#did you laugh at the punchline? be honest

[spectrechosts]

April Fools - Chapters 16-18

As one problem is resolved, another rears it's ugly head.

Full Series

DAY 16: AUTUMN WINDS

And just like that, the heatwave breaks.

The heavy, suffocating, overpowering summer air is swept away by autumn winds, and they carry with them the cool relief of change.

The Queen walks the gardens; admires the flowers before they're gone, the multicolored leaves before they fall. With her as always is the Knight, following a dutiful half-step behind.

And alongside them- not following per se, but orbiting; dancing around the two as if she follows her own path, but never straying from them- is the Fool.

The blooms aren't as beautiful as they were in the spring, but the Knight takes one and gives it to the Queen nonetheless. She takes it, and places a kiss on the Knight's offered hand.

The Fool darts in and takes the Knight's other hand, pressing her lips to it before twirling to the other side of the pair and doing the same to the Queen.

The Knight rolls her eyes as the Fool jingles nimbly away, and the Queen giggles, and all is as it should be.

~~~

DAY 17: MASQUERADES AND MARKS

"I know that I have been overly cautious in the past, but I would like to reiterate that this is a terrible idea."

"Nonsense!" Says the Queen, as she flits about overseeing preparations. "We always have a masquerade ball in the autumn, it's tradition!"

"Will you at least let me guard you?"

"My knight, it's a masquerade ball. If you're beside me the whole time, won't everyone know who I am?"

"Yes, but-"

"And won't I be safer, if I'm hidden?"

"I suppose, but-"

"Hang on-" Interjects the Fool. "You actually can't tell who's who behind those silly masks?"

The Queen tilts her head to the side.

"Weeeeeell, mostly." She says. "It depends on the mask. Mine is pretty good!"

The Queen demonstrates, and her mask is… okay.

It covers her entire face, sure, but there are other ways to identify someone. It's ornate, too ornate to be worn by at least half the attendees. Her hair isn't hidden, her voice is unmuffled- Not to mention all the things no mask could hide: Her height, her build; the Queen is small, not extremely so, but enough to narrow things down. These are all things that the Fool would use to pick out a mark at a masquerade, and so she must assume any would-be assassin will be at least as competent.

"Well, it does look rather fetching." She says. "But I wouldn't count on your anonymity."

The Knight snorts.

"And you're an expert on recognizing people by looking at them, aye?"

"This again? You know as well as I that she gives memorable kisses, I'm not shamed by my memory."

"You should be, methinks. As it is, you're liable to forget me entire."

"How awful that would be! Prithee, aid my recollection!" Says the Fool, sticking her tongue out.

~

The masquerade is wonderful, as it is every year. The Queen mingles, and dances, and makes merry. For one night a year, she isn't viewed by the rest of the nobility as some combination of pity case and obstacle to their own ambitions.

Her knight is around, somewhere. She wears the standard closed helmet of all the other royal guards on this night, and acts in a less personal capacity. She doubtless watches her even now, while she cannot be by her side.

The Fool is more noticeable. She wears no mask, for a jester's paint is mask enough. She is quite drunk, her movements lacking their usual grace and her mood raucous and joyful. She gambols through the crowd, stumbling and crashing into partygoers all the way.

"Quite some party, isn't it?" Says a masked figure beside her.

"Quite a party." The Queen agrees. "Though I dare say I'm not as jolly as Her Majesty's fool."

"I'm thankful for that, the wretched sot damn near bowled me over."

She giggles. "She seems the sort, yes."

"Yes, well, I won't waste your time with idle chatter." Says the masked figure. "Goodbye, Highness."

They walk past her, bumping shoulders as they do. She feels them jab something into her stomach, then smoothly drop it and continue moving.

She blinks and looks down.

The remnants of a banana, mashed flat against her skin, lay on the ground.

"Uh..?" She says, taking a moment to parse what's just happened.

"…What." Whispers the figure, having felt something was off and looked back at their very much unharmed target. They scramble for a weapon, grabbing a knife off a nearby table before the Knight crashes into them, pinning them to the ground.

The Queen just stands there, frozen with shock. "Oh." She says. "Oh my. Oh no, oh no no no no."

She feels a guiding hand at her back, and the Fool shepherds her into a seat as the crowd retreats and gawks.

"Keep calm, Your Majesty. You're safe." She says.

"Oh, oh my poor knight, she's going to be so upset." Says the Queen, shaking her head, and the Fool chuckles.

"You're really something else, you know that?" She says, sitting down beside her and pulling a snack out of her coat. She takes a bite, and then holds it out to the Queen.

"Banana?" She asks, and the Queen squints at her.

~~~

DAY 18: STILETTO AND CROWN

The Fool plinks her confiscated stiletto point down into the table, leaving it stuck.

"Lifted it off 'em a couple minutes before. Didn't like how they watched the crowd."

The Knight picks it up to inspect.

"Doesn't look magic." She says. "Poisoned?"

"Probably?" Says the Fool, shrugging. "Seemed pretty certain they could just stick her and walk away."

The Knight sighs shakily.

"Thank you, truly. I don't know what I would have done, if not for you."

"Don't mention-"

The Fool is cut off by a quick punch to her shoulder.

"Wh- ow!"

"Idiot clown! Did you not think perhaps to accost them!?"

"Hey!" Whines the Fool. "We aren't all armored brutes! You would have me tackle an assassin?"

"Not tackle." Hisses the Knight, and the Fool blinks.

"Oh!" She says. "Well, you should have said before. I assumed you would want them jailed, all proper like."

The Knight grumbles, and the Fool gently places a hand over hers.

"She's safe, fair knight. They failed."

"They failed this time." The Knight counters.

"And every failure makes it harder for them to try again. We'll get her through this, just-"

The Fool pauses.

"Hang on."

She quickly strides to the door to the Queen's chambers and pulls it open, and the Queen stumbles into her arms.

"You are meant to be in bed, my sickly sweet." The Fool says softly, wiping sweat from her brow.

Her Majesty doesn't do well in the damp cold of autumn. Illness abounds, and hits her harder than most. In the wake of the ball she is wracked with fever and an awful, wet, cough.

"I can hear you, talking out here." She says. "But I can't make out the words from my bed. 's infuriating."

"I'm sorry, Majesty. We'll be quieter; please, try to rest." The Knight says, and she tries to guide the Queen back into bed only to be shooed away by a weakly flailing arm.

"Nooo!" Mumbles the Queen. "'m fine, let me listen." She insists, as she escapes both of their grips and slumps against the doorframe. "Have you gotten anything out of my would-be killer?"

The Knight grimaces, watching the Queen slide slowly downward.

"Here, we can move the conversation into your room-" She starts, and the Queen shoos her away again.

"No! I like it here. I want to be on the floor." She says, and the Fool shrugs, and the Knight begrudgingly lets her be as she finishes her slow descent. "Mm. Floor time."

She fetches a thin sheet from the Queen's bed and drapes it over her before continuing.

"They won't talk. Say they'll just wait for the new king to let them go."

"New king, eh?"

"Tell 'em I'll let them go if they tell us. No hard feelings." Murmurs the Queen.

"King, yeah. Which narrows things down, but not a lot. We can rule out any unmarried women, for this assassination plot anyway."

"And if they don't tell us, then we have 'em executed right now. See their king save 'em from that." She continues, half listening.

"Well if we solve this assassination plot hopefully anyone else thinking about it will think twice." Says the Fool.

The Knight grunts. "'Hopefully' is doing a lot of work, there."

"Could I have some water please?" Asks the Queen, after a short coughing fit; and her knight is up before she's finished asking.

"Of course, I'll be right back Highness."

She leaves, and the Fool joins the Queen on the floor.

"Hello, Your Majesty."

"Hello, my charming fool." The Queen says, smiling weakly. "I didn't tell you. The banana thing, where you stole their knife and replaced it with a banana? That was funny."

"Thank you, Highness."

"Tried to kill me with a banana, how absurd."

"I know, Highness." Says the Fool, straight-faced. "That shit was bananas."

[endless-ineffabilities]

eclipsed (Aemond Targaryen x f!reader)

You loved him. He didn't feel the same. Until everything changed – but is it too late?

main masterlist ▪︎ word count: 1.7k

a/n: I envisioned modern Aemond as I was writing this. Also, the usual taglist is sadly not included for this spontaneous oneshot. I trust that the angst will find you if it's meant to be!

Aemond Targaryen was once everything to you. 

Your guiding light. Your sun and your stars. You knew you had a heart, you knew it was beating true, because it worshipped him with such a ferocity that would put a devotee to shame. Nothing and no else compared. You would have been content to simply exist in his orbit, to watch as he lived and loved.

He loved you too. You knew that. But as a brother loved a sister, as a friend loved a friend. 

And all kinds of love were meant to appear dim and pale in comparison to what he felt for Alys.

He doted on her. She was everything to him. She was his guiding light, his sun and stars. You could never compare. 

It was an unbearable truth, one you had tried for too long to ignore, but there came a time when you reached your breaking point. One evening, you asked to meet him. You knew you were about to ask for so much more – you were asking for something he could never offer.

You were asking to be seen. 

You could no longer sit idly by, watching the sun shine on the world while the moon was left in the shadows.

When you confessed, his reaction was as callous as it was predictable. Aemond laughed in disbelief, as though your words were at the end of some punchline. “Okay,” he said dismissively, “I love you too.”

“No.” You shook your head, looking away. You had to bite your lip to keep the tears from falling. “I love you, Aemond.”

“Yes, I know,” he smiled, taking a step closer, grimacing when you put your hands up to stop him from reaching out for you.

“I’m in love with you.” You had to take a deep breath before you continued. “I love you. Maybe you knew all along. Maybe you didn’t. But you have to know that.”

There it was, suspended in the atmosphere between the two of you, before the inevitable crash and crumble. 

“I don’t get it, darling.” He exhaled roughly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You love me?”

“What don’t you get?” Your voice came out sharper than intended, but you couldn’t be anything but honest. 

“I… this is… but you’re like a sister to me!” 

“Oh, fuck off, Aemond.” You waved his words away, trying to dampen just how brutal they stung. Just how much they cut deep. 

“Well, then,” he sneered, his eyes darkening with a defensive anger. “Thanks for that.”

“Is that…” You met his eyes once more, that heart-wrenching shade of blue. “Do you have anything else to say?”

His gaze hardened. “I’m with Alys.”

“I know that.”

“I love Alys.” He spat the words out like they were meant to be a scolding. Didn’t you know this? What exactly were you expecting from him? That he would cry and take you in his arms? I love you too… I love you too… I always have…

“I know that too.” The first bitter tear fell down your cheek. You inhaled sharply, wiping at your face with the back of your sleeve. You began pacing in an attempt to get a hold of your nerves. You did not want to have a complete breakdown in front of him. But then again, the worst has already happened. How much more humiliation could there possibly be?

“I’m sorry, darling.” His voice softened as he reached for you again, and this time, when you resisted, he simply caught your arms gently and pulled you against him. “Truly, I am. You have no idea.”

He held you, however long you needed to be held. He was good like that, he always has been. But it felt like a cruel comfort – mere scraps of affection when you wanted the entire feast. 

“I do love you, you know,” he murmured into your hair, his voice soothing as it broke your heart anew. “Always, I promise.”

And he did. 

But it was never going to be enough.

You were the moon to his sun, forever watching from a distance, knowing you would never truly share the same sky.

Aemond rarely saw you after that night. A week passed, then two, then a month. The silence between you stretched longer than he had expected, but still he thought nothing of it. Perhaps you were simply giving each other space, allowing the awkwardness to settle.

But then, when he tried seeking you out, there were no responses. He found out from a mutual friend that you had moved to another region. There was a promising work opportunity, apparently, one that had been too good to pass up.

You just conveniently failed to mention this to him. 

You drifted from his life without warning, and Aemond was not prepared for how deeply it would hurt. How lost he would feel. He was out of orbit, reeling, mourning the ghost of someone who still lived, but seemingly no longer wanted anything to do with him.

Alys was not blind to it. But there was nothing she could do. She could only watch as Aemond’s light began to dim, gradually fading until it barely reached her. She had no choice but to stand by as he became a hollow version of the man whom she thought loved her so fiercely.

An entire year passed before Aemond saw you again. 

It happened by chance, or perhaps some cruel twist of fate. You were there, with your adorable flushed cheeks and smile as bright as the sun. He did not know what to expect, but there you were, hugging him like the long lost friend he had become.

You looked better than ever, while he was barely getting by. 

“You look like you could use some sun, Aem,” you remarked lightheartedly, noticing how pale he got. “I can’t believe it’s been so long.”

You appeared carefree, but all Aemond could feel was the weight of the past year pressing down on him. 

“You left me,” he spat out before he could help himself. It sounded like an accusation, like a wound that never healed. How could you?

“I did leave, yes,” you say tentatively, confused by the venom in his tone. “But I don’t think I left you.”

“What would you call it then?” His tone was bitter, bordering on desperate. 

“I moved away,” you shrugged. “It happens. Friends move away, they move on.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” he muttered. His hands clenched at his sides when what he truly wanted was to reach for you.  

“I had to,” you replied, your voice quieter. “It was the only way.” 

Aemond frowned, his gaze fixed on your face, searching for something he couldn’t quite name. "The only way for what?"

You spoke again, slower, “It was the only way to get over you.”

He was hanging by a thread, and right then, he became untethered.

“I loved you, Aemond,” you continued. “And I couldn’t just stay there and watch you be in love with someone else. I’m sorry, but I had to leave. It was the only thing I could do to save myself.”

Your words hit him like a blow. He stared at you, the one who had been everything to him once – his anchor, his confidante, the one constant in his life. If only he hadn’t been too goddamn stupid to realise it then.

You reached over and squeezed his hand. He looked down and without thinking, he interlaced his fingers with yours. He felt you hesitate for a moment – a brief second where you considered pulling away – before you gave in.

The old you wouldn’t have given it a second thought. The old you would have held onto Aemond with everything you had, believing that if you just stayed close enough, he’d realise what was right in front of him.

But you were different now. Everything was different – no sunshine, just grey – because you said that you loved him.

Loved. Not anymore.

The roles were reversed, and maybe he deserved it. The bitter irony wasn’t lost on him as you pulled your hand away, offering him a soft, understanding smile. 

“And Alys?” you asked suddenly, your voice gentle but curious. "How is she?”

He stiffened. A part of him thought that staying with Alys was his path forward, the thing that would make sense of the chaos in his life. But it hadn’t. Not really. 

“We’re not together anymore,” Aemond finally admitted.

You blinked, visibly surprised. “Oh. I’m… I’m so sorry, Aemond. I didn’t know.”

He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It wasn’t… meant to be.”

You studied him, your brows furrowing in concern. “Even so, I know it’s hard,” you said softly, your voice full of empathy. “Breakups are… They’re never easy. But there’s someone out there for everyone. I truly believe that. I mean… I found someone, didn’t I?”

His entire body tensed, his breath hitching as his mind tried to process the full weight of your statement. You had found someone. You had moved on. There was the proof, hitting him right in the face. 

He had lost you. For good.

“You… found someone,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it more real.

“Yes. I did.” There was a tenderness in your voice, but it only twisted the knife deeper. “He’s wonderful, Aemond. He’s kind, supportive. I didn’t think I’d find something like this after – ” you paused, glancing away for a moment before meeting his gaze again, “after everything.”

“Are you in love?” The words came out before he could stop them, his voice tight with something like despair. He hated himself for asking, for needing to know, but the question was out there now, and he couldn’t take it back.

