#but i am omitting text here!!

[kittylittersmoothie]

Quotober #14:

…Yet remembering was futile; the shuddering softshell ... could not remember the last time that he had felt at all— a lapse of memory like a voracious black hole had long ago sucked at all vague sensation of happiness, stretched and wove it into vaporous fiber, and had consumed Donatello whole.

("Purple Patterns: a RotTMNT Fanfiction" on AO3)

[readychilledwine]

2 Truths and a Lie

SJM Villain's Week - Day 3 - Deception

Summary - Having Hunt in his dungeon wasn't enough for his former friend. He wanted to hit him where it would hurt the most.

Warnings - Stealing, lying by omition, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetration, power play, boarding dubcon, manipulation, sir/sub dynamics, choking, dumdification, probably something I am missing

A/n - Happy Day 3 of @sjmvillainweek I, uh, plead the 5th

🗡Villain's Week Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

You were fucked.

Completely and utterly fucked.

You ran faster down the alley, just hoping you could maybe make it inside of a building and fall into a crowd. It wouldn't give you much of a chance, but it would have to be enough of one.

You had no clue what was chasing you, nor who had sent it, but the target on your back had only grown since Hunt disappeared.

You hadn't spoken to your brother in close to 4 years. The only reason you knew he was even still alive was due to whispers of rumors.

Rumors of him and some starborn half fae female.

Rumors of him breaking free of that thorned halo that haunted him.

Rumors he couldn't be bothered To text you or return a call to confirm.

Some brother.

You took a sharp left, sneaking into a shop in the Eternal City before slowing down. You had never been stupid, a rebellious teen turned into a far too street smart female. You quickly snuck a black short dress from a rack slipping into the dressing room undetected. You changed as quickly as you could, forcing jeans down your long legs with a pout.

They were your favorite. But sacrifices had to be made.

Hunt was blessed with lightning. You were blessed with shifting. Your hair went from a dark black to a soft strawberry blonde, freckles appearing as you finished zipping the dress and snuck back out of the fitting room, past the gossiping workers and out the door.

“You aren't as clever as you think you are,” a deep voice fell into step with you. “I can take you somewhere safe.” You glared up at the blonde malakh.

“Pollux,” you said coldly.

“Little viper,” his hands were in his pockets, the rhythmic pattern of you two walking becoming the only noise between The two of you as his left hand slipped to your waist, guiding you wordlessly to the so called safety he was offering.

The apartment building he walked you into was lavish. Columns stood tall to give it a grand feel, a marble floor, a front desk connected to the leasing office. Even the elevator had a guard that just nodded at Pollux as he pressed the button to open the doors before pressing a “P1” button that glowed white.

“Mr. Fancy Pants over here,” you muttered at him. “Pressing a penthouse button.”

Pollux only glanced at you, “You've grown up.” His eyes roamed every inch of you, “How much of this is what you actually look like?”

You shifted your hair back, long dark waves replacing the strawberry blonde, freckles fading. “The rest is me.”

His hum was soft, “Can't say I don't prefer the blonde.” The elevator ticked slower after rushing past floors, a soft ping as each number went by before it slowed down to a surprisingly smooth stop.

You could only scoff as the doors opened and he ushered you inside, “Good thing I do not live to please you, Pollux.”

“Don't you,” he sat, unbothered by the bite in your response, arms flexing. “Live to please me, I mean?”

He smirked as your tongue clicked, the two of you studying each other, mapping out any signs of weakness. He was tense muscle under golden skin, blonde hair, a chiseled face. Physically, you could not find a single thing you didn't find just absolutely stunning. He scratched his stubble lightly, “Not going to respond, little viper? Or perhaps I should call you something different? Snakes don't tend to change their scales, do they?”

“You could call me my name?”

“I could.”

“Where is my brother?”

Pollux paused at that, “You don't know?”

“Clearly not,” your tone was clipped. All your street smart did not necessarily prepare you for the type of male sitting in front of you. The kind that so easily leaned his elbows on his knees, thighs slightly spread as he began to watch you.

“Your brother is with the asteri. In the dungeon,” the answer was vague, but it fell into line with what you last truly knew about Hunt and his job. “He was tied up at the moment. He sent me as soon as we received information you were being chased down.”

You only nodded, hugging yourself slightly,

“I heard rumors of him with some girl-”

Pollux moved to you, your chin in his hand, “That are just rumors. He had a play thing for a bit. That's where that came from.”

“He never answers my calls?”

“He's busy,” Pollux moved his hand from your chin to the strands of hair hanging in your shoulder. “You are such a pretty little thing, you know that?”

He was far too close to yours, his face angled perfectly. Teenage you, the one who dreamed of hooking up with Hunt's friends out of spite, she was screaming.

“I have other qualities,” your voice was weaker than intended.

“I don't really care about those right now.”

You didn't have time to breathe before he was on you. The battle for dominance was useless for you. He manhandled you with ease, a hand on the back of your neck holding you exactly where Pollux wanted. His lips tasted like methol, be it from cigarettes or tooth paste you weren't sure.

Pollux was intoxicating. The air of danger that surrounded the Hammer was no lost on you. This male, this powerful being was one of the favored malakh. A male so few got away with fucking with. And right now, he was yours.

He lifted you with practiced ease, moving you to another room without breaking the messy kiss he had you in. Her dropped you unceremoniously on the bed ripping his own shirt. Before you could even move to touch him, he had both of your wrists in on hand, forcing you down and laying them above your head, “They stay here.” The tone of his voice would stay with you, that deep baritone aching in your bones. “You don't move until I say you can, do you understand.”

“Yes, sir,” his gaze shot to your face at your response, a brow raising as he smirked.

“Well, you have one trait over your brother.” The stolen dress was ripped off of you, cheap fabric easily splitting in two. “Obedience.”

Pollux was never above lying to get what he wanted, and what he wanted right now was you. Be if for vengeance, for another way to hurt Hunt, or just his own selfish greed to claim and dominate beautiful things.

He knew if you had known where Hunt truly was, his hands wouldn't be exploring every dip and curve of your body. He wouldn't be mapping each scar and freckle like he was discovering new land. No. He'd be very much missing this opportunity with you. He'd lie to his own grave for this.

Fucking the sister of his traitor friend?

Priceless.

Pollux gently squeezed your breasts, “You're going to be the best girl for me, aren't you? Listen well and do as I say?”

Your eyes had started to get the hazy unfocused look, lips slightly parted as you nodded and looked at him. Heat had settled deep into your body, flowing through your veins like liquid fire. That feeling was becoming a drug. One you'd so rarely felt, but he was bringing out of you so easily.

Pollux began to kiss your jawline, memorizing every noise, every sensitive spot. He'd whisper them in your brother's ear later, brag to him about how he bit the spot just below your ear and you gasped for him, back arching like a desperate whore as he toyed with you. He would mark every inch of you, ripping at tender flesh on your neck until it bruised.

Each motion put your scent on him, his on you.

His kissed went lower, licking your collarbones before nipping the left the the right. His tongue licking down your chest until he reached his first destination. Pollux held eye contact with you as he licked the first sensitive bud, sucking your right nipple until it formed a perfect peak in his mouth. Once he was satisfied there, he switched sides, drinking in the noises you made for him as chills went through your body.

“Sensitive little thing,” he whispered the words into your skin, voice deep with his own lust. “You like when I kiss your body, princess?”

“Yes sir,” it was more of a moan than words, one slightly pained as he bit your side, flicking his tongue to soothe the mark he'd left on your ribcage.

His journey down your body didn't stop until your thighs sat over his wide shoulders, “Let's see if you taste as sweet as you're acting.” Torture. It was torture as his tongue dragged through you, licking at your most sensitive place. Pollux considered eating pussy an art form. One he so rarely treated Lidia to, but you, you he would savor. Licking every inch of you until he had his fill. Your clit, your entrance, you so frequently ignored labia. Pollux treated tasting you like he had paid for a 5 star meal. It had your toes curling as he moaned against you, your body arching.

That tightness you knew all too well began to settle In your stomach as he threw his forearm over your hips, stopping you from moving. He caught you whispering his name, the sound of it making him feel as if he were a god. One finger pushed into you, curling up to find your spot as he began running figure 8s with his tongue up and down your clit.

You were not silent when you unexpectedly came. You were a tidal wave, a silent scream falling into whimpers as he praised you through your high, his thumb and finger working at you bringing you down gently as he prepared you for his aching cock.

He couldn't get his pants off fast enough for either of you, regretting his choice to leave them on. He'd never felt this anxious during sex before. He was a confident male, cocky even. But you clearly saw why once he was bare. He gave you a look when your wrists moved, a silent warning of his earlier command. “What did I say?”

“They stay above my head, sir.” He followed your line of sight, smirked as he realized that your eyes were in him, hungry and waiting.

“That's my Good Girl,” he settled between your thighs, one leg being forced around his waist while the other went over his shoulder. “Breathe for me,” he wasn't gentle once he knew he was lined up. He entered you in one movement, watching as your eyes squeezed shut another scream tumbling from your lips as his heavy length filled every inch of you.

He was kind enough to give you a moment to breathe and adjust before one roll of his hips became another then another. The pace increased more and more as you laid there helpless to do anything but let him take and take, pulling you apart at the seams. He was shameless in this mission, his sole goal now to make your warm walls flutter around him. His hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him, “You watch me when I fuck you. Got it?” He smirked at your wordlessly nodding, the moans falling from your lips as he held your face there before moving that grip to your throat.

Pollux was electrical. He was magnetic. He was a force of nature, a storm you should have been afraid of, but here you were, below him, calling him sir as he overpowered you. The hand not holding your throat held your hip, forcing you to meet every movement he made, rougher and harder with each passing second.

You'd never last like this, not with the sight of his wings flaring behind him, feeling like some form of damnation instead of the salvation they were believed to represent. And Pollux knew. He could feel your body's response, feel you hugging him tighter, your walls beginning to twitch. He saw the moment your brain shut off, the moment he made you go cock dumb.

He decided then and there he would not kill you.

You were of no use to him dead.

This apartment was his, he would keep you here. Alive, aching, yearning. His new favorite toy.

“Please sir, may I come?” And those 5 words sealed that fate.

“You may, princess.” Pollux watched as you fell apart for him. He watched and counted each rule you broke. Hands moving you grip the wrist squeezing your throat. 2 spankings he'd give you later, swearing. Another spanking. Not thanking him. Another.

He counted each of those things again as he shut off the light, leaving you sleeping in his bed as he redressed without shower. The ride down to the dungeon felt like it was taking far too long, his smirk growing as he entered the room Hunt, Ruhn, and Baxian were hung up in. Pollux simply walked close to Hunt saying nothing as the shell of the Umbra Mortis sniffed him, his face falling farther as he did.

“Don't fucking touch her!”

“Already did,” Pollux replied smoothly as Athalar pulled on his chains, a new fire in him. “And I will again.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for knowingly having a sex repulsed person view very graphic pornography?

This one might be uncomfortable to read so CW for mentions of adult content and stalking, omitting graphic details where I can. I (24m) am currently being stalked by someone (22x) I had a falling out with about a year ago. I'd rather not go into the details here, but part of the stalking includes that I've gotten a heads up that they have recently uncovered and have been routinely checking on one of my social media accounts (not tumblr) against my permission and wishes. This account is an 18+ account, and without getting too graphic I do post lewd content on it. I only have a small number of followers (20-something) who are almost all mutuals. Due to the enshittification of the platform, remaking my account or rebranding my account is risky, and I'm not able to private it the way I currently use it.

Most of the people in my circle on this platform post incredibly graphic irl kink content, usually involving very niche/unsanitary/seemingly-dangerous/or physically intense scenes. I really haven't, keeping most of my posts to just text or artwork, just because I prefer keeping my account low key, but it really wouldn't be out of place for me to share this kind of more graphic irl content and it wouldn't impact my actual followers if I did. I know my stalker is extremely sex repulsed, but clearly they have been powering through with the stuff I have been posting. I'm pretty sure if I started posting more graphic shit though, it would be like giving toxic sour candy to a medieval peasant. I'm sure if I did, they would leave that account the fuck alone, or at the very least it would be extremely painful for them to keep tabs on it. It's giving me a bit of a moral dilemma though. I'm not opposed to posting more graphic content, but in this case I would really only be doing it to "get back" at my stalker... And knowing that doing this could send them into a really bad panic attack or mental breakdown has be hesitant if it would make me the asshole.

[skaldish]

have you any adaptations of norse myth as complete as the eddas but in a more accessible format? or a modernized english translation? ive tried reading the eddas a few times but struggle with the archaic language so i prefer other texts, including those on your site, but they all focus (understandably) on the more well-known stories while only briefly mentioning others. they solve the antiquity of the eddas but in the process omit lots of gems! am i chasing unicorns here?

It's out-of-print, but I generally recommend d'Aulaires' Book of Norse Myths for a first-time read.

It's a children's book, so the authors gloss over a few of the cruder things (such as Loki tying his balls to the beard of a goat to make Skadi laugh), but the way they've chosen to adapt these oral stories into a linear book-format is nothing short of brilliant. They've woven a shocking amount of extant and historically-attested tales within the book, and being that it's a children's book, everything is very easy to read and understand.

They objectively did a spectacular job with how they organized everything. I think it helped that Ingri d'Aulaire was Norwegian and grew up with the oral tradition. It's clear to me that she didn't need to rely on how these tales are formatted in the old Icelandic sagas; she knew how to restructure them while still conveying the same information.

One thing to note about this book, though, is that it's not designed to give you the same experience you'd have with the oral tradition, nor is it intended to fulfill the same anthropological function. Its purpose is just to share the cultural stories. But the fact it's extraordinarily successful at fulfilling this purpose is why it's my go-to recommended retelling at this point in time.

