw it happen. His chair was turned around now, parallel to you standing beside his desk.“What did you say? Say it again.” He says, his voice dangerously low. He was looking at you, daring you to make your assumption again. You were taken aback, almost tripping over his chair due to the sheer closeness of him. But stupidly, you did not yield. “Are you sleeping with another girl! Is that why you seemingly never have anytime for me anymore?” You hiss. His brows raise further, pinching at the top of his forehead to make wrinkles in his skin. He looks positively bewildered, speechless by your audacity.

You two stay like what feels like an eternity. Not blinking, hardly breathing. Suddenly Yoongi turns in his chair and unceremoniously closes his laptop. He’s up and out to his chair a moment later, and approaching you. Cornering you onto the couch that sits besides his desk. “You think…I would cheat on you? Over something as petty as dinner?” His voice is still that same tone, and you suddenly feel like prey about to get eaten whole by its predator. You’re fucked. Suddenly your knees are weak and you can feel your heart hammering in your chest. Yoongi’s eyes are slits, his brows still in that same pinch from when he was sitting down.

“I get the taking care of myself part. I get you wanted to do something nice for me. But assuming I’m cheating on you because I took home some work? I don’t know how you could think that,” Yoongi says, cool and collected. He’s cornered you so far that you’ve fell onto the couch, on your back, facing him. He climbs on top of you. Lowers his face inches from yours. “I have everything I need laying out in front of me. Why would I ever step out?” He says softly.

You’re speechless, a flush crept onto your cheeks. You can feel his breath fanning over you. He’s looking deep into your eyes, following your head movements to keep the contact going. “Answer me, hm? Why would I do that?” Yoongi leans down to press fleeting kisses into your neck. “I-I don’t know…” You say, meek and shy with your words. You feel like an idiot for ever thinking it. Here is this man, tired, hungry—still proving to you that he loves you no matter what.

“You don’t know and..?” Yoongi replies. He pulls from your neck, resting his lips onto your forehead. “I was silly for thinking it. I-I know you would never do that to me. I’m sorry honey.” Yoongi pecks your forehead, leaning back to look at you. He smiles. “I forgive you. Just—don’t do that to me again, please? I don’t know if my heart can take it.” You nod. “Can I have a kiss?” You ask, shyly looking into his eyes. “Of course my love.”

Note: I’ve never written anything this long! (At least not about yoongi lol) this was going to be short like the rest of my content, but it turned into this.

I hope you enjoy!

[lycanlovebites]

busy thinking abt T4T werewolf + vampire boyfriends…

werewolf boyfriend who brings his mate fresh prey every day and carefully cooks the best parts into stews and pies when his mate gets sick.

vampire boyfriend who makes sure that he and his boyfriend takes their allergy meds before they go out to eat garlicky food because they’re both garlic-intolerant and often forget and get upset stomachs afterwards.

werewolf boyfriend who carefully trims his fur around his top surgery scars after every big shift so they’re more visible.

vampire boyfriend who cooks lovely meals for his boyfriend and gratefully drinks his blood afterwards in exchange.

Werewolf boyfriend who gently wraps himself around his mate when he’s recovering from top surgery, propping him up while he rests, bringing him his favorite prey and foods so he heals well. Werewolf boyfriend who makes sure to provide him with plenty of blood-infused drinks and soft foods to help him gain his energy, bringing him medicine and covering him in soft pelts to keep him warm.

Werewolf boyfriend who keeps his mate entertained with tales of old hunts and stories his pack told him, reading his mate’s favorite poetry out loud for hours and quietly howling lullabies until he falls asleep in his fluffy embrace.

Werewolf boyfriend who helps his boyfriend settle into bed and makes sure he doesn’t stay up all night, knowing he would probably be too stubborn to rest when he could be doing so many other things, like rereading that book he loved, or painting, or playing the piano late into the night or lurking around the abandoned church with his fellow bat companions who lived there.

Werewolf boyfriend who sleeps next to his mate, careful to watch his drains and not touch his binder, even though he wants nothing more than to hold his mate safe and tight in his arms as they fall asleep. werewolf boyfriend who makes sure every single one of his mate’s plushies are accounted for and goes hunting around the house for them when one goes missing because he knows his mate misses being able to turn into a bat and resting with his other bat companions and his many plushies make him feel better when he can’t join the other bats. (All the other bats, who are just normal bats not vampires, patiently wait for him to join them when he feels strong enough to shapeshift again to join their colony. For now they wait in the rafters of the manor for him.)

vampire boyfriend who takes care of his big strong boyfriend as he recovers from his top surgery, surrounding him in pillows and silky sheets, making sure he rests and takes things slow because he’s not used to letting himself be taken care of this way.

Vampire boyfriend who meticulously records his boyfriend’s drains, emptying the ampules and saving the blood for later. Taking care of his boyfriend can be a bit tiring and while he wants nothing more than to be there for him, he tends to forget to feed himself, and his boyfriend agrees that there’s no reason for all that blood to go to waste.

Vampire boyfriend who carefully wraps his boyfriend’s painkillers in lumps of cheese and venison to help it go down easier.

Vampire boyfriend who brings his boyfriend new books to read to him and playing his favorite songs on the old piano and letting the melodies echo through their manor, helping his boyfriend out of bed and into the garden so he can feel grass under his paws again and feel wind in his fur.

Vampire boyfriend who gently scratches his boyfriend’s back and behind his ears where he can’t reach. Vampire boyfriend who turns into a bat and rests on his boyfriend’s forehead, giving him little tiny bat kisses on the bridge of his snout as they fall asleep together.

[wayfayrr]

Hey there, I wondered if Tears ever gets insecure about his arm, scars or possibly even his height. Like I find his height absolutely perfect and adorable but he is smaller than most other people and it might bother him?

So I've been wondering how he acts when insecure and what would be a good way to comfort him. I would just hold him and try to convince him of all the good qualities he has. As well as petting through his hair. Making him feel loved and secure. And honestly an extraordinary arm isn't that bad, it doesn't affect who he is after all.

I wonder if that would help or he'd need some other form of comfort. Or maybe to be left alone. Anything from an answer to hc's to a short story or even deletion is fine! If you even have time and are willing that is!

Have a great day! <3

I absolutely loved this request, thank you so much for it - I've gone with three different possible scenarios for why he could be dealing with feeling insecure and some headcanons for how you could help him feel better about himself after each one <3 There is one major one I left out but the issue regarding his memories will definitely be explored some time soon!

honestly exploring tears is just so fun, it's nice tearing into his different layers :3c headcanons under the cut!

[masterlist]

due to his prosthetic 

✦ This is the easiest of his insecurities to deal with, as it only really tends to show itself when his phantom pains act up. 

✦ he’s long used to having lost his arm by the point that you meet, having had to figure out a replacement for when Rauru’s arm faded after his second quest was over.

✦ despite that though he still isn’t used to the ricocheting pain he gets once every so often, less now than when he was first still drowned in gloom but still just as debilitating. 

��� He just needs to taken away from other people and shown affection, reassured that his is a benefit rather than something people only pity him for. 

✦ it’s all he really needs in those moments of vulnerability, when he can feel the flesh being shredded from his none existent bone. 

“Wouldn't it be better if there was some way to just have my arm go back to how it should be? That way I wouldn’t be such a burden when he decides to haunt me again.” “Sherbert whatever do you mean? You aren’t a burden for this, why even consider it?” “The whole group has had to come to a stop just because of this stupid pain and I know you’ve seen time getting pissed off with me for the things I can do with it.” “Time’s just an old man who’s worried about your safety, he means no harm with it. Wars got the rest to come to a stop for the same reason, not because you’re a burden, but because we care for you.” “But If my arm wasn’-” “Your arm is part of who you are. And I wouldn’t have it any other way, I love you for you Li, don’t even waste your energy thinking otherwise.”

✦ another way to help him through these patches is more to do with also indulging his love for learning about your home, or well more to the point - stickers. Giving him ones with meaning and that he thinks are pretty help him to work his confidence back. Because it wouldn't be possible without his arm!

due to his height 

✦ This comes out even rarer than his doubts about his arm, and only due to a very specific scenario and that’s if you’re talking about Earth's beauty standards - how taller people are often seen as more attractive.

✦ If you aren’t quick to say otherwise he’s going to assume that’s what you think too, it’s going to do a real number on his self esteem - because the thing is, he never really cares about what other people think about him, it simply doesn’t even register as something he should be worried about before he met you outside of the memory issue but that’s a whole other thing 

✦ this is the first time that something that REALLY has never been an issue for him becomes a big problem, if you aren’t aware of why he’s feeling like this then the sudden shift will come as a surprise. As he starts to avoid you and tear up whenever you see him before leaving. The rest of the chain mention that they’ve seen him tinkering with things but no one has seen exactly what it is.  