“Aemond.”

“Can you tell me this, at least? Do you… love him?”

There was a long pause, as if you were choosing your words carefully, and when you finally spoke, the answer was clear. “More than anything.”

You had become someone else’s sun. Someone else’s guiding light.

And he was the moon, forced to watch and drift in shadow. 

For the first time in his life, Aemond Targaryen understood what it meant to lose everything.

[lxvvie]

When you sit Alex down and tell him you want a divorce, it's crickets.

Silence. Absolute silence.

And then he scoffs, somewhere between disbelieving and amused by your joke, until he realizes it isn't a joke and those stormy blues are holding you in place with their intensity.

Keller looks at you, really looks at you. Looks at one eye and then the other, studying you, analyzing you, and after a minute, his brow furrowed some.

"You serious, Boss?" He expected a punchline, the other shoe to drop just short of its intended target like it always did, but all you did was bite your lip nervously and nod. A divorce. You wanted a divorce.

What the fuck?

Alex barked out a laugh. Short, forced, and maybe a little heartbroken if he's being honest but it's enough to get his point across. And then he's back looking at you again, really looking at you, taking you in, and—

"Good one, Boss."

It's like your words didn't really reach Alex at all. You swallowed that lump in your throat and tried again. "Alex, I'm serious—"

He got up and pressed a kiss to your temple. It was soft. He gave you another one on your cheek. It was equally soft. And they both ended the conversation.

"You're stuck with me, Boss," and Alex, your Alex, smiled, crinkles galore, all dashing, adorable, and lovestruck, the same smile that won you over and the same smile that would keep you. "Dinner's in five, okay?" Another kiss on your temple, quick and passing as Keller made his way to the kitchen. And there you were, left with your joke.

Good one, Boss.

[paimonial-rage]

parody - cyno

leftovers from the [random writing event]

“General Mahamatra,” you began one day on a patrol of Ardravi Valley. “Although there definitely are dangerous creatures in Sumeru, I have to say that a lot of them are quite cute, especially in groups. Do you know which one is the most affectionate?”

His brow furrowed in a way that made your heart soar. He was thinking about it! He was giving it honest thought! This was it! This was the moment you’d finally succeed.

“Affectionate? I suppose Shroomboars and Rishboland Tigers do take care of their young…” He mused.

You hummed.

“Well, I suppose so. But personally, I think it’s the fungi.”

His brow raised.

“Oh? Why is that?”

You spun around to face him with a playful grin on your face.

“Well, it’s because they love each other so mush!”

There it was! The punchline! The moment that you spent the past twelve hours waiting for! You set up the joke and he fell for it beautifully. It had everything he could ask for. A good build up! A great play on words. And a performance to boot. And thus here would be the moment. You would finally get him to–

“I see.” He began in thought with a hand against his chin. “You substituted ‘mush’ in mushroom for ‘much.’ Hmm… not even I thought about that.”

After he contemplated your joke for a few moments, your jaw dropped as he then took out a small notebook from his pocket and began jotting who knew what inside. The smile that joyously captured your expression from before soon began to twitch at the edges.

“W-Wasn’t it funny?” You asked hesitantly.

He looked up from his book and nodded with the straightest face imaginable.

“Extremely. I find it upsetting I didn’t think of it first. The whole matra has been getting better at jokes. If I’m not careful, I’ll have my title taken away from me.”

“But you’re… that wasn’t supposed to…” Your shoulders dropped. “Never mind…”

Never did you think a fun bet you made with the rest of the matra would be so difficult. It was such a simple thing too. The first person that got the General Mahamatra Cyno to laugh would have free drinks for a week. Nobody thought it would be that hard. Though he wasn’t the most expressive, he did love terrible jokes. Surely he would be happy to get a taste of his own medicine.

But much to your dismay, your lighthearted jokes only seemed to bother Mahamatra Cyno, as much as he told you otherwise. In the back of your mind, you knew the reason why he held onto jokes so much. He only started telling them to relax the rest of the Matra. Still, you wished your jokes would help him to relax too instead of making him feel like you were trying to take his place.

As he walked on ahead to scope out the rest of Pardis Dhyai, you hurried to catch up to him. One more joke. You would try one more joke until you called it quits.

“Out of all the forest animals, though,” you began. “I think I’d prefer to hang out with the mushrooms the most.”

He turned to you raising a brow, “‘Hang out?’ Don’t you think that’s a bit dangerous?”

You shrugged.

“Yeah, but they’re just such fungis. You know. Fun-guys?” You added with a wide smile at the end. But just like before, his expression turned to that of confusion, contemplation, then jealousy.

“First, be honest with me,” he began as he took your shoulders with a look of intensity upon his face. “Are you and the rest of the matra looking to replace me as the resident jokester? Because if so…”

He then dropped to his knees, prompting a gasp of shock from you.

“I will not take this standing–”

“What are you doing!” You exclaimed as you tried to pull him back up. “The General Mahamatra can’t kneel before a lowly matra. The ground is dirty too–”

He cleared his throat.

“I said, I will not take this standing.”

You stared at him.

He stared back.

You stared more.

He looked right back into your eyes.

“Do you get it? The reason why I sat is because–”

“Yeah, I get it,” you sighed. “Now stand up already, please. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

“You’re right,” he said with a nod as he stood. “I must always be outstanding in my field.”

You shook your head as you made your way forward, leaving your boss behind. You did your best to ignore the way frustration filled your gut. The fact that you almost laughed at his lame jokes only served to heighten your irritation. He wasn’t supposed to be making you laugh. You were supposed to be doing that to him. But instead of playing along, he got competitive and decided to one up you instead.

With the wind in your sails gone, you did your best to keep the pout from your lips as you continued on your patrol. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were irritated. With him. And with the way he noticed your irritation and was trying to appease you by burying you with even more lame jokes made your irritation even worse. By the end of the patrol, it was only inevitable that you were about ready to burst.

Thankfully, the General Mahamatra was not so obtuse so as to not catch onto the tension in the air.

“First,” he began at the end of the patrol, “I… apologize. I was trying to make you laugh, but it seems I’ve only accomplished the opposite. Forgive me.”

But somehow instead of calming you down, the apologetic expression on his face only threw you into even more of a frenzy.

“No, that’s not what I– Mahamatra Cyno, you– Why are you apologizing? I’m the one that should be apologizing!” You exclaimed. “This whole time I was trying to get you to laugh, but all I accomplished was making you upset. And then I got mad at you because you didn’t do what I wanted. I was the immature one in this situation!”

He paused.

“You… were trying to get me to laugh?”

You ran a hand through your hair in frustration.

“Me and the whole matra! At first it was for free drinks for a week, but we do genuinely want to make you laugh. You try so hard to make us feel comfortable, so we only wanted to do something for you in return. But…” You sighed as your shoulders dropped. “Who would’ve thought with all the bad jokes you enjoy telling, you don’t like them getting told to you in return.”

“So that’s why you all were telling me so many jokes this past week,” he hummed.

He glanced down as his hand went to his chin in thought. Then after a few moments, he looked back up with a resolute nod.

“Very well. Then for my fellow matra, I shall make more of an effort to laugh,” he announced.

“You can’t do that! We’ll know if you don’t mean it! We’ll be able to tell!!” You cried.

He nodded. “I see. Then I’ll study more jokes to learn what makes them so funny, then I’ll share them with the rest of you.”

Your jaw dropped.

“But you already do that!”

“If that’s the case… I’ll conduct a study with the rest of the matra to research what they find funny, analyze the findings, then fit them into the framework of my sense of humor. That should solve the problem, shouldn’t it?”

“Why would you– Do you even have the time to do all that work!? You shouldn’t be trying that hard just to make us happy! Besides, we–”

He chuckled.

“First, I’m joking.”

You froze.

“You… That’s not…” You turned away with a pout, ears burning. “That was a horrible joke.”

“But you made me laugh, didn’t you?”

You snorted.

“It wasn’t worth the amount of emotional turmoil you put me through. Wait till I let everyone know that the General Mahamatra’s sense of humor is bullying people,” you announced, stomping away, doing your best to ignore the way he was laughing behind you.

[alitheakorogane]

Freedom's Protection: A Blasphemy or The Truth?

Summary: Venti's outburst shocks everyone, making the people of Mondstadt question everything they knew about their Archon.

This is the third part of Mondstadt's storyline for the Reader Protection Squad SAGAU series.

Note: There are instances of grammatical errors, please bear with me. Also, the entire layout was now changed and I placed a title on them so I could not be confused while I write the next chapters. It's still the same story though.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3 (current), 4, 5, 6, 7

"What if your dear Anemo Archon was also like them, an imposter who also steals someone's face?!"

-------------

Everyone couldn't believe what the young bard was saying, especially those who are very devoted to Lord Barbatos. The Anemo Archon is also an imposter?

Bennett and Fischl who accompanied him looked at Venti with surprised looks on their faces, while Razor was confused about what happened. On the other hand, you were shocked at what the bard did, even though you had expected him to do something stupid after Eula's harsh statement regarding imposters.

To be honest, you can understand why the usual happy and mischievous bard suddenly snaps out and break down at everyone. Eula's statement may be intended for you but it also applies to Venti's situation, and her scathing words hit the Anemo Archon on a personal level. You guessed that not everyone knows his real story, not even his very devout followers in his church, as you had remembered that only the Traveler was the one who had truly opened up about his real feelings of loss by telling his story about his bard friend in his story quest.

They didn't know who he really is... because all knowledge that the Mondstadters knew about their beloved Archon is from secondary sources, from the words of other people, and not really from Venti himself.

They never knew how hard is to pretend to be someone he really isn't. You know it wasn't his choice to rule a nation, since Andrius had stepped down from being a suitable candidate but Venti had tried his best to fulfill the wishes of his beloved friend before he had died: for Mondstadt to be free.

Mondstadters from the past to the present saw his Archon persona in rose-colored glasses, portraying him as regal, poised, and hardworking as his people (they were also overworked because they thought they can emulate Lord Barbatos' 'hardworking' work ethic) who value the concept of freedom over his domain, not knowing that their Archon is actually a happy-go-lucky troublemaker who has the heart of gold, who really likes apples and Dandelion Wine to the point of breaking the records for most shots a Mondstadter can drink in one go, or how he likes to annoy people with his songs and pranks when he feels like it.

You had sympathized with him, as you and he are similar in some aspects. You always force a bright smile on your face and feel optimistic, even though there are times that you feel like you wanted to give up on everything. You can crack jokes over your so-called friends, laugh at the corniest punchlines, and put up some masks on other people, saying to them that you're okay even though it really isn't.

There is a reason why you loved playing Genshin Impact, it's not because of the waifus or husbandos or you just want to have fun and spend over nothing, but it was an escape from your loneliness and the reality. You feel loved when the game greeted you on your birthday before anyone can and was given you a digital cake even though you know it was coded to be like that. You feel happy when your favorite character had come home and when you listened to their voice lines where they said something good about you.

You think that someone took pity on you and whisk you away to the beautiful continent of Teyvat, but it seems that there's a mistake. The moment you were spat at by the same characters you really loved, you feel like you were really unloved by anyone no matter what world you've been thrown in. You're not suicidal, but at that moment, the urge to throw yourself off the cliff and unto the waters of Cider Lake to drown was very strong.

So when you met Bennett, Razor, and Fischl for the first time and they had befriended you no matter what others say something bad about you, you feel happy that someone had accepted you the way you are, and you wanna cry with tears of joy.

And when Venti, the actual Anemo Archon of Mondstadt, came to your rescue, you feel like you were lucky that someone out there still appreciated your existence. You silently thank whoever is above that gives you some mercy over this forsaken world.

Meanwhile, Barbara Pegg, the lovely Deaconess of the Church of Favonius, couldn't help but ponder over what the bard had said. You had noticed how she was not as defensive as the other nuns present, but you just brushed it off as she was just in shock. You were unfortunately wrong about your assumptions, for you underestimated her just because you know from her game appearances that she was oblivious to her Archon being literally meters away from her.

She may be a devout follower of the Anemo Archon, but as a Gunnhildr, she had access to a certain diary of one of their ancestors living at the time of Decarabian, along with her older sister Jean.

She remembered a passage regarding a wind elf and his human friend who died in the rebellion, after her mother, Frederica, had let her read the family heirloom after Barbara joined the church as a Deaconess.

"The young leader had unfortunately passed away by a stray arrow to the heart, the winds took away his young life so early. We were devastated to see the one who had awakened our hearts and fought for freedom die in the rebellion against Lord Decarabian, but no one grieves more than the Elf, who was with him till the end. The Elf has done the unthinkable after they had ascended into a god by Celestia: they had taken the form of his human friend so he could see the free world under the eyes of the Elf, who was now under the name of Barbatos, the new Anemo Archon of Mondstadt."

Imagine Barbara's surprise when she found out about that, she had never read this information in any Mondstadt history books or tomes she had come across. She knew that her ancestor had been part of the first Mondstadt rebellion against Lord Decarabian, so she could assume that it was a legitimate source.

At the time, she can't believe that Lord Barbatos' current form seen in the statues isn't his, to begin with, for it was based on his human friend who had died in the first rebellion. Today, she had doubts about the issue, especially when the bard had brought it up.

"If that's the case, then it's true that Lord Barbatos is technically an imposter, just like how Mr. Bard had said," she thought to herself, "But how he known about that if that information isn't in the books I have ever read about our Archon? Did I miss a book?"

She looked at her older sister who was still standing with Diluc with a troubled look in her eyes like she was pondering about something. She ever wondered if Jean still remembered the contents of the diary or knew something about Venti. As far as she was concerned, Venti knew the Honorary Knight, Jean, and DIluc personally due to their involvement during the Stormterror crisis.

She knew that Venti can summon Dvalin, one of the Four Winds, when they went to the Golden Apple Archipelago months ago. He is also the only one she can't heal with her Hydro Vision, the first time since she had been blessed by the gods. He had an angelic voice and an exceptional talent for playing the lyre, which to be honest, Barbara was slightly jealous of. And he just recently appeared on Mondstadt, which was coincidentally the time when Dvalin, known as Stormterror that time, had attacked Mondstadt.

Who really is Venti anyway?

"Blasphemy!" One of the nuns screamed as her fellow comrades and citizens agreed with her, "Lord Barbatos isn't an imposter, you blasphemous child. How dare you speak to the Archon that way?!"

"History books had never told the Anemo Archon's whole story!" Venti continued as he lowered his bow down, his right arm wiping the stray tears on his cheeks. You wanted to comfort him, to hug him in your arms, but the situation was so tense that you prefer not to, for now.

"You just knew him because of those books and those spoken stories that always praise him! And in every single one of them, he was portrayed as a divinity who committed no mistakes and made some exceptional deeds just because he is an Archon. You may think that he is perfect, but news flash people, he's not! He's as flawed as any other mortal out there! He should have saved his dear friend if he was as perfect and powerful as you think he was!"

He was glaring at the people in front of him, his aqua-green eyes glowing in intensity, "You had never known that he was originally a wind wisp who had taken the form of a dead friend to honor a wish. He had never saved his dear friend... if only that blasted wind wisp was a second too early, his friend wouldn't have died in the rebellion! That friend of his was the one who started the peak of the rebellion, who had sang songs of freedom, and guess what, no one remembers his name or even his sacrificial deeds!"

Venti closed his eyes as he continued speaking, a look of nostalgia etched in his eyes as he stared at the skies above, "Freedom was given to all of you due to a sacrifice of a human who was now forgotten by history, but his face... his young face now lived on under the facade of Lord Barbatos. Without the bard's final wish, Lord Barbatos would never make freedom his ideal for Mondstadt..."