[hellsite-proteins]

Hi!

the goal of this blog is to use the strings of letters from text posts matching proteinogenic amino acids into 3D structures using AlphaFold. i am not affiliated with AlphaFold in any way, just using it to create and share some neat images. the idea for this was heavily inspired by @hellsitegenetics .

to make these, i will be removing any letters not matching proteinogenic amino acids, as well as any other characters, and plugging the resulting sequence into AlphaFold. while i tried in some early posts, unusual amino acids unfortunately do not work in my structures. therefore, B, J, O, U, X and Z will all be omitted. in the final image i will usually only be showing the cartoon and hide the surface and side chains, for the sake of making a somewhat more pleasant image. i now use ChimeraX to open and show structures. they may not always be accurate depending on the string of letters, so unless i say anything else, assume that none of it is reliable!

please send me any posts you want to see made into structures :) i can't promise i'll answer fast but i will do my best

some of the more popular protein memes:

never gonna give you up, leitner rant, bee movie intro, spiders georg, ihnmaims hate, man door hand hook car door

here are some tags i tend to use to categorize things:

#protein asks for inbox submissions

#protein memes and #protein songs for memes and songs

#protein info if i'm answering science questions or explaining things

[lex9923]

Tw// SA

This will be my one and only official statement on this situation, because frankly I’m done with all of this mental hopscotch happening.

I am a sexual assault victim. I was the same age as Caiti is now when it happened, and I was cornered with his hands down my pants touching my vagina and up my shirt touching my boobs, while I tried to get away and make it stop. I still to this day don’t know who my attacker was, but it will follow me for the rest of my life. It’s been five years since then, and my story has not changed once. Not ever. I hadn’t told people for a couple years cause I thought since I didn’t know who my attacker was, I wouldn’t be believed. As well as the fact that I came forward about a sexual harassment I faced at a job and was met with “well, boys will be boys”. Through it all, I am here, and I survived.

Watching the reaction to this situation from both of the main parties involved, those who weren’t there, those who were, and the fans had sent me spiraling. I’ve spent the past two weeks reliving that trauma from five years ago cause I thought I misinterpreted my assault as something else. I had not, and never have. It’s been incredibly invalidating watching the alleged “victim” change the story multiple times, make fake texts, omit important information, all while not even listening to the person she accused of a criminally offensive act.

Caiti is absolutely allowed to feel uncomfortable and regret what happened after the fact, but it is not, and will not ever be assault-unless George actually did touch her boobs, and then that will be a different discussion, but with her credibility disappearing, I’ll only believe it if he admits it himself. I’m trying to extend grace to her being young, sexually inexperienced, and caught up in online culture, but it’s hard the longer this gets dragged out. There are things you do when approaching a situation like this:

1. You absolutely need to provide evidence and proof of your claims. You can’t prove something that never happened, but you can prove something that did. It’s why it’s innocent until proven guilty. Expecting people to blindly believe you is delusional at worst and ignorant at best.

2. You must absolutely have your story 100% correct and factual to how you perceived what happened, before bringing forth any accusations. Using purposefully charged language and then changing the story to match the one you accused is not it. Nor is changing your story yet again when people are catching on to the inconsistencies.

3. Allow the accused person to defend themself. You can’t expect people to listen to all of your claims-most of them blindly doing so-and then get upset when people wait for both sides to say their piece, especially when you present no evidence at your initial statement. Again, you have to prove guilt. If you can’t prove it, the accused are allowed to defend themself.

4. You are in no way obligated to accept apologies, but acknowledging one was made-multiple times in fact- is the bare minimum. Trying to change your story one last time to make it seem even worse than what you both agreed upon, and then hiding behind “I’m not going to address this anymore” is manipulative at worst and cowardly at best.

I hope Caiti gets therapy, cause it’s clear she’s been severely affected by something, though I’m not sure she even knows what it is. I also hope she learns from this, and next time utilizes the “direct message” function every single app has. This could have been a dm, and the way it spiraled has been a shitshow and her intentions are coming off less and less pure the more this gets dragged out. I’m so sorry she was uncomfortable, and regretful, but until she shows any proof whatsoever of any assault happening, it will never be. I hope she heals, and I hope she gets better friends cause they have all failed her.

For George, I’m sorry this got blown so out of proportion and no one even privately talked to him about any uncomfortability being felt. I’m sorry his friends are performative. I’m hopeful that he was made aware of things he wasn’t before, and will do better next time. He is not irredeemable, and I believe growth is possible (the difference in his two responses proves as such). I hope this isn’t the last we see of him or his content, and I hope he can heal from this as well.

To my fellow SA survivors, I’m so incredibly sorry that our trauma has been thrown around like this. Our hurt and pain do not deserve to be mocked in this way, and I wish it would’ve never even happened. You’re stronger than what happened, regardless of how shitty this situation has been for us. And as a 24 year old, I like to consider myself a big sister of sorts, so I love all of you. We got through it then, we’ll do it again.

Speaking woman to woman, I’m sorry this has been so messed up. This will make it harder for us to come forward in the future and that is indescribably frustrating. However, that does not take away from the pain and hurt we went through, and I hope if you do have the strength to come forward, you are believed.

I’m done with this whole situation. It should not have come to this point, and if you stayed this far, I greatly appreciate you reading this. One last time. Caiti, I’m sorry you were so uncomfortable. Get therapy, better friends, and take a break from the internet. George, I hope you learn from this situation, and I’m sorry you were made out to be a criminally offensive person before giving your side or anyone ever speaking to you.

I hope you both heal.

I hope sexual assault victims having to relive trauma, and are affected by this continue to heal.

I love you all.

Lex

[keepthisholykiss]

The results from my Dracula Daily survey are in! Just like with my Hamlet survey in the past, these are the highlights of data that I found from the survey. Folks shared valuable insights that are soon to be shared with the purpose of advocating for further free education resources like these. The data in these graphics is not all the data received but that is because I never share 100% of results, only the interesting parts. This is also probably my final survey I will do like this unless there is desire for me to do more research, if you have a topic you’d like me to cover send me an ask! Otherwise I will be working on my child, my magnum opus, my future PhD dissertation.

Onto the post mortem thoughts and alt text which are both under the fold!

This survey was originally done with the purpose of a specific conference I was to attend and share my thoughts on accessible education with. However that conference was, ironically, incredibly inaccessible. I am a queer disabled scholar and I face a lot of challenges in academia so making my case for why educational resources like Dracula Daily should be promoted within academia is very important to me. Unfortunately my original plans for this research could not happen due to my having to pull out of the conference. Now this data is being shared with a new and much more accessible conference, so at least I can still have use it for its original purpose!

Also of note is that this survey, unlike work I have done in the past, received some really nasty responses. Specifically terfs (idk why they wrote gross stuff in my survey answers though) and people who wanted to belittle the way or the content of what I was researching. This is not okay. I want to reiterate that I am a queer, disabled scholar who has zero tolerance for some of the responses I received. Studying fandom is never fully free of this but I want to hold people accountable always for the way people are treated within a community. My studies of online community are basically done (because I am moving onto my PhD work which does not involve the same research) but if I come back to doing it I will be implementing other methods to avoid the way I was treated. Regardless of the bad eggs and struggles I have with most all of academia this was fun. I appreciate everyone who participated and thank you for the feedback. Please enjoy these results!

ALT TEXT:

Slide one: Dracula Daily survey results Slide two: About the survey -  A survey was conducted to gather data from fans of Dracula Daily to gain insight on accessible education and fandom. The survey received 863 responses these are the data highlights. Slide three: Disclaimer - The data presented here is a summary of information and highlighted portions of responses. This is not all of the data and the entirety will never be released. Also some responses were omitted from final numbers due to abusive language entered into the survey toward the researcher. Slide four: Before Dracula Daily - 62%  of respondents had not read Dracula before Dracula Daily.  More than 50% of respondents answered that they had been avid readers at some point in their lives. Slide five: 85%  of respondents noted that they had consumed other gothic or vampire media prior to Dracula Daily. Slide six: Finishing the story - 66%  of respondents finished Dracula Daily. 15.7% plan to finish. Slide seven:  92% of respondents said Dracula Daily improved their understanding of Dracula and/or classic literature Slide eight: Stopping short -  The majority of those who responded that they did not finish stopped reading sometime in October.  The top reason for not finishing was: lack of motivation. Slide nine: Let’s Talk About It - 82%  of respondents talked about Dracula Daily online, in person, or both. Over 50%  cited memes as their favorite part of participating. Slide ten: One More Chapter -  Many respondents indicated their desire to read more books in this format, the titles with the most interest were: Sherlock Holmes, Jane Austen, Phantom of the Opera, and Les Miserables

[shitouttabuck]

fuck it friday

tagged by @eddiebabygirldiaz and @rewritetheending <3

i have not written a word in Months but i found the start of this prompt fill on my desktop and i cant for the life of me remember the plot i meant to write

“It’s not a big enough deal to call a TaskRabbit, or an actual, you know, plumber,” Eddie’s telling Chim as he wriggles into his jeans, soft morning light dancing over his face through the locker room glass. “And I’ve watched a million YouTube videos, and everyone online says it’s basically impossible to fuck up. I’ve just never done it myself before.” Buck knows the extra meat in the middle of this story that Eddie’s generously allowed his own self-preservation to omit: hardware store Marisol who ended up fixing Eddie’s sink and the squeaky back door and then gently telling Eddie he was very nice but they’d been taking it slow and trying at this for a while and they still don’t actually have a single thing in common or that magic spark, so to text her if he needed a hand with home reno—she’s happy to repay a favour—but as far as dating went, she didn’t see much more for them. That was, with timing only a horror-comedy could love, just hours before she dropped by the Diaz house to pick up the rest of her things, only to find Eddie on the porch with his tongue down the throat of a woman who was decidedly not her and traumatizingly like the many photographs of his dead wife framed around the residence. Buck can’t really say he blames her in the slightest for what followed, and what followed included grabbing a hammer from her passenger seat—Buck can appreciate a well-prepared woman—and unfixing everything she had repaired in the Diaz house, loudly, violently, and with scathing commentary on the kind of boyfriend and person Eddie Diaz is. And listen, Buck’s not unbiased here. He loves Eddie, everyway and everywhen, ugly, cruel mistakes and all. He loves him because and sometimes despite, and he knows his disappointment was a distant second to the worry and the unconditional support when Eddie’d relayed it all to him later that night, fresh out of two separate dumpings and brimming with guilt and confusion and this loss that must’ve just been another gut-punch in having some version of Shannon taken from him again.

if i can remember what i wanted to write for this prompt, yay, and if not, i am in the brainstorm-outlining stages of a twisters au lmao

tagging oh my god i havent done this in forever who do i tag @onward--upward @chronicowboy @try-set-me-on-fire @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @doeeyeseddie if you fancy!!!

[keelt9]

Chapter 5

Masterlist

“Could…Could you at least keep your location on?” Mía is at the verge of frustration, but I try to keep it calm. The last thing she told me, probably helps her to realize what it feels like to be an older one.

That happens 20 minutes after I start my animated discussion with the big guy. He is right but I am asking for an act of mercy.

“Miss, I’m sorry, but…” I’m already red with desperation.

“Sir, please, please, just once, call her and she will know what to do!” Thankfully there wasn’t anyone nearby, one more time I arrived extremely late.

“Lad…” His new rejection pulled my last attempt. I didn't travel for more than 7 hours as I heard my little sister complain about my squandering without even telling her a reasonable reason.

I close my eyes and beg with my hands. “Sir, just one time, anyone in the paddock, I’m really, really, playing something huge here, I’m not lying to say this can cost me… more than I’m imagining right now.” 

“You should think before spended it.” I open my eyes, my hands still sticking together.

“I’m not talking about money.”

I don’t know if it was the conviction in my voice or a miracle, but he grabs his radio and calls for Violet of the media team in Red Bull. I don’t have anything more to do just sit on the ground hoping for the second part of the miracle.

“Do you want me to call for a paramedic?” I didn't get it at first but then I remember I have a red kinesiology tape from my shoulder up to the back of my neck; Anton put it on me before “send me home” for rest.

“Oh, no I’m fine, I already take my painkillers.” It’s not for causing pity, it’s the truth.

“You came here not knowing if you even will enter; correct me if I’m wrong, with a neck injury?” Now he wants to talk.

“Shoulder injury, and yeah, I take the risk. “ He bluffs looking at me like the first time I stand in front of him, with incredulity. “Because it's totally worth it.”

“OMG Y/N, what are you doing here?” Violet appears breathless as she takes out her cellphone looking for something. “Please don’t tell me Max was waiting for you?” 

I chuckle probably the last time Max wasn’t that happy that no one could find me. “Oh no, no, it’s the opposite.” 

“It’s ok, she can come in, I’ll give her a pass.” The big guy nodded and opened the door for me to get inside.

“Hey, girl!” He screams when we start to walk, this time in his eyes I see acknowledgement. “Take care of that shoulder, all right?” 

I told Violet my journey, my spontaneous plan, my arriving here without warning and my almost useless attempt to contact her without having a clue of her full name, and my new friend. I omit the fact I haven't replay any of the texts from Max since Saturday morning, and the missing calls.

“OH! I see, I see, I can help you with that.” Violet walked with me to the stands, where family and friends of the pilots could see the race without problem. 

The experience was probably what Max expected I got through when he invited me to Silverston. I was able to see the race really close; with 10 laps remaining, I stood and walked back to a similar room where Max gave me the T-Shirt. Max celebate like nothing happened. I watch all the ceremony from the T.V in the room, waiting twisting my fingers in my hands.

“How could you not know where I left it?” I hear clearly angry Max. “I left it next to the bottle.” I walked slowly standing in the corner next to the entrance where he couldn’t see me so easily.