✦ the reason it came up was possibly from another member of the chains jealousy of how close the two of you were before this, or simply another villager trying to get you to go with them ‘because why wouldn’ t you want a tall handsome guy? 

✦ the sooner you can catch on and comfort him the better, as it’ll give it less time to get stuck in his head that you aren’t comforting him because it’s true, and it’s harder to tell himself that it isn’t while you’re pretty much confirming it

✦ but when you finally do get through to him that you don’t care about his height? That you aren’t secretly judging him for being so short? He’ll have a little moment where he breaks down, he’s been avoiding you for so long… and for what? All that time with you he’s missed over such a ridiculous reason will haunt him for at least a few days. 

“Tears? Link what are you doing? You’ve been avoiding me for nearly a week now. And - are those?” “I, no I haven’t been ‘avoiding’ you, just, I’ve just been busy… yeah.” “Were you just making those stilts this whole time? Is that why you’ve blanked me, seriously?” “I just - I, that - in the village.” “Hey, hey lilac there’s no need to cry love, I’m not angry, I’ve just missed you. You don’t have to tell me why, it’s just worried me.” “It - that guy, what he said - I just, wouldn’t you prefer someone taller?” “Well someone taller wouldn’t be you love. And I couldn’t even imagine being with someone else.” “R-really?” “Really darling.”

✦ he'll be impossibly clingy and almost showy after the fact, to the point where other people start getting concerned about how close he's getting - but it's not like he's hurt anyone else over it yet but if the villager who planted the idea in his head ever appears again then, well who would blame him..?

due to his sexuality (haha demiromantic asexual tears hc stepping innn)

✦ This is a bit more of a unique one, because it isn’t something he’s had to put all that much thought into before, it’s just never come up, but when he hears how some of the others talk about relationships he starts to have doubts about himself. 

✦ He simply doesn’t feel things that the others have described and the things that he has felt happened so much slower than how they said it did for them. He simply can’t help but question if there was- is something wrong with him. 

✦ He only started to fall when he was good friends with you, not the instant connection that he heard that time had with malon, or twi with midna. He doesn’t want you the person who he loves more than his own life to be with someone who he’s starting to think as so broken. If he can’t feel love ‘right’ then how could he hope to treat you right? 

✦ If he learns about this being normal, about the fact that other people share the same things as him, that he has flags that can use to show off his identity? It’s the biggest relief that he’s felt since meeting someone who treated him like a person. 

✦ once he’s gotten it through his head that he’s not broken, and that he doesn’t need to be worried about not being enough for you. You accept him for what he is and aren’t trying to make him change. It’s something he very very rarely gets to experience, and it definitely helps him feel even closer to you in the end 

✦ some of the biggest comfort he gets is you just accepting him and letting his feelings progress at his natural rate, it’s one of the best things he could have hoped for.

[thebest-medicine]

Day 14: Soft

Tickletober 2023 - Critical Role - C2 - Caleb / Mollymauk - lee!Molly

[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]

[read on AO3]

A/N: Based on “Date someone who will give you back scratches when they’re reading or watching something next to you, and when you squirm they just smile because they know you love it and continue until you’re giggling up a storm. Better if they sigh slightly “You’re disturbing my peace” and tickle you more until you’re a puddle and they have the goofiest smile on their face.”

Words: 1.2k

—

Caleb doesn’t look up from the page when Molly walks into the library. He doesn’t even look up when Molly makes it over to the desk, trailing a finger over the wizard’s hunched shoulders. “And how are you doing this evening, Mr. Caleb?” 

“Mm. Fine. And you?” Caleb replies, his gaze still focused intently on the text before him. 

“Just fine, myself—was wondering if you’d like some company.” Mollymauk hops up onto the table, watching for a look, a glance, a little more attention. But, Caleb is dedicated, persistent—something Molly admires about him greatly. He leans back and spreads out amongst the pile of books and scrolls, knocking a few to the floor. 

“You are just as bad as the cat, you know. Maybe worse.”

“And yet here we are in a home full of cats.” Molly’s voice is smug, teasing. “Do you just have a love for being close to beings that mess with you?”

Caleb rolls his eyes. 

There we go. The eyes aren’t on Molly yet, but they are torn briefly from the book. An in. 

Molly’s tail coils around Caleb’s wrist. “Take a little break with me, won’t you?” 

Caleb huffs an almost laugh. “Maybe, in a bit.”

Mollymauk releases his wrist, pouting. He taps his nails a few times, thinking. His tail flicks.

A few minutes pass. He spins awkwardly on the table, knocking off a few more books and nearly tumbling into Caleb’s lap; he turns his head to give him a look—a rather cute, pleading, eyes-wide, I-need-you-to-pay-me-some-attention kind of look. 

Caleb fights with a fond smile as his eyes flick up over the pages of the book to finally take it all in. “Alright, Liebchen.” He sighs, marks his page in the book, and closes it shut, scooting his chair back to stand. “Not a break, I’m not done yet, but… come.”

Molly sits up, stretches, and the pleased smile on his face is just as apparent in his eyes. He follows as Caleb gets up and makes his way to the much more comfortable, much better place to read —in Molly’s opinion. The sofa cushions are soft, and it’s long enough that Caleb can sit down and Molly can lounge about where he likes. The tiefling wastes no time crawling right into Caleb’s lap. He settles in face down, chin resting on his arms.

As soon as Caleb gets the book open and the bookmark safely set down, he reaches with the hand not holding up his reading materials to scratch gently at Mollymauk’s scalp.

Molly makes quite a few little sounds of approval as Caleb’s fingers card through his hair and he melts within a matter of minutes. Fingers slide gently down the back of his scalp, sending tingles down his spine as they travel down to his neck. Molly fidgets slightly, the feeling starting to prickle at the edge of ticklish. He hums, content and bubbly, against Caleb’s thigh and squirms into the nest of his own arms he’s made for himself in the wizard’s lap. 

The fingers continue, light and gentle and soothing, to make their way lower onto his shoulders and upper back. It’s considerably more ticklish, but still bearable enough to release all of the silly energy with a hum and a few squirms every so often. As Caleb’s fingers trail languidly over Molly’s shoulders, side to side, he reads away above him, by all appearances not noticing the twitches below. 

Each time fingers pass over a spot that hedges too close to ticklish to stay still, they continue on, not taking any extra time or particular care. But—the thing is, with how thoroughly Caleb is tracing over his back, scratching and caressing gently, he keeps going back to those spots, passing them over and over. And Molly already knows there’s a lot of them. It feels nice, it’s tingly and warm and close and just the right amount of teasing. He doesn’t want to give the wizard reason to stop any time soon, like squirming out of his lap after he just asked for attention. But also, he considers, maybe Caleb will abandon his studies and really have a go at him if he asks nice — it’s already gotten him this far. 

For now, Molly opts to keep quiet, as still as he can reasonably maintain, and enjoy the affection. He’s gone with the flow many times in his life, and Caleb’s flow seems like one he would very much like to follow.  

Caleb’s hand continues down, down, tickles along his back, down past his waist and Molly wriggles deeper into his lap and the couch. “Eehee- wa- heheheeEE—” He squeals into the crook of his elbow as Caleb’s blunt fingernails tickle softly over his ass, down toward the back of his thigh. “Fuck.” Molly hisses, muffled. The tracing, tickling wizard claw slowly makes it way down over his thigh to the back of his knee and Molly’s leg jerks closed involuntarily. “Nnggeh- naha shihit.” 

“Be careful with those.” Caleb says sternly, an unmistakable peppering of amusement in his voice. 

Molly whines quietly into his arms and lays his leg back out straight. 

The game continues to build pace slowly, one hand always on the book and the other slowly tinkering with various sensitivities he can find on Molly. His shoulder blades, the backs of his ribs, his spine, anywhere near the dip of his waist or tail, the small of his back, his knees, his thighs, his ass… no where was left safe and unscrutinized. And yet, it was still so delicate, earnest, curious, and innocent. Little tingles and sparks light up across Molly’s nervous system. He’s content to live within this afternoon for the rest of his waking hours. 

Then, the next time Caleb’s hand reaches up to turn the page of his book, it reappears just where the top of Molly’s thigh meets his ass. He gasps in a breath as the fingers wiggle, more deliberate and ticklish, over the skin there. They stay in that spot; unlike the skating, absentminded tickling of before — this has purpose, this has focus and intent. 

Molly tries to peak up at him, abandoning his arm nest to turn and peer behind him. He gets a face-full of book for his trouble. And a pinch to the back of his thigh. He squawks at that, kicking the cushions behind him. “MmPFF!” He reburies his face to try hiding the bright laughter threatening to spill over. 