"...He would never have been the weakest among the Seven Archons if he had never fulfilled his dear friend's dying wish."

"And how would you know about that? Why would you try to defame Anemo Archon Barsibato just to manipulate our minds about the imposter?!" Rosaria harshly interrogated Venti who just spewed some blasphemous information about their Archon, her polearm pointed at the bard.

The nuns of the Church of Favonius had deadpan looks on their faces over Rosaria's mistake over Lord Barbatos' name, while the citizens who believed in the Archon glared at Venti for his statement.

To their surprise, the young Anemo user smiled at them, but they could guess that he was actually smirking. He chuckled as he bowed his head, bangs covering his beautiful eyes. It left people confused and scared, especially the Knights and the Church nuns. They had never seen this side of the bard who they have just known to be as mischievous and happy-go-lucky all the time.

You felt chills when you see his smirk, as you had an image of a young-looking boy with angelic wings who looked at the people with a menacing smile, the bow on his hands was stained in blood. You then realized that you had seen a glimpse of Venti in his Archon form, and it was possible that it was him in the Khaenri'ah disaster 500 years ago!

His Elegy of the End bow was still on his hand as he dared to respond with a playful tone at the young nun, staring at her with a coldness that could rival someone with a Cryo Vision, as if he was scolding a young misbehaving child, "You could say that I am more than just a mere drunkard bard, Miss Rosaria."

"After all, how could I ever spread blasphemous words about myself?"

--------------

BADASS VENTI IS LIFE.

Well, this is Part 3 of the Reader Protection Squad series of one-shots, where someone is trying to protect the Reader from being pelted down by the Divine Creator's obsessive acolytes.

This one was also cut into two parts, so there is a possible Part 4 regarding Venti helping you off. (sigh) I think I will do a full-blown fanfic if I kept this up. I also write the Reader's inner thoughts, based on my experience. I couldn't help but shed a tear when I wrote this part.

To those who are new to my story, in this series, Venti is part of your protection squad in this Imposter AU concept, one of the two Archons who are going to help you. He is usually the mischaracterized character in SAGAU fics, and I wanted to do justice to my boi's character.

I made Barbara more perceptive than she was on canon, because why not? I made her a book enthusiast, she likes to read books in her free time just like her older sister (if she is not busy with her idol work, practice, healing, and church duties). Her possible favorite books are about Lord Barbatos and his deeds to Mondstadt.

And here's Rosaria and her mishaps with Venti's Archon name...🤣

-----

Taglist: @eimuros, @vvyeislazzy, @ansyistiredsstuff, @haru-tofuu, @coquettemaiden, @voidlesslove, @depressed-bitchy-demon, @yuukaaariyuuu, @g3n0dtt, @misswitchthewindborn, @lumpywolf, @c00kie-cat, @mulandi, @genshin-impacts-me, @bloop-booop

[primrosechronicles]

Sky Cotl x ISAT Fanfic!

Performance Guide and Siffrin (strictly platonic)

Summary: The performance guide and Their moth meet again Warnings: Nothing that I can think off...? Word Count: 1784 PART 2 HERE

You step into the backstage of the village theater, taking a moment to appreciate all the preparations you and your crew did to make the theater more accessible to both moths and citizens alike. It took a lot of hard work, from assembling the stage to ensuring the levers operated properly. Despite the challenges, it was all worth it for the grand opening of the theater. 

You carefully walk up the stairs behind the levers, with the lively chatter of your beloved crew filling your ears.

“Director!” The crew’s resident dancer quickly stands up and crosses the room towards you.

“Dancer.”  You greet back. a smile creeping up your face. “What are you guys doing?”

“Me and the crew were discussing some things to put in your comedy!”

You tilt your head curiously “Any particular reason why..?” 

“We, uh, wanted to shake off the nerves... You know, we're all pretty jittery about tomorrow…” They shake their head “And! And.. you looked like you had a hard time figuring out the punchlines..”

You smile and give them a pat on the shoulder “Thank you.. And to be honest I'm nervous as well…”

“Well let's be nervous together!” They giggle joyfully, grab your hand, and lead you toward the group.

You sit with your crew and you observe the Stagehand frantically calculating the materials needed for the props and your Storyteller conversing with the Musician, though they seem to forget that the comedy is a.. Comedy.

“How about you, Dancer? Do you plan on writing a play? I'm sure you would be very good at it.” You ask.

Your Dancer shakes their head “Oh no! I could never make a play as well as you or the storyteller…”

“Oh don't be modest, Dancer.. I'm sure whatever you write will be wonderful.”

They smile at you and go back to continue whatever they did before approaching you. You sigh contently, you love being like this, being surrounded by the people you love, you could live like this forever.

Hand in hand with your crew and cast members, you all bow. The sound of whistles, cheers and honks fills the ears of your cast. You look at your audience, their smiles fill you with joy as you are reminded of why you and your crew decided to make the theater.

Your Musician begins to play a mellow melody as your Stagehand hands you the mic. The rest of the cast quietly slips offstage.

“My beloved audience.. Welcome! To the village theater.” you pause then breathe in and out. “As I stand here before you, I'm filled with gratitude for your support and for the opportunity to bring stories to life on this stage.” 

You continue “This is a place to play many parts, whether it be to play music.. Or to dance… or to tell stories!” you turn to your crew and smile gratefully at them.

“This is the Season of Performance! So come and share your vision with us all!” The audience erupts into applause and cheers, giving your crew a successful opening night.

You smile as you and your Storyteller converse with the audience members.

“--And the part when the girl almost got caught by the krill! It was so terrifying I was at the edge of my seat!” You laugh in response “Hah! Yea, our musician did an amazing job on the music on that part!” “There was a krill part…?”

You smile wider as more audience members praise the work of you and your crew, but then something catches your eye in your peripheral vision. You take a closer look and notice a mother gesturing at you while her child, embarrassed, tries to run away. You deduct from the child's age that they’re a moth, but they aren’t dressed how moths usually look? Instead of the usual brown cape, it is replaced with a white one, with smooth ends instead of the uniform jagged edges that make it resemble actual wings. Two pins are placed just below their chin, pulling the whole look together.

You walk up to them and kneel to be at eye level with the kid. “Hello! Did you enjoy the show?” The child jumps slightly, startled, then slowly nods. “I did…”

Their mother whispers in their ear “Tell them what you told me.” The child looks at their mom, nodding with slightly more confidence. “Uhm! I wanna do what you do! I wanna make stories and-and! Pretend it on there!” The child slowly lifts a trembling finger to point towards the stage, their eyes shining with a nervous excitement.

You turn to the mother “Ma’am, are you perhaps from the village of dreams?”

“Oh no.. We're actually staying at a relative's house right now to check out the new season."

"For how long...?" you ask, as an idea begins to take shape in your mind.

“About 1 or 2 months, my relatives love having us around and they usually prepare for us to stay for 3 months but there's something urgent I have to get back to by then..”

You smile and turn back to the kid “Welcome to the Season of Performance” You slowly place the season pendant around their neck “I hope to see you often during the months that you're here?” The little moth nods furiously. “Yes!”

"Guys?! Where are you?! I have an idea!" you burst into the building, searching for your crew members. "We're on the second floor!" the familiar voice of your Dancer exclaims.

With a surge of adrenaline, you sprint up the stairs (that honestly looked like ramps instead of stairs) to the second floor, your fast footsteps echoing throughout the hall.

You reach the top of the stairs, where they're all gathered around the mini stage they've set up. You make eye contact with your crew’s Stagehand and they gesture for you to sit on the cushion next to them.

Tea in hand you breathe in and out, “Each season goes as follows: teach them some simple craft spells then the other stuff that's unique to each season” you smirk, gaining more confidence with your idea. "What about the “ stuff that's unique to each season “ part is a workshop for the moths! And… for people who are interested! We could teach them about theater, how to write a play, and everything else we do here. It would be a great way to share our passion and get more people involved."

Your crew members exchange eager glances, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, that's a fantastic idea! I could teach them some sick riffs!" your Musician exclaims, playing their guitar with determination.

The Stagehand chimes in, "I could show them the ropes of stagecraft, from lighting to set design."

You turn to your crew's Storyteller, who smiles warmly. "I'll help them find their voices and tell their stories."

"I can lead sessions on movement and expression," the Dancer suggests. "I can teach participants how to use their bodies to tell stories and convey emotions on stage."

The excitement in the room is palpable as everyone starts brainstorming ideas for the workshop. You can already picture the theater bustling with little moths, eager to learn and create.“This is a great idea Director! Where’d you get the inspiration?” Your Stagehand asks you.

Your thoughts go back to that moth earlier, you smile warmly thinking of them “Just an idea i had..”

After a week of planning with your crew, the workshop is finally ready.

After a comedy skit performed by some members of the Season of Dreams you go up on stage mic in hand.

“Okay guys announcement! So, first of all, thank you so much for your creative And hilarious—” you wink at the Season of Dreams members “---Plays!”

"Now, as everybody knows, every single season has its events themed after, well.. The seasons theme!”

"So… without further ado, we are thrilled to announce our upcoming workshop series," you continue, your voice filled with enthusiasm. "Starting next week, we'll be hosting a series of sessions right here at the village theater. We'll cover everything from writing your own play to stagecraft, movement, and more!"

A wave of excitement washes over the audience as you outline the workshop's details. Your crew members stand beside you, beaming at the enthusiasm of the audience members"We want to invite all of you to join us," you say, scanning the crowd warmly. "Whether you're a seasoned playwright or a parent wanting your little moth to experience new things—” You wave towards the familiar moth and their mother “---this workshop is for you. Let's come together and create something magical!"

The applause and cheers that follow are filling you with a sense of accomplishment and joy. You glance over at your crew, sharing a proud and excited look. Then you look over to the moth that started it all, you see them look at you with wonder in their eyes, fiddling with their season pendant. You wink at them, they give you an attempt-wink back.

You walk through the excited crowd trying to reach that little moth and their mom. They spot you approaching and their faces light up with anticipation.

"Hi ma’am! Little moth!" you greet them warmly, kneeling down to the moth’s eye level. "I'm so glad you're here. Are you excited about the workshop?"

The child nods eagerly, a shy smile playing on their lips. Their mom smiles gratefully at you.

"I think it's going to be a lot of fun," you continue, glancing between them. "We have so many exciting things planned, like learning how to write plays, creating characters, and even some dancing!"

The child's eyes widen in excitement at the mention of dancing. "Can we really dance like the actors did?" they ask eagerly."Absolutely! Our Dancer is going to show us all how to move and express ourselves on stage. It's going to be fantastic!" you reply with a chuckle.

You thought a bit and realized… “Hey, i never got your name!” They look back at you and give you a smile you will remember for decades “It’s ____—”

You wake up to the chatter of your beloved crew. “Director! Thank the stars you’re awake!” You are then squished by the weight of your crew hugging you “We were so worried!” “You won't believe what happened!” “you were out for multiple—”

You shout, overwhelmed by the voices. “Guys! One at a time what happened?” Your Dancer looks at you with an expression you have never seen them wear. “Well—” “Director?”

You all turn to the unfamiliar voice, five figures fill your vision, four foreigners and one… Wait a minute… white cape with smooth ends… Two pins placed below their chin… Thats the— “_____?”

A/N: IM FINISHED!! yay,,, this took me like two drinks of mountain jew and! a couple of days..

So for my Sky: Cotl audience, the moth in the fic is the main character from In stars and time and the Fic was inspired by @kyri45 who did a wonderful job on her cross AU of the two games!

For my ISAT audience the fic is set in the game called "sky children of the light"

@kyri45 I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS! your au really got my brain tickled!! thank you for re-igniting my sky grind and thank you for feeding me with ur yummy AU

[hedghost]

alessia russo | white lies

five secrets alessia could keep (and one she just couldn’t)

first-time post from a long-time lurker. i absolutely did not intend it to be this long, so i apologise, but i wanted to do the idea justice! feel free to give me thoughts or requests :)

word count: 6.6k

one

famously, alessia could have her blonde moments. the occasional blank stare when she missed the tail end of a question, a furrowed brow as the punchline of a joke flew over her head.

honestly it didn’t bother her; so what if people thought she was slow? she knew her own intelligence. certainly, on the pitch, it was evident that she wasn’t stupid. she could be funny, she knew things, she spoke well, and she always made sure to think before she spoke. although that was less about seeming measured, and more because, if there was one thing alessia did know, it was the value of a secret.

after a few years in the spotlight, alessia had learned the hard way that there were certain things that were just better left under wraps. some things the media or the fans shouldn’t know, and some things best kept between friends. she kept a long mental list of secrets for different people, collecting them, and keeping them clutched to her chest. alessia took a small pride in knowing she was the one people went to, the one person they could trust with their darkest secrets.

alessia mused over her list as she drove to the stadium before the next match. mentally laying each secret out in front of her like a prized collection, dusting them off, and storing them back inside. the first she knew would be brought up again today, knew it would take her usual efforts to make sure it remained a secret.

walking into the changing room, alessia only narrowly dodged a flying shinpad that went clattering into the doorframe. alessia’s quick reactions only really served to cause her to lose her footing, just to be caught by your steady hands.

“oops, sorry less! i was aiming for tooney,” you smiled sheepishly, your hands still firm around her waist. alessia swallowed.

“idiots,” she laughed. you let go and stalked over to grab the wayward shinpad. this time, your throw found it’s mark, hitting ella squarely in the forehead and causing the changing room to erupt into laughter.

this was no real deviation from the team’s usual pregame ritual. typically, you and ella, ever the jokers, would engage in some play-fight of slapstick-esque proportions, entertaining the team while they all got ready. this of course meant you two then had to scramble to get changed as the rest of the girls walked out onto the pitch. alessia, who was never really found without at least one of her two best friends, would wait behind with you as you tied your boots.

you always had a lot of nervous energy before games, and ella’s constant faffing and time wasting as she collected her boots, tied her hair up for the billionth time, checked her mascara etc., would, without fail, mean you’d end up leaving the two of them behind, only for them to jog out and join you with seconds. this was the ritual, and alessia liked it.

“fucking hell, ella stop fannying about!” you whined.

ella, as always, was the last to put her boots on. she was combing back flyaways in the mirror, in just her socks. you and alessia watched on, fully kitted out by now. alessia leant back against the door and smiled as she watched you try to hurry ella on. she'd been through this many times before.

alessia knew the routine. she knew you would leave in a second, and she knew ella would stop dithering immediately after you did. and then, as always, she would tie ella’s bootlaces for her, and they would catch you up.

this was the big secret. alessia, to be honest, didn’t see the big deal, but ella was insistent that no one could ever find out, not even you. and as silly as alessia thought it was, and as much as she hated not telling you things, this was her duty as secret keeper and she did it diligently.

it had started years ago, long before you had arrived and turned the duo into a trio. ella had been in a state before an away match, refusing to tell anyone what had her fretting so much. alessia had taken her to the side, and it had slipped out; she didn’t know how to tie her own laces. her dad had always been at games, always tied them tight as a last good luck measure. in a flash, alessia had knelt at ella’s feet, tying the boots without saying a word. then she’d taken ella’s hand, and pretended not to see her swipe at tears as they walked onto the pitch together.

ella had found her before the next game, shyly asking her to repeat the action. alessia had done it without question, and just like that, it became their thing.

alessia had tried, of course, countless times to teach ella how to do it herself, but she suspected at some point it had become more superstition that anything. alessia had tied ella's boots once, and she’d played well, so now alessia would tie her boots forever. even now that many players preferred to play with laceless boots, ella never wavered. she said she just preferred the look, but alessia (and only alessia) knew the truth.

alessia watched on as you got increasingly impatient with ella. she smirked as you rolled your eyes once again.