“We’ll look for it Max, take it easy.” They are coming closer.

“Or I could go and do it myself, I bet the person inside can wait a couple of minutes.” I imagine him with lethal eyes in his face.

“I don’t think the person inside is the person you want to make her wait.” This time I recognized Violet's voice. “Lisent Max, go and then you can look for your cell phone, for christ sake.” She’s clearly done with him.

He enters head down and moves it side to side, annoying but obedient like a few times; he switches his mood to a polite one but when he doesn't see anyone he opens his arms and lets it fall with a hard sound. No one else follows him.

“See, no one, now if you let me…” He speaks as he turns but in the middle of it, he sees me smiling big at him.

We both walk faster, he hugs me, both of his arms around my neck, the last thing I saw before closing my eyes is a wide open smile on his face.

“OMG! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” He speaks as he buried his face on my neck, I rub his back as I giggle, I never get used to this comfy sensation.

“Surprise.” He splits and touches softly with his fingers my chin, where probably the scar that forms the bowstring stains in a line, red wine color.

“Why…where…how do you get in here?” He asked me as pull me closer.

“You must give me credit for this, please, it wasn't easy, at all.” I grab his cap which is about to fall from his head.

“For sure. This is great, amazing… You are amazing, still do you know how nervous I was for not replying to any of my texts or calls?” I hear his question as he splits, rushing his words. I give him a peck on his cheek, like he said I recharge him.

This time he blushes, a red pop of color in his face.

We start to talk, he quickly understands I really don’t want to talk about how the examination goes so he keeps explaining to me things I still don’t understand from the race, but when we reach the garage I see media people from Red Bull quickly surround him.

The mere fact of flashes and voices whispering out loud causes a flashback in my mind. The incessant questions, just predicting the worst scenarios, others remember I’m leaving my team in the middle of a huge competition, didn't leave me breath. 

I feel a cold sweat, the need to run away appears one more time. “I’ll see you later all right?” 

Max knew that stopping a girl in the garage surrounded by cameras and reporters giving something to talk about is the last thing we need; so he nodded and walked where GP is talking with Christian, still I know that conflicted eyes.

I see Violet talking far away from the cameras with other girls, before I leave I need to thank her “Thanks Violet.” I hugged her and she did the same. 

“Any time Y/N now you have my phone for anything you need.” I assent and walk with one thing in mind, leave.

My steps were automatic as I reached the exit texting Mia; I’ll spend the night here and I will take a plane back home tomorrow morning. 

“Go back home safe, girl!” The big guy screams when he sees me walking through the door, I smile at him and wave my hand. I definitely made a new friend.

In the hotel I heard all the telling from Mia, even though I hate to admit she is right, I act reckless after a big meeting.

Mia takes a deep breath and calms her down. “And now you are in the hotel alone, that’s what makes me more angry, who think he is?” I already told her all the story. If I want peace, this is the kind of things I hope she understands.

“Oh come on Mia! I came here without a heads up, I knew he would have tons of things to do.” Through a video call it is clear to see her exasperation. “Besides, I’m the one who ran away.”

Literally.

“Whatever. Make sure to get home safe ok?” Even after her anger Mia moves me with her corner.

“I’ll do it mom” Mia laughs and wishes me good night. 

I replay the last text of Max apologizing for not being able to have dinner with me, but he already has scheduled a dinner with Charles and Lando; after that I fell asleep so quickly that the only thing that woke me up was my alarm, buzzing on my hand.

I reserve my flight as the first thing in the morning, I grab the bag I pack and run out of the room, no bother in reading the message I have. 

Thankfully Anton is already rescheduled for Tuesday morning, that means I have a free Monday, giving time to do my weekend activities, go to the grocery store, keep me updated with my morning runs and cleaning the apartment.  

Max told me he will make up with me, as soon as he arrives in Milton Keynes and I keep saying it’s ok, I saw him, that was the main point of my little travel.

A week later, Monday morning starts with a run through the hallways when I see Anton’s text telling me we will be working in the space he arranged when the coaches came. But when I enter a strong boom and color papers fly in front of me, scare me.

“OH SHIT!” I dropped my phone, I heard the sound of familiar laughs that made my heart beat like crazy.

I see them, Olivia, Charlotte, and Rachel, my team with party hats and Olivia holding a cake, counting until 3 and starting to sing “Happy birthday.” 

“OMG! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?! In a single hug I practically forced Liam to catch the cake in the air. 

“What do you mean? Happy birthday!” Charlotte says still sticking to my side. She is the youngest of the team, she resembles Mia a lot. 

“Well, getting ahead a couple of days before your birthday.” Oliva, the team leader and the older of us, corrected her. She was right, my birthday will be in a week.

“Oh, but that’s not all.” Rachel, the brave girl who stepped up when I got injured a year ago, covers my eyes and turns me around. 

“Tadaaa!!” They scream as she removes her hands.

“THERE IS NOT FUCKING WAY!” I scream as I run where Matthew is waiting for me with open arms, he carefully holds me arms around my waist, shaking me from side to side, an old habit we had.

Matthew is my best friend and my partner in all the duplet competitions, we met when we were 7 years old in our first days of training in a more professional way, the bond we made was quick and became stronger year by year. Marie Anne calls us the gold coins, I can proudly say in all these years we have a modest amount of 10 gold medals as a team.

“LOOK AT YOU!” We walk back to reunite with the girls. “You look amazing!” He passed his arms around my shoulder pulling me closer. 

“I’m amazing.” It’s incredible having them here, it feels like being at home one more time.

They explained to me, they made a quick stop before going to Antalya for the competition, and they refused to let me pass my birthday alone. After my face was covered with chocolate from the cake and we sat down to eat, I introduced them properly to Anton, bragging a little bit about our achievements. After a while Liam and Anton offer to go and buy something to eat, leaving us alone for a while. 

That gave me time to explain what the coaches told me. Robert recognised my technique and my pression but his concern about the resistance on my shoulder in the long term. Marie Anne, who is actually Matt’s coach, told me it’s a notorious recovery still she is unsure a year is enough time for avoiding a reinjury. Will has two petitions, he needs my shoulder to be stronger and keep in physiotherapy at least 3 months more and they come for evaluating me, one more time.

“We imagined that from Will but that was a little bit harsh from Marie Anne.” Charlotte says, taking a sip of her bottle.

“I’ll give you 2.” Olivia said, patting my head. “In two months you will get that.” 

Liam and Anton arrive a couple of minutes later with some sandwiches and sodas. “Don’t tell your coaches I’m giving you these.” Liam laughing clearly for me didn't mean a problem but they will have a competition in 3 days.

“Please kids, go and wash your hands.” Anton says as he searches for cups. 

The team told us they will leave tomorrow night, that gives us a whole day. They give me full attention, and help me to practice some shoots. They mentioned things I wasn't doing right either because I let it pass or I'm still unsure of my shoulder. Anton and Liam let us go early with a new surprise; Charlotte already has scheduled a dinner in a nice restaurant. 

In the dinner we spoke about the training, funny moments, how good some teams are this year and the challenge that represents for Rachel switching Compound Arch for Recurved Arch. One more time I feel part of a world I love.

Early in the morning they insisted on making breakfast, just they didn't know I usually don't have breakfast at home so I ran out of morning supplies. “Ok, ok, I'll go with you.” Matt and I were walking to the nearest store, 8 blocks away.

“Max was great, I mean running in his home must be exciting” He distracted me on purpose because I didn't notice those words until I answered.

“You have no idea, still the weather was kind of tricky.” My words came naturally as I opened a bag of bread. “Fuck!”

Matt makes my arm tingle in his arm. “Yeah, I see you.” The panic on my expression made him continue. “Don't worry, no one else knows that, I’ll see you in one of the many photos a random person takes.” 

Matthew used to date a girl who is a huge fan of F1. “I thought you already got over that phase.” They broke up 9 months ago.

“You're turning this to me, clever girl.” As we walk he lends his head over mine. “Just be careful, ok? Next year we'll have a big target to hit, don't feel pressured, but…” 

I feel his breathing going slowly. “We need you there, I mean I can carry this federation on my own.”

That makes me laugh. “Ok I get it, I get it.” Slowly I open the new jar of Nutella we just bought. “He is number one too, believe me, I’m focused on being just with the best.” I covered his nose with chocolate and ran back home.

As they say, they left at night, not before Liam at the request of their coaches put them through a hard training, he said, they’ll be able to sleep like babies in the plane. 

“Take care ok?” Olivia hugs me so tight, but carefully not pressing my shoulder too much. “We came back and got you out here, promise.” I nod and the younger girls do the same.

“Love you. Don’t take my words the wrong way, I’m just worried.” Matt kissed the top of my head. 

After we saw the plane lifting from the ground Liam took me home so I can rest, he said; I quote. <Big changes tomorrow.>

I totally forgot my last text to Max was yesterday at night, he must be busy because he didn’t even read it. 

<That’s great honey! Rest, love you!> I can hear the excitement of dad after Liam sent him the video of me practicing some shots, almost perfectly.

At the hour Max and I usually talk I prepare for calling him when someone knocks the door, twice.

“You forget the ke…” I open the door thinkin Liam was at the other side but the soft light of a candle in a dark hallway calls my attention.

“Happy birthday.” I raise my sight from the small cupcake.

“Amm, thanks but…” I barely can contain my smile. “It’s not my birthday.” 

Max now was clearly speechless. “What? But…but… I see the cake, the hugs and kisses.”

“Oh.” He rushes to his answer. 

“I mean, I was passing by and it’s almost impossible not to see the flying color papers, the big letters, the cake, strange persons, a guy kissing you.” He is so cute.

“I already told you about Matty.” He bluffs, rolling his eyes. 

“Matty?! Yeah you talked about Matthew.” I am fighting for the urge to touch him.

“Are you mad or are you jealous?” He opened his eyes round as plate while I take the cupcake, blowing out the candle, or the wax will burn his fingers

“What, what? Why… Wh…Why I be?” He’s a shuttering. He is jealous, it’s funny how much this buzz could make me feel happy, maybe, just maybe he felt the same as I feel for him. 

“Let me think for more than a second.” I bite the cupcake, red velvet, my favorite. 

I’m lost one more time in his words, this time I couldn't avoid laughing. “Max, what are you talking about?” 

“OF COURSE I’M JEALOUS! Come on! Your teammates come out of the blue, and yeah, I get, it is or it will be or it was your birthday and he even gets you to laugh like that, looking so happy, I feel so so so… watching from far away .” He didn’t even realize but he just caged both of his hands at the side of head. 

I’m trapped inside the apartment, against the wall. Max is so close to me.

I grip his jacket and pull him to press my lips against his cheek. “You make me feel like my birthday is every day, you don't need to know the specific date to make me feel, and laugh like that.” He can splits still he keeps his face a few cm of my face, I smile at him. 

Suddenly he lost his words. “You stain us with whipped cream.” He looks and smiles shyly, letting down his head, carefully resting on my shoulder, both of us laughing.

“Now could I move, go and prepare something for dinner, I’m hungry.” He smiles and lets down his arms.

“I’ll order something.” He took out his cellphone clearly embarrassed for his lack of control a few seconds ago. This time I stand on my tip toes, kissing the corner of his lips. 

The cherry color in his face turns strawberry pink and that blue eye gives the perfect contrast.

[hyunfilms]

blue side of the sky (lmh) | eighteen.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: waking up after 3 months with no recollection of your past, your friends do what they can to help you remember. except, they omit an important piece to the puzzle - afraid you would remember the heartbreak and hurt all over again.

—pairing: lee know x f. reader

—genre: (18+) exes to lovers, bestfriends to lovers au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3.3k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, heart to heart with jisung, flashback scene which also includes a heart to heart with jisung, pachi just tries to keep it real for his bestfriends

A few weeks have passed, maybe close to a month or so, and you haven't really spoken to Jisung. You have, but it was clear that he was respecting your space and preventing himself from being too overbearing. You're glad the message came across your friends clearly; however, today, you find yourself missing your bestfriend and eager to talk to him.

You believe you're ready to face Jisung.

"Mrs. Pak, I'm just going to take a call outside. I'll be right back." 

"Of course. Take your time, sweetheart." She smiles just as you step outside the back door, pulling out your phone to call Jisung. You kick at the leaves beneath your feet, the line ringing about 3 times before you hear Jisung rustling in the background.

"Hey." Jisung answers on the other line. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good pachi."

"Good. What's up then, cielo?"

"Can we talk later?"

"We can always talk."

"No, I mean about everything."

"Oh, okay." He clears his throat. "Yeah, of course. If you're ready to."

"I think I am. At least, with you."

"Fair. Do you want me to pick you up? We can grab food and just hang out somewhere."

"That sounds good. I'm at work right now, I won't be off until later today."

"Just text me when you're off. I'll come."

"Okay. Thanks, pachi. I'll see you later."

"Have a good day at work, and take your breaks." He says before keeping the call short and ending it there. You walk back into the shop, tucking your phone into the little apron pocket you have on the front. 

"Everything okay?" Mrs. Pak asks as she fixes a few of the displays in store.

"Kind of?"

"You haven't really talked to your friends?"

"Not really, except Jisung. Chan and Seungmin every now and then about something random."

"Are you sure you've been doing okay?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Pak. I'm trying to give myself the time I need, and I'm trying to give myself the distance I need. It gets difficult when they're all I've known, even now."

"I'm sure they understand. You guys are so young, you're still learning about life and how to navigate the toughest storms."

"Yeah, perhaps." You fiddle with a few stems as you rearrange flowers in a vase. "I'm gonna talk to Jisung later, though. About everything."

"Don't force yourself out of obligation."

"I know." You give her a small smile. "I think I'm ready."

"Good, as long as you are." She gives you a small squeeze on the arm. "I know he is your bestfriend and I know he's only trying to protect you." She continues to look at you. "What about Minho?" You pause and look at her, giving her a tight, pursed smile.