“I’m trying to read, keep quiet down there.” Caleb, bemused, scolds cheekily from behind his book. 

Molly rolls his eyes and tries to sit up on his elbows while fighting off more laughter. Without looking, Caleb runs a few fingers clumsily down his tail. Molly falters and crumples back into the wizard’s lap. “N-no fair.” Molly whines through his giggling. “Are yohohou gonna read all night?” 

“It will take me a while, yes, if you keep distracting me.” Caleb replies, matter-of-factly.

[deathbystero]

'cause we're just kids who grew up way too fast

in which Ponyboy struggles to come to terms with everything. a/n - here's the full chapter y'all. lemme know if it's worth carrying on with and if you have any ideas on what I can do to extend the plot, feel free to request or give me some ideas

It’s only been a few weeks since that night—coming on three, to be exact. I don’t think things will ever go back to how they were; how could they? With Johnny and Dallas gone, everything feels off-kilter in some way. Like a loose thread just waiting to be pulled, ready to fall away and leave nothing but a gaping hole in its place. 

Home doesn’t feel like home anymore. Not really—not in the same way it was before. Things are a lot quieter. A lot emptier. I don’t think Darry minds all that much; an empty house is a peaceful house, even under all the unsettling tension. 

The gang feels a lot closer now, too. I suppose that’s one good thing about all of this, but nobody is quite themselves anymore. There isn’t as much energy in the air; there aren’t many laughs around anymore, and nobody smiles as often as they used to. It's like everyone is carrying around a weighty cloud on their shoulders, or maybe they’re just trying to keep their minds busy with something else. But we never talk about those days anymore; no one does. The topic makes us uncomfortable, like a wound that can never be healed. 

Maybe it’s just me who can’t get used to living without them. 

The nightmares still come every once in a while, more now than they used to. Sometimes they’re pretty bad—Johnny and Dallas making frequent appearances, their faces blurred, their voices distorted. Sometimes, I realise that I’m starting to forget the little things about them: the way Johnny would tilt his head a little to the left (or maybe it was to the right) when he was talking; the way Dallas would bite his lip when concentrating hard on something, even if he didn't seem to notice himself doing it. Everything seems to be slipping through my fingers faster than I can grasp, trying desperately to hold onto the memories, begging them not to fade away into the background. 

Maybe that’s why they haunt me so often: because I'm afraid—afraid that someday I won't remember them at all. 

Darry slept on the floor in my bedroom for a little while after that night, too scared to leave me alone after everything. He’s been doing that a lot lately, constantly checking up on me, even when I'm only in the next room over. Sodapop says it's because he's scared I’ll disappear again, which is ridiculous; I’ve got nowhere to run to, and even if I did, I doubt I’d want to anyway. Without Johnny to keep me company, I might as well be right here in Tulsa forever. 

There was never anything in the papers about Johnny and Dallas—at least not anything good. They don’t write editorials for “murderers” and hoodlums. Nobody would read them anyway. It would be a waste of ink, a waste of print, and a waste of paper. It’d just be another story about another couple of kids from the east side who wound up dead. No one would care. No one would even know what happened to them, not until somebody started asking questions, and even then, the truth would be twisted. Nobody knows what happened. Nobody but me. They can try to understand, just like Sodapop, Two-Bit,  Steve, and Darry have tried, but they won’t ever see it the same. Not like I do. 

For a long time after the incident, I tried convincing myself that Johnny wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be; you don’t just lose your closest buddy in one night. That doesn’t just happen. And yet, it had happened to me. 

To be truthful, I still don’t really believe that Johnny is dead. It’s stupid, irrational, and childish, but I can’t help but cling to that notion like my life depends on it. Maybe I'm losing it a bit, growing a little delusional. Darry seems to think so. Not a day goes by where he isn't telling me to “get my damn head out of the clouds” or to “get my act together."

I’m trying, really, I am, but sometimes it gets hard. The truth hurts too much. So I decided it was better to just pretend that it hadn’t happened. Pretend the entire mess never went down. That’s easier than confronting reality, even though I know there are some aspects of Johnny and Dallas’ deaths that are very, very real. Too real to be ignored. And it’s not like I can ignore it, can I? It’s part of me—a piece of me—a piece of my memory that I can never fully forget. I’ll just have to live with it.

That’s easier said than done, though.

[louhilainen]

Why King of Scars sucked, part 1.

So after finishing the duology a few weeks ago, I finally feel I’ve healed enough to rant about it, lol. I don’t have the energy to talk about everything I hated about the duology, because I don’t want to waste too much of my energy and time on the bullshit called King of Scars. But since I’m such a bitter bitch, I’ll talk about some issues I had with it. Mind you, I might remember some things wrong, and I have to admit that I don’t want to reread the books in detail, so this can be taken with a grain of salt. 

So firstly let’s talk about Zoya, and more specifically her past and why it failed me (and I think lots of other readers as well) to feel any kind of sympathy for her. So in the original trilogy we learn that Zoya had an aunt and niece in Novokribirsk, a town that the Darkling destroyed in an attempt to show off his powers to foreign emissaries. That made her ally herself with Alina, despite her being originally hostile and mean to her out of jealousy. No other information is provided about her past, and we do not learn anything about her aunt or niece. IMO Zoya was a fine side character in the trilogy. She’s bitchy, full of herself, but she’s not insufferable, and I liked the growing friendship between her and Alina. I will always remember Alina squeezing Zoya’s hand when Alina and the gang feared being buried alive in the tunnels. 

In the duology… Well, we all know what she’s like there. She’s mean, but not in an entertaining way, but in an exhausting way. She loses her temper so often that whoever made her the general of the second army must have been out of their mind (Looking at you, Nikolai), yet everyone still gushes about how beautiful and competent she is (Despite there being no evidence whatsoever about her being a good soldier or a leader, expect that she’s kick ass strong Squealer I suppose.). Everyone fears her, but for some reason they love her. (Or so we are told by who else but Nikolai). 

In the duology Zoya’s tragic past is extended beyond the trilogy. We learn that she was a child bride, sold by her own mother to a wealthy and rich man, and her aunt saved her from being married and took her to Little Palace as her powers surfaced. Oh, she’s also half-Suli, but can pass as Ravkan. But I could not bring myself to care about Zoya’s sad past. I’ve tried to think about why that is, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s because Zoya’s past has no effect whatsoever on the story.

How her past/trauma is handled is a stark contrast to how Kaz's trauma is shown in SoC (Mind you, I have my own issues with Kaz and SoC, but let’s not go there). In the SoC we learn there’s something behind Kaz’s ruthlessness and drive in making money. We also learn he cannot touch other people with his bare hands and that there’s something going on with him and Pekka Rollins and it’s personal. All the hints make the reader curious about Kaz’s past and what exactly happened. Later on, it’s revealed that Rollins swindled him and his older brother out of all their money. Weakened, Kaz’s brother died to an epidemic and Kaz almost too. The whole experience molded him into what he was.  

(Excuse me, but this part of my rant may be foggy, because I cannot pinpoint exactly why I hated the way Zoya’s sad past was written, but I’ll try my best.) But Zoya’s tragic background isn’t shown like Kaz’s. It’s just told. Yeah, we already know Zoya had relatives in Novokribirsk, so there’s no mystery there like in Kaz’s case. But I argue that if the author could still have written in a more interesting way. As it is now, it just doesn’t work. Zoya’s sad past is just some kind of decoration, of which purpose is to make us feel sorry for her. I felt Zoya’s past didn’t explain or add anything meaningful about her character. If anything, it left me angry, because clearly I was supposed to side with her, but I couldn’t.

Kaz’s trauma is closely linked to who he is. If what had not happened to him, he would be an entirely different person. But all Zoya’s background offers her the reason to join Alina and to hate the Darkling. You could argue that it’s part of the reason why Zoya is so mean, because she doesn’t want to get hurt by caring about people (But she was mean before losing her family so…). But if that’s the case, then it was poorly written. As it is now, It doesn’t explain her behavior. If you took her sad past away from her, it would change nothing. (The only scene I remember making a difference was when Zoya got mad at the pilgrims, and made a storm that made her, Nikolai and Yuri to be trapped with the saints). So why even add it there? Who knows. My best guess is to earn pity points from the reader.

So I hope this makes sense. I really could have elaborated this more, but I just don’t want to, lol. But next time I’m going to talk about the holy trinity of the Darkling’s victims: Zoya, Alina and Genya. Amen.

[bloody-bee-tea]

IntiMarch 2024 Day 19 - Trust me enough

The prompt for this was "I'm here for you"

Suguru is an insanely private person, Satoru had enough time by now to realise that. Sure, Suguru talks about what he likes and dislikes and he shares funny little thoughts with Satoru, but he never ever talks about his childhood, his parents or any other relatives.