"come on ella, if we leave now you might be in time for the second half,"

alessia had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. you were cute when you were frustrated. ella ignored you, still checking her reflection in the mirror, completely unfazed.

as annoying as ella was being, you felt bad that alessia was always the one to stay and deal with ella's antics. you were determined to remain, if only to give alessia moral support. little did you know that meant it was you who was holding up proceedings.

alessia, however, had been through this many times before and was practiced in the art of secret-keeping, and therefore distraction. she had a few tactics up her sleeve yet.

she looked over to where you leant against the doorframe, and flashed you her sweetest smile.

"y/n? i think i left my gatorade in the shower room, could you go grab it for me?"

as always, those eyes made you putty in her hands, and you pushed yourself off from the wall to go and look. as soon as you turned your back, alessia was knelt at ella's feet, her nimble fingers moving with practiced ease as they followed the path they'd traced countless times before. she was standing again by the time you returned.

"there's no gatorade in there less, are you sure its not in here?"

she flashed you a sheepish smile, putting on her best ditzy blonde impression, "oops, its right here! sorry y/n,"

you shrugged in response. before you could tell her not to worry, ella cut you off. she had moved to walk out the door, yelling over her shoulder as she did so,

"come on, what are you waiting for?"

you watched after her in exasperated incredulity as she exited the room. alessia laughed brightly at your expression, slinging her arm around your shoulder and dragging you out to the field with her. ella's secret was safe for another day.

two

you and alessia settled in next to each other as you took your seats on the plane for the lionesses' next away game. the two of you had been thick as thieves for years, and you couldn’t deny that the thought of having alessia nearby had been a deciding factor in your recent transfer move. still, you treasured each quiet moment you spent in each other's company, as you had for years.

you and alessia hadn’t always been close. you’d known each other through the youth age groups of course, but your relationship only really went from acquaintances to close friends around the age of sixteen. sure, you loved your teammates and got on well with all of them, but you were a fairly shy teenager, keeping them at all at arms length, and often finding yourself only hanging around the edge of conversations.

alessia was a nostalgic person, and liked to reminisce often about the circumstances that had led to your close relationship.

when you were younger, seeing as how you typically kept to yourself, it was usually easy for you to sink into the background. although sometimes this was a point of insecurity, you relished the chance for solitude whenever it came to flights. you’d always been a particularly anxious flyer, and you appreciated that you could usually nab a seat at the back to yourself, allowing you to hide your panic.

usually you got away with it. usually, you could find a pair of seats to yourself, deal with the panic quietly and alone, saving yourself from embarrassment.

of course, at some point, your luck ran out.

“hey! mind if i sit here?” came a familiar voice. you looked up in surprise, but you knew whose bright blue eyes would be looking down at you well before your gaze found them. alessia gave you little time to respond before settling herself into the seat next to you with a sweet smile. you had no time to concoct some lame excuse. you could only nod, and accept your fate.

of course it was her. of course, out of anyone, it was the person who would be the sweetest about it, the most understanding. how embarrassing.

alessia didn’t seem to notice your internal panic, instead sweeping you up immediately into conversation. and for a while, it worked to distract you. you barely noticed take off, didn’t even flinch as your stomach dropped and ears popped, too enraptured in alessia’s bright conversation.

that is, until the first bout of turbulence. the plane rocked, and you stopped mid-sentence. mentally gathering yourself, you tried to calm down, managing to carry on as though nothing had happened. alessia didn’t seem to notice your plight. you’d got away with it. then the plane dropped again.

this time, alessia was quick to notice the way your breath caught, the way your arms held tight to the arm rests, the white knuckle grip you had on them. you vaguely heard her say something, but you couldn’t focus on her voice enough to comprehend. all you could do was try to regulate your breathing, stave off the panic long enough to preserve your dignity.

a gentle touch on your arm brought you back to reality, “y/n? are you okay?”

you tried to speak, to respond, but you couldn’t muster the words. you shut your eyes tight, trying to turn away from alessia.

“hey, hey,” she soothed, her hand over yours, “it’s okay, we’re safe, everything’s okay,”

you wanted to pretend it was all fine, but you were too far gone. you buried your head in your hands, tried to focus on alessia whispering to you to ‘breathe, just breathe’.

you don’t know how long you sat like that, her guiding you through blind panic with soft touches and gentle words. at some point, your hand found hers, and you clutched it like a lifeline as the plane rode out its last bits of turbulence.

eventually, your breathing returned to relative normal. you hesitated to look up and meet alessia’s eyes, instead burning holes into your clasped hands. you noted her perfectly done manicure, how the light caught each painted nail, how the soft skin of her fingertips felt caressing your calloused palms.

“you okay y/n?”

finally you tore your gaze away from her hands, only to be met with her eyes. you’d never noticed how strikingly blue they were. you nodded, swallowing harshly. you were sure she’d be able to feel your pulse rising in your joined hands, praying she’d chalk it up to your panicked episode, not something completely different.

“not a big fan of flying then?” she prompted.

“no, not exactly,” you laughed, mouth dry. as much as you hated to admit it, alessia’s presence had definitely calmed you. you were barely conscious of the fact you were still thousands of feet in the air.

“that’s okay, i’ll distract you,” you hoped you weren’t blushing . if only she knew, you thought, but alessia had already plowed on, chatting about god knows what to distract you.

she kept it up until you landed. as she stood up to exit the plane, she squeezed your hand and offered a small smile. she went to pull away, but you pulled her hand back,

“could you please not tell anyone about this?”

“course not,” she smiled “our secret.”

then she’d strolled off the plane as though she hadn’t just changed the course of your life.

from then on, alessia always managed to slip away from her other friends and wind up in the seat next to you. it had become a steady constant in your routines. you'd never had a bad flight since, and true to her word, alessia had never told a soul.

three

the perks of england camps were numerous. from the training, to the facilities, the matches, even the food, alessia enjoyed it all. arguably the best thing of all though, was the ample opportunities for downtime with the team.

alessia was nestled in between you and maya on a sofa, only half listening to leah and keira regale some embarrassing tale about georgia, involving a bad date and what sounded like a lot of alcohol. georgia was burying her head in her hands as the rest of the team dissolved into fits of giggles at the story. alessia laughed along, dropping her head to your shoulder as the conversation moved onto other player's poor tastes in partners and shitty date experiences.

"okay wait! lets all go around the circle and say our most embarrassing crushes!" alessia felt your shoulder stiffen underneath her at beth's suggestion, and she knew exactly why.

alessia herself had only found out by accident, stumbling in on you crying out the aftermath in the bathroom. she'd held you as you calmed down, before you made her swear not tell anyone.

the night had started out well enough. you both were at an 18th birthday party for one of your england teammates. you'd joked around with all the other girls, dancing and singing, and drinking probably a little too much. the alcohol would end up being a bad idea, especially for you.

the girl who's birthday it was had an older sister in her early twenties. aged 17 and a bit, you were absolutely infatuated with her. you'd met her a few times before at games and training, she was cool and collected, and you were obsessed. the fact she would be in attendance at the party had definitely been a factor in your outfit choices, and probably in the amount of alcohol you had downed with alessia and ella at pres.

the whole night long, you were hyper aware of her presence in the room. too shy to ever make a move, you stuck to longing glances and daydreamed fantasies.

your downfall was soon to come though, when one of the older girls suggested an innocent game of spin the bottle. most of you were well past tipsy at this point, and so you all agreed readily. you laughed as your teammates kissed each other one by one; the messy, inexperienced kind of kisses only drunk teenagers could perfect. soon enough it was your friend's sister's turn, and you couldn't help the prayers you mentally uttered.

you would decide later that whoever answered those prayers had a sick sense of humour. the bottle landed on you. you leant forward, trying to contain your excitement. it was only a peck, but to you it was fate and poetry rolled into one. the game continued on, but all you could think about was the feel of her lips against yours. soon, the game faded into non-existence, as people began to get distracted and get up to refill drinks or amuse themselves elsewhere. you saw your crush slip out into the garden, and instilled with misplaced confidence from the peck, you saw your opening.

stepping into the cool air, you were relieved to see she was alone. you approached, placing a shaking hand onto her arm.

"oh hey-" you cut her off, pressing your lips against hers. it barely lasted a moment, before she pushed you off, nothing short of disgust on her face.

"woah there! i'm not a fucking lesbian!" she turned on her heel and stalked back inside, only stopping to utter one last crushing remark, "and i don't kiss kids!"

to your teenage self, it was an earth-shattering rejection. you managed to make it to an empty bathroom before you broke down. your ears rang with her comments as your cursed your own stupidity. in your rush to be alone, you'd forgotten to lock the door, and you jumped when gentle hands wrapped you up into a hug.

alessia had been watching you all night. she'd seen the glances you cast over at your friend's sister, before she lost sight of you after the ill-fated game. that was until she saw you duck into a bathroom, cheeks red and head bowed. she'd followed in a heartbeat.

alessia's heart ached for you as you sobbed into her shoulder. the sting of rejection had worn off, leaving space only for pure embarrassment.

"i'm such a fucking idiot," you mumbled into her shoulder when the tears had stopped.

alessia pressed her lips to your hair, "no you aren't, don't be silly," she knew the pain of unrequited crushes all too well. she knew the way they consumed you, blinded you to sense. "shh, it'll be okay," she murmured, "don't cry, its okay,"

"oh god, i bet she's already told everyone how weird and gross i am. i can never show my face again,"

alessia laughed at your dramatics, "shall we go home?" she said, and you nodded wearily, "let's go,"

as it turned out, the girl hadn't told anyone, and you'd been in the clear. the secret stayed between you and alessia, the single witness to your most embarrassing night.

alessia knew you didn't want anyone to know about that, even now, six years later. she also knew you well enough to know that instead of coming up with an alternate answer to beth's question, you were likely frozen, reliving your embarrassment. she had to think fast to preserve your secret. everyone laughed as rach shamelessly announced her childhood crush on some celebrity she'd never heard of, and then everyone turned to you expectantly. alessia cleared her throat.

"pretty sure y/n used to fancy that woman off countdown," she lied, and the room erupted into laughter once again. thankful for lessi's quick save, you groaned and buried your head in your hands, going along with her white lie. crisis averted. alessia carried on, giving her own fake answer about a boy from school. a practiced lie. once the group's attention had passed on from the two of you, she felt you grab her hand. you squeezed her fingers in thanks, and she squeezed back. she was getting good at this lying business. anything for you, and your secrets.

four

alessia was widely regarded as an excellent friend; someone who could be depended on, completely and utterly trusted without question. alessia knew this, and held such compliments with high regard. she had long ago cemented her place as someone to be trusted within her circle, and therefore concentrated her efforts in keeping that reputation. she knew her friends just thought she was a good secret keeper because it was in her nature, that she was just a good person through and through.

alessia herself knew however, that the reason she placed such strong value on other people’s secrets was because she had been keeping one of her own for far, far longer than she had kept any of theirs.

it had first become apparent as a teenager. as she listened to her friends fawn over their latest male obsession, or regale their recent kisses with boys at parties, or debate who the hottest boy in class was. she tried her best to engage, to get involved, but with every boy who came close to kissing her, she was finding it harder and harder to force interest. eventually, she came to realise the way she felt about certain teammates, the way she'd avert her eyes in the changing room, the way her gaze followed pretty girls in the hallway, wasn't the norm. the realisation had hit her like a truck. alessia russo was gay, and she had no clue what to do about it.

she kept the feelings buried for a while. she faked attachments to boys, tried kissing a few just to throw her friends off the scent, before eventually she stopped bothering. she said she was too busy with football to date, and that remained her excuse. that didn't stop her falling head over heels for multiple girls over the years, didn't stop her heart fluttering whenever certain people looked her way. a certain someone.

eventually, especially playing women's football, a lot of her friends started to come out. alessia knew she could've done the same, knew she'd be met with no judgement, but it was as though there was a mental block stopping her. as outgoing as she was, she didn't enjoy opening herself up. and so, never one to wear her heart on her sleeve, she guarded the secret closely. months turned into years, and it became just something she did. she was too far gone to announce it now.

she knew she'd tell people at some point in her life, but why bother when there was no girl on her arm to show off?

and it wasn't like she hadn't come close. especially to you, who had been open about your sexuality for years. alessia couldn't count how many times she'd opened her mouth to tell you, only for the words to catch in her throat. it was almost as though she'd left it too late now, built it up in her head, and the moment just never seemed right.

she'd been with girls before of course. in dark corners at clubs where no one would see, fumbled kisses with strangers in bathrooms. but never anything deep, never the connection she ached for.

alessia listened as you complained to her about your recent date with the latest girl. 'a complete dead end', you described it, 'like talking to a brick wall,' you laid your head across her lap and shut your eyes.

"god, i wish the girls i dated were more like you less. then i'd actually have something to talk about with them," alessia swallowed, her fingers working their way through your hair. god, if only you knew.

five

being gay wasn't the only secret alessia held close to her chest. there was another, far worse, far more guarded. the secret that kept her awake at night, that spiked guilt deep in her stomach whenever you smiled at her. painful memories of that fateful night, which she wished more than anything you would remember.

it happened at the celebration party last summer. the lionesses had been victorious at the euros, and euphoria was running rampant amongst the whole team. everywhere you looked, people were drunk off elation. the drinks had started flowing in the changing rooms, and they had kept coming ever since.

the constant flow of people meant you and alessia had only spent passing moments together. every time you seemed to find each other in the crowd, someone new would turn up and pull one of you away, with ecstatic congratulations, or the promise of a drink.

in a brief break from dancing, alessia found herself sat at the bar with ella and a few others. she sipped her drink as the others chatted excitedly. recently, she'd been finding that her eyes sought you out unconsciously. more and more, she'd been realising that wherever you were in a room, she'd notice. tonight was no different. her gaze finally landed on you, carefree and dancing amongst a crowd of people.

usually, she had the sense to not stare for too long, but with her inhibitions hindered by the drinks, and her mood high off the back of the win, she allowed herself a moment of grace. the soft smile that crept onto her face as she looked longingly after you was unbidden, but she didn't care to look away. alessia was sure that if anyone followed her eyeline she'd be found out, but everyone was too wrapped up in their own elation to bother.

across the crowd, your eyes met hers. you grinned widely, before freeing yourself from the crowd just long enough to grab her hand and pull her onto the dance floor. emboldened by the alcohol, she let herself dance a little closer than she usually would, let the touches linger a little longer.

neither of you knew how long you danced, just riding the wave of the win for as long you could. alessia could tell you were equally as drunk as she was, if not more. eventually, you leaned closer to be heard over the music,

"come with me to get some air?" alessia could only nod, hyper aware of your breath on her cheek. she let herself be led away by you, into the cool summer air.

you all but collapsed onto a bench, laughing as you clumsily pulled alessia down with you. you leant into alessia, her arm finding its familiar place around your shoulders as you let the comfortable silence descend. it was the early hours of the morning by now. alessia could hear the thump of music and shouts of people from inside, but out here, you were completely alone. despite her lack of sobriety, she was hyper aware of the way your body felt against hers.

"what a night hey," you laughed, and she nodded. "we fucking did it less!"

"champions of europe baby!" you yelled into the night, making alessia laugh and slap your arm.

you smiled, leaning back into alessia, "proud of you lessi" you whispered. when she didn't respond, you shifted to look at her.