"I don't know. I think I'll talk to him soon, too. But, I don't think I'm ready to keep him close." You let out a breath. "It sucks, but I just don't think I'll be ready to for awhile."

"That's okay, love. If he truly wants to be here for you and grow from his mistakes, he will give you that time without question."

"I hope so, Mrs. Pak."

After your shift, you can already see Jisung's car parked around the corner— his music slightly echoing into the alley. You clean up and quickly close up shop, waving to Mrs. Pak as the both of you go your separate ways.

"Thanks for picking me up, Ji." You softly say as you buckle in and let out a breath, hoping the ride won't be too bad [or awkward]. 

"No biggie. Wanna just grab some bowls at the milk tea place?" You already know what he's talking about, so you nod and let Jisung take over. 

"That sounds good."

"How was work?"

"It wasn't too bad."

"Tired?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"I won't keep you out for long so you can get rest."

"It's alright, pachi. I appreciate it, though." You look at him as you lean back against the head rest, slight exhaustion taking over during the calming car ride. Jisung gives you a small smile before shifting his attention back to the road. He can tell you're tired, and he knows you've got a million things running through your mind right now.

But, he's mainly concerned arriving to the destination in one piece and getting this much-needed conversation done. He really misses his bestfriend and he truly hopes you aren't mad at him anymore— though, he would understand if you still needed space.

Upon arriving to the milk tea place, Jisung has to circle a couple of times before he finds a decent parking spot. It's pretty packed inside for the early evening, and it takes about 20 minutes before you're walking out with food and drinks in your hand.

Jisung decides he wants to head to the beach to eat since the weather seems to be cooperating tonight. He increases the music volume a tad bit, humming along as he drives off to the shoreline.

Luckily, the beach is quite empty— giving you and Jisung the peace and solace needed for the conversation that's about to happen. Jisung takes the bags of food in his hand even though you offer to help haul some. You take the lead towards the bench, plopping onto a criss-crossed position just as Jisung takes a seat next to you and sets the bag on the floor. The night sky is clear, though it's a bit cold and there's a slight breeze that adds onto it. But, Jisung offered his extra jacket from the back of his car earlier as an added layer of protection from the cold— making it all the less unbearable. Jisung unpacks the food and hands you your bowl before settling with his. The both of you quietly eat and look out at the view before you manage to break the silence first.

"Thanks for the food, pachi."

"Of course." He smiles. "You must be hungry. Eat up."

"I'm okay, surprisingly." You dig into your bowl and take another bite. "How's everyone been at home?"

"Everyone's been alright. Busy. We haven't really had time to get together and eat. I guess everyone's taking on more than usual lately."

"Busy is good. But, not too busy. I hope you guys are still eating and getting proper rest." Jisung shrugs.

"We try." He turns to you. "What about you? How have you been feeling?"

"I don't know, honestly." You let out a small sigh, making Jisung shift his attention back to you— cheek full of food. "I'm still trying to process everything that happened with Minho. It sucks, and I know it was all in the past. But, it still hurts to know that he was capable of doing that. I just, I know—" You sigh and shake your head, Jisung finally taking a sip of his water after finally going through his last bite of food. "I'm rambling. I should've known that even the person I love the most is capable of doing the most damage. Maybe I should've known better."

"It's not your fault, Y/N. None of this was your fault." Jisung pauses before continuing. "It's true you could find both qualities in the person you love, but over the years, there was no reason for you to believe that. Minho had always been good to you. It's just unfortunate that he made some sudden, impulsive decisions based off of his current feelings at the time without really thinking about it."

"Mm yeah, I think what hurts the most is that he made me an option. I went from being his priority to an option. A second choice. Even though I think.. I did my best in our relationship. Right? I tried?" Jisung gives you a tiny toothless smile with a nod.

"Of course you did. You always did. So, that's just to say, this wasn't your fault. Don't start thinking about where you could've done better, or what you could've improved. There was nothing. You gave it your all."

"I don't really know what this brings for us, and I think that's also what's hurting me." You pick at your food. "Our timing is incredibly off. I just wish he told me before I started—" You let out a breath before looking at Jisung, bottom lip trembling. "Before I started letting him in again." And Jisung knows exactly what that means. Before your feelings started to [re]surface, before you got too comfortable, too safe. "My feelings were strong, and I thought he had easily become my safe space. That he was always my safe space. Think I could be wrong." Your head drops again.

"I'm sorry, cielo. I wish I did more to prevent this from happening, and I'm sorry I didn't. I knew it was wrong, but I—" He sighs. "I was trying to be neutral because I didn't wanna be in your business. Plus, even if I told him he needed to tell you sooner than later, I couldn't force him. You needed to hear this from him and no one else. I'm so sorry, Y/N. I hope you understand my point of view but please also know that I tried everything within my boundaries. Chan and Seungmin did, too."

"I know, pachi. I know." You give him a gentle squeeze on the wrist. 

"Are you still mad at me?"

"I'm not mad."

"You have every right to be mad."

"I'm not." You chuckle a bit.

"Okay." Jisung smiles.

"But, I probably won't talk about this out loud again for a while."

"W-what about Minho?" He hesitates to ask.

"To be honest, I don't think I'll talk to him for awhile." You say lowly, feeling incredibly sad hearing the statement slip through your lips. But, you know it has to be done. You're not ready, and you don't want to force anything.

It's just incredibly sad because you do have feelings for him. 

You do have love for him.

If that love prevails though, if you two were meant to be in this time, he'd be there in the end. He'd understand you, he'd wait for you, he'd let this fall into place when it should.

If it should.

It adds onto the pain to think about, knowing there's a possibility this could go either way. But, this was your second chance at life, another reason to do you, for you.

"I understand." Jisung swallows the lump in his throat, remembering that time when you came to him right before you got back together with Minho.

☁︎ FLASHBACK

"Here." Jisung hands you your milk tea before sitting in the chair next to you.

"Thanks, pachi." You poke your straw in through the lid, eyes gazing back up at the stars. The night sky is clear, though it's a bit chillier than normal. You have a blanket wrapped around you while Jisung has on a thick jacket, a scarf wrapped around his neck.

"Where's Minho?"

"Dance workshop."

"Hm, okay." Jisung sits back comfortably and joins you in looking up at the stars. "So, how did your talk with him go?"

"It was good. He told me he wanted to get back together, but he said he'd wait."

"I mean, that's on you, cielo." You furrow your brows.

"Greatest advice."

"I'm serious." He shrugs. "Listen, I know he's been really trying and it's obvious that his actions are genuine. That he wants you back. I know he means it. But, do you feel ready?"

"I don't know, Ji. I think so. I miss him, too." You look at him while sipping your milk tea. "He has shown it through his actions over time."

"As long as you're ready." Jisung lets out a breath. "He was stupid. But, to be devil's advocate, I know he loves you and cares about you at the end of the day. May not have been the right way to go about things, and it's terrible he had to learn the hard way. But, he is trying. I can see it."

"Yeah. I guess we're just one of those couples." You make a face, and Jisung chuckles. "Shit is definitely not easy."

"Mm. Gross." You punch Jisung on the bicep and he laughs. "Kidding, dude."

"Do you think he truly loves me?"

"I don't know if I can answer that, cielo. Do you feel like he does? Can you really see it through his actions? Love is an action, it should be shown. It should be felt. Not just through words."

"I do."

"Then, that's what matters between you two. You love him, right?"

"Mhm. I don't think I stopped. Even when it hurt me the most."

"I'm sorry. I know. You've always shown it in your actions, I don't think Minho has ever questioned it. He's lucky. I hope he realizes it and sticks with it." The two of you stay silent for a bit.

"Jisung?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think he really had feelings for Kat?"

"Uh." He sighs. "I don't think so. I honestly just think it was infatuation at its peek."

"Hm." You hum, not really wanting to revisit that part of the past again. "Are you two better now?"

"Me and Minho?" You nod. "I guess, yeah. Took me awhile to not be angry and annoyed with him."

"What changed?"

"Well. You know how sometimes, you get tired from being mad at someone? Like, you literally feel exhausted and just over it? I think it was that. Plus, he's my bestfriend, too. I kinda missed our dumb moments together." You chuckle. "Besides, again. I can tell he's trying to make up for his mistakes, and he hasn't stopped putting in the effort." He sips his milk tea. "I know it's inevitable for things to happen, and things will never be perfect. I just want him to keep his word about taking care of you and being that person for you."

"Thanks, Ji."

"I got you. Always."

"What I do without you? For real." He sits back with a smug smirk on his face.

"Finally asking the right questions." You roll your eyes and pinch his thigh, making him yelp in return.

☁︎ END

"Can I just say something?" He looks at you. "About him?"

"Of course."

"He was really stupid, okay? The decisions he made were so dumb, and I was angry at him for awhile because I trusted him to take care of you. Protect you. But, on the other hand, I know he has been trying to do better. He's owned up to his mistakes and I can tell he really wants to try. He doesn't wanna end up in that situation again. I know he's trying." Jisung repeats at the tail end, making you let out a breath. "That's not to say that you shouldn't take your time or that you should listen to me when it comes to making decisions. Because I know you have feelings for him, and I know you have always loved him. Just know that either way, I know Minho will try for you— whether as your bestfriend or boyfriend, whatever it looks like down the road. You do what's best for you and what feels right, okay?"

"I know, Ji. I will." 

"He'll understand. He's not the best with openly communicating that sometimes, but he will." You nod.

"Has he been okay?"

"Mm. Deep down, I know he isn't. But, he will be. He's quieter and keeping himself busy at the café or at the studio. Doesn't really do or say much otherwise."

"Is he getting enough rest and stuff?"

"I think." Jisung chuckles. "You don't have to worry too much, he's gonna be okay. For real. He has three other housemates, we'll keep him in check."

"Thanks." You give him a tiny smile.

"Come." Jisung sets his food down before standing and opening his arms. You laugh and shake your head, embracing your bestfriend and hugging him tightly. If it's one thing you can appreciate about this entire moment, it's the fact that Jisung remains unchanged; to you, to Minho. He will always be there to support you. He will always be there to support Minho. Yet, he will always give you that extra push, that extra reassurance to do what's right for you. He has always been your other half— someone you equally love and can't stand, someone you turn to on good days and bad days, someone you know who will be there to help you relearn the world one step at a time.

Jisung is your bestfriend and you have no idea where you'd be without him.

"Ji?"

"Mhm?" You feel his chest rumble with the response.

"Thank you. I mean it." You pull back and look at him.

"When have you not meant it?" He raises a brow, making you chuckle.

"No, for everything. For being there in the hospital. For helping get re-acquainted with the world slowly but surely. For your patience. For being so kind." You shrug. "Everything. Uncle Adrian has always taken good care of me, but I truthfully don't know where I'd be without you by my side, too."

"It's nothing." Jisung laughs. "I promised your mom I'd always look out for you." You nod silently before hugging him again.

"I hope things between me and Minho will be okay."

"It will be." You two finally part and sit back down to finish eating, the waves crashing against the shore ahead. "In time, it will be." He repeats before finishing up his food and updating you about work [amongst other things]. By the time you both have finished eating, you take a small walk down the pier before heading back to the car. Jisung turns up the heat, putting up his music as he makes his way to your house. 

When he finally pulls up, he takes a minute to say his hello's to Uncle Adrian— subtly raiding his fridge before Uncle Adrian laughs at his attempt. Eventually, he ends up giving Jisung some food he had made; telling him the food is good for tomorrow and to share with his roommates. Jisung thanks him and walks you to your cottage, giving you one last hug before waddling over to his car.

When Jisung gets home, Seungmin is in the living room just about to pop open his to-go container. There are still no signs of Chan or Minho, and the house is quiet despite the low hum of the TV in front of them.

"Yo. Where'd you come from?" Seungmin mixes his bibimbap, eyes glued to the TV as the show he's watching comes back on after a commercial break. 

"Just finished hanging out with Y/N." Jisung tosses his keys to the side and plops onto the couch next to him. "Nice to see you sitting here instead of being in your room." He teases and Seungmin shakes his head.

"Sorry dude, I've been exhausted lately." He takes a bite. "Did you eat with Y/N?"

"Mhm."

"How is she?"

"Good."

"Is she still mad? You know.. at me, Chan and Minho?"

"Well, it's really Minho. It's just.. a lot for the both of them."

"I hope she knows we care about her a lot."

"She does. She just needs time from him. Needs to sort through her feelings and process everything."

"Understandable." Seungmin clears his throat. "How do you feel about it?"

"I mean, I obviously want the best for them. I know they've had their ups and downs, but they always seem to find their way back to each other again. Maybe they are meant to be in each other's lives, however it looks like?" He does a slight shimmy. "I don't know. I just want them happy and content again, even if they're just friends."

"Yeah, I agree. I'm glad she's okay though."

"Yeah, she's good." Jisung sits next to Seungmin for a bit, casually watching the show while catching up with Seungmin for a bit more. 

After all the recent events, Jisung is happy to have you back because he knows they put you through it with this situation alone. You are his bestfriend, his other half— having you there to talk to, vent to, run to, was always second nature. Not having you there made him feel lonely and incomplete. It wasn't something he was used to, and quite frankly, it's something he doesn't ever wanna get used to.