Satoru knows that Suguru is living alone, even though he’s never been to his place, and that’s all, really.

It’s not that he minds it, much. Suguru is his best friend, despite the obvious holes in his lives and even though he never talks about any of that Satoru doesn’t feel as if he’s being kept out of the loop or if Suguru is keeping secrets from him.

Suguru is still the person Satoru trusts most. It just seems like maybe Satoru isn’t the one Suguru trusts the most because he very adamantly does not want to talk about why he looks like shit.

“You sleeping okay?” Satoru asks well into their evening, when Suguru is half asleep on the couch, listing more and more towards Satoru, his eyebags so deep that for a moment Satoru thought it was make-up.

“Sure,” Suguru’s non-answer is to that and Satoru rolls his eyes.

“Bullshit,” he whispers, which makes Suguru tense for a moment, before Satoru simply pulls him closer towards himself. “Sleep here if you can’t at home,” he decides and Suguru doesn’t even seem to have the energy to protest that, because he goes heavy against Satoru and then that’s that.

He doesn’t even wake when Satoru drags him over to his bed and that, too, is worrying.

It’s not often that Suguru stays over, but it’s by far not the first time they share a bed, so Satoru has no qualms about sliding in right behind him, already thinking about what he could make Suguru for breakfast tomorrow.

These days he’s always buying food for two, because he wants to be prepared for when Suguru drops by without a notice and looking as if he’s ready to keel over at any time.

Satoru is not much of a cook, but during that time period where Suguru lost a few pounds for no reason whatsoever he learned how to cook decently well. It’s still not one of his favourite things to do but he knows enough by now to make balanced meals that won’t kill the both of them in a week or so.

Suguru had regained his weight with Satoru’s constant pestering and so mostly Satoru doesn’t even feel bad about it.

Except for the fact that he needs to pester Suguru in the first place because he’s not taking care of himself. Or he’s trying too hard to take care of himself.

No matter what, Satoru knows he’ll have to bring it up and rather soon, because seeing Suguru waste away in front of him like that is not something he enjoys doing.

But that is a conversation for the next morning.

~*~*~

When Satoru wakes up, Suguru is already awake. He’s still in bed though, and he does seem marginally more rested than the night before so Satoru counts it as a win.

“Had trouble sleeping?” Satoru asks, lazily stretching and daring to throw a glance at the clock.

It’s fucking early and Satoru falls back into bed with a groan.

“No, not when I’m here,” Suguru gives back and it has Satoru perking up, because that is more than he usually gets out of Suguru.

“Listen, Suguru,” he starts and watches how Suguru almost immediately clams down on him.

“Don’t, Satoru,” he warningly says and Satoru shakes his head, his hands reaching out to tangle in Suguru’s shirt.

“No, you will listen,” he orders him and he’s not afraid to stare him down.

Other people might be scared by that gaze but not Satoru, never has been and never will be. Suguru really should know better than that.

Suguru stays stubbornly quiet, but that’s fine since it’s what Satoru expected to happen in the first place and it’s not as if he needs Suguru to talk anyway.

“I just wanted to say, that no matter what, I am here for you. If you ever feel like talking about what the hell is going on with you, then I’m here. You can tell me anything, though I hope you already know that. I just—” Satoru bites his lower lip as he reaches out to push Suguru’s bang away from his face. “I just want you to be okay. And if I can help in any way, then you’ll let me know, alright.”

Suguru continues to stay quiet, which is fine and all, so Satoru gives him a small smile.

“That’s all. Now, any special orders for breakfast?” he then asks as he untangles himself from the blanket and from Suguru and gets out of bed.

“Put some fruit in whatever the hell you’re making, you always eat too much sugar,” Suguru says as if Satoru isn’t the one who has been in charge of keeping both of them healthy lately, but he still nods.

“Sure thing, boss.”

“And Satoru?” Suguru calls out for him, just as he’s about to leave the room.

“Mh?” he asks and turns back, surprised to see the serious look on Suguru’s face.

“Thank you. I—can’t, yet, or maybe ever, but—thanks.”

“Always, Suguru, I promise,” Satoru replies, his heart fluttering in his chest, because this is the very first time that Suguru even so much as hinted at the fact that something might not be okay.

It’s a start and Satoru will gladly take it.

~*~*~

Suguru’s health continues to decline. His face is gaunt, his eyes are tired, the bags are permanent and his appetite is almost non-existent.

Things have never been perfectly fine for Suguru, Satoru knows that because he was already working a job by the time they met and it was more than clear the he kind of needed that one to stay alive but this is reaching new heights.

New worrying heights, Satoru despairingly thinks as he watches Suguru push the food on his table around instead of eating it.

“Suguru,” he carefully starts and Suguru is so out of it that he only gets a weak grunt in reply. “How many jobs are you working?” Satoru wants to know because he suspects it’s no longer just one.

“Two, sometimes three,” Suguru lifelessly replies and Satoru is honestly just waiting for the moment his head drops forward, right into their dinner, like in the movies.

There are a lot of things Satoru wants to ask, wants to know, but he definitely knows that if he pushes too hard or goes on and on with his questions, Suguru will clam up again and he doesn’t want them to fight.

Suguru is so much more prone to fights lately, his temper short and bad and Satoru blames the sleep deprivation and the malnourishment.

So Satoru doesn’t say anything more, and instead puts a few vegetables on Suguru’s plate. He loves those, usually, and Satoru hopes that maybe like this he’ll at least get a little bit of food into him.

It doesn’t work and even though Satoru’s heart sinks, he lets it go.

At least for now.

~*~*~

Suguru’s hands are shaking as he picks up his glass of water and Satoru notices it with worry. Suguru is running himself ragged with whatever the hell he’s doing and Satoru can hardly stand to see it.

“Suguru, are you okay?” he asks, out of the blue and in the middle of a rather dramatic monologue in the movie they are watching but he couldn’t care less.

He only cares about Suguru.

Suguru gives him a warning glance but when Satoru doesn’t back down he lets out a deep sigh.

“I’m staying safe,” he says as if that’s any kind of answer to the question Satoru just asked and so Satoru leans forward, closer into Suguru’s space.

“Okay, but. Are you okay?” he asks again and just like that Suguru bursts into tears.

It’s so surprising that it takes Satoru a few seconds to react but then he’s quick to pull Suguru in his arms.

He shakes and he sobs and he cries for a very long time, and it feels as if Satoru’s heart is being torn into two.

Suguru should never be like this, should never be as desperate and defeated as he is now and Satoru wishes he would just talk to him so that maybe Satoru can fix it.

When Suguru’s sobs die down, Satoru nuzzles the top of his head and asks: “What do you need?”

“To not work three jobs,” Suguru bitterly mutters, his voice still heavy with tears and Satoru nods.

“Okay. Do you need to do that for rent?”

“Among other things,” Suguru cryptically gives back and Satoru sighs.

“If you were to live here, would that make things better?” he asks and curses under his breath when that makes Suguru pull away.

“Satoru,” he warningly says, but his face is still read and there are tear tracks on his face, so there is no way in hell that Satoru is going to back down right now.

“Answer me.”

“I—I could maybe drop one job,” Suguru finally admits, “but I can’t do that, Satoru, you don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me. Why can’t you?”

He’s not asking for the reason Suguru is working three jobs, or what ‘other things’ even entail; all he wants to know is why Suguru cannot move in with him and not bother with rent anymore.

“What if you get sick of me or we fight or something? I’d have nothing.”

It’s a valid concern, even though it makes Satoru wonder what Suguru had to go through so far to have to worry about something like that, but it’s also an easy fix.

“We’ll write you in the lease. That way it’ll be your apartment, too, and you have a legal right to be here, even if I should want kick you out. How’s that?”

“And I pay half the rent?”

“No rent,” Satoru shakes his head. “Absolutely not. It’s not as if—you said one job. Living here with me would only allow you to quit one job.”

“Yeah,” Suguru says, already closed off again and Satoru knows that he’s not getting any kind of explanation as to why he needs the jobs in the first place.

“What if—what if we do the same thing with my bank account?” he asks and Suguru stares at him with huge eyes.

“Huh?”

“I mean—you know I have more money than I reasonably know what to do with thanks to my family, so—why not use that? We can make it a shared bank account and you can take as much or as little as you need. We’d pay the rent from that account too, so it’s almost as if you’re paying your share and then you don’t have to worry about money again.”

“Fucking rich people,” Suguru mutters under his breath but some of the desperation has left his eyes and that’s all that matters to Satoru right now.

“I’d still want to work one job and save that money up in case—”

Things with us go wrong, Suguru doesn’t say but Satoru hears it loud and clear.

“Suguru, I don’t want you to stop working at all, not if you enjoy doing it. I just want you to stop working three jobs at once and killing yourself over it.”