"i'm serious less. i'm so proud of you. proud of us."

alessia couldn't find the words to respond. she could only think about how close your face was to hers. you smiled softly, and she smiled back. her eyes never left yours. you seemed to be breathing in sync. it was now or never. the alcohol spurring her on, alessia began to speak,

"y/n, i-"

she was cut off by you leaning in to close the gap. her eyes fluttered shut as your lips grazed hers, and she melted into the kiss. you pulled back to assess her reaction, but alessia barely gave you a second to breathe before she kissed you again. alessia poured all the years of pining, every pent up emotion into that kiss, and you gave her everything and more back. her brain short-circuited as your hand went to caress her cheek, her own hands fumbling clumsily to wrap around your waist.

at some point, one of you broke away. you pressed your forehead to hers, "we should probably get back to the party," alessia nodded. she was caught in a haze of euphoria. she would've done anything you asked in that moment; would've chased you to the moon and back. you smiled, before pressing your lips to her forehead and pulling her to her feet.

alessia would've liked to stay attached to your hip all night, but as soon as you re-entered the party you were both swept away by your respective friends, and she was left staring after you. the rest of the night was a blur, but alessia had truly never been happier.

alessia woke the next morning to the memory of your lips against hers. her head pounded with the hangover as she dragged herself out of bed and over to your room next door. it was customary for the two of you to end up in each others rooms after a heavy night to discuss the events and ride out the hangover together, but today, her heart pounded as she knocked on your door. she wasn't sure what the events of last night meant for your friendship, but she was running through various speeches and declarations as she waited.

eventually you cracked the door open, peering out at alessia with bleary eyes. "morning," you whispered with a smile, opening the door fully for alessia before collapsing back into your bed.

alessia followed you in, mouth dry and heart pounding as she perched next to you on the bed. she decided to let you take the lead with the conversation, though she ached to bring up the kiss.

"god, what even happened last night," you moaned from the covers, "i don't remember a thing,"

alessia's heart dropped to her stomach. "you don't remember anything?" she asked. you looked up at her curiously.

"i mean, i remember dancing, and then, literally nothing," your eyes widened, "oh god, did i do something embarrassing? lessi, please say i didn't."

alessia forced a smile onto her face, forced herself to push down the emotions coursing through her veins, "no, you didn't do anything," she forced herself to settle further into your bed.

"nothing at all,"

plus one she couldn't

after the euros, and the ensuing heartache, alessia had tried to distance herself from you. she'd lasted all of a week of subdued contact before you'd pulled her back in again. she couldn't resist you or your company, utterly powerless to do anything but come running back to your side like a lost puppy. you didn't even have time to notice something was up.

and so alessia settled back into your orbit, and tried unsuccessfully to get over you. despite how you'd acted that night, you once again gave her no indication of seeing her as anything more than a best friend, and so she tried her best to see you the same. she longed to bring up the kiss, to do anything to remind you, but your clear lack of memory told her that it hadn't meant anything to you.

playing together for club and country, you spent nearly all your days together. alessia spent each of those days in silent turmoil. her heart would pound with each innocent touch, her brain would malfunction every time you flashed her a smile. only at night, in the quiet of her room, would she allow herself to feel. she'd stare at the ceiling into the early hours of the morning, replaying each encounter, eyes glistening with unshed tears. she envied you for not remembering the kiss. god how she wished she could forget it. it replayed behind her eyelids every time she blinked: she felt the brush of your lips against hers every time she glanced down at your mouth as you spoke.

since it became apparent that it couldn't have meant anything to you, she'd done her best to get over you. but now that she'd experienced it, she could never go back. her love for you had swelled to the point of utter consumption, and she couldn't even begin to remember what it felt like to see you only as a friend.

being as experienced in the art of secret keeping as she was, she'd managed to keep you in the dark, but it was getting harder and harder to act like everything was okay. whilst you remained clueless to her plight, other people were starting to notice.

alessia was finally caught out after a particularly bad day. training had been rough, the weather was awful, and the stress and emotion of it all was starting to become too much for her. her heart ached for you every time you laughed. every time you called her name it was like a stab to the chest. she winced as she felt the beginnings of a headache, desperate to leave the training ground and crawl into bed as soon as she could.

noticing something was wrong, you'd rubbed her back and pulled her in for a hug.

"you okay less? headache?" you'd murmured, trying to meet her eyes. normally she revelled in how well you could read her, but right now, she hated it. she could only nod in response. you reached a gentle hand up to touch her forehead, "are you coming down with something?"

alessia wanted so badly to relax into your familiar embrace and sink into the comfort she craved, but she pulled away, ignoring your question and mumbling a lame excuse about getting home, before speeding to her car.

hearing someone chase after her, she steeled herself to face you again. instead, when she turned, she was met with ella.

"lessi, what's wrong?"

"nothing, ella, it's just been a long day," she sighed. she turned to get into her car, but ella blocked her path.

"don't bullshit me lessi, i know you. you think i haven't noticed how weird you've been acting lately?"

the confrontation was too much. alessia could feel tears begin to prick at the corner of her eyes, and she knew there was no escaping it.

"not here," she mumbled, opening the car door and motioning ella to get into the other side. she barely gave ella time to sit down before she drove off, only making it to the end of the road before the tears started flowing. she pulled over and buried her head in her hands.

ella didn't seem to know what to do, clearly she hadn't expected alessia to do this. her shock was only momentary though, and her hand reached out to stroke alessia's back.

"hey, hey, its okay, less, its okay. talk to me,"

alessia could only shake her head against her hands.

"i can't do this anymore ella, i just can't,"

ella just rubbed her arm, clueless to what she was talking about. in ella's presence, she let her facade fall apart a little.

"it's so stupid, i'm so stupid."

"is this about y/n?"

alessia whipped her head up to look at ella, who smiled wryly.

"you aren't very good at hiding it less,"

"fuck, i just-" she pressed her head into her hands again. "it's so embarrassing. i just don't know what to do. i can't keep doing this, it just- it hurts,"

"i think you need to tell her,"

"that's the worst possible solution to this ella,"

ella smiled again and raised an eyebrow, "i wouldn't be so sure,"

"you're an idiot, and your advice is awful," alessia muttered. she breathed deeply, collecting herself, before starting the car again, "i'm dropping you home, and we're forgetting this conversation ever happened,"

"whatever you say, less," said ella, smirking as she leant back in her seat, "whatever you say,"

despite her best efforts, the conversation with ella stuck in alessia's mind all week. even you were starting to notice how distracted she was being, and you brought it up one night, as you lay sprawled in your usual position on her sofa.

"have you been avoiding me lessi?" you joked, but alessia caught the flash of doubt in your eyes. she mentally cursed herself, once for not hiding it well enough, and then again for making you feel guilty about it. she decided she could only attempt to laugh it off.

"what are you talking about? we've literally been together all day."

"no, yeah i know, but you just seem, i don't know, distracted? closed off," alessia felt your head turn to look up at her, but she kept her own gaze firmly planted on the tv screen.

"i'm fine. just tired. its been a long week," she knew as soon as she said it that you'd see right through the flimsy excuses.

"well okay, but, you know you can always talk to me, yeah? if there was something bothering you?" your voice trailed off. alessia swallowed harshly. when she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.

"i can't,"

at this, your full attention was on her, the tv long forgotten. alessia felt sick at her own barely there confession.

"lessi, come on. you can tell me anything. i'm your best friend,"

that was the last straw. best friend, she reminded herself. any hope alessia still had of preserving her dignity flew out the window, and she had to press her lips together to keep from crumbling. you saw her falter, and you sat up in a heartbeat, your hands taking hers. alessia tried to pull away, but the grip you had on her was magnetic.

"y/n, i-" she bit her lip, shaking her head and looking away. if she spoke she'd say something she'd regret. the confession was on the tip of her tongue, just begging to be let out. alessia resolved herself, mentally replaced the confession with another white lie. but then she looked up, and her eyes met yours. god, those eyes. alessia was taken back to the night of the kiss, when she'd been enraptured in those same eyes; when she'd looked into them to find the brazen reflection of her own adoration.

it was all she could do to look away. she felt her mouth move, heard her own voice as though from a distance, speaking completely unbidden.

"i'm in love with you,"

they were the truest words she'd ever uttered, but god how she wished she could take them back. her brain raced with excuses, but she could only whisper disconnected thoughts and jumbled apologies. she regained just enough control over her words, but the damage was done.

"i know you don't feel the same - i'm sorry - i didn't want to make it weird - i'm sorry - please don't let this ruin us - i'm sorry."

alessia didn't dare look at you; your silence was indication enough. however, as always, alessia could never stay away from you for too long. as she braved one glance up, her words fell away from her.

you stared back at her, looking at her as though she'd hung the moon and all the stars.

"alessia," you whispered her name like a prayer on your tongue, "you have no idea how long i've wanted to hear you say that,"

years of pining, of heartache, of sleepless nights and longing glances, had not prepared alessia for this outcome. she stared at you, frozen in shock. all the fight, all the panic, had abandoned her, and she could only stare.

you leaned in, and she let herself fall into the kiss. she'd thought nothing could've been better than the first, but my god was she wrong. with one touch, you silenced all her doubts. you poured out the answer to every question she had. the two of you curled impossibly closer into each other, until alessia wasn't sure how you could've ever been separate.

you smiled against her lips, eyes blissfully remaining shut.

"why didn't you tell me sooner?"

alessia shrugged shyly, "it was a secret," you pulled away fully, eyes searching deep into hers.

"not anymore," you said, and alessia flashed a bright smile. your heart flipped at the sight.

"no," she murmured, "never again."

thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed :)

[kanmom51]

JK live 21 July 2023 London - Part 2

cr./to the creators of the content used in this post.

How do you start a part two of such a hugely significant live?

I guess I'll continue straight from where I left off.

JK has changed, is changing, and he wants us to understand it and accept it.

JK talks about how he got his courage from us and he wants to use it to try new things, that might make army uncomfortable, so he wants to find a way to do these things but also take army into consideration because he feels like he is not alone in this, he's with us. So he wants to communicate openly with us as a friend, bringing up suggestions as to what next, laughing saying without it being a spoiler.

And he goes on...

And here's the punchline.

This is him saying: it's not all about you. As much as I love you army, this here is also about what I want and what I need to make me happy!!!

And here am I wondering if he’s only talking about the creative process.  Because to me this feels like him also telling the fandom that there are boundaries.  Boundaries to which they can expect or demand things of him.  That he too needs to be happy within this relationship with army.  And that army needs to respect that as well.

This here folks is him cutting ties with his idol identity.

He's not disconnecting from army, not at all. He's also not saying "it's all about me and my happiness", but he is saying to us "it's not all about you anymore - this is me, I'm a real person, I deserve to be happy as well. See me, acknowledge me, let me be me and be happy, and we, Jungkook and army, will find our happiness together."

JK reads one of the comments asking him if he is crying.  He answers that he is not but he is clearly emotional and continues to say that as a 25 yo man :

He struggles to find the words, but he wants us to be understanding towards him.

As you see, JK is continuously drawing that line. The one between those that love him, and he loves them back, and those that hate him, don't see him for who he is. For those that love him, he wants to give his all, and within that relationship he wants to be honest and open and natural - a friendship with us.

And this is a sentiment that is on repeat throughout the live.

Again JK talks about army cheering him on, and having to repay army but:

This live, what he was talking about, it was important army all over the world will see – hear what he is telling us.

JK talks a little about deleting IG.  Tries very diplomatically not to dis IG, but in ever so many words says that the way to show himself honestly was in the lives, even that side of him (talking about being drunk).  Not flawless. HUMAN. REAL. (less company control – this is me talking not JK).

Again, the real person JK, not the idol JK.

Thing is, in all that talk about deleting his IG account all JK did was explain why he preferred the lives, and not why he went and deleted an account with over 50 million followers, lol.

But what he’s saying is that he wants a direct line to his fans. And he thinks he can achieve it with the lives.

And there you have it folks.  The company being Hybe, not BH.  BH are the boys.  Hybe is “The company” that is trying to impose what they think the boys should be, what they should sing about, what their image needs to be, all to be able to capitalize on them as much as they can until they enlist and until their contracts are back up for negotiation.  JK has shown us in the past few months, starting with his late night lives, his deleting the IG account, the JM promotion lives, that he is done with it.  Done with what “the company” wants or expects of him.  And he wants to care even less about what the company thinks or wants of him.

Again.  Comfortable.

We talked about what that means, didn’t we?

When are you most at comfort?  When you are being yourself!  No walls, no masks, no hiding, no omitting or lying.  Being yourself.

Again talking about the friendship relationship with army…walking down the street meeting up…

JK brings up again people criticising him for doing the lives while drunk – so what? And then he goes on to talk about an interview he did in the past - he knows there are those that care about him, for them he will give his all.

JK, well aware of the voices, those that don’t like him, those that criticize him, those that hate him:

Just JK saying fuck all the ops in his very nice and polite way.

Piss off, fuck off is what he wants to say, but he's too nice, too polite to say it. He is definitely a much better person than myself, because I will very loudly and bluntly tell them just that. To fuck the hell off, go live their lives and leave him and JM alone. And that includes those that claim to care about JM and go on to back JK, because they are just as bad if not worse than 'the others'.

So if, by any chance, what JK is saying is lost in translation for those antis, then here it is:

FUCK YOU HATERS!!!

Another proud moment right there!!

Funny bunny asks for permission to go to the restroom, lol.

But before he goes,

And there you have it. 

If you were thinking for one second that I was talking out of my ass in part 1 about him having notes. He came prepared. He had things he wanted to say. Things he HAD to say, and he wanted to make sure he said it all.

JK’s back for the toilet, yay.

JK telling us, once again, he loves us.  And he sincerely does.  That’s just who JK is. People need to listen to what he tells us, not only now, but over the years what he told us too.

This here is something that made me sad:

Him saying “if I don’t get strong the reason that I am loved or cheered for disappears”.  But he also says that is what he’s communicating with us about and that we will get stronger together.  I feel like this is him talking about growing together. He's changing, he understands that the fandom will have to change as well. If army have the same expectations they had of him only a couple of years ago, well that won't work. He's grown, he's different, he wants different things for himself, and army needs to recognize that, accept it and grow from there together with him.

JK again, talking about wanting to have drinks with army.  Man is on a mission, lol.

He wants his own Suchwita style show, only with army, lol.  But the company, that is literally terrified of him, will be monitoring (he knows what he knows, lmao).

He’s asked in the comments if he would be able to handle drunk army, only to ask in return if army will be able to handle him, to which he answers that he doesn’t think they would, lol.

This JK too.

Getting comfortable while talking again about being himself during lives, even if he makes mistakes or disappoints army.  This is him.  He takes responsibility for his actions. 

"Someone who is really nice and proper..."

"Those people..."

Again JK defining the people that he cares for, as such.

Continues that he hopes army are healthy and those they care for are too. That he hopes they are happy and healthy and that “you have a lot of happy moments in life”.

But notice, this is about “good” people. 

So he's really saying that army to him, those are the good people. Those ones, he wants them to be happy.

The others, the haters, they for him are not army. He doesn't say what he wants for them, but he definitely does not wish them happiness as he does for the "nice people".

He thinks he will have to work to find that too – happiness. That is such a mature way of thinking.  Because yes, happiness, lasting happiness is not something that is given to us, it’s something that we need to earn, to work hard for, and to continue to work in retaining it.

So, towards the end is when he lands the final blow.  A big one.