⇢ 18.5 [cloudy days]: here

♡ taglist: @ppiri-bahng @jihanlovic @meloncremesoda @sweetlikecherry @asjkdk @hoes4lino @skzddicted @skzho @edgaralienpoe @harui-zen @bestleeknowstan @havenwithleeknow @septicrebel @heesdazed @borahae-reads @yoontaethings @pearbunny @bintificreads @lukeys-giggle @ajxreads @everglowdaisies @allaboutsan @endzii23 @leeknowsramen @heres-your-ramen2000 @morningstardada @mal-lunar-28 @downbadreading @lilysophie @feelikecinderella @urmomma0324 @ddazed-lhs @djeniryuu @melanctton @i8rsie @maru-matt @sleepyleeji @taerifin @nattisbored @jisunglyricist @m111nho @drhsthl @nixtape-foryou @arminseas @guiltycoco @syuuji @sulkygyu @cadihyo @reianagarcia @leeknowyah @smndjdufuehr @dprkbyn @xxibreinaxx @mxnsxngie @reiheis @mellowmentalitydragon @vixensss 

[thewertsearch]

You decide to SEEK COUNSEL from the Rose human's dark spectacled friend. You believe you understand how to proceed.

Kanaya seeks counsel from the Knight of Time, who (possibly accidentally) lets slip some good advice...

...and their relationship finally starts to blossom.

You put into motion a cunning plan in your SEVENTH CONVERSATION, in which you have attached a MISSION CRITICAL TEXT DOCUMENT.

We get a treat I didn't expect - a copy of the legendary document, ConversationWithAVeryStupidGirl.Txt!

It's incredible. Kanaya presented it to Rose as a transcript of a future conversation, subtly doctored to trick Rose into following a time loop.

What it actually is is an obviously doctored transcript, where Kanaya Tactically Omits every awkward interaction, and edits Rose's responses with her typing quirk.

Kanaya isn't trying to hide her edits - which makes this document less of a clever trick, and more of a genuine attempt by Kanaya to communicate something to Rose.

TT: i am the queen of books. TT: I Am Also Infuriatingly Aloof TT: And Difficult To Engage With TT: When Maybe All The Other Person Wants To Do Is Maybe To Try To Be My Friend

"I Want To Get To Know You."

TT: it's hard to keep track with all your time nonsense. TT: Am I Being Sincere Here TT: In Retrospect It Will Probably Seem Unlikely To My Current Conversational Partner

"I Am Trying Really Hard To Understand You."

TT: because i am basically in love with him, you are right. TT: It Is At This Point I Admit To Flushed Longings For The Ignoramus Who Likes Terrible Films TT: I Am Doing This Only To Bother You

"When You Joked About Liking John It Bothered Me. You Can Probably Figure Out Why."

TT: Why Would I Even Be Saying Things Like This TT: Of Course TT: I Have Been So Foolish TT: It Is Because I Am Trolling You TT: I Wonder Where I Could Have Possibly Gotten The Idea To Do That In The First Place

"I Know We Got Off On The Wrong Foot, But It Was Mostly Because Of Time Loop Nonsense."

ConversationWithAVeryStupidGirl.Txt is so ironic, it's tipped over into sincerity - and it's asking a very simple question.

"I Like You. Can We Start Again?"

In their next conversation, Rose provides an answer.

And that answer is yes.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 32 - Whose bed have your boots been under?

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 31 -- Part 33

Pairing: Sy x Alicia (trans!ofc)

Summary: Sy finally takes Liz out on a date! (Which he's late for. And we know why.)

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, anal sex (f receiving), loads of nerves, mentions of transphobia, some angst, there's a horse dildo in there somewhere, Sy not eating a girl out for a change. This one's pretty basic actually...

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: And once again, it's been a while! I've been working on this date for a long time, but I was in a smut-writing-slump for some reason. Looks like I'm out of it now! (Heck yeah!) Now if maybe I could put this energy towards my novels, that would be superduper great, but you know the muse... Finnicky, fickle little fucker. Anyway: Enjoy nervous Sy on a date!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @livisss @sillyrabbit81

@ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson @poledancingdinos @thelastsock @wa-ni

@proud-aroace-beastie @totalwool

“Couldn’t find a lower cut top to wear?” Dammit.

“I hate that that’s not even the worst opening line I’ve heard,” I say as I look up at Sy. I’m not wearing heels today, so he’s slightly taller than I am. I like it — not that a guy being shorter than me is a dealbreaker or anything… It’s more like… I’m tall for a girl, and that height sometimes makes me feel un-girly, which I hate. So, the fact that Sy is the kind of guy who looks like he could pick me up and throw me across a room… It helps.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” He smiles down at me, leaning in for a kiss. I have to admit I was worried about that. All of it. When he texted me after the party, I was just waiting for him to suggest the typical ‘movie at his place’ date, but he asked me where I wanted to go, and there happens to be a Shania Twain cover band playing tonight at a bar I like.

So, I told him we’re going to a bar. Didn’t mention the part about the Shania Twain covers.

“Wanna get going?” I can’t stop my voice from trembling, and I’m sure one look at my face will tell him more than he needs to know, so I turn around and start walking.

“Any particular reason you’re walking a mile and a half away from me?” He catches up with ease, grabs my hand and turns me to face him. “What’s going on? ‘Cause I’m gettin’ the feeling you don’t want to be out here with me.”

I scoff. “Right.” Do I tell him? He puts his hands on my waist and pulls me close. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, and all that heat is making me boil over. “I’m scared you don’t want to be out here with me.”

I’m shaking, and freezing cold and boiling hot at the same time. My heart races in my throat, and I can’t bring myself to look Sy in the eye. I can’t cry. Not here. Not now.

The feeling of his hand cupping my cheek almost pushes me over the edge. “I’m sure you have a reason for feeling that way,” he says softly. I nod — a tiny little nod that I’m not even sure he caught. “Mind telling me what it is?”

Fuck. I screw my eyes shut to stop the tears from falling, but they escape anyway. “I’ve dated guys before,” I mutter. “And they were super-duper okay with me, they said… It actually took me a while to realize — scratch that… A friend had to tell me… It was always their place or mine. Never dinner, or even a movie.”

There’s no stopping these tears now. “When my friend pointed it out, I asked the guy I was seeing about it, and…”

Sy pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me. I inhale deeply on instinct. Leather. Spice. Warmth. “I don’t need to know what he said, because I’m pretty sure it would ruin my entire mood,” he says softly. That he didn’t want to be seen in public with me because he was scared it would make him look gay? Yeah, that’ll ruin your mood, alright… “But I want you to know I like you, Liz. Pretty sure I’d follow you anywhere.”

I’m laughing before I know it. “Well, that’s a good thing… Because I might have omitted a tiny little detail about the place we’re going…”

“Alright… I’ll go get us some drinks! Beer?” Without waiting for his answer — it’ll be ‘yes’ — I turn around and start to walk towards the bar. Try to, at least, because Sy grabs my arm and pulls me back until I’m standing with my back against his chest.

“I remember asking you out on a date, Liz.” His lips are right next to my ear, his beard tickles my neck, it’s… That damn cologne. Those damn, huge, strong hands keeping me pinned to him right now. “This is a date, right?”

“Yeah, Sy. It is. Wha—” He’s suddenly right in front of me, gently backing me into the wall, hands on my hips.

He leans his forehead against mine. “Let me make something very clear, sugar.” He speaks slowly, his voice dark and gruff. The sound of it shoots sparks straight down my spine, and I clench my thighs together. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before any woman of mine pays for her own drink on a date.”

Speaking. That’s a thing. Words are a thing. Do I know any? Voice… Where is my voice? Why am I just staring at him? That’s dumb. This is dumb. I’m dumb. Oh my god, what am I even doing here? “I, ehh…” Yeah. That’s not good. “Okay.”

He smirks down at me. “Beer?”

“Wine,” I manage — but barely.

Sy cocks an eyebrow. “You drink wine?” No. I don’t. But it makes me feel more feminine, and I really need that right now. “I’ve literally never seen you drink wine. Besides, people who drink wine usually tell you if they want red or white.”

“Okay, busted… I wanted to feel… girlier,” I admit.

“You dragged me to a Shania Twain cover band. We’re good on girly,” he says with a wink. “Beer?”

I nod, and semi-anxiously await his return. “You’re not mad about the music?” I ask as I take the bottle from his hand.

He chuckles as he shakes his head before raising his bottle. “To Shania Twain,” he says, “and great company.”

“Thanks so much for coming out, everyone! We’re gonna take a little break, and we’ll be right back!” The singer jumps off the small stage in the corner and makes a beeline for the bar, where she spots me. “Liz! I thought I saw you!” She’s got her arms wrapped around me before I can actually see her — during the first half of the set, the bar has gotten significantly more crowded.

“Hollie!” I love this girl, but if she doesn’t take her eyes off my man right this second, I’m throwing hands. “You’re doing amazing! How’s the cold?” It had her down for a good few days, she wasn’t even sure she’d make it tonight. I’m glad to see she’s doing well.

“Getting better! The full set is tough, though.” She downs the glass of water she’s holding. “We could use a little bit of you after this break, girl. But first, introduce me to this handsome gentleman.”

Is it totally horrible that I don’t fucking want to? I look at Sy, who casually reaches out a hand towards Hollie. “Nate Syverson. Call me Sy.”

“Well, Sy,” Hollie says with a sickly-sweet smile. Or is that my imagination? “What brings you here?”

“Liz,” he deadpans. Much to my surprise, he’s looking at me, barely even glancing at Hollie as he speaks. “She agreed to let me take her out on a date.”

“Lucky man… And you bring her here?” She gestures around the room before giving me the look.

“I dragged him here,” I admit. We go from ‘damn girl, nice! Break me off a piece of that!’ to ‘what the actual fuck were you thinking?’ in a matter of seconds. I look over at Sy — he looks insanely hot, the way he’s standing there, leaning against the bar. “Sorry, again.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, sugar,” he reaches for me, hooking his fingers behind my belt and pulling me back until I’m standing between his legs. Those same damn legs he’s been spreading a little too casually on that damn bar stool. The ones I can’t keep my eyes off. “I like the music.”

When he excuses himself and heads off to the bathroom, Hollie grabs my arm so hard it almost hurts. “You have to sing!”

“What? No!” Actually, yes. I’m secretly dying to get up there: I love to sing. And not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’m good.

“Your song’s coming up, girl! I’m not giving you a choice.” Just Hollie being Hollie. “You want him to come home with you, yes?”

Duh. Then why is the gesture I make hesitant as all hell?

“Alright! For our next song, I’d like to invite a very special guest onto the stage… Alicia Thomson!”

Sy’s eyes go wide, and he raises an eyebrow. I take a deep breath. “Well, gotta go!”

I walk up to Hollie, who’s busy adjusting the mic stand. Even in this little bar, the lights are hot. And despite that, my arms are covered in goosebumps. Haven’t done this in a while… I can still see Sy, sitting in the same place as before, his gaze trained on my face with utmost concentration.

One side of my mouth curls up into a cheeky smile. “Whose bed have your boots been under?”

“So,” Sy says when I make my way back to him after the song is done. “You sing.”

“I sing,” I reply, my smile stretching ear to ear. I forgot how great that felt… Not nearly as great as the warm hands that pull me forward by my hips until I’m standing between Sy’s thighs again.

“Woman, you are amazing,” he says with a smile. When he kisses me, it’s like my heart stops. My head spins, my knees shake — the whole nine. He keeps it decent. Why? For the love of God: Why? Words cannot express how much I need this man, literally right now, and — if at all possible— incredibly indecent.

“Wanna get out of here?” Not subtle, but incredibly effective, if I do say so myself. He doesn't even answer me; he just grabs my hand and pulls me along to the exit.

We don't talk during the drive back to my place, or on the walk up to the apartment, which gives my insecurities plenty of time to get the upper hand — especially when Sy doesn't make a move as soon as the door closes, other than wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Are you opposed to watching movies in bed in general?” Dirty smirk? Check. Playful glint in his eyes? Check. Me unceremoniously shoving him against his shoulder? Check. Ugh. Get it together, Liz. And try to maybe not maim your date. He seems fine though.

Instead of answering, I grab his hand and drag him towards my bedroom, stopping right in front of the door as a sudden wave of anxiety grabs me by the throat. Did I clean my room? Did I put everything — and, yes, I mean everything, in that way — away?

“Liz?” He leans his chin on my shoulder from behind, while his hands slowly dance over my hips, fingertips barely grazing me.

“Can I get, like... Thirty seconds? Just to see if there's anything you shouldn't be seeing...”

“And what would I be seeing?” I can’t see his face, but I can hear the grin in his voice. Yeah... What would he be seeing? I hate the way his teasing seems to shut down my brain. I hate the fact that I could tease him right back if I could just find my nerve, even more.

Get a grip, Thomson.

I conjure up a grin and turn my head towards Sy, leaning it back on his shoulder to get my lips as close to his ear as possible. “Equipment of the... mature personal entertainment variety,” I purr softly. I can feel his cock twitch against my ass, and part of me really hopes it's the voice he reacts to, instead of the message. Another part of me, however, kinda hopes he’s into… that.

“Just open the damn door,” he groans, digging his fingers into my hips. “If I don't have more of you in my arms soon...”

Despite all this big talk, I'm still more or less mortified when the first thing Sy comments on is my favorite vibrator. It's on my bed, because it needed to charge. Regardless of whether it's actually done charging... it's done now. I yank it off the charger and toss it back in the drawer under my bed.

Sy chuckles as he drags a thumb over my no doubt crimson red cheeks. “The way you're looking at me right now, all terrified and whatnot, kinda makes me want to take a dive into that drawer...”

“You're not, like... pissed? Or, I don’t know... intimidated?” Wouldn't be the first time.

“Intimidated?” He laughs — the deep, full, throaty kind that men do that's hot and, in this particular case, slightly embarrassing. “Sugar, ain't no way I'm going to be intimidated by a piece of plastic.” He's still laughing when he drops himself onto my bed and rolls to the side by the wall.

Oh, what I wouldn't give to smack that cocky smirk off his face... Maybe I can. I lie down next to Sy and reach into the drawer. “Not even this one?” I wave a whole lot of light blue silicone in his face until he grabs my wrist and looks at the toy I'm holding with wide eyes. He's definitely not smirking now...