Suguru works his jaw, clearly thinking things over and Satoru—for once in his life—is content to wait him out.

It’s important that he doesn’t push him too far too soon, because he definitely doesn’t want Suguru to shut down on him again.

“I’d—have to think about it,” Suguru finally says and Satoru lets out a breath of relief.

That’s better than he dared to hope for, if he’s being honest.

“That’s fine,” he immediately agrees and tries to pull Suguru into another hug again, but he stops him with a hand on his chest.

“Satoru, I might not ever tell you,” he warns him, without elaborating but Satoru understands anyway.

“That’s fine, Suguru,” he gives back and tugs on Suguru’s arm until he gets the hint and crashes into Satoru’s chest. “You either tell me all of it, or just some or none at all and it’s all fine. If you don’t want to talk about it, then that’s fine, just know that I’m here. If that changes, I’m here.”

“It—it’s not just me, Satoru. I can’t—it’s not just me. If I fuck up, it’s not just me that’s going to suffer.”

A thousand questions are at the tip of Satoru’s tongue at hearing that but he swallows them all down. He already pushed enough for today, Suguru’s admission is proof enough of that.

“Okay. Think about it. The offer stands and it has no expiration date.”

It’s all Satoru can do, at the moment, besides being there for Suguru.

Suguru opened up more to him than ever before and for now it has to be enough.

~*~*~

Satoru wakes up to incessant knocking at his door. He groans as he rolls around to check the time and then he curses when he realises it’s the middle of the night. Satoru has half a mind ignoring whoever it is that’s disturbing his sleep right now but the knocking doesn’t slow down and there’s no way Satoru can get any more sleep like this.

So he rolls out of bed, disgruntled and mad, and he hopes both those emotions show on his face as he yanks open the door.

Only to freeze completely in surprise when he spots Suguru at the other side, with a little girl in his arms and one standing behind him.

Suguru looks scared and tired and weary and both girls are silently crying.

“I’m sorry,” Suguru says when Satoru can’t find his voice fast enough and it finally jolts Satoru into action.

“Come in, come in,” he steps to the side, motions for them to get in, and only barely catches the girl still standing when she falls forward as her support moves away.

“Fuck, Nanako,” Suguru mutters, but Satoru hoists her up in his arms and the girl is asleep before her head hits his shoulder.

“I’ve got her. Let’s put them down in my bed. Do they need something?” he asks, gently pushing Suguru towards his bedroom.

“No, they just—sleep would be good.”

Not just for the girls, Satoru suspects, and so he nods.

“Alright, off we go then.”

They get the girls situated quickly and silently and when Suguru wants to leave the room with Satoru, Satoru stops him with a hand to his chest.

“You, too, Suguru,�� he says with a nod towards the bed.

“I need to explain,” Suguru protests and Satoru narrows his eyes at him.

“Is anything you want to explain to me time sensitive? Do you have to be somewhere tomorrow, is something going to happen if you don’t do something on time?” he asks and waits until Suguru shakes his head. “Then off to bed you go,” he says and pushes Suguru back towards the bed. “I’ll be here and we can talk after you got some sleep.”

“Fine, fine,” Suguru mutters and then pulls Satoru into a hug. “Thank you.”

It’s not as if Satoru has done a whole lot yet, but he still hugs Suguru back before he shoves him towards the bed again.

Satoru is burning with questions but Suguru seems ready to keel over at any moment and an explanation can wait until the next day.

~*~*~

Satoru wakes up to the smell of coffee. His back hurts something fierce from sleeping on the couch but he drags himself up anyway because the coffee smells exactly like he usually takes it and he’s not surprised to find Suguru in the kitchen, most of the breakfast already done.

“Good morning,” Satoru says, making a beeline to his coffee and Suguru briefly turns away from the stove to give him a small smile.

“Morning.”

Suguru quickly finishes the last two pancakes before he drops everything on the table and sits down opposite of Satoru.

“Are you awake, like, truly?” Suguru asks and Satoru would be offended if it wasn’t such a valid question.

Suguru has had whole conversations with him he doesn’t remember a word of because he was still half asleep at the time.

“I am truly awake,” Satoru promises him and Suguru sighs.

“Okay, explanations then,” he whispers and Satoru’s hand shoots out, covering Suguru’s with his.

“If you want to. You are under no obligation to tell me anything,” he reminds him because it’s important that Suguru knows that.

Sure, Satoru can’t deny that he has a million questions but if Suguru doesn’t want to answer a single one, then Satoru would rather take a no than make Suguru do something he doesn’t want to do.

“I know,” Suguru quietly admits. “I know that, Satoru. I want to. It’s long overdue anyway, I shouldn’t ever have kept any of this a secret.”

Maybe, Satoru wants to agree, but it’s not his place to say and Suguru will have had his reasons, so he bites his tongue and stays quiet.

“The girls were fostered in the same family that I was,” Suguru starts. “Nanako and Mimiko. I—they are eight now. My foster parents got them shortly before I moved out and I talked to the CPS about it but they didn’t listen. My foster parents—things weren’t nice there,” Suguru admits and doesn’t quite dare to meet Satoru’s eyes. “I didn’t want the girls growing up there but no one was listening to me.”

“So you kept in touch,” Satoru guesses, focusing on that instead of anything else Suguru just said. The girls didn’t seem like they were afraid of a stranger last night. They seemed to trust Suguru.

“I tried to keep visiting,” Suguru agrees with a sigh. “My foster parents quickly caught on and demanded money in exchange.”

“You had to pay to see them?” Satoru asks for clarification and lets out a long breath when Suguru nods.

That certainly explains the three jobs he was working.

“I wasn’t ever allowed to see them at home, though, they always dropped them off somewhere. Nanako and Mimiko are bright girls, lively and wonderful, but they got quieter and quieter the more time passed. They wouldn’t talk to me anymore, wouldn’t mention what was going on at home at all. It worried me.”

“And I’d guess rightfully so.”

“Yeah. I went there, yesterday, without prior announcement. I still know where they keep the keys, so I got in. Satoru, you don’t know—” Suguru breaks off with a sob and Satoru moves around the table to hug him.

“They kept them in a cage,” Suguru hisses out between his tears and Satoru goes cold all over.

“What?”

“There was this huge fucking cage in the living-room, like a kennel. They kept them like dogs!”

“Fucking hell,” Satoru whispers because what else is there to say, really.

“I tried to get them out but my foster parents came home before I found the key. They attacked me with a knife for it.”

“They did what? Suguru, are you hurt?” Satoru frantically asks, moving away to flutter his hands all over Suguru’s body, trying to spot any injury.

“I’m fine, Satoru, I’m fine. A paramedic already checked me out, I got one surface slash; it got bandaged and that’s it.”

“You called an ambulance?”

“And the police, too, after I knocked both of them unconscious. All of this happened in the afternoon; I’ve been at the station since maybe 4pm,” Suguru tells him and it’s no wonder that he seems absolutely exhausted.

“What’s going to happen now?” Satoru asks because if the police is involved things might be difficult for Suguru.

“The girls said they want to stay with me, and I also said that I’m amenable to that. I can foster them, no problem.”

“But?” Satoru asks because he senses a big but coming.

He knows Suguru too well after all.

“I—” Suguru awkwardly clears his throat. “I might have told the police that I’m moving in with my boyfriend and I gave them your address for any further correspondence.”

Satoru’s heart threatens to beat right out of his chest but he forces himself to appear calm, even though he feels anything but.

“Suguru, you don’t have to, you know that, right? My offer stands, no matter what and if we have to move to a bigger apartment to accommodate all of you in separate rooms, then that’s no problem. You don’t have to do that because you think you owe me or anything.”

“What if I’m doing it because I’m in love with you?” Suguru gives back and leans in, almost close enough for their lips to meet. “What then?”

“Then I’d say you’re moving in with your boyfriend,” Satoru whispers, before he closes the distance between them. “But I just need to make it clear that you can change your mind at any time. The last few weeks must have been hell for you and I just want you to be okay, no matter what. If this isn’t what you want—”

“Satoru I’ve been in love with you since basically the moment I met you,” Suguru interrupts him with a chuckle and Satoru gapes at him.

“I see,” he finally mutters, darting in to press a kiss to the corner of Suguru’s mouth. “Alright then.” One more kiss. “Are the girls okay with sharing a room or do we have to move?”

“I think for now they are okay with that,” Suguru replies and pulls Satoru so close that he doesn’t have another choice but to sit on his lap. “Thank you. Seriously, Satoru, you’re the best. I don’t know if I could have done any of this without knowing you’d have my back.”

“I always have your back, no matter what.”

“And me coming with the girls now is not too much?”

“Hell no,” Satoru immediately says because he honestly means it that no matter what, he’ll always be in Suguru’s corner. And if he allows it he’ll always be by his side, too.