"Anyways this Jungkook that you love, I hope to live up to that."

like “Oh? This isn’t the Jungkook that I know”

"Yeah, that's ok...I'm going to live my life properly."

He struggles a little with how to say it, can’t talk dirty, doesn’t want to be too nice…

At this point he has a little trouble organizing his thoughts.

He wants to live life free and fun, for himself and army.

Again the word comfortable is brought up.

That moment there literally broke my heart into tiny little pieces. It's not just the realisation that JK knows that there are people out there that hate him, it's the "there's a lot of people that hate me..." and repeating it again "there's a lot of people"...

Why anyone should have to go through life feeling hated by others, strangers, people that don't know him at all, people that make assumptions about him, people that tell lies about who he is. People that write vile hateful things about him. No one should have to go through that. But JK, humble, big hearted, loving, talented, amazing, precious man that he is, most certainly shouldn't be dealing with so much vile hate against him.

I see him seeing it. The hate towards JM and himself. I see JM seeing it. JM is silent, he just withdrew, he doesn't share his thought with us like JK does. So I'm living through JK and his hurt and disappointment. And I know that this is how JM feels as well. Like I said, no one deserves this, but those two especially don't. And it's just heartbreaking to see they know it all, and those that think they don't or that they aren't hurt to their core by it are living in denial. 

JK and JM may not see posts like these:

But they most certainly see people that express sentiments like that and worse.

I chose to link this one I just happened to come by and that infuriated me, because of how fucking ridiculous that ask was. JK ungrateful. JK arrogant, full of himself. That there are actually people that think this. To people like that, people that put these words to paper without having the basic decency to go and watch content, see what JK talks about, read what he says, go see what others that work with him NOW say about him: humble, talented, work ethic, perfectionist, soft exterior, kind and so much more, I say go fucking watch his live and count how many times he says he's grateful for army. Thankful for army. This is the ONLY member that has torn down that wall between himself and army and literally voices wanting to be friends with us, and you call him arrogant and full of himself? What planet are these people living on?

So yeah, these sentiments and way worse, they see them. They see it all!

Again, he wanted to tell us things, he came with a plan in mind.

Ok, JK at the end, the whole goodbye was hilarious. We needed some mood lightening, lol.

Time to sum it all up.

Theme throughout the live: gratefulness, thankfulness, please understand me and accept me for who I am.

Words repeated throughout the live: army, grateful, fun, happy, friend, natural, comfortable.

JK was open and sincere and very drunk. Like his drunk sleeping live is nothing compared to how drunk he was in this live. He did tell us he was out celebrating with the staff the end of his promotions and that he was drinking hard, lol.

He was also all over the place.  But I’m attributing that to his neuro-divergency.  If it wasn’t apparent up till now (let’s be honest, JK screams neuro-divergent), then the live was just so clear.  He had things to say, but you could see how he was getting distracted, couldn’t keep on track, and although liquid courage is good at times, in this case, perhaps too much of it, felt like it had the opposite effect on him. 

So on the one hand we had a drunk JK who wanted to tell us stuff, really wanted to get things off his chest. And on the other hand, a little too drunk to articulate what he wanted to say. And that's why he was a little all over the place, lol. But he's such a precious soul, and he only ever means good. Even with those that mean him harm. When talking about those that hate him, not a bad word from his mouth, even with a loosened tongue, but you could see the hurt in his face.

So what did JK say?

He loves army.

He made that abundantly clear.

No matter what, army has been by his side for 10 years supporting him even more than his own parents (he apologised to his parents for voicing this sentiment).

He wants to be friends with army.  Drink together, eat together, meet on the street and say hi casually.  Basically friend zoning army.

He isn’t a child anymore, he is an adult and he’s growing still and changing still. 

He is going to continue to do things according to his gut feelings.

And with all of that change, he’s trying to tell us that he wants us to continue and be by his side.  Continue to trust him and love him and support him even if he’s not exactly the same JK that debuted years ago.

JK establishing this friendship between himself and army and asking for us to continue to accept him and love him even if he changes, but also know that even if there are those that don’t accept it, that is not going to stop him changing. 

He wants us to know who the true JK is, even knowing there are those that don’t accept him, don’t wish him well and even hate him.  That is not going to stop him being true to himself.

And no matter who he becomes or no matter what and how much he reveals of himself, army are a part of him, and he loves them so much.

The comment with the parents it’s about showing army just how much he appreciates them standing by him, supporting him even more than his parents did since debut (he apologises to his parents for saying that). 

He needs people to see him as a grown up.  Not the maknae anymore.  Yes he’s the youngest in the group, but hardly the youngest idol out there, and it’s time for army to acknowledge that.  He needs for them to acknowledge that.  Acknowledge he’s a grown up. Acknowledge he’s an artist.  Acknowledge he is making his own artistic decisions.  Some may be right some may be wrong, but he is taking ownership over them.

He is disconnecting himself from his idol identity. He is a person, an artist, and not something that is there to fulfill the fans wants, needs, fantasies. He wants army to be happy but it's a two way street. Army needs to understand he wants and needs to be happy as well. And we can achieve that happiness together.

Another thing that came to mind was separating himself, who he is, from the others. 

And you can like or dislike what he does. It’s ok to criticise as well.  As long is it’s not malicious.  He understand that not everyone will agree with him or like what he is doing.  Just like friends don’t always agree on stuff.  All within the boundaries of appropriate discussion and no hateful behaviour.

In a way it’s a turning point for his relationship with army:

I love you. I want to continue and be friends with you. But not only have I changed and I am changing, there are parts of me you don’t know just yet, parts that I want to reveal to you as well.  And I want you to continue to love the new me.  But if you can’t, it’s ok, we don’t have to continue to be friends anymore. 

Those that care for me I care for them too.  Those that hate me, let them live their lives…

This is JK asserting himself as an individual, a mature young man and artist as of his own.  He is part of BTS, but BTS is not all that he is.  Kind of like a teenager asserting their independence within their family.  And he loves his family (army in this case), he still wants to be part of it, but he also needs to find his own path, be allowed his independence and be allowed to find his own happiness. If he's happy, so will his family be. And this here most definitley isn't only about his music or professional decisions!!

Something is coming. I just feel it in my bones.

[tinytinyblogs]

Hyungwon As Your Boyfriend

Boyfriend

(n.) A person who 90% of the time annoy you, and 10% of the time makes you forget the 90%

Monsta x masterlist here

Hyungwon loves to cuddle on his lazy days. He would spend the whole day laying in bed, refusing to let me go. "We should stay like this all day," he would say, his voice muffled by your chest. He would wrap his arms tightly around you, and you could feel his breath on your neck. You didn't mind, you loved cuddling with Hyungwon too. It was so nice to just relax and not have to do anything. Sometimes, you would have to get up to go to the bathroom or get something to eat. But every time you did, Hyungwon would whine and complain.

You've been a fan of Hyungwon for years, so you're thrilled when you have the opportunity to take his photo. He's one of those models who always looks good in every photo, no matter what the pose or the lighting. You know that you have to do your best to capture his natural beauty and charisma. You want to take photos that will make him look even more amazing than he already does. You take hundreds of photos that day. But when you're finished, you know that you've captured something special. The photos are beautiful, and they really capture Hyungwon's personality.

Hyungwon can be a handful sometimes. He'll run around with a huge grin on his face, telling you dad jokes and laughing at his own punchlines. It can be hard to keep up with him, and sometimes you just need to calm him down. But don't worry, he'll usually stop once his battery gets low. He's just a high-energy person, and he needs to burn off some steam.

You didn't know that his lockscreen was your pictures until one day you randomly grabbed his phone to see what time it was. You were surprised to see a slideshow of your photos, all of you smiling and laughing together. You couldn't help but smile yourself. It was so sweet of him to make your pictures his lockscreen. You felt so loved and appreciated. You decided to tease him about it all day. You would randomly grab his phone and look at the lockscreen, then you would wink at him and say, "I see you've been thinking about me." He would blush and try to hide his phone from you, but you were relentless. You teased him until he finally gave in and gave you a kiss.

And he ended up showing you all your photos on his phone, you didn't even know when he took them. You were surprised to see so many photos of you. There were photos of you laughing, of you sleeping, of you just being yourself. He told you that he took the photos because he loved looking at you. He said that you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and he wanted to capture your beauty in every way he could. You were flattered and touched. You had never thought of yourself as beautiful, but seeing all these photos of you made you realize that you were. You spent the rest of the day looking at the photos. You laughed at the silly ones, and you smiled at the sweet ones. You were so happy that he had taken these photos of you. It was a reminder of how much he loved you, and how much he cherished your relationship.

Hyungwon loved helping you with your clothes. He always had a keen eye for fashion, and he loved seeing you look your best. He would often help you pick out outfits, and he would always give you his honest opinion. He was never afraid to tell you if something didn't look good on you, but he always did it in a way that was respectful and helpful. Thanks to Hyungwon, you always looked your best when you went out. He knew how to flatter your figure, and he always made sure that you felt confident and beautiful. One day, you were getting ready to go out, and you were feeling a little self-conscious about your outfit. You asked Hyungwon if he thought it looked okay, and he smiled and said, "Honestly, you always look beautiful, so don't worry about anything." He told you that he loved the way you looked in whatever you wore, and that he thought you were the most beautiful human in the world.

Boyfriend Hyungwon is always there to remind you that he loves you. He tells you every day how much you mean to him, and how lucky he is to have you in his life. He always makes sure that you know that you deserve to be loved and cherished. He tells you that you are the most beautiful, intelligent, and kind-hearted person he knows. He also takes care of you in every way. He makes sure that you are always happy and comfortable. He does things like cook you dinner, give you massages, and run errands for you. He is also very romantic. He loves to surprise you with flowers, gifts, and thoughtful gestures. He always knows how to make you feel special.

[amethystina]

Hello !!! I hope u r well and recovering 💘

Fir the ask game: 🤡❌️👀

Unfortunately, things are still pretty rough but I'm hanging in there :)

🤡 What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh?

I'm not sure if there is such a line, to be honest. Mainly because most of the things I write aren't all that funny, but also because it takes a lot for me to laugh when it's my own writing. Because I already know the punchline before the joke's even started, so it's just not that exciting. If that makes sense?

That said, Yoon Sa Wol from Black Knight is an absolute hoot to write and there is one exchange in particular that definitely makes me want to cackle whenever I think about it. It's when he's talking to 4-1 (a coworker of his) and they accidentally stumble onto the subject of whether or not Sa Wol could have sex with 5-8 (the dude he is definitely interested in having sex with) and the following happens:

All things considered, it didn't seem like a bad idea at all. 4-1 didn't seem to agree. She gave him a flat look, as if the answer should be obvious. "He'd eat you for breakfast." Sa Wol paused for a beat but, really, the only thing he could think to say was: "I mean, wouldn't that be the whole point?" 4-1 let out a choked noise that sounded outright painful.

SA WOL, NO.

But also, kudos on being so goddamn shameless.

❌ What’s a trope you will never write?

I'm not sure if there is one? Because, sure, I'm not personally into mpreg or A/B/O but I can't say I'll never write them. Like, if someone gave me enough money to write those tropes, I probably would. We get money where we can in this economy xD

I think the closest I come to a complete "I refuse to write this" are the things I find triggering or just don't agree with on a moral level. So I'd have a hard time glorifying abuse, for example, or write something that involves incest or non-con between a romantic couple. The kind where transgressions are eventually forgiven or brushed aside because "they actually love them and it was just a mistake" and that kind of stuff.

There's a reason why I'm so determined to call out Yo Han's bullshit in my Devil Judge fics, for example, and why Moon Jo is such a lovesick simp in my Strangers From Hell fic. I find them to be incredibly fascinating as characters, but I admit I would never be able to write them doing something along those lines. They both skirt the line from time to time — which is sort of the point in some ways — but I try to criticise the behaviour rather than excuse or glorify it.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

I kind of mentioned all of them when I did the WIP Tag Game not too long ago, so you can see what they are and read about them if you look at this tag right here!

But aside from that, I can say that I'm currently trying to edit and post chapter six of A New Dawn (Begins With Us), and, after that, I'm going to try and edit chapter 3 of The Right Set of Circumstances, and, after that, I... well, I don't know x'D I'll either try to edit Thou Shalt Not Covet or maybe I'll allow myself to write chapter 42 of Who Holds the Devil.

I'm kind of holding that chapter hostage right now since I HATE editing and would much rather write — it's just so much more fun. But if I only wrote and didn't edit, I would never post anything, so I kind of have to force myself to edit from time to time, too.

And it's extra annoying right now since I'm so feverish and that just makes editing ten times worse for some reason?

So yeah. I have a lot going on right now in terms of WIPs and it's kind of beginning to feel like a second job, not going to lie x'D

Thank you so much for the ask! :D

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

[trashogram]

With our conversation in the comments, I figured it might be best to put this one in ask form XD so here goes;

Your latest comment really got me thinking. I actually hadn't considered this before! And it just clicked.

And it makes sense, too. Since toon physics can still overwhelm human physics despite them coming into our world. And we see how toon logic can still be used either against them or for them, usually resulting in what would be a punchline in a cartoon, but wouldn't work at all among humans.

From what we see in toontown, they look to be being of chaos (I know that sounds ridiculous. This is the best phrase I could think of 😅). They thrive in it, they work with it, all of it. And chaos can just- do whatever it wants. And since we plainly see toons being able to do whatever they want (to an extent. Like the weasels couldn't just stop laughing when they felt like it), it'd make sense if they had some kind of way to control their little reality to benefit them in some way. Usually for comedy like you said, but they can easily use this in romance or other aspects of life, too. (I'm genuinely so excited! This never occurred to me, and after you said it just makes so much more sense now. So many opportunities are unlocked with this!)

I'll be honest, my headcannon was that toons had some type of magic in them. Yeah, I know that's kind of cheating, allowing me to say that anything they do is a result of magic, and it would ask how they got it (like did a human create them with magic? Or are they just magical beings that showed up a long time ago?). I wasn't really happy with it, but it was the best I could think of for a while. But I like this more ^^

Tldr; I think you just unlocked the great mystery to how toons in WFRR work. They can just bend reality however they need in some way that best suits them. Maybe that's how Doom was able to kill Teddy despite supposedly dropping a toon piano on him; he just willed it to be deadly and nit a gag.

I’m glad the idea tracks! Tbh I think the HC that toons have magic or are magic makes sense too. One could argue that creating entertainment (stories, movies, tv, music, etc.) is the human way of creating magic when in reality it doesn’t quite exist. And it’s practically outright stated that toons exist to entertain (human) people. Therefore, toons embody magic itself.

Although this probably makes sense only if humans came first, but the possibility that somehow toons existed before humans really intrigues me!

Also, Doom’s existence is kind of blowing my mind now with that possibility of Doom willing the piano to kill Teddy. If that was the case then that means Doom figured out how to circumvent the restrictions of his own existence. If he was created to be a cartoon villain, then he should only be able to harm other toons but murdering a human goes against that entirely. Despite that, Doom still exists. He’s bent the laws of toon nature as well human nature to his will. And in a very weird way, he’s a prime example as to why toons should have equal rights with humans in the WFRR world bc his actions have a lasting impact on both humans and toons that goes beyond simply making people laugh.

[seahorsepencils]

london/manchester adventures: part 1

Vague spoilers below for anyone who hasn't seen Octopolis.

A few weeks ago I went to see Octopolis and Great Expectations with the Berena group of @batnbreakfast @ktlsyrtis @elphiessolsikke @iordio @starfleetwitch @ariverandasong and @akaanonymouth.