“Sugar... Before I even ask any questions...” He blinks a few times as if that's going to magically make the dildo I'm holding up disappear — or at least transform into something that doesn't look like it jumped straight out of my — or maybe his, who knows? — OF subscriptions. “I grew up around horses. I know what that is...”

“Oh my god!” I laugh — no. Cackle. — and hide my face behind my free arm. “Sorry,” I mutter, “I'm a bit of a freak.”

“As long as we're keeping that away from me, I'm good with that,” he chuckles. “Now... Where the hell does that even go? Never mind...”  He knows the answer. I know that, because the last time I saw him, I told him there was no way he was ever going to fit in my pussy. And since this thing is bigger than he is by... not even as much as you'd expect, looking at the size of that toy, really... God, the man is massive...

I put the dildo back under the bed and snuggle into Sy's side. I admire the way he just makes himself at home in my room, grabbing the remote off the shelf over my headboard. “Do we go the cheesy romcom route, or do we opt for Mike's favorite tactic?”

“I'm assuming that would be ‘worst horror movie of the century’, then ‘hold her when scared’?” I ask, and Sy nods. “What if I don't get scared?”

“I could pretend to be scared.” He smirks down at me. “But we'd have to switch positions.”

I shake my head. I'm comfortable, lying here with my head on his chest, my leg swung over his. There's one thing missing, though. Blankets. Lots of ‘em!

“It's freezing in here, sugar.” Oh? Really? I hadn't noticed! It's not like I turned the heater off before I left and opened the window... I look up at him like I don't know what he's talking about, but he won't fall for it. “Fucking hell, y'all are somethin' else!”

We get under the covers, and I sigh as I sink into his arms again. “But it's comfy, right?”

He rolls his eyes at me and turns his attention back to the TV. “Horror, romcom or something else?”

“Romcom. Anything Ashton Kutcher is fine by me.” Besides... I was actually hoping we wouldn't be watching most of it because we'd be too busy doing other things. Like making out like our lives depend on it.

Imagine my surprise — and horror — when I see an annoyingly large amount of Ashton Kutcher, and very little of Sy's body. What is he waiting for? An invitation carved in marble? I'm practically on top of him, for crying out loud! This is just rude.

And as if that's not bad enough... “Sugar, would you stop squirming?” he suddenly asks.

“I'm squirming to get your attention,” I huff. “Y'know... so you'll grab me, and kiss me, and we can get to the good stuff? You inside me, to name something...”

He winces when I say it. What kind of man winces at the prospect of sex? Okay, I mean... tons of them, probably, and for all kinds of good reasons... But Sy is known, by and large, as a bit of a slut.

“Hey!” he says, glaring at me when I point that out. “Us sluts get nervous, too.”

“Nervous about what?” Oh my God! “Shit, about what I said last time? I mean... I wasn't kidding, but... Ah. First time, right?” The nod he gives in response is damn near imperceptible. “You know we don't have to go there, right?”

“I, eh... No, that's not... Not that I... Wh— I give up. There's no way to say that in any kind of way that doesn't make it sound like I'm not here for you, but for that, and...”

“The gist of what you're not saying would be that it's every man's dream, right?” I can't hold back my laughter. “Sy, it's okay! You suffered through Shania Twain for me — even though I suspect you secretly love her — and you tell me you like me in public, I know—”

“Is the bar really that low, Liz?” He stares at me with wide open eyes, and I can't think of a single thing to say.

I shrug, tears burning behind my eyes as I barely manage to squeeze the words out: “Yeah. I mean, with guys, it sort of is...”

His fingers trail over my cheek, all the way down until they rest at the nape of my neck, and he pulls me close. “You deserve better.”

I guess we're finally done with Ashton Kutcher for tonight... Sy's lips are warm against mine as he kisses me. It's tender. Romantic. Lacking every bit of the raw, needy passion from the New Years party... I'm sure I'll get to see that side of him again sooner rather than later, though. I can feel in in the way he pulls me in, fingertips pressing into my lower back as he firmly holds my body flush against his.

He's hard — my squirming worked — but there's nothing about him or his behavior that draws any attention to the fact. What a true gentleman.

Sy pulls back and raises an eyebrow when I chuckle out loud. “Not what a man wants to hear,” he mutters under his breath, making me laugh even harder.

“I’m sorry,” I manage between fits of laughter. Am I laughing to avoid having a serious conversation about this? Absolutely! It’s way too early for that. I barely know this guy. That said, the laughter isn’t exactly helping, I suppose, so it doesn’t really matter. “It’s just that you’re trying so hard to be sweet and gentlemanly and I’m over here trying to seduce you and it feels a little… backwards? It’s funny, okay?”

His eyes darken, and when he speaks again, his voice is low and rough. “Ain’t so funny to me, sugar.” If the voice wasn’t doing it, the way he’s squeezing my ass through my jeans right now would. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been dreaming about that pretty mouth on my dick.”

Oh, so we’re playing it like that, all of a sudden? “Including that other thing I did?” I tease. It’s fun to watch his cheeks flush as he tries to keep his composure.

“I’d like to reiterate my disinterest in silicone horse cock,” he says, his voice surprisingly steady. “But otherwise; yeah.”

I look at him for a second too long, and next thing I know, we’re both laughing uncontrollably. “If we keep this up, neither of us is getting laid tonight,” I manage in between fits of laughter.

“Might be for the best…” Hey, what now? I frown — not in an angry way, but in complete and utter confusion. Sy sighs deeply and rests his forehead against mine. “I’m stalling. Under normal circumstances… No, fuck, I didn’t mean— That’s not— All I’m sa—”

He rolls onto his back and groans while I bite back a laughing fit that would most likely make him run.

“Sy,” I whisper, scared that if I speak louder, I won’t be able to control myself, “stop worrying about saying the wrong thing. These are not normal circumstances — well, they are for me, but you know what I mean. You have some leeway in the vocabulary, I promise.”

I take a deep breath and roll on top of him, straddling his hips and sliding my hands under his t-shirt. Don’t feel like laughing now, do you, Thomson? Sy groans when I roll my hips. The way he looks up at me raises goose bumps all over my body. Big hands rest on my thighs, fingers tightening with every move of my hips, squeezing me hard…

My hands are on his chest now, nails digging into his skin, leaving little half-moon marks from the pressure. His eyes are locked on mine, his breathing heavy and quick… As soon as I sit up again, he pulls his shirt over his head, and I follow suit. His Adam’s apple bobs aggressively when he swallows hard, and I smile smugly.

I appreciate being appreciated. Admired. Coveted. And Sy is giving me exactly what I need.

He sits up against the headboard, pulling me in with just two fingers hooked into the waistband of my jeans. Heated moans fill the air as he crushes his mouth against mine, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth while his hands work quickly to undo my belt and unbutton my jeans.

“Could’ve worn one with a zipper,” he growls quietly as he fusses with buttons number two and three. Yeah. I could have. He should be glad they’re not skinny jeans.

The sensation of his warm hands competing with the cold air as he moves them over my waist and the small of my back, is electrifying. To make matters worse — or better — it’s followed by a slow, sensual kiss in my neck. Then another. Then another.

He’s moving, searching, my hands clasping the back of his head, guiding him, until… There. Heady moans escape me with every pass of his tongue over that spot at the crook of my neck, every playful nibble, while every needy roll of my hips earns me a dark chuckle, muffled against my skin. One hand rests on the band of my bra, while the other is draped around my waist, pulling me down while his hand dips into my jeans and squeezes my ass.

Fuck. I need friction. Lots of it. Now! I grind down on him harder, but it’s not working — not like this. There’s too much denim. Too many clothes in general, I—

One simple move of his hand and my bra snaps open. Damn, he’s good. I sigh, my breath quivering with disappointment as his mouth leaves my neck and travels down my sternum.

Sy's barely had his mouth on my nipple for ten seconds when a sudden, harsh bite makes me whimper. “Take these fucking jeans off,” he growls, pushing me back with force. He takes care of his belt buckle with one hand. Why is that hot? “And everything else, too.”

Moments later, we’re naked, pressed up against each other, every atom of space between us one too many. I used to hate being naked — I still do, occasionally, but right now, with him… It’s wonderful. My hands roam over his chest, down his abs, exploring his body. I teasingly run a finger down the length of his cock, and he shivers, moaning into my mouth as we continue making out. It’s his turn to grind against me with burning need and impatience, and I chuckle.

It’s a powerful feeling to have a man want you this bad.

His hands linger on my ass, his touch switching between punishing and demanding, and hesitant and shy.

“You’ll have to, at some point,” I tease. He knows what I mean.

“I—” The end of his sentence is an adorably helpless, clueless look as he shrugs.

It’s a good thing I don’t mind taking point for educational purposes, or else this whole thing never would have worked out. Behind my back, I grab his wrist, and bring his fingers up to my lips. He gets the hint, biting his lip as I suck his fingers into my mouth, his cock twitching against my stomach.

I reach down between us and wrap my fingers around his hard length, while Sy very slowly and very gently eases a finger into my ass. I resist the urge to chuckle when I see his eyes go wide. Sy’s face doesn’t usually have subtitles, but I can see every thought going through his head right now in quick succession.

“I said it would fit,” I say, “not that you could ram it up there within ten seconds, no problem. Just take it easy, take your time.”

“Is it— I mean, does it…” His voice trails off into a desperate moan when I trail my thumb over the underside of the head of his cock.

“Feel good? Yeah it does.” I push back against his finger a bit. I’m five seconds away from begging him for more, faster, harder, deeper, anything… The feeling of the tip of a second finger teasing me gets my hopes up, but he stops.

“Do you have any lube?” he asks carefully.

It takes everything I have to not roll my eyes. Not only do I think that stupid questions do exist, I also firmly believe they deserve an equally stupid answer. “No, I was planning on taking this entire thing up my ass completely dry,” I snap a little too sourly as I squeeze his cock, making him groan. “Believe me, neither of us want that. That’s how you end up in the ER.”

I can barely reach my nightstand from this position, but I don’t really want to move away from him. Finally! I triumphantly pull the bottle out of the drawer. “Here you go! Don’t ration it.” He laughs when I wink at him.

He takes the advice to heart, coating his fingers in a very liberal amount of lube. I continue stroking him as my heart flutters in anticipation. My stomach is sticky with precum — his too, probably — and every stroke draws another deeply sexy moan from him while he explores me with two thick fingers, moving them as if he’s searching for some— Ah! Right.

“Wrong angle,” I moan against his skin, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

I push his hand away and lift my leg up to his hip. Sy understands immediately, reaching between my legs to continue what he was doing.

“Found it,” I say, smirking up at him when he’s found the right spot. I abandon my attempt to continue the sort-of-handjob I was working on. We both need to focus right now.

One of the best things about Sy is that he seems happy to put his ego aside for the sake of learning. He’s not insulted by instructions, and he takes advice to heart. I’d say I appreciate it, but it’s really more of a hard requirement to even get into my bed — it's been quite a while since I last wasted my time on silly little boys who don’t listen when I clearly spell out to them what feels good and what doesn’t.

Sy is a quick study, too, and I’m squirming in his arms in no time, breathing heavily against his neck, with my arms wrapped tightly around him.

“Don’t change a thing,” I moan. Pressure steadily builds inside me, and I know an earth-shattering orgasm is within arms reach, and all he has to do is keep. going. “I’m so close…”

Every perfectly steady stroke of his fingers winds me tighter and tighter until I snap. A sharp his escapes Sy when I dig my nails into his back and bite his shoulder. It’s the only thing I can do to keep myself from screaming as every fiber of my being unravels around his fingers.

He lets me catch my breath for a moment, then he looks at me, unsure how to proceed.

“One more, to be sure,” I say weakly, not entirely recovered yet. I’m pretty damn relaxed, so I don’t expect much trouble. Indeed, the next finger slips in without a hitch. Good. “Wanna give it a try?”

He nods furiously, catching himself in the act and calming down immediately to a tougher, more laissez-faire attitude. I can’t help but chuckle as I reach for the drawer again and pull out a condom.

“How, eh…” He makes a few vague hand gestures.

“The logistics?” I ask, and Sy nods in reply. “I prefer doggy, but…”

“I want to see your face,” he blurts out before I can finish my sentence. It’s sweet, he doesn’t easily look shy…

I pull him in for a kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and clearly telling me just how nervous he is right now. When he breaks the kiss, he leans his forehead against mine and lets out a trembling breath.

“I want you on top of me,” I say softly, and he nods, moving to sit on his knees between my legs. He puts the condom on and then takes the bottle of lube, applying a generous amount to his cock before looking at me. There’s a question burning in his eyes.

I let my legs travel up his sides, never breaking eye contact, until my ankles are on his shoulders. He lifts a trembling hand, hooking it around my thigh, and pulls me closer before leaning over me. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous, sugar.”

“Look at me, Sy,” I say, cupping his face in my hands. “Just take it easy, go slow, and listen to me. That’s all you have to do.” Well, that and screw me to heaven and beyond. But let’s not tell him that right now.

He swallows hard, putting more of his weight on top of me as he uses one hand to position himself, and I feel him slowly, steadily pushing into me. It’s impossible to fight back a grin when I see his face: mouth hanging open, eyes wide at first, then screwed tightly shut…

“Easy,” I remind him gently. He’s not hurting me — not yet. “Stop for a second.” He instinctively pulls away, but I stop him. “Just stay there. Give me a second.”

My heart threatens to jump right out of my chest, and it feels like electricity runs through my veins — it’s exactly that excitement that keeps me from being able to handle this right now, and it bugs me.

Deep breath in. Hold. Breathe out.

I repeat it a few times, until I feel Sy sink into me a little further. “We’re good,” I say, my voice barely more than a breath.