“I love you,” Suguru sighs out at hearing that and drops his head to Satoru’s shoulder.

“I love you, too, kids and all,” Satoru replies, burying his hand in Suguru’s hair, and pressing a kiss to it as well.

There will be a lot of phone calls to make—changing the lease and the bank account, first and foremost—before they get Suguru’s stuff from his apartment and buy things for the girls, but for right now, Satoru enjoys this quiet moment in his kitchen.

It’ll likely be the last for a while, he thinks when he hears the tell-tale squeak of his bedroom door opening, but as long as Suguru is here, Satoru couldn’t mind that less.

[totaleclipse573]

hey have you ever thought about what the other guardians wouldve been like if any of them had been corrupted instead of doleon

Oh. Oh TOO often.

Allow me to introduce you to the strange brainrot I’ve been having. AT LAST AN EXCUSE TO TALK ABOUT IT. Rant ahead. I warned you.

AKMAD. Listen. Spending his entire life enforcing the rules, being the “stubborn and stern” one at all times, never once daring to question why they couldn’t do more with the shards, step out of any boundaries or try anything new. He just followed. Did what he was told. One day for SOME reason he decides to try it…oh. That doesn’t feel bad at all.

It’s weird to his brothers, the way he slowly started to loosen up. Do whatever you want lmao it’s fine!! Nothing bad actually happens! It was all a lie!! He’s feeling so so normal about that!! Chaos ensues, specifically with the more reckless brothers like Ragnar, Lorcan and Doleon. It’s all well and good aside from that. Yk. Despite Akmad possibly spiraling. Soon after something feels…different. If one of the shards and their energy makes him feel good…feel powerful…what could all seven do? All he had were these dumb light powers he didn’t know what to do with…nothing has meaning anymore anyway! Not anything he would’ve previously thought! So why not try it?? Except…they were all connected to them. Wasting them.

He’d make a far better fit to hold all that power. He knows he would. They know he would. He should have it all to himself. He could do better. He could reject order and rules. He could be free.

I have to wonder, would the survivor of the eventual situation change? Kieran wasn’t killed because Doleon hesitated. Resisted, if you will. Because that was the one most important to him.

I can’t exactly see Erebus getting corrupted, he’d more than likely be able to see the consequences beforehand and not even try it. BUT. If somehow, he were, he’d be TERRIFYING. YOU GET WHAT I MEAN?? Unable to be stopped because he KNOWS what will be attempted. Able to plan way before. Goodness. Villain with foresight, maybe even one he’s now allowed to control. BAD IDEA (good idea it’s a bad evening for EVERYONE.) He’d be an “eerily calm until provoked and he just snaps entirely” type villain if that makes sense

Orpheus………

he’s just a big little guy I can’t do that to him 😭😭 I COULD see him getting overly curious though. Yet he’d be cautious at the same time soooo…this is a complicated one to answer tbh! If it DID somehow happen though I think it would scare him the most. Trying to ignore the sounds in his head by hanging out and being silly with his brothers like he always is!! Wanna play fight? :D

Someone gets hurt. He knows sometimes it would result in accidental pain if he wasn’t careful due to his strength but…he seriously hurt his brother. Did he break something?? It wasn’t an accident. He didn’t mean to! But it wasn’t an accident…? It felt like he had just…blacked out! He doesn’t understand! He never had the intention! He just doesn’t want to hurt anyone else!!

It’s hard to self isolate in The Dome. But when things happen, Orpheus tries it anyway. He knows it can’t last long.

Ragnar. Oh he’d work out of SPITE. FUELED BY PURE RAGE HATRED AND ALL THOSE OTHER LOVELY NEGATIVE EMOTIONS. Which of course makes things soooo much worse for him specifically in the long run. Since shard energy loves negative emotion and Ragnar tends to have a lot of trouble controlling it. Maybe that blind anger was what led him to the shard energy. No Akmad what do you MEAN we’re stuck here for all eternity?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE CANT CHANGE IT AT ALL?? WE DIDN’T GET TO CHOOSE THIS LIFE! THATS NOT FAIR. THATS NOT FAIR!!

Lorcan…he was pretty close in terms of overloading on shard energy. It wasn’t as much as Doleon, but he still overdid it sometimes, for the sake of having fun with his cool speedy powers! Except, he knew when to stop. Despite not being the brightest, and not really liking it, he understood that when it hurt him, he needed to rest. Doleon didn’t. He kept going. He didn’t resist it.

So, really, it would be pretty easy to corrupt Lorcan in a hypothetical like this. Maybe it’s his recklessness finally getting the better of him, maybe it’s his more caring side in the midst of a situation, but something intense is what pushes him over the limit. And now he can’t go back. But it’s not even bad!! He feels more energized than ever! So what’s even the big problem, really? He never did like rules anyway, it was all just a bunch of lies…

…Oh no. What did he do. Why did he do that. Why would he do that. How. He doesn’t even remember. What’s happening.

AND KIERAN. GOD. Im imagining a…role swap of sorts? Kind of? Not personality, not appearance, not even their roles as guardians. Just their fates. Between him and Doleon. I imagine Kieran’s main motivation would be the fact that he seems mostly powerless. Mostly useless. He thinks about that a lot…Doleon assures him he is 100% not useless. He just…hasn’t found the right way to harness his powers yet. He will one day! His big bro is sure of it!!

He hears whispers…of how he could have all the power he could ever dream of. How he could truly become something. Doesn’t he want even a liiittle taste of that? It’s so simple too! Dangerous? Now how do you know that? Has anyone tried it before? No, they haven’t. So how would they know?? Just one time..

For the events after, just reverse Kieran and Doleon. Kieran asks Doleon to help him get the other shards from where their brothers protect them. Doleon’s like ooooh okay! I mean if you’re sure it won’t do anything…look at you, all confident! He’s proud! Of course he’ll help! It sounds like it could be fun anyway!

Time passes. Kieran kills his brothers. He can’t kill Doleon though. Doleon lives. At least for now.

Should I make AU’s out of any of these. Anyone want to add onto any of these in some way? Please do if you have ideas I’m very invested in this (/nf)

[oofcat2112]

touch, braid, kiss (IDOLiSH7 - Torao/Minami)

In which Minami lets Torao braid his hair and rewards him with a kiss.

***

Even before he opens his eyes, Minami already knows that he woke up late because his dream last night felt long, though he can’t remember much of it. If he had to guess, it would probably be about flying musical notes since he fell asleep mid-scribbling his musical sheets.

Minami blinks a few times then glances at the clock on his nightstand. Typical. Fifteen minutes until he has to go to the studio for today’s recording. Guess his commitment last night to arrive at least thirty minutes early to get a headstart in preparing everything has failed immensely. Well, no matter, he supposes. He can just purchase a small energy drink on his way to work and that should keep him going until the session ends.

He glances at the stack of papers sitting at his feet, some of the pages scattered on the floor. The most important thing is that he finished his early iteration of ZOOL’s new song, what’s a little lack of sleep? His work of art is much more important. He was particularly inspired last night and sleeping right in the middle of it would be too much of a waste.

Fortunately, Natsume Minami moves quickly. After sitting up, stretching his limbs, and blinking away the leftover sleepiness from his eyes, he shrugs off the weight on his shoulders and gets ready for work. Once he’s finished cleaning up and packing away his things, he doesn’t look like someone who just spent less than two hours sleeping. He looks fresh, sophisticated, and put-together though he can see some parts of his usual getup lacking, like his hair. He’ll have to do those in the studio last minute.

For now, he sprays a healthy and light dose of perfume before finally leaving his apartment.

***

Torao should’ve known.

As he steps into the studio the first thing he sees is Minami nodding off by the loveseat, music sheets loosely held between his fingers. One look and it’s obvious what happened to the young composer.

Truly, it isn’t odd for the composer to be lacking a good night's sleep now and then. (Torao’s pretty sure that he's the only one out of four of them who has a semblance of a normal sleep schedule.) When there’s new music that needs to be written or a part that needs to be revised, Minami will be up and working on them immediately like there’s no tomorrow, often staying up until the crack of dawn just to finetune a single melody.

And…of course, Torao had always liked that part of Minami who loved to dedicate part of his existence to his art. When he was allowed, he always enjoyed the sight of Minami scribbling on a music sheet and humming new tunes, brows furrowed as he focused and lips opening and closing as he muttered parts of his song quietly. Despite the blonde’s calm and gentle disposition, Torao has always known that Minami is passionate. It burns behind a cold protective wall, peeking out from behind through his smile during their performance.