I have a lot of feelings/thoughts! For the sake of brevity I'm going to try to keep the focus narrow.

octopolis

Anyone who's not able to see the production, I highly recommend buying a copy of the script online if you can. It's very beautiful and strange, and I think it's a satisfying read if you want to get a sense of some of the funnier and more vulnerable moments, and imagine Jemma in those moments.

I saw the play three times in total (twice on Thursday and once on Friday night), and each performance was very different. Because the show is a two-hander and both actors do such an amazing job listening to each other and taking in each other's (and the audience's) energy, there's a lot of variable space for the mood/vibes to shift between performances.

The Thursday matinee got lots of laughs in the first half and then felt really sad at the end. The evening show got almost no laughs at the beginning and felt sort of tense? In a way that I don't think was intentional, but made for an interesting experience watching it. Also the director, Ed Madden, was at that performance - my eyes kept flicking over toward his area of the audience to try to gauge how he was reacting.

Friday was definitely my favorite performance of the three. Ewan Miller's comic timing is pretty great in general, but in this production it was perfect - and everything he said felt very honest and vulnerable, not like a punchline. And the chemistry between both actors was definitely at its best in this version. I will say that I found the chemistry to be a bit unsatisfying in general - they have a lot of fun together, but I never quite believed that either one had fallen for the other, so it didn't quite click for me as a romantic chemistry. But thinking of the two as curious and vulnerable friends and intellectual partners, I definitely found that chemistry to be most palpable in the Friday show.

Additionally, Jemma hit a different level of anger in the Friday show, which I loved. I think the ending of the play really depends on the sense that her character feels incredibly betrayed, and on Friday, I could really feel the depth of that betrayal in her reaction to it.

And if I'm not misremembering, the final dance between the characters was a little different in that version - not the choreography itself, but how they initiated physical contact at the start of it. It had a bit more of a loving/vulnerable quality, which was very sweet and sad.

Oh, also: Jemma snort laughed the most times in the Friday performance. Very important data.

My favorite difference between the three was the bows at the end of the Friday night performance - Jemma and Ewan did a little cute shoulder bump during each bow, like they were happy about how well it went and what they'd created together this time around.

It was really lovely being able to see the show with friends the third time around, and to spend time talking about bits of the production that broke our brains, and parts where her intonation was similar to a specific Bernie moment, etc. It was also great being able to chat with Jemma after the performance - I'm not good at writing about that sort of thing so I'm going to refrain, but @ktlsyrtis's post covers it pretty nicely.

[sercezgazety]

The time is just after ten p.m., a bit early to be done with the dinner already, but it was nothing fancy, and the restaurant was awfully loud. They both agreed that there was no point getting dessert when there were much more fun ways of spending the evening.

The place: the interior of Dan’s car, somewhere in the middle of the road between Arkham and Dunwich where Lana lives. She said the commute was not that long, though that was back when they were laughing, and the table was hiding the foot she had on Dan’s lap. Now, the drive seems unbearably long, and Dan grinds his teeth in order not to swear out loud. That certainly wouldn’t improve the situation.

Lana is sitting next to him, tight-lipped and sweating. A minute or so ago, Dan tried to tell a joke. Before he got to the punchline, she gave a shrill, terrified laugh that told him beyond any doubt the evening was not salvageable. So. No stopping by at her place. It would be really weird if it were any other way, to be honest. It’s a miracle Lana still hasn’t pepper-sprayed him the moment she noticed the blood stains.

How did Dan miss them, anyway? He was cleaning the upholstery just yesterday, specifically for the occasion, and he could have sworn he didn’t miss a spot. They must have sprung into existence overnight, unless.

Unless Herbert put something in the car, and then took it out before Dan came back. And yeah, now that he tries to discreetly glance at the door, there are claw marks next to the latch. Lana, judging by the way she’s clutching her purse, has already noticed them.

Dan told him he cleaned the car specifically because he was going out that night. He couldn’t just store whatever body part that was — probably something with fingernails, but in case of Herbert’s experiments, that doesn’t necessarily mean it was a hand. Couldn’t store it somewhere else just this once, could he. What a dick.

Dan decides to break the silence again by offering Lana some chewing gum. He really shouldn’t have done so because the moment he opens the glove compartment, he finds an ear in there. An honest to God, entire human ear, concha and all. It has piercings in it.

What a perfect place to store an ear. Easy to reach when the need for a severed body part arises. Very handy.

He smashes the compartment closed immediately, and he thinks Lana didn’t get a look, but that’s mostly because she’s not screaming. She just stares ahead, an unnaturally polite smile plastered on her face.

“I think—I think, uh. That’s where I jump off,” she tells him the very second they pass the sign saying they’ve entered Dunwich. Some lights are shining in the distance, but they’re pretty far away. On both sides of the road, there’s nothing but empty fields.

“You sure?” Dan tries, even though he knows he shouldn’t. “Seems like an awful long walk. You said you lived near the center, right?”

Calling a town like Dunwich something with a center is generous. So is calling it a town. But there sure is a difference between the part that has buildings and people in it, and the absolute middle of nowhere. There’s a hill a bit to the right, and there are some weird shapes on it. Dan remembers someone at Miskatonic telling him about those. Standing stones or something like that, probably pretty interesting when you’re into this sort of thing. But also creepy as shit, especially when it’s dark.

He still doesn’t stop the car. He feels terrible about this, but he’s not going to let Lana walk all the way to town in the middle of the night and in this kind of shoes. Granted, she’s terrified now, but it’s not like she’s facing any real danger. If he lets her into the night, she might be.

“Yeah,” she says, and she’s doing a poor job at hiding the tremor in her voice. “But I have a friend nearby, and can you believe it? I forgot I promised her I’d drop by tonight!”

Dan can’t believe it, but he’s not an asshole, so he just nods. The buildings are closer now, and in a minute, they are going to be somewhere that might actually have electric light.

“Okay, I can drop you off by her house,” he offers gallantly because he has no idea what else to say without actively acknowledging that the inside of his car looks like a murder scene. Then, he bares his teeth in the most reassuring smile he can muster.

“No!” Lana shrieks, and they both cringe at that. “No,” she repeats, this time much quieter, and then gives some sort of a bark that was probably supposed to be laughter. “That’s alright, really. You’ve already wasted enough time, you know. I can walk from here.”

The nearest building is a couple yards away. Dan would prefer to drive for a moment longer, just to make sure no one drags Lana into the darkness, screaming, but she’s already unbuckled her seatbelt. He stops with a heavy sigh, aware that if he didn’t, she might jump out of the moving vehicle.

She doesn’t say goodbye, just opens the door and leaves, the purse all but forgotten on the car seat. She doesn’t break into a sprint either, not right away at least. Dan thinks he saw her take off her shoes as he turned the car around and headed back to Arkham.

So now the time is a quarter to midnight. The place: Dan’s room, but only physically. Mentally, he’s somewhere else, not entirely certain where, but it sure as hell doesn’t smell of stale coffee and sheets he hasn’t changed in weeks. It’s this weird amalgam of numerous bedrooms he’s seen, or maybe a motel room, the details are hazy. It’s not like they’re important. The important thing is the body writhing underneath Dan’s as his hand speeds up, the large breasts that bounce nicely, a mouth that pants and cries out, legs that are long, slender, and wrapped around his waist. The facial features of his partner shift from one nurse to another, and there are some models and one really pretty patient of Dan’s thrown into the mix. No Lana, though. He’d feel way too guilty about it afterwards.

He bites into his cheek to keep the noises down. There’s a sharp knock, and before he can answer, Herbert is already pushing the door open, leaving Dan just enough time to curl up and bring the blanket to his chin.

“Fridge went out,” he informs Dan without any preamble. “The kidneys are of no use.”

“What— what kidneys?” Dan sputters before the proper indignation sets in. “And haven’t you heard of knocking?”

Herbert visibly frowns at that. “I knocked.”

“But didn’t wait for an answer!”

“Hm,” is all the apology Dan gets. Herbert is still standing in the doorway, squinting in Dan’s general direction, but it’s not going to take much longer for his eyes to accommodate to the dimness of the room. “Either way, we need to get an auxiliary generator. We can’t continue losing perfectly good tissue like that.”

“I’ll look into it,” Dan grunts. “Tomorrow.”

Herbert just keeps standing there. Hovering.

“Well, obviously. Everything’s closed. It’s the middle of the night, Dan.”

“Yeah,” Dan agrees. His dick gives a frustrating twitch instead of just going flaccid, and he would probably be asking himself what is wrong with him, were he not too busy wondering about what is wrong with his roommate. “Obviously.”

The infernal little man gives a curt nod, his head outlined by the light seeping in from the hallway. It doesn’t seem like he plans on leaving.

“Is that all?” Dan asks through gritted teeth.

Herbert, instead of taking a cue like any normal person would, takes two hesitant steps inside. “You’re home early,” he observes, and yeah, no shit. As if that wasn’t on him. “You said you’d be back in the morning.”

What else can Dan do but shrug, his hands still buried underneath the blanket. At this point, it would be just weird to take them out.

“I take it the date didn’t go well.” There’s not a hint of question in Herbert’s voice.

“Didn’t work out.”

“Odd,” he decides to comment instead of leaving. “She seemed your type.” He pauses, making a show of tapping a finger to his chin, trying to come up with anything to say about Lana. He settles on, “Had boobs.”

“Yeah, and I had a fucking human ear in the glove compartment,” Dan snaps back. “Care to explain how it landed itself there?”

“I haven’t got the faintest idea.”

Herbert is fidgeting, but sounds innocent. He never sounds innocent, unless he’s really trying to, and if he has to try, then, well…

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you.”

Herbert cocks his head to the side and carefully schools his features into confusion. “Did what on purpose?”

“Sabotage me like that! Cockblock, interfere, ruin the date, whatever you want to call it. You did it on purpose! Again!” Dan’s hands must have gotten free since he’s apparently waving them around in agitation. Thank God, the blanket remains where it was. “Do you get some sick pleasure out of it? Or do you just want me miserable so that you have someone to talk to?”

He should have seen it coming, but the click of the light switch still takes him by surprise. He blinks rapidly, and this way, Herbert, who was in a better-lit room just a minute ago, gets the upper hand. Well. Even more of it.

“Where is this coming from?” he asks, the very image of wounded innocence. Then, something shifts in his face, and for a second, it looks like he really is alarmed. “Dan, are you alright?” he asks, suddenly uncomfortably close. He does tend to pop up in unexpected places like a cat would. “You have a fever?”

Dan bats the hand away before Herbert manages to put it on his forehead. He was supposed to be feeling angry, not ashamed of himself.

It doesn’t stop Herbert from crouching down and staring into his face. They’re making eye contact. That’s what they’re doing now, that’s how the evening is apparently going.

“You’re flushed. Sweaty,” the man observes. “Your breathing’s labored. I’m not letting you near the lab in that state, you’re a walking health hazard. Are you experiencing any soreness? Did you contract something from that doxy?”

“Good, I wasn’t going to the la— wait, doxy? Seriously? What next, strumpet? Harlot?”

Herbert’s mouth forms a thin, bloodless line. “You’re right,” he agrees without even acknowledging what Dan actually said. “The incubation period is much longer, this must be something else. So what about the muscle soreness? Headache? Sore throat? Nausea?”

Dan can only shake his head, torn between screaming and bursting out with hysterical laughter, though granted, there is some nausea involved. When Herbert tries to take his pulse, he manages to wrangle his wrist away. From this close, he can see a speck of blood on his roommate’s cuff.

“I’m fine, Herbert.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“No, seriously.” The blush should have receded due to the mortification, and yet, Dan can feel it getting worse. At least he’s been able to get his breathing under control. “I’m fine.”

Herbert ignores him completely, fumbling through the pockets in order to produce a pen light, apparently intending to flash it right into Dan’s eyes.

“Herbert!”

Dan didn’t mean to shout, he really didn’t, but at least it gets the job done. West stops trying to pry his left eye open.

“Look. I’m fine. I’m not sick.” Dan gulps, unsure how to phrase it. “It’s all… natural. I just, uh. Need a couple more minutes to myself.”

Herbert freezes. He’d probably take a step back, had he not been crouching, but if Dan expected West to blush, he’d be disappointed. “Ah,” he just says, his face perfectly blank.

continue reading about Herbert making everything horribly awkward, and about Dan suffering in his very own personal hell here. there are puns! there are body parts!

[specialinterestshows]

Find out the conclusion of Finn and Damian’s talk in this latest chapter of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic. (Also how did this get to fifty chapters???)

Warnings for this section: Cannabis (weed), dirty talk

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Absolute Smokeshow (Part 50 of ?): The Other Side

“I’m sure they’ll be back any minute,” you reassure JD with a smile as he checks his phone again for what must be the tenth time since you noticed him doing it. Knowing the advice you gave Damian might change whatever it was JD had with Finn made you feel more than a little bit guilty.

"You're probably right," JD sighed, eyes fixed on the parking lot, expression unchanging - anxious and a bit sad.

Looking back at Dominik and Rhea for help, you notice her whispering things in his ear, making him blush. Turning back to JD, you do your best to try and take his mind off Finn.

"So, are you a wrestler too?" you ask, unable to see any muscle due to the somewhat loose nature of clothes that covered both his arms and his legs.

"Have been for years," JD replied, finally actually looking over at you, "Are you?"

You laugh, "No, not even a little bit. Just had the good fortune to meet and end up with a wrestler." A smile makes its way onto your face, but JD's expression is still uneasy despite maintaining eye contact.

"Wish I had more bud to offer you," is all you can think to say, smile fading a bit, "Looks like you could use it."

"Ah, that stuff makes me paranoid anyway," he responds, waving a hand.

"Have you ever tried CBD?" you ask, not giving up on keeping him - and, being entirely honest, yourself - distracted.

"What's that?" JD asks warily.

"It's the part of weed that makes you calm and relieves pain," you explain, "Some places sell CBD by itself; so if you wanted to try smoking without the paranoia, you could also smoke or eat some CBD when you smoke weed in order to stay calm. Or you could try the CBD by itself, especially as a balm for any pains you might have to recover from after a match!"

"I had no idea," JD says, actually sounding interested for the first time during your conversation, "I'll have to look around for some and give it a try!"

"What are we trying?" Rhea's sultry voice asks, surprisingly close to your ear as she moves to rest her chin on your shoulder - startling you a little, but mostly making your face warm.

"C-B-D?" JD says hesitantly, looking at you, "Did I get that right?"

You nod carefully so as not to run into Rhea, making JD grin.

"Oh," Rhea says, sounding somewhat disappointed.

"Nothing nearly as sexy as you might hope, babe," you say apologetically, gently leaning your head against hers.

"I dunno," JD says, "No paranoia and less pain after matches? Sounds pretty sexy to me."

Rhea snorts at the comment as you laugh.

"Feels like I'm always late for the punchline," Damian's voice made everyone look up. His hair was slightly disheveled, he was calmer than you had seen him all day, and there was something else different about him that you couldn't quite place.

"What are you doing wearing that shirt," JD asked, looking down at the purple X on the black shirt stretched tightly across Damian's chest, voice trembling with growing rage, "And where is the man it belongs to?"

"Lo siento," Damian apologized, "But this was given to me freely" - he tugged a bit on the collar of the shirt, drawing attention to what could only be a hickey on his neck - "And Finn is fine, don't worry."

The smile Damian couldn't seem to suppress only seemed to make JD more impatient.

"Where. Is. He." JD demanded to know, getting closer.