Carefully, he pushes deeper into me, until his hips rest against my ass. “Goddamn, sugar,” he pants.

“Tell me about it,” I reply with a smile, relishing the feeling of his thick cock stretching me out. His first thrust makes me whine — then again, louder, when he leans down to kiss me. He sticks with a slow, gentle rhythm, in time with the way his lips move against mine. His low growls mixed with my moans fill the room, and soon I’m begging him to go faster.

“I won’t last ten seconds,” he grunts, but I don’t really care. So he sits up on his knees again and picks up the pace, his thrusts growing rougher with every move. His breathing quickens, his grip on my thighs tightens. I watch his face closely, amusement mixed in with my own desire. His eyes are closed, brow furrowed. A bead of sweat runs down his forehead. He’s clenching his jaw, lips trembling as he tries to hold on — but it’s no use.

“Fuck.”

‘Fuck’, indeed. His last thrusts are reckless, punishing, the low growl he lets slip as he finishes is music to my ears. I whine softly when he pulls out, taking a moment to adjust to the sudden emptiness.

It gets worse when he gets out of bed to clean up. I’m shivering, cold and alone, furiously wishing for Sy to come back and hold me. “Sy?” I plead. “Please talk to me.”

“What? I’ll be right there, sugar.” I know it’s ridiculous. He doesn’t even leave the room, for crying out loud! And yet I feel tiny and abandoned until Sy crawls back under the covers with me and holds me safely in his arms. “Shower?”

“Tomorrow,” I sigh, snuggling tightly against his chest. Yeah. This is alright.

[sugaredoleander]

i just took my final ancient greek exam of the semester yesterday and have been avoiding studying for my microbiology exam all day. so let's talk about these three devastating lines from anne carson's translation of herakles

and by talk about i mostly mean here's a bunch of different translations

Ἡρακλῆς μαινόμενος - Herakles by Euripides, lines 1398-1400

c. 416 BC.

original text in Ancient Greek via the Perseus Digital Library

Euripides. The Complete Greek Drama, edited by Whitney J. Oates and Eugene O'Neill, Jr. in two volumes. 1. Heracles, translated by E. P. Coleridge. New York. Random House. 1938.

Herakles translated by Anne Carson in Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides (pg 81-82) 2006

Internet Archive

H of H playbook by Anne Carson (not a direct translation but a reimagining of Herakles, 2021)

Euripides: Herakles, translated by Tom Sleigh, Oxford University Press, 2001

Ian C. Johnston, 2020

Heracles, translated by William Arrowsmith, from Euripides III: Heracles, the Trojan Women, Iphigenia Among the Taurians, Ion (The Complete Greek Tragedies - Euripides III, University of Chicago Press, 2013 (Arrowsmith's translation itself is from 1956)

my own translation with notes under the cut

* everywhere that I have used [] I have inserted a word that does not technically appear in the original text.

Theseus Stop! Give [your] hand [to me], [your] servant [and] friend. 

*more literally: Stop! Give [your] hand to a servant/helper [and] friend.

* Ancient Greek uses different punctuation, though the : symbol is used roughly the same way as it is in English and exclamation points are not used, verb conjugation in English does not differentiate the imperative mood, which παῦσαι (sg.2.aor.imperat.med-pass) is in, and often the way we show imperative mood in written English is with an exclamation point. 

-The word δίδου (sg.2.praes.imperat.act.) is also imperative. 

-παῦσαι is said in reference to Herakles’ earlier lines, lamenting his - well, the plot of Herakles.

* The particle δὲ has been omitted from the translation. It’s usually translated as but, and, or then. 

* The possessive pronoun your - σός - does not appear but is implied.

* χεῖρ᾽ is the short version of χειρός - hand

* ὑπηρέτῃ φίλῳ are both nouns in dative, here answering the question to whom? The word and - καί - does not appear between the two, likely because poetic language. The word ὑπηρέτῃ can also mean rower, an underling, servant, attendant, assistant, and is often translated here as helper. The word φίλῳ is a form of φίλος - friend, loved, beloved, dear

Herakles No, lest I wipe off blood on your garments.

* Word order changed slightly. The first word is ἀλλ᾽ - poetically shortened version of ἀλλά - usually translated as but, however, here: lest.

* ἐξομόρξωμαι (sg.1.aor.med-pass.) means wipe off or wipe away, but stain is, in my opinion, not an inaccurate translation in regards to the meaning conveyed.

* πέπλοις means any woven cloth, here usually translated as garments, robes or clothes. 

* αἷμα means blood and is grammatically either nominative or accusative, probably accusative, μὴ means not and σοῖς is a second person possessive pronoun in plural dative.

Theseus Wipe it off, spare naught: I [do] not refuse [you].

* ἔκμασσε (sg.2.praes.imperat.act.) - wipe it off - is imperative again, so is φείδου (sg.2.praes.imperat.med-pass.) - spare.

* μηδέν I translated as naught as in nothing, οὐκ means not

* ἀναίνομαι is in sg.1.praes.ind. - so present tense would be the most literal translation, ie. I do not refuse you, but the meaning might best be conveyed in English with the use of future tense, ie. I will not refuse you. The word can also mean reject, deny, renounce and disown, or be ashamed. Possible other translations: I don’t deny you; I won’t reject you; I am not ashamed; I won’t renounce you.)

That's all on Herakles, the rest is me rambling about Ancient Greek grammar for interested parties (mostly myself). If I could put a second cut here, I would.

Some further notes on the grammatical cases and verb conjugation. You'll have noticed that I've followed verbs with parentheses with some abbreviations. I'll break those down a little for those not in the know: unlike English, Ancient Greek has different endings to denote the person in verb conjugation - 1.sg being first person singular as in I, and so on with 2.sg - you, 3.sg he/she/singular they, 1.pl - we, 2.pl - plural you, 3.pl - plural they. There's also technically an extant dual form in some texts (when speaking of a pair of two) but it's rare. Ancient Greek conjugation also varies a lot by the temporal tense, the ancient greek times are present (praesens - praes.), future (futurum and futurum III), imperfect (imperfectum), strong and weak aorist (aor. - this one doesn't exist in any modern languages and is a bit of a jeremy bearimy but is usually translated as either present or past, depending on the context), perfect (perfectum), and pluperfect (pluscuamperfectum) - all of these except imperfect and pluperfect (which only have indicative forms) then have various forms - indicative (ind.), infinitive (inf.), imperative (imperat.), optative (opt.) and conjunctive (coni.). Verbs also have an active (act.) and middle and passive or active and mediopassive (med-pass.) form, except some verbs only have mediopassive versions and are thus translated as either active or mediopassive depending on the context. This is as complicated (and fun!) as it sounds. (editors note: the fun! was not sarcastic - i am a medstudent who hasn't had to take two semesters worth of classes on this, nor do i have to keep taking ancient greek next semester but i'm going to)

Nouns in Ancient Greek also have grammatical cases, nominative, genitive, dative, accusative and vocative, as do adjectives. They also have genders, and adjectives of course have positive, comparative and superlative (good, better, best) forms.

Ancient Greek also uses a lot of participles, which is like a noun-ified verb. Participles are also a concept in English, just - a lot simpler in English, and also I think in English a participle is a verb that has some characteristics of an adjective or noun, whereas in Ancient Greek participles and verbal adjectives are separate concepts. Participles are derived from verbs and have the same grammatical cases as nouns, nominative, genitive, dative, accusative and vocative, and singular and plural versions, and have three genders, masc., fem. and neut. - they also have active and mediopassive forms, and differ based on the temporal conjugation of the verb, retaining its augment, reduplication, characteristic added letters (for example σ in the future tense, and θη + σ in the passive future) or lack thereof, also they can have different endings or roots based on the tense. So, yeah, "conjugate and translate this verb in part.fut.pass.sg.masc.gen. and II aor.part.act.sg.acc.fem." is what a test question might look like at my level of studying ancient greek.

Sentence constructions also differ from English, some of the most common ones are AcI, NcI, genitivus absolutus. accusativus duplex and nominativus duplex. They also will often skip words (particularly the verb to be they often deemed unnecessary) and poetic language is its own can of worms with its own theoretical dialects and prosody.

All of this is like, barely scratching the surface, there's also a bunch of different dialects, stuff varies by era, all of the noun cases have like, a Bunch of different uses, and it's all terribly interesting.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for omitting to a friend that I know more about her life than she thinks I know?

So, I (17F) am friends with a group of nice people in my class. Were're not like, really close friends, at least I am not emotionally very close to them as I am to my bestfriend but anyway. There was a couple in this group, a girl we're gonna call Princess and a boy we're gonna call Emo. I am friends with both of them, and they always seemed like a "couple goals" to other people. One day, Emo called me privately via text message telling they have broken up. I thought it was a prank, but no. He was so angry and I really noticed he wanted somebody to listen to him. Anyways, he spilled some hot tea about their relationship I didn't knew about. He said that she cheated on him a while ago and he forgave her after, but said the reason of this fight is because of some other reason. I'm not gonna tell the whole story, but I tought they were kinda both asses: he tought she was too promiscuous, and she seemed very emotional manipulative from the stories he told me. I was honest then: told him which parte they he was right and the parts I thought he was being an ass. Anways, something I noticed about princess is that she never told anyone about the end of their relationship. She and Emo were more distant in school and no one seemed to notice, but I did. Because I already knew. But here's the thing: I didn't told her I knew what was going on with her, because I wanted to wait her time. I wanted her to feel ready enough to open this up without feeling pressured. Some time passed, Emo was having a mental breakdown wanting her back, she didn't wanted him (which I don't blame her) and I gave him some emotional support via text so Emo wouldn't turn suicidal too. I was feeling bad for him actually, never saw that boy have such a heart to heart vent with me. And he really trusted me, he said I was a very kind person and should never change. Some time passed and Princess texted me out of the blue saying she wanted to talk. I was already suspicious about what would be. She finally told me she and Emo have broken up. Well, I wanted to be honest, so I didn't wanted to fake surprise. I said I already knew and I could feel she was very confused. I said Emo told me but that I never brought up the topic woth her because I was waiting her time, I wanted her to feel ready by herself. She gladly understood this part and where I was coming from. But she asked if Emo said anything more than just "hey, me and princess broken up" and I will admit, I panicked a bit. Honestly, I don't think it's my fault that I know everything about the cheating and their last fight: boy wanted somebody to talk and spilled everything from his heart, as a friend I listened to him. But as a friend I don't think I can expose his conversations with me to Princess because that would be gossip, so that's why I gave her this answer: "No, he just said you two broke up. Nothing more. I still don't know if I did the right thing. Part of me feels like she would feel horrible to know that I know all the things that happened to them (I mean, she didn't say to me those parts for a reason, right?) and I something I take very seriously in friendships is privacy and loyalty. I don't think is right to tell her about Emo's conversation with me, as much as I never told Emo about any chat I had with princess. They're both my friends, I have commitment to both of them.

But part of me feels like a straight up bitch about lying. I remember I went to sleep that night with my heart hammering in my chest. My mom says I am a good friend to both of them. But my best friend said she would give a different and 100% honest answer to princess if she was in my place.

Help me.

[pompomnium]

I have collected the cover designs of Bartimaeus sequence from as many countries as I am aware of. I have omitted some covers that have almost the same design, only the text has been localised. There are probably many more, but to be honest, it is so difficult to find works in languages other than my mother tongue... It may not be accurate with regard to countries either. If you know the correct answer or know of a design that is not here, it would be great if you could let me know! They are all unique and interesting designs.

[badaziraphaletakes]

In which some poor innocent unsuspecting reader submitted an ask and I respond by throwing an entire textbook at them

Like seriously i won’t even be upset if no one reads this PhD dissertation, like actually what is wrong with me omg

The ask:

I want to start by saying I love this account and really appreciate the rebuttals I see here to some of the messed up stuff the fandom’s spit out over the past few years. That being said, the most recent post about “the creepiest take you’ve ever seen,” was one I disagreed with strongly. It’s entirely normal to enjoy watching media where characters have breakdowns. It is not a desire to see a person breakdown. It is a desire to watch a good story.

(Edit: Just realized I somehow omitted to include the full text of the ask here. I apologize for the error! Will fix it soon. -Mod X)

My response:

Hi and thank you for your kind words! (Also idk why there is this huge gap in the text here, sorry haha!) If it were a necessary part of the story, or a part of the story that made sense, I would agree. But it’s not necessary (esp not at this point in the story) and therefore wouldn’t be “good”, if we are defining good art as being emotional truthful, which I imagine is a pretty uncontroversial definition.

Side note: We already saw him have this exact shattering breakdown in Uz. So that renders most of what I am about to say (and arguably some of what you have said) somewhat moot. But I’m going to continue anyway because some of the points brought up here touch on issues that I think bear re-visiting often.

It’s cathartic, it’s engaging, and it helps people who’ve been through the same thing see themselves reflected. For example, I like watching someone on tv hit rock bottom with their addiction because I’ve been through that, and seeing them finally realize they have to work on recovery and actually do it is motivating and empowering.

I’m so sorry you’ve been through that. I haven’t (although I am estranged from an entire side of my family due to alcoholism and meth addiction, which is a whole fun thing), so I can’t comment on this too much.

But addiction is not the same as an ab*sive relationship. (I do have knowledge of those, both from life experience and from my previous job in ab*se research. I edited a newsletter about family violence research for several years.) Seeing a person suffering from addiction realize they want to work on recovery, and realize that the substance they are addicted to is messing up their life, can make sense. Especially if they're in a place where they're able to work on it and have the opportunity to try to change.