That being said, it also isn’t rare for the composer to doze off when he lets his guard down, like now. Before he completely enters the room, Torao takes a moment to admire the sight of Minami’s innocent face as he sleeps. He knows this by now, but he still can’t get over how beautiful Natsume Minami is and here he thought he’d grown immune to pretty faces like that (Though immunity to Minami is something he hasn’t quite developed yet. He doubts he ever will.)

Torao is careful when he takes a seat next to Minami. The blonde will probably wake up soon now that Torao’s here but he wants to give him just a few extra seconds of shut-eye before switching on his work mode.

“Mido-san?” Minami blinks slowly, his hand coming up to rub the skin just underneath his eyes. “When did you get here?”

“Just a few seconds ago. Looks like you had a good nap.” He teases.

Minami lets out a light amused laugh, unfazed by it. He lets out a small yawn under his palm and finally looks at the other man. Minami’s gaze has always been so languid and a bit cold at times, though they’ve warmed up a lot by now, but the way Minami stares at him has never failed to make his heartbeat race faster.

“Mido-san, you’re blushing.” Minami chuckles sweetly and Torao has to look away now.

A retort makes its way to his throat but dies quickly, replaced with a defeated sigh. He lets his guard down for even half a second and the blonde will snap up the opportunity with that sly nature underneath an angelic smile (Not that he minds too much). 

“By the way, where are the others?”

Torao clears his throat, trying to clean up the mess Minami did to his heart, and opens up his phone. “Touma’s probably on his way. Haruka already got here though.”

“Oh, then I should-” Minami straightens up a bit and cleans up the music sheet in his hands. Torao stops him midway, placing a hand on his forearm. 

“Please. Kujo Tenn is here too so I’m going to bet Haruka won’t be here for another hour.” He rolls his eyes. “Do you think TRIGGER ever gets tired of their greenroom getting hogged by their center as a date spot?”

“I doubt the two care. But what about you, Mido-san? Do you ever get tired of ‘hogging’ our green room alone with me?”

Torao freezes then, becoming painfully aware that Minami has slid his arm so his hand now sits against Torao’s, fingers gently pressing against the skin of his palm like a feather. The touch feels like it could’ve been one of Minami’s teasing but it doesn’t feel exactly like that. There’s a sense of genuineness in them. For as long as Torao has known Minami, he likes to think that he knows the composer at least a little bit. Would it be self-centered to think that Minami wants to genuinely touch him? There’s a stinging realization that he wouldn’t be able to know for sure right away. Nevertheless, the answer is obvious as day.

“No.”

Minami’s lips shift into one of his softer smiles, one that only appears around the people he considers close. Torao wonders. If he manages to enter deeper into Minami’s heart, would he find other smiles? Ones that are reserved just for him.

Their intimate moment ends there. Minami pulls his hand away and it feels like his hand was never there in the first place. They both turn quiet, Minami cleaning up his scattered music sheets while Torao examines the side of his face. There’s one thing he realizes.

“You don’t have your braid.”

Minami’s hand comes up to the side of his hair and sighs. “I was going to do it here. I didn’t have enough time at home.”

“Want me to do it? It’ll be quicker.” Minami raises an eyebrow but decides to indulge his request anyway. He probably finds it amusing that Torao isn’t going to waste an opportunity to touch him, but Torao doesn't care that he's coming across a bit shameless.

Minami’s hair is soft between his fingers, almost like silk, and the strands slip off his fingers easily. Torao runs his fingers through them a few times and braids the side gently, careful not to accidentally pull or tug at the hair. As Torao stays focused on the work at hand, he doesn’t notice Minami closing his eyes, content, in the moment.

“When did you get so good at braiding?”

Torao snorts. As if this is the first time he’s braided Minami’s hair. There have been a few times now when it’s just the two of them alone, where Torao does Minami’s braid for him. It had looked terrible the first time but now he’s gotten quite skillful at it. The end result for this one looks quite good, perhaps his best work so far. 

Minami’s hand comes up to touch Torao’s work and his lips curl into a pleased smile. The composer keeps his lips shut, careful not to let his true feelings be so easily known. Torao doesn’t need to know that Minami thinks the older man’s hands felt nice in his hair. Enough to almost lull him back to sleep. 

He’s not ready to express his feelings just yet, but there’s something he wants to do. He turns to Torao. “Thank you. Mido-san, do you want me to reward you?”

The older man frowns. “Reward? Sure.”

Minami’s smile grows a little mischievous. He’s cute when he looks a little confused like this. He gently places his hand on Torao’s shoulder before raising his face until his lips hover right in front of Torao’s, not quite a kiss. Minami sees his eyes widening slightly at the realization of what he meant by reward. A hand coming to rest on Minami’s waist is the silent consent between them before their lips meet.

It’s neither their first kiss nor is it the first time they’ve kissed each other. Their relationship is a big grey area in their lives, not so much as friends but calling it an official relationship isn’t right either. What Minami does know is that Torao’s lips always feel so warm and sometimes even urgent and maybe even feverish in rare moments. This one isn’t any of those. It feels…sweet.

“Ugh, what the fu-”

Their moment is broken by Haruka’s flabbergasted tone as he stands under the doorway of their greenroom, his face growing completely red. In the hallway, standing in the spot where both Minami and Torao couldn’t see him, Kujo Tenn’s hand reaches to cover Haruka’s eyes.

“I told you not to open the door without knocking,” Tenn says as Haruka slaps his hand away.

Torao is the first to get up between them as he approaches Haruka. “Come back in an hour, you absolute brat.”

“You’re the one who’s making out in our greenroom!”

“Oh, like you don’t do the same with Kujo?”

As they continue to bicker, Torao slowly tries to close the door in Haruka’s face while Minami places his face into his hands, his blush reaching the tips of his ears.

[razorblade180-heated]

How about some NSFW Headcanon for Chongyun and Hu Tao? I am curious how different the cryo's relationship with both pyros are in this area?

This man has nearly mastered the art of being a calm leaf in the storm known as Hu Tao. In all actuality, he learned from both Zhongli and Xiao that Hu Tao has little defense against blatant honesty. While her teasing still gets him to blush, admitting he finds her cute and a joy to be with makes her just as flustered.

Hu Tao will rarely waste an opportunity to hug him from behind and when they’re alone she doesn’t think twice about doing something as bold as using his lap as a seat. Because of this, Chongyun is actually pretty okay at handling the extra body heat in these mild cases.

Chongyun is one of the few people Hu Tao will actually say “be safe” to, and goes as far as to actually reject any coupon he gives her; a consequence of dying and leaving her alone. In earnest, she obviously wouldn’t ignore her responsibilities in the case of the unfortunate, but Hu Tao wholeheartedly would prefer passing on before he did. She tries not to get too vulnerable but it’s as clear as day her affections for the boy mean volumes to her.

Some might mistake them to potentially be betrothed rivals with how they banter, considering pushing each other in their respective fields while also throwing a few jabs about the occupations every once and awhile.

Chongyun wouldn’t calm himself the jealous type but he gets a little in his own head at times; mainly because Hu Tao brings up how adorable she is. As whimsical as she can be though, she’s actually the more possessive of the two. Never in an antagonistic way but even Chongyun can’t help but feel his heart flutter whenever she holds him as if someone plans to steal him away.

In private they’re pretty passionate by nature, and a bit tense. Hu Tao adores teasing the man and provoking him until he shuts her up. He may try to act calm in most circumstances, but Hu Tao won’t let him get by with acting like he’s not slightly obsessed with her as much as she is with him. No need to hold back about it. She invites his Yang energy to flow freely and isn’t shy about letting him know he can take right up to death’s door each time they find themselves enjoying one another.

Chongyun can’t even say he’s embarrassed. Rather he just can’t believe how crazy he can be about her at times. It’s as if the limits between them are so far there doesn’t seem to be any, despite knowing there is. It’s usually after lots of yearning and cathartic passion that a flux of emotions pull them into more tender moments of care and intimacy. “I love you” and “I need you” often gets said over and over again.

Whoever said opposites attract we’re talking about them. Despite the differences, both of them are actually pretty similar; vulnerable people looking to share a true peace of mind experience with someone. Chongyun actually thinks it’s cute how needy Hu Tao can be, and Hu Tao actually pays close attention to Chongyun’s needs. Right down to making sure a window remains partly open at night so he feels comfortable cuddling under the covers.

[asherisawkward]

There are no palismans in the Pokemon world, but there are different held items. Perhaps some of them can replace the palismans for Belos. Maybe Berries? They have quite a lot of effects.

On the other hand, he can possess pokemon and non-pokemon. As long as the Pokemon don't belong to someone, everything will be fine. After all, pokemon eat pokemon, and humans eat pokemon too. Perhaps some Pokemon are healthier for Belos than palismans.