"Still back in the rental car, I think," Damian replied, making JD's expression slowly dial back to bitter resentment - but it was Damian's next comment that made JD look completely heartbroken, "I tired him out pretty quickly and he might need a minute to recover."

Not saying a word, JD pulled a few bills out of his pocket, set them under his plate on the table, and walked off dejectedly. The guilt pierced you like a dagger as you watched him shuffle away in the direction of the parking lot.

"No fucking way," Rhea says after JD is out of earshot, "You and Finn finally got together?!"

"Thanks to your girlfriend," Damian replies, grinning harder. The happiness he exuded made you feel a bit less guilty.

"I'm glad things worked out!" you say, trying to put your feelings aside to let Damian enjoy his moment.

"So what you guys did in the car," Dominik addresses Damian, "... Details?"

"Dirty boy," Rhea scolds Dom, "You too, Priest. Finn better have the windows down; I am not driving for hours in a car that smells like sex."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it after you and Dom had that quickie and thought Finn and I wouldn't notice," Damian countered.

Rhea smiled at the memory and kissed Dominik’s cheek before checking the time and sighing.

“We should start heading to the next location,” she said, sounding less than excited.

“Thanks for everything, babe,” you tell Rhea, holding up your gift bag and winking, “I’ll send you a picture of me with this on once I get home.”

Rhea pulls you into a hug and whispers “good slut” before pressing her lips against yours. A wave of lust washes over you as she quickly grabs your ass and bites your lip before pulling away and letting you say goodbye to the other two. Dominik seems surprised when you pull him in for a hug as well, the heat radiating from his face as you pull away. Hugging Damian requires you to jump up a bit, making him laugh and spin you around before saying, “Thanks again, chica. I’m sure Finn would say the same if he wasn’t so proud” - he looks back at the parking lot briefly - “and also probably asleep.”

[end part fifty of ?]

Part 51: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/730125705350873088/absolute-smokeshow-part-51-of-a-prince-and

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Tag List (thank you!)

@cherryberryshine , @littlemiss-fanficlover , @elisewithak , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domlynch

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Ahir Shah’s 2023 stand-up hour, Ends, came out on Netflix last week. It’s the show that won the big Best Show award from the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and deservedly so, in my opinion. I got to hear it last year and thought it was incredible, and could not wait for it to get filmed so everyone else can see it too.

I was prepared to be a bit disappointed when I watched the Netflix version, because I think something usually gets lost, from hearing something exactly as it was performed on an Edinburgh stage during its original run, to seeing a version that’s been workshopped for the better part of a year, and then edited for a streaming service.

I got a bit of that disappointment when Tom Ballard’s It Is I show went on YouTube – I saw it live the year before and thought it was absolutely incredible, and then I watched the filmed version, and thought it was still very good, but had lost a lot. They censored a couple of his swear words, which is a very good way to lose the momentum and/or vibe in a stand-up show. A couple of the threads had been cut out, and I didn’t know whether he’d dropped them from the show or whether they’d been edited out of the broadcast. I still enjoyed it, but not as much.

I was prepared for something similar with Ahir Shah’s show, and I’m pleased to say it didn’t happen as much. It still happened a bit – I’ll be honest, the version from its original Edinburgh run was better than this. But not by all that much. It was mostly the show I remember, and it was told very well, and it didn’t feel as “edited” as I often find that streaming service stand-up specials do. I think the earlier version made me laugh a bit more than the Netflix version did, though to be fair, part of that might be that everything’s funnier the first time you hear it, when you don’t know the punchlines are coming. I think a couple of the punchlines were missing from the Netflix version, and then a few more were softened by me knowing they were coming, so I didn’t laugh as hard.

But I did, to be honest, cry again. It’s one of those shows. One of those award-bait crying shows, and this one got its award, and I think it rightly so. Not all stand-up shows with bits to make you cry deserve awards. But this one sure did. It was one of only a couple of stand-up comedy shows to make me properly cry in 2023 (and on the subject of those couple of shows… NextUp should be putting out the new version of Grace Petrie’s stand-up show any day now, can’t wait to watch that again and cry more).

I don’t want to write too much about it because I think everyone should watch it, and I think it’s better to watch it without too many preconceived ideas of what’s in it. It’s a show about family and immigration and how past generations shape future ones, and it’s personal and political, and sometimes I don’t politically agree with every single detail of everything Ahir Shah says, but I can still see his perspective and respect his opinion.

And I don’t think that’s always true of differing political opinions – there are lots of political opinions that I don’t respect one bit and I think the people who hold them should fuck off. Ahir Shah isn’t one of those people, he’s just a left-wing version who has a bit of variation from me in the specifics of some of his views, and I find that interesting.

I often find it annoying when people say we should be “challenged” by stand-up comedy. I listen to the news to be challenged, and I read stuff by journalists and people who know what they’re talking about to inform my political views. Then I go to the entertainment sector to laugh when people say those views in a much funnier way than I could manage, and to feel a bit of cathartic relief when the comedians talk shit about the terrible people who hold terrible opposing views, since they’re able to put their shit talk into funny words. It’s nice. I do my civic duty and listen to news that adheres to journalistic standards of balance. Then I live my life that’s full of right-wing people very causally saying shitty things while I keep my mouth shut until by the end of it all, I have a headache and stomachache and pain in my chest from shutting my mouth for so long. And then I listen to comedians who agree with me talk shit, and it feels like a breath of fresh air and a weight off my shoulders. It does still have to be funny – I’ve heard some comedy where I agree the hell out of it but it’s not well written so it doesn’t make me laugh. But yeah, I probably do sometimes laugh a little harder at something where I agree with it politically, than I would if it were something equally funny but I didn’t agree the hell out of it. I like hearing my own views parroted back to me in an entertaining way, thank you.

And seriously, I don’t think it’s good when people complain about “you just want comedy to parrot your views back to you, instead of looking to be challenged”, because people looking to the entertainment industry to have their views challenged is a bit part of the problem. Challenge your views via people who know what they’re talking about. Don’t learn new things from comedians. They don’t know anything.

Those last couple of paragraphs are how I usually view political comedy. Which is why it’s such a big deal that I view this Ahir Shah show as an exception to that. I think he does challenge me, and I did learn some new things from this stand-up hour. Learned to look at a few things in a new way. Again, to be clear, he has the fundamentals of decent politics; he’s not out there challenging me with material that’s misogynist or transphobic or “actually when you think about it, maybe the government shouldn’t subsidize low-income children who want to eat at lunchtime”. Just different ways of looking at things, within the purview of being, you know, basically all right. I’m not sure I always agree, but I find it interesting.

So there’s that, in the show Ends. Intelligent political and sociological analysis. There’s the generational legacy stuff. Some good callbacks and throughlines. There’s the bit that made me cry, delivered very well. It’s always a bit weird to see someone do the tearjerker part of their show after they’ve been touring it for quite a while, and you know they’ve performed this same material a lot of times, so it’s hard to muster the same emotion every time. But I think he nailed it on the Netflix filming night, anyway. It got me just as good.

Oh, and it is funny. A bit less funny than the earlier version that I remember, but that’s a fucking high bar, and this was still funny. That's important too, in an award-winning comedy show.

Anyway, absolutely everyone should watch this, I cannot recommend it highly enough. If anyone reading this would like to watch it, and the only thing holding you back is not having Netflix and not knowing where to watch it, send me a message I can reply to privately (so, not an anonymous ask because those can only be replied to publicly - send me a direct message or a non-anonymous ask), and I'll help you out. That offer is always on the table with things I write about that have been publicly released, and I usually try not to refer to it too much in public posts, but I'm doing so in this one because I really really want to encourage people to watch this. Don't be shy if we don't know each other, either. Even if we've never interacted before, if you're a blog that has nothing to do with mine, doesn't matter. I'll just be happy to have pointed more people to this. (Though obviously, if you have Netflix watch it there to give him the view count, and, you know, support live comedy where you can and stuff.)

[positivelybeastly]

Simon says 🎲

7. A romantic kiss.

"So, what's this new form supposed to be?"

Hank blinks, and turns from where he's laying on the Avengers Mansion roof. It's newly completed, and he swears he's just stress testing it, but really he just wanted a moment of respite from the party going on downstairs. It was, as with all things Janet van Dyne, simultaneously very chic, very stylish, and yet all together too much - an excellent time, to be sure, but exhausting.

Hank's spent a lot of the last few years feeling exhausted, if he's honest. Which . . . well. Given the company he's currently keeping, it's hard not to be.

Honest, that is. He was never too exhausted for Simon.

"Simon! I hope I haven't drawn you away from the festivities - there's really no need to concern yourself, I just needed a breath of fresh air."

He's just hovering there, as beautiful as the day Hank first laid eyes on him. Why wouldn't he be? He's ionic. A collection of atoms and molecules so completely and utterly distinct that to call him a Wonder Man is both an absolutely correct appellation and the world's worst misnomer. He'll outlast them all - Hank knows that as surely as he knows the warped, frayed edges of his own genome. They've both been utterly transformed, but while Hank's only made himself look less and less human, Simon just . . . persists. Forever beautiful.

Electrically charged atoms, clustered so tightly and so densely that they form wisps of purple, surround him, and if Hank were feeling more himself, he might tease that there's a charge in the air tonight. Instead, he just smiles. He finds it hard to stop himself from smiling at Simon. He probably looks drunk. He has been drinking a little.

But if Simon thinks so, he doesn't say or show it. Instead, he floats like the proverbial cloud so that he's hovering right above and to the left of Hank, carefully setting himself down by his old buddy, his old pal. A less knowledgeable Simon scholar might think that he'd be easier to read if only he would take off those glasses, but Hank's well aware that if he did, there'd only be the red.

And he's never needed to see his eyes to read Simon.

"Jan's in fine form tonight."

Hank laughs, and immediately the tension he didn't quite realise he was feeling unfurls like a jolly caterpillar. "Isn't she just? I seem to recall the Professor doing something similar, years ago, back after Genosha. A rush of activity, a burst of energy, as if to prove it wasn't all for nothing, that life goes on. Granted, I think we're in a damned better place than we were back then."

Were they? Hank's not so sure. He's teaching at Harvard now, which wouldn't have happened 10 years ago. He knows that from personal, lived experience - after his second successful application to the school, one of the custodians had seen fit to give him his old red maroon suit jacket he'd thrown on the floor of the Dean's office in a fit of pique when his first application had been denied. But for everyone else, well . . .

"Yeah. Yeah, I think we are, actually."

"Optimism, Simon? Your wonders never cease."

Simon sees the punchline coming a mile away, walks into it. They laugh. This is comfortable, isn't it? This is nice.

"I think . . . I think Wanda and I finally broke it off, today. We talked, at the park, and it . . . well, there's more to talk about. But it felt pretty definitive."

Ah. So, that's why Wanda had hugged Hank when she'd seen him.

"I'm truly sorry to hear that. You were good for one another."

Simon snorts. It's a strange noise to hear out of that movie star mouth and filtered through the '40s Transatlantic accent that he always seems to settle on, and it makes Hank start a little.

"No we weren't. She wasn't what I needed, and I wasn't what she wanted. Never has been, and I never have been."

Good use of tenses, Simon. It was all Hank could think as he looks at the other man, rubbing his thumbs together.

". . . Well. Regardless. I always thought you were at least nice together."

"Is that why you turned up on that date all those years back wearing my old safari jacket? Because Wanda and I were nice together?"

Jesus Christ, Simon, go for my damn well jugular, why don't you?! Hank sat up at that, looking momentarily offended, utterly confused, absolutely bamboozled. Now Simon really is unreadable, just sitting there, staring at him. It says a lot about the both of them and the way they've left things, the way they've been skirting around each other's edges, that they both know exactly what Simon's talking about, despite it being one dumb date night Hank had crashed over a decade ago that most people would have just let fade into the annals of forgettable fun.

Well, now. Where in the nine rings of Hell did he go from here?

"It's, ah. It's a combination of a few different simian species - macaque, gorilla, ape, etcetera. The form. My new form. Since you asked. It's a little chimeric, if you want to know the genetic details. It retained my yellow eyes, from my feline mutation, however, I'm not quite sure why."

Simon just looks at him. Hank's answered the question, but not the question.

"It was - funny. I was being funny."

"Like Bugs Bunny."

"Precisely! Precisely like Bugs Bunny."

Simon sighs.

"Look, I know you may have spent a good amount of time dead, Simon, but I know when you were born and I know for fact that you know enough about Bugs Bunny to know that Bugs is - is - "

Where was he going with this?

"Oh, whatever . . ."

He turns away, starting to think that maybe he should head back inside. But . . . that would mean away from Simon, even if that's the reason he thinks maybe he should head back inside. His ears twitch as he hears plastic and metal and glass move, and he realises that Simon's taken off his glasses. The thought doesn't really phase him. All he'd see is the red. And, don't get him wrong, he likes the red, it's a reminder that he's not alone in possessing a body so utterly transformed that the windows to the shreds of his soul are tinted, but, not right now.

"Hank."

Oh, all right, fine, he supposes he'll look at his movie star friend a bit more.

He turns back, and starts a little. Again. How is it that Simon's getting the drop on him so many times tonight? Wasn't that supposed to be his gimmick? But then again, he's one of the few people who knows what it means to glance back at Simon and see his real eyes - or, maybe it was better to say his other eyes. That means he's concentrating, holding back that crackle that usually just comes spilling out of him. That's something he usually only does when he has to do a close-up, or if . . .

If there's something he wants to say but he can't quite say.

What is it that Simon wants to say?

Well.

Quite by instinct, Hank finds himself leaning back towards Simon, and . . . well, yes, that is his hand cupping his jaw a little, and well, maybe that is the tips of his fingers stroking at the immaculately trimmed sideburns that he's certain Simon's had for nigh on 30 years now. And maybe that is his thumb, feeling the cold skin of his best friend's cheek.

It's December in New York, and everyone in the city is cold except for Hank McCoy. It's always the way of things. He's always just that mite uncomfortable every time it's vaguely warm, but touching Simon like that, well . . . it's just nice. Funny, isn't it? Hank's got enough letters after his name to fill several alphabets, but he can't think of a word better than nice right now. It simply is nice. He's cool to the touch. Their temperatures reach a natural equilibrium. He's certain that means something, but what, well . . . it's . . . hard. Don't ask him right now. He's busy.

Busy kissing Simon Williams.

He knows what the man tastes like, of course (oh, hush). He's kissed him before. Bugs Bunny, like he said. But this is . . . undeniably something different. There's a difference between a big, loud, lip smacky, comedy kiss, and . . . this. This, touch, this, embrace, this, this. Hank's kissed a lot of people before, been frankly something of a slut in his time, but this is . . . more, than that. This is . . . charged. The fur on the back of his hand stands on delighted end as he spends just a little more time just, kissing, his best friend, and he can feel the ionic charge rippling along his fur. It's, good. Better than good.

Wonderful, actually.

He opens his eyes, and he realises that Simon's let the crackle flow back out. He's staring into red, pulsating energy again. It's like staring into a supernova, imperious and cold in its power. And he knows his own body well enough to know that Simon's staring into a star of his own, golden yellow, warm and knowing. If he'll allow his inner poet to escape him for a moment, something a little celestial is happening, he thinks.

That's - all, he thinks, actually. His mind's gone a little bit blank. His lips are still tingling with ionic charge as Simon looks at him, clearly expecting him to say something. First thing to come to mind, go.

". . . Better than Bugs Bunny?"

Simon laughs.

"Yeah, better than Bugs Bunny, you goof."