But seeing an ab*se survivor “realize they need to get away from their ab*ser because they’re evil and have a breakdown about it” doesn’t make sense, because being trapped in an absive situation is not about “motivation” or what they think about the abser or even, really, about "empowerment". (Side note that word is thrown a lot to delude women into thinking our capitalist system is working for us rather than oppressing us. But I digress.) It boils down to the fact that they are in danger if they leave. The situation is not within their control.

(This next part is not directed at you, but at the general readership, in case this is helpful discussion for anyone: A lot of addictions aren’t within people's control at all either. It depends very much on the drug we’re talking about, the health of the individual, the quantity and duration of the addiction, whether the person has access to the healthcare they need to be cured, and whether there’s a way for them to get free from the broader societal dysfunctions that led to them being trapped in this situation in the first place.)

Also, with addiction, people can absolutely get past that without losing their sense of self and their identity. If they go through that kind of crisis in the process of healing from addiction, I would argue that something is very wrong. (Not with them, but with the society around them). In a best-case scenario, a person suffering from addiction would have access to the kind of mental and physical healthcare and support system that lets you get free from that without a shattering breakdown or loss of sense of self.

Besides, not everyone who has an addiction has toxic beliefs about themselves or their own identity or other people, etc etc. (Babies who are born addicted come to mind, if we want to talk about the most extreme example.) So I find the idea that addiction is down to toxic beliefs about one's self very suspect. I would argue that 95% of the time, addiction happens because your life sucks. The mental health community is starting to have this conversation about depression and anxiety - Cognitive Behavioral Therapy to work on one's "limiting beliefs" and "destructive thought patterns" can only do so much to help you feel better when your whole life is shit anyway. And it can actually make it WORSE if the victim is made to believe that their depression is the fault of their "Faulty thoughts" rather than a reasonable reaction to a shitty situation. Not necessarily saying we should throw CBT out the window altogether, but I am saying that mental healthcare will be a LOT more effective when it learns to truly take the broader societal context into account. I suspect, I hope, we'll soon be having a simialr conversation around addiction.)

And that’s doubly the case for ab*se survivors. They’re not stuck in that situation because there’s something wrong with them that they need to fix. They’re stuck in that situation because there’s something wrong with the ab*ser.

Regardless of the victim’s personal worth as an individual, regardless of whether they’re a good person or what-have-you, they don’t deserve to be ab*sed.

(I'm just waiting to hear about how some therapist tells a victim to work on their "limiting belief" that they need to stay with their ab*ser in order not to be killed, and/or tells them that fearing their ab*ser will kill them is a "cognitive distortion", and tells them to stand up to their ab*ser and/or leave, and then the ab*ser kills them. But I digress.)

And the loss of self when separating from a toxic system that’s defined your whole life is a real thing some people go through. It’s not bad consider that Aziraphale could also go through that, or to want to see that experience reflected.

I want to be very clear that I don’t have the smallest objection to people wanting to see that in a show. But a. that’s not what the person was saying, and b. they were also saying it’s necessary. IT’S NOT. I can’t emphasize this enough.

Loss of self is the worst-case scenario for how something like that goes. Nothing good comes from that. That is a side effect of ab*se (because the ab*ser’s the one who says that “Everything you are is bound up in me and you’re nothing with me"), not an integral part of the process of getting away.

Trauma is not necessary for character growth.

The way these things should go is that the person is able to gradually and mindfully work through the beliefs that are poisoning them with the help of a therapist, trusted friends, etc.

I know what I’m talking about. I worked in trauma research for over seven years. Please trust me on this one.

And again, Aziraphale can’t “separate” from them anyway. There’s nowhere he can go where they won’t find him. So his beliefs are irrelevant to his situation. And if the show implies that his beliefs “need to change” as part of the earth being set free from heaven-hell’s tyranny, or that he “needs to change” in order to be free, I will be writing a strongly-worded letter to the creators.

But more importantly, *they didn’t just say giddy.* They also said apprehensive. Perhaps they’re apprehensive because they know it could be painful to watch. Or because they don’t want to see it handled poorly.

“Giddily apprehensive” sounds an awful lot like “excited” to me. I admit it is ambiguous, though, so I’ll give you that one. I maintain that the OP expressed themselves with an exceptional lack of grace, however. And fwiw, they’d be FAR from the first person to want to see Aziraphale suffer because they are mad at him. I think I have good reason to believe that's what they're getting at here, given how many people in the poster's orbit say the same kinds of things and how many other things I've seen the OP say that are along those lines. I acknowledge I should have made that clearer in my original post.

They aren’t giving this advice (if one could call it that) to a human. They’re saying they’re excited to see a character breakdown. Character arcs like that are common and enticing for good reason.

I have yet to see a reason why I should believe that the things people say about Aziraphale are different than the things they say about people in real life.

I would point you to a couple lines down where you say yourself that we respond to characters the same way we respond to real people.

Personal growth ≠ character growth.

But what makes a good character is that they act like real people.

As an audience, character growth (even negative) is engaging.

Yes, absolutely. But we can absolutely do character growth in a way that does not spread harmful mindsets or misinformation about what ab*se and recovery from ab*se looks like. In fact, I would argue that character growth can’t happen if the writer doesn’t write the characters to behave in a way that is realistic to real life.

Characters follow the same rules, though. We respond to characters the same way we respond to real people. The same general rules of personal development and so forth apply.

The idea that “Aziraphale realizes his ab*sers are terrible” is something he needs to do for his “personal development” is highly objectionable. He doesn’t need to grow in this area. He just needs his ab*sers to leave him alone. Side note: We should give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he already does think they’re terrible and only stays with them because he is terrified. Even if this hadn’t been strongly and frequently hinted at in every episode going all the way back to S1E1 - almost every scene, in fact - we should still give him the benefit of the doubt.

Also, even if we say, for the sake of argument, that Aziraphale was a terrible, awful, horrible person - I know you’re not saying that, to be clear - even then, he still wouldn’t “need to realize his ab*sers are terrible” or “have a complete breakdown” or “lose himself” in order to grow. That's not how growth works. The best growth happens when people are at peace and safe and loved. Not frightened and confused and alone. He never chose them in the first place, he never wanted to be on their side. If he were left alone, he would just spend the rest of eternity reading his books and eating Eccles cakes and snuggling with his former-demon. That’s who he really is. There’s nothing about him as a person that needs to change. I agree a story where a person loses their sense of self after escaping from an ab*sive system would be interesting to watch, but I maintain that it does not make sense for the context of this particular story. And, such a story would NEED to make clear that the person wasn’t bad or wrong for deriving some part of their sense of self from the ab*ser and that they shouldn’t have had to have a catastrophic breakdown in order to develop their own sense of self. No one should have to go through that.

It’s not the same thing as asking for personal growth from a real human being.

Good characters do not operate according to different emotional and psychological rules than we do, though. If they didn't, we wouldn’t have millions of people sobbing about how real Aziraphale and Crowley feel to them. We would be the biggest dodos in the world if we were reacting this way to paper dolls 😄

Comparing the desire to see a character go through a dramatic storyline like that (and to come out of it strong and shining) to fundamentalist rhetoric is… just total bullshit.

You said this blog has been a good place for you and I want it to continue to be that way for you. So I want to give you a chance to revisit this part and see if you can say something more constructive. Because I've gotta admit, this really made me upset and I can't let it go without saying something. It’s not cool to call someone’s commentary “bullsh*t” like this.

I heard the line “we must die to ourselves” many, many times from the high-control religion of my childhood. It is a classic cult line. Hence why so many cults have "burial and rebirth" rituals, make people change their names, etc.

I am not just making up a comparison. This is a real phenomenon. Controlling ab*sers are the ones who’ve given us this idea that “death of the self” is character growth. It’s not. Character growth happens in spite of those excruciating emotional crises, not because of them.

Growing as a person is supposed to feel good overall. Not always easy, but on the whole, it should be a positive experience.

Also - Again, they said he “needs” to do it.

And they didn’t say anything about Aziraphale “coming out strong and shining”. You added that in. I think it's wonderful that you want to see that for him (so do I) but that’s not what this person was saying

If they'd said that, I wouldn't object to it at all. But they didn't. That part was left out. Which I think may be very telling in itself.

There are a myriad of reasons someone could have that desire, including having gone through something similar themselves.

Having gone through something similar doesn’t necessarily mean it makes sense for another character. It also doesn’t mean it’s necessary. And having been through something that went a certain way does NOT mean that it happening that way makes sense for someone else.

Deconstruction from a religious upbringing is different from leaving an ab*sive relationship

Aziraphale doesn’t have religious trauma. (I’m not going to talk much about religious trauma and deconstruction here, because it’s outside the scope of this blog, largely because - as attested by no less an authority than Neil Himself - Good Omens is not about religion. But I’ll say a little bit.)

Heaven and hell are not a “religion” in his world - they’re real. His fear of hell (and of heaven) is absolutely, one hundred percent, completely legitimate and appropriate, and NOT something he should be “reasoned” out of. Saying otherwise gives “your ab*ser isn’t actually that evil and scary”. But regardless, in either scenario, that kind of traumatic personal crisis is not a necessary part of the healing process. My heart aches for all the people whose deconstruction process was emotionally shattering. But what makes it ache even more is how for so many of them, the takeaway is somehow that that kind of crisis is necessary - rather than "dear god, i hope no one else ever has to go through that kind of hideous experience to get away from their shitty religion", which surely is what the takeaway should be (assuming there even is a lesson to be learned at all from an experience like that, which is doubtful) - and they go on to demand it of other survivors and gatekeep against people who haven't gone through the exact same thing they did in the process of getting away.

How, HOW did we get to a point where so many people’s deconstruction is a fucked-up, scarring experience that we think it’s inevitable for deconstruction to be that way????? I grieve.

I know the idea of killing one’s old self is inherently wrong to many people.

It’s not about whether it’s *wrong*. If that's valid for someone and they get where they need to be - you do you. It’s about the fact that it’s painful and it’s unnecessary to the process of growth.

Furthermore, it is the kind of thing ab*sers WANT to see happen to their victims when they leave. They want victims to think that they have to have that kind of crisis if they want to leave them. Because then they’re less likely to leave. When we encourage that kind of thinking, we are playing directly into their hands.

What should happen is that the victim should be given the opportunity to realize that all along there was much more to them than their ab*ser.

I don’t personally desire to watch Aziraphale do that, especially because there are so many wonderful aspects of the Angel he’s been since the beginning

Agreed.

But fwiw, this is giving a faint whiff of perfect victim syndrome. Even if he were an asshole, he still deserves to just have his ab*sers leave him alone, not to have some kind of shattering, soul-crushing emotional breakdown. They will always, always be worse than him.

but it’s not wrong to want to see that. People do go through it, and their stories are incredibly compelling.

I don’t disagree. For me it’s rather about the place this is coming from. OP was saying it’s necessary. There’s a difference between wanting to see a show address this issue overall because it’s interesting, and demanding that a specific character go through it because you think it’s necessary, or that their process of leaving and healing won't be legitimate (or whatever word we wanna use) if it doesn't happen.

And, as you said, it doesn’t make sense for Aziraphale. If the character is an asshole, I’d be able to see it a little more (although again, I still very much question the entire idea in the first place) But he's not an asshole. I find anyone’s thinking it “makes sense” for him to be highly questionable.

I know Aziraphale is much more than a character to many people

Speaking as a (very, very, very slightly, lol) professional writer and actor - every character should be “more than a character”, if they’re well-written. They should feel real if the writer and/or actor has done their job well. I like NG's line that "If you write someone who is utterly and completely themselves, you get people coming up to you and going 'Oh my God, you wrote my life!'

a desire to watch him go through a psychological breakdown is not some poorly concealed desire to watch real people go through that.

It may or may not be. I agree that it isn't always.

In this person’s case, though, I very much did get concerning vibes. Poorly concealed. (As an ab*se survivor, you start to know the vibe of victim-blamers after awhile.)

Regardless, though, the way we respond to characters is the way we respond to people in real life. Story is a primary vehicle through which people learn how to interact with one another and their environment. If it wasn’t, discussing media along these lines would be pointless, and I'd just spend all my time talking about how good David Tennant looks in those tight pants 😁 Or, probably, I would take up a different hobby altogether.

I wouldn’t have wasted my time starting this blog if the things people say about this story and especially about Aziraphale didn’t have real-world applications (not to mention making a lot of ab*se survivors feel very unsafe in the fandom - before we turned off anonymous asks, I got an average of two messages a day from ab*se survivors and other oppressed people telling them how this blog has made them feel so much safer in the fandom) - and if their views about the characters didn’t mirror the kinds of things they’d say about people in real life. (All the anti-Aziraphale autiphobic takes come to mind.) I flatter myself I have enough judgment that those takes wouldn't have troubled me so deeply if they weren't reflective of real-world societal problems and indicative of problematic attitudes in the people who write them.

In this case, the wording is identical to the kinds of problematic things people say about real-life victims/survivors. Yes, the person may not actually consciously want (or want at all) to see real-life ab*se victims/survivors suffer. But I absolutely, one hundred per cent guarantee you that anyone saying this has some major problematic biases/assumptions that are contributing to how ab*se survivors are maligned, degraded, and oppressed in our society. (I never want to see Disabled people suffer, but if I say ableist things, I’m contributing to it whether I mean to or not. I may not want to see women suffer, I am a woman, well more or less anyway lol, and I've identified as a feminist my entire adult life, but nevertheless there have certainly been times in the past when I've said sexist things. It's something all of us will always have to be vigilant against in ourselves. I suspect at this point I'm preaching to the choir, because you do not strike me at all as a bigoted or ignorant person, but I figured I'd re-iterate all that again anyway, because screaming it through a megaphone as often as possible is what this blog is for lol. :)

And what’s worse, they are spreading that rhetoric. I’ll be damned if I’ll let it go by without saying something.

Hope this makes sense and cleared some things up.

With love and respect,

Mod X.