And Luz is constantly making sure that Belos does not steal her palisman egg

Philip spends a couple months making every attempt to steal Luz’s palisman egg from her: making plans, recruiting other Pokémon, coming up with a dozen different escape routes and failsafes. He even knows where he’d run off to after he gets it. Unfortunately, the closest he ever gets is trying to sneak out the door with that thing. He got in a lot of trouble for that one.

After about five months and attempts at least every week, Philip finally admits to himself that it is objectively a waste of effort. With that, he takes his newfound License to Kill (Pokémon) and does what he does best—experimenting.

Luz finds out after there are a couple weeks without a single attempt on her egg. At first she thinks that it’s just a new attempt to lower her guard, so she won’t be prepared. When she sees Phillip actively leaving and going other places often, she sneaks after him and is horrified. Philip has a full blown lab with hundreds of Pokémon, and he’s been sampling each one, recording its abilities and makeup, and reporting the effects of eating it along with how long he stays full. (He’s found that a diet consisting of a mixture of plant-types and water-types is best for him; and he’s keeping Torkoal around to aid with photosynthesis.)

Luz immediately starts reaming him out (how could he do this to those innocent creatures; this is horrific; what the hell could he be thinking) until Philip points out that not only is he considered less than human but both humans and Pokémon eat the latter. It’s not any different than eating pork or beef here. And, what else is he supposed to do? Starve to death? The pair eventually come to an agreement on Philip’s Pokémon consumption, with an agreement that it won’t be cruel or excessive. And Philip’s going to eat like a person, gosh darn it.

After that, Luz becomes the person that people go to whenever there’s a violent or rabid Pokémon that needs to be put down, and she’s well known for her humane methods. Philip is a touch annoyed that he doesn’t get to kill them himself, because the energy he gets decreases sharply upon death, but their deal lets him eat more and more frequently because of that.

The unideal Pokémon for consumption are released, and he spends much more time getting to do human things. That’s not to say that Philip doesn’t continue to experiment when he’s able, but it’s less nutrient based, and he abides (more closely) to human animal care laws after reading up on them. He even reintroduces most of them to the wild after he’s done researching. Luz still shuts it down whenever she finds out, much to his disdain.

[vines-of-ivy]

A thing I’ve found difficult is the realisation that maybe I need to give Muay Thai a real break. An actual planned break. Because I keep stressing about not going when I can’t help the reason I haven’t been consistent this year. It’d be better if I just mentally said nah so I don’t feel guilt for keep telling myself I will go and then not doing it.

My reunion with my old friends was definitely needed. I think that it’s not just that I feel like I don’t get care from people often enough anymore, it’s that weight of the past and believing I spent all those years at uni around people who secretly hated me haunting my mind since I’ve been back in the city. Seeing old friends who I lived with and still adore and see how much they still adore me reminds me that I didn’t spend those years just convincing myself things were better than they were? If that makes any sense.

Those thoughts are probably why I can’t commit to Muay Thai anymore. I saw a Leo Skepi short and he verbalised exactly what it was I’ve been dealing with. Because why do I feel too tired and too busy to do the things I used to enjoy? Why do the easier things in life feel harder than the normal things? It’s because I was in stressful situations for so long and am still very hyperaroused. All the things I’ve had to do on my own since coming back to England - it’s had an effect on me even if it hasn’t been as extreme as it could be for others.

I can’t really ‘remember’ how I used to be when I first met these guys but talking to them brought out the best of my memories. I used to throw myself into everything and push past anything that looked like negative emotions just because I was at uni and I was gonna do everything while I had the chance. I was gonna drink all the booze, make all the friends, join all the clubs and I had massive FOMO about everything. I would cook elaborate meals and experiment while staying keto. I’d spend my time updating my wardrobe because I never had my own money to do it before. I was finally out of my parents’ house and wasn’t going to let my bereavement block my blessings. My uncle would be proud of me adopting his positivity. It kept me fit, involved and very popular.

But since the assault and the way a lot of people reacted toward me in my second year before COVID, I spiralled backwards, stopped showing up to things and gained a bunch of weight because I’d developed, not quite agoraphobia, but being stalked took its toll on my energy and self-assuredness. I never really got to heal from that and get used to being in the real world again because next thing I knew, I was in Japan.

I still haven’t gotten used to cooking for myself like I used to and have wasted to much money on apps because I feel exhausted. But now I can at least make sense of my exhaustion, I can learn what it actually means to prioritise myself again. And when I learn how to do that, I can go back to Muay Thai again and really enjoy it more.

I still love the guys and will go to social things until I feel better but I need to stop punishing myself for not showing up.

Instead of spending energy on things like that, I should go back to the foundation. I’m fat. Focus on losing the weight. I don’t cook anymore. Get back in the kitchen. My room’s always a mess. Put energy into your space. My skin looks bad? It doesn’t but you get the point. Without a solid base, I will fall apart easily.

[klucis]

Conversations with friends

I was going through old notes and found some thoughts I wrote down a year ago after reading and watching Conversations with friends. I don’t remember much of it now, but thought it might still be worthwhile to put these here in case someone stumbles across them and can relate

—————————————————————

I flew through Conversations with friends (the book) in about two evenings and apart from severe irritation at the absence of quotation marks, was fascinated with the characters and their relationships. Since then I have seen tons of people say they couldn’t sympathize with any of the characters and found them insufferable. I understand why, but to me this novel was never about personally relating to what was going on, rather the spectacle of it all.

Then we come to the TV adaptation… I don’t know quite how they managed it, but every single character was done wrong, and as a consequence every relationship felt wrong too. Now that is quite the ‘achievement’ if you ask me. It made me question whether I had misread something in the novel and how the characters came across.

Frances – plain-looking but confident, hiding deep insecurities behind a cool façade. Not this extremely awkward, shy thing like in the show. Don’t get me wrong, I was and often still am the extremely shy girl, which is how I know that this characterisation is not conducive to coming onto a married man. The book Frances was daring but cold as opposed to Bobbi who was a daring social butterfly. On the inside Frances wanted to be taken care of, while also actively trying to convince herself she could do everything on her own. It’s the brazenness of youth when your false sense of invincibility and/or superiority or uniqueness hasn’t been broken down yet.

Bobbi – in the book she was irresistible, which to me invoked a confident and very flirty person that deliberately oversteps some boundaries to ‘stir the pot’. Bobbi too used this persona to hide how uncertain about her future she felt inside. She didn’t let that show.

Melissa – in the book I imagined her to be very feminine and a ‘wifey’/artist type. Interesting and put-together, presenting as nice but has strong opinions, which you can see in her eyes. She cares about appearances and finds people who don’t hustle like herself to be a waste of her time. All that is very straining and exhausting to her and she worries how long she can go on like it, when will the moment come when she will inevitably fail.

Nick – a washed-up actor in short, but in that there is a memory of former success or at least excitement and drive ��� charm or energy he used to have when he first met Melissa and she found him a worthy addition to her life. Then a breaking point – depression, loss of whatever he had that was perceived as interesting and a slow but thorough belief that he doesn’t have it anymore. This was reinforced by Melissa’s affair and firm and obvious belief that Nick was now “pathetic”. Frances, I imagine, in part due to her youth and the way how she liked to disrupt, reminded him of how he used to be, who still saw him like that person or at least allowed for the possibility that he could still be that person. So their moments together was a space for Nick to practice being ‘ok’ and eventually ‘happy’ again.

Nick/Melissa – they used to have something great and they both recognize and value that something, no matter how fucked up things have become. By now it’s a memory at most. She thinks he is pathetic and is genuinely irked by his inability to move into adulthood without breaking down. Because in that state he reminds her of her own fear and how real the possibility of failure and despair truly is. At the same time, she knows it wasn’t always like that and that there is thus a possibility that it won’t always be like that. Nick wants to prove to Melissa that they can go back to whatever they had. That he is not pathetic. But on top of that he really resents her for kicking him when he was already down, for not giving him reassurance that he was going to get through it, for not looking at him as someone worth her time anymore. They keep up appearances. She does it because the fallout of a divorce and the societal failure associated with that does not work. He does it because he is too sad and lacks the energy to figure out what other options there might be. It’s easier to just go with the flow.

Nick/Frances – Melissa was supposedly the more interesting one out of Melissa/Nick, whereas Bobbi was the more interesting one out of Bobbi/Frances. Thus, naturally Nick and Frances already could relate to each other and understand each other’s experience from that perspective. Frances is also younger and prone to romanticizing the people around her, which was a welcome change for Nick whose closest person before Francis (i.e. Melissa) had described him as pathetic. She was a disruptor, a reminder of how he used to be and a hope that he might once again be happy and successful. Frances gets tangled in her own ‘act’, which causes many misunderstandings between the two. On some level the affair is another one of her cold bold acts much like her spoken word performances. Only she can’t really rise above her own feelings either, even if she ignores